The Orchard at the Edge of Town

by Shirlee McCoy

“It’s the only building around. If I were eight, soaked to the skin and worried that my father was going to kill me, I’d probably try to find a house or a barn to hide in.”

  “I’m not going to kill them. I’m just going to ground them for life,” he muttered.

  “I’m sure that is their second option for punishment, and I’m sure they’re not all that excited about that either.”

  “Then they shouldn’t have left the school,” he ground out. “Natural consequences suck, and the natural consequences of this stunt are going to be painful.”

  He trudged across the field, shouting the girls’ names.

  She followed, doing the same, the rain slowing a little as they cleared the field, stepped out onto Dusty’s gravel driveway, and knocked on his front door.

  He didn’t answer, so they searched the yard, the back porch, the old tree house that someone had built in a giant birch tree. Every minute seemed longer than the next, every second that the girls were missing draining a little life from Simon’s face.

  Apricot watched it happen, her heart growing heavier and heavier. There was no tea that could fix this, no tincture that could make it better.

  She took his hand, squeezed gently.

  “We’re going to find them,” she said.

  “I hope to God you’re right,” he murmured, the words filled with a thousand fears she knew he would never speak.

  “We are, and when we do, I’m going to make them both a nice cup of ginger tea. They can drink it while you lecture them on the foolhardiness of their actions and Lilac force-feeds them those cow tongue sandwiches she always . . .” Her voice trailed off, a spot of color near Dusty’s barn catching her attention.

  She sprinted forward, adrenaline rushing through her as she lifted the tiny pink bow triumphantly. Simon took it from her hand, pressed his finger to his lips, and gestured for her to follow him into the barn. It was dim and quiet there, the musty scent of wet wood and dry hay filling the air. True to Dusty’s nature, the place was clean as a whistle, every tool hung from a hook on the wall, every stall mucked and empty.

  Something rustled in the loft above their heads, tiny bits of hay sprinkling down on Apricot’s shoulder. Simon brushed it off, his hand lingering, his palm warm against her cold skin.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Apricot,” he said loudly. “If the girls don’t return home, I may very well die of a broken heart.”

  He winked, and she smiled, because all the fear had drained from his face, all the worry had disappeared. He was himself again—the man who always seemed to be in control, who always seemed to know what to say and do, who could put up with his crazy sister-in-law and Apricot’s crazy family, and even Apricot, because he was just that kind of guy.

  “If you do,” she said solemnly, “I will try to revive you with true love’s kiss.”

  The thing in the loft shifted again, more hay spilling down.

  Simon grinned, and Apricot’s heart just kind of soared, her joy-meter just kind of filling up and spilling over.

  “Only a princess can offer that,” he said dramatically. “Are you a princess? Have you been hiding the truth from me? Do you have a kingdom where I can rest from my weary search?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am, I have, I do. My orchard is my kingdom. The apple blossoms are my crown,” she replied and was sure she heard a little girl giggle.

  “I love apple blossoms,” he replied with just the right touch of awe. “Decorate my coffin with them, okay? Because a father can’t live without his daughters, even if he has a princess to love.”

  “Don’t die on me, Simon!” Apricot cried, surprising a laugh out of him.

  He covered it with a fit of fake coughing.

  “I have to,” he rasped. “I can’t go on without my girls.”

  He dropped to his knees, fell to his back, lay there with his eyes closed.

  “No!” Apricot shouted. “He’s gone. His broken heart did him in.” She knelt beside him. “What shall I ever do?!”

  “You could try true love’s kiss,” he whispered, and she laughed, leaning over to do what he’d suggested, the sound of little girls scrambling down the ladder filling her ears as her lips touched his.

  God, he tasted good! Like fall rain and promises.

  “Daddy!” Rori cried. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break your heart.”

  She rushed in, throwing herself on Simon’s supine body, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Evie hung back, her dress torn, one of her shoes missing, a look of abject misery on her face. “If you’re really dead, Daddy, then my heart is going to be all broken up,” she said, a silent tear sliding down her damp face. “And I really think that I might die too.”

  “Then I guess,” Simon said, levering up onto his elbows, “it is really good that I’m not dead.”

  Evie squealed and jumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, telling him over and over again how sorry she was.

  Somehow he managed to get to his feet, the girls clinging to him like monkeys, their loud apologies filling the barn.

  He set them down, met Apricot’s eyes. “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You led me right to my girls.”

  “You would have found them without me.”

  He shrugged, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ears. “I learned something new about you today, Princess Apricot.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re quite the actress. I especially liked the kiss.”

  She blushed. Blushed!

  “Really? I thought it could use a little practice.”

  That made him smile.

  “You know what? I’m thinking you might be right. But at this moment, I’ve got two girls who look like they could use a little warming up. How about we take them to Rose’s place and do a little celebrating?” he suggested, pulling Apricot to his side. It felt right to be there. It felt good. It felt as if all the years she’d spent trying to be someone different than Apricot Sunshine from Happy Dale had been the lie and this was the truth.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Ginger tea and cow tongue?” he suggested.

