She looked toward the window.
Then answered.
“You thought they could help people grow crops with less water.”
Walter nodded.
“That's still what I think.”
Dileia studied his face.
There was no greed in it.
No fantasy of becoming a billionaire.
He simply wanted the work to mean something.
She reached for his hand.
“Then let's make sure we can afford to keep proving it.”
He smiled.
“Deal.”
For several weeks, they worked together.
Dileia reorganized the accounting records.
Negotiated payment schedules with suppliers.
Created a database of field trials.
And began identifying expenses that could be reduced without damaging the research.
Walter repaired old equipment.
Improved the root-harvesting method.
And continued documenting the crop.
Then, during a brutal summer heat wave, one of the experimental fields developed an irrigation problem.
A damaged valve caused uneven distribution across several acres.
Walter went into the field early one morning to inspect the system.
Dileia was working in the machine shed when she noticed his truck had not returned.
At first, she assumed he'd become distracted.
Her father could spend hours examining a problem.
But as the temperature climbed, she became worried.
She called his phone.
No answer.
Called again.
Nothing.
Finally, she drove toward the experimental field.
She found his truck near the western boundary.
The driver's door was open.
His notebook lay on the seat.
And Walter was on the ground beside the damaged irrigation line.
She ran toward him.
“DAD!”
He didn't answer.
She dropped to her knees.
Called emergency services.
Followed the dispatcher's instructions.
And waited through the longest minutes of her life.
The medical emergency was severe.
Despite the efforts of the responders and hospital team, Walter died.
Dileia remembered almost nothing about the funeral.
Only fragments.
Neighbors arriving with food.
Her father's work boots beside the doorway.
The empty chair at the kitchen table.
And the terrible silence of a workshop where the radio no longer played every morning.
For weeks, she couldn't bring herself to enter the experimental fields.
The roots continued growing beneath the soil.
The gray-green stalks bent beneath the dry wind.
And the man who understood them better than anyone was gone.
Then the bank letters began arriving.
The farm had substantial outstanding debt.
Some loans were properly documented.
Others were tied to equipment and operating expenses.
The property was encumbered by a mortgage.
And without Walter's income, meeting the scheduled obligations became increasingly difficult.
Dileia inherited the farm through the estate process.
She also inherited the responsibility of deciding whether to keep it.
Several relatives suggested selling.
A former neighbor offered to help her contact land brokers.