I walked out to the back porch after the call. The air was cool and the grass was wet from the morning rain. I could see the white stakes from there, still standing in a straight line across the field.

One of them had a little flag on it, red and bright against the green. The contractor must have left it when he finished his work.

I thought about pulling them up but I didn’t. It felt like that would be the same as saying yes or no before I was ready to decide either way.

My daughter called while I was still out there on the porch. “Mom, don’t let them guilt you into anything,” she said. “That land is yours and you have every right to say how it’s used.” Her voice was strong, like she was ready to drive over and handle it herself if I asked.

I told her I knew that. But knowing it and living with it every day are two different things, especially when you’ve known these people for thirty years or more.

The church has been good to us over the years. They brought meals when Frank was in the hospital that last time. They sat with me at the funeral and made sure the grandkids had someone to talk to. Harold’s wife still brings me a pie every Thanksgiving, even though she has her own family to look after.

How do you put a price on that kind of thing or turn your back on it?

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think the answer is in the deed or the map. It’s somewhere in between what Frank gave them out of kindness and what the church took for granted without asking.

The drawer closed with a soft click when I put the folder away again. I stood there with my hand on the handle for a minute longer than I needed to, just listening to the quiet in the house.

Frank would have said to do what felt right in my heart. But my heart is pulled in two directions and neither one feels completely right or completely wrong.

Mind you, I keep coming back to what he said the day we signed the papers at the courthouse. “Do what you have to do, but remember the church is people too.”

I remember the first Easter after Frank loaned the lot. The parking was full and people were walking across the grass in their Sunday best. One little boy stopped and picked a dandelion from the edge. He brought it to his mother and she smiled at him like it was the best gift. Frank saw that and he nodded like it was all worth it.