When Grandma passed away, I thought the farm would be mine. I’d spent my whole life here, helping her, learning everything I knew from her. But instead, the farm went to my cousin Felicity—the one who only cared about money and never got her hands dirty.
All I got was a strange letter and the right to stay on the farm… for now.
But I could feel it in my bones—there was more to this. Grandma had a plan, and I was going to find out what it was, no matter what it took.
The lawyer’s voice grew quieter as he finished reading Grandma’s will. The room fell into a heavy silence. My heart sank, and a cold wave washed over me.
The farm—this place that was our family’s heartbeat—belonged to Felicity now.
Felicity, who barely came to visit.
Felicity, who treated the farm like a pretty backdrop for her photos, while I woke up before sunrise to feed animals and pull weeds.
How many times had I worked the fields with the sun burning down on my back, while she was posting selfies and sipping lattes?
“Are you okay, Diana?” the lawyer asked gently. “Your grandmother loved you more than anyone…”
He handed me an envelope. My fingers trembled as I opened it.
It was Grandma’s handwriting—familiar, flowing, and strong.
My dearest Diana,
If you are reading this, the time has come for a choice. I know you love this farm, and it has been a part of you as much as it was a part of me. But I needed to be sure that the true caretaker would come forward. I’ve left the farm to Felicity… but I’ve also granted you the right to stay here for as long as you wish.
As long as you live on the land, it cannot be sold. Be patient, my dear. The second part of my will shall be revealed in three months.
Love,
Grandma
Why didn’t she just give me the farm? Didn’t she trust me?
I looked across the room at Felicity. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she whispered to her husband, Jack. I couldn’t hear it all, but some words floated over.
“Sell it… quick profit… developers…”
It hit me like a punch in the gut. They didn’t care about the farm at all. To them, it was just numbers on paper.
Later, Felicity approached me with a smug smile.
“Take the money, Diana. And leave this place,” she said.
“It’s a generous amount. You could buy yourself a nice apartment in the city.”
I stared at her. My voice came out steady, but full of fire.
“This isn’t about money, Felicity. It’s about family.”
She gave a lazy shrug, already bored with the conversation.
But for me, this farm was family. It was where Grandma taught me to be strong, where I learned love wasn’t always spoken—it was shown in the way you worked, the way you cared.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing Grandma’s face, hearing her voice, remembering the feel of her hand on mine as she showed me how to plant a seed or bottle-feed a baby goat.
By morning, I made my decision. I called my boss and asked for a leave of absence. I couldn’t go back to the city—not now.
Felicity tossed me the keys with a smirk. She was clearly thrilled to wash her hands of the place.
The first few days were brutal. I dragged myself out of bed before the sun came up, every muscle in my body aching.
I fed the cows, talking to them like old friends.
“Morning, Daisy,” I said to the big brown cow near the gate. I scratched behind her ears. “Ready for breakfast?”
She gently nudged me in response.
“You’re the only one who listens to me, you know that?”
I chuckled, even though I was dead tired.
I rushed to feed the chickens, gather eggs, and make sure the goats weren’t up to trouble. The work never stopped.
When I finally got around to repairing the broken fence, I heard boots crunching on gravel behind me.
“Need help again?” came a familiar voice.
I turned and sighed with relief. “Mr. Harris, you’re a lifesaver. I think this fence has a personal vendetta against me.”
He chuckled, setting down his toolbox.
“Nah, it just needs a firm hand. Show it who’s boss.”
He showed me how to reinforce the posts, his movements slow but sure.
“Your grandma used to say, ‘A good fence makes a happy farm,’” he said with a wink.
“She never told me it would drive me crazy,” I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow.
He laughed. “She didn’t want to scare you off. But you’re doing good, Diana. You care. That’s half the battle.”
“Half the battle? What’s the other half?” I asked.
He paused, looking thoughtful.
“Sticking it out when things get tough. This farm isn’t just land. It’s got a soul.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I just hope I’m doing it justice.”
He gave my shoulder a firm pat. “You are. More than you know.”
That evening, just as the sky turned a deep, smoky orange, I smelled it.
Smoke.
My heart stopped. I turned toward the house.
Flames.
“No! NO!”
I dropped everything and ran, screaming. “Fire! Help! Someone help!”
