Seeds of Summer

by Deborah Vogts

  How had she forgotten?

  Drawn to a stained glass picture of Jesus holding a lamb, a sense of peace washed over Natalie and reminded her of that love. Tears sprang to her eyes, and as the opening hymn played, she heard her mama’s voice, and the words came to Natalie as though she’d always held them on her tongue. “What a friend we have in Jesus.” For the next forty minutes, Natalie clung to that precious childhood memory.

  “You came.” Jared clasped Natalie’s fingers as she and Dillon were ushered out of the sanctuary.

  She nodded, conscious of his hand on hers. “And I’m glad I did. It was a memorable service.”

  “Will you stay for lunch?” Jared moved on to welcome her brother. “It’s the last Sunday of the month—Potluck Sunday.”

  She glanced at Dillon and shrugged. “I didn’t bring anything to share.”

  “Believe me, there will be plenty of food.” He winked at Dillon, undeterred.

  Natalie gazed at the people congregating in the fellowship area. Their friendly chatter drifted into the sanctuary, as did the savory aroma of beef and noodles—the combination smothering. Her fear of not fitting in crept back with a vengeance, but more than that, she had an overwhelming desire to go home and sort through the memories that had erupted during the service. Her mind spun with uncertainty. “Maybe next time.”

  Disappointment creased Jared’s brow as he walked them to the door. “I overheard a few ranchers who planned to cut their hay this week. If you’d like, I could come out and start on yours tomorrow.”

  Her eyes drifted from his collar and lingered on his lips, her confusion growing by the minute. Here she was, attracted to the man, yet not sure she could fit into his world, though she found herself wanting to—very much. “That sounds good,” she said, falling back on what she knew best. Work. “I’ll have the tractor and mower fueled and ready.”

  FORTY

  NATALIE CLIMBED FROM THE SADDLE, HAVING SPENT MOST OF THE afternoon riding fence in the pasture. Seeking a break from the penetrating sun, she led Jackson to the shade of a cottonwood tree, her mind filtering through childhood memories—or at least those that had anything to do with faith.

  The day they’d buried her mama in a lonesome prairie cemetery, Natalie had picked a bouquet of black-eyed Susan’s to put on her grave. Days later, she’d lain on her soft mattress, reading her mama’s Bible, the pages so thin she feared they might tear and be forever destroyed. Natalie had prayed for God to bring her mama back, and when she realized that would never happen, she’d gazed out her window at a crescent moon and cried in anger, feeling abandoned and alone.

  Had that been the moment she’d turned her back on God, on Jesus’ love? Her eyes landed on a cluster of black-eyed Susan’s, and she stooped to pick one of the bristly stems. Twirling it in her hand, tears trickled from her check onto the yellow petals. Oh how she longed to feel his comforting arms around her once more—to know that gentle love again. But how? How could she take back all those years of denial and give up her control?

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, knowing she couldn’t. Not with so many things and people depending on her.

  AS NATALIE RODE IN FROM THE PASTURE, SHE SPOTTED TOM’S PICKUP AT the barn. She glanced about the yard for Dillon and noted Libby’s car parked in its usual place. At least she and Chelsey had made it back from their horse shopping.

  But why was Tom here? With trepidation, she flicked Jackson’s reins and entered the shadowy recesses of the limestone barn, her eyes trained on any movement. Laughter erupted from her dad’s tack room, then her ex-hired hand stepped from the doorway, followed by Libby.

  “What are you doing here?” Natalie was in no mood for trivial conversation.

  Tom held a wooden crate in his arms and grinned. “Hey there, your stepmom was just catching me up on the news around here. Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

  Natalie scowled, her senses on alert. “What’s in the box?”

  “Don’t get excited. I only stopped by to pick up some shoeing tools I left. And I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met your lovely stepmama.”

  Her mouth pulled down even more just thinking of the trouble those two could get into if they put their heads together. Not a good combination, and yet another reason for her to keep hold of her control. “Well, you have your belongings, so I guess you can leave.”

