Farrah spentthe following day in the company of strawberry plants and mushrooms. Meagan had called in sick, and Audra had gone up to Montpelier to browse through the biggest nursery in Vermont, leaving Farrah alone in the botanical boutique.
She started her day by checking on the fish. She felt a connection to them, and the Bybees had two groups of tilapia right now. Some that were in the main tank—the one shaded by the vertically grown strawberries—and a batch that was six weeks old and had to be fed by hand.
Farrah weighed out the food and put it in the blue barrels, watching the clock and the food consumption. These younger fish were fed as much as they would eat in thirty minutes, and Meagan expected impeccable records of how much and when the fish were fed.
Farrah thrived on procedures, and she went through the daily water checks for pH, and today she needed to do the weekly tests for ammonia levels, nitrates, and dissolved oxygen. The boutique brought in the most money for the tilapia, and Farrah had grown a soft spot in her heart for the fish.
With the aqua part of her aquaponics job done, Farrah left the shed and wandered to the tree line beyond the greenhouse. She pulled out her sandwich and ate lunch in the quiet stillness of Vermont’s countryside.
She’d never felt so at peace, despite her confessions to Darren the previous day. He hadn’t tried to call her last night or come over to convince her that she was lovable. This morning, though, he’d texted her a link she hadn’t opened yet.
That was all. A single link. No explanation. No argument about what she’d told him. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting his reaction to be, but a quiet acceptance of who she was and what she’d done had unsettled her.
She finished her peanut butter and peach jam sandwich and tapped on the link he’d sent. A music video popped up, and the song that started playing was one of her favorite hymns. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, through her, the power of the lyrics enough to move her to tears.
They were all about the Lord’s love and acceptance of his children. For a long time after she’d discovered she was adopted, she’d wondered why God would allow her to feel so forgotten. To be so lost. To be abandoned by her own flesh and blood.
After a while, and after she’d stopped going to church, she realized that God didn’t do things to her. He did themforher.
She’d slowly come back from a disastrous marriage, the wrong career choice, and the agonizing rejection of her birth father. And coming back from all of that had left her without anywhere else to go.
So she’d come home.
And coming home to Island Park had been harder than she’d expected. But going out to Steeple Ridge? That hadn’t been nearly as hard as she’d expected. The same level of peace existed there. The same comfort. The sameness of the place, more than anything, reminded her of how unchangeable God was.
Am I lovable?she thought to herself.Am I, Lord?She sent the thoughts skyward now, hoping for an affirmation from Him.
Nothing happened, besides the playful breeze that was already blowing and the rustling of grasses somewhere beyond her sight. She tapped out a quickThanksto Darren, sent the text, and went back inside the aquaponics shed to harvest butter lettuce and romaine lettuce.
She prepped the harvesting stations first, following the procedures in the binder Meagan had drilled into her. Tables got disinfected. Bags for product were labeled with stickers proclaiming their pesticide and herbicide-free contents. All the lettuces were sustainable and locally grown.
Meagan had procured contracts with grocery stores right here in Island Park, as well as Burlington, Bolton, and Middlebury. Farrah would harvest the lettuces today and spend tomorrow morning delivering them to the stores in the nearby vicinity. Because the plants were harvested with full roots intact, they were considered living and would last for up to two weeks outside of the rafts where they’d been growing for the past several weeks.
Farrah lifted the first raft of bright green butter lettuce to the cart and wheeled it into the prepared harvesting room. She carefully pulled the plants from the holes in the rafts—a long,white tray with holes in it—and placed them on a length of cheesecloth. She repeated this process until she’d emptied five rafts, which produced one hundred heads of lettuce.
She cut and carefully wrapped the roots, taking care to keep them intact and moist. She worked with sure strokes, the silence of the greenhouse soothing. Her mind wandered as she placed each head of lettuce in a labeled bag and put the finished product in a bin.
The hours passed quickly, the work exhilarating and fulfilling. With all the romaine and butter lettuce ready, Farrah headed out for the day. Tomorrow, she’d take care of the fish again, deliver the lettuce, and transfer seedlings into the newly vacated rafts. If she had time, she’d seed more plants and put them on the vertical shelves to sprout.
She loved that there was always something to be done. Loved the vibrancy of the basil, the chives, the mint, the cilantro. The scent of the herbs buoyed her spirits, and she thanked the Lord for the opportunity to be doing this instead of fixing the pin setter for the tenth time or handing out used shoes.
Now if she could just fix things with Darren, maybe she’d be able to find a way to live free from the guilt that had been crushing her since she’d broken up with him three months ago.
She went to leave, turning back to the boutique as the light of the day started to wane. “See you tomorrow,” she said to all the plants, all the fish, her voice carrying easily through the massive greenhouse.
Outside, the sky threatened to swallow her whole, but she gazed up into the vastness of it and felt the measure of her own creation. A smile spread across her face, and she took a moment to enjoy it. Enjoy the sunshine on her face and the crispness of the air. Enjoy her life.
She took a deep breath and dug through her bag for her keys before she realized Darren was sitting on the trunk of her car.He slid down, his boots thunking against the packed dirt where she’d parked.
“Dinner?” he asked, tucking his hands in his pockets and watching her with an even gaze.
“I don’t know, Darren.”
He took a slow step toward her, then another. Soon enough, he pierced her personal space and gazed down at her with an intensity she’d only seen a couple of other times. “You are lovable, Farrah,” he said fiercely and fondly at the same time. “And I would know, because I fell in love with you.”
chapter
nine
