Hearts and Harvest

by Amber Stockton

  William paused and crouched next to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking up slightly to meet his brother’s eyes. “Hey, Jacob, why don’t you run on over and see if Father has a new job for you to do? I bet you’re tired of digging holes in the ground. Maybe they have the extra seeds for the parts we’ve already dug.”

  “Really?” Jacob’s eyes brightened, and he seemed to forget the question he’d just asked. “Do you think he’ll let me plant instead of dig?”

  “Won’t know unless you go ask and find out, now will you?” William grinned in hopes of enticing his brother even more.

  “Yes!” Jacob threw his arms around William’s neck. “Thanks, Willie.”

  And off he went, racing across the expanse of land and carefully avoiding the rows that were already done.

  Annabelle watched alongside him. A moment later she spoke. “That was sweet of you to do that for Jacob.”

  William shrugged. “He’s been clamoring to switch up his tasks for several days now.”

  She kept her gaze on Jacob and tilted her head to the right, pressing her lips into a thin line. “There is such a difference in your ages, yet you treat him like any older brother would.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Mother and Father actually lost two others between Jacob and me.” Yet another reason to be angry at God.

  Annabelle released a soft gasp. “Oh, Mr. Berringer, I’m so sorry.”

  William opened his eyes to see the stricken look on her face. A part of him wanted to respond to her compassion, but the other part didn’t want to get into anything else. The latter won.

  “It was a long time ago,” he said with a shrug. “But we are a bit protective of him.” Then there was the obvious reason. “And he didn’t need to be here listening to this conversation.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to continue our discussion?”

  He paused and looked at the sky. The sun blazed overhead, unimpeded by clouds or shade of any kind. After the recent rains and chill in the air, the warmth brought a welcome change. He then turned his attention to the seemingly endless stretch of land they had been given to farm. Finally, he shifted his attention to Annabelle.

  “Miss Lawson, I will be honest with you. This topic of God’s involvement is one I’m sure you would love to discuss at great lengths. But as I told Jacob and as I mentioned a moment ago, there is a lot of work to be done. I just can’t stand around all day talking.”

  “Then show me what needs to be done, and I’ll help.”

  William started to open his mouth then snapped it shut. Had she really just offered to work alongside him? And if so, why? It couldn’t only be so she could share her point of view and hope to change his mind. Because if that was the case, she was wasting her time. And what about her mother and father? Surely they wouldn’t approve of her working alone with him out here without supervision.

  “I, uh. . .I don’t know that there’s anything you can do.” Her simplistic solution to the closed door he’d attempted to present on the discussion unsettled him. And he didn’t want to invite unnecessary trouble from her parents should they learn of her whereabouts.

  Annabelle looked around. “There are a lot of women working in these fields. I’m not exactly as delicate as I might appear. Besides, with me working as well, you will have no excuse left to avoid conversation.”

  Or so she thought. He could remain silent and refuse to answer her questions if he so chose. Something told him, though, that she wouldn’t be deterred so easily. It seemed he had no choice but to go along with her.

  “All right.” He pointed to an untilled section of land to their left. “I began working there this morning. Let me fetch some additional tools and seed, and we can work those rows.”

  “Very well.” She didn’t waste a moment before heading in that direction where he’d pointed.

  William marched off to do as he said. If she was that determined to work alongside him, so be it. Perhaps he could get so involved in the tilling that he wouldn’t be required to say much in response to what he was sure would only amount to preaching.

  Five minutes later, he met her at their work plot and dumped a heavy bag of seed at her feet. After that came a bucket of water. The liquid sloshed over the sides when he dropped it on the ground. His hoe and digging stick remained nestled in the hollow of his shoulder.

  “You’ll be using the seeds to fill the holes I dig. Then you’ll need to pour a good measure of water over them to moisten the soil.”

  “I believe I can handle that.”

  William thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but he didn’t bother to look at her to find out if his suspicions were correct.

  “All right, then. Let’s get started.”

  He dug the hoe into the earth and broke apart the clumps of dirt. With the digging stick, he pressed down the dirt and made a suitable hole, then stood back and waited for Annabelle to fill it. She did as he’d instructed, refilling the hole and pouring water over it.

  “Good. Let’s continue.”

  It was the closest he could come to a compliment. Best not to encourage her too much. She learned fast, though—with just the right number of seeds and an appropriate amount of water. She worked as if she had done this before. But that was ridiculous. From what he could tell, they’d both grown up in similar households. She was a lady. Servants most likely performed the menial tasks of planting and gardening. Still, she didn’t seem to mind the labor.

  He moved on to the next hole and then the next. After digging and filling at least a dozen, he tilted his head and regarded her from the corner of his eye. She reached into the seed sack and withdrew two handfuls. Curious, he paused as she deposited the seeds into a front pocket of her apron, which still bore evidence of the meal she’d helped serve for lunch.

  William cleared his throat. “Impressive,” was all he could manage. He still hadn’t come to terms with her offer to help. And now she seemed to be making the best of things.

