The Sowing Season

by Katie Powner

  Another good point. She unzipped the hoodie and pulled Mr. Whiskers out. He blinked in the sudden light. She held him out to Gerrit. “Will you hold him?”

  His eyes flashed, reminding her again of Morgan. “No.”

  She frowned. “Please, Gerrit?” It felt weird calling him that.

  He curled his lip. “Fine, Rae.” He grabbed the cat. “But this will be the only time this happens.”

  As if there were going to be other times they would be riding around in the truck together with a cat. She chuckled to herself. Well, who knew? Maybe there would.

  She buckled up and turned the key in the ignition, her life flashing before her eyes. How was she supposed to back out of this driveway?

  “There’s no one around.” Gerrit was matter-of-fact, his hands resting on Mr. Whiskers’s back. “You know what to do.”

  It should be easy. Press down on the brake pedal, shift the truck into reverse, and back out onto the road. But her arms and legs were paralyzed.

  “What are you waiting for?” Gerrit asked. “You want me to promise you ice cream or something?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a little kid.”

  He didn’t answer. She looked in the rearview mirror, thankful to see no other vehicles on the road.

  “So . . .” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and was pretty sure he was rubbing Mr. Whiskers’s ears. “Do you have ice cream or . . . ?”

  “Just drive.” He scowled at her, but there was laughter in his eyes.

  “Fine, but only on one condition.” An idea began to take shape in her mind. “I want to stop somewhere on the way back.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, I was joking about the ice cream.” He huffed. He sure did that a lot.

  “No, not that.” She put the truck in reverse and took a deep breath. This was either a terrible idea or a genius one. “There’s someone I think you should meet.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  Gerrit grabbed at the door handle for security as Rae took the turn too tight, ran over the curb, and drove the truck into an almost-empty parking lot. In his anxiety, it took him a second to recognize their destination as a church. It sure didn’t look like one. But the name Greenville Community Church was unmistakable, right there on the white sign.

  “What are we doing here?”

  It had been a bumpy ride from Cole’s Corner, but overall, Rae’s driving had been passable until turning in here. Not great, but they hadn’t crashed.

  She inched into a wide open parking space with three empty spaces on each side. “I told you. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  He hadn’t gone to church since Luke’s funeral. He didn’t plan to start now. “I’ll wait out here.”

  She turned off the engine and looked at him. “We had a deal.”

  He didn’t remember making any deal officially. He should’ve given in on the ice cream.

  “Someone has to stay here with the animals.”

  “We’ll move the box into the truck while we’re gone, just in case.” She reached over and slid the fluffy, decrepit cat off his lap. “Mr. Whiskers can babysit Bernard. They’ll be fine for a couple minutes.”

  She hopped out and reached down into the truck bed, trying to grab the rooster box. It shrieked like a banshee and waggled out of her reach. She stood on the back tire and tried again but couldn’t get the leverage she needed. He sighed.

  Fine.

  He got out and grabbed the box, flipping it and keeping a wary eye on the top, where an evil beady eye peered at him through a small opening between two flaps. He set the box in the cab and slammed the door.

  “I’m not interested in being preached at by some self-righteous pastor who thinks he knows about life because his dog died once.”

  Rae gave him an inscrutable look. “I don’t think the pastor’s even here on Fridays. We’re not here for church.”

  He signaled for her to lead the way and followed her into the building. He only had himself to blame for this one. It had been his idea to go after the rooster. His idea to bring her along. His idea to let her drive. She stopped at a door marked Room F and smiled back at him. Uh-oh. Girls only smiled like that when trouble was coming.

  Loud and rowdy kids were everywhere when she opened the door. His eyes widened. Was this where the exorcisms took place?

  A young man approached. “Rae, what are you doing here?”

  Rae grinned. “Just stopping to say hi. I brought a friend.”

  “I see that.” The young man held out his hand. “I’m Mark.”

  Gerrit stared at him. How did he walk around in pants that tight? And did he not own a razor?

  Rae nudged him.

  What? Oh, right. He shook Mark’s hand. “Gerrit Laninga.”

  “I’m impressed.” Mark turned back to Rae. “Two new volunteers in one week?”

  Gerrit shivered, the word volunteers casting a cold shadow. What was this guy talking about?

  Rae gave Gerrit a sidelong glance. “Well, I—”

  “Let me see if I can find another volunteer application,” Mark said, then gestured at the feral creatures climbing the walls, “while you introduce Gerrit to some of the kids.”

  As Mark walked away, Rae tugged on Gerrit’s arm. “Come on.”

  Gerrit followed dumbly. It was like one of those horror movies where you scream at the person to run because you can see the monster coming for them, but they’re frozen in fear. And then they get eaten.

  Rae waved at a tiny slip of a girl sitting against the wall, who looked like she would blow halfway to Canada on a windy day. “Hey, Taylor. Got any homework this weekend?”

  The girl hung her head, her face stricken, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “Everything okay?” Rae asked.

  The words that came out of the little girl’s mouth next shocked Gerrit out of his daze. What foul pit of hell was this? It was worse than a milking parlor on a hot summer day. He had to get himself out of here.

