“Hi, Meg,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Better,” said Meg. “What’s up?”
“Siggie just called and wondered if we could meet him at Sunny’s apartment tonight. He wants to talk to us about some gallery business and give us the stuff that he told us about. You know, the things that Sunny put together for us. Can you meet there at seven?”
“Sure.”
“Are you out in the bog right now?” asked Erin.
“Yep. And it looks pretty hopeless.”
“That’s too bad. But don’t give up, Meg. I’d come over, but Ashley has a bit of a cold, and I’m still a little cautious about her health. Maybe if she gets better, I can leave her with Rosa tomorrow and come help.”
“Don’t worry about it, Erin. I’m thinking about hiring some regular workers.”
“Can Grandmother afford that?”
“I’d pay for it myself.”
“You shouldn’t do that, Meg. You never know what’s going to happen to that land. How would you feel if you put a bunch of your own money in it and then Abner turned it into a golf course?”
“I know. But it’s so frustrating.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Meg. Tom and I were talking, and we think that any work you put into that place has got to be with the understanding that it might be for nothing—just a labor of love for the land.”
“I know, and that’s how I started this whole thing. But the more I work on it, the more bound I feel to protect and save it. Sometimes I think I should pack up and go back to San Francisco.”
“Don’t say that, Meg.”
“I haven’t made up my mind about anything. I just don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Well, here’s some good news,” said Erin. “Tom is going to work on Grandmother’s porches today.”
“At least that’s encouraging.”
“Don’t work too hard, Meg.”
“I won’t. See you at seven, then.”
Meg continued working past noon. She decided to skip lunch and try to quit by the middle of the afternoon. She had brought up a bottle of water and a granola bar, and that would have to sustain her.
The weather was clear and dry again, and Meg thought it might be a good day to burn the weeds. She gathered all the piles and heaped them into one large mound, throwing some dry brush and pieces of wood debris on top. She then struck a match to the driest part of the pile and watched with pleasure as it slowly began to burn. There was something very primal and satisfying about a good burn pile. The flames leaped up and gradually grew hotter. Meg picked up a stick and poked at the fire, lifting up the smoldering areas to let the air flow underneath.
Soon she heard a vehicle roar up the road and looked up to see Abner’s dark Suburban pull to a stop. He leaped out and began charging down the bog toward her. When she saw the expression on his face, she was glad he didn’t have a weapon in his hand, or she might have been terrified. As it was, she felt more than a little concerned.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he thundered, his blotchy red face twisted in anger.
“Burning the weeds and brush.” She tried to answer evenly without showing her fear. She had learned long ago, in the world of advertising, how to conceal emotion and in turn get the upper hand with your adversary.
“I saw smoke and thought you were burning the whole place down.” His face was close to hers now, and she could smell alcohol on his breath. “I thought I told you to stay out of here!”
“You know, Abner, I don’t really care what you told me. Grandmother owns this property, and she—”
He cut her off, sticking a stubby finger in her face. “Don’t you go telling me about Grandmother. Everyone knows she’s batty. And for that matter, so are you.”
She took a few steps back, placing the fire between them. She derived some security from the fact that she still held the smoldering stick in her hand. But she was angry now, and ready to give him a good-sized chunk of her mind.
“Well, Abner,” she said calmly, “you may be right about me. I just might be crazy to be up here fighting a battle with these stinking weeds that you’ve allowed to take over what was once a thriving cranberry bog. But you have absolutely no right to say that about Grandmother. In fact, she’s doing better than ever right now. She’s getting out of bed every day, and she’s even planning to go into town and get her hair done this week.”
Abner’s brow furrowed deeper, and it was plain to see that this wasn’t good news to him. His hands curled into fists as he seethed. But Meg didn’t care. Maybe it was time to have it out. If she could give him a display of strength, perhaps he would back down once and for all.
“And,” she continued, “I don’t know what you have in your thick head about this place, but it’s about time you realized that you are not the only person in this family. Erin and I both care a great deal about these cranberry bogs. Our grandpa poured his whole life into this place, and we think it’s a heritage that’s well worth preserving. I don’t understand why you’re so bent on destroying that. You’ve let these bogs go nearly to the point of no return, but I am not going to give up.” She jabbed the smoking stick into the air as if to drive her point home.
He stared at her for a long, silent moment, and Meg thought he looked as if he’d like to punch her. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
“I was right!” he sputtered. “You are crazy. And the sooner something is done about it, the better.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his vehicle. Just as he took off down the hill, another rig pulled up. Meg thought it looked like Matthew’s Blazer and sighed in relief. But what was he doing out here?
“Hi, Meg,” called Matthew as he walked over. He wore jeans and a light blue denim shirt, not his normal work clothes. “I stopped by the house, and Rosa said you were down here. She was a little worried since you didn’t come back for lunch.” He stopped and looked at her. “Hey, are you okay? Your face is white. Maybe you should sit down.” He took the stick from her hand and laid it by the fire, then led her over to a fallen log and gently pushed her down. He sat beside her.