  “If we are to be as productive as possible, this will help our pace. The sack can be left at the end of each row, and I can replenish as needed.” She smiled, obviously pleased with her ingenious solution.

  “Good thinking,” he said cautiously, determined not to tip the tone of this forced situation one way or the other. He moved ahead to dig the next hole. “The work is not done with digging and planting, though. The seeds must be tended and nurtured each day. Then the weeds will need to be cleared away to allow room for the seeds to take root and sprout. After that, there’s the elimination of any pests that might take up residence on the leaves or the plants.” He looked down at the ground and spoke low. “There will be much to do long after you’re gone.”

  Annabelle dug into her pocket for more seeds, but not before William caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes at his intentional barb. She waited in pronounced silence until he had the next hole ready, then dumped in the seeds, filled the hole, and poured the water.

  It was just as well. The less communication they had, the easier it would be to get lost in his work. But the longer the silence lasted, the more his conscience was pricked by guilt. If she said something, he might be tempted to deliver an insult in order to protect himself. That went against his grain. He might not be sure where he stood as far as God was concerned, but he was still a gentleman. And as such, he had a duty to be courteous and respectful.

  If only she didn’t make it so difficult.

  As she filled the most recent hole, she paused and stared at the wet area left behind by the water. “These seeds are a lot like us,” she muttered almost to herself.

  He drew his eyebrows together as she turned her head to look up at him.

  “These seeds. They are a lot like people.” She reached into her apron and pulled out a few, holding them in her palm. “In their present state, they are like a newborn baby. After we are born, we need a great deal of care and attention in order to grow in the best environment possible. Our roots are
formed from the instruction of our mother and father and other people in our lives.”

  He moved down the row, working as she spoke. A stolen glance at his companion’s face revealed bright eyes and an eagerness in her expression. She obviously assumed that he was interested in what she had to say. He may be, but he didn’t intend to tell her that.

  “When we are ready,” she continued, “we break free from our family—like what you will do when the vegetables are ready for picking—and we become mature plants. We are independent, but we came from the same roots. If conditions are right, the seeds at the core of the vegetable are strong enough to be replanted in the ground in the hopes that they will grow to produce healthy plants. Just like their sources before them. And so the cycle continues, does it not?”

  William rammed the hoe into the ground and separated the dirt. “I never thought of farming and family in that way.”

  “Our faith in God is almost the same.”

  He gripped the long end of the hoe, making a fist around the rough wood. God again, he groaned inwardly. Why did she insist upon making such an analogy to his faith? It would have been fine to leave it as a parallel to their physical growth. He didn’t want to hear anything about God or how the roots his parents had instilled in him still ran deep.

  Besides, his life couldn’t possibly be compared to these seeds or the way they would be tended as they grew. God had uprooted him and his family from the comfort of their home and left them to wither and die without sustenance. It was by pure chance they had happened upon this opportunity to farm in order to have a way of life again.

  “We begin as little seeds when we first believe. By reading the Bible and going to church with others who believe, we receive the nourishment and the care to grow healthy and strong.”

  William tried to ignore Annabelle’s words, but no other noise existed to drown them out. It was impossible not to hear them.

  “We live each day to the fullest and plant seeds in others to help them grow as we grow. If our faith is strong, when the rain and winds and storms come, we will survive.”

  The winds and storms hadn’t stopped since the runs on the banks had ripped the rug out from under his family and forced them to lose their home. Sure, they were surviving, but not by God’s help. He’d had to compromise his own goals, dreams, and desires. He’d been forced to use his own innovation to make the best of the situation. He was working hard, just as his parents and his brother were, all so they could start rebuilding what they had lost. No matter what Annabelle said or how much time she took to extend her charity to others, she wouldn’t change the facts.

  Although, if he had to admit it, he was enjoying her company far more than he thought he would—more than he should, all things considered. As they moved up and down the rows, his mind focused on Annabelle. She didn’t have to be here working with him. And she didn’t have to get mud and sweat and dirt all over her pretty clothes. Yet she was here doing exactly that. And for what? For him? That possibility seemed too far-fetched to even consider. What if it was true, though? He couldn’t do anything about it. He had nothing to offer a fine lady like her. Not now, anyway.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Berringer?”

  Her voice interrupted his musings.

  “Your face is rather flushed. I do hope you aren’t suffering from heatstroke or even from the food we prepared for your lunch.”

  William shook himself free from his trailing thoughts. He risked a look in her direction. Loose tendrils of her chestnut hair framed her face, and the slightest bit of perspiration formed on her brow. Despite the soiled state of her clothing, she presented a rather appealing picture. For a fleeting moment, he entertained thoughts of the many possibilities. But the worried expression gracing her delicate features reminded him of the folly of those thoughts and brought him back to the present.

  “No, no,” he rushed to assure her. “There was nothing wrong with the food, and I am feeling just fine. I promise.”

