Naomi laughed.
"Even with the work."
Zuri considered that.
Then looked toward the garden.
"Good. Because I like it here."
Naomi reached for her hand.
"So do I."
Three years after Naomi returned to the farm, a late-summer drought settled over southern Halbert County.
The fields turned pale.
Dust rose from the gravel roads.
And several small stock ponds became shallow.
Naomi's pond changed too.
Its water level declined gradually under the dry conditions, while the remaining natural spring contribution helped maintain some water.
The behavior was consistent with the measurements and monitoring expectations established after restoration.
There were no unexplained pressure surges.
No rapidly expanding shoreline.
And no new crescent of sinking ground.
The old dangerous section remained appropriately restricted and monitored.
Naomi didn't assume the absence of visible problems meant the system could be ignored forever.
She kept up with inspections and reporting.
But the land was stable enough that farming life could continue around it.
One afternoon, Dale approached while she was checking the pasture fence.
He looked toward the pond.
Then smiled.
"Remember when I told you it'd go down in a dry summer?"
Naomi laughed.
"I remember."
He nodded.
"Guess I finally got that part right."
She smiled.
"Water levels can change with the weather."
Dale chuckled.
"Don't start talking like an engineer."
Naomi laughed.
Then he became serious.
"I'm glad you listened to yourself when we didn't."
For a moment, she looked toward the old pond.
The water reflected the blue sky.
A few birds moved along the far bank.
And the black steel gate no longer rose beneath the surface.
The repaired system was quiet.
She smiled faintly.
"So am I."
Dale adjusted his cowboy hat.
Then walked toward his truck.
Naomi remained beside the fence.
For a while, she watched the wind move through the grass.
That evening, Naomi opened Ruthie's final notebook.
It was the smallest of the three.
The cover was worn.
The pages soft with age.
She had read it many times, but she still returned to it when she needed to remember why the work mattered.
Near the end was a short entry written in Ruthie's uneven handwriting.
People will tell you that something is fine because it has always been there. They may be right. But if the facts change, you must be willing to change your mind.