  “I’m heading out now.” He shoved the crate in the back of his truck then paused before opening the driver’s door. “I’m curious. Did you find yourself another hand for the summer?”

  Natalie peered at Libby, wondering how much the woman had divulged. “We’re managing. What about you?”

  His shoulders relaxed. “My brother has a connection with a ranch south of here. If that deal works out, we’ll be sitting pretty.”

  He let out a harsh laugh and crept closer, his hand reaching out to stroke Jackson’s mane. “I guess that means I should thank you for firing me.”

  “No need for that.” She nudged Jackson forward, fully intending to knock the man down if he didn’t back off. “It’s been nice talking to you, Tom, but I have work to do, and I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be.”

  Tom took the hint. “You’re right, I do.” With a brisk wave of his hand, he retreated to his truck and started the diesel.

  Chelsey traipsed into the barn as his truck sped down the lane. “What was Tom doing here?”

  “He came to pick up some tools he’d left behind.” Natalie dismounted, wishing she’d checked the items in his crate.

  “Why’d you have to be so rude to him, Nat?” Libby came to her side and hooked a stirrup to the saddle horn, then began loosening the straps. “He seemed like a nice enough guy.”

  “You would think so.” The woman practically drooled on every male she saw, including Jared. “What did you tell him, anyway?”

  Libby’s bottom lip tightened. “You always think the worst of me. I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Natalie took the leather strap from her hand. “Tell me about this horse you took Chelsey to see. Was he everything you hoped for?”

  “Oh yeah, he was that and more, which is something I need to talk to you about.”

  Already jumping to conclusions, Natalie braced herself against Jackson’s ribs. “If it’s about buying the horse, I told you we can’t afford him.”

  “That’s just it, Nat. I made an offer, and the guy took it. Can you believe that?” She went to stand beside Chelsey as though for support. “It was a really low number. I never thought for a moment that he’d accept.”

  “Call and tell him you’ve changed your mind.” Natalie curled her fingers into a fist, biting back her agitation. “Tell him you have to renege on the deal.”

  Libby’s chin jutted forward. “I can’t do that. I gave him my word.” Natalie forced a grin. “Then I guess you’ll have to come up with the money yourself.”

  FORTY-ONE

  THE SUN BEAT DOWN ON THE CAB OF THE JOHN DEERE TRACTOR AS JARED circled the hayfield with the baler. All week they’d worked in the fields to get the hay put up before the predicted thunderstorms that weekend. Now Friday, the air was so humid, the sweat poured off Jared like rain. The day before, he’d mown the native grass in this field, and Chelsey had followed behind hours later with a tractor and rake. This afternoon the hay had cured enough for him to bale.

  Mindlessly following the windrow laid out for him, his thoughts drifted to Natalie and Dillon’s surprise visit to church last Sunday. He’d watched her slip into the back pew, quiet and unnoticed, and hadn’t been able to hide his pleasure. That she’d stopped fighting God long enough to attend church caused his heart to swell.

  As though beckoned, Natalie came driving up in her black truck and parked beneath a tall cottonwood tree. He set the brake and jumped from the tractor, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. The last few days, he’d spent a lot of hours behind the wheel of a tractor, and it felt good to stand and stretch.


  Natalie met him with an ice jug and a smile. “I thought you might like some cold water and some of Chelsey’s cookies.”

  Jared reached for the container and took a swig of the icy liquid, thinking he could empty the entire contents. By the time he came up for air, his stomach bulged, and he had no room for cookies.

  “Looks like you’re about finished.”

  Jared removed his cowboy hat and raked his hands through his hair, dirty and grimy from being out in the sun and dust. “I hope we can get the hay off the ground before the storm comes.”

  “That’s why I came by. One of the boys on your crew called and said he couldn’t work tonight.”

  Jared cringed at the news but should have expected as much. Considering it was the start of the Fourth of July weekend, he was fortunate to get anyone’s help.

