“Who knew that working in the earth could be so therapeutic?” Chanel mused, adjusting the large straw hat on her head.
She was in the garden with Ryder the very next morning, dressed in enough layers to withstand the early-morning chill, though the sun’s rays kept her warm.
Ryder had headed over after putting Gabby on the bus, and they’d just finished laying the soil and were ready to plant cabbage, kale, garlic, peas and, of course, more carrots. Those vegetables were hearty enough to withstand winter weather, and the fencing was high enough to keep rabbits from jumping into the garden. She felt confident they would finally reap a good crop this time.
“I agree,” Ryder said, running soil through his hands. “I see a powerful message in what we’re about to do.”
“How so?” she asked, raising a brow and stooping next to him.
“Tilling the earth is akin to giving yourself a new beginning—a rebirth, if you will. And the soil is rich with compost and all different kinds of minerals—a blend of the refuse in our lives that God uses as a foundation to bring new growth.”
Chanel nodded, patting the soil with her hands. She had tossed her gloves aside, loving the feel of the smooth earth in her hands. “I can see that.” She cocked her head. “Don’t tell me you missed your calling—you’re preaching this morning.”
Quirking his lips, Ryder gave her a light jab. “Quit teasing. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m serious.” She straightened. “I used to find working in the garden therapeutic. There’s something soothing about this. Getting back to basics.”
“There’s nothing basic about this.”
She cracked up. “Ryder, you need to get out more.”
He placed a hand on his chin. “You know, I would be offended if what you said wasn’t true. Before you and Gabby, I was a loner, content to remain in my own world. But then Gabby entered my life like a ray of sunshine, ripping apart my orderly existence, and I can’t say I regret it one bit.” He pointed her way. “And you. You’re the pleasant surprise—the cherry on top of the sundae—that I didn’t see coming.”
Whew. This man. Chanel dabbed the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay, you need to quit it with the heartfelt speeches. It’s too early for that, and I’m not trying to get dirt in my eyes because you decide to be profound.”
“I can’t help it. It’s your fault for being the best friend on the planet.”
Chanel touched her chest, ignoring the twinge that he only saw her as a friend, and held up her other hand. “Any more compliments and I’m going to be a mess.” Her heart swelled knowing Ryder held her in such regard. Of course, her fear of his reaction when he learned the truth about her identity ballooned, but she stamped it down. She just had to make sure to be the first to tell him once her sister was safe.
Ryder chuckled and went to retrieve the seedlings in labeled Ziploc baggies. Holding them out, he asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got to say about the seeds.”
“Jesus already took care of that,” he said, referring to the parable of the Sower and the Seed. “I can’t mess with perfection.” He got on his knees beside her.
She giggled and chose the bag labeled “Carrots.” “If I know you, you won’t be able to help yourself.”
“This from the woman who batted her lashes at me and said, ‘Let’s plant seeds together,’ all breathy, like you were inviting me on the most romantic date in the world.”
Date? She’d mull that over later.
Chanel cracked up at Ryder, who had blinked his eyes and mimicked her voice with a much higher, nasally octave.
“I didn’t say it all breathy.” She tossed dirt at him. “And you just proved my point about your needing to get out more if you think this is a date,” she added, enjoying their playful banter as friends. “Because wading around in the dirt is definitely not my idea of a date—although, it’s been fifteen years, so the dating guidelines might have changed.”
Ryder grew serious and turned to face her. “You haven’t been on a date in fifteen years?”
“No,” she said, swirling her finger in the soil. “It probably sounds pitiful, my mourning a man for that long.”
“Is it mourning or guilt?” he asked.
His words hit the center of her heart. “It didn’t feel right moving on when I’m the reason Warren died.” She splayed out her hands. “We had plans. We were going to work this farm, and then one fateful day changed all that. I think that’s why I avoided getting this garden together. A part of me felt like Warren and I should be doing this together.”
He grew quiet after that. Contemplative.
Chanel opened one of the seed baggies, sorry she had ruined their lighthearted conversation by talking about Warren. She stuck her finger about an inch deep into the soil and dug a small trench. Ryder squatted beside her to plant his seeds. Side by side, they went down the rows, helping each other as needed, sprinkling the seeds, leaving space between so that the vegetables could grow unimpeded. Then they covered the seeds, patting the earth with their hands. When they were finished, they each placed a marker in the earth.
Chanel watered the seeds. Stepping back, she admired their progress.
Now, she didn’t know if it was because Ryder had mentioned the word date or because she had not been part of the dating scene for over a decade, but working like this with him felt...intimate. Companionable. Right. Guilt over enjoying herself with someone other than Warren filled her.
