“Dad, can you help me?” he’d asked.
“I gotta get back.”
“But I don’t understand this.”
“I won’t be able to explain it to you.”
Noah’s face had fallen. “I’m not stupid.”
That wasn’t what Gerrit had meant. Math was his nemesis, and he’d never been able to explain math concepts to anyone. Luke was the only reason he’d passed math. He’d stayed up late quizzing him and helping him work the problems out more nights than Gerrit could count.
But Noah just looked at him with hurt in his eyes, and Gerrit had steeled himself. “Ask your mother,” he’d said, then went back to the farm.
The rectangular white table returned. A pack of prepubescent boys roared with laughter at a table behind him. Daisy flopped on her back, inviting someone, anyone, to give her a belly rub, and Morgan leaned down to oblige.
Gerrit shook his head. Of course his son wasn’t stupid. He’d never once thought that.
He decided to try a different approach. “What are you working on in your notebook?”
“Nothing.”
So that’s how it was going to be.
“What grade are you in?”
“I’m graduating the end of May.”
Gerrit’s eyebrows rose. This kid didn’t look old enough to be graduating high school and going out into the world. Then again, there was something in his eyes that spoke of a maturity beyond his years.
“What do you plan to do after that?”
Morgan gave Daisy’s belly one last rub and sat back up. He glanced at the red notebook lying on the table. “I don’t know.”
Gerrit had always wondered what it would be like to be young and facing a future full of unknowns and possibilities rather than one that had been planned out for you by someone else since before you were born. He’d always figured it would feel like adventure and freedom, but looking at Morgan’s face, he wasn’t so sure.
“You going to college?”
Morgan shrugged. “What do you care?”
Gerrit sat back, hard. “I care.”
It wasn’t lost on him that he’d said those same two words to Evi only a few days before. She hadn’t believed him then, and Morgan probably didn’t now. Why didn’t anyone think he cared about anything?
He didn’t want to delve too deeply into that.
“There are some good community colleges around here.” He tried to sound casual. “Maybe that’d be a good place to start.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for college.”
Oh, the pain cut deep. This kid sure knew how to hit him where it hurt the most. Those were the same words he’d said to Luke a hundred times. But his big brother had refused to take no for an answer. He’d been determined to get Gerrit through college if it was the last thing he did.
He found himself borrowing Luke’s reply. “Says who?”
Morgan’s eyes flashed. “My dad. My teachers. Everyone.”
“What do you say?”
Morgan leaned his elbows on the table, his notebook between them. He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. That’s a coward’s response. You do know.”
Morgan’s head shot up. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Gerrit’s face remained stoic, but his innards churned. Daisy sat up and scooted between them as if to play mediator.
“Who do you think you are, anyway?” Morgan demanded. “You’re only here because you’re Rae’s grandpa.”
Gerrit huffed. He wasn’t old enough to be her—okay, maybe he was. But still. “Rae’s my neighbor. That’s all.”
“Then why are you here?”
Yes, why? That was the million-dollar question. He looked down at Daisy, who was swinging her head back and forth between them as if following the conversation. He wasn’t sure why he’d come. He’d mentioned it to Hannie, and she’d said it would be a great activity to keep him busy. Yet boredom alone couldn’t explain why he was sitting at a table with some angsty kid and a pesky dog, trying not to look like an idiot.
All he knew was that he hadn’t been able to get Morgan’s face, and that expression that reminded him of Evi, out of his mind.
“I don’t know.”
Morgan’s face turned smug. “Who’s the coward now?”
Gerrit laughed. He couldn’t help it. It bubbled up and spilled over, and he couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. “I guess we both are.”
The ghost of a smile flashed across Morgan’s face. Gerrit looked around at the dozens of kids caterwauling around the room. He had nothing to lose. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth, if you tell me the truth.”
It was a scary thing, holding an offer like that out there.
Morgan narrowed his eyes. “You first.”
Fair enough.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve got two kids. They’re grown now.”
Morgan waited.
“You remind me of them. And of myself, when I was young. That’s why I’m here. Besides, you said you loved dogs, and I’ve got a dog.”
Daisy laid her head on Gerrit’s knee. Aw, shoot. He’d claimed her as his own. She’d never let him forget it.
Morgan nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Gerrit let out a long breath as his shoulders drooped. This whole thing was exhausting. “Your turn.”
Morgan picked up the notebook and gripped it with both hands. The cover was worn. The spiral stretched out on top. “I want to be a songwriter.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in. A songwriter? Did people go to school for that sort of thing? He had no experience with any form of creative endeavor. Didn’t know anyone like that.
Except Hannie. His mind flashed to Hannie at her shop, carefully arranging her bouquets, and it smacked him like an errant hoof upside the head that it was more than a job to her.
She was an artist.
“What does that mean?” He was way out of his element here. “What do songwriters do?”
He braced himself, half expecting Morgan to snap at him with the obvious They write songs, dummy. But he was looking for more than that, and Morgan seemed to
