“I know. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, either. All I can say is that Grandpa loved that bog, and I love it, too. It makes me sick to see it this way. Grandmother just learned that this is her last year to retain water rights to the property, and she made it very clear that the property still belongs to her and that she wants to preserve those water rights. Working the bog is the only way to do that. And I offered to take it on. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No, not at all, Meggie. I think your granddad would be proud of you. I just would hate to see you get hurt. But it sounds like you’re going in with your eyes wide open.” He totaled the amount of her purchase, and she wrote out a check, noting that it wasn’t as much as she’d paid for that business suit at Ann Taylor.
“And Meggie?” said Cal as he handed her two very full bags. “I’d be real glad to help you out in any way I can. You probably didn’t know that I owned my own bog for nearly thirty years. It was your granddad who helped get me started. I had to sell out a couple years back because of my health—that’s when I bought the Feed and Seed here. But I’d be real glad to see Briar Hedge up and running again. Real glad.”
“Thanks, Cal. You can bet that I’ll take you up on that offer. See you later.”
“Good luck, Meggie.”
She stopped at the diner for a bowl of clam chowder, then went over to pick up the photos. They weren’t half bad, and Meg hurried to the hospital, eager to show them to Ashley. It seemed like ages since she’d seen the little girl, when in reality it had been just over twelve hours.
She asked at the information desk and found that Ashley had been moved to pediatrics that morning. Meg quickly found the room and pushed open the door to see Sunny and Erin sitting next to Ashley’s bed, quietly visiting. They both looked up to greet her. Meg smiled and looked over to the bed where Ashley was sleeping.
“And hence comes my prodigal daughter,” said Sunny in what Meg supposed was meant to be a humorous greeting, but somehow it didn’t strike her as such. Meg, deciding to ignore it, pasted a bright smile on her face. Sunny would not be getting the best of her today.
“Hi, Meg,” said Erin, quietly scooting a third chair close to the bed. “Here, come and sit down. Ashley’s having a little nap right now.”
“What in heaven’s name have you been doing?” asked Sunny, frowning at Meg’s muddy jeans and boots.
Meg had forgotten all about her clothes. She turned to Erin. “Maybe I should go change. As you can see, I took you up on your offer to borrow some clothes. I’ve been out at the bog.”
“The bog?” asked Sunny. “Whatever for?”
“I wanted to check it out.”
“You’re just fine, Meg,” reassured Erin. “And don’t worry about the clothes. Ashley asked about you this morning. She’s so much better. Dr. McGregor couldn’t believe it. He said it must be a miracle.”
“Well, we knew that, didn’t we?” Meg looked at Ashley. There was a little color back in her cheeks, and she seemed to be resting comfortably. Meg glanced around the flower-and-balloon-decorated room. “Looks like the carnival’s back in town.”
“I just wanted to brighten up my granddaughter’s room,” said Sunny defensively. “Bring in some color and life.”
“Yes, and Ashley appreciates it.” Erin’s eyes moved from Sunny to Meg as if in warning that she didn’t want to play referee. Suddenly Meg felt ashamed. Why did she act like this around Sunny? It was so childish. The three sat in silence, and Meg felt as if she had spoiled their visit. Maybe she should leave.
Just then, Ashley stirred and opened her eyes. Erin moved closer, fluffing the pillows behind her so she could sit up and see her visitors. Several stuffed animals were perched around her bed, and Ashley looked like a little princess of the animal kingdom.
“Hi, Aunt Meggie,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Hi, Ashley. Are you feeling better?”
Ashley nodded.
“You look beautiful,” said Meg. “I’m sure glad you’re getting well. I brought you some pictures of your great-grandpa’s cranberry bog. It doesn’t really look like much right now, but I thought you might like to see it.”
Meg handed her niece the photos, and Ashley carefully studied each one as Meg told her a little about it.
“May I see them?” asked Erin.
“Sure.” Meg handed her sister the stack that Ashley had already seen.
“These are lovely shots, Meg. Do you think I could get some prints made, too? I’d love to have something to remember the bog by.”
Sunny laughed. “Yes, you better get your pictures while you can, girls, before Cousin Abner plows it all under for condos and an eighteen-hole golf course.”
Meg wondered about telling them her plans to restore the bog. She was eager to tell Erin but had no idea what Sunny’s reaction might be, and she didn’t need anyone to shoot down her ideas right now.
“Where’s all the cranberries, Aunt Meggie?” asked Ashley after she’d laid down the last photo.
Meg laughed. “Sorry, Ashley. It’s the wrong time of year to see the cranberries. Right now there are only the little plants that the berries will grow on.”
Ashley nodded sadly. “Can I see the cranberries when they grow up?”
“I think so, Ashley.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” said Sunny.
Meg turned and looked directly at Sunny. “Grandmother has asked me to help bring the bog back.”
Sunny cocked her head to one side. “She asked you to do what?”
“To bring the bog back,” answered Meg evenly. “As you know, Abner has let it go to ruin, and Grandmother would like it restored.”
Sunny lifted her brows. “Is this the same grandmother who has never given a hill of beans for cranberry bogs?”