Ryder released a plume of air, uttered a low, “Hallelujah,” wiped his face and stared at her. His gaze held a light heat, and Chanel had to look away. He tucked a hand under her chin to get her to face him. “You were right,” he said in a low voice. “I am going to try to add to perfection.”
For some reason, her heart raced, and it took a second for her mind to register that he was referring to her earlier comment about the seeds. But she did her best to appear unaffected, which meant she would have to look at him. Dusting off her hands, Chanel tipped her hat so she could see Ryder’s eyes.
“Let’s have it,” she said, her tone playful.
He reached out to touch her curls. “Just now, when we were laying the seeds in the ground, we moved in sync, as a unit. You helped me, and I helped you. I started to see how God brought us together for a greater purpose.”
“To restore a vegetable garden?” she asked, her brows furrowed.
“No, silly.” He chuckled. “Stay with me.” He scooted close. “I don’t know your full story, but you know about my parents’ abandonment. You had carrot seeds and I had peas.” He touched his chin.
Chanel cracked up and gestured her hands between them. “We’re like peas and carrots. Different, but we work well together. Is that what you’re saying?”
His lips quirked. “I can see I’m rubbing off on you, but there’s more.”
“Okay, I want to hear it, but this sun is toasting my arms. Why don’t we finish up inside?” She got to her feet and held out a hand.
With a nod, Ryder placed his hand in hers and jumped to his feet. They put the garden tools away, and then Chanel escorted him through the back door and into the kitchen. When she entered the house, she thought of Cara and was glad she had listened to her sister and put away the pictures of them together.
Ryder stepped over the threshold and paused.
“What is it?” Chanel asked, washing her hands and then retrieving two glasses for some lemonade. She opened the refrigerator, welcoming the cool blast of air. She was going to take a cold shower later.
“This is my first time coming in here.” He sounded humbled. “Thanks for letting me into your home.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go reading something symbolic into this moment.”
His eyes narrowed, though they held mischief. “Stop reading my mind.”
He had never imagined a few months ago that he would be inside Cara’s home. But here he was—and yes, for him, this was momentous. A home was a sanctuary, a safe place. Only those you trusted should be let inside.
And he found her place charming. Although he would not have thought Cara would be into the frilly kitchen curtains or the rustic white-wood kitchen layout with a barn door, which probably led to a bathroom or pantry. “You have a nice home,” he said, eyeing the large plaque over the kitchen table that said Gather Together.
Cara waved a hand and tapped the chair next to her. “I’ll give you a tour later. Now, get over here so you can finish telling me what you had to say about the seeds.”
He shuffled over to the chair, took a sip of the lemonade and then licked his lips. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m thirsty, but this is tasting extra delicious.”
“Cooking might not be my forte, but I make a wicked-good pitcher of lemonade. Nothing beats freshly squeezed lemons.”
Ryder kept drinking until it was gone, then gave a satisfied sigh. “Now, back to what I was saying.”
She leaned forward, taking off her hat and placing it on the table.
He began, “As we were planting, God was speaking to my heart. You have your carrots, and I have my peas—which in this analogy represent our past pain. What we did today was bury the seeds of our past pains that we carry every day, that hinder our progress. In this case, Jesus is both the soil and water.”
Ryder ran his hands through his hair. “We have to bury our past in Him. He enfolds our pain and showers us with His love. It is only because of His love that we experience new growth. So what this all means is that in order to move forward, we have to bury all the pain of the past. It’s the only way we will eventually see the fruit of our labor.”
“Wow. That’s deep.” Cara’s eyes appeared misty. “But how do you do that?”
“Sometimes, it means taking a step, like you did today.” His heart pounded. For as he spoke to encourage her, he was also talking to himself.
“It means confronting the fear that scares you the most, like perhaps building a garden with someone new.” He patted her arm. “I know that garden was something you wanted to do with your husband—on an even grander scale.” He touched his chest. “I’m blessed to be the friend that you shared that dream with and made a new memory with. It doesn’t replace the old. It’s starting the new.”
“What’s your ‘seed’?” she asked, using her fingers as air quotes.
His chest tightened. “My parents’ abandonment. I sat in that theater for hours. I told the attendants my parents were coming back. I refused to leave. Because of that, I didn’t trust anyone, didn’t allow anyone to get close. If no one got close, I couldn’t love them and they couldn’t hurt me. I wrapped myself in this cocoon of loneliness, not wanting anyone, not needing anyone. But I didn’t know I wasn’t living. Being afraid isn’t living.”
