The Sowing Season

by Katie Powner

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Really. I should’ve told you.”

  Mom took a deep breath, composing herself. “We’ll talk more about this once we’ve both had some rest.”

  “Okay.”

  Mom drove on in silence for a minute, though the air between them crackled with words still unsaid. Rae glanced at her from the corner of her eye and waited.

  “And maybe it’s time we talked about The Plan, too.” Mom blurted out the words as if unsure how they would sound. “If you have something on your mind, I want you to feel like you can come to me with it.”

  Rae sat back. This was new. “What about Dad?”

  “What about him?”

  “He’ll say I’ve got to take my future more seriously. He’ll think—”

  “He only wants you to be happy.”

  “I won’t be happy if you get divorced.”

  Mom tapped the brakes as if she wanted to stop in the middle of the road. “No one’s getting divorced.” She put one hand to her chest. “Why would you even say that?”

  Rae swallowed. She hadn’t meant to bring up the D-word, but she needed to know. “The way you guys have been acting . . .”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Mom rubbed her forehead. “Yes, it’s been a tough year, with your father’s job and your grandmother, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “How can I not worry about it?” All the overheard conversations, the accusations, they didn’t mean nothing.

  Mom sighed. “I’m so sorry you thought . . . I don’t even want to say that word. It’s not going to happen.”

  An expectant buzz of hope droned in Rae’s ears, and she sat up a little straighter. All this time she’d been thinking the worst. “So you guys are okay?”

  “There are some things your father and I need to talk about.” Mom put her blinker on to turn in to Evergreen Terrace. “Some changes we need to make. But yes, we’re okay. And the first thing we will discuss when you are up to it is The Plan. All right?”

  Rae rested her head against the seat back. Wow. This was uncharted territory. The Plan had never been up for debate or open to discussion before. Then again she’d never had these doubts before, either. But if her choosing to make alterations to The Plan wasn’t going to result in a divorce, then who knew what she might decide to do?

  It was funny, in a sick sort of way. It had taken her almost being crushed to death in a car accident to get to the point where she could have this conversation with her mom. Relief coursed through her body. She was almost glad she’d been in the accident.

  Maybe she should’ve asked God for help sooner.

  She smiled to herself. “Okay.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FOUR

  Gerrit grumbled as he shifted his weight forward. He couldn’t sit in this beat-up old recliner for one more minute. He’d promised Hannie when she left for work that he would be good—and he had spent all morning watching Kellan’s Kitchen—but he was antsy to get outside. He felt much better today. Walking around and visiting Rae in the hospital last night had helped in loosening up his muscles.

  Now he had some unfinished business to take care of.

  As he eased himself onto his feet, Daisy raised her eyebrows at him. Don’t say I didn’t warn you flickered in her eyes.

  In the kitchen, he paused next to a pair of sunglasses on the counter. Evi’s. He hadn’t spoken to her since Monday. Didn’t know what he’d say if he did. If George would’ve just minded his own business . . .

  Harrumph. He winced as he pulled on his boots. He was going to settle this thing with George once and for all.

  Daisy pouted when he told her to stay in the house, but he shut the door in her face before she could change his mind. He didn’t need her running around underfoot, causing a distraction. Outside, it was clear and still, and he could hear the familiar racket of George working in his shop. He was probably building the stupid end table Gerrit had accidentally ordered. Perfect.

  It was no trouble getting to George’s shop, what with a gaping Gerrit-sized hole in the fence between their two properties. He slipped through and approached the building, practicing in his mind what he would say.

  You’ve got some nerve messing with my grill after all you’ve done.

  You ruined everything.

  That money should’ve been mine.

  I should be the one to call the cops on you.

  Don’t ever come near my house again.

  It was a warm day. The shop door was wide open. His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached. George was wearing bulky yellow earmuffs to protect his ears, so he didn’t hear Gerrit coming or turn around. Gerrit stood in the doorway, neck muscles tensing. Fists clenching. Bracing himself.

  This was it. A moment thirty years in the making.

  George worked with his back to Gerrit, his shoulders stooped. Wood shavings covered the floor. Gerrit stepped into the shop, anger and humiliation buzzing like a miter saw in his head, driving him forward.

  Then he hesitated. An end table he knew Hannie would love sat in the corner of the shop, nearly complete. Meant for him. It was beautiful. And what was George building now? He could see only part of it as George moved around, but it didn’t look like the kind of furniture that usually came out of his shop. Some kind of box? It was small, two feet long at the most.

  Something about George’s slow, deliberate movements made Gerrit uneasy. He’d never seen George look so old. So weary. He tapped the nails in unwillingly yet with gentle care. It was almost as if . . .

  That was when Gerrit noticed the silence between hammer strikes.

  No radio.

  George reached for the nail punch on the workbench beside him, revealing the project to which he was so reluctantly dedicated. The buzzing in Gerrit’s head faded away. His fists unclenched. His throat tightened. A box about eighteen inches tall sat on the table, the wood sanded smooth. Two small silver handles lay beside it, waiting to be attached to the sides.