Meg smiled a placating smile. “The same one.”
“Meg, she must be losing her mind, then. Abner is always insinuating that she has Alzheimer’s. Do you think it could be possible?”
“She seems perfectly fine to me. By the way, Erin, she said to tell you and Tom how glad she was about Ashley’s recovery. She was really quite worried about her.” Meg gently squeezed Ashley’s hand. “We all were.”
“I hope you’re not taking your grandmother seriously about this cranberry business, Meg,” said Sunny. “It sounds like a formula for disaster. Everyone knows that Abner has his fingers wrapped so tight around that property that it would take a major earthquake to pry him out of there.”
“Well, I’m not taking anything away from anyone. I’m just trying to see that Grandpa’s cranberry bog isn’t lost forever. If it’s not used this year, Grandmother will lose her water rights.”
Sunny nodded. “Ah. I knew that woman wasn’t senile. She’s just smart. Very smart.”
“Why do you need to make such a big deal about it? Maybe Grandmother has finally come to appreciate the land and all that Grandpa did—”
“Maybe.” Sunny laughed. “Now, let’s not talk about this anymore. I think we’re disturbing my granddaughter.”
Meg agreed for Ashley’s sake, but it was a long while later before she was calm again.
FOURTEEN
Ashley was released from the hospital after another day of observation. The doctor said it was a remarkable recovery—something that possibly could be written up in a medical journal. By the weekend, the family was back into their normal routine, and Meg felt that her presence would not be so greatly missed. On Sunday night, she explained to them how much she appreciated their hospitality but that she had decided to live at Briar Hedge in order to be closer to the bog. They all pleaded for her to stay, but Meg promised them that they would still see each other often and that they were all invited to come over and visit at Briar Hedge anytime they wanted.
Grandmother said she was pleased as punch to have Meg move in, and Meg was excited finally to have the freedom to seriously begin the restoration of the bog. As much as she had enjoyed being able to help Erin and her family in their time
of need, she was thankful to be on her own again. She liked her independence. She supposed she was like Grandmother in that sense.
Meg had called Cal Logan and scheduled an appointment for a field consultation. On Monday morning, she was already down at the bog when his old pickup came rumbling down the road. She noticed a shaggy blonde head bobbing up and down beside him.
“Hi there, Meggie,” called Cal. “This is my granddaughter, Clive. She wanted to come along and see your bogs. She’s never quite forgiven me for selling ours.” He poked the pretty teen with his elbow.
“That’s not true, Granddad.” Clive blushed and pushed a lock of bangs off her forehead. “I know you had to sell them after your heart attack and all. I just wished you could have kept them.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Clive,” said Meg. “And I can relate to how you feel. But shouldn’t you be in school today?”
“It’s spring break,” said Cal. “The fact is, I told Clive about your plan to try and bring the bogs back without chemicals. I said you might be needing some manpower—or shall I say person power?”
“You’d be willing to pull weeds?” Meg eyed the slender girl skeptically.
“Sure. I used to help Granddad all the time. He can vouch for me. I practically grew up in the cranberry bogs.”
“She’s one tough cookie, all right. Works like a horse—eats like one, too, I might add.”
“Granddad!”
Meg smiled. “I’d love to have help, but I probably can’t pay much more than minimum wage.”
“That’s more’n I ever got working for him.” Clive poked her grandfather in the middle. “I’ve got gloves and overalls in the truck.” She trotted off to get them, and Cal and Meg began to walk around the edges of the bog.
“It’s bad, Meg,” said Cal. “Does Alexandra plan to put some money into the place?”
“You mean like a lot of money? More than just the average yearly maintenance costs?”
“Yep, I mean like a lot of money.”
“No. She hasn’t indicated that she wants to do that.” Meg bit her lip and tried to push from her mind how concerned Grandmother had seemed just that morning about what the restoration might cost. Meg had tried to reassure her that it would be minimal.
“Well then, you’ve really got your work cut out for you. It seems to me the big goal here will be to preserve water rights by having at least two or three working bogs.”
“Just two or three? What about the rest?”
“I don’t even know if you can manage to restore two or three, Meg. If you had access to any kind of cash, I’d suggest that you tear everything out and start over—maybe even with a different berry. Like a Stevens; they’re getting real popular in these parts. They’re a high-yield berry that can be harvested a whole lot sooner than these McFarlins you got here.”
“But I thought you said McFarlins are good.”
“Sure, they’re good—good for surviving this kind of neglect. And they’re good for some other reasons, too. They have real nice color. And they are frost-resistant. In your case, you should probably keep them. But do you want to know what I’d do if I were you?”
“Of course, other than an extensive use of chemicals.” Meg looked over and saw that Clive was already hard at work on the bog Meg had been weeding. “Thanks for bringing Clive, Cal. She seems like a good kid. How old is she?”
“She just turned sixteen. And she’s not a bit like a lot of other teenagers these days. She’s real mature and sensible for her age.” Cal watched his granddaughter for a moment, then turned and continued talking as they walked. “Okay. For starters, I’d pick out your three best-looking bogs with the fewest weeds.” He pointed toward the center. “See those three in that same terraced line, but on different levels? They don’t look quite as bad as the ones on the perimeter. And by keeping them in the same terrace you can recycle your water by draining it down from the top one to the next.”
