Franklin County, Vermont, borders the Canadian province of Quebec. After answering an unfathomable amount of questions at the Richford-Vermont border, Lili was on her way to Stella’s.
Stella was an Organic garlic farmer and it took a few people to get the job done. Luckily, Stella had a few friends. Unfortunately, her boyfriend wasn’t there to help plant the bulbs for the following year’s harvest. They parted as friends, but they would never see each other again. He moved back to Colorado where he was originally from.
Lili crossed the bridge and followed Boston Post Rd until she reached Witchcat Rd. Lili got out of the car and looked at the huge black iron sign of a cat, which was mounted on the side of the barn. Entering the old farmhouse was like visiting the 1700’s with some modern updates like new windows, a fresh coat of paint in every room, and new woodstoves to keep the place toasty warm. Before Stella’s husband died, they worked hard to maintain the charm of the house, by keeping the wood beams in the ceilings, refinishing the original hardwood floors, and the trim, as well as fixing the original stone fireplace in the living room.
Once Lili realized Stella wasn’t in the house, she walked back outside where she could see the farm. Huge gardens filled with every vegetable you could imagine, lettuce the size of bushes, tomatoes, potatoes, and the berry bushes that would soon be blooming.
In the distance, beyond the massive gardens, Lili saw a man crouched down next to what looked like a horse. As she walked closer Lili realized the horse was giving birth. She fell into a light jog until she reached the beautiful brown Stallion doing the most natural thing. The horse was doing most of the work, and the man gave a gentle tug now and then. He stood up and removed his glove. “You must be, Lili.” He reached out his hand.
“I…uh, yes…and you are?”
“I’m Hazen, Stella’s son.”
“How did you know who I was?”
“I listened to my mother’s answering machine when I got here. You sounded a little desperate.” Hazen reached down and gave another gentle tug on the legs of the mare. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yes, of course,” she said, unconvincingly.
Hazen sized her up from his crouched position. He shuffled a step back from the horse. He watched as the sun beat through her strands of hair, making her look blonde again.
“Oh, wait a second, I know who you are, Lili Wentworth, right?”
“I thought we established that already.”
“I knew your name was Lili because of your message on my mother’s answering machine, but I didn’t realize until now that you are Andrew and Abigail Wentworth’s daughter. You don’t have to hide your Gifts here.”
Lili turned her gaze back on the Stallion giving birth. It was a natural process and one that always fascinated Lili. She remembered watching Mr. McCarthy doing the exact same thing on her farm back home. She missed Mr. McCarthy and the ease of those days; the excitement of the sunrise after a deep solitary sleep. No ghost would dare bother young Lili. Her father saw to that.
“Where is Stella?”
“She’s helping an old friend. He’s taken ill. She’ll be back in another day.” Hazen stood next to Lili as they watched the small mare slide out of her mother. Both mare and mother remained on the ground and looked at each other for a long time.
The sun would set soon so Lili and Hazen returned to the farmhouse. She was famished and began rummaging through the cupboards for something to cook.
“Here, let me,” Hazen said. He took over the kitchen and created a beautiful vegetarian concoction. He served it on Stella’s pottery, handed Lili a cloth napkin, and walked out onto the porch to watch the sun descend behind the mountains.