  Gerrit flinched as George threw the nail punch to the ground and covered his face with his hands. He kicked at a can of wood stain beneath the table.

  A low, guttural groan seeped through his fingers, thick and cold, like fog under a bridge. “Why? Oh, Lord, why?”

  The despair in George’s voice turned Gerrit’s blood to hay hooks, ripping him apart from the inside.

  “That other car rammed us into the red Jetta,” Rae had said. “The woman was pregnant. The baby died.”

  He took a step back. Mallory drove a red Jetta.

  Realization poured over him. No. No, God, please.

  Another step back.

  “I’m going to be a grandpa in June.”

  He forced himself to look away.

  Staggered out of the shop.

  Gulped for air.

  “Isn’t it exciting about Mallory’s baby?”

  He trudged back to the fence, the sun shining brightly on his head as if nothing had changed. Yet the pain in his chest told him everything had. George’s desolate cry reverberated in his heart as he stared at the hole his ladder, his recklessness, had created.

  The fence he’d broken.

  The mess he’d made.

  His indignation disappeared, leaving him empty. He nudged a splintered board with his boot. One hour, a couple of pressure-treated posts, and three two-by-fours and he could have the fence looking good as new.

  He took a deep breath. This? This was something he could fix.

  A bush rustled, and Bernard the Terrible appeared, regal with the light shining on his black-and-green feathers.

  Gerrit’s voice sounded small to him. “Where have you been?”

  The rooster trained a beady eye on Gerrit and bobbed his head. The same low, guttural sound George had made built up from the creature’s throat and let loose, a feral keening all of nature could understand.

  “I know.” Gerrit rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the fence. “I know.”

  He stepped over the broken pieces, determ
ined. He needed to grab his dog and his keys. The hardware store closed at six. He’d better get a move on.

  Maybe he could do one thing right.

  And maybe he’d call Evi tonight.

  As he passed his truck on his way to the house, something clicked in his heart, like a key turning to release a lock. He thought about Luke and Luisa and Morgan and Rae and his family. He thought about George’s granddaughter, lost, and how much a lifelong grudge had cost compared to the money he’d thought he deserved. He thought about the words he’d spoken at the hospital.

  “I’ve wasted a lot of years on the wrong path.”

  He thought about Jakob.

  And he almost didn’t notice the shiny new tank of propane sitting in the back of his truck.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-FIVE

  Rae winced as she paced in front of the rust-colored house, waiting for Gerrit to meet her. She still couldn’t believe her mom had agreed to drive her here. Even more surprising was that she’d agreed to wait in the car while Rae and Gerrit attempted this important mission.

  But a lot of surprising things had been happening lately. When Mom told her dad Rae might lose her number one spot at school because of missing her finals, he hadn’t freaked out. “As long as you’re okay,” he’d said, “and in the top ten.”

  Her response? “Top five.”

  Just because she was rethinking her priorities didn’t mean she wanted to become a slacker.

  She continued to pace, each step echoing through her body and causing a sharp pain where her forehead had smashed into the window of David’s car. A large square bandage covered the stitches, but gunk had been oozing from the wound all day. Mom had told her to “take it easy” about a dozen times on the way over.

  A truck door slammed and Gerrit approached, hunched over as if each step caused him pain, as well.

  She gave him a small wave. “You made it.”

  “I’m having second thoughts.”

  “Too late. Come on.”

  They started toward the house, and she glanced sidelong at him. “By the way, I’ve got Morgan’s new address.”

  He stood up straighter. “He’s okay?”

  “He’s living with a friend of his mom.”

  Gerrit nodded. “That’s good. Did you say anything to him about . . . ?”

  “No.” She bumped his elbow with her shoulder as they walked. “You’re going to do that yourself.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

  She climbed the front steps. “He knows you didn’t mean what you said.”

  A glint of humor sparked in Gerrit’s eyes as he followed her. “Is that so?”

  She knocked on the door. “Don’t forget, this was your idea.”

  Gerrit grunted and shifted awkwardly beside her. “Does she know we’re coming?”

  “Yes.”

  Though Rae still hadn’t spoken to her, Kylee had texted when she got home from the hospital to make sure she was okay. Rae had taken that as a good sign. And when she’d asked about the puppies at Gerrit’s request, Kylee had agreed to let them come over.

  The door opened.

  “Hey.” Kylee’s hair was green now. She leaned against the doorframe and eyed Rae’s forehead. “You look terrible.”

  Gerrit snorted.

  Kylee raised one eyebrow at him. “You don’t look much better.”

  Rae smiled. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “This way to the little monsters.” Kylee stepped aside and swept her arm out. “They just ate so they’re hyper.”

  Rae followed Kylee to the laundry room at the back of the house, Gerrit close behind. He bumbled along like an elephant on a tightrope, and she shook her head. He was probably twice the size Papa Tom had been, and twice the trouble, but she was starting to love him almost the same. She couldn’t help it.

  With a flourish, Kylee swung open the laundry room door, revealing five black-and-white puppies yipping at, stumbling over, and head-butting each other in a roiling, furry mass of ears and limbs and tails.

  Gerrit’s eyes grew wide, and he took a step back. “They’re so small. And noisy.”

