Hello dere! Before I start, I would like to dedicate my third story to MissEndora, Maranatha, and Gisele from the TVLand Message Board! I hope you all enjoy it!

The Douglas Farm

It was turning out to be another hectic day for Oliver Wendell Douglas. It seemed like nothing wanted to go right on his farm that day. His corn was infested with insects, his decrepit looking tractor broke down again, Mr. Kimball, the county agent, lost his soil samples again, and to top it all off, all of his crops looked like they were on the brink of death. Oliver felt like the least luckiest man in the world. Now, as he stood in the middle of his cornfield, he sighed in frustration and ran his fingers through his silver hair.

It wouldn't be as bad if this was just a one time thing, he thought, but these sorts of occurrences had increased steadily in the past few months. It was almost enough to make him wash his hands of the whole thing, but something inside him wouldn't allow it. He knew he loved farming too much to give it up just yet.

But still, Oliver thought, with all the stress this farm is giving me, it's likely to be the death of me.

Oliver sighed once again, picked up his hoe, and began weeding his corn.

Meanwhile, back at the farmhouse, Oliver's wife, Lisa was busying herself preparing her husband's lunch. She was about to put on the finishing touches when Eb, their hired hand, breezed into the kitchen.

"Hi, mom," Eb greeted her as he took his regular spot at the kitchen table.

"Hello, Eb," Lisa replied as a warm feeling grew inside her at the sound of him calling her mom. Although it annoyed her husband greatly when Eb referred to them as mom and dad, Lisa rather enjoyed it. Since she never had any children of her own, the fact that someone looked up to her enough to call her mom pleased her greatly. Plus, Lisa thought, Eb is a very sweet boy. I really do love him like a son. She smiled at him warmly once more and walked over to him to pour him a cup of coffee.

"Vhere's my husband," Lisa asked, her thick Hungarian accent mangling her English.

"He's still out in the field, hoeing and muttering," Eb responded as he watched the coffee pour out of the cup. Once the cup was full, Lisa set down the pot on the table and pulled up a chair next to him. She gazed out the window in the direction of the fields with a concerned look on her face.

"Oh dear, is he still in a grumpy mood," she asked. Eb, who was busy adding cream and sugar to his coffee, answered without looking up.

"Yes, ma'am. He mumbles all the time about how nothing goes right and how he can never catch a break. He's been real stressed out lately, and all that stress is making him real moody too."

"Vot do you mean?"

"Well, he just snaps at me for every little thing that I do wrong. It's getting to where I can't do an ounce of work without getting yelled at," Eb concluded sadly. Lisa looked on at him with sympathy and patted him on the arm soothingly.

"Oh Eb, I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it. My poor dahling, he's been under so much stress and he hardly gets any sleep at night. I vish there was a vay I could help him," she said as she looked down at the table wistfully. Finally she sighed and got up to go back to the stove.

"Vell," she said as she stirred the contents in the giant pot she was making lunch in, "maybe this vill cheer him up."

"What is it," Eb asked.

"I made him his favorite food to help him forget about all his stress on the farm," she explained. She took some tongs and pulled out a pasty looking lump of an unknown substance and put it on a plate. "Spaghetti."

Eb looked warily at the meal and sighed. "Well, you could always buy him a gift," he suggested. Lisa shot him an annoyed look and Eb immediately turned his attention back to his coffee, sheepishly glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Lisa was about to open her mouth to retort, but just then the back door flew open and Oliver stalked in. He stormed past them without a word and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

Lisa sighed and wiped her hands on a cloth. Vell, she thought, here goes nothing. She put a friendly smile on her face and turned from the stove to greet her husband when he walked back in, hoping beyond hope that his foul mood will have been lifted when he returned.

Greetings, readers! Well, I know this story is off to a bit of a slow, short start, but I promise it'll get better. I hope you all continue to read and review my story! Bye!