“Of course you will,” Helen had promised.

“Yeah, on the news maybe. We’ll hear about how you were eaten by bears.”

“Black bears don’t eat people,” Nate had said.

“Wolves then,” Jenny said.

“No wolves in Vermont,” Nate countered.

“Whatever, Nature Boy.” Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically and gestured with her wine glass. “Something bad will happen, I’m telling you. You’ll join a commune or cult or something, and Helen will stop shaving her armpits and Nate, you’ll go all Jack from The Shining. Or Unabomber.”

“Stop,” Helen had said, laughing.

“Seriously,” Jenny said. “Ted Kaczynski did the cabin-in-the-woods, self-sufficiency thing and look how it turned out for him. Please, God, do me a favor and change your minds before it’s too late.”

But they didn’t change their minds.

When Helen expressed any apprehension about all the security they were giving up, Nate would say, “But remember, what we’re doing, what we’re going to create for ourselves, that’s real security. When we’re done, we’ll have a house without a mortgage that we’ve built with our hands, enough acreage to grow all the food we need. It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, isn’t it? Your place in the country?”

And yes, it was. And she loved how quickly her dream had become his as well. How he’d thrown himself into it like a science project, drawing plans, making spreadsheets, spending hours doing research, even doing a PowerPoint presentation to show her their new plan, clearly laid out, step-by-step. “See, if we do this right, we have not only enough money to build our dream house and set up a self-sustaining homestead, we have a cushion to live on for at least another year, maybe more if we budget carefully. And if we find a way to earn money from the homestead—selling eggs, maple syrup, firewood, maybe your homemade jam—we may not have to ever go back to working full-time again. We can focus on the work that matters to us. Spend time outside, being caretakers of our amazing land. Think of it: walks to the bog every day, learning about all the creatures that live there,” he said, eyes bright with excitement. “Maybe we could even start a blog about our lives there!” he suggested. “I can talk to Pete. I’m sure he’s got lots of tips. And he actually makes decent money from links and ads and stuff on his.”

“I can research the history of the land, find out why it’s supposedly haunted. Maybe there was a house or farm out there once?”

Nate nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have plenty to do to keep us busy and plenty of money to keep us going for a while,” Nate promised.