“Aunt Rachel, I came to help, if you will let me,” Trevor said, his voice cracking. “Dad does not know I am here, and I do not care. What he and Uncle Craig did to you was wrong.” He took off his cap and held it in both hands. “Uncle Neil taught me to drive a tractor when I was ten. I want to repay it.” My chest tightened. Across the road, Doug started toward us, his boots crunching on the gravel.

Doug stopped at the edge of my field, red-faced. “Trevor, get back here,” he barked. Trevor did not move. “I need you on the farm,” Doug said, and then his voice dropped, almost pleading. “Son, we are about to lose it. The bank called in the loan. We have until Friday.” Craig, still on the tractor, lowered his head. And in that instant, I understood why my five hundred thousand dollars had never been generous.