The Growing Season by Jane Lorenzini

Author:Jane Lorenzini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nest Press
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Belle was out in the field trying hard to stay focused on the maturing plants, but she was failing. Her thoughts kept drifting back to her horrible discovery on Boone’s boat. Angrily, she dragged a hoe across weeds, cutting their leaves and stems away from the root. Thank goodness she’d kept the news of Boone’s proposal to herself! They’d agreed to stay quiet about it until he returned from Kissimmee so they could share the good news together. But now there was only bad news. No marriage, no baby, no more believing that a long-lasting love was within reach for her.

She stopped working briefly and looked over at the club members, a half-hearted attempt to be grateful. Yes, she was blessed with people who loved her, and she them. And Merle and Abigail were angels in her life. But a relationship with a partner, a secret keeper, a protector . . . all of that was over.

“Stupid me,” she whispered.

She stopped trying to be positive and allowed herself to fume. She imagined Despair wrestling Gratitude to the ground and shoving its stupid tranquil face into the dirt. Deflated, she let the hoe drop to the ground and sat next to it, hugging her knees. Betrayal was such a devious magician. As if with the poof of a wand, all her insecurities had reappeared. She was an outsider again. A smelly orphan with no voice, invisible to those with the power to protect her. How had she ever come to finally believe that she deserved⁠—or could sustain⁠—a romantic relationship? So much had been stolen from her before she could choose it.

Last year, dreadful Julius⁠—in town from Tampa⁠—had tracked her down in the cottage and assaulted her in bed. In pain and a state of delirium, she’d stabbed him repeatedly, every jab to his neck a failed attempt to undo both what he’d just done to her and their twisted past. She’d managed to kill him, but he’d lived on in the form of a baby inside her.

Desperate after realizing her agonizing situation, she’d drunk countless cups of herbal tea, hoping to stop the pregnancy. By her actions⁠—or by the grace of God⁠—she’d had a miscarriage, another terrifying and painful experience. Broken and vulnerable, Belle had turned to Boone for support after both ordeals. They’d been there for each other as they healed from tragedies, and they’d fallen deeply in love. But now the man she’d believed was her warrior had betrayed and deceived her. Once again, she was damaged and abandoned. Poof.

Belle reached for weeds growing near where she sat, ripping them from the soil and tossing them into a messy pile. As her mind churned, she grabbed handfuls of chickweed and dandelions, tugging at the invaders. Then she crawled on her hands and knees through several rows, attacking quack grass and yanking on stubborn pigweed until its roots gave way.

“Belle . . . ,” a voice said. A hand touched her back, startling her. “Take a break, dear.”

Belle turned and sat upright.

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