Beyond the Pine Read Free Page A

sigh and stand, drying my bare body and pulling my worn nightshirt on over my head.
    “Dreams are for people who aren’t at peace with their reality, Riley,” I remind myself quietly, releasing the tie from my hair. “Be content in your blessings, find purpose in your duties.”
    I sip my tea and make my way to my bedroom, reading my Bible before drifting off to what I hope will be a dreamless sleep.
    Tomorrow is a day that’s sure to be full of obligation and duty.
    There’s no place for dreaming in a reality like mine.

Chapter Three
    Riley
    “It’s on days such as these, those riddled with trials, sacrifice and mercy that we should look to the Lord. We shall follow His great word, His wise prophecy and know that in His hands, we are secure,” the Reverend speaks loudly, pulling a nod from each member of the congregation.
    We stand before him amongst the withering crops, taking in the drought that has had such a negative impact on our production over the past few months.
    The east end of the farm isn’t one I’d visited often, even as a girl. I always found it odd how we could share such a great relationship with every facet of our community, but still be so widely spread apart.
    Looking over the people I’ve come to know as family, I’m ashamed to say there are a few that I’ve rarely spoken to in my lifetime.
    It’s not out of judgment or lack of interest that I’ve not come in contact with this part of my community. On the contrary, I’d always held those who cared for our crops in the highest regard.
    More often than not, I’m sad to say that aside from our weekly services at the church, most of the people I’d come to know from the far east side of the farm had been due to them falling ill.
    However, being the daughter of the head nurse at the infirmary, it wasn’t often I had time to explore the quaint area we called home.
    Every person, every single life that was a part of this great community was given a purpose. Even years before we’d been given our proper work assignments, there were chores, duties for which we were responsible. We each had a role with which we were expected to fulfill in order to ensure the future success of the place we called home.
    My mother explained it to me like a quilt.
    Each square on its own was beautiful, unique even. However, in order to reach our greatest potential, we must come together, each piece completing its duty of offering warmth, comfort and a helping hand.
    That’s what this farm, our home, had always been. A great way of offering our helping hands, our own unique gifts to one another in order to serve the greater good.
    I smile quietly to myself, the treasured memory of my mother explaining to me the way our world works filling me with deep love and great pride.
    “ Sometimes, it takes a village, Riley ,” she’d always said, her kind voice, her loving smile filling my mind’s eye with warmth and comfort even now.
    “The fruits of our labor shall be rewarded with great results,” the Reverend continues, his deep, booming voice pulling me away from my wandering thoughts, filling me with guilt for having drifted off to begin with. “If only we continue to place our trust in His path for our future, the light He so graciously puts in our path.”
    “Amen.”
    The voices of the men of the east end of our small, farming community sound out in approval of the Reverend’s words.
    His wisdom, his words of community and faith fill my heart with gratitude as I whisper my thanks for his leadership in these trying times.
    For the third month in a row, our crops have come up short. Each time he’d been asked to visit, to bless the land, he’d traveled here to the far end of the property to lend words of blessings and promises of a better tomorrow.
    Our community had seen times like these before. Helpless as they’d made us feel, the Reverend has always had a way about him that calmed our nervous thoughts.
    With a quick sermon and a few words of comfort,