They moved to the house. The door was locked, but a window latch was broken. Noah helped Eliza inside, then climbed through himself.
The air smelled of dust and mold, but the structure felt sound.
“It’s dark,” Eliza said.
“The power’s out,” Noah concluded. He forced open a window, letting sunlight flood the room.
In the kitchen, the faucet sputtered uselessly.
“No water either,” he murmured.
Instead of despair, excitement stirred.
“Do you remember where Grandpa’s well was?” he asked.
“Behind the house,” Eliza said.
They found it hidden beneath tall grass—a stone well with a rusted hand pump.
Noah studied it closely. “It needs oil.”
In the barn, he found old cans of machine lubricant. He cleaned and oiled the pump, working the handle again and again.
Then—water burst forth.
Eliza clapped. “You did it!”
Noah smiled—but something felt wrong. The pump hadn’t been truly broken. Parts had been loosened… intentionally.
As night fell, Noah fixed an old generator in the barn, bringing light back to the house. They found canned food, cooked a simple meal, and slept on old mattresses in the living room.
That night, Noah lay awake, listening.
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.
“You know what scares me?” Eliza asked one evening as they walked the perimeter of the fields.
“What?” Noah replied.