A/N: Hello, everyone. I hope you enjoy this new story, I got the idea last night and went with it. I know this chapter is short, but think of it more as an introduction rather than a real chapter. Future chapters should be longer.
I hope you like it!
I had only met my Grandma Jem once when I was five years old. I can't remember much about Jem, only that she lived on a farm in Rose Valley, Saskatchewan. But as I sat in the crowded prairie church, listening to all of Jem's friends rattle off sorrowful tales about my eccentric grandma, I couldn't help but feel as though I missed out on something great.
I grew up in Vancouver with my mother, Jem's daughter in law. My parents had split up when I was six and my father moved to Vancouver Island, which would explain why I had only seen Jem once. But I knew that my father kept Jem updated. He would often speak to me about going to visit her, but the plan was never concrete enough to follow through. Now I wish I had taken the time to plan a trip to the small rural town, because it was too late for me to have any kind of relationship with Jem now.
I learned of Jem's passing last week while I was in a very important meeting. I was just about to give some very important people some very important financial advice when I received a call from my father. My father rarely called, that was why I decided it must be important; Charlie didn't arbitrarily chat. It was a shock to know that my grandma had passed, even though I didn't know my grandma; death never comes lightly. So I explained my situation, and rescheduled the meeting. And that was how I found myself seated in the Rose Valley church, listening to tales about Jem.
Why did I pack up everything to go to the funeral for the grandma I never knew? I didn't know. Maybe it was the need to know what I had lost. Maybe I needed to see Jem one more time. Maybe I felt guilty for never visiting. There were a million reasons why I came, and few reasons to stay. But over everything, I felt this indescribable need to be there. It was like something was tugging me to the farm I had only seen once. A ghostly presence was pushing me there.
The funeral was too short. I wanted to hear more about Jem. The rest passed in a blur. There were many elderly people talking to me about how cute I was when I was five, and how much Jem wished I had come to visit. They spoke about how Charlie would send Jem a picture of me every year, and how she would show everyone who would look. I don't think they meant to make me feel guilty, but that was all I could feel. It was like a disease gnawing at my insides.
Time passed quickly and unevenly until me and my father were seated at the reading of Jem's will. She left mismatched things to people I didn't know and probably would never know. She left my father most of her fortune, she even gave some to my mother. I was concentrating on my guilt until I heard my own name.
"'I would like all my land, any buildings on the land, any furniture in the house, and all the animals to be given to my granddaughter, Isabella Swan,'" Mr. Peters, the man reading the will, said.
"What?" I replied in shock. She gave me the farm? It seemed as though my life had been jumbled around by some great, cosmic force in that very moment.
"Well, of course, you don't have to keep it, ma'am. You can forfeit it to the bank. Take some time to think over your decision," Mr. Peters replied.
I nodded to myself. Did I really want to keep the farm? I didn't know how to run a farm. I didn't know how to care for animals, or crops, or anything. I'm a financial advisor from the city, for god sakes, I thought to myself. But the more I thought about selling the farm, the more the idea repulsed me. I felt like if I was to sell the farm, I would be giving away the only piece of Jem I would ever know. How could I do that to her? But how could I give up everything I had at home? I had a life in Vancouver, a job, a home, a boyfriend. I didn't see how I could just pack up and move and leave everything behind.
I just couldn't see a way that this would work without me losing something, or someone, that was dear to me.
There was so much I had at home, but so much I could gain from moving. How could I leave my life behind and start from scratch? I had spent the last 23 years making my life what it is today and it seemed so foolish and reckless and scary to give it all up for Jem's farm. Yet, that was the reason why I debating doing this. I was always so good, so proper, so safe. The most reckless thing I had ever done was deciding to cut off three inches of my hair last summer. I was tired of being safe, I was tired of never taking any chances, and I was tired of being conventional. For once in my life, I wanted to take a risk.
"No," I said to Mr. Peters, "I want the farm."
And so it began. My very unprepared life as a farm girl.
I hope you liked my story. If you did, please leave a friendly review for me, if you didn't feel free to give me some criticism. I would very much appreciate your comments.