Seeds of Deception

by Sheila Connolly

  Seth ignored her comment. “There are a couple windows overlooking the lot—maybe someone noticed when something hit the car.”

  “Seth? It’s regrettable, but it’s not our problem. Can we go now?”

  Seth seemed to come back to the present situation. “Oh, sorry. Of course.”

  As Meg climbed into the car she saw her mother and father still looking at the damaged car, and her father was shaking his head, and looking up at the hotel much as Seth had.

  4

  Sunday morning Meg awoke before the sun was up and started running mentally through lists—and realized there really was nothing essential left to do. It had simply become a habit. There were clean clothes in suitcases; credit cards were sorted; the car was tuned up; the weather was cooperating (as if she could control the weather!). They could leave any time after they’d eaten breakfast, and after assuring Lolly and Max that, yes, they would be back, after some unimaginable length of cat or dog time.

  Meg turned to Seth to see him watching her. He smiled. She smiled. Then she asked, “Do you think Mother and Daddy will be all right?”

  “Without us to hold their hands? I think so, Meg. They’re adults, and they’ve survived this long without our help—well, maybe with one exception—and they’re not exactly decrepit. Why on earth are you worrying about them at this moment?”

  “Because I can’t find anything else to worry about? I know. That sounds completely ridiculous. And you and I are going to go see interesting things and play. Maybe it’s all my Puritan ancestors insisting that enjoying oneself was immoral.”

  “And that’s why you’re torturing yourself? You’re right; that is ridiculous.”

  “Yes, and I know it. It’ll pass, I’m sure. Let’s go make coffee.”

  They were finishing up breakfast, and the sun had finally risen over the horizon, when Bree stumbled into the kitchen. “You haven’t left yet?”

  “Almost ready,” Meg replied. “We were fortifying ourselves for the journey. I’ve left you a list of things that need to be done . . .”

  Bree filled a mug with coffee and dropped into a chair. “Meg, I am neither an idiot nor a child. I think I can keep the place going for a week or two. Please, feel free to take two weeks. Have fun. See the sights. The orchard will still be here when you get back.”

  “I know. I guess I’m just keyed up. Seth, are you ready?”

  “I am. Is your suitcase closed?”

  “No. Let me check it one last time, and then I can put it in the car.”

  “Go!”

  Packing really and truly finished, Meg checked to be sure she had her tablet and her maps in her roomy bag, and took one final look around the bedroom. Everything looked fine. Why did she feel as though she was setting off on an expedition to the North Pole? Heck, they were headed toward warmer weather, and they were going to see things she’d been hoping to see for half her life. Time to hit the road.

  Downstairs, Seth was waiting for her in the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Ready?”

  “I hope so. We’re aiming to get to Mystic before lunch, right?”

  “Yes. Do not decide you need to pack a complete lunch in case we get hopelessly lost in the wilderness that is Connecticut. You do have your cell phone, right?”

  “Yes, and the charger. And the backup charger.”

  “You have enough warm clothes, in case the next ice age arrives fast?”

  “I do. Jackets of three different down ratings in the backseat.”

  “Then may we please get going?”

  As if on cue, Bree came down the back stairs. “What he said. Go! Now!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Meg said meekly and followed Seth out the door.

  Once they were settled in the car, luggage safely stowed, Seth pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the back route that led to the turnpike. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “About what? Marrying you? Driving halfway down the East Coast?”

  “Take your pick. You’re acting kind of weird.”

  “I’m excited. And maybe nervous, I guess. I remember taking road trips with my father when I was about ten or twelve. He was always an impatient driver. He would lecture the other drivers on the road, not that they could hear him, telling them what they were doing wrong, and then he’d whip around them, which half the time scared the other people to death. He had some weird theory about efficient gas consumption.”

  “No accidents?”

  “No. He was either careful or lucky. Or both. Anyway, my mother would make soothing noises, but that was about all. I sat in the backseat and kept my mouth shut and tried to pretend I didn’t know either one of them.”

  “Your mother never drove?”

  “Nope. No doubt Daddy would have lectured her on what she was doing wrong, and that would have been even worse.”

  “May I point out that I am not your father, Meg?”

  “So I’ve noticed. Two hours to Mystic?”

  “About that. You’ve got the map.”

  “So I do.” And a sheaf of printed directions, which gave the details for local roads once they got off the main highways. She carefully unfolded and refolded the appropriate map so she could follow their progress. “I told you, I love maps. I like to follow where we’ve been, and what distance we’ve covered. A GPS is not the same, and that voice keeps yelling at me that I’ve done something wrong and it has to recalculate. I don’t like to be judged by my electronics.”

  “Seriously?” Seth said.

  “Yes. Anyway, do you know where you’re going? Or should I prompt you?”

  “Only in time to get off at the right exit.”

  “Do we know where we’re staying tonight?”

  “I made a reservation. Should I have consulted you first?”

