Walter considered the question.
Then pointed toward the surrounding fields.
“Because plants solve problems in ways we don't always understand.”
Dileia looked toward the black root.
“Does that one solve a problem?”
Her father smiled.
“I think it might.”
She tilted her head.
“What problem?”
Walter looked toward the dry hills.
Then answered quietly.
“How to make better use of the water we have.”
At six, she didn't understand.
At twenty-one, she understood too well.
The farm was struggling.
Three dry seasons had reduced income from conventional crops.
Equipment repairs had become more expensive.
Fuel prices had risen.
And the experimental root fields required labor and investment without producing reliable commercial revenue.
Walter had borrowed against the property to keep operations moving.
He believed the research would eventually attract a partner.
He continued sending samples to laboratories.
Some never answered.
Others expressed interest but declined to fund development.
A few offered small consulting payments that barely covered the cost of shipping materials.
Dileia tried to help him make the numbers work.
One evening, she sat at the kitchen table surrounded by invoices.
Her father entered carrying a cup of coffee.
He looked exhausted.
She pointed toward the paperwork.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
Walter smiled.
“That sounds expensive.”
She didn't smile back.
“We can't keep doing this.”
He sat across from her.
“Doing what?”
“Borrowing money to grow something nobody has agreed to buy.”
His expression changed.
For several seconds, he stared toward the window.
Then he nodded.
“I know.”
Dileia felt her anger soften.
She'd expected him to argue.
Instead, he looked tired.
Very tired.
She leaned forward.
“I believe you've found something interesting.”
Walter looked up.
“But interesting isn't the same as financially sustainable.”
He nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
She swallowed.
“Then we need a plan.”
Walter reached toward one of the notebooks.
“I've been working on one.”
Dileia sighed.
“Please tell me it involves somebody paying us.”
He laughed softly.
“It might.”
He opened the notebook.
Inside were chemical sketches, crop records, and correspondence with research organizations.
He showed her several letters.
One came from a laboratory in Switzerland.
Another from an American agricultural materials company.
Both expressed interest in specific properties of the sap.
Dileia read the correspondence carefully.
Then looked toward her father.
“These aren't purchase orders.”
“No.”
“They're research inquiries.”
“Yes.”
She leaned back.
“Dad.”
Walter smiled sadly.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he looked toward her.
“Do you remember what I told you when you were little?”
She sighed.
“You told me a lot of things.”
He laughed.
“About the roots.”