My Daughter Wrote Her Teacher a Letter Asking Her to Marry Me. The Teacher Showed Up at Our Cherry Farm With Her Answer

I sat down on the kitchen floor.

Ellie explained, very fast, that Ms. Lane was the best teacher in the whole school, that she was divorced, that she laughed at Ellie’s jokes, that she’d read Ellie’s essay about her mom and cried in front of the whole class, and that she lived alone with a cat named Mr. Darcy.

“She’s perfect for you,” Ellie said. “You both like old books and you’re both sad.”

“Ellie, you can’t ask your teacher to marry your father.”

“I didn’t ask,” she said. “I just suggested it. In detail. With bullet points.”

She’d left the two-page letter on Ms. Lane’s desk that morning.

I wanted to die.

The next afternoon, I was in the orchard checking the trees for frost damage. We’d had a bad freeze in May that took out half the crop. My crop insurance claim was still being processed, and I was doing math in my head about whether I could make the equipment loan payment in December.

A small blue car pulled up the farm road.

A woman got out. About forty. Dark hair in a loose braid, glasses, a long cardigan, a canvas bag over her shoulder.

She was holding Ellie’s letter.

“Mr. Hollis?” she said. “I’m Abby Lane. I think we need to talk.”