The Sowing Season Page 9

  “But we were in third grade together,” he continued. “Mrs. Baker.”

  A faint memory of a quiet blond kid who was afraid of his own shadow took shape. “Morgan West?”

  He nodded.

  “You dyed your hair.”

  He looked up. His sharp blue eyes took her in, daring her to back down. She held his gaze.

  “Wait a minute.” She folded her arms on the table. “We were in third grade together, and now you’re two years ahead of me? And everyone says I’m smart.”

  The hint of a smile flashed across his face and was gone. “They moved me up a grade in sixth, then when I got to high school I started doing independent study classes so I could graduate early.” He pulled out his other earbud. “And I took a few community college classes last summer to get more credits.”

  Why had she never thought of that? Dad would probably salivate at the idea of Rae graduating early. One less year to wait before he had the summa cum laude Columbia graduate daughter he dreamed of.

  Morgan set his notebook on the table, and she shifted, trying to get a look at what he was working on. He snatched it away.

  Okay, okay. She could take a hint. She leaned back and looked around the room. “If you’re graduating early, what are you doing here?”

  He fiddled with his pencil and bounced his knee, staring at his earbuds as if itching to put them back in.

  Mark called from the doorway. “Time’s up, guys. It’s five o’clock. You don’t have to go home—”

  “But you can’t stay here.” The students finished the now-familiar line, rolling their eyes.

  A shadow darkened Morgan’s face. He quickly closed his notebook, shoved it in his bag, and stood.

  She jumped up, too. “I guess I’ll see you next week.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder, his piercing eyes scrutinizing her from head to toe. She fought the urge to inspect her clothes. Was she a mess? No, she was fastidious about her appearance. Dad had drilled it into her head that lawyers needed to make a good first impression at all times. But then what was Morgan looking at? Or for? He gave an almost imperceptible nod and strode from the room.

  David appeared at her elbow. “Hey. That was fun.” He followed her gaze to the figure disappearing into the hall. “Make a new friend?”

  She looked into David’s soft brown eyes. So welcoming and gentle. So unlike Morgan’s. Part of her wanted to tell David who Morgan was. He’d been in Mrs. Baker’s third grade class, too. But something held her back. While Morgan hadn’t said anything about keeping it a secret, it felt almost as though it would be a betrayal of his trust to say anything.

  “I’ve been trying to meet all the students.” She gave him a smile. “How’d your first time go?”

  “Great. But there’s not enough of me to go around. Some of these kids need a lot of help.”

  Her eyes darted back to the door where Morgan had gone. And some apparently don’t need any.

  At the door, Mark held a fist out to David for a pound and nodded at Rae. “You got any more helpers up your sleeve?”

  She shook her head. “I’m working on it.”

  “We decided to add another session on Fridays, but only for hanging out. There seems to be a real need for a safe place to hang out after school.”

  “So you don’t need volunteers on Friday?”

  “No.” He nodded for them to go ahead and then locked the door behind them. “But we still need more on Mondays and Wednesdays. And you guys are great and all, but we could use some more mature help, you know?”

  David grabbed his chest as if hurt by the remark. “Are you saying we’re not mature?”

  Mark shooed them down the hall and laughed. “I meant older. These kids need positive adult influences.”

  Rae and David stepped outside and said good-bye to Mark. She scanned the parking lot for her mom’s car but didn’t see it. When she checked her phone, a text told her Mom was running a few minutes late because she’d been with Grandma Kate.

  “Need a ride home?” David asked.

  “My mom’s coming.”

  “I’ll wait with you.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “You don’t have to.”

  He caught her looking and grinned. “I don’t mind.”

  She looked away and peered down the road, hoping to see a navy blue Ford Explorer. No such luck. David’s nearness made her feel tingly. What would it be like to hold his hand? Feel his arm around her waist? Her cheeks grew warm. For heaven’s sake, what was she thinking? She and David had been friends a long time. She’d never felt awkward around him before.