  “That sounds perfect!” She laughed, taking his hand and leading Simon and the girls home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The girls didn’t much care for cow tongue, but they gagged it down. Simon figured they were hoping the lack of complaints would reduce their sentence. Wasn’t going to happen. Grounded for a month plus community service washing windows at the sheriff’s department. He’d allowed Cade to come up with the last part of the punishment. The girls’ offense had been serious and the consequences could have been too.

  Thank God they’d been found safe.

  “Well, I’m impressed,” Lilac said, taking the girls’ empty plates and setting them in Rose’s sink. “Not even one protest. You’re lovely girls, you know that? And that cow tongue is going to make you even lovelier. Now, my Apricot? She absolutely refuses to eat the stuff. That’s why she’s—”

  Apricot sighed. “Lilac, the girls really aren’t interested.”

  “Yes, we are,” they said in unison, their heads just peeking out from the piles of blankets that Lilac and Rose had wrapped them in. They looked tiny, their hair still damp, their cheeks pink from the heat that Hubert had turned on high.

  “She’ll tell you all about it another day,” Rose cut in. “Now, how about a nice cup of hot chocolate for both of you? Made from the finest cocoa in the world. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot more than that god-awful sandwich my sister made you.” She set mugs in front of both of them.

  “Can we, Daddy?” Rori asked.

  “I suppose that you can, but once you’re finished, we need to go home. You’re going to spend the rest of the day writing apology notes to the people at school.”

  “But, Daddy, we can’t go home,” Evie said, shoving away the hot chocolate.

  “You can,” he responded
. “And you will.”

  “But we haven’t found the kittens.”

  “Trying to find those kittens got you into this mess, and it seems to me you would be wise to not say another word about them.”

  “But they’re babies,” Evie cried. “And they’re all alone out in the rain.”

  “They’re not alone,” he corrected. “They’re together, and for all we know, they’re already back at the house.”

  “Maybe you can call Aunt Daisy and ask?” Evie suggested.

  No way was he going to tell the girls that their aunt had voluntarily signed herself into the psych ward at the hospital. Like the girls washing windows at the sheriff’s department, that had been Cade’s idea. Daisy needed help, not punishment, he’d said when he’d arrived to drop off Simon’s SUV and check on the girls. He’d also said that he’d talked to Eliza Jane, who would have been down at the station being booked on tampering with evidence if not for Jet’s unwillingness to press charges. Jet had told Cade that he wanted to forgive and forget and let the young mother learn from her mistakes. Cade had offered Eliza Jane a job cleaning his office twice a week. That, as far as Simon was concerned, was the best possible outcome. The girl had been desperate, and she’d done something stupid.

  Daisy on the other hand . . .

  Simon was still angry, still blaming her for the whole damn mess with the girls.

  He raked his hand over still-wet hair, trying to hold on to his patience. He’d already meted out the girls’ punishment, and he had no desire to be cruel, but the kittens . . .

  Yeah. The kittens.

  Despite what he’d said, he didn’t think they were at the house. They were probably long gone, eaten by coyotes or snagged by a particularly vicious raccoon.

  “Look, girls, I’ll put up some fliers tomorrow and we’ll see if anyone around town has seen your kittens, but for now, let’s just drop the subject.”

  “It’s very difficult to do that when your heart is invested,” Lilac chided, handing Simon what looked like another one of her cow tongue sandwiches. “The girls love those kittens like you love them. Just as you wandered around for an hour in the pouring rain to find your daughters, the girls will be obligated to search for the kittens until they are safely home. After all, it’s the way of life to want to be reunited with those we love.”

  “Lilac,” Apricot said, taking the sandwich from Simon and setting it on a plate. “Drop it.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s not your business.”

  “The world is my business.” Lilac gestured broadly, her bracelets jingling, the girls wide-eyed at the table watching her. “The children in it are my legacy.”

  Apricot sighed. “For crying out loud, Lilac, there’s no need for all the drama.”

  “You asked a question. I’m answering it.”

  “You didn’t answer anything. You gave me a rundown of your life philosophy. Now, seriously, drop the subject of the kittens. It is very hard to face reality when people are filling your head with dreams.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lilac set her hands on her hips and glared at her daughter.

  “Just that you should let Simon handle this.” Apricot glanced at the girls, and he knew she was thinking exactly what he was. The kittens were gone. For good. And letting the girls think otherwise wasn’t going to do them any good.

  “Humph,” Lilac responded. “You only say that because you don’t know how much power a dream can have. The girls, on the other hand, they’re still young enough to believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.”

  “Like true love’s kiss,” Evie said. “I wish a kiss could bring our kittens back.”

  “Who says it can’t?” Lilac asked.

  “Can it?” Rori eyed Lilac over the edge of her hot chocolate mug.

  “Only you can say for sure, and how will you know if you don’t give it a try? My granny used to say that if you blew kisses into the wind, your true love would return to you.”

  “Lilac,” Apricot warned, but the girls were already up and running toward the back door, their blankets left in a puddle on the floor.

  Simon didn’t even try to stop them.

  What would be the use?

