Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm

by Rebecca Raisin

  I crunched into a pecan before spreading the bag evenly on the sheet.

  “Now all you do drizzle over a cup of maple syrup, a dash of cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. It’s that easy. Then you bake for ten minutes, and it’s done. I thought we could make some sweets like this for a goodie bag for them all to take home—what do you think?”

  “Great! Then they won’t forget the farm in a hurry.”

  Spinning on her heel, Lil put the sheet in the oven, and then went to her purse again, this time pulling out a writing pad. “Yell out if you don’t like the sound of any of these, but I thought to shine the light on maple syrup we’d make them all, then we’ll have every taste bud accounted for.”

  “OK,” I said, marveling at how considerate Lil was being, after all, she was the caterer not me.

  “So, to go with our savory meat dishes, I thought of maple grilled corn, maple coleslaw, and tomato and watermelon salad with a maple dressing. That way, the boys can be on the grill, and we can handle the other stuff in the kitchen. The salad we can pre-make and just add the dressing on the day…”

  The syrup would be used in such a way, that maple would be the hero of each and every dish. “They sound amazing, Lil.”

  She flashed me a smile. “Wait until you taste them. I’m so glad I’m pregnant, because I am going to claim I’m eating for two, and eat even more than usual!”

  I laughed. The scent of the maple-covered pecans permeated the room, rich and nutty.

  “Now, the best bit—sweets. I have about a squillion ideas, but I think the most popular would have to be maple and apple ice cream. I can ask Sarah to help serve it. We’ve got an ice-cream cart that we can use, and people can just wander on over and choose the type of cone they want…”

  “Perfect, Lil! Please tell me we’re making that to try now?” I gave her a hopeful look.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I had a feeling you might say that!”

  Lil took out the ingredients to make ice cream and went patiently through each step with me.

  ***

  We’d eaten and tidied the kitchen. Missy’s freezer was stocked with the meat dishes we’d made to test the recipes. They were so mouth-wateringly good, I couldn’t wait for the guests to taste them.

  We settled back in the living room and talked quietly. Missy had escaped for a nap while CeeCee crooned to baby Angel, attempting to get her to sleep too. Becca had called it a night, because she had to be up early to open the salon. That just left me, Lil, and CeeCee, until there was a rap at the door.

  Sarah from the bookshop arrived, stumbling inside with a huge bag of books. “Sorry I’m late! Honestly, I spend more time on Skype with him than I do in real life. Our paths don’t seem to cross much anymore.”

  “They don’t?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I guess it’s always been like this, but lately, it’s harder for me. Like I’m waiting, all the time, like we’ve stalled.”

  “Have you told him, sugar plum?” CeeCee asked gently.

  Sarah forced a smile. “No, not yet.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, never mind, I still have my books. So what’s been going on? What did I miss?” She looked to us one by one.

  Lil sagged against the sofa. “Lucy just told us she’s leaving not too long after the festival. She’s off to Paris.”

  “I can’t imagine you not being here no more,” CeeCee said.

  I swallowed back a lump in my throat. “Me either.” Their faces fell, and it was hard not to do the same. I was supposed to be thrilled with the thought of traveling, but instead, I was torn between wanting to stay, and wanting to pursue my art, even if I didn’t get accepted into the institute, I would still be with Adele, who was a brilliant teacher.

  “Well,” Sarah said. “We better make sure we give you the time of your life before you go. We sure are going to miss you.”

  “Right,” Lil said, clearing her throat. “Let’s go through your checklist, and see if we can’t scratch a few more things off.”

  I took my notebook from my bag. “Chairs, tables, crockery,” I said. “Vanessa from the community center said I could borrow theirs for a small hire fee. So I’ve booked them.”

  The girls nodded. “Decorations.” My brow furrowed. “I have so many ideas, but really it all comes down to cost.”

  CeeCee spoke up. “Balloons are cheap an’ easy. Kids love ‘em, too. How ‘bout we buy a bunch in the same kinda colors as the maple leaves? All those reds and oranges?”

