Chapter 3 — Roots of Connection
Olivia
The mid-morning sunlight streamed through the wide classroom windows, spilling golden pools across the tiled floor. Olivia Hart knelt by the edge of a low table, her hands deftly arranging tiny pots filled with damp soil into neat rows. Each pot bore a small label, written in her tidy script, with the names of her students. She smiled softly as her fingers brushed over the label reading "Amelia Lorne." Growing something, she thought, had a way of grounding people. For children like Amelia, it was a gentle path toward nurturing confidence, one tiny sprout at a time.
The chatter of the children swelled behind her, a rising tide of eager voices. The second day of the gardening project was underway, and her kindergartners were bubbling with excitement to see if their seeds had somehow sprouted overnight. Though Olivia had explained that growth took time, patience wasn’t yet a mastered skill for most five-year-olds.
She adjusted one of the pots, her mind briefly drifting to the larger community effort that had made the gardening project possible. Parents had donated seeds and tools, the local hardware store had provided the pots, and a retired carpenter had crafted the little wooden labels. It was Everdale at its best—a town that fostered connection and growth, much like the tiny seeds now nestled in the soil.
A sudden burst of giggles drew her attention to a small scuffle near the supply table. Liam and Sophie, two of her more exuberant students, were both reaching for the same watering can, their faces scrunched in determination. “One at a time, please,” Olivia said gently, stepping over to mediate. “There’s plenty to share.”
As the children settled, her gaze shifted to Amelia lingering toward the back of the group. The little girl’s fingers twisted the hem of her dress, her green eyes darting uncertainly toward the other children. Olivia’s heart gave a familiar tug—a quiet ache she’d come to recognize when she saw one of her students trying to find their courage.
“Alright, everyone,” Olivia called, clasping her hands together and standing. Her floral skirt swished gently with the motion. “Who wants to check on their sunflower seeds?”
The response was immediate: a joyful chorus of “Me!” erupted as tiny hands shot up in unison. Olivia chuckled, her gaze naturally drawn to Amelia, whose hand remained at her side. With a small movement, Amelia clutched her dress tighter, her eyes fixed on the floor, her curls bouncing slightly as she shifted her weight.
Olivia stepped through the sea of eager children and crouched near Amelia, lowering herself to the girl’s eye level. “Amelia,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Would you like to check on your sunflower?”
Amelia’s eyes darted up, hesitant but curious. After a moment’s pause, she gave a small nod. “Okay,” she whispered, the word barely audible.
“Come on, then.” Olivia extended her hand, palm up, and Amelia’s small fingers slipped into hers with a feather-light touch. Together, they approached the table where the pots were neatly arranged, each one identical with its dark, carefully packed soil. The other children turned their attention briefly to Amelia before refocusing on their own plants, their chatter filling the room once more.
“This one’s yours,” Olivia said, pointing to the pot labeled with Amelia’s name. It was nestled between two others, and a small watering can sat nearby. Amelia leaned in close, her nose almost brushing the rim of the pot as she peered into the soil.
Her face scrunched into a faint pout. “It’s still just dirt,” she murmured, disappointment evident in her soft voice.
Olivia knelt beside her, resting her chin on her hand as she examined the pot. “It might look like just dirt now,” she said conspiratorially, “but something magical is happening underneath. The seed is starting to wake up and grow, even if we can’t see it yet. All it needs is care, patience, and a little time.”
Amelia’s pout faltered, replaced by a flicker of wonder. “Really?”
“Really,” Olivia assured her, smiling. “Growing takes time, but it’s worth the wait. Just like how you’re so brave coming to a new school. It’s a little scary, but every day, you’re growing stronger—just like your sunflower will.”
Amelia tilted her head, considering the idea as though turning it over in her mind. Finally, she nodded, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Can I water it now?” she asked, her voice a touch brighter.
“Of course,” Olivia said, reaching for the small watering can. She handed it to Amelia, guiding her little hands as they tipped the spout toward the soil. “Not too much—just a little drink for now.”
Amelia giggled as the water trickled out, darkening the soil. “It’s thirsty,” she declared confidently, her earlier shyness momentarily forgotten.
Olivia grinned. “I think you’re right. You’re a natural gardener, Amelia.”
The girl beamed, a spark of pride lighting her expression. She set the watering can down and gently patted the edge of the pot. “Do you have a sunflower too, Miss Hart?”
The question caught Olivia off guard. Her fingers stilled around the watering can as her mind flitted to the sunflower growing in her backyard—the one she often spoke to while writing in her journal. “Oh, well, I suppose I do,” she said after a beat. “It’s in my garden at home. I planted it last spring, and now it’s so tall that it almost touches the sky.”
“Really?” Amelia’s eyes widened, her excitement contagious.
“Really,” Olivia said with a soft laugh. She reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Amelia’s ear. “Maybe one day, your sunflower will be just as tall.”
Amelia giggled again, the sound bright and unguarded. She skipped off to join the other children, leaving Olivia kneeling by the table with her thoughts. Watching Amelia’s small figure blend into the lively energy of the room, Olivia felt a swell of tenderness. There was a quiet resilience in that little girl, fragile but unmistakable. It reminded Olivia of the seeds they’d planted—small, unassuming things that held incredible potential.
The rest of the morning unfolded in a blur of activity. The children rotated between checking their plants, coloring worksheets, and building elaborate towers in the corner of the room. Olivia moved among them, her hands rarely idle as she offered guidance and encouragement. She paused when Amelia, ribbon in hand, approached her again.
“Miss Hart?” Amelia’s voice was soft but certain this time as she held up a pale yellow ribbon patterned with tiny sunflowers. “Can I tie this on my sunflower pot?”
Olivia crouched down, her smile warm and full of affection. “That’s a beautiful idea, Amelia. It’ll make your pot extra special.”
Amelia grinned, her fingers brushing the ribbon as though testing its texture. Together, they carefully tied it around the pot, the fabric forming a neat bow at the front.
“Now it looks happy,” Amelia declared with a satisfied nod.
Olivia chuckled softly, her chest tightening with a quiet, unnameable ache. “It does. Just like you.”
Amelia tilted her head, her green eyes thoughtful. “Do you think sunflowers can miss their friends?”
The question tugged at Olivia, touching a chord she hadn’t expected. Her fingers lingered on the ribbon as words surfaced slowly. “I think they can,” she said, her voice softer now, tinged with a vulnerability she rarely showed. “But I think they’re also happy when they make new friends, too—just like you.”
Amelia seemed to ponder this, her small brow furrowing before she nodded decisively. “Okay.”
As the other children began tidying up for lunch, Olivia watched Amelia return to her seat, her ribboned pot cradled carefully in her hands. There was resilience in that little girl—a quiet determination to grow, even when it was hard. And though Olivia didn’t know the full story behind Gabriel’s guardedness or Amelia’s moments of melancholy, she felt certain of one thing: she wanted to help them both find their footing in this new chapter of their lives.
After all, even the most delicate seeds could grow into something extraordinary with the right care. And perhaps, just perhaps, Olivia was exactly where she was meant to be—to help nurture not just Amelia, but Gabriel too, in ways she was only beginning to understand.
