Chapter 13
As far as cities went, Portland was a good one. Beck had spent all of his formative years a scant forty-five minutes away in Newberg, but trips to the city were always a real treat. As much as he loved the farm—the trees, the green, the crisp, fresh air, and the wide open spaces—he’d always been a little enamored of the hustle of the city. As a kid it had seemed like a different world, and he was always eager to go. But he usually couldn’t wait to get home again.
That feeling intensified tenfold when he was forced off the farm and lived in Portland for five years. It was still a great city, but he missed the farm too much to really love it. Coming back after such a long stretch away was like visiting a good friend. He’d enjoy his time there but be happy to say goodbye when the