  We spoke in hushed tones as the moon rose high in the sky. A feeling of gratitude washed over me, not only for their help with the party, but their friendship too. I hoped no matter where I went, or ended up, they’d keep a part of me in their hearts, always.

  “You know, the town’s gone crazy with wanting to pitch in because of what Clay did for Walt…”

  I inhaled sharply. “How did you know it was Clay who made the furniture?”

  Lil moved around the bench and sat beside me. “Rosaleen, of course. Town gossip, and late night street trawler. She saw him. She sees everything, that woman.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Is she the one who caught sight of us under the maples?” I didn’t add kissing passionately—I was still reeling people knew.

  “Actually, no.” Lil laughed. “That was Jimmy the bus driver. Said he saw you on many occasions, and didn’t know where to look, until CeeCee hollered, ‘Maybe look at the road, Jimmy, like you ‘sposed to!’”

  “It’s true what they say, then. No such thing as a secret in a small town.”

  “If the grapevine’s quiet, someone will go ahead and make some up… It’s not all rainbows and butterflies, but I guess it’d get boring if it was.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Sugaring-Off Festival was only a week away and our nerves high. That day at the farm the afternoon came around quickly, as we’d raced to complete tasks. The hours spun by in a frenzy as we fitted shelves to the cottage, and hooked up lighting. Overnight Clay had sheeted the walls, and flicked a coat of paint over them.

  My time was fast running out, not long until the farm was crowded with people, and not long until I’d fly to Paris. Both made me jittery with nerves. I hadn’t broached the subject of leaving with Clay again, half fearful I’d see nothing in his eyes. I’d rather go thinking he’d miss me, than getting a simple wave goodbye.

  “Done,” he said, placing his drill on the counter. The shelves were up, and ready to be filled with bottles of maple syrup, which would sparkle under the tiny downlights Clay fitted.

  He was extraordinarily gifted when it came to measuring and fitting cabinetry, and anything mechanical, or electric. “So numbers make sense to you?” I asked, as I swept the floor, ridding it of sawdust.

  “I can read a tape measure, if that’s what you mean,” he said absently, as he surveyed the newly fitted shelves.

  “How’d you run a business before, with all the paperwork and stuff?” I was intrigued how he managed it, and hoped he wouldn’t see it as prodding.

  He let out a long breath. “I had a business partner.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, oh. Can you drop it?” He slid me an irritated look.

  “Why?” I put my hands on my hips. “Why can’t I know you better?”

  He shook his head. “I like you, Lucy. You like me. Isn’t that enough?”

  Like?

  “No, it’s not enough.” There were times where I wanted to sit down with Clay and pour my heart out to him. But his resolve to keep the past private only steeled me to do the same.

  He scowled. “What do you want? You’re leaving, right? I don’t hear you saying you’re coming back anytime soon. You want me to give you the grisly details of my life—will that make it easier for you to walk away?”

  “Why do you think I’m always searching for a way to leave? You haven’t asked me to stay, Clay. You haven’t asked a damn thing about me.”

  “Because you’re leaving, Lucy.” His voice dropped. “And the
more I know about you the harder it’ll be to let you go.”

  “Clay…”

  “Do you think I’m with you just for the sake of it?” He cupped my face and stared deeply into my eyes, his gaze penetrating.

  “I don’t know what to think, because we never talk about it.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, thinking of Paris, and the fact he wouldn’t be there. The best part of my day was seeing Clay, the way he gave me a warm smile, and kissed me until I was breathless. Even if I wanted to return when the year was up, I couldn’t. I was going back to care for my mom, and nothing would change that.

  “I’m not one to sprout about how I feel, Lucy, but I thought you understood. I don’t do one-night stands, or short-term relationships. But this happened. And what right have I got to tell you what to do? I know you have to leave, and I know you’ve got ambitions loftier than making maple syrup. I won’t stand in your way.”

  I blinked back tears. “So…it’s goodbye for us, after the festival?”

  “I don’t know what to say, Lucy. But if you stayed, and gave up your dreams, things would be different,” he said. “You’d be bitter about it.”

