The Sowing Season Read online

  He grunted. She hadn’t known. So she and the kids had gone about their lives without him. Never expecting. Never waiting. And then the kids had grown up, and Hannie had opened her shop and kept right on living without him.

  Hannie sat down at the table. “I do appreciate your making dinner.”

  He quickly filled her glass with water from the sink, his chest inflating. “I put a lot of work into this lasagna.”

  Her mouth twitched. “I can see that.”

  He joined her at the table and glanced at the two empty chairs, a nearly forgotten image filling his mind. He and Hannie and the kids holding hands around the table, praying. Thanking God for their food as Luke had taught them to do. It had been so easy to believe in God back then.

  Hannie leaned her elbows on the table and gave him a sideways look. “I got an interesting text from Agatha about an hour ago.”

  Oh, great. Gerrit hid a grimace as he scooped a medium-sized piece of lasagna onto her plate. There were no secrets around here.

  “Apparently there was a hit-and-run on their mailbox.” Hannie picked up her fork and pointed it at him. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  He mumbled something about drivers being crazy these days and shoveled the biggest bite of pasta he could manage into his mouth. The tips of his ears began to burn. But Hannie didn’t need to know, and the mailbox would be easy to fix. After what George had taken from him back in the day—the nerve he’d had then—he could hardly complain now. Besides, it had been an accident.

  He chewed harder, covering up his satisfaction. An accident that saved him the purchase of a rooster. Ha. What a day it had been. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much excitement.

  The girl’s question from earlier sprang to his mind. About whether Hannie liked working at The Daisy Chain. He finished his bite and glanced at his wife, who was giving him a suspicious look.

  “Did you have a good day at work?”

  The faintest hint of a smile appeared. “It was good and bad. The good part was that even though I was shorthanded, we still had one of our biggest days since Valentine’s weekend.”

  “Good.” He spoke around a lump in his throat. “That’s real good.”

  He used to buy flowers for Hannie on Valentine’s Day. Luke had insisted. “Gotta treat your lady right,” he’d always say. Luke was probably the only reason Gerrit had managed to marry Hannie in the first place. He’d picked out Gerrit’s clothes, made suggestions about where to take her for a date. He’d even helped Gerrit select Hannie’s engagement ring and forced him to practice his proposal out loud in the old red barn with a hundred cows looking on.

  Was there anything Hannie had ever seen in him that Luke hadn’t put there?

  “What was the bad part?”

  Hannie leaned her chin on her hand and groaned. “The boiler’s on the fritz again. The guy who came to look at it thinks it needs to be replaced, but getting a new one installed would cost at least five thousand dollars.”

  He whistled.

  “Tell me about it.” She sat up and tilted her head at him. “How about you? Did you have a good day?”

  He caught Daisy’s eye and could’ve sworn she winked. He ignored her. “Uh, yes. It was good.” He stabbed at his food. How many times could he use the word good in one conversation?

  “Well, good.” Hannie’s eyes twinkled a little as if mocking him. “What did you do?”

  “I called Evi.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh?”

  “She said she’s busy.”

  Hannie stared at him as if she knew that wasn’t all their daughter had said. “That’s too bad. What about Noah?”

  He shook his head and stared at his plate. “Maybe I’ll try him tomorrow.”

  If he could work up the nerve. At least Noah wasn’t a vegetarian, so he couldn’t mess that up. A thought struck him. What if Evi talked to Noah before he did? Would she convince him to turn Gerrit down?

  Hannie set down her fork and laid her hand over his. He started at her touch, the soft pressure of it somehow seeping through his leathery hide like a salve until he could feel it all the way to his bones.

  “It’s going to take some time.” She gave a small squeeze and moved her hand away again. “The kids have a right to be angry.”

  The gentleness of her voice touched his heart. He watched her hand reach for her glass, longing for it to touch him again. To heal him.

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t know what else to say.

  She took a bite of the broccoli that had been steamed beyond recognition. “What else did you do today?”

  He pushed the lemon pepper toward her plate. If she was going to eat the broccoli, she might as well season it. “Nothing, really. Checked the mail. Helped Rae with—um—something.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And who’s Rae?”

  His palms began to sweat. Why had he brought that up? It was like his mouth was conspiring against him.

  He shrugged. “A kid who lives on the other side of the trees. Down in that fancy Evergreen neighborhood. She, uh, is interested in our barn.”

  Hannie looked reflective. “I thought I’d seen a young girl snooping around back there before.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want you to freak out. She wasn’t causing any trouble.”

  “I wouldn’t freak out!” He sat back, his outburst hanging in the air like an incriminating cloud. He mashed his lips together. Yep. Definitely a conspiracy.

  Hannie gave him an amused look. “You’re right. My apologies.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. He chanced a glance at her.

  She was smiling as she finished her meal and began clearing the table. “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared that up, what were you doing with Rae? Calculus homework?”

  His head shot up in surprise. Was that a joke? She knew he despised math. Was she teasing him? Her grin confirmed his suspicions.

