Planted with Hope by Tricia Goyer

stop by later today, after I write up my seed order. I’ve been looking through the catalogs at every chance.”
    Lovina pointed to a gray folding chair leaning against the back of the warehouse. “I brought that for you. I thought it would make it easier to sit and write everything out.”
    Hope stroked her chin. “You think of everything, don’t you? I can’t imagine a better big sister.”
    â€œTook me twenty-five years to hear you say that!” Lovina chuckled as she called back over her shoulder. “Enjoy your dirt.”
    â€œIt’s soil,” Hope mumbled as she sat down with a notebook. “Dirt is what four-year-old boys dig around in.” And she couldn’t help but smile, too, as Lovina disappeared around the corner.
    Hope eyed the beds, feeling as if she’d just been given the greatest gift of her life. She’d been thinking about what she wanted to plant over the last two weeks. She’d even looked up planting schedules for Florida gardens at the library, but she’d almost been afraid to plan. But now she could get started in earnest. With the large raised boxes she had as much space as a large garden, half of her space back home. She copied the layout on the notebook, and then began to fill the boxes.
    Pole beans, okra, eggplant, and green peppers in one box. Lima beans and cantaloupe in another. She was writing “tomatoes and green onions” in a third box when footsteps sounded behind her. It was an older gentleman, one she’d seen around town. She believed he was a full-time resident, but she couldn’t be sure. He was a shorter man, and instead of an Amish shirt he wore a short-sleeved shirt in plaid. He wore dark rimmed glasses, and his short cropped hair was more gray than brown. She guessed him to be one of the Mennonite men in town.
    The man pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “I hear that you’re putting in a garden here.”
    â€œ Ja , it’s so wunderbar . My sister set it up for me.”
    He approached and stood over her shoulder, reading her notes. He nodded in approval. “ Ja , that will work.”
    â€œWhy, thank you… ” She grimaced. I didn’t realize this was a joint effort.
    â€œAre you going to plant asparagus? Rhubarb?”
    â€œI wasn’t thinking rhubarb, but asparagus could be a possibility.”
    â€œ Ne , don’t do that. Neither of them grow well in Florida. Don’t even waste your time.”
    She nodded. “ Ja , okay. I won’t.”
    She waited for him to leave. When he didn’t, she pretended he wasn’t there. She wrote “carrots and radishes” in another box and tried to think through the rest of the spaces. It didn’t work. His nearness caused her chest to tighten. She forced calm, rhythmic breaths and told herself to focus on the stillness of this place. On the quiet.
    â€œIt’s good to see that the boxes run north and south… ”
    â€œ Ja , then the exposure to sunlight is even for all rows.”
    â€œYou know a bit about gardening.” His glasses slid down his nose, and she resisted the urge to push them back up for him.
    Then, over the noise of a truck rumbling down the road in front of the pie shop, she heard more voices approaching. Two women were talking loudly and discussing gardening. Hope heard one urging the other to join her in walking behind the pie shop to take a look at the new garden there.
    Please keep going. Please keep going.
    She turned back to her new friend, who continued to hover close. “Gardening is my favorite thing to do.” Hope caught the man’s gaze and forced a smile. “I love the stillness. I love working alone with nature… ” She rose. Would it be rude to excuse herself and finish her planning at home? Would it be rude to put up a NO TRESPASSING sign? If she were back in Ohio no one would dream of going onto another person’s property and