The Sowing Season Read online

  He scoffed. Nothing better to do? What did she think he did all day? Watch cooking shows, talk to Daisy, and wait around for the mail to show up?

  The kid with the black hair came to mind. Morgan. That look on his face . . . it was clear he never expected to see Gerrit again. He had the look of someone all too accustomed to being disappointed.

  Gerrit had seen that look before.

  Rae waved the paper in his face. “At least think about it.”

  He snatched it from her hand. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

  She smiled and gave her cat a hug. “Come on, Mister. Let’s go home.” She waved at him. “Bye, Gerrit.”

  He managed a small nod. He’d almost be able to like the kid if she wasn’t so infuriating. She hopped out, strolled into the woods, and disappeared down the shortcut trail before he could ask himself what he was doing sitting in his Dodge with a rooster on his lap.

  Daisy was waiting when he climbed out of the truck, carefully holding the box with one hand on each end. Bernard the Terrible had been quiet during the drive home, but one small bark from Daisy got him riled up again. The rooster clawed at the box like he was buried alive. Gerrit had not considered the repercussions of introducing Daisy to a rooster.

  Bernard’s unnatural screech sent a chill down his spine as he shut the truck door with his foot. What should he do now? Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?

  “Gerrit.”

  He turned to see George huffing and puffing down his driveway, one arm raised as if hailing a cab. Ah yes. That was why.

  George’s face was not exactly friendly. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  The box gave a violent shudder and slipped from Gerrit’s hands. Bernard exploded from the torn-up cardboard the instant it hit the ground and immediately became entangled with Daisy. Daisy yelped in surprise. Gerrit kicked at the rooster.

  It wasn’t how he pictured exacting his revenge on George for leaving that ultrasound picture of his granddaughter in his mailbox.

  No.

  It was a hundred times better.

  Bernard took off down the drive like a jet on the runway, flapping his wings and heading straight for Mr. I’m-Going-to-Be-a-Grandpa. George’s eyes bugged out, and he took a step back, then tripped over himself as he turned to run like all the demons of hell were after him.

  Gerrit hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Gerrit never even knew what an éclair was before this week, but the batch turned out quite nicely. He whistled as he applied the last of the chocolate frosting, glad he’d had the foresight to make both it and the filling earlier in the day. Chef Kellan hadn’t been kidding when he said this was a time-consuming recipe.

  Dinner was reheated leftovers, but he hoped the éclairs would make up for it. He checked the time. Hannie had said she’d be home “around six.” It was 6:09.

  He glanced out the window every thirty seconds. Had Hannie done the same thing back in the day? When they’d first met, he couldn’t imagine keeping a woman like her waiting. She was so perfect and beautiful. So out of his league. He’d fallen for her the first day but had kept his distance in the beginning, afraid of what might happen when she met Luke. What woman would choose him when there was a man like Luke around?

  His father had not been subtle about his desire for Luke to settle down, give him grandsons to carry on the family name, and run the farm. Hannie would’ve been the perfect match for him. A good churchgoing girl. Strong Dutch heritage. Just what his father wanted for Luke.

  But Hannie had chosen him.

  He looked out the window again. There she was. His stomach did a funny little swoop, and he ran a hand through his hair.

  His wife was home.

  “THESE ARE AMAZING.” Hannie took another bite and closed her eyes. “It’s like eating heaven.”

  Gerrit nodded to himself. The leftover clam chowder had been uninspiring, but the éclairs were going over better than he’d hoped.

  Hannie licked frosting from her lips. “If we had these at the shop, we’d have to turn customers away.”

  Well now. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “They’re pretty good for my first try, I guess.”

  She laughed. “They’re delicious. And you look like that rooster I saw when I was coming in, strutting around like that.”

  A chuckle stalled out in his throat. He’d completely forgotten about Bernard. He hadn’t realized the psychotic creature had shown back up after running George off the property.

  “Uh . . . rooster?”

  “Yeah, he was sitting on the fence and acting like he owned the place. He must’ve escaped from somewhere.”

  A small bead of frosting clung to her chin. He stared at it, struck by the smoothness of her skin and how it was the color of thick cream. How her dark rose blouse brought out the pink in her cheeks. Could she really be nearly sixty? Looking at her, it was almost as if they were in their twenties again, sneaking kisses in the barn and skinny-dipping in the river by moonlight.

  Gerrit’s eyes moved from her chin to her lips, and something long forgotten twinged in his chest.

  He stilled.

  Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it.

  The distraction brought a flood of both relief and disappointment. He shook himself free from the desire to kiss her.

  “That’s strange.” Hannie indicated a text message on her phone. “Agatha seems to think that rooster is ours.”

  Right. Bernard. He’d forgotten again. What would be the best way to break the news?

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Her crow’s feet appeared as she laid her phone on the table. “You have that look on your face.”

  He had no idea what look that was, but he’d never get away with lying. She was way too smart for that, and he knew better than to mess with the crow’s feet.

  “Tell me we don’t own a rooster, Gerrit.”