  I gave him a sad smile. If this was love, wouldn’t we refuse to part?

  “It’s unbelievable the universe would throw us together if it can’t work.”

  “Who knows what might happen. I’m a patient man, Lucy.” Would he wait? I’d be back in Detroit. Could we commute between the two places, or would our feelings dilute as time apart blurred the way we felt into a distant memory? Sarah saw Ridge every few weeks, and they were struggling with that. This would be way harder.

  “Come here.” He led me outside into the sunshine and pulled me to the grass, our legs tangling. He kissed me, his lips soft against mine.

  Hours later, using our clothes balled up as pillows, watching the sun set, he spoke. “You wanna know about my past, here goes… I built up my business from nothing. It was just me and my tool belt, and a few odd jobs here and there.”

  “So you were always exceptional with your hands?” I grinned.

  Hi kissed the top of my head. “Always. Well one summer I met an old friend from the neighborhood. He’d just landed a job as the engineer on a huge industrial building site.” As Clay talked, he stroked the top of my shoulder, sending shivers down the length of me. I turned to face him, and put my hand on his chest, our nakedness feeling totally natural.

  “I worked for him for a while, doing fit-outs of each office. When it comes to work, if I’m stuck reading plans, someone explains them and I can memorize them, all the numbers, all of it.”

  “Who explained them?”

  “My girlfriend, Dahlia.”

  I tried to push the queasy feeling of jealousy away. Even her name was exotic.

  “That company, my old friend, liked the way I worked. I never missed a deadline, and the finishes were always spot on, because I’m a perfectionist, I guess. Eventually they offered me bigger contracts, so the business grew. I employed staff, and got a partner. Someone who could organize all the paperwork, the taxes, all the stuff that makes my head spin. I stayed hands-on, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Life makes sense to me when I can turn a length of wood into something beautiful, something functional.”

  I didn’t interrupt, just watched the expression in his eyes change as he spoke. “We made lots of money, those first few years.” He paused, a flash of anger crossing his face. “Life was good. Dahlia eventually joined the business and worked in the office. We gave her a slice of the pie. We landed the biggest contract we’d ever had. It was huge! I thought we’d taken too much on. We scrambled to find more carpenters, and I spent my nights checking their work to make sure it was up to standard. I was fanatical about it. I wanted it to be right. Dahlia and I became ships in the night. Things changed. I felt distant from her, and I didn’t know how to fix it, or even if I wanted to. The pressure had got to me, and all I could think of was finishing the job, and having a break. It almost killed me: the deadlines, the errors, shipments of wood going missing. It was like a black hole of stress.”

  “That sounds awful,” I said frowning. “I can’t picture you being so caught up with making money.” Here he was a million miles away from luxury. He only ever seemed to want to make enough to get by.

  He faced me. “It was never about the money for me. Sure, I wanted to be comfortable, but at that level, I was drowning. But I didn’t want to let anyone down. I hated it. Dahlia and my business partner, Jerry, knew I was dyslexic. It’s not like I can’t read, but it takes me so much longer to process everything, I lose my way, and it’s frustrating. They handled the finances, the paperwork, and all of the payments, so I looked after the technical aspects, and the staff.”

  My heart sank, guessing what was coming. I stroked Clay’s chest, felt his heartbeat speed up as he recalled his past.

  “Finally, the job was finished. It was all approved by the builder. It was like the weight had been lifted and all I wanted was a break. The money had been transferred for the job. That night, after locking up the office, I went home to find Dahlia gone. All her things, gone. I wasn’t upset; I was mostly relieved. We didn’t have to end it with a messy blame game. The next day, I was up early, and in the office. I’d planned to meet Jerry and get all our contractors paid up. But Jerry never showed. I knew then—and probably the signs were always there, but I was too busy to see—that the money was gone. He and Dahlia had skipped town, taken the money, like something out of a B Grade movie.” He laughed, a hollow sound. “I’d actually signed a bunch of paperwork days before, giving them my share for a pittance, if you can believe that. I hadn’t taken any notice of what they pushed in front of me. Why would I? I always signed whatever they asked.”

