The Sowing Season

by Katie Powner

  Five feet to the classroom. “He’s not obsessed.”

  “Okay, well, he likes you. And I’m pretty sure you like him.”

  She reached the door and stopped. Tried to refute it. Felt her lips turning up and fought to keep them from giving her away.

  Kylee wagged her eyebrows. “That’s what I thought. See you later.”

  Rae ducked her head and opened the door just as the bell rang. “Later.”

  She hurried to her seat. Kylee was always making outlandish claims and pushing people’s buttons for fun. It was like a sport to her. She shouldn’t pay attention to anything Kylee said. In fact, it was easy to discount her friend’s words after years of listening to her blow smoke.

  But it was much harder to ignore the huge smile on her face and the butterflies in her stomach.

  RAE KNEW THE one thing she absolutely must not do under any circumstances was look around the cafeteria to try to spot David. Not with Kylee sitting next to her, the girl who never missed anything. And yet she couldn’t help but scan the room out of the corner of her eye when Kylee bent her head to check her phone.

  No David. But he hadn’t made any promises. He’d said maybe. And Kylee would only cause problems if he showed up, anyway.

  Kylee wrapped an entire Fruit by the Foot around her finger and sucked on it. “I’m tired. Why are you never tired?”

  She shrugged. “I’m tired.”

  Kylee rolled her eyes and rested her head on the table with a groan. “Wake me when it’s time for class.”

  She closed her eyes, her fruity finger still in her mouth. Rae didn’t know anyone who slept as much as Kylee, but she wasn’t dumb enough to think Kylee was checked out. Oh no. Just because her eyes were closed didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of everything going on around her. She wasn’t someone who let her guard down easily.

  Rae dropped her bag of grapes and glanced around the room again when she reached down to pick it up. A boy who was most definitely not David caught her eye. Morgan. He was sitting with his back to her in the corner in his usual slumped position, hood pulled up over his head. She would’ve never noticed him, never known it was him, except for the red notebook in his hand.

  She put the grapes back in her lunch sack and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  Kylee yawned and opened one eye. “Where are you going?”

  “To say hi to someone.”

  “Is it David?”

  “No. Someone else.”

  “Okay.” Kylee tucked her arm under her head. “Well, if he comes by, I’ll be sure and let him know you’re in love with him.”

  Rae walked away shaking her head. Kylee would never do that. For all her quirks, she was a loyal friend. Rae’s only true friend, in fact. But sometimes she didn’t know when to let something go.

  No one paid Rae any attention as she approached Morgan’s table and slid onto the bench beside him. Including Morgan.

  “Hey.”

  She spoke just loud enough to be heard over the din of the cafeteria.

  Morgan kept his eyes on his notebook. “What are you doing?”

  “I saw you over here.” She faltered. His tone was less than welcoming. “I thought I’d say hi.”

  He looked up for a second, his eyes guarded, searching. Then looked back down. “Hi.”

  The implication was clear, but she resisted the urge to flee. “What’re you working on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you have a good weekend?”

  He shifted in his seat, and she heard her trying-too-hard voice through his ears. He must find her annoying. But she was just trying to be friendly.

  “You want to come sit with me and Kylee?”

  The word harrumph was the only way she could describe his response. She almost chuckled over how much he reminded her of Gerrit at that moment.

  A figure appeared behind them, and Morgan tensed.

  “Hey, guys.” David put a hand on Rae’s shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

  She looked back and forth between David and Morgan. Morgan didn’t look at David or give any sign that he intended to respond.

  She tried to smile. “I was just saying hi to Morgan.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  She glanced at Morgan, cringing inwardly. He sat unmoving, like David’s words had frozen him in time. She’d tortured the poor guy enough for one day.

  “I was heading back to Kylee, actually.” She rose from the table. “See you later, Morgan.”

  She didn’t expect an answer.

  David followed her across the cafeteria. “Quite the chatterbox, isn’t he?”

  She shrugged. “I think he’s focused on his work.”

  “I heard his dad’s in jail for stabbing some guy in an alley.”

  She frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”

  They reached the table where Kylee was sprawled out like a toddler who had crashed after a sugar high.

  It was David’s turn to shrug. “From some of the guys.”

  She nudged Kylee with her elbow as she sat down beside her. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Kylee groaned. “Do I have to?”

  “Only if you want to pass English.”

  She sat up and stretched. “Passing is overrated.”

  David leaned on the table next to her. “No it’s not.”

  “Oh. It’s you.” Kylee waved a hand as if dismissing him. “What do you know?”

  “Only that I don’t want to repeat sophomore year. And that I have a better chance at getting a scholarship if I get good grades.”

  “You sound like her.” Kylee pointed at Rae with her chin.

  David grinned. “Is that a bad thing?”

  Rae smiled back at him. “According to Kylee, I’m too boring for words.”

  “I don’t think you’re boring.”

  Rae could see Kylee making a Gag me gesture with her finger from the corner of her eye, but she ignored her. It was true she’d never been one to do anything that exciting. Aside from basketball, she spent all her time focused on The Plan, something Kylee found exceedingly dull. But as she locked eyes with David . . . well, suddenly, her life felt anything but boring.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  Gerrit scrunched up his face. “What’s that noise?”