  Rae grabbed his arm as if sensing his intentions. “I’m going to need to talk to her. But first let’s go say hi to Morgan.”

  Gerrit was too dumbfounded to protest. He didn’t know anything about a world where people just “go say hi.” For no reason. Or where little girls cussed as if the barn were on fire. But before he could express his dismay, he was standing at a table in the back of the room occupied by a boy with black hair. He appeared . . . sullen.

  “Hey, Morgan,” Rae said.

  The boy gave her a slight nod, then looked at Gerrit with suspicion.

  Rae was either oblivious or pretended not to notice. “This is my friend Mr. Lan—uh, Gerrit. Gerrit, this is Morgan.”

  The boy met his gaze. They stared at each other, sizing each other up. The boy—what had she said? Morgan?—looked about Rae’s age. Was it true kids could smell fear like sharks could smell blood?

  “I need to talk to Taylor for a minute.” Rae patted Gerrit on the elbow. How condescending. “Be right back.”

  The boy, Morgan, watched her walk away almost as if . . . was that fear on his face, too? Gerrit cleared his throat. He was the adult here.

  “Got any homework this weekend?” He borrowed Rae’s question.

  Morgan stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged and pointed a thumb at Rae across the room. “She brought me.”

  Morgan looked down, pondering Gerrit’s answer, then relaxed his shoulders as if accepting it. “What kind of dog do you have?”

  Gerrit’s forehead wrinkled. “What?”

  “There’s dog hair on the bottom of your jeans.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t have a dog.”

  Morgan waited.

  “I mean, it’s my wife’s.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She’s a corgi.”

  The boy’s face shifted ever so slightly. “I like corgis.” His voice was quiet. “What’s her name?”

  This was rather ridiculous. Talk
ing about dogs with some strange kid in some random church that some meddling girl had dragged him to.

  “Daisy.”

  Morgan waited. Expecting something.

  Gerrit shifted on his feet. “Uh . . . do you have a dog?”

  “I used to have a golden retriever.” His expression darkened. “Her name was Fangs.”

  A golden retriever named Fangs? Could this day get any stranger?

  “Did she die?”

  Morgan flinched. “No.”

  If he wanted Gerrit to pull the details out of him, it wasn’t going to happen. It was none of Gerrit’s business what happened to this kid’s dumb dog. He shifted again and glanced around the room. Where could Rae have gone?

  Morgan stared at the bottom of Gerrit’s jeans. “Maybe you could bring Daisy next time you come.”

  Gerrit shook his head as if to clear it. No, he wouldn’t be coming here again. And he definitely wouldn’t be bringing that ratty creature. Morgan glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes. It was as if he knew Gerrit didn’t want to be there. Knew to expect disappointment. In fact, it was almost as if he was testing him.

  Before Gerrit could answer, Rae reappeared with a piece of paper in her hand, and Morgan’s face changed. A curtain dropped over it, his sullenness returned, and he looked down at the table.

  “We better get going.” Rae waved at Morgan. “See you Monday.”

  Morgan didn’t respond. As Gerrit followed Rae down the hall, he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind. Why was he testing him? Why had he shut down around Rae? What was this place?

  “What are those kids doing here?” he asked.

  Rae stopped at the door and looked at him. “On Mondays and Wednesdays they come to get help with their homework. Tutoring and stuff. They get referred to the program by teachers who don’t want them to fail. I’m one of the volunteers. On Fridays, Mark just opens the room up to give them a place to hang out after school.”

  “So that Morgan kid. He’s failing his classes?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “He’s really smart. He’s only sixteen but he says he’s graduating this year.”

  “Then what’s he doing here?”

  She shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  They stepped out into the fresh air, and he was relieved to be free of that place. He and churches didn’t mix. But what was the deal with that Morgan kid?

  An eerie wailing sound rent the air, and he frowned. It sounded like a—

  “Mr. Whiskers!” Rae shouted and took off running toward the truck. “Something’s wrong.”

  He picked up his pace to keep up with her. When he got close enough, he could see feathers flying inside the cab of his truck and hear Bernard’s banshee scream. Great. Just great.

  Rae lunged for the door.

  He held his hand out. “Wait!”

  Too late. She opened it.

  Bernard rocketed past her in a black-and-green blur aimed straight at him. He crossed his arms in front of him and braced himself, but the rooster flew right past and headed for the bushes lining the parking lot.

  He glanced back at the truck. Rae had Mr. Whiskers in her arms and was gently petting his blood-smeared face.

  “You poor thing. What did that nasty rooster do to you?”

  Gerrit’s lip curled. This wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t insisted they stop here. That rooster might be more trouble than he was worth. Maybe bringing it home wasn’t a great idea, after all. But he couldn’t leave it here. It might carry off a small child.

  He headed for the bushes.

  “Where are you going?” Rae called after him.

  “I’ve got to catch him.”

  He turned his back on her and tromped ahead. Steam would be pouring from his ears if that sort of thing happened in real life. Of all the stupid, harebrained, ridiculous . . .

