Cider Brook

by Unknown

  Grace smiled knowingly. “And you’re not going to tell us what it is, are you?”

  “The word pirate has a way of causing trouble. Do you know if there was a Hazelton named Zeke or Henrietta?”

  The two older women frowned. “I wouldn’t know,” Grace said.

  Justin saw that his grandmother was less committed. “I’m not sure. Let me think. Why do you ask?”

  “There’s a photograph at the country store of a couple identified only as Zeke and Henrietta. They’re standing in front of Justin’s cider mill in 1915.”

  Justin had never looked closely at the cider mill photos at the country store, but now he would.

  Samantha got to her feet and stood at the porch rail. Charlie rolled on his back in the grass and Beaver streaked past him with a softball, followed closely by Heather and then Brandon, griping about how she needed to train her dog. Finally Samantha turned to the two elderly women. “Does the name Farraday mean anything to you?”

  It didn’t, but Justin was intrigued by how engaged the two older women were by Samantha. She placed a hand on the rail. He noticed its shape and found himself thinking things that his grandmother and Grace would have rapped his knuckles for imagining. Yet at one time, the two of them had been where he was now, falling for someone who had surprised the hell out of their families. Evelyn, the daughter of Amherst shopkeepers, had fallen for a hardworking Knights Bridge carpenter who had dreamed of owning a plot of land and starting his own business. Grace, a teenager about to lose the only home she’d ever known in a town being obliterated before her eyes, had fallen for a British flyer on the run.

  “My grandfather put me on to Benjamin Farraday,” Samantha was saying. “I’m not sure how Farraday came to his attention. He’s not a well-known pirate. For a short time I thought Duncan McCaffrey might be interested in him. Now...I’m just looking for answers.”

  Grace nodded. “Do you suppose this hermit could have been Farraday and he hid his loot out here?”

  “My theory has Farraday cooling his heels in the wilderness west of Boston until the heat was off, then using his treasure—or at least part of it—to fund a new ship, which then sank, with him, his crew and whatever cargo they’d stolen.”

  “Those poor men,” Grace said. “I can’t imagine drowning at sea. But if the Hazeltons’ hermit was this Captain Farraday, and he died here as an old man...”

  Samantha sighed. “It could mean he never brought treasure out here, or ever funded a new ship that sank at sea with him and his crew on board.”

  “What kind of man was he?” Grace asked softly.

  “I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces about him, but not nearly enough,” Samantha said. “He was well-educated, handsome and an astute businessman, but also daring and a real rogue.”

  “Pirates,” Evelyn said with a scoff. “A lawless lot.”

  Samantha kept silent. Grace watched her closely. “Did this pirate Farraday have a woman in his life?” she asked.

  “Not that I know of.” Samantha glanced at Justin, and he noticed spots of color on her cheeks before she turned sharply away, smiling at the two older women. “It’s been great chatting with you both. Do you think there are any records of this hermit at the library or historical society?”

  Justin moved closer to his grandmother as she started to her feet. She looked a little unsteady, and he wondered if the talk of the past had unsettled her more than she realized. She said, “I’ve never thought to look. Do you think you’ll stay in town and check the records yourself?”

  Samantha must have noticed his grandmother’s fatigue. “I might,” she said, then smiled. “But right now, my mind’s on all the great smells emanating from the house.”

  Justin put out his hand, and his grandmother took it as she rose. “A word to the wise,” she said, addressing Samantha. “You might think twice about anything Heather’s cooked. My granddaughter has a big heart and I love her to pieces, but cooking isn’t her long suit.”

  Samantha laughed. “Heather and I will get along fine, then. I’m not a fussy eater, and I never did learn to cook.” She turned to Grace and put out her arm. “Shall we?”

  Grace beamed, rising as she took the younger woman’s arm. Justin felt his grandmother squeeze his hand, and she whispered, “I like your Samantha,” as the four of them went inside.