  Hannie, at the wheel of her Toyota Corolla, shrugged. “It’s been doing that for about a month.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sat up and strained to listen. “Sounds like a belt.”

  She pulled into the parking lot without responding. He should take the car to the shop, but who knew what the mechanics might find once they started digging around? Who knew what it would cost?

  Surely he could fix it himself.

  As Hannie turned off the engine, he shifted his attention to his surroundings. Was it too soon to regret this decision?

  Hannie grabbed her purse and put a hand on the door handle. “Ready?”

  He hesitated. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go to Bill’s.”

  “Because Bill’s doesn’t sell anything but flannel shirts and work pants.”

  “But I know where everything is.”

  She opened the door. “Come on, this was your idea.”

  That wasn’t technically true. She’d been the one to first hint at his need for a new wardrobe, and there’d been nothing subtle about her hint. But he was the one who’d brought it up again this morning after spending the night filling out the volunteer application for Community Hope.

  If he was going to show up there again, he didn’t want to look like he came straight from the farm. And it wouldn’t hurt to look the part of a changed man when Evi and Noah came for Memorial Day. If they came.

  He slid out of the passenger seat with a groan, his back protesting. It was easier to ride in his truck because he didn’t have to bend over as far, but Hannie had insisted on taking her car. She said his truck smelled like moldy hay and dried-up cow manure.

  He liked that smell. But her
car, dilapidated as it was, smelled like daylilies and strawberry shampoo. So. She drove.

  He followed her into the mall, keeping his head down and trying to shrink himself as much as possible. When you’re four inches over six feet tall and built like you’ve been doing hard labor your whole life, you tend to stand out. He didn’t like standing out.

  Hannie strode purposefully ahead, oblivious to his discomfort. “Let’s try Macy’s first.”

  He grunted. By the look of the window displays, Macy’s was much too fancy for his needs.

  “The men’s section is over here.” She looked back at him as he lagged behind and waved a hand. “Come on. We don’t want to be here all night.”

  He’d seen the sign on the door. “They close at nine.”

  He wasn’t sure what the look she gave him was, something between amusement and exasperation, but he liked it.

  When they reached the men’s section, Hannie immediately began digging through racks as if she knew exactly what she was looking for. He stood behind her and waited.

  “If you see anything you like, grab it.” She flashed him a smile. “Once you have a few things, you can try them on.”

  He made a face. He hadn’t anticipated trying anything on. Couldn’t he hold it up and decide?

  She must’ve read his expression. “They’re just clothes, dear. They won’t bite.”

  He swallowed. The idea of undressing in a fitting room with people walking by and mirrors all around made his mouth dry. But she’d called him dear. “Okay.”

  Clothes of every color surrounded him, all looking sharp and crisp in their newness. He looked down. The knees of his pants were threadbare, the cuffs of his shirt frayed.

  Hannie held a dark purple polo up to his face and squinted. “Hmm. I think this color would look good on you.”

  He shrank from the shirt. “Purple’s a girl color.”

  “Hmmph.”

  Twenty minutes later, he found himself at the entrance to the fitting room area with an armload of clothes. Only one pair of pants—plain old denim jeans—had he chosen himself. The rest were Hannie’s doing.

  He eyed the pile nervously. “It would take me months to wear this many clothes.”

  She gave him a gentle push in the right direction. “Try them on and see what happens.”

  There was nothing for it. He had once milked thirteen cows in a row by hand when the power went out and the generator ran out of gas. His hands and arms had been sore for weeks. Surely he could try on a couple of shirts.

  He shuffled down the long hall to the first available stall. Was this how the cows felt stepping into the parlor?

  Well, moo.

  Inside the stall, he carefully locked the door and hung the shirts on hooks. He set the pants—and who needed more than one pair of pants?—on a stool in the corner. A full-length mirror caught every movement. He turned his back on it. He didn’t know who that sour-looking old man was, but he had other things to worry about.

  He took a deep breath.

  Taking off his pants resulted in banging his elbow hard against the wall. Removing his shirt left his thinning hair sticking straight up from static. He tugged a polo shirt—a gray one, not the purple one—from its hanger and quickly pulled it on. There. He smoothed his hands over the front. That wasn’t so bad. He buttoned the three buttons with stiff fingers.

  Why not? He turned to look.

  He started. He hadn’t seen legs that white since they’d taken the kids to see the polar bears at the zoo when they were little. Grabbing the pants from the stool, he stuck his feet in them, one after the other.

  Yank.

  Yank.

  He checked the size on the tag. Seemed about right, yet these jeans weren’t like the ones at Bill’s. Somewhere between his knees and upper thighs, the pants came to a grinding halt. Maybe Mark from Room F could handle pants this tight, but Gerrit Laninga was not about to squeeze his ham hocks into fabric this unforgiving.

  He pushed down. The pants wouldn’t give. He made some adjustments and tried again with more force.

