Watermelon Summer by Anna Hess Page B

file to make the community official on paper. 
Scariest of all, from my point of view at least, we needed to get the
owner of each adjoining property on board so they knew what our
community was and approved of our mission.
     
    And if we couldn't?  Then Glen would put
Greensun up for sale, never mind its long history and the joy I'd seen
in Susan's, Arvil's, and my mother's faces when they talked about the farm's
past.  Because anything we couldn't do right wasn't worth doing at
all.
     
     

     
    I didn't sleep well that night, even though my tent
usually cocoons me in such safety I instantly fall into deep
slumber.  By morning, I hadn't decided whether to bail on my visit
to Jacob and just wallow in self pity, but I was sure that I wanted to trek to the top of Cell Phone Hill and call my
mother.  There are times when no one else's input will do, and all
you want is to run home to Mommy—this was one of those times.
     
    "What's wrong?" Mom answered on the second
ring.  I'd pushed ahead to the top of the ridge without stopping,
and my breathless hello was enough to set off Mom's radar.  Even
though I was simply low on oxygen rather than close to tears, she was
right—something was wrong.  How to explain the issue to my
over-protective mother was another matter entirely.
     
    I started out by just filling her in on the bare
bones of my time in Kentucky, picking up where my letter had left
off.  Mom was thrilled to hear I'd met Kat, was surprised to
discover I had three other half-siblings bopping around the east coast,
and was glad that Arvil and I had hit it off so well.  When I
finally told her about Glen's letter, though, she got the tone of voice
I'd come to recognize—my mother was trying hard not to say anything
bad about my bio-dad and was left with few other words.
     
    "Why don't you talk to Johnny for a minute?" 
This was a clear cop-out on Mom's part, but I hadn't spoken with my
little brother since leaving home and was glad to listen to him chatter
about his summer adventures.  I was a little surprised, though,
when the phone got passed to Dad next rather than rotating back to Mom.
     
    "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I asked, confused.
     
    "That glad to talk to me?" joked my stepfather,
and I smiled despite myself—I'd missed Dad's even keel. 
After explaining that his company was letting him work from home a
couple of days a week, he got to the point.  "So I hear Glen's selling
the property out from under you.  How does that make you feel?"
     
    Didn't that strike right to the heart of the
matter?  I wasn't really sure how I felt—angry perhaps, maybe
disappointed, or was my  primary emotion betrayal?  Here I had
flown all the way across the country to meet my biological father and Greensun,
and it felt like the former was telling me to go back home.
     
    "Well, do you want to come home?" Dad asked. 
"That's always easy—we can put you on a plane tomorrow.  But
would you regret not staying for the meeting?"
     
    Dad was right.  I'd definitely regret it if I
fled, and as I talked through the issue aloud, I realized there was no reason to.  Glen's letter said he'd be
keeping the property as-is for a year, in hopes someone in Greensun's
circle decided to resurrect the community.  "And they probably
will," I told Dad, feeling relieved even as I spoke the words.  "I
could tell Susan had some really good times here, and I'm sure the other
people did too.  It'll be interesting to see what strategy they
decide to take to save this place."
     
    Already, I could feel my enthusiasm returning. 
Wouldn't it be amazing to be involved in bringing Greensun back to
life?  Maybe Glen's ultimatum was a blessing in disguise—this
would give me a chance to see what the intentional community could be
like in its prime rather than just spending my summer living in a
cemetery of old