  “You really had fun?” She fought to keep her tone light, her expression unconcerned. “Those middle-school boys didn’t scare you off?”

  “No way.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  She swallowed hard. That was exactly what she was afraid of.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Friday. Finally. Rae waved her appreciation to Kylee for the ride and hurried into the house. She wasn’t usually so glad for the school week to be over, but her first week of Driver’s Ed. had her nerves frayed. Thank goodness for early release on Fridays.

  Mr. Whiskers was waiting inside the door, and she scooped him into her arms. He clearly had no stress in his life.

  She rubbed his ears. “You lucky duck.”

  So far, all they’d done in class was watch a few instructional videos and sit around listening to Mr. Fletcher lecture them about safety. Still, knowing she had to go to another Driver’s Ed. session after dinner almost made her break out in hives. It was the last thing she wanted to do on a Friday night.

  “Mr. Fletcher’s always staring right at me,” she muttered. Mr. Whiskers craned his neck to look up at her. “It’s like he knows about the mailbox.”

  The lethargic feline yawned.

  “Thanks a lot. Your breath smells like rotten fish.” She set her backpack down and carried the fat cat into the kitchen. “Mom?”

  She grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and glanced at the calendar on the wall, her heart rate rising. At the end of class last night, Mr. Fletcher had said, “Make sure and sign up for a drive time on your way out.” She had seen other kids huddled around the clipboard, eager to choose a time and date on the schedule and write down their names, but she had left without looking at it. If she went on an assigned drive, her secret would be out. And yet if she didn’t sign up, she’d fail the class.

  She’d have to sign up tonight.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother was usually only a couple of steps behind Mr. Whiskers with a greeting after school. Where was she? Rae walked down the hall and peeked into the living room. No Mom. She checked her phone. No messages.

  She turned on her heels and walked to the other end of the house. Her parents’ bedroom was off-limits. Nevertheless, she put a hand on the door, and it swung open.

  Mom was sitting on her bed, holding her wedding ring in her palm. She stared at it as if searching for something important.

  “Mom?”

  She looked up, startled. “Oh. Hi, sweetie.” She slid the ring back on her finger and pasted on a smile. “Home already?”

  Rae eyed her suspiciously. “Early release on Fridays, remember?”

  “Oh. Right.” Mom stood and joined Rae in the hall. “Can I get you a snack?”

  “I had one.” Rae walked with Mom back to the kitchen. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . thinking.”

  Rae noted the dark circles under her mom’s eyes. “How was Grandma today?”

  “Fine, sweetie. Everything is just fine.”

  RAE TRUDGED THROUGH the woods toward Mr. Laninga’s barn, Mr. Whiskers tucked snugly inside her zipped-up hoodie. Everything was most certainly not fine. The long hairs on the tips of the cat’s ears tickled her chin, but she was too distracted to find it endearing. Something was up with Mom, and whatever it was, Rae didn’t like it. No
t one bit.

  A cold feeling bloomed in her chest as she pictured the way Mom had looked at her wedding ring. Could she and Dad be thinking about getting a . . . No. She wouldn’t even think the D-word. Mom was upset about Grandma Kate. That was all.

  The back of the barn came into view through the trees. She began to relax. It was the perfect place to hide from her life.

  As she rounded the barn, she spotted Mr. Laninga standing in the middle of the driveway, staring at a piece of paper. He faced the house as if he had meant to go in but then something had stopped him. His profile was grim. The crunch of her shoes on the gravel didn’t catch his attention. Daisy trotted over to her, tail wagging, and still he didn’t notice. Whatever was on that piece of paper must have been important.

  She considered sneaking into the barn and leaving him to his reverie, but she never could leave well enough alone.

  “Hello, Mr. Laninga.” She stopped a few feet away to give him space.

  He whirled around, crumpling the paper in his fist. His eyes flashed for a second, then dropped to the ground. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “Nice to see you, too. What have you got there?”