  “Not necessary. I trust your judgment. What are we going to see?”

  “Ships?”

  “I think I could have figured that out myself. It’s probably called a seaport for a reason. More than one ship?”

  “So I’m told. Quite a few, actually.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A re-created nineteenth-century village, but with more sea-oriented shops than Sturbridge. You want more?”

  “No, that sounds good. I like stepping back in time, and I like boats.”

  “Do you know much about boats?”

  “Not big ones. More about the smaller ones—we used to take sailing lessons when we went on vacation at the Jersey Shore. And my father likes fishing, as you know. He took me out a time or two, but it really wasn’t my thing.”

  “Was it the worms?”

  “No, it was getting the poor wriggling fish off the hook.” She shivered at the memory. “And I don’t hunt, either, but neither does my father.”

  “But you like the ocean?” Seth asked.

  “Yes, I do, although I have to watch out for sunburn. But I like swimming, not sitting on the beach pretending to read and getting sand in my hair. You have seen an ocean, right?” she ended dubiously. One more thing she had never asked.

  “Of course, but not often. One year my father had a little extra cash, so he took the family on a weekend trip to Cape Cod. We stayed in the cheapest motel he could find and he still grumbled about the cost. And I also went to the Cape in college with some of my friends, when I wasn’t working for Dad. Although my memories of that trip are rather fuzzy—I believe there was a certain amount of drinking involved.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on your consumption on this trip. So you really are a novice at vacationing?”

  “Looks like it.”

  Meg laughed. “What a pair we are! We have no clue how to relax. Oh, and since we’re both self-employed and small business owners, if we look at apples and old buildings, does that mean this trip will be tax deductible?”

  “I
won’t say no. You’re the financial genius—you tell me.”

  “I’ll make a mental note of it, to consider come April. So we’d better pay attention and take lots of pictures to show what we did in case the IRS wants proof.”

  The first—and shortest—leg of the trip passed quickly. The highways were all but empty on a Sunday afternoon in winter. They had no trouble locating Seaport, and the grounds weren’t crowded, either. Seth hadn’t been kidding about the ships, which ranged from whalers to tugboats to schooners to lobster boats and more. Many were in working order, although there wasn’t time to take a quick sail. Meg made another mental note to think about that for a later date, maybe in the summer, now that she knew how easy it was to get to the place. Seth looked like a little boy, almost drooling over the wooden timbers in the earlier ships and how all the structural pieces were fitted together, running his hands along planes and over joints when he could. Meg hoped he wouldn’t decide to start building a boat out in the barn.

  They stopped for a quick bite to eat, then strolled companionably through the re-created village. Meg was fascinated by the ropewalk. “I never thought about what went into making rope, but they must have needed a lot of it, right?”

  “You saw the ships,” Seth reminded her. “All that rigging?”

  “Yes, of course. But what I don’t understand is why rope stays twisted at all. Why doesn’t it come apart?”

  “Think of it as very large yarn. You know how to knit, right?”

  “I can do it, but badly. You’re saying knitting yarn and rope are the same structure, but on a different scale?”

  “More or less. You take your fibers, which once were hemp but later manila because it was more durable, and you twist them together to make yarn. Then you take multiple lengths of yarn and twist them together to make a strand. And then you take three strands and twist them together in the opposite direction, which creates a tension that holds the rope together—the bits are trying to unwind but in different directions. This ropewalk is only a part of the original, which could have been a thousand feet long, because the rope makers had to do their twisting in a straight line to make it work.”

  “Wow! And why is it you know all this, Seth?”

  “I like to know how things work, and this was basically a simple process, just large. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “It is. And thanks for the explanation. I’ll never look at rope—well, natural fiber rope—in the same way again.”

  Arm in arm they strolled past the other structures. They knew they had limited time before the place closed, but neither of them felt compelled to see everything, for which Meg was grateful. She had never enjoyed manic sightseeing, and was glad that Seth didn’t seem to, either.

  As four o’clock neared, Meg was beginning to feel chilled, as the wind blew in from the water. Seth was quick to notice. “Seen enough?”

  “I think so. I’d like to come back someday, now that I know how close it is.”

  “That could be arranged. Let’s head for the hotel.”

  Settled in the car, Meg turned up the heat. Seth seemed to know where he was going, so she didn’t volunteer any directions. It took him only a few minutes to pull into the parking lot behind a handsome hotel near the center of town. “This is where we’re staying?”

  “I’ve booked a room. Unless you hate it on sight?”

  “Not at all—I think it’s lovely.”

  The inside proved as charming as the outside; their room had sweeping views of the river—and a fireplace for warmth. Once they’d dropped their luggage, Meg was drawn to the windows: the sun was sinking, and the river looked like polished pewter. Seth came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

  Meg smiled to herself. “Which part? The room? The view?”

  “Being here with you. Do you realize, this is the first time we’ve spent a night together in a place that wasn’t home?”