  * * *

  Samantha made herself at home over brunch. There was nothing shy about her, and Justin thought she enjoyed the food—ham, scalloped potatoes, baked beans, a frittata made with veggies from his folks’ garden, an array of salads and desserts. She seemed more at ease than she had yesterday at the wedding and stayed close to him, then pitched in and helped him clear dishes and load the dishwasher.

  With the food put away and the dishes done, the gathering moved outside for a few games of volleyball. Justin and his brothers got the older crowd settled into lawn chairs, with blankets and mugs of hot chocolate.

  Heather took it upon herself to create the teams. “Justin, Dylan, Eric on one team. Brandon, Adam, Christopher on the other team. That’ll even things up. Maggie? You playing?”

  “Only if I have to,” she said, already on a blanket spread out on the grass.

  “I don’t blame you,” Heather said. “Olivia?”

  “I’ll be on Brandon’s team.”

  Dylan grinned at her. “You’re going to lose.”

  “It’s volleyball, Dylan, not hockey,” Olivia said cheerfully, “and we’ve been doing this since we were in kindergarten.”

  “Okay, great,” Heather said. “I’ll be on Olivia’s team. Sam, you’ll be on Justin’s team?”

  Samantha nodded. “Sure. I don’t know how to play volleyball, though.”

  Heather grinned. “Excellent.”

  Justin slung an arm over Samantha’s shoulders. “Ball comes at you, hit it over the net. All there is to it.”

  Heather put their mother on Justin’s team and their uncle on her team. Their father never played. Randy and Louise Frost sat with Randy’s mother, Audrey, in the shade.

  “We need one more for your team, Justin,” Heather said.

  He noticed his young nephews were looking dejected and said, “I want Aidan and Tyler.”

  The boys perked up. “Against Dad?” Aidan asked, obviously thrilled with the idea.

  “Uh-oh,” Brandon said. “We’re in trouble, Heather.”

  They played three matches and barely kept score. Samantha got the hang of the game in no time. It took all Justin had to resist watching her as she jumped, ran and pounded the ball. He concentrated instead on making sure Aidan and Tyler had a good time, got in a few hits and didn’t get run over by the rest of their teammates. As fit as they all were, there was no question Dylan was the experienced professional athlete among them.

  Rain and wind ended the afternoon. Justin was putting equipment away in a small shed behind the house when Olivia found him. “Samantha left all of a sudden. She’s walking down to the cider mill.”

  “Now? Or do you mean she’s planning to?”

  “Now,” Olivia said. “Justin. She needs to come to Carriage Hill and stay with us. It’s crazy for her to stay out at the mill by herself. I don’t care if she is some badass treasure hunter who got herself into a mess with Dylan’s dad. Water over the dam.”

  He shut the shed door. Why had Samantha left without saying anything? “You traipse down there and invite her, then.”

  Olivia crossed her arms on her chest, the wind blowing the ends of her dark hair. “I just might. It’s supposed to rain all night and into tomorrow, you know.”

  Dylan eased in next to his fiancée. “I know Samantha is a Bennett and I’m from Southern California and not used to freezing my ass off in a tent, but I wouldn’t want to be camping out tonight if I had a decent alternative.”

  “All right.” Justin felt slightly less irritated. Maybe one of his brothers had said something asinine to Samantha. Maybe he had. “I’ll go talk to her. If she wants to camp, though, I�
�m not stopping her.”

  “It’s your land,” Olivia said.

  “You want me to play that card?”

  She backed off, and Dylan said, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Justin. Loretta arrived in Boston this morning. She was going to drive out this afternoon, but when I told her about the brunch, she checked into a hotel and said she’ll head out here tomorrow. I think she was looking for an excuse to delay coming out here. She sounded preoccupied.”

  Justin could understand if she’d been digging into the world of Samantha Bennett. “Did she have anything to tell you?”

  Dylan shook his head, and Olivia said, “Certainly nothing that would stop us from inviting Samantha to stay with us tonight.”

  The rain had picked up and fog had rolled in by the time Justin got in his truck and drove down to the mill. He pulled into the driveway, splashing in deep puddles. Samantha had her tent back up, if not as securely as last night. She didn’t come out, which meant he had to get out in the rain and go to her.