  He smiled back, warmed by the memory of long conversations with Hannie in the silage truck when they would laugh and laugh. “I don’t think she’s old enough for that. We just went to the movies.”

  Hannie’s grin faded. “The movies?”

  His body stilled. Her voice had changed. Something was wrong. “Yeah, the mailbox movie.”

  She dropped the dirty silverware in the sink. “But I thought we were going—”

  “You said you didn’t want to go.”

  His words were pinched. Desperate. She had said that, hadn’t she? He frantically tried to remember their conversation, tried to remember exactly what she’d said, but the only thing he was sure of was the gut instinct he’d struck out big-time.

  Her eyes locked on his, disappointment as clear as a winter morning flashing inside them. “No I didn’t.”

  The words were soft and low, almost a whisper, but they hit him like the business end of a pitchfork. He forced his mouth not to open, not to speak, sure he would only make it worse. This was the longest conversation they’d had in years, and he’d seen her. The Hannie he used to know. The one who used to love him.

  But he’d messed it up.

  He watched helplessly as she slowly, deliberately covered the leftover lasagna with aluminum foil, set the pan on the top shelf of the fridge, and walked away.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  The bell rang, and Rae sprang from her seat. If she hurried, she could beat the other students to Room F and help set up the snacks again. On Monday she’d managed to be the first student there, and Mark had appreciated her help getting ready. Especially since they’d lost two volunteers last week.

  Someone pulled on her backpack as she dashed through the crowded hallway. “Whoa, slow down. Where’s the fire?”

  She turned to find David walking behind her, a relaxed half smile on his face. Was it her imagination, or was he cuter today than yesterday?

  She gave a small wave. “Hey. Just trying to beat the crowd.”r />
  “Where are you going?”

  “Across the street.” Maybe if she walked faster, he’d give up on her. “I’ve been volunteering at that Community Hope program.”

  He picked up his pace to keep up with her. “I saw a poster for that on the bulletin board.”

  She slowed down—a hair—and gave him a pointed look. “They need more volunteers. . . .”

  He shrugged. “Sure, I could probably do it.”

  She dodged a freshman and tried to hide her surprise. Bringing up the program was supposed to be a surefire way to end the conversation. Most boys she knew had no interest in taking on extra work, especially at a church. Of course, David had never been like most boys she knew.

  “It’s basically just tutoring other kids, right?” He chuckled. “I’m not as smart as you, but I could at least point someone in the right direction.”

  Today would be her fourth time at Community Hope, and she’d been enjoying it. None of the students there cared that she was a straight A student or star athlete. None of them cared about The Plan. They only knew she was one of the few people trying to keep them from failing out of school. She wasn’t too sure she wanted to risk David coming in and changing that.

  “You have to fill out a volunteer application.” She pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and stepped outside. “You can download it from their website and bring it on Monday.”

  “Don’t they have any applications on hand?”

  She pictured Mark’s clipboard. “Maybe.”

  David smiled. “Then I’ll tag along and see if I can find one. If that’s all right with you.”

  She didn’t know if that was all right with her actually, but she could hardly turn away a willing-and-able volunteer. Not after complaining to Mark about the lack of help.

  “Okay.”

  They skirted the crowd of students waiting to be picked up, slipped between two buses, and jogged across Fallow Drive.

  “You got Driver’s Ed. tonight?” David asked.

  “Yes.”

  It had started Monday. Seven to nine every weeknight for three weeks. The first two days of class had been uneventful, boring even, but that hadn’t prevented her recurring nightmare from getting worse. The one where she’s driving down a hill out of control toward two people shrouded in shadow.

  They reached the front door of the church, and David rushed to open it for her. “How’s it going so far?”

  She held back a shudder. “Fine.”

  The incident on Friday with Mr. Laninga, which had ruined an otherwise happy day, hadn’t helped with her nightmare situation. Now, in her dream, the two people were surrounded by mailboxes, and she could hear them crying out as she careened wildly down the hill. Lovely.

  Mr. Laninga had assured her his neighbor’s mailbox would be fine, but she hadn’t been back to his house to check on it. She was nervous about facing him again.

  She led David to Room F, where Mark was scrambling to set eight chairs around each table. David jumped in to help while she got to work on the snack table. Other students would arrive any minute, and they always went for the snacks before doing anything else.

  A small group of middle-school girls, including Taylor, came in first.

  Rae waved. “Hey, Taylor. How’d your English test go today?”

  They’d spent the whole session on Monday studying for it with little progress. Taylor kept spouting wrong answers even after they’d gone over the material a hundred times, but Rae suspected this wasn’t because she didn’t get it.

  Taylor shrugged. “Got a D.”

  Rae frowned. Taylor was capable of more. She was sure of it. But why wouldn’t Taylor apply herself? Why didn’t she care about school? She didn’t seem to care about anything except maintaining the protective attitude she wore like a bulletproof vest.

  Taylor walked away, and Rae dragged David back over to Mark and asked if he had any volunteer applications printed out.

  He grinned. “Sure do.” He took one from his clipboard and handed it to David. “Here you go. But there’s no time to work on this now. We’re swamped.”