  “I could take his place.” Natalie peered at him through long lashes.

  He shook his head, not interested in having a woman on his hay crew, no matter if she was the one funding the job or not.

  “It’s not like I haven’t hauled hay before,” she argued.

  “I don’t doubt your ability, but I’m not about to have you working alongside a bunch of hot-blooded boys.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been working beside cowboys all my life.” She lifted her hair off her long slender neck, as though placing an exclamation point on Jared’s reason for not wanting her there.

  “That may be, but if you’re on the wagon, the guys will be looking at you instead of doing their work.” He knew he spoke the truth as he’d been watching her all week. He took another drink and handed the jug back to her with a grin. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

  “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t offer.” She placed the jug in the shade and headed to her pickup. “I’ll see you at the house when you’re done,” she called out with a wave.

  Jared watched her leave and, after all these days, could still feel her lips on his, as though branded for life by the rodeo queen.

  An hour later, Jared’s shirt stuck to his back and the acrid stench of dried sweat rose to his nostrils. Finished baling, he let the tractor idle and headed for the cooler, already tasting the sweet water on his tongue.

  A gust of air thrashed his hat and the tang of freshly mown hay surrounded him as a meadowlark fluttered on a nearby bale. He gazed at the line of trees bordering the creek with the blue sky above and the hills beyond. Along the fence where the mower couldn’t reach, the bluestem grew tall, its slender stems blooming into what looked like a turkey foot and in another month would begin to turn to seed.

  All of a sudden, homesickness hit Jared so raw and heavy that his throat clenched. Memories of his boyhood flew back to him as though transported on one of the fluffy clouds above. Jared recalled working in the hayfields with his granddad and sharing drinks of water from the glass thermos his granddad insisted kept the water cold even on the hottest day.

  In that moment, Jared questioned why he ever left the life he loved so much. Why hadn’t his granddad given him a portion of his inheritance so he could enjoy a vocation like Natalie’s? Was God testing him?

  He shook the traitorous thoughts away and hung his head, grateful for the life God had given him in the ministry. A fulfilling life—and one he should appreciate—not begrudge. He picked up the thermos of water and carried it back to the tractor, the thoughts heavy on his mind.

  NATALIE WATCHED FROM THE PORCH AS THE GUYS FINISHED LOADING THE bales into the haymow. Lightning flashed in the west, and the stillness in the air filled with anticipation. She met Dillon at the barn as he leapt from the hay trailer, the others appearing one by one from the lighted mow.

  “You boys got done just in time,” she called up to them, the hay elevator clanging to a halt.

  Jared stared up at the sky where the stars still twinkled—not yet overcome by the approaching storm. “It looks like we’re in for a good one.”

  “If you’re hungry, we’ve fixed some food up at the house.” She waited for Jared and her brother to accompany her back.

  Chelsey and Libby had the picnic table ready with a tray of barbecued beef sandwiches, two bags of potato chips, and a cooler of iced tea. The boys tore into the meal, bathed by yard light. But not Jared. He hung back in the shadows, his shoulders slumped with fatigue, drained of energy.

  “You look bushed.” She handed him a plate already filled.

  “The work’s been good for me, in more ways than one.”

  Natalie fought the urge to run her fingers over his temple and ease the weariness from his face. “What do you mean?”

  He crouched on the ground beside her dad’s wrought iron rocker and took a bite of the sandwich. “It’s helped me consider the decisions I’ve made. Made me appreciate all the things God’s given me.”

  Lightning bugs twinkled in the pasture while crickets chirped from under the tree. Natalie sat in the rocker, tempted to voice her own questions. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

  In taking care of the ranch and spending time with her brother and sister, she’d started to see life in its most basic form. Natalie missed her dad and ached for his presence every day, but she was getting used to the way things were—

  even though it meant giving up certain freedoms. And her recent jolts with faith had caused her to view things from a more heightened perspective, though she wasn’t yet sure what to make of this vantage point.