  “Aargh!” He couldn’t keep the exclamation from coming out as blinding pain stabbed at his lower back.

  “Gerrit?” Hannie’s voice floated through the air to his stall with a note of concern. “Everything okay in there?”

  He grimaced, forcing the words out through clenched teeth as fresh pain washed over him. “I’m fine.”

  The pants would have to wait. He carefully straightened, breathing heavily, and concentrated on relaxing his back muscles. Yes, that was better. Reaching up didn’t cause him nearly the trouble reaching down did. Maybe he should focus on the shirts for now.

  And to think women did this kind of thing for fun.

  With cautious movements, he took hold of the bottom of the gray polo and lifted the shirt. The pain was minimal. He could do this. His arms rose to chest height, then shoulder height. Easy now.

  When his arms reached the point where they were level with his head, he let out another brief cry of distress. He had forgotten to undo the buttons.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Her voice came from directly outside his door this time.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Fine.”

  His voice was muffled by the shirt covering his face. The best course of action would be to pull the shirt back down and take care of the buttons, but one of his elbows was caught. When he tried to pull it free, a back spasm jolted his body.

  “Oooh,” he groaned.

  His body jerked, and he stumbled because of the awkward position his pants had put him in. Unable to see, he ran headfirst into an empty hook.

  “Yow.” His nose smarted.

  “That’s it.” Hannie knocked on the door. “Open up.”

  He panicked. “Just a minute.”

  Bumbling blindly, he shuffled toward what he thought was the corner with the stool. If he could ease himself onto it, maybe he could work his elbow out of the shirt without tipping over. But he miscalculated.

  Thud.

  The door handle jabbed him in the hip, and the latch released under his weight. Hannie seized the opportunity and pushed against the door. She gasped as he stumbled backward. He could imagine her face. He couldn’t see it, but he could imagine.

  “Gerrit, my goodness.”

  If he hadn’t been so flustered, he would’ve been mortified. “Help.”

  Calm, cool fingers prodded his chin where the shirt was wedged tight against his face. “Hold still.”

  It sounded like she was smiling.

  He held still. She worked her fingers under the fabric and got ahold of a button.

  “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

  She was definitely smiling.

  Once she got the button free, the shirt slid easily over his head with her assistance. He breathed a sigh of relief as he shook it off his arms. But his relief turned to chagrin when he saw Hannie’s face.

  “I . . . um . . .”

  She started to laugh. A whole-body, lyrical laugh that filled the tiny dressing room and rushed over him like a waterfall of delight, leaving tingles on his skin.

  He blinked. “Thanks for your help.”

  She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes dancing. He chuckled at first, then a full-on laugh worked its way up from his bare-naked belly to his mouth and burst out like a long-forgotten song. Hannie shrieked and slapped her other hand over her mouth as well, trying to contain her amusement.

  For a moment, as face muscles he hadn’t used since who-knew-when were brought back to life and Hannie’s face shone like a bride on her wedding day, he almost forgot he was only half wearing pants.

  She poked him in the ribs with a wicked grin. “Looks like you need new underwear, too.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Gerrit pulled into the Greenville Community Church parking lot at 2:51 wearing his old worn-out jeans and a brand-new polo shirt. Hannie had been unable to convince him to try on another pair of pants afte
r what happened with the first pair, but they were going to the mall again in a few days because she insisted he needed new shoes. Maybe he’d give the pants another go. He’d have to stretch out before leaving the house this time.

  He checked his watch. 2:52. Community Hope started at three.

  He looked over at Daisy. “Should we wait or go in early?”

  She undoubtedly had an opinion but didn’t offer it. He tapped the steering wheel. It had been an agonizing decision, whether to bring the dog. It was ridiculous, and probably sacrilegious, to bring a dog into a church. Plus, he didn’t want to get her hair all over his truck. He’d only barely gotten rid of all the feathers from when Bernard and Mr. Whiskers went a couple of rounds. But in the end, he’d pictured Morgan’s face and hoisted Daisy into the passenger seat.

  This should teach that kid to make a snap judgment. Gerrit wasn’t unreliable and disappointing. He could come through for people.

  As he was still trying to decide whether to wait for the clock to strike three, he spotted Rae heading for the front door of the building with some boy. They sure looked cozy, walking so close together. All smiley. Hadn’t she said she didn’t have room in her plans for a boyfriend?

  He carefully slid out of the truck, mindful of his still-tender back, and walked to the other side to open the door for Daisy. He hadn’t even thought to bring a leash because she minded so well, but now he wondered if he was breaking some kind of doggie protocol by letting her walk about freely in public.

  Too late now.

  Daisy loved every minute of it as they entered the building and made their way to Room F. She held her head high and sniffed the air as if it had recently rained prime rib.

  Gerrit made a mental note to make Hannie prime rib for dinner this weekend.

  In Room F, Mark greeted him with wide eyes. “You’re here.”

  Gerrit nodded.

  “And you brought a dog.”

  “She’s real good.” He scratched the back of his head. “She won’t cause any trouble.”

  Mark clutched his clipboard to his chest. “But . . . dogs aren’t allowed in the building.”