Bitter Harvest

by Sheila Connolly

  Bree sat back in her chair. “Just to be clear, you’re saying you want to go forward with another year, at least? Same terms? Or, maybe I could get a raise?”

  “You tell me—you ran the numbers.”

  “Huh.” She thought for a moment. “We should probably pay the pickers better before I take any more. But we can see.” She stood up. “Thank you, Meg. For trusting me, and for giving me this chance. And for being willing to pitch in and do the grubby stuff. I think we should be proud of ourselves.” She hesitated. “Uh, we don’t have to hug or anything, do we?”

  “No, I’m good. And thank you, too, Bree. Are you still going back to Michael’s?”

  “Sure. Gotta seize the day when we can. You tell Seth the good news?”

  “Kind of, but I guess I was giving him the same mixed signals I was giving you. We left things . . . kind of unsettled. I don’t think I’ve been fair to him either.”

  “Nope, you haven’t,” Bree said promptly. “The guy’s in love with you, and you keep putting him off. How long you think he’s going to hang around? He’s prime merchandise—somebody’ll come along and snap him up.”

  “Bree! And I haven’t put him off, not exactly. Well, sort of. But you’re right—he deserves better, and he’s been very patient.”

  Bree snorted again. “You got that right—he’s a saint to put up with you and all your waffling. Okay, I’m leaving, as soon as I throw some clothes together. Go patch things up with Seth.”

  “I will,” Meg said to Bree’s retreating back. She sat sipping her coffee, trying to figure out what to do next. Growing up, her family had gone out of their way to avoid confrontations or sticky emotional situations. She’d heard things from her mother during her recent visit that had never been mentioned before. But avoidance was not an answer, even if it cut down on unpleasantness. Or deferred it, because somewhere down the line there was usually a price to pay.

  Would the price of her waffling be losing Seth? Bree was right: he had been a saint. She had wanted time and space to decide whether they could have a relationship, and he had granted her that. But he wasn’t going to wait around forever for her to decide that the time was right. There was never a perfect time. You took what life handed you, you dealt with it, and you moved on. Okay, so in the past few months life had handed her a lot of manure, but she’d come out of it stronger. Maybe Seth was the prize at the bottom of the box. But now she had some fences to mend with him.

  Before she could worry the idea to death, Meg stood up, grabbed her coat, and headed out for her car. If there hadn’t been snow on the ground, she would have walked over the hill to his house, which might have burned off a little nervous energy. As it was, she had to take the long way around to reach his place. She pulled up beside the side door, climbed out of the car, then knocked.

  It took him a minute or two to answer, and when he opened the door he looked sleep-rumpled. And surprised.

  “May I come in?” Meg asked. She realized her heart was pounding.

  Silently Seth stepped aside to let her in, his eyes never leaving her. She turned to face him. “Seth,” she began, and then realized she had no idea what to say. She had a better idea what to do: she closed the distance between them and, grabbing his head, kissed him, hard. He didn’t respond at first, but when she didn’t retreat, he gave back as good as she gave.

  Until she finally managed to take a step back and look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. And I hated the way we left things when you walked out last night.”

  “Okay,” he said cautiously.

  Meg waited for him to add something, and when he didn’t, she realized that she wasn’t finished, and he knew it. “Seth, I haven’t been fair to you. Maybe this past year hasn’t been the best time to fall in love—or maybe it was, because there was so much stuff going on that I didn’t have the energy to put up defenses. But I can’t stand the idea of hurting you—or losing you.”

  His mouth twitched in a half smile, and he pulled her to him again, and held on. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to figure that out,” he said to the top of her head.

  “Yeah, that’s what Bree said,” Meg said into his chest.

  “What, you talked this over with Bree before me?” he said, in mock dismay.

  “Well, she showed up this morning, and I had to apologize to her. God, I’ve been an annoying prima donna, haven’t I? Thinking I get to call all the shots, and not considering other people. I’m sorry.”

  “You already said that.”

  “I know, but I thought I should get some practice. Look, I think I love you, but I don’t have a lot of experience in this area, so you’ll have to bear with me. Is that all right?”