  He picked up an éclair and studied it with great interest. “He needed a good home. He was free.”

  She sank a little deeper in her chair. “And what are we going to do with him?”

  “I don’t know yet. Rae found him.”

  “Rae again, huh? So this is her fault?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Is it true the rooster attacked George?”

  Attacked was a strong word. The dumb fowl was in a panic, and George happened to be in the way. It wasn’t Bernard’s fault George had come over uninvited at precisely the wrong time.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What is it with you and George? This isn’t still about the money, is it?”

  Gerrit’s jaw clenched.

  “I can’t believe this.” Hannie huffed. “That was years ago. Why do you keep insisting on causing trouble?”

  He blinked. He didn’t want to cause trouble. Did he? “I . . . uh . . .”

  “Here.” She went and grabbed a paper plate from a drawer in the kitchen and placed the remaining éclairs on it. “You can bring the rest of these to him as a peace offering.”

  Gerrit stared at the plate. No way was he going over there to grovel. George was the one who wouldn’t stop bragging about his grandbaby. George was the one who came running over without warning. He’d been trying to make Gerrit’s life miserable for years. Ever since . . .

  “Fine.” Hannie sighed. “I’ll do it myself.”

  Daisy followed Hannie out the back door, and Gerrit jumped when it slammed shut with a bang. Why did it feel like no matter what he did, he was letting someone down? He thought of his earlier conversation with Noah. “I don’t know, Dad,” he’d said. “But if Evi decides to go, I’ll try to make it.” When had he become someone who had to beg his own children to visit him? He would call his daughter again tomorrow.

  A piece of paper on the counter caught his eye. The volunteer application for the Community Hope program. He snatched it up. The look that Morgan kid had given him, the one that
said he’d given up expecting anything from anyone . . . it reminded him of Evi.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  Hannie stood in the hall in a floral dress, her shoulder-length hair curled. Her red open-toed shoes matched her purse and made Gerrit wonder what she would think if she could see the state of his bare feet. He’d need a chisel to trim up his toenails. That was if his back was having a good day and he could even reach his toes.

  She looked like one of the bouquets from her shop. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s Easter Sunday.”

  He glanced down at the clothes he was wearing. Everything he owned looked disheveled and misshapen. She had mentioned they would need to go shopping if he was going to be out and about in public, but it hadn’t happened.

  He shook his head. “I’ve got to read the paper yet.”

  “You can read the newspaper anytime.” She stared at him with reproach. “It might do you some good to go back to church, you know.”

  Ha. Little did she know he’d been in a church only two days ago. It certainly hadn’t done him any good.

  She eyed his wrinkled shirt. “There’s got to be something decent in this house you could wear.”

  There wasn’t. He’d looked. He picked at his fingernails.

  “All right, then.” She raised one hand and headed out the door. “See you in a couple hours.”

  He watched through the window to make sure she made it to the car without being accosted by Bernard. To say that feathered beast was temperamental would be like saying the Sound was a mud puddle. Gerrit had heard him loud and clear that morning, announcing the sun’s arrival at the top of his lungs, but he was nowhere in sight now.

  Hannie slipped gracefully into her old gray Toyota Corolla and drove away. How much longer was that thing going to run? It had already been used when they bought it fifteen years ago. He scowled. One more expense to worry about.

  She disappeared down the road. Part of him admired her dedication. Her faith. She went to church every Sunday without fail, as if tragedy had never struck. As if their lives hadn’t been crumbling around them for decades. As if it mattered.

  Luke used to have faith like that. He used to tell Gerrit there was nothing the world could offer that was worth giving your life for. He’d said God was the only thing worth everything. But God’s reward to Luke for his unwavering devotion was to crush him like a caterpillar under His almighty foot.

  Gerrit forced his shoulders to relax, his fists to unclench. He didn’t want God to see how it still affected him, after all this time. Wouldn’t give God the satisfaction. Instead, he shifted his attention to more important matters.

  It was now only five weeks until Memorial Day weekend. He’d chickened out on calling Evi yesterday, but this morning was the perfect opportunity with Hannie gone and Evi off work. He could use Easter as an excuse.

  His phone waited for him on the counter. Hannie’s phone had all sorts of fancy buttons on the screen that could perform all sorts of wizardry, while he only used his for making calls. As far as he was concerned, that was what a phone was supposed to be for. Alexander Graham Bell would roll over in his grave if he could see the newfangled devices these days.

  Hannie used to try to talk him out of his flip phone and convince him of the virtues of a smartphone, but she’d given up on that. A sharp stick of discomfort fell into his stomach straight from his heart, like a branch falling from a tree with a crash. With regard to her husband, was there anything left Hannie hadn’t given up on?

  She hadn’t given up inviting him to church. Stubborn woman.

  His mother used to say the only person more stubborn than a Dutchman was a Dutchman’s wife. Ha.

  He picked up his phone and plopped into an armchair to make the call. He punched the correct buttons, then braced himself.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He tensed. She’d answered. And she knew it was him.

  “Hello.”