He expected compassion, but instead, Cara pursed her lips and kicked back in the chair. “Naw. That’s not it.”
“What do you mean, that’s not it?” His mouth popped open. “That was the most traumatic experience of my life.”
“I’m not denying it was traumatic. Horrible, even. It changed the course of your life. How you do things. But your seed today is Christmas.”
He lost his breath and shook his head. “We’ve been through this before. I don’t do Christmas.”
“Why? What did Christmas do to you?”
Jabbing his index finger on the table, he snarled, “Christmas, the celebrated day of goodwill, was the worst day of my life. That very morning, I sat at the breakfast table. My mother had made a huge breakfast—a farewell feast,” he said with bitterness. “She made all my favorites—waffles, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon... She bought chocolate-covered doughnuts.”
His breath caught. “My father brought boxes down from the attic. There was a ton of gifts under the tree. I got a bike, Rollerblades, action figures, clothes... Everything you can think of, they bought for me. I opened all these presents, and I was so happy. All I was thinking about was that I couldn’t wait to get to school after winter break so I could tell my friends...” Tears slipped past his lids. Choked up, he lowered his chin to his chest, barely able get the words out. “After we opened the gifts, that’s when we went to the movies. That’s when they left me. For good.”
He heard her sniffle. When he glanced her way, he could see that her face was doused with tears.
“I don’t get it. Why would they leave?”
“I’ve asked myself that for years,” he croaked. “But I don’t have a clear answer. I did some digging, and I think they were in debt and about to lose the house, but that’s no excuse.”
“That’s horrible. Simply horrible.” She shook her head. “Why did they go through all the effort of buying all those gifts if they knew they were going to leave?”
His lips curled. “I’ve thought a lot about that. I think they were buying me gifts for each year of my birthday they would miss.” His voice hitched. “As if a bunch of things could make up for losing them. You know what happened to all those presents?”
She cocked her head. “What?”
He lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t want them. The social worker brought me home to gather my stuff, and right away, I saw the entire house had been emptied. The only thing left were my clothes, the tree and—” his lips curled again “—the gifts. They had fattened me up, so to speak, knowing they would leave me. This wasn’t a random act. It was planned. I bounded up the stairs to get my clothes—the social worker insisted on that. But she couldn’t get me to touch those presents...the huge reminders of what I’d lost.” His voice broke. “I would have traded them all to get my parents back, to get their love. Every time I see a tree, an ornament, the Christmas wrapping paper, that’s all I think about...”
Snatching a few of the napkins off the table, he wiped his face. His heart hurt. He had never shared that with anyone before today. Not even God.
Cara’s mouth popped open, forming an O. “Now I understand,” she said, nodding. “I get it. I get it. Whew.” Fanning her eyes with her hands, she excused herself and ran into the little half bath near the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. Seconds later, he heard her low sobs.
And he knew in that moment, she wasn’t crying for herself. She was crying for him—and the little lost boy within.
His heart moved. Closing his eyes, he prayed a single line: “Lord, I give this seed over to You.”
When she finally came out of the bathroom, her eyes were puffy and her tone nasal. She stood with her arms about her and whispered, “Thank you for what you did for me today. And for sharing your seed.” She cleared her throat. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He looked at the clock in the kitchen. Was it really only 10:30 a.m.? It felt like he had been baring his soul for hours instead of mere minutes.
Curious, Ryder stood and allowed her to lead him. They walked through the kitchen and into the living room area. He took in her Southern Belle sofa with plush cushions and spindly legs. On the mantel were numerous pictures of Cara with her parents that he would have loved to study, but she was moving.
After opening a door and turning the light on, she took him downstairs to the basement. There was a huge sectional, a coffee table, a full bath and a small room for storage. Bins of all sizes and shapes, neatly labeled. His eyes fell on an oversize gray bin with the name Warren written on it in permanent marker.
Cara went to lift it. Ryder raced to assist, toting the bin and following after her. He placed it in the middle of the room as she requested, then squatted to join her on the floor.
Her face had paled and her hands shook, but she opened the bin. Inside were pictures of a tall dark-skinned man with wide shoulders. She pulled out a picture of the two of them and held it up for him to see before resting it next to her. Rummaging around, Cara pulled out a small album.
She opened to the first page, drew in a deep breath and covered her mouth. A two-by-four-inch black-and-white sonogram picture had been preserved underneath the plastic of the photo album, its edges a little yellowed.
“This is my daughter,” she whispered, the heartache ringing through her tone. “The one I lost before I got to see her face.”