She had weathered storms all her life. She brought loose tools inside, secured the greenhouse supplies, and checked the rain barrel lids. The sky turned a strange pale green shortly before supper, and Gus refused to leave the porch. Mary Ann stood at the kitchen window watching clouds pile over the western hills, then heard the first hard impact against the roof.
Hail.
At first the stones were small and scattered. Within minutes they struck like thrown gravel, pounding the shed roof, bouncing across the porch boards, and tearing through the garden. Mary Ann could do nothing but watch from the back door as the plants bent beneath the force. Leaves shredded, stems broke, and green fruit vanished into the churning mud. She had lived through hailstorms before, but it had been years since one seemed to choose the precise thing she could least afford to lose.
When the storm passed, the garden looked as though cattle had stampeded through it. The upper leaves hung in strips. Several trellises leaned at odd angles, their ties snapped. Small tomatoes lay bruised on the ground among ice that was already melting. Mary Ann walked halfway down the first row and stopped, unable to decide what to do first.
She returned to the house, took off her wet boots, and sat at the kitchen table without turning on a light. The loan papers were in the binder on the shelf. Their payment schedule remained exactly the same, indifferent to the broken plants outside. She sat long enough that the room became dark around her, then went to bed without supper.
The following morning Hollis came over because he had seen the damage on the drive past. He did not offer the kind of sympathy that required Mary Ann to reassure him. He carried a small saw, a bucket of spare ties, and two cups of coffee. After she showed him the rows, he looked over the plants and suggested they start by separating what was truly destroyed from what might recover.
"Most of the leaves are gone," Mary Ann said.
"Some of the roots aren't."
"You think they'll come back?"
"I think we ought to give the living ones a chance before we bury them with the dead."
They worked for two hours, and Mary Ann discovered that damaged vines did not all need the same response. Some were broken beyond useful recovery, while others had enough healthy tissue to remain productive if weather and disease pressure allowed. She marked the plants that would have to be replaced, removed badly damaged material from the rows, and checked the irrigation system for breaks. There was no way to recover the fruit already lost, but she could keep the remaining damage from becoming worse.
Evelyn sent Owen over after his shift, and Larry brought a roll of twine he insisted had been sitting unused at his place. June Palmer arrived that evening with soup, claiming she had made too much for her family. Mary Ann accepted the help reluctantly, then tried to thank everyone individually. Evelyn stopped her before she could get through the list.