The Sowing Season

by Katie Powner

  He followed the paper’s instructions and pulled up in front of a small white house long before he was ready. The number 713 was painted on the side of the mailbox.

  “This is the place.”

  Everything he’d considered saying to Morgan suddenly seemed stupid. About how important the kid was to him and how sorry he was. Maybe he should leave well enough alone. Maybe Morgan was better off without him and his big mouth.

  Gerrit’s lip curled. Rae’s description of the guy Morgan used to live with reverberated through his memory, along with Morgan’s face the day Gerrit asked him about his father.

  He scooped up the puppy. “Come on.”

  Halfway up the walk, he paused. Looked down at the little critter. What was he thinking, showing up at Morgan’s door with a puppy in his arms? Maybe Morgan didn’t want another dog. Maybe dogs weren’t even allowed in this new place. He turned around.

  “You better wait in the truck.” He set the puppy on the passenger seat and pointed his finger at it. “And you better not pee on anything.”

  He steeled himself as he approached the front door, second thoughts—and third and fourth ones, too—swirling in his head. It wasn’t too late to hop in his truck and drive away. No one would have to know.

  The door flew open.

  Morgan looked out at him, eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?”

  “Uh . . .” Gerrit cleared his throat.

  “It was Rae, wasn’t it?”

  “I . . .”

  Morgan stepped out of the house and shut the door behind him. He wore the same ratty sweatshirt as always, and his black hair hung over his face more than ever, but he seemed different. Taller.

  Gerrit shifted on his feet. “I didn’t mean for you to hear—”

  “Rae told me.” Morgan stuck his hands in his pockets. “You were trying to explain me away to your kids. I get it.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to care about me the same as them.”

  “But I do.” Gerrit swallowed hard. “That’s just it.”

  “What?”

  “When Rae told me you were missing from school, I was scared.” It was hard to get that word out, hard to admit, yet he was knee-deep in it now. “I thought something happened to you. I was afraid you’d run off to Nashville, and I’d never see you again.”

  Morgan looked away. “Well, there’s nothing keeping me here. Why shouldn’t I go?”

  Gerrit hesitated. He didn’t want to come between a boy and his dreams. And what did he have to offer, anyway? Now that Morgan had graduated, a world of possibilities lay at his feet. A world far away from here.

  But Morgan was just a kid. Shouldn’t there be someone looking out for him?

  Morgan met his eyes with a challenge. “Give me one good reason.”

  Gerrit opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Okay.”

  He turned around and strode back to his truck. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Morgan hadn’t moved from his spot in front of the door. His face was hard. Defensive.

  Gerrit reached into the truck and tucked the puppy under his arm. Morgan’s eyes fixed on the squirming creature as Gerrit walked back to stand in front of him. Gerrit knew that look. Was all too familiar with it. Longing.

  He held the puppy out. “Who will take care of this little guy if you go?”

  Morgan’s sharp eyes flashed back and forth between Gerrit and the puppy, as if testing the weight and strength of Gerrit’s words. As if he stood at the water’s edge, unsure if it was safe to jump in.

  Gerrit placed the dog in Morgan’s arms, and it immediately scrambled to reach Morgan’s face with its tongue.

  “He likes you.”

  Morgan grasped at the puppy for dear life. “He’s . . . he’s . . .”

  “He’s yours.”

  Now, that was a smile Gerrit would not soon forget.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SIX

  Hannie leaned against Gerrit and wept, a tissue pressed to her face. He squinted in the sun. It was the first day of June. A beautiful Saturday that smelled like clover and promised a perfect summer. But here they were.

  Evi and Noah stood on the other side of Hannie, staring somberly at the tiny wooden box. George and his family were across from them, along with a handful of other family members. It was a small gathering. A small hole dug in the ground. A small comfort that the birds sang a cheerful tune.

  Mallory’s shoulders shook, her sobs silent but violent as the pastor asked each person to place a yellow rose on the casket. Her husband held her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear into the freshly dug grave along with their daughter if he let go. Gerrit looked across at George and caught his eye. Éclairs. When this was all over, he was going to make George some éclairs. And then pay him full price for Hannie’s table.

  He nodded once. George nodded back.

  As he led Hannie back to their car, she clung to his arm. He relished her touch. Her nearness.

  She looked over at Evi and Noah walking alongside. “I’m so glad you guys could come.”

  They didn’t answer, but Gerrit knew Evi and Mallory had been good friends growing up. She wouldn’t have missed this for anything.

  “You’ll come for dinner, won’t you?” Hannie’s voice was hopeful.

  Evi looked at Gerrit. They’d spoken briefly on the phone, and he had apologized for his behavior last weekend. She hadn’t said much, but he was willing to give her time. Take it slow. It’d taken him years to get himself into this mess, and he wouldn’t get out of it overnight.

  “Sure.” Evi shrugged. “If it’s okay with Noah.”

  Noah nodded and opened the car door for Evi. They’d driven up together and met Gerrit and Hannie at the cemetery. Gerrit noticed Travis’s absence but didn’t dare bring it up.

  Hannie smiled. “That’s great.”