Meg nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. But only three?”
“It may be that you can do more than that. But why don’t you start with three and see how it goes.”
“I guess that makes sense.” But she was thinking she might as well go for the whole row of five.
“So you get those three under control, or at least try. In the meantime, you go ahead and irrigate everything, weeds and all. And then, if it was me, I’d put some on a good dose of norflurazon in the middle of winter to knock out some of these weeds.”
“Do you really think it will take chemicals to do that?”
“Depends on how long you want to take in bringing those cranberry plants back. You might just lose them altogether and have to replant anyway, if you let them go much further. Fact is, you don’t have to make that decision now. Just wait until you’ve had your war with the weeds this year. You might be singing a different tune come fall.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
They continued to walk around the bog, Cal talking the whole time about fertilizers and herbicides, when and how much to irrigate, and so many other details that Meg felt certain she’d never remember them all. Finally they returned to his truck, and he opened the door and pulled out several booklets and timetables.
“Here.” He handed her the stack. “I don’t expect you’ll be remembering everything I just told you, although you always were a smart little whippersnapper.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Cal. Do you have a consultant fee? I know I never could have learned all this without you.”
“And just who do you think I learned it all from in the first place? I say it’s like casting your bread upon the waters; in due time it comes back to you.”
Meg smiled. “Well, Grandpa would be glad to know how you’re helping me now.”
“Don’t get discouraged, Meggie. You’ve got a lot going for you here. Everything your granddad did, he did right. He built these bogs just as level as can be. The peat beneath the plants still looks real good, and all your drainage pipes look to be in good order. The only thing you’re not up-to-date on is the frost-detecting equipment, but heck, the old boys got along without that, and I expect you can too this first year. But you’ll have to keep an eye on things once those berries start to blossom. I’ll help see that you do. I don’t know what the harvest equipment is looking like, but seems I remember your cousin sold off a few pieces of the newer machines a year or two back. When the time comes, we’ll figure something out.” Cal climbed into his truck. “Say, do you mind dropping Clive by the Feed and Seed around five?”
“Not at all. Thanks again, Cal.” She watched his old blue pickup rumble away and then went back to join Clive.
The two of them worked quietly all morning. When the sun was high in the sky, Meg stood and looked around. It looked like they’d hardly made a dent on the two-acre bog.
“It’s slow work,” said Clive.
“I’ll say.” Meg tried not to show her disappointment; she didn’t want Clive to think she was unappreciative. “You’re doing a great job, Clive. I’m sure glad you’re available. Do you think you’ll want to work all week?”
“Sure, and I can come on weekends, and maybe even sometimes after school—at least when I don’t have track practice.” She stood up and stretched, looking around. “I love it out here.”
“Me, too. But I think we’d better go get some lunch if we want to survive the afternoon.” Meg pushed the wheelbarrow up the road and dumped her load in the spot they had designated for the weed pile.
“Can you believe how huge that is?” said Clive. “You’d think that whole bog would be clean by now.”
“I know. It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Meg rolled the wheelbarrow to one side and removed her gloves. Her hands, even beneath the gloves, were red and irritated.
“Yeah, it’s hard to believe anyone would let it get this bad.”
By the time they reached the house, Rosa had a lunch of roast beef and all the trimmings laid out, and even though she hadn’t expected Clive
, there was plenty for both of them.
“Mrs. Lancaster said for me to make you a good lunch, Meggie,” said Rosa as she set the mashed potatoes on the table. “It’s so nice to cook for more than just two.”
After lunch, Meg and Clive sat on the porch drinking hot cocoa. A fog had begun to roll in, and Meg decided to take her camera back with them. She thought some shots of Clive working on the mist-covered bog might be interesting.
By late afternoon they had cleared about an eighth of the bog. Or maybe less, thought Meg, as she stood and looked from a higher vantage point. But at least it was enough to tell there was work in progress. She had used half a roll of film on Clive weeding in the white mist. If the photos turned out, she would get some reprints made for Cal, and Clive too, maybe in a nice frame.
Meg heard the sound of an engine to the south. She looked up to see a vehicle coming over the rise in the opposite direction of Grandmother’s house and the main road. She didn’t recognize the dark-colored Suburban, and the tinted glass made it impossible to see who was inside, but she suspected it might be Abner. She had been dreading this moment and was surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. She bent over and continued to weed, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone got out. Finally, she heard the creak of a door opening, and then another. Then they both closed. Bang. Bang. The sound made her jump. She stood and saw Abner and Jason walking toward her, and even from this distance she could see the dark scowl on her cousin’s puffy face.
“Who’s that?” asked Clive, standing and brushing the hair from her eyes. “Hey, isn’t that Jason Lancaster? I’ve seen him at school. Is he related to you?”
“His dad, Abner, is my cousin, but let me warn you, Abner’s not a real nice guy.” Meg spoke quietly, keeping her eyes on Abner as he approached.
“What the devil are you doing out here?” demanded Abner when he and Jason were within shouting distance.
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