  He peered at her through the zipped-up screen. She was sitting up on top of her sleeping bag with her red-covered journal and a pen. “If the rain starts coming in through the screen,” she said, barely looking up at him, “I’ll zip up the outer flaps. I’m nice and cozy in here.”

  “Olivia and Dylan have invited you to stay at Carriage Hill.”

  “That’s nice of them.”

  She still didn’t look up. Justin kept his tone even as he continued, “We’ll all sleep better knowing you’re not out here by yourself.”

  Finally she raised her dark eyes to him. “It didn’t bother you last night.”

  “They didn’t know, and it did bother me.” Despite his borderline annoyance, he grinned at her. “I kept picturing you stretched out here in the cold.”

  “Trust me, reality wasn’t as good as your imagination. Is there reverse bonding? The rescuer with the rescued?” She set aside her journal and pen. “Never mind. Don’t answer. It’s raining, you know. You don’t have an umbrella and you’re not wearing a raincoat. You’re getting wet.”

  “Not the first time. Gather up your stuff. I’ll drive you over there.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “A strong suggestion. An order would just get your back up.”

  “Think I’d cut off my nose to spite my face?”

  He felt the cold rain in his hair, down his neck. “Wasn’t that what staying out here last night was about?”

  “No,” she said, her voice quiet now, a seriousness in her dark eyes that he hadn’t expected. “Today was amazing, Justin. I have bruises from hitting that ball, but it was all such fun. I’m sorry I ran out without saying thank you. But it hit me...” She cleared her throat and seemed to blink back tears. “I don’t belong, Justin. You must see that.”

  “What I saw was a woman having a good time.”

  “I did have a good time.” She sighed. “You know your grandmother and Grace Webster maneuvered me into talking about their hermit, don’t you?”

  “Maneuvered us both. Think he could be your pirate?”

  “I don’t know enough even to guess.”

  “They’d get a kick out of that.” He wanted to unzip her tent and climb in there with her. Maybe she wanted that, too. But she’d come here, alone, for a reason. “I’m heading back to the house to help out with a few things. I’ll stop by on my way home. You can tell me what you want to do. Sit here in the rain or sit by a nice fire at Carriage Hill.”

  * * *

  When he got back to the house, Dylan and Olivia had left to take Grace home. Brandon and Maggie were off feeding the chickens with the boys. Adam and Heather were down at the office with their father and uncle and the dogs. Christopher was on duty at the fire station.

  Eric had the vacuum and broom. Justin grabbed a wet cloth.

  “You left Samantha out at the mill?” his older brother asked.

  “Her call.”

  “Are you getting serious about her, Justin, or are you just having fun while she’s in town?”

  He attacked the dining room table and didn’t answer.

  Eric sighed. “She’s a go-getter and cute as hell, but she’s trouble. I don’t mean bad trouble necessarily. Good trouble, maybe. The sort that stirs up your life.”

  “You saying my life needs stirring up?”

  “I’m saying if you’re going to insist on getting involved with her, at least stay out of her treasure hunts.”

  Justin stood straight and looked at his cop brother. “Too late.”

  Eric groaned with sudden understanding. “Not that damn gold coin you found?”

  “You remember that?”

  “Of course. I was there.”

  “The cop mind even then,” Justin said with a grin. “Who the hell knows, Eric? Maybe that coin is part of Benjamin Farraday’s pirate treasure.”

  “And maybe you’re losing your mind, or at least not thinking with it.” He held out the vacuum and broom. “Which do you prefer?”

  Justin took the broom, but he was thinking about ramming his crowbar into another wall back at his sawmill apartment.

  Twenty-Two

  It was a call from her uncle that convinced Samantha to return to The Farm at Carriage Hill. He and Isaac were winding their way back to Boston, thoroughly enjoying themselves in part, her uncle admitted, because they avoided topics of serious disagreement, which were many.

  “There’s a flood watch up where you are,” Caleb said. “What will you do if Cider Brook overflows into your tent?”