  “They’re eight weeks.” Kylee shrugged. “Ready to go to their new homes. I’ll let you get acquainted.”

  She waved Gerrit into the room and closed the door after him, locking him away with the puppies so none of them could escape. The two girls stood alone in the hallway. Kylee turned to face Rae and waited.

  Rae’s heart suddenly beat a little faster. So many things to say. So many regrets.

  “Green, huh?”

  Kylee touched her hair. “It turned out way darker than I expected.”

  “I like it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Look, Kylee, I—”

  “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.” Kylee threw up her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Rae waved her friend’s words away. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I know you would never go behind my back and try to steal David. I was stupid.”

  Kylee rolled her tongue ring around in her mouth. “I was only trying to help.”

  Rae hung her head. “I know.”

  “You were different with him. Happier. Like all that stuff with your parents and”—air quotes again—“The Plan wasn’t so important anymore.”

  Rae rubbed her temples, a headache forming. She needed to get home soon and rest, but not before she said what she came here to say.

  “I’m starting to realize The Plan isn’t all I thought it was.” She met Kylee’s gaze. “Instead of making my life easier, it made it way more complicated. And you’re my best friend, Ky. I’ve been miserable without you. Please, will you forgive me?”

  Kylee scrutinized her for a long moment, then nodded. “So.” She grinned wickedly. “Have you kissed him yet?”

  Rae huffed in exaggerated exasperation. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “You have, haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  “But you want to.”

  Rae made a face. She’d had several long talks with David since the accident, and each one had put more butterflies in her stomach than the last. They’d agreed to take their relationship slow—very slow—but . . . “Maybe.”

  “I knew it,” Kylee shouted in triumph. “I’ll turn you into a normal teenager yet, Rae. Just wait and see.”

  Rae smiled. It was what she had prayed for last night. That Kylee would be willing to accept her apology and that they could pick up where they’d left off. Maybe it had worked. Maybe this was what that whole “harvest” thing meant. That you get out what you put in. If you plant anger and suspicion, you harvest misery. Yep. She’d experienced that firsthand. And if you plant reconciliation, forgiveness, hope—there was no telling what good things might come out of it.

  Rae glanced around the house. “Your parents out of town again?”

  “Yeah. My stepdad doesn’t really like me tagging along on their little adventures, so . . .”

  “So dinner at my house tonight?”

  Kylee hesitated.

  Rae folded her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes. “Please?”

  “You’re such a dork.” Kylee laughed. “Okay, fine.”

  A yelp came from the laundry room, and Rae and Kylee exchanged a look. It was impossible to tell whether the sound had come from a puppy or Gerrit.

  “Do you think they’re okay in there?” Rae asked.

  Kylee shrugged. “He’s really getting a puppy for that Morgan kid?”

  Rae nodded. “You would like him. Maybe we could all hang out sometime. Me and you, David and Morgan.”

  Kylee gave her a long look before cracking a half smile. “Maybe.”

  Another yelp made Rae jump, and she jerked her chin at the laundry room. “We better go check on them.”

  Kylee opened the door, and Rae giggled. When was the last time she’d actually giggled? Gerrit was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched awkwardly in front of him, five p
uppies crawling over him like he was a jungle gym.

  His hair stuck out in all directions, and panic flashed in his eyes. “Help.”

  She and Kylee gently nudged the puppies off him and helped him to his feet. He appeared thoroughly terrorized.

  “What do you think?” Kylee asked.

  He brushed himself off, muttering something about sharp teeth.

  Rae picked up the puppy with the chubbiest belly and nuzzled its face. Who could resist that puppy smell? “I think they’re cute.”

  Gerrit protested. “They’re nothing but bullies.”

  Kylee smirked and moved toward the door. “Well, if you don’t want one . . .”

  “Now hold on.” He pointed at the runt of the litter. “I kind of like that guy.”

  The puppy was more black than white and at least a third smaller than the rest, but he had shoved one of his siblings’ heads into the ground with his front paws and pinned it down. Rae set the chubby one down and picked up the runt.

  “This guy? He seems a little wild.” He squirmed in her hands and attempted a growl. She caught Gerrit’s eye and smiled. “Morgan will love him.”

  GERRIT BANGED ON the steering wheel and shouted, “You couldn’t wait five seconds? You had to pull out right in front of me?”

  The newfangled silver Prius ahead of him drove on unaffected. Gerrit grumbled. This was a bad idea. What if Morgan wasn’t home?

  Then again, what if he was?

  “What street do I turn on again?” he asked himself and glanced around for the scrap of paper on which Rae had written the directions. Then he narrowed his eyes at the puppy sprawled on the seat beside him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The puppy looked at the scrap of paper as if it might make a good lunch. Gerrit snatched it away. The little runt growled, if you could call it a growl, and gnawed on the seat belt instead.

  “Stop that.”

  The puppy did not stop.

  “I’ll make you ride in the back.”

  The puppy redoubled its efforts.

  Gerrit reached over and tousled the black-and-white monster’s ears. “You rascal. I can’t believe I paid two hundred bucks for you.”