  A sudden flurry blew dust and particles in the air, the storm’s approach nearly on top of them. The sky crackled above and ended with a boom.

  Jared rose from his position. “You boys should be getting home. I don’t want your folks blaming me for you getting caught in this storm.”

  The hungry teens shoved the last of their food into their mouths. Then they thanked Jared and Natalie and rushed for their truck, the first large sprinkles dotting the soil.

  “Want to come in for a while?” She began gathering the food from the table.

  His movements were awkward as though his muscles were sore. “I’ll help carry this inside, but then I’d better head to town. Sleep will come easy tonight—storm or no storm.”

  Natalie understood completely. “The sleep of a laborer is sweet,” she said, having been in that position more nights than not since her dad passed away.

  Another strike of lightning lit the sky and then came the downpour. Jared grabbed the jug of tea and hauled it to the porch. Natalie followed close on his heels, the onslaught so sudden it left them soaked and breathless. They stood under the safety of the porch and watched as the deluge created instant puddles on the ground.

  “Do you have plans for the Fourth?” She raised her voice over the torrent of rain.

  “I’ll probably go downtown and watch the fireworks from Clara’s. I’ve heard she’s planning to serve cake and cookies.” He set the jug of tea down and held the screen door for her. “What about you?”

  Natalie carried the tray of leftovers to the kitchen counter where a large watermelon waited to be sliced. “I thought we might have a wiener roast and toast marshmallows. It’s a tradition we used to do with Dad.” She seized a towel and mopped the rain from her arms and face, poking further into her memory. “He liked to tell stories around a fire and pick out constellations. If it’s a clear night, we should be able to see the fireworks from town. You’re welcome to join us if you want.” She handed him the towel, and their fingers brushed. Uncertainty coursed within her. Longing for Jared’s support, to feel his arms around her, yet afraid to ask for fear she might overstep her boundaries again, Natalie dug herself deeper into the hole. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s really gone.” Her words came out little more than a whisper.

  Jared draped the towel over a chair then covered her hand with his. “What time should I arrive?”

  “Whenever you can get here,” she managed to say, caught in a storm greater than the one outside.

  FORTY-TWO

  THE STORM RAGED ON THE REST
OF THE NIGHT, BUT BY NOON THE NEXT day, the sun finally peeked through the clouds. As the day wore on, Jared prepared his last minute sermon notes and visited two elderly members in their homes. He also fielded a phone call from his mother.

  “I know you’re busy with your new congregation, but your father and I wondered if you’d care to drive up tomorrow afternoon and have supper with us?”

  Jared flipped through his planner. He normally kept his Sunday afternoons free from obligation. “Thanks, Mom, I’d like that. How’s your garden this summer? Getting lots of produce?”

  “Oh my yes,” she said, and Jared grinned, savoring the trill of her laughter as it came through the receiver. “I’ve already canned several batches of sweet pickles, and your dad picked corn this morning.”

  “Does that mean we’ll be eating corn-on-the-cob tomorrow?”

  “Of course. And feel free to bring a friend if you want—to keep you company on the long drive. A lady friend, even, if you have one you’d like us to meet.”

  Jared cringed at the hopefulness in her voice. “You ask me that every time we talk. I assure you I’ll be arriving alone tomorrow.” The timing of this visit actually worked out well, as Jared had a few things he wanted to speak to his dad about regarding church and female relationships. But no way was he going to admit that to his mother.

  “You can’t blame me for asking. You know I only want what’s best for you,” she said, and he envisioned the smile that accompanied those words.

  “I know, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He closed the connection, looking forward to an afternoon with his folks.

  Toward evening, he took his time shaving and slapped on an extra douse of cologne, unable to deny his excitement at spending an evening in Natalie’s company. He considered her sorrow from the night before when she’d spoken of her father and knew, without a doubt, he’d feel the same if he had to face life without his parents. He sent up a prayer that he’d be able to ease her grief this evening and that his actions would be pleasing to God.