“So what’s up, Meg? That looked like Abner’s rig that just disappeared over the hill. Is something wrong?”
She nodded. “He thinks Grandmother and I are both crazy.”
Matthew chuckled. “I hope you didn’t take him seriously.”
“No, not really. But I do wonder about my mental state sometimes.” She paused, then turned and looked at him. “Do you realize that just a few weeks ago, I had a top position in one of the biggest advertising firms in San Francisco? Actually, I still do; I’ve just taken a leave of absence.” She wondered why she was telling him all this; then she couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about to start with.
“I see,” he said slowly. But his eyes said that he didn’t really understand.
“Now I’m spending all my time up here pulling these weeds. Does that make any sense at all?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you want to be doing.”
She nodded. “Maybe that’s the crazy part.”
“How’s that?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea.” But even as she said the words, she wondered if they were true. With each passing day she seemed to feel more and more at home.
“Meg, you’re being too hard on yourself. I don’t know where you’ll be a month from now, but I think for the time being you are right where you should be. And you are not crazy. Sometimes we need seasons like these in our lives. We need to give ourselves time to take stock and realign our lives with what’s really important.”
“How did you get to be so wise?” she asked, staring at him curiously.
He grinned. “It wasn’t easy. I did come up here to lend a hand with these weeds, but my great wisdom suggests that you may be more in need of food than free labor. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll take you into town for a bowl of chowder or something. Come to th
ink of it, I had a pretty skimpy lunch myself. What do you say?”
“Sounds good. But what about my burn pile?”
“It looks like it will be out soon. Maybe we can hurry it along a little.”
Matthew poked the fire, igniting new pockets and sending orange flames licking up into the air. “I always liked a good burn pile,” he said. “I think the smell of a bonfire in the fall is about one of the best smells there is.”
“I know what you mean,” she said with a smile. “But that’s nothing compared to the smell of a really good cranberry harvest.”
“You’re right about that. Do you think Briar Hedge will get that far?”
“Not if Abner has his way. Matthew, can I ask you a legal question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Well, Abner seems pretty determined to try to stop my restoring the bogs. I’m afraid he might try to get Grandmother’s power of attorney, or something like that. He keeps saying she’s crazy. Could he really do that?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it could never happen. Almost anything can happen in our legal system. I don’t think it’s likely, but I’ve seen stranger things.”
“Do lawyers tend to hear what’s going on around town? If you heard that Abner was trying to do something like that with another attorney, would you be able to tell me? Ethically, that is.”
“Sure, I would.”
Meg smiled. “Thanks. That makes me feel a little better. The way he carries on sometimes, I just don’t know what he might do.”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“Probably not, although I think he might have a drinking problem. Even your dad said he thought Abner’s bark was a lot worse than his bite. But he’s so full of anger and bitterness; it’s scary.”
“Really makes you want to stay away from those things, doesn’t it? And you know, it probably stems from some deep-rooted unforgiveness.”
Meg nodded slowly. “Do you think I could have become like that?”
“I think anyone could, at least to a certain degree.”
“I think you’re right. I was probably heading there myself before God opened my eyes. I don’t remember ever giving the idea of unforgiveness much thought, but now that I look back, I’m starting to see how crippled it was making me.”
“I know what you mean,” said Matthew. “Some of my hardest lessons about forgiveness have come from when I had to forgive myself.”
Meg nodded. She still struggled with that one. It was easier to forgive Sunny than to let herself off the hook.
Before long, the fire had burned to the ground, and Matthew found a shovel and buried the cinders with dirt until the smoke was gone and the dirt cold.
“Do you mind if I run into the house for a couple of minutes to wash up before we go into town?” asked Meg as they drove down the road.
“Not at all. I’d like to say hello to your grandmother.” When Matthew pulled up in front of the house, Meg noticed Tom’s truck was parked along the side, and the sound of hammering was coming from the back porch.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lancaster,” said Matthew.
“Well, hello, Matthew Logan,” said Grandmother brightly from the front porch. “Hello, Meggie. We missed you at lunch.”
“Sorry, Grandmother. You know how it is up there. Those bogs grab hold of you, and you just can’t get away.”
Grandmother laughed. “Just like your grandpa.”
Meg went into the house and dashed upstairs. She scrubbed her hands with a fingernail brush, but the stains from weeding were becoming more stubborn each day, even with wearing gloves. She brushed her hair and applied a little lip color and some blush, then changed into a fresh shirt. She tucked it into her jeans and tightened her belt. She could tell that she had lost a few pounds in the last two weeks, and she really didn’t need to take off any weight. Matthew was probably right; she did need to eat.
“I’m ready,” she announced as she came out the screen door. “Was that quick enough?”
“Too quick,” complained Grandmother. “Now you’re stealing this handsome fellow away from me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come back to visit again,” Matthew assured Grandmother with a pat on her shawl-covered shoulder. He opened the car door for Meg, and she waved good-bye to Grandmother.
