Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
He walked down the path toward the water, the heavy brush cutters balanced on his shoulder. Within minutes, the steady, mechanical hum of the small gasoline engine sounded through the trees, followed by the crisp sound of pine branches and briars being cleared away from the gravel.
Ben walked down to join him, carrying a heavy iron rake to clear the debris. From the porch, I watched the two of them working together near the water, their shapes dark against the silver reflection of the lake.
Emma came out to stand beside me, her hand resting on the porch railing. “The house in town is going to feel very quiet without you, Mom.”
“I will be here,” I said, looking out at the water. “This cabin has always been the place where I could hear myself think.”
“Are you going to keep the garden going next spring?” she asked.
“The soil by the well is good for rhubarb,” I said. “And your grandfather always had luck with the heirloom tomatoes on the south side.”