  Rae looked around at all the kids waiting for help. “But he can’t volunteer without the application.”

  “Rules are the difference between order and chaos,” Dad always said. He had taught her to ignore them at her own peril.

  Mark wagged his unkempt eyebrows. “Can you vouch for him? Just for today?”

  He must assume she knew David pretty well. Her cheeks warmed. “I guess so.”

  “Great.” Mark held out his hand for David to shake. “Welcome aboard. Let’s get to work.”

  Rae watched Mark lead David to a table of rowdy middle-school boys and leave him there to fend for himself. She felt a little guilty for getting David into this, but it had been his choice to jump right in. Now he’d have to sink or swim.

  She made her way to the table where Taylor sat and plopped down beside her. “What happened with that English test?”

  Taylor shoved some pretzels in her mouth and rolled her eyes.

  “Did you study last night?”

  She shrugged. “I was busy.”

  “You need to make schoolwork a priority, Taylor.”

  How many times had Dad told her that?

  “Yes, Mother.” Taylor smirked.

  “I’m serious.” Rae hated to nag, but this was important. “You could fail seventh grade.”

  “Ugh, you keep saying that.” Taylor finished off the bag of pretzels and took a swig of Gatorade. “I got a D. I passed.”

  The Gatorade left a red mustache on her petite, waifish face. Rae couldn’t hold back a smile.

  Taylor scowled. “What’s your problem?”

  It was Rae’s turn to shrug. “Nothing.”

  “Can we get to work already?” Taylor pulled a couple of books from her backpack. “You’re being weird.”

  WITH TWENTY MINUTES left in the session, Taylor’s homework was finished, including three makeup assignments.

  Rae clapped her hands twice and grinned. “See? I knew you could do it.”

  “Whatever.” Taylor put everything back in her pack. “Can I get my phone out now?”

  The rule was no phones until all the work was done. When Rae nodded, Taylor pulled out a new-looking iPhone.

  Rae leaned in to look at it. “Wow. Sweet phone.”

  Taylor waved her away. “Steve got it for me. My mom’s boyfriend.”

  She said the name Steve as if it were a curse word. Rae had never heard that hollowness in her voice before.

  “That was nice of him.”

  Taylor shrank into herself, her already tiny frame nearly disappearing as if engulfed in shadow. “It’s just so I’ll stay out of his hair.”

  Rae knew she had no right to make a snap judgment, and she had nothing to go on aside from the look on Taylor’s face, but she decided she didn’t like this Steve guy.

  She waited for more of the story, but Taylor was done sharing. With a barely suppressed sigh of frustration, she left Taylor to Snapchat on her brand-new iPhone in peace, thinking about what Mark had said about kids not wanting to go home. To what lengths would a thirteen-year-old like Taylor go to avoid going home?

  David was engaged in a lively discussion about NBA players at his table, but he caught Rae looking at him and gave her a playful smile. She smiled back. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having him here.

  She looked around for a new job, since Taylor had dismissed her. Mark was in the hallway doing a routine shenanigans check, as he called it. No matter how many times he told the students that only one person was allowed to go to the bathroom at a time, a group of kids always managed to sneak off and cause trouble.

  She stuck her head out of the room to see if he was on his way back. He was standing between two shouting boys with his arms out, keeping them from swinging at each other. She pulled her head back into the room. That looked serious. Might take a while. She was on her own.

  In his usual corner, the boy wi
th black hair sat alone with his back to the rest of the kids. He was bent over a red notebook, earbuds in his ears. Everything about him screamed Stay away. She should leave him alone, yet something unexplainable pulled at her. Like he was calling her name. Or someone was.

  Before she could think it through, she found herself walking up behind him. Pulling out a chair. Sitting down. And waiting.

  He didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. She should move along, but it was too late. She had committed. He worked away in his notebook, his pencil scritch-scratching the paper.

  After a long minute, she scooted her chair a little closer. “Hi.”

  Even with the earbuds in, he had to know she was there. Why was he ignoring her? Probably because he didn’t want to be bothered, of course. She should leave him alone.

  “What’s your name?”

  She spoke loud enough to be heard over whatever music was blasting his eardrums. His pencil paused for a second, then resumed its scribbling. She looked around the room. There were plenty of other kids she could be helping. Kids who were desperate for attention. She was about to concede defeat and stand up when the boy’s pencil stopped again.

  “Morgan.”

  She leaned back in her chair slowly, as if any sudden movements might frighten him away. “Hi, Morgan. I’m Rae.”

  He didn’t look up. “I know who you are.”

  “You go to Greenville High?”

  Mark had told her the students in the program came from three different middle schools and two high schools, Greenville High and Stillaguamish. She’d assumed this boy went to Stillaguamish, but he nodded in answer to her question.

  She looked at him closely. Behind the hair, his face was vaguely familiar. They certainly didn’t have any classes together this year, but maybe they’d been in the same class when they were younger.

  “Are you a sophomore, too?”

  He pulled one earbud out. “Senior.”

  Oh. She didn’t interact with many seniors. How would he know her?