  “I’m on high ground. It’s the wind I’m worried about right now. I think it’s about to blow down my tent.”

  “One word—hypothermia.”

  “That would be bad.” She noticed her tent roof drooping dangerously but said calmly to her uncle, “I played volleyball with the Sloans and their friends this afternoon.”

  “I haven’t played volleyball since high school. It’s a fun game.” Caleb seemed to be somewhat uncertain about what to say. “You aren’t what they’re used to and you feel out of place. So? Does that mean you can’t accept the offer of a warm bed?”

  “Uncle Caleb...” She thought of Justin peering at her through the tent screen, and of how much she’d wanted to invite him in.

  “These people are getting to you, Sam. I understand. But you can’t drown, freeze and eat dried-up energy bars because you like them and don’t want to inflict yourself on them.”

  “You make it sound like I’m exposing them to a disease.”

  “That’s what you’re making it sound like.”

  “I just don’t want to get in too deep and hurt them—or myself.”

  She heard Isaac in the background. “It’s this volunteer firefighter, isn’t it?”

  Caleb swore under his breath, and Samantha quickly changed the subject and told him about the hermit. “What do you think? Could he be my Captain Farraday?”

  “It’s not much to go on, but you’re going to pick at this thread, aren’t you? Good. It shows these people aren’t so much under your skin that you’re willing to tuck tail and run when there’s still work to be done. You’ll need a good night’s sleep. Go to the damn inn.”

  And that was that. When Justin returned, Samantha had her tent down, it and her sleeping bag more or less rolled up and her backpack loaded. Rain was dripping off her poncho and hood, and she was shivering with the cold. “I’m going to get your truck wet,” she said.

  He eyed her. “Yes, you will.”

  He said little on the way to Carriage Hill. She suspected he meant to drop her off and leave without going inside, but Olivia was out with Buster during a lull in the rain and insisted he come in. “I’ve made soup,” she said. “I figure we’re all stuffed after this weekend. Come on, Justin. You know you have nothing but beer at home.”

  “We drank all the beer.”

  “Then, no arguing.”

  He looked at Samantha with a half smile. “Olivia used to tremble before me.”

&nbs
p; Olivia snorted and ran to the house with Buster as the rain picked up again. Samantha laughed and climbed out of the truck, not sure what Justin would do, but he turned off the engine and met her on the stone walk. The cold rain and wind didn’t seem to have any effect on him.

  Inside, the kitchen was toasty warm. Dylan had bowls stacked on the butcher-block island. Samantha followed a soaked Buster into the mudroom. He shook off, and she hung her dripping poncho on the hook next to his leash, then slipped off her wet socks and shoes. Her lower pant legs were also wet, but otherwise she had fared okay in the rain. Contrary to Uncle Caleb’s insidious worries, she would not have suffered hypothermia if she had stayed out at the cider mill—although her tent might have caved in on her.

  She returned to the kitchen. Justin was leaning back against the counter by the sink, talking with Dylan. She ducked into the living room, where Olivia was curled up with Buster on the floor in front of a roaring fire. “There have been so many changes in Knights Bridge since Dylan’s father came here,” she said, stroking the big dog’s back. “I know you were only here for the day two years ago, but can you notice any difference?”

  “The new construction up the road,” Samantha said with a smile. She sat on the couch, welcoming the heat of the fire even as she wondered if she’d done the right thing in getting back into Justin’s truck with him.

  Olivia laughed. “That is hard to miss.”

  “I didn’t get this far down the road. This place was for sale then, wasn’t it?”

  “Not quite, but the couple who owned it had moved out by then. They did a great job renovating—well, the Sloans did the work. They’re sought after far and wide for their skill with antique properties. Justin especially.”

  Samantha had no doubt. “My grandfather’s house in Boston could use their expertise. It has a number of original features, but the plumbing, wiring, heat and everything else needs overhauling.”

  “You’re keeping the house in the family?” Olivia asked.

  “My father and uncle are figuring that out. I’m working on sorting through my grandfather’s archives in London and Boston—which is a lofty word for most of it. Turns out he was quite the pack rat.”