Gaz was working in one of their fields, preparing the soil for the strawberry seeds that they would buy at the Flower Dance, when suddenly they saw their husband, Harvey, walking towards them, carrying their youngest son in his arms, their young daughter running beside him.

“Hi.” Harvey greeted them, his voice soft and as sweet as honey.

“They wanted to come see what Momma was doing.” He apologizes with a soft, sheepish laugh.