  “Why don’t you ride with the kids?” Gerrit waved an arm at Noah’s car. “I have an errand I need to run real quick.”

  “Oh. Are you sure?”

  He forced a smile. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

  He waited until they drove away before sliding into his truck. Hannie had only agreed to let him drive to the private graveside service because she was “an emotional wreck” and could “barely see straight.” She’d taken the news about George and Agatha’s granddaughter hard, as he knew she would. He cranked up the Dodge and headed into Greenville.

  When he was nine and Luke was ten, they’d discovered an ancient GMC truck on the edge of the back forty, covered over by years of blackberry bushes. It took them hours to hack away enough briars with their Buck knives to get close to it, but they didn’t mind. It was like stumbling upon hidden treasure.

  The truck was covered in rust, and the metal springs had poked out of the bench seat inside, yet to him and his brother it was better than a castle. With wonder in their eyes and scratches covering their arms, they climbed inside, and Luke took the wheel. What magic an old truck could hold for a pair of boys with wild imaginations.

  He’d never forget that day. He could still smell the musty fabric of the bench seat. Hear Luke laughing as he pushed buttons on the old radio, pretending to change the station. See the sun filtering through the blackberries, dappling their make-believe world.

  When they went home for dinner that night, after a long day of adventure, their father broke the news. “Your mother’s going to have a baby, and the doctor says she needs to take it easy. You boys are going to help out more around the house, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Luke had said. But Gerrit hadn’t said anything. Somehow he’d known everything was about to change.

  He parked his truck in front of the Bronze Boot and took out the keys. They were heavy in his hand, like metal regrets. He heaved himself out of the Dodge and stood in front of the building. The bar windows were tinted dark and covered in posters and neon signs, but he knew what he would find inside.

  A lethargic din met him when
he opened the door. Not many patrons yet, but the numbers would increase as the night went on. He walked through the haze of broken dreams and haunted memories and sat down at the bar next to a man in a blue windbreaker.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

  “Ginger ale on ice.”

  The bartender narrowed his eyes, his hopes of acquiring a new long-term customer fading. “All right.”

  As the man walked away, Gerrit leaned his elbows on the bar.

  Jakob stared at the empty glass in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

  He’d been asking himself the same question since parking the truck. “It’s a free country.”

  The bartender slid Gerrit his drink, and he nodded his thanks. He took a sip. Looking around the dingy place, he couldn’t guess what the appeal was for a middle-aged man on a Saturday afternoon. But then he never did understand his younger brother. Maybe he’d never tried.

  “You talk to Luisa lately?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I worry about her, living alone.”

  Jakob tensed. He’d lived alone since his wife left him ten years ago, but that was his own doing. She’d given him far more chances than he deserved, and his legacy was a broken marriage and thousands of dollars of gambling debt. Yet Luisa had been a widow since the age of twenty-eight through no fault of her own. No one to blame but Gerrit.

  Ice clinked as Jakob swirled his glass like he could coax out one more drop. “He wasn’t perfect, you know.”

  Gerrit snorted. “Unbelievable.”

  Jakob slammed down the glass. “Do you have any idea what it was like, watching the two of you? Luke would do anything for you, but he wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I was always on the outside.”

  Gerrit’s hands itched to slam his own glass onto the counter. Instead, he forced his shoulders to relax. He didn’t come here to start a fight. He remembered again that day in the blackberry bushes, playing with the old truck. Had he and Luke ever played with Jakob like that?

  They’d never had the time. By the time Jakob was born, he and Luke had taken over almost all the household chores in addition to their farm chores, and their responsibilities only grew from there. It was all their mother could do to take care of Jakob, never mind her other two sons, and sometimes she couldn’t even do that. Luke often had to get up in the middle of the night and give Jakob a bottle because their mother was too depressed to move and their father had to be in the parlor by three-thirty for the early-morning milking. Then Luke would pack their lunches, forge their mother’s signature on Gerrit’s homework, and make sure they didn’t miss the bus.

  But Jakob didn’t know about any of that. He was just a baby then.

  Gerrit watched condensation run down the side of his glass. “It was hard on Luke to be the oldest brother.”

  Jakob didn’t respond. Gerrit glanced at his face and recognized the bitterness there. Felt the familiar weight of self-inflicted chains. Maybe it was hard to be the youngest brother, too. Maybe Jakob wasn’t the only one at this bar in need of forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry.” The words hurt coming out. They lay there beaten and bloody on the bar like they’d been yanked from his chest. Gerrit made no move to put them back.

  Jakob’s grip on his drink tightened.

  “I’ve been thinking of going through Luke’s old boxes. They’re in my barn.” Gerrit took the last swig of ginger ale and slid off the stool. “Maybe you’d want to come by one day and help me.”

  “There’s nothing in there for me.”

  He pulled a fiver from his wallet and left it on the bar. “You never know.”

  Jakob looked up with bleary eyes, desperate and broken. “Why’d you come here?”