  “I’m good with it. I know I love you. I have since, oh, February, I think.”

  “Oh, Seth . . .” She really had nothing to say to that, so she grabbed him again, and picked up the kiss where they had left off. This time it didn’t end as quickly.

  25

  “You want breakfast?” Seth called out from the kitchen.

  “I ate at home, but I’m hungry again. Sure,” Meg said, coming down the stairs.

  “French toast all right?”

  “Of course. Can I just sit and admire your efforts?”

  “Great.”

  As she watched him move efficiently around his kitchen, Meg said, “You know, I had a kind of epiphany in the middle of the night last night. I woke up around four and I was trying to figure out whether I’d heard something that woke me up, and if it was my mystery prowler.”

  “Was it anything?” he said, beating eggs in a bowl.

  “I don’t think so. But I realized I didn’t want to live my life jumping at shadows and worrying every time something creaked. Which happens a lot.”

  “Old houses do that. So what’s your solution?”

  “I want to do something about it.”

  Seth dropped egg-soaked bread into a hot, buttered pan. “Like what?”

  “Well, the majority of the incidents have happened around the house, right? So I think we need to set up some sort of watch system—make sure someone is home at all times, but not obviously, you know?”

  “I did suggest security cameras.”

  “And they’re still absurd. Besides, they’d be too obvious. Can’t we just use our eyes? There are three of us, if I enlist Bree. Surely we can manage to keep an eye on things for a few days? And nights?”

  “Maybe. Are you figuring that we need to watch the area between the house and the barn, primarily? My shop overlooks that, too.”

  “True. I know it’s a kind of vague plan, but I’m not sure what else to do. Wait until somebody really gets hurt?”

  “No one has yet, although that shot came pretty close. And I can’t say that whoever it is won’t up the ante. But what I still don’t get is what he wants.”

  Meg sighed. “I have no idea, other than to drive me nuts, which he seems to be doing. That’s why I want this to stop—I don’t want someone I don’t even know to dictate how I live my life. I don’t want to give him that kind of control over me.”

  Seth set a plate of French toast in front of her, and handed her a bottle of maple syrup. “Before you ask, yes, it’s local, from Parker’s on the other side of the highway.”

  Meg made approving sounds as she sampled the syrup. “This is good stuff. Do I have any maple trees I could tap? Seriously, though, do you have any better ideas about what we can do?”

  “Nope,” he said, sitting down with his own plate. “You’ve done the right things, and informed the local authorities, who are helpless. They don’t have the manpower to keep watch on your place, and even if they did, the person— assuming it’s a local person who’s paying attention—might just lay low until they went away. I guess it’s up to us.”

  “So you’ll help?”

  “Of course. But I’ve got a full schedule this week, so it may not be easy to stay awake all night.”

  “We’ll work it out. Th
ank you, Seth. It makes me feel better just to be doing something. I’m tired of being anxious all the time.”

  After finishing the unquestionably delicious French toast, Meg stretched and stood up. “I should go. I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

  Seth collected the dishes and deposited them in the sink. “I do. I’ll be right behind you. Meg?”

  She wrestled her arms into her coat, then turned to face him. “What?”

  “If you hadn’t showed up this morning, I would have been at your door. But I’m glad you came to me.”

  Meg smiled. “So am I. See you in a few.”

  She drove home feeling ridiculously pleased with herself. Was that really all it took? Saying I’m sorry? As she had told Seth, she hadn’t had a lot of practice. Not that she believed she was never wrong, but she’d seldom tried to explain or defend herself. Maybe she’d always hoped that the people who cared about her knew what her true intentions were and forgave her automatically. Or maybe that was the mother of all rationalizations and she was just too insecure to say the words. Well, she’d changed a lot in her life; she could change this, too. And look at the results!

  Her “watch and wait” plan might be rather vague, but it was better than doing nothing. If someone was targeting her, for whatever reason, she wanted to identify the person—and ask him why. No one had the right to disrupt her life like this. Not now, when she should be happy, or at least content. She’d accomplished something with the orchard and her home, and she wanted to enjoy that. She’d earned that.

