Something wasn’t right about this place. Tools weren’t as old as they should’ve been. Tracks in the dirt looked recent.
In the morning, he explored while Eliza slept. He found fruit trees still bearing produce, fertile soil waiting to be planted.
Then—
A car approached.
Noah’s heart raced.
But instead of Helena, a short gray-haired woman stepped out, carrying a basket.
“You must be the Crowe children,” she said gently. “I’m Martha Hale. I live next door.”
She brought food. Warmth. Concern.
And for the first time since being abandoned, Noah realized—
They weren’t as alone as Helena had intended.
They never presented themselves as saviors or miracle workers. Instead, Noah Reed and his younger sister Eliza Reed insisted they were simply problem-solvers who refused to look away when something was broken.
As the movement grew, so did the pressure.
Newspapers began calling Noah “The Farm Prodigy” and Eliza “The Girl Who Rewrote Agriculture.” Headlines exaggerated their ages, their abilities, and sometimes even their intentions. Noah disliked the attention. Eliza pretended not to care—but secretly worried about what expectations could do to people.