  William took note of the progress they’d made. If they continued at this pace, they’d complete at least five rows before the hour was done. Had it not been for her creative use of the pocket in her apron, they no doubt would have been slowed considerably. If only she didn’t feel the need to ramble on and on about faith and God and strong roots.

  “In that case,” she replied, “I had another thought regarding your comments earlier.”

  And there she was, back on the religious talk again. Rather than respond, he remained quiet and focused on the planting. Let her continue to talk to herself. Perhaps that audience will be preferable to my participation in the conversation.

  She continued as if she didn’t even notice his silence. “You seem to believe that God has forgotten all about you. Or that He’s too busy to notice that your family is in need and suffering like so many others.”

  Annabelle followed behind him, focused on her part of the work and what she felt the need to say to him.

  “But God doesn’t forget the tiniest sparrow, and He hasn’t forgotten you or your family, Mr. Berringer. Why else would you have this land to farm and the help of others in this city to assist you in rebuilding? Why else would your entire family have been left healthy and able to work to recover from the loss?”

  His mind drifted back nearly twenty years to his childhood and a time when he sat on his mother’s lap listening to her read from the Bible. He remembered the story of the sparrow, as well as the lilies in the field. His mother had told him that God valued him far above those items and that he should never worry about tomorrow. God had it all under control.

  “You realize, Mr. Berringer, that you could have been more than crippled in your finances. Illness, injury, or any number of other setbacks could have incapacitated you or one of your family members. And then where would you be?”

  William wanted so desperately to say something to her. But words failed him. What would he say, though? He couldn’t exactly throw off everything when deep down in his heart he knew she spoke the truth. Still, there was a rather large gap between what he’d learned as a child and what he lived today as an adult.

  Annabelle didn’t press him in any way. And soon, assuming either his disinterest or his inner struggle, she lapsed into silence as well. The silence chilled him like the cold April rains that had recently fallen. At least they agreed on something. Not talking would prevent any disagreements or arguments. And since their conversations to this point seemed to end in some form of conflict, maybe silence was the answer.

  “Annabelle!”

  They both looked up at the calling of her name. It took William a moment to locate the source. A young girl, who looked to be four or five years older than his brother, stood about seventy-five feet away, shielding her eyes from the overhead sun and looking in their direction.

  “That’s my younger sister, Victoria,” Annabelle explained. “She’s no doubt coming to say it’s time to go home.”

  William looked back over their progress. They had reached the end of the sixth row. More than he had expected they’d do in the time they’d been working.

  Annabelle made a point to carry the nearly empty water pail to the start of the next row. William followed her as she walked toward where they’d left the seeds. She reached into her apron and emptied the seeds back into the sack. Then she dusted off her hands and stood staring at the ground.

  He couldn’t tell if she was trying to think of something to say or waiting for him to say something. Again, his conscience pricked. He couldn’t let her leave without at least thanking her for her help.

  “Uh, Miss Lawson? I, uh. . .” Why wouldn’t his brain work? This should be a simple task. He cleared his throat and waited for her to look at him. “Thank you. For your help and for what you shared today about faith and God.”

  Oh no. Where had that come from? He had only intended to mention the work. Yet for all he tried, he couldn’t stop the tumbling words from his mouth. “I know I didn’t say much, but I did hear every word
you said. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  Hope filled her eyes, making the dark blue hue lighten a few shades. “Mr. Berringer, if I only succeeded in making you rethink where you stand with God, then that’s enough for me. I don’t wish to preach, but I believe in my heart that God will never leave or forsake us. I would love for you to see that, too.”

  Her innocence struck a chord with him, and her open expression compelled him in ways he didn’t understand.

  “I can’t promise anything except that I will continue to think on it.”

  She nodded. “And that’s more than enough.” With a glance over her shoulder and a raised arm, she signaled her sister then returned her gaze to him. “Thank you for allowing me to work beside you today, Mr. Berringer. And I hope we see each other again.” She grasped her skirt in her hand and smiled. “Good day.”

  “Good day, Miss Lawson,” he said as she walked away toward her sister.

  At least that parting hadn’t been as cruel as the one he’d delivered right after lunch. This one left them with a chance to at least remain cordial. Although, after all that she’d said to him and the time she’d spent working at his side, they were now beyond mere polite exteriors. Where they stood, he couldn’t say. But he admired her tenacity and hoped their paths would cross again soon.

  SIX

  Annabelle accepted the assistance of the footman as she descended from the carriage onto the sidewalk. Victoria, Matthew, and her parents followed. The five of them approached the impressive home of Mayor Pingree on Woodward. It was quite a few blocks from their home on Marietta, but the ride had passed quickly.

  Now, standing in front of the house for the first time, Annabelle studied the Italianate-style architecture with French influence. She’d heard about the mayor’s taste for things French and read a great deal about the French influence in some of the major cities throughout America. However, she had no idea he’d go to lengths such as this to bring a taste of France to Detroit. Even the mansard roof seemed out of place among the other structures.