The farmer answers on the third ring. The video takes a few seconds to clear up its signal, and when it does, I realize she’s in a greenhouse, kneeling in a row between raised beds.
She’s petite, dwarfed by huge, dark green leaves, and she has a bright, radiating energy. Wispy strands of dark brown hair have escaped a ponytail. She waves at the screen. “Hi Mercy.”
“Did Cash call you?”
“I might have missed a call, let me check.” Shereaches for the phone, bringing it closer to her face. Up close, I can see slight lines around her eyes and mouth. She’s probably my mother’s age.
“He says your spring kale harvest is bonkers.” Mercy nudges the phone to the side to reveal me. “This is Hope. She’s been helping me in the kitchen, but she has a little girl and it’s hard to keep an eye on her at the same time. She’s only here for a few days, but she’s looking for some work.”
“Ah, yes, he texted me.” Luna refocuses on us. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” My voice sounds rough.
“Do you have any experience in a garden?”
I nod as Bellamy climbs onto my back. She waves at the screen. “Hi.”
Luna’s expression immediately softens, and for a moment, there’s something oddly familiar about the way she smiles at my daughter. “Hi, sweetheart. How old are you?”
“I’m three.”
“I understand you’re going to come and see my farm. Your Mommy is going to help me with my vegetables.”
“Mommyhatesdirt,” Bellamy says dramatically. And not untruthfully.
I wince. “Not now, Bella.” I refocus on my potential employer. “I’m fine with dirt. And gardens, and kale. I’m happy to work hard, I promise.”
Luna nods and shrugs at the same time. “All right. I could use a spare set of hands, and I have lots of flowers for a three-year-old to investigate.”
“Flowers?” Bellamy gasps in an exaggerated way. “Mommy, let’s go see flowers!”
Mercy gives me another look, a wordless question.Yes? Is this okay?
I don’t know if anything is ever going to beokay again, but this does sound better than another shift washing dishes. I nod.
It doesn’t take long to gather our few belongings, then grab Bellamy’s car seat.
“Cash will tow your car over to the garage later,” Mercy promises me. “You don’t need to worry about it for a few days. Just focus on resting and working with Luna, and everything will sort itself out.”
I’m not sure how I’lljustfocus on resting and working, but I do like the relief that I feel when we leave town, driving back the way I came in.
The vegetable farm isn’t far from where we pulled over the first time, in a gorgeous valley with mountains rising in the background.
We pass a few ranches on the way down the dusty side road, then at the very end, where the gravel road turns into a private late, we drive under a backlit gate made of large black beams.
Ponds and trees dot either side, and Bellamy sees horses in the pasture—that gets a shriek of delight.
After a terrifying week of flight and stress and pain, literal and emotional, that glee at seeing horses makes me want to cry.
My eyes burn as we pass a sprawling ranch house and pull to a stop in front of an octagonal greenhouse.
Maybe Mercy is right. Maybe I just need to take a few days here to rest with Bellamy, pick some kale for Luna, and gather the courage to keep running from the mistakes of my lust as soon as my car is fixed.
The door to the greenhouse opens and a small woman steps out. She’s shorter than me, and in person, her warm brown hair is streaked with grey.
Her dirt-smudged t-shirt saysHex the Patriarchy, which is unexpected enough that it eases the panic that makes it hard to breathe.
Just enough.