  “Here, rooster, rooster.” He stepped into the bushes, moving with quiet deliberation. “Come on out.”

  He used the voice that usually worked on cows that had been injured and needed to be approached for treatment. Except the only treatment he was considering for this creature was a pot of boiling water.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to get you back in your box.”

  The bush two down from where he stood shook.

  “Come here, rooster, rooster.”

  “Maybe if you call him by his name.”

  Gerrit jumped and spun around. “What are you doing?”

  Rae tilted her head. “I’m going to help you.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Mr. Whiskers is fine. Just a couple scratches.”

  “Great.” He turned back to the shaking bush. “Wonderful. Go wait for me in the truck.”

  “Remember what that lady said about gloves?”

  He looked at his bare hands and scowled. A rooster’s talons could be vicious. That dumb cat was lucky he still had both his eyeballs.

  Rae took a step closer. “You’ll never catch him by yourself.”

  He’d never been a patient man. He used to blow up at his kids for being too loud. For being too slow. For needing more than he could give. He’d shouted at Noah that very morning when they’d talked on the phone, and Noah had said he would only come for Memorial Day weekend if Evi did.

  Gerrit had been trying to avoid thinking about that call all day. He turned on Rae, ready to lose it on her, but his anger fizzled out at the expectant look on her face.

  She was just a kid.

  Like Evi and Noah had been. All those times.

  “I have a plan,” she said, hopeful.

  His shoulders drooped. The raging swirl in his chest morphed into a tight fist of remorse. “There’s a pair of gloves tucked under the driver’s seat. Go put them on.”

  “What about you?”

  He pulled his sleeves down over his hands. “I’ll be fine.”

  Her plan was a good one. She returned with the gloves and the box and showed him a spot in the bushes where it was like a wall, too thick for the rooster to get through. They positioned the box on its side next to the wall, then closed in on the beast from the other two sides until he was forced into the open box.

  Rae grinned in triumph. “We just have to close it.”

  He cringed. Sure. Just reach on in. No problem.

  He opted for the Band-Aid approach. Rip it off quick and get it over with. He managed to get the box sealed up with only two scratches on each hand to show for it.

  “There now, Bernie.” Rae patted the box. “We’re not going to hurt you. Everything’s fine.”

  Gerrit gave her an incredulous look.

  “What?” She lifted her hands. “He was just scared.”

  “Bernie, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “Pfft.” He muttered to himself. “More like Bernard the Terrible.”

  She grinned and headed toward the passenger side of the truck.

  Gerrit shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t.” He pointed. “Driver’s seat.”

  Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she acquiesced.

  They settled into the truck with Mr. Whiskers on the bench between him and Rae. Gerrit held the box on his lap upside down with both arms set on top so there was no possibility of escape. Focused as she was on the task at hand, Rae didn’t ask any more invasive questions as she drove ten miles per hour under the speed limit.

  Well, maybe it was her turn to be interrogated, then. He could ask her a bunch of personal questions and see how she liked it.

  If he could think of any.

  What did people talk about? What could he possibly ask about her life? She lived in a house, went to school, and volunteered at that wildlife preserve for feral children. What else was there? He thought of Evi. What would he ask her if she were here?

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  He imagined his baby girl in the arms of some shaggy-haired bum and shuddered.

  Rae concentrated on the road. “No. Boys aren’t
part of my plan right now.”

  His brow puckered. “Your plan? You have a plan?”

  “Of course. First, I have to get my license, obviously. Then a job. Then I have to keep my spot on the varsity basketball team and break the record for most three-pointers in a season. After that, I have to ace the SAT, become president of the National Honor Society, and graduate valedictorian so I can get into Columbia. And then . . .”

  Her voice wavered. Certainty turned to doubt.

  “Then what?” he prodded. “What will you study?”

  “I’m going to be a lawyer.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I know exactly where I’m going to be in ten years. But I’m not completely sure after that.”

  “I don’t think you need to plan any further than that.”

  Something shifted in her expression, though he didn’t know what.

  “Tell that to my dad.”

  She said it so quietly, he wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or not. He decided to let it go.

  “See my driveway?”

  She sat up straighter. “I won’t miss it this time.”

  She slowed the truck to a crawl and gave herself an hour and a half to make the turn. Felt like it, anyway. His hands grew clammy, and his heart rate rose as he glanced up and down the road for other cars, but there was no rushing her. Had he mentioned he wasn’t a patient man?

  They pulled up to the house without incident. Rae tucked her cat back into her sweatshirt, then turned to him. “How’d I do?”

  He nodded. “You didn’t kill anything.”

  “I need to keep practicing.”

  Her hint was so obvious, even he couldn’t miss it. But he didn’t know how far he wanted to take this. He wasn’t responsible for this girl.

  “You should ask your parents for help.”

  She looked down. “Yeah.”

  “You did good.”

  “Here.” She took a piece of paper from her pocket. “It’s a volunteer application for Community Hope. Where we went earlier. You should fill it out.”

  He eyed the paper as if it were a calf with a bad case of newborn diarrhea.

  She held it closer. “We need more volunteers. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.”