Neighbors came rushing, but the fire was too big, too fast. Mr. Harris grabbed me as I tried to run into the flames.
“Diana, it’s too dangerous!”
“But the animals—”
“They’re safe,” he said quickly. “You did your part. Focus.”
I stood there, tears running down my face, as the house crumbled into ash.
“It’s all gone,” I whispered.
The next morning, Felicity showed up. She looked at the wreckage, then turned to me and said coldly:
“Well, this changes things, doesn’t it?”
“The house is gone, Felicity. But the farm is still here,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
She smirked, arms crossed.
“Exactly why it’s time to sell. Look around, Diana. This place is a mess. It’s not worth it.”
“You don’t understand. This place is more than land.”
“To you, maybe,” she snapped. “To the rest of us? It’s a money pit. So when are you leaving?”
I stared her down. “I’m not leaving. This is my home.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Be reasonable. You’ve lost your job. You’re living in a barn, Diana. A barn.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
She gave me a pitying look. “You’re being stubborn. There’s nothing left here.”
Then she turned and walked away.
I pulled out my phone and called my boss. He picked up with a sharp voice.
“Diana, you’re late on your return.”
“There was a fire. The house is gone. I need more time.”
He paused. Then said coldly, “We need you back by Monday.”
“Monday? I can’t—”
“Then we can’t hold your position any longer.”
“Wait, please—” I started, but the line went dead.
Mr. Harris came up quietly. “You alright?”
“No. But I’ll be fine. Somehow.”
He nodded and put a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re stronger than you think. And so is this farm. Don’t give up yet.”
I looked at the barn, the animals, the blackened ruins of the house.
“I’m not leaving.”
Mr. Harris nodded. “You can’t stay in the barn forever. I’ve got a spare room. Come stay with me ‘til you get back on your feet.”
His kindness made me want to cry.
“Thank you, Jack.”
The weeks that followed were the hardest of my life. Every morning, I worked from sunrise to sunset.
I fixed broken fences, dug my hands into the soil, and planted fresh crops. The animals were my family now—Daisy the cow, the silly goats, the noisy chickens.
Mr. Harris—Jack—showed up every day with tools, help, and sometimes just a smile.
“This fence again, huh?” he’d say, grinning.
He taught me how to read the land, listen to the air, and sense the coming of a storm before a single cloud appeared.
One evening, we sat on the porch outside his place, the sky soft and golden.
“You’ve done good, Diana,” he said, watching the fields. “Your grandma would be proud.”
I smiled through tired eyes.
“I think I finally understand why she did what she did.”
“She knew this place needed love. Real love. And that was always you.”
Three months later, I walked into the lawyer’s office for the second reading of the will. My palms were sweaty.
Felicity was already there, looking bored. Jack sat beside me.
The lawyer opened the sealed envelope.
“My dear Felicity and Diana,” he read aloud, “If you are hearing this, then the time has come for the farm to find its true guardian. Felicity, I know this may come as a surprise, but I always intended for the farm to belong to the one who truly cares for it…”
He looked up.
“As far as I know, Diana has taken responsibility for managing the farm, so if no one objects…”
Felicity jumped up, her face pale.
“This is ridiculous! She burned down the house! She’s a failure!”
Jack stood up. His voice was calm, but firm.
“I think it’s time we tell the truth.” He handed the lawyer a receipt. “Felicity was seen buying gasoline at the local store the day of the fire.”
The lawyer raised his eyebrows.
“This evidence suggests otherwise, Ms. Felicity.”
Felicity turned red. “Fine! That was me! Somebody had to help my sister move out!”
But the damage was done. The truth was out. She had set the fire, hoping to push me off the land.
The lawyer looked at me and smiled.
“Diana, the farm is now officially yours.”
I became the guardian of the farm, just like Grandma had hoped.
I took care of the land, loved the animals, and in every sunrise, every soft breeze, I felt her with me.
One evening, Jack leaned over and said with a twinkle in his eye:
“How about that dinner I promised you?”
I laughed softly. “You know what, Jack? I think I finally have the time.”
And as I stood on my land, my home, I knew that I had lost a lot—but I had found my strength, my purpose, and maybe… just maybe… a new beginning.