  As he had promised, Seth pulled into the driveway in his work van a few minutes later. He waved as he got out, but he headed directly toward his office at the back. Not long after Meg heard another vehicle, and looked out to see John arriving. Seth came out to greet him and they conferred, although Meg couldn’t hear what they were talking about. John nodded a couple of times, and they both started loading supplies into the back of his pickup truck, then they both pulled away. Business as usual. It was, after all, the start of a new workweek—and Meg felt rather lost without some work to do. What had farmers done in winter, in the old days? Mended things, no doubt. Sharpened their tools. Done what interior repairs they could.

  Bree had put the goats in their outdoor pen before she left, and Meg wandered out to say hello to them. They looked happy and healthy—although Meg wasn’t sure she would recognize an unhealthy goat. Would their hair fall out? Would they refuse to eat? Mope in the corners of their pen? Bleat constantly? Well, at the moment they were doing none of the above, so Meg hoped they were all right. “Hi, Dorcas, Isabel. What’s new?”

  They both looked at her briefly and went on munching hay.

  Meg leaned on a fence post. “I know how you feel. Kind of dull these days, isn’t it? Spring should be a lot more interesting. Plus you can spend more time outside then. You should be active, right?” Meg knew she missed the sheer physical activity that the orchard demanded. “Uh, you haven’t seen anyone lurking around, have you?”

  Dorcas and Isabel ignored her. It was a silly question anyway. How did she expect goats to identify a prowler? If they bit someone, could forensic evidence link the goats’ teeth to the culprit? Maybe she should train them as watchgoats.

  Meg was surprised when an unfamiliar car rattled its way into the driveway, though when she walked toward it, she recognized John’s wife Jenn as the driver. Jenn opened the door and stood in its lee, out of the wind. Baby Eli was strapped into his car seat in the back. “Is John here?”

  “He was, but he and Seth went off a little while ago. They didn’t say where they were going.”

  “Damn. We must’ve got our wires crossed—I thought he said he’d be around this morning. Eli’s got a doctor’s appointment, and John’s got the checkbook.”

  Jenn didn’t look well, Meg thought. Her pale hair needed washing, and her eyes and nose were red-rimmed, as if she had a cold. Her jacket was far from new, and whatever stuffing it had was limp and defeated. “Are you in a hurry, or do you want to come in for coffee?” Meg asked.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to . . .”

  “Please. I’m kind of at loose ends now that the harvest is over, and I’d love to have someone to talk to. Besides, we’re neighbors. And I have Seth’s number—maybe John’s with him, or at least he knows where he is. I can give him a call.”

  Jenn sniffed. “I guess. The doctor’s appointment isn’t until eleven. You don’t mind if I bring Eli, do you?”

  “Not at all. Unless he’s allergic to cats. But I’ve only got the one.”

  “That’s okay. We’ve got three.” Jenn went around to the other side of the car and started disentangling a sleepy Eli from his car seat. Meg went back into the kitchen to put a kettle on to boil. Jenn rapped on the door a couple of moments later.

  “Come on in. Is coffee all right, or would you like something else?”

  “Coffee’s good.” With a practiced move, Jenn shrugged off her jacket without letting go of her son. With one hand she slung the jacket over the back of a chair and sat down, settling Eli on her lap. He pointed at Lolly, once again curled up on the top of the refrigerator. “Gah!” he said.

  “Yeah, baby, that’s a cat. You’ve got a great house, Meg.”

  “Thanks. Have you been inside before?”

  “No, but I’ve been driving past it most of my life—I grew up in Granford. Good thing you got rid of some of those lowlifes that were living here before.”

  “The renters?” Meg measured coffee, then poured hot water over the grounds. “Why?”

  “They were bringing down the neighborhood. You’re lucky they didn’t trash the place.”

  That was something Meg had never considered. Sure, they had ignored some needed repairs, and left behind some seriously shabby furniture, but it had never occurred to Meg that renters would want to do real damage. “I guess I am. My mother left all that to the local law firm, who found a real estate firm to handle the rentals.”

