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“It’s—uh—Mother—”

“I know about Henry’s grain alcohol, Lizzie,” she said, making a grabbing motion for the mug. Shocked, I passed it to her, only to be even more shocked when she knocked the whole lot back. She shuddered, then exhaled and rested her head against the back of his chair.

“You think you’re like your daddy, don’t you?” she said, eyes still closed.

“I am like Daddy,” I replied. Everyone always said so. Dad and I were famously quick with a scowl or to point out the negative in a situation, unlike Mother and Henry, who were the sunshine to our rain.

“Honey, you’re me all over. You have your dad’s hair and his pragmatic nature, but that’s about it. You’re strong as an ox in body and spirit. Those boys of ours aren’t like us.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“You and me are survivors, Lizzie. We keep moving forward. We find a way, and if there isn’t a way to be found, we make one. Those boys are more inclined to crumble and break than you and I are to even consider giving up.”

“Henry isn’t like that,” I argued. “Henry is likeyou.”

“Don’t kid yourself, honey. I don’t know what’s going on with Henry at the moment, but that boy is every bit as tormented as your father is on his worst days.”

“Judge Nagle wants the loan settled,” I blurted. Mother sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s pressuring Henry for money. The judge is having trouble of his own because so many of his tenants have gone bust. He says he might sue Henry to get the farm even though the deed is in Daddy’s name. It can’t be true, can it?”

“Honey,” Mother said gently. “If Dad had been able to get that loan from the bank two years ago, we’d have already lost the farm.”

I was startled to realize she was right. Whether the money came from Judge Nagle or from the bank, we still had no way to repay it. I looked out over the moonlit fields and felt a pang of presumptive grief for a loss I hadn’t even realized was inevitable. “Mother, I love this place.”

“I know, Lizzie. I do too. But you know what I love more?” I looked at her, and in the darkness, I saw the gentle smile she offered me. She reached across and squeezed my hand. “Thisfamily, honey. Family is everything. I thought I’d already taught you that.”

“You did,” I said. We weren’t the kind of family to sayI love youor to express our feelings aloud, but she’d taught me in other ways. Even those hours she spent on the bench near the Texas live oak reinforced to me that what mattered in life was to love so deeply that sometimes you were truly tormented by it.

“The weather let us down, not the judge. At least he gave us a chance and he bought us two more years here. We should be grateful to him, not scared of him or angry with him. Knowing the judge as I do, I know he wouldn’t be demanding money from us unless he really needed it. I bet he’s as distressed about this as we are.”

There was strength and dignity in that statement that astounded me. I stared at Mother in the moonlight—all calm and compassionate, even though she’d just acknowledged she was on the verge of losing everything.

“How are you so strong?” I asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Lizzie. Youare just like me. I know they say women are the weaker sex, but there’s nothing weak about the women in this family. The strength of generations runs through our veins. It doesn’t matter what life throws at us—we find a way to keep going. And it seems to me that those of us who are strong have an obligation to care for others when they aren’t.” Mother suddenly pushed herself to a standing position. “You aren’t going to solve this sitting out here on your own tonight. Let’s skip church tomorrow. We can drag Daddy and Henry out for a drive if the weather is good. Maybe they can get some perspective if we get them off the farm.”