“She’s quite a gal,” said Matthew as he started the engine. “Still has that same sharp wit. I think Abner will have a tough time proving she’s crazy.”
“I hope so, but it’s troubling just the same.”
“We’ll just have to keep an eye on him, maybe even take some preemptive action.”
“Are there some legal steps that can be taken to keep him in line?” asked Meg hopefully. Having Abner out of her hair would certainly make life simpler.
“There might be. I’ll have to talk to your grandmother about that.”
They decided to have chowder at Jake’s Diner. When they walked in, they spotted Cal sitting at a table, about to plunge a fork into a huge piece of coconut cream pie.
“Hi, Pop,” said Matthew.
Cal looked up in surprise. “Well, you caught me, Matthew. Now, just don’t tell Abby. She’ll tan my hide.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, Pop.”
Cal looked up at Meg and then back at Matthew. “Hi there, Meggie. Why don’t you come sit down here and join me,” he said, scooting over to make room.
Matthew looked at Meg as if to ask if she minded.
“I’d love to join you, Cal,” said Meg. She slid into the booth across from him.
Matthew grinned and sat next to her.
Cal’s eyebrows went up just ever so slightly, but enough to catch Meg’s attention, and she quickly launched into a conversation.
“You’re just the man I wanted to see, Cal. I was out at the bog today, and I think I’m going to need some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Some good advice to start with. The progress on the bog is going too slowly. I think I’ll need to get a crew up there, and maybe I’ll have to use some chemicals.” Meg paused as the waitress took their orders, then turned back to Cal. “I don’t want anything too hard on the environment, but I’m afraid it’s getting to the point of picking the lesser of two evils—either compromise my stand against chemicals or lose the bog entirely.”
Cal grinned. “Sounds to me like you’re turning into a pretty sharp farmer. I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out. Now don’t get me wrong, Meggie. Between you and me, I think the idea of steering away from chemicals is good. Just don’t let that get around town, or I might be out of business. But sometimes you have to take stronger measures at the start, then let up later. There’s no reason why, over a period of time, you couldn’t have a completely organic cranberry bog. I’ve even found a couple of booklets on it for you. But all those high-and-mighty earth-friendly ideals won’t do you a bit of good if you lose the bog in the meantime.”
“Sounds like wise advice to me,” said Matthew.
“Does wisdom run in your family?” asked Meg wryly.
Cal looked at her curiously, then continued. “The only problem, Meggie, is that this kind of plan will take some cash, and I thought you said Alexandra wasn’t wanting to put money into the place.”
“Right.” Meg paused for a moment and thought what she was about to say was probably crazy, but she was going to do it anyway. “I want to invest some of my own funds.”
“Are you sure, Meg?” asked Matthew. “You’re using the word invest, but you have no guarantee that you’ll ever see any return.”
“I know. I guess invest is the wrong word.”
“Maybe you should give this some more thought,” suggested Cal.
“But how much longer can the bog wait?” asked Meg.
“Not long.” Cal pressed his lips together as if deep in thought. “I think you need to get some kind of an agreement with your grandmother on this.” He turned to Matthew. “Isn’t there some legal thing you c
ould draw up for them, to protect Meggie’s investment if she decides to go this route?”
“Maybe.” Matthew thought for a moment. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“I don’t really want Grandmother to sign some legal paper,” said Meg. “I just want to preserve the bog.”
Cal reached across the table and patted her hand. “We know you do, Meggie. Maybe you need to have a little help, though.”
Matthew’s and Meg’s chowder came, and they continued to discuss the various possibilities as they ate. Cal told her he’d begin to work up an estimate for what it would cost to get the bog off to a good start, and would come over to take inventory of whatever equipment she had left.
“I haven’t even gone into the barn to see what’s there,” said Meg, almost apologetically.
“Well, it won’t take me long to get it all figured out, Meggie. I know that rascal cousin of yours has probably sold off a few of the good pieces. Hopefully you’ve still got something to work with. I’d hate to see you have to start all over with buying harvest equipment. But then again, since you’ve got McFarlin berries and they come on late, we might be able to work out an arrangement with someone who does an early harvest and would be willing to rent you a beater.”
They talked for another good hour, and when Matthew and Meg finally left, she felt encouraged. What had, just hours earlier, seemed like a hopeless and crazy endeavor was starting to look possible.
She thanked Matthew when he dropped her at the house. It seemed she was always thanking him these days. She wondered if she would ever be able to do something nice for him, instead of continually being on the taking end of things.
TWENTY TWO
Meg arranged to pick up Erin that evening before they met with Sigfried. While she waited for her sister to finish getting ready, she spent a few minutes visiting with her two older nieces in the kitchen, then slipped up to Ashley’s room where the little girl was being tucked in by her daddy.
“Hi there,” said Meg from the doorway.
“Aunt Meggie!” called Ashley from her bed, chubby arms outstretched.
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