  “Oh, my God, Clay. How could they?” Shock made my eyes widen. “Why would they be so cruel? It wasn’t as if they didn’t have their own stake in the business.”

  He shrugged. “All that for the sake of my share… The worst thing was having to dodge the phone calls from the guys who’d spent the better part of three months working on that one job for us. I had no way of paying them. In the end, I sold my apartment, and used the money from that. I sold it for a lot less than it was worth, so they didn’t have to wait any longer than they already had. I was almost thirty, and worked fourteen years as a carpenter, and I lost everything. My business, my house, my reputation, and of course my girlfriend, but it’s not like I mourn that part.”

  “And then you inherited the farm?”

  “Yep. A few months later I got the call from my uncle’s attorney. I’d grappled with leaving, but my name was mud, so I figured I’d come hide out in sleepy old Ashford and forget about the world, and the people who inhabit it. Until this bossy blonde strode up the driveway, and I knew things would change.”

  “Bossy?”

  He laughed. “And nosy.”

  “Oh yeah? You don’t want to know what I thought of you when I first walked in.”

  He guffawed. “Nice drill you have there? If I remember correctly, a euphemism if I’ve ever heard one.”

  I blushed, and covered my mouth to stop the laughter. “I can safely say, it’s one of the best drills I’ve ever had.”

  “Is that so?” He rolled over, pinning a leg each side of me, and leaned on his forearms, gazing into my eyes.

  “Maybe I need another lesson on how to use it?”

  He let out a moan, and bent to kiss me.

  ***

  I think I’d just about exhausted Clay by the time I left the Maple Syrup Farm. He wanted to drive me back to town, but I’d grown to love the walk, especially now the sun followed me a few steps behind. My body twinged at the memory of his touch, and sometimes I wondered how I’d ever be able to function normally again. I was still reeling about Clay’s confession and angry on his behalf. It explained so much about him, and his need to be alone. The way he couldn’t easily trust people anymore.

  The Gingerbread Café was still open, so I poked m
y head inside.

  “Sugar plum,” CeeCee said waving me in. “Well lookie here. Care to tell me why you all flushed like that?”

  “Sunburn,” I deadpanned.

  “Don’t look like sunburn to me.” She waggled a finger at me.

  I laughed and followed her to the silver prep bench, hefting myself up on a stool. “Where’s Lil?”

  “She’s taken off early, with that fine thing o’ hers from across the way.”

  I smiled at the way CeeCee spoke. That fine thing was Lil’s husband, Damon, but she never used his Christian name.

  “You in a bit of a conundrum?” She stared me down, making me blush.

  I folded my arms and leaned on the bench. “How do you always know?”

  She smiled, her brown face crinkling like paper. “Well, you see, you’re all flushed up with love, but right there—” she poked me between the eyes “—you got the tiniest little wrinkle. So spill…”

  I sighed. “Why is life so messy sometimes? I’m meant to be ‘finding’ myself but somehow I’ve managed to find someone else, and I have to leave. I made a promise to my mom. And I want to go, I really do, but I also want to stay. How can I please both parts of me?”

  “You ruled by your head and your heart, cherry blossom. Findin’ yourself is as easy as listenin’ to ‘em both and deciding what’s best. You ain’t the stranger who walked in all that time ago lookin’ like a deer trapped in headlights. I see a beautiful girl, flushed up with love, and confidence. Art school won’t go forever now will it?”

  I mulled it over. Mom wanted me to be happy—it was as simple as that. But I knew she wanted me to further my art, and after being here, and finding Jessup’s journals, being inspired by him, so did I. Mom had complete faith I could make a career out of it. I think her real motivation was she’d know I had something else I loved in my life other than her when things changed.

  “There’s always a solution to every problem, if you look hard enough,” CeeCee said. “And if it’s meant to be, he’ll wait.”

  Would he though? I’d changed so much in the last few months, but so had Clay. Was our relationship, or whatever it was a stepping stone for things to come? Or just a bridge to cross? Only time would tell. “Long distance—it will have to be if he does wait, Cee.”