  He shoved it in his pocket. “Nothing.”

  “Okaaay.” She jerked a thumb at the barn. “I was heading in there. Is that all right?”

  “Sure, sure.” He waved an arm absent-mindedly. “Do whatever you want. I was just leaving.”

  He was clearly in a sour mood. Even so, she couldn’t help but ask, “Where are you going?”

  He looked at her for the first time. Squinted at her bulging cat-filled hoodie. Rubbed his chin. “I need to find a rooster.”

  “A rooster?”

  “Yep.”

  She had no experience with farm animals. “Do they sell those at the pet store or . . . ?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  “Have you tried Craigslist? You can find anything on Craigslist.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Who’s Craig?”

  Oh, this was just too much. She smiled. “No one. It’s an online thing. People post stuff for sale or for free so other people can find it.” She pulled out her phone and brought up the website, then held it out to him. “See?”

  “Well?” He raised his eyebrows. “They got any roosters on there?”

  A quick search revealed several possibilities. Two that were local.

  “There’s one on Meadow Lane for free. And one down at Cole’s Corner, but I don’t think you’d want that one.”

  He perked up. “Why not?”

  She pointed at the screen. “Says here they’re getting rid of it because it’s too loud and obnoxious. ‘Would be more comfortable out in the country.’”

  “That sounds perfect.” A mischievous light sparked in his eyes. “Let’s go. And you can call me Gerrit.”

  He jogged over to his back door before she could wonder how she had gotten roped into this strange adventure. He’d hardly even heard her address him when she’d first arrived and now they were teaming up for something? With a sudden spring in his step, he grabbed a set of keys from inside the door and strode to his truck.

  She watched him. “I don’t think my mom would approve of my calling you Gerrit.”

  Rae’s mother had spent her whole life insisting Rae use the proper terms of respect for everyone, just like the great Judge Tom McDaniel had taught her. Good practice for the courtroom and all that. Rae was used to it by now, and even kind of liked it. When she addressed the folks at the nursing home by their proper titles, it gave them some of their dignity back.

  He reached the driver’s door and looked back at her. “When someone tells you what they prefer to be called, it’s impolite to refuse them, Miss Walters.” He held up the keys and shook them. “Get in. I’ll drive.”

  Well, that was unnecessary. She sucked in her lips. He had some nerve bossing her around. All she wanted to do was duck into the barn and contemplate life with her cat. But her curiosity won out.

  “Better call me Rae, then.” She opened the passenger side door. “And Mr. Whiskers gets to come this time.”

  Gerrit looked at her squirming sweatshirt. “Is he trained?”

  She got into the truck with a smirk. “He won’t poop in here, if that’s what you mean.”

  She adjusted the seat belt so the lap strap tucked underneath Mr. Whiskers and the shoulder strap fit above him. He protested mildly when Gerrit turned the key and the engine fired up, but then he settled in.

  As they pulled onto the road, she peered through the window at the neighbor’s mailbox. It was standing upright as if nothing had ever happened. She should say something about it, maybe thank Gerrit for fixing it for her, but she hated to bring it up. Especially when his mood seemed to be improving.

  Maybe she should talk about something else instead.

  “How was your day?”

  He concentrated on the road as if he hadn’t heard her. He could at least turn on the radio. She fidgeted in her seat.

  “Is your wife working today?”

  Nothing. It was worse than talking to Morgan at Community Hope. In fact, the two of them had a lot in common. Surliness, for one thing. Well, she wasn’t giving up that easily.

  “What’s her name?”

  He made a right-hand turn and glanced over at her. “Hannie.”

  She tilted her head. “That’s a pretty name. Unusual.”

  “It’s Dutch.”

  “Do you have any kids?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, his face clouded over. Did his strained relationship with his wife have something to do with their kids? She couldn’t help him if she didn’t have all the facts. Dad said it was in her blood to interrogate people.