  “Your mother, she’s the one who inherited?”

  “Yes, she did, although now we own it jointly. I must say, it was a real surprise to her when the Warren sisters left it to her. We’re pretty distantly related. What do you like in your coffee?”

  “Milk and sugar, if you’ve got ’em.”

  “Of course.” Meg set her sugar bowl on the table and pulled a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “Here you go. You want me to hold the baby—Eli, right?—while you fix your coffee?”

  “You don’t have to—unless you want to?”

  Did she? Meg’s experience with small children was limited. “Sure.” Meg held out her arms, and Jenn deposited a rather damp Eli in them, who promptly stuck a finger up Meg’s nose. She gently removed it, asking, “You said he was sixteen months old? Is he walking yet?”

  “Some. Mostly he crawls. Don’t you, sweetie?” Jenn cooed at Eli. Eli turned his head toward his mother but otherwise seemed content to stay in Meg’s arms. Jenn added two spoons of sugar and a healthy dollop of milk to her mug and stirred.

  “He’s so blond,” Meg said, looking down at the top of Eli’s head. “He must take after you.”

  “I guess. Hey, you got anything to eat? We kind of missed breakfast.”

  Meg recalled belatedly that John was out of work, so food money was probably tight. “Toast, muffins?”

  “Whatever.”

  Jenn held out her arms for her son, and Meg handed him back, then went to the refrigerator to explore. “I’ve got some leftover coffee cake.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Meg pulled the coffee cake out of the refrigerator and set it in the microwave to warm up, then found plates, knives, and butter. When she turned back, Jenn was wandering around the kitchen, studying the details, bouncing Eli in her arms. “How old’s this place?” she asked.

  “I figure it was built around 1760, with some changes maybe a hundred years later.”

  Jenn nodded. “Our place is maybe fifty years old. And a lot smaller.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t remember which house it is,” Meg said.

  “Small, white asbestos shingles, green roof, one-car garage. Easy to miss. It’s actually John’s mother’s place.”

  “Does she live with you?”

  “We live with her. She helps with the babysitting, so I can get out now and then.”

  Meg noticed that the coffee cake had disappeared quickly from Jenn’s plate. “She works at Gran’s, right? I met her there this week. Can I get anything for Eli?”

  “No, he liked the cake.” That was evident from the abundant crumbs he’d scattered down his front and on the table. Jenn extricated her wrist and checked the time. “Can you call Seth, see where John is?”

  “Oh, sure.” Meg found her cell phone, hit Seth’s speed dial number, and handed over the phone and busied herself with washing their few dishes while Jenn talked.

  When she was finished, Jenn handed back the phone. “Thanks. John’s gonna meet me at the doctor’s office. I’d better go or we’ll be late. Thanks for the coffee, Meg. Come on, Eli—bye-bye time.”

  “Here, let me hold him while you put on your coat,” Meg volunteered.

  “Thanks.” Jenn handed the baby back to Meg.

  Meg and Eli contemplated each other silently for the few seconds it took Jenn to pull on her coat. He certainly was a placid child, Meg thought.

  “He’s sure no trouble,” Meg said.

  Jenn took him back. “Yeah, he’s Mommy’s little sweetie.”

  Meg opened the back door for her. “Nice to see you, Jenn. And you too, Eli.” Meg waved at Eli. Eli just stared at her. Maybe she had no knack for babies.

  She watched Jenn buckle her son into his car seat again, and pull out in a cloud of exhaust—obviously the car could use a tune-up. Which they probably couldn’t afford.

  Entertaining Jenn and Eli had used up maybe half an hour. It wasn’t even time for lunch. The goats were taken care of. Now what? With a sigh, Meg acknowledged that she’d probably be forced to do some of that dreaded housework she kept deferring. Maybe she could make curtains—or order them online, since she hadn’t used her sewing skills since she was a Girl Scout. So she should go measure windows and decide which curtains really had to be replaced.