Between our hands

Chapter 6: A Return to the Heart of Turmoil.

The return to the farm was met with a mixture of relief and apprehension, a strange combination that seemed to crystallize all the emotions accumulated over the past few days. As soon as the cars passed through the gate of the family property, a collective sigh could be felt, as if everyone had been holding their breath for hours. The gravel crunched under the wheels, and before them stretched the vast fields that had witnessed their daily lives for so long, in a life that, just a few days earlier, still seemed unchangeable. The old stone house, with its ivy-covered walls and windows bathed in soft light, stood like a guardian of the past, offering a temporary respite from the growing uncertainty.

The farm was much more than just a home to Maëlle. It was the center of her world, the place where she had grown up, where she had learned to understand the cycles of nature, to live in harmony with the seasons. Every stone, every tree, every corner of the property carried memories, moments etched into her mind. The smell of the damp earth after rain, the cawing of crows soaring in the evening sky, the familiar sound of the wind rushing through the branches of the old oaks: everything here seemed eternal. Yet, for the first time, this sense of permanence was shaken.

Upon their arrival, everyone returned to their routines, as if clinging to a sense of normalcy that was slipping away. Samuel, the family patriarch, was the first to get to work, following his morning ritual with almost military precision. He walked the path leading to the barns, inspecting each pen, ensuring the animals were well-fed. With every step, his gaze swept across the horizon, perhaps searching for answers in these familiar landscapes. He too knew that their return to the farm was merely a pause in the storm that awaited them.

Inside the house, the kitchen was still wrapped in the comforting scent of freshly ground coffee, and the soft hum of the percolator echoed in the room. Maëlle’s mother, Marie, busied herself in silence, as if the simple act of preparing meals could keep at bay the concerns that weighed on them all. She had always found comfort in household tasks, in these simple gestures that grounded her in the present moment. Baking bread, peeling vegetables, tending to the stew simmering on the stove: it all had an almost ritualistic dimension. But today, even these familiar acts were tinged with a latent unease, a palpable tension.

Maëlle, meanwhile, felt caught between two worlds. On one side, there was this farm, a symbol of her past and the simplicity of the life she had always known. On the other, the uncertain future, the legacy of an unknown family that seemed poised to change everything. She felt the pressure building inside her, like a wave she could not contain. Her escape lay in her morning walks, a habit she had nurtured since adolescence. As soon as the first rays of sunlight touched the hills, she took her two dogs, Ely and Summer, and disappeared into the fields. Nature offered her a bubble of respite, a space where she could think without being confronted by the family’s debates.

She walked through the fields, golden in the September sun, her dogs running freely around her, barking occasionally to signal a bird or a hare spotted in the distance. The silence of these mornings was broken only by birdsong and the rustling of the wind in the tall grasses. Maëlle cherished these moments of solitude, where she could let her thoughts roam freely. But even here, in this place she had always considered her refuge, the shadow of the Ben Ali inheritance followed her. The questions kept looping in her mind: What should she do? Was she ready to leave behind the simplicity of this life and dive into a world she didn’t know? And what if she made the wrong choice?

Days passed, and with them, the deadline set by the lawyer approached inexorably. The tension in the house intensified. Maëlle’s uncle William and aunt Sophie had decided to extend their stay at the farm, sensing that they couldn’t let the family face this ordeal alone. The meals, once moments of comfort and togetherness, turned into intellectual battlegrounds. Around the large wooden table, discussions flowed, with everyone expressing their doubts, fears, and hopes. Though passionate, the exchanges remained respectful, but the tension was undeniable.

Victor, Maëlle’s cousin, was perhaps the most vocal during these debates. Usually calm and reserved, he was now particularly involved. His military experience had instilled in him a maturity and a sharp sense of responsibility. He saw the inheritance not as an opportunity, but as a duty. “It’s not just about us,” he would often say, his deep voice resonating in the kitchen. “What we decide will affect future generations.” For him, refusing the inheritance would be like turning away from a part of their history, from a connection with ancestors they knew nothing about but who, in some way, were part of their identity.

Nohé, on the other hand, always tried to lighten the mood, staying true to his role as the family jokester. “Come on, imagine me as a prince,” he’d say with a mischievous grin, hoping to provoke a laugh. But this time, his humor seemed to fall flat. The gravity of the situation weighed too heavily for his jokes to lift the atmosphere. Yet everyone appreciated his effort, even if it failed to bring smiles. Behind his facade of nonchalance, Nohé too felt the pressure on their shoulders.

Sophie, however, brought a voice of wisdom and calm to the discussions. As a nurse, she had learned to listen, to decode the needs of others. Her role, though invisible, was essential in maintaining balance within the family. She strove to ease the tensions, often reminding everyone that the most important thing was to stay united. “Whatever decision we make,” she would often say, “it must be made together, with trust and sincerity.” Her words, filled with wisdom and gentleness, often soothed heated spirits, bringing the discussions back to a more human, more tangible level.

Victoria and Samuel, the elders of the family, remained mostly silent. They listened more than they spoke, leaving the younger ones to express themselves, knowing that the decision ultimately rested with them. But behind their silence, a deep concern grew. Samuel, with his piercing eyes and face weathered by years, watched over his children and grandchildren with a quiet, caring attention. He knew this decision wasn’t just a material choice, but one that would deeply affect the soul of their family.

Evenings were perhaps the only times when the tension eased a little. After the heated discussions of the day, the family would gather around the fireplace, sharing stories and memories, trying to reclaim a bit of lightness. Laughter would sometimes echo through the old house, and for a few moments, the weight of the decision seemed to fade. But these moments were fleeting, and as soon as silence fell, the anxiety returned, stronger than before.

As the days passed, Maëlle felt the pressure inside her growing. The dilemma was almost unbearable. On one hand, she wanted to preserve this simple life, this connection to the land that had always nourished her. But on the other hand, there was this unique opportunity, this inheritance that could change everything, not just for her, but for her entire family.

The final hours before contacting the lawyer were the most trying. The family gathered one last time around the table, the silence heavy like a lead weight. It was Samuel who spoke first, his deep yet soothing voice filling the room. “Whatever decision we make, let’s ensure we’re at peace with ourselves. That’s all that matters.” His words, simple yet full of meaning, struck each family member deeply.

That night, Maëlle stood by her window, gazing at the stars twinkling in the clear sky. She knew that one chapter of their lives was about to end, but another, far more uncertain, was about to begin. Whatever happened, she knew they would be ready, together.