All Over Creation by Ruth Ozeki Page A

stupid.”
    â€œI heard, ” Phoenix groaned. “You think I’m deaf? You’re the stupid buggah.”
    â€œI am not!”
    â€œShe’s at that age,” Yummy apologized. “Righteous little fascist.”
    Interstate 86 ran west from the Pocatello airport to Liberty Falls, away from the foothills, perfectly straight, perfectly flat, cutting through a landscape that lay covered by new snow. The moon broke reluctantly through receding clouds. It was warm in the car, and after a while the kids got tired of bickering and fell asleep. Yummy stared out the window at the bright, icy expanse.
    â€œThere’s nothing out there,” she breathed. “I’d completely forgotten. So big. So empty. Nothing growing.”
    â€œIt’s just winter. Things start growing in the spring.”
    â€œI know. It just seems so dead now. But it’s not dead at all. At rest. Deep in the soil. It’s so peaceful. It’s never like this in Hawaii. Everything’s growing all the time—a regular hotbed of vegetative activity. But here . . .”
    â€œIt’s quiet, all right. Not much happens in winter. Aside from the storms.”
    They drove on a bit, staring at the patch of black highway ahead, and the broken white lines, and the white snow swirling in the headlights. Then Cass started talking again.
    â€œAbout your mom and dad . . .”
    â€œDid you tell them I was coming?”
    â€œNo. I didn’t want to just in case—”
    â€œI didn’t show up. Okay. So what about them?”
    â€œWell, your dad, really.”
    â€œI know. He’s dying.”
    â€œYes, well, it’s just that he . . . well, since it didn’t look like you were coming home and nobody knew where to find you, he went and sold his acreage.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYes. A couple of years ago.”
    â€œHow many acres were there?”
    â€œThree thousand.”
    â€œWow. What about the house?”
    â€œThere’s a life-estate clause in the sale contract. They can live in it until . . .”
    â€œUntil they die.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo who bought it?”
    â€œWell, that’s just it, Yum. It was me and Will.”
    â€œOh.” There was a long pause. Cass glanced over at Yummy, who was looking out the window again.
    â€œWe’d been renting and farming it for years, but I was kind of worried that you might—” She hesitated.
    â€œWhat?” inquired Yummy. “Be angry? Feel ripped off?”
    â€œWell, yes. That you might have wanted the land after all.”
    â€œOh.” Again Yummy paused.
    â€œEspecially, well, seeing how you ended up in real estate . . .”
    Yummy turned and looked at her. “Were you really worried?”
    Cass felt her face grow hot. She kept her own eyes on the white line ahead.
    â€œBecause if you were really so worried,” Yummy continued, “why didn’t you try to find me? Before you bought it out from under me, you know?”
    The close warmth of the car was suffocating. No air. Nowhere to go. No choice but to talk without too much thinking. Cass took a deep breath.
    â€œBecause I figured you’d run out on your parents and didn’t deserve anything from them. Because I’d been taking care of them and was the only one who cared. Because me and Will work hard and had some real tough times and deserve better.” Breathing hard, heart racing now, reckless, words tumbling over one another like spuds into a hopper. “Because it’s good farmland, and you don’t know shit about potatoes.”
    It was quiet in the car, and then Yummy spoke, softly, staring straight ahead. “Noble Pilgrim, my people and I welcome you to our land. . . .” She shook her head and laughed. “I can’t believe I remembered that.” She turned to Cass. “Listen. You’re right. I don’t know shit about potatoes. At least not anymore. And Lloyd