  “What are their names?”

  He frowned. She was prying, but he’s the one who wanted her to come along. If he had wanted to make the drive in utter silence, if he’d wanted to avoid all her questions, he should’ve gone to find a rooster all by himself.

  “How old are they?” She was doing it on purpose now. “Do they live nearby?”

  They were close to Cole’s Corner. He would need her to tell him the address soon or the whole trip would be a waste. He gave her a questioning look, and she raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t giving him anything until he answered at least one question.

  “Evi is thirty and Noah is twenty-seven, okay?” He huffed. “Happy?”

  She stuck her nose up in a self-satisfied way. “Turn left on Bower. We’re looking for number eighteen. Green house.”

  He made the turn. Her thoughts drifted to the piece of paper he had stuck in his pocket earlier. What could it have been?

  At house number eighteen, they pulled up to find a buxom woman waiting by the garage. Rae had texted the number from the ad and let them know they were coming. The woman wore heavy-duty work gloves and held a trembling cardboard box in her arms.

  Gerrit stepped out of the truck.

  The woman hurried over and thrust the box at him before he could even close the door. “There’s Bernard. He’s all yours.”

  From her seat, Rae nodded her approval. Bernard was the perfect name for such a regal creature as the one she’d seen pictured in the ad. The cardboard box shook and an unholy cacophony came from inside, like the woman had trapped an evil spirit in it that would burst forth if you said the magic words. But of course the bird would be making a fuss after being trapped in a box. He would probably calm down once they let him out.

  Poor Bernard.

  Gerrit clung to the box, struggling to keep hold, and looked at it like it might detonate. “Uh, thanks.”

  The woman shooed him away with a gloved hand. “Hope you have lots of space.” She turned to go back to her business, calling over her shoulder, “Never approach him with bare hands. I learned that the hard way.”

  Gerrit’s jaw clenched. The box screamed, and Rae shrunk back. Gerrit stood at the open door of his pickup truck, glancing back and forth between the bed of the truck and the cab.


  “You can’t put him in the back,” she said. “What if he escapes while we’re driving?”

  He gave her a hard look. “And what if he’s in here with us and escapes while we’re driving?”

  She scrunched her lips to one side. Good point. The transportation of an ornery rooster was not something she’d ever had to worry about before. She’d feel a lot better if the woman had taped the box shut. Instead, she’d only crisscrossed the box’s flaps over each other.

  Gerrit nodded as if he’d made a decision, then set the box down in the truck bed. “I don’t want any distractions up there. Especially since you’re driving home.”

  She stared. “Uh . . .”

  “Slide on over.” He gestured with his hands. “You need more practice.”

  He walked around the front of the truck to the passenger side and opened the door. She had not moved.

  He motioned with his chin. “Scoot.”

  “Have you forgotten what happened last time?” She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Like I said, you need practice.”

  “I ran something over.”

  “I went back and checked. It was only a raccoon.” He shrugged. “I hate raccoons.”

  Her voice rose. “It could’ve been a child.”

  He stood motionless with one hand on top of the cab until she looked up. “It wasn’t.” He jerked his chin again. “Now scoot.”

  Rae slowly slid across the bench to the driver’s seat. This was not how she’d imagined the end. Careering to her death next to a man who was little more than a stranger. Taking the innocent Mr. Whiskers down with her. Not to mention Bernard. That was not how it happened in her recurring nightmare.

  If only she’d gone to see what was happening in Room F instead of letting Kylee drive her home and then trying to visit the barn. Though Mark had said he didn’t need volunteers on Fridays, she had considered dropping by the church to say hi to the students. To check in on Taylor. Now she would never have the chance. Who would tutor Taylor once she was gone?

  She sat there for a long moment, unmoving, her hands gripping the wheel.

  “You might want to take him out of there.” Gerrit indicated her sweatshirt. “You don’t want anything disrupting your focus while you’re driving.”