  Silence. Daisy sat at his feet, giving him a supportive look. More silence. Why would his daughter answer the phone if she didn’t plan to talk to him?

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You called me, remember?”

  “Oh.”

  “Unbelievable.” Her voice was muffled now, like she had turned away from the phone and was talking to herself. “He doesn’t even know how to talk on the phone.”

  He cleared his throat. “Happy Easter.”

  “Really?”

  It was a perfectly normal thing for a parent to call their child about, wasn’t it?

  He tried again. “I found a recipe for baked ziti.”

  This time the silence buzzed with tension.

  “You called to tell me about a recipe you found?”

  “It’s vegetarian.”

  “Okaaay.”

  He pressed the phone to his ear. “I’m going to make it for Memorial Day.”

  Daisy’s face went from supportive to downright sympathetic. He didn’t know how much more silence he could handle.

  “You have the day off work, right?” He squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate, not wanting to miss any sound, any clue that might give him a hint about what she was thinking. “There’s no reason you can’t come up—”

  “I can think of a few reasons.”

  He knew better than to ask.

  “Please, Evi. Your mother wants to see you.”

  Daisy laid her head on the floor and covered her face with her paws.

  “I see. So this is all to make Mom happy?” Evi’s words came fast and strong. “You don’t actually care whether I come or not.”

  He pressed a fist to his forehead. “I care.”

  “Since when?”

  The question was like a torpedo. He was the target. He’d always cared. He still remembered the day Evi was born and how small and delicate and beautiful she looked in his callused hands. How he’d loved her so much he thought he would die from it. But what could he say now? He’d never stopped caring about her. Only about making sure she knew.

  “I care.” He said it again, no other words coming when he needed them most. It was like his heart and mind might burst with all the things he knew and felt and feared, yet his mouth could not accommodate them all.

  He strained to hear a response, any response, but instead heard only a man’s voice in the background.

  Evi sighed. “I gotta go, Dad. Travis is here. Bye.”

  Click.

  She kept doing that to him. Hanging up. It wasn’t as though he was asking for much. Just a short visit over a long weekend. He wanted to see his kids and talk to them. Tell them he was sorry he hadn’t done better. Been better. They deserved that.

  He was beginning to see how little was left of him now that the farm was gone. Maybe there hadn’t been much there before, either. He’d just hidden the emptiness of his life behind stacks of hay and a herd of cows. Maybe he deserved to be hung up on.

  Oh, Evi. His baby girl.

  Wait a minute. He pressed a fist against the arm of the chair.

  Who was Travis?

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Four minutes wasn’t much time to get from one class to the next. Rae hurried to her locker to fetch her math book and found Kylee waiting there.

  Kylee half smiled. “Have you run anyone over yet?”

  “That’s not funny.” Rae pulled the locker open and scrambled to organize her backpack. “My first official drive is next Monday morning.”

  “I’ll be sure to stay off the roads until after lunch.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Rae shut the locker door and checked the time. Two minutes. Not enough time to stop at the bathroom if she was going to get all the way to B Wing. She fell into step beside Kylee, who was headed to B Wing, too.

  “Rae, wait up.”

  She looked over her shoulder. David. She tried to keep her face from revealing anything, but Kylee was looking right at her with a knowing smirk. She and
David were just friends. Still, she liked hearing her name on his lips.

  She slowed her step. “Hey, David.”

  The color of his shirt made his eyes look like chocolate. She loved chocolate.

  He smiled at her. “Are you going to Community Hope today?”

  Kylee turned to face him, walking backward now. “What do you care? Are you stalking her or something?”

  Rae glared at her. She was trying to get a rise out of David or Rae or both of them. That was how Kylee operated.

  “Stop it, Ky.”

  David held up his hands. “No stalking, I promise. I was just wondering because I’m volunteering now, too.”

  “Is that so?” Kylee raised her eyebrows at Rae as she continued walking backward, plowing over anyone unfortunate enough to be in the middle of the hall. “For some reason, Rae hasn’t mentioned that.”

  Rae reached for Kylee’s shoulders and spun her back around. “Watch where you’re going. And I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if he was going to come back or not.”

  “Well, I am.” He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his backpack. “Are you?”

  She avoided his tantalizing eyes. She was pretty sure his next class wasn’t in B Wing. He was going to be late. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you out front after school, then.”

  “Okay.”

  “And maybe I’ll see you at lunch.”

  He peeled off and headed in the other direction before she could answer. She watched him go, hoping he wouldn’t look back and catch her. He did. She gasped and bumped into an upperclassman.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  Kylee’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Watch where you’re going.”

  She could feel her face burning but was powerless to stop it.

  Kylee gave her a smug look. “This is an interesting development.”

  She tried to appear casual. “What?”

  “You know what. You and David.”

  “There is no me and David. You’re the one who wants to go out with Seth.” She quickened her pace. If she could get to her class before—

  “Oh, please.” Kylee was grinning like a goose. “Seth is old news. And you’re trying to change the subject. David’s obsessed with you.”