  “It feels kind of illicit, doesn’t it?” Meg said.

  “Kind of. Even though we’re completely legal, not that it matters much these days.”

  “It matters to me.” Meg pivoted in his arms so that she faced him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For existing. For being unflappable under pressure. For knowing what I need even when I don’t. For loving me.”

  “The last one’s the easiest part.”

  Their kiss started slowly but then picked up steam, and when they pulled apart after some unknowable interval, Meg said, “I should call my parents.”

  Seth looked at her incredulously, then burst out laughing. “That’s what you’re thinking about at a moment like this? I am mortally offended.”

  “Don’t be. I thought I’d call them so they don’t interrupt us later, when we might be, uh, busy.”

  “Well, in that case, call them and be done with it. Then we can go searching for food and drink, before we get too busy.”

  “I’ll do that.” Reluctantly Meg peeled herself away from Seth and went to retrieve her phone from her bag. She hit the speed dial for her mother’s number.

  Elizabeth answered quickly. “Meg? Everything all right?”

  “Everything is just fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Because you’re calling me on your honeymoon, darling. Don’t you have better things to do than talk to your mother? I did give you the birds-and-the-bees lecture a while ago, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did. I just wanted to make sure you got the car business worked out.”

  “More or less. As you might guess, it was hard to find a shop that was open on Sunday, and when we did, with the help of the hotel, it didn’t have all the parts in stock, so they have to order them, which they can’t do until tomorrow morning. We’re still in Massachusetts, but I think we’re going to rent a car tomorrow, if the parts don’t arrive, and drive home and let them find a way to ship the car to us. But don’t worry about us. You and Seth have a lovely time. You’ll call us later in the week if it looks like you’ll be stopping in New Jersey? Not that you have to, if something better turns up.”

  Meg could all but hear her father fuming at the delay, and her mother trying to smooth things over. “We’ll play it by ear, but we’re still planning on seeing you. Say hi to Daddy for me. We’re off to find something to eat.”

  After turning off her phone, Meg turned back to Seth. “Now, where were we?”

  5

  When Meg woke up the next morning—well past dawn, for a change—she stretched like a cat and smiled. So this was what a vacation was like; it was hard to remember the feeling. Extending one hand, she added, this is what a husband feels like. She giggled. She’d been doing a lot of giggling over the last couple of days. Very immature of her, no doubt, but it felt good.

  Day three of married life. The wide-open road ahead of them. But a hotel breakfast first. Then get out the maps and plot their next move. Luckily they were taking major highways for much of the trip, so there wasn’t a lot of decision-making required. This was Monday, right? No way they could make it to Monticello in one day, or more accurately, only if they wanted to spend the entire day driving. That didn’t sound like fun, even with Seth. There were plenty of interesting things to be seen between here and there, including one in particular she felt she needed to investigate.

  “You want to shower first?” Seth’s voice interrupted her thinking.

  “Okay. Unless there’s room for the two of us in there?”

  “Regrettably, no. But I like the way you think.”

  Meg sighed dramatically. “Ah, well. There will be other showers—although we didn’t exactly lay out the one back home for two.”

  “There wasn’t room, if you recall. But the new old bathtub has potential.”

  “That it does.” Meg stood up. “I won’t be long. Is breakfast included with the room?�
�

  “I do believe it is.”

  “Good, because I’m hungry.”

  Clean and dressed, they took their time getting to the dining room, which also overlooked the river. There were only a few other couples, but Meg didn’t mind. She wasn’t there to make friends, she was there to enjoy her new husband’s company. They filled their plates from the breakfast buffet, topped up their coffee, and settled comfortably at a table overlooking the water.

  But before she started eating, Meg felt the urge to say something. “Seth, I might as well say this now and get it out of the way. I know you haven’t changed since last week, but every time I look at you I see the word HUSBAND in big letters.”

  He smiled. “On my chest? Floating over my head? What?”

  “Nothing so specific. It’s just that I didn’t expect it to make a difference. We’ve been together for a while now, so we know each other. But somehow going through a fifteen-minute ceremony seems to have made a psychological difference to me.”

  “Hmm,” Seth said. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I really don’t know. I know that overall things are kind of in flux about where marriage fits in our society today, but I think we’re both old enough that we brought along some of our parents’ baggage, if you know what I mean. We were brought up with the old model. There might have been some rebels back in their day, but still, a lot more couples got married when they were in their twenties back then than do today. You and I, we had a choice: we could go on just the way we were, which was nice, or we could buy into the whole ceremonial thing, which we did, at least in a low-key way. But we’ve got that piece of paper, and somehow, to me at least, it does make a difference. Do you feel anything like that?”

  Seth pushed the food around his plate, giving himself time to think. “My folks got married fairly early, and stayed married, even when there were difficult times.” He looked up at Meg. “Is that what you mean? That’s the old model?”