  The answer was suddenly clear. Luke’s chance to live out his dreams had been cut short. Jakob’s had been flushed away, one whiskey at a time. But Gerrit’s? He’d almost squandered it, believing that making something of his life had everything to do with the farm, but he understood differently now. His opportunity to leave a legacy was only just beginning.

  “I wanted you to know I’m letting go of the farm.”

  Jakob sneered. “We sold it two months ago.”

  “But I didn’t let it go until today.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Gerrit left the bar with the sound of chains falling to the ground all around him.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Rae smoothed her hand over Mr. Whiskers’s back as she sat in the barn. He purred.

  “When are you going to start rubbing my back?”

  The cat twitched his ears.

  “I don’t think it’s too much to ask after all I’ve done for you.”

  Gravel crunched outside.

  “Gerrit must be home.”

  She’d seen Hannie’s car and what must’ve been either Evi’s or Noah’s car when she got there, yet Gerrit’s truck had been missing in action. A heavy door slammed. Yep. That was him.

  It had taken some convincing to get her parents to let her walk over here. She’d had to beg, telling them the fresh air would do her good, which was true, and that she needed to talk to Gerrit, which was also true. For some reason, she had to see him. She’d been forced to promise she would come directly home in one hour and not talk to any boys.

  Her neck and back were sore, leftover evidence of the accident. Her head felt a lot better, though. The sound of boots striking gravel drew near.

  “Hey.” Gerrit opened the barn door and gave her a concerned look. “I didn’t expect to see you out and about.”

  “I walked slowly.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “It’s okay.”

  He rubbed his chin. The bruises on his neck had faded to a light green. “Are you sure you should be walking this far?”

  She smirked. “You’re the one who fell off a ladder.”

  “You got hit by a car.”

  Touché. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

  Something wistful flitted across Gerrit’s face.

  She eyed him curiously. “So your kids are here?”

  He looked over his shoulder at the house. “Yep.”

  He seemed different today. Subdued. Or maybe at peace.

  She pulled Mr. Whiskers tight to her chest and rubbed her face against his head. “The last Community Hope session is on Monday. You should come.”

  “Is that right?” He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

  She laughed. When his eyebrows shot up like that, she was reminded again of Papa Tom. He was always making faces and telling jokes. Coming to all of her basketball games. He always said, “Make time for family, and family will make time for you.” And he’d been right. She’d spent every minute she could with him up until he died.

  “Guess you better go hang out with your kids.” She stood. “I have to get home anyway.”

  “What are you going to do about that lawyer thing?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I know I’m going to pray about it.”

  “Huh.” He stepped aside so she could exit the barn. “That’s a good idea. And what about that David guy?”

  She paused in the driveway. While she couldn’t stop thinking about David, it was going to take some time to figure out what their relationship was going to look like. “I think he blames himself that I got hurt.”

  Gerrit nodded slowly. Gravely. As if he had been there.

  She continued, “But it wasn’t his fault. Things happen, and people have to live with the results. That’s part of growing up. Part of life. It might be a while before I try driving again, though.”

  She pictured herself behind the wheel and, despite the accident, realized the thought of driving didn’t scare her as much as it did before. Her nightmare about careering down the hill toward her parents, out of control, hadn’t returned since she came home from the hospital. Maybe it hadn�
��t been the driving she was afraid of as much as where she thought she was headed.

  Gerrit reached out a hesitant hand and patted Mr. Whiskers on the head. “Don’t let fear hold you back.”

  She looked at the house, then back at him, and thought of Papa Tom. “You either.”

  GERRIT WATCHED RAE disappear into the woods, gingerly maneuvering over fallen branches and around salmonberry bushes. She was right. He was still afraid of opening his heart to Hannie and the kids. Afraid they would discover he had nothing to offer them. Afraid the farm had taken more than he could ever get back.

  He strode to the house and opened the door to the sound of lively voices. In the kitchen, Hannie was pulling food from the fridge, and Evi was leaning against the counter.

  “Dad.” Her eyes sparkled. “Is it true your rooster attacked Mr. Sinnema?”

  Gerrit rubbed the back of his neck. “He happened to run in George’s direction, yes. I wouldn’t say he attacked him.”

  “Poor Bernie is just misunderstood, isn’t he?”

  “I believe so.” He took the pitcher down from above the fridge. “George even called the cops on him.”

  Evi laughed, and it sounded like heaven. “I never heard about that.”

  “He asked me not to tell.”

  “Who? George?”

  “No.” He made a serious face. “Bernard.”

  Evi rolled her eyes. “Travis was afraid of him. Said he was watching his every move.”

  Gerrit smiled inwardly. He’d begun to suspect he and Bernard were kindred spirits. Now he knew for sure.

  “Where is Travis today, Ev?” Noah asked.

  “I . . .” Evi glanced at Gerrit. “Asked him not to come. This time.”

  Gerrit cringed. Was that his fault? Was his daughter afraid to bring her boyfriend over because she didn’t know what Gerrit might do? And why shouldn’t she be? He’d made a complete fool of himself last time. Only five days ago.

  He steeled himself. She’d avoided him and this house for long enough. He wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of her spending more time here. Even himself.

  He caught her eye and forced the words out. “He’s welcome anytime.”