  Trying to stop any of the women in his life was like trying to stop a tide from flowing in.

  “Sorry about that,” Apricot murmured as the girls and Lilac disappeared outside, Rose hot on their heels. Apparently, blowing kisses to the wind was a family affair.

  “Why?” he asked, tugging her in close because that felt like the most perfect thing he could do.

  “Because my mother is crazy? Because you don’t need any more crazy in your life? Because the girls don’t need their heads filled with a bunch of dreams? Because—”

  He kissed her, because the true-love kiss hadn’t been enough, and because he didn’t need apologies or less crazy, or even fewer dreams. He needed her.

  She moaned, her hands sliding under his shirt, trailing heat along his abdomen.

  “You’re going to be so sorry, Simon,” she murmured against his lips.

  “Because?” He nibbled his way along her jaw, his lips tracing a path across smooth, silky flesh.

  “Do you even need to ask?” She sighed. “You just got rid of one crazy relative, and now you’re taking on a dozen more.”

  “A dozen?”

  The back door flew open and the girls raced in, followed by Rose.

  “We did it, Daddy! We blew kisses to the wind! Now our kittens are going to come home to us, because Lilac says they’re our true loves!”

  “Told you,” Apricot said, but she didn’t step out of his arms.

  “Told him what?” Lilac demanded as she reentered the kitchen, her gaze dropping to Apricot’s hand, which was still, somehow, beneath Simon’s shirt.

  “That you,” Apricot said, her hand slipping away, “are certifiable.”

  “Because I encourage children to dream?”

  “Because you—”

  The doorbell rang, cutting off what Simon figured was going to be a very long battle.

  “Want me to get it?” he asked.

  Apricot shook her head. “I will.”

  She flew out of the room and was back a minute later, a large picnic basket in her hands.

  She looked . . . shell-shocked, alarmed, maybe a little scared.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, taking the basket and setting it on the table.

  “Dusty is here,” she murmured as the gnarly old farmer walked into the room. “He found something in his barn.”

  “And if I find it in there again”—Dusty glanced at Rose, swallowed hard—“well, I guess I’ll just have to come for another visit.”

  “What is it?” Simon asked, but he had a feeling he knew. Had a feeling, but told himself there was no way he could be right.

  “Look for yourself,” Apricot responded. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  He lifted the lid and something gray jumped out.

  “Handsome!” the girls cried, giggling as the ugly kitten sped around the room, a big white feather in his mouth. They were so busy watching him, they didn’t see two little black heads peering out of the basket.

  Simon did.

  He met Apricot’s eyes.

  She shrugged.

  One of the kittens mewed pitifully, and the girls nearly fell all over themselves, grabbing the basket and taking their lost kittens out.

  Darn it all to Grandma Sapphire’s plantation and back! Apricot thought as she listened to the girls’ excited squeals.

  She was glad the kittens had been returned.

  She was even happy that Handsome was clawing his way up her leg.

  She was not happy that the basket of kittens had been delivered right after Lilac’s silly ritual.

  Handsome settled on her shoulder, dropping the feather as he perched there like an overgrown parakeet.

  It floated to the table, as white and clean as it had been before the cat ha
d dragged it out into the rain.

  “It worked,” Evie cried. “Daddy, it worked! Our kisses brought the kittens back!”

  “Just as I said they would,” Lilac proclaimed, smirking at Apricot.

  “This has nothing to do with . . .”

  Apricot was going to say it had nothing to do with kisses blown in the wind.

  She wanted to say it.

  But the girls were watching, their eyes big, their kittens clutched close to their chests.

  She didn’t have the heart to do it.

  “Anything,” she continued lamely.

  “You just keep telling yourself that, dear,” Lilac said, sweeping across the room, the floating edges of her muumuu catching Handsome’s attention. The kitten jumped down and followed her to the food dish she was filling with kibble.

  “There you are, my handsome boy,” she crooned. “Girls, bring your babies here and let them eat. Dusty, how about you have a seat at the table? I’ll make you a nice cow tongue sandwich. Hubert is out hunting mushrooms. If he finds some good ones, we’ll send you home with a nice pot of fungus stew!”

  “Sounds great!” Dusty took a seat, his eyes glued to Rose.

  And Apricot had a sudden epiphany, a thought so terrifying that she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  Kittens? Feathers? Noise? Chaos?

  Good golly!

  It was Happy Dale all over again.

  “You look terrified,” Simon whispered in her ear.

  “I am,” she muttered.

  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me why?” His hands settled on her waist, and he maneuvered her past the kittens and the girls, past her mother, past Rose and her besotted neighbor.

  He walked her out onto the back stoop, and she collapsed on the top step because her legs just wouldn’t hold her up.

  Simon sat beside her, not saying a word.

  The rain had stopped, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and the orchard glowed golden and beautiful. She could still hear the girls and Lilac, still hear Dusty’s rumbling baritone and Rose’s quiet laughter. A dozen yards out, Hubert picked his way along the edge of the yard, shoulders hunched as he looked for mushrooms. He glanced their way, raising a hand in a silent salute before he went back to his task.