Reap (The Harvest Saga Book 1) (3 page)

“Where do I have to work?” His body tensed. This was bad.
Oh, no. Not Norris. Please, not him.
“The Preston’s house.”

“No. I won’t do it. I’m not going anywhere near Norris again. Not if I can help it.” Norris was Councilman Preston’s henchman.

“You don’t have a choice. You can’t get lashed again. He’d kill you if you defied him again. He almost did this time.”

“I didn’t defy him. I stood up for Megan.”

Confusion knitted his brow. “Megan? I thought you were punished for insubordination.”

“Yes, Megan. Five-year-old Megan. He caught her picking apples in one of the trees that line the orchard. She was starving, Ky. He was going to drag her to the square. She was kicking and screaming, crying, and begging him to let her go. He pulled out that whip and I...I just couldn’t let him do it. She’s so little. He has no business whipping a child.”

“So, you distracted him?”

“No. Well, sort of. I grabbed her from him, and told her to run and get you.”

His jaw clenched again and he looked away from me. “You took her punishment.” It wasn’t a question. He knew me like no one else.

“Yes.”

He pulled me close again and planted a soft kiss upon my temple. “I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to be in the north orchard.”

I pushed him back. “Go. He’s looking for a reason to use that stupid whip any chance he gets. You’ll be next.”

He laughed dangerously. “He knows I’m here. But, I have to get back. I’ll check on you tonight after I get home.”

“Where’s Lulu?”

“Not sure, but she won’t be happy to find you in this state. She may take her shotgun after Norris.”

I nodded in agreement. My aunt would not be happy about this. She just might get the old shotgun out. She’s pulled the rusty thing out for less. Of course, I didn’t think anyone could stop Norris. He’d made a deal with the devil, losing his soul long ago. I was sure of it. He’d been terrorizing this village for years. Since the fool who had been sheriff appointed him the job at least ten years ago.

Norris wasn’t old, maybe thirty-eight or thirty-nine, but he was one sadistic, evil man. Anyone who would even consider raising a horse whip to the back of a five-year-old, starving little girl has more than a screw loose. And, he was intimidating. His hair was a dark brown and always hung long and greasy into his eyes. The scar he wore on his right cheek was jagged and warped his already pockmarked skin.

Children had made up stories for years about how he got it. But, I wasn’t sure if anyone really knew the truth about how he got that scar.

I squeezed Kyan once more and then all but pushed him out my bedroom door, wincing when I raised my arms a bit too high. I slowly followed him to the front door, which was only a few more feet away, and watched him jump down off the porch and start toward the orchard. “I’ll be back tonight. Go rest. You start work tomorrow,” he yelled back at me.

“Great,” I muttered as I watched his tall form crest the small hill and then disappear behind it. I closed the front door. It was made of old barn wood and you had to slam it to get it to close all the way. I stepped through our kitchen slash living area and retreated into my bedroom.

The bedrooms in the cabin were small, barely large enough for our tiny beds and small wooden wardrobes. The whole cabin was wood. Wooden walls led to wooden floors. Wooden beams and planks lined the ceiling that wasn’t quite tall enough. I’d always felt smothered by it, like it was slowly creeping down on me, instead of me growing taller.

There were no windows in the bedrooms in an attempt to conserve heat in the winter. Unfortunately, the other nine months of the year in Orchard weren’t cold. And, the heat got trapped then, too. In the summertime, I slept on the porch or on the living room couch with the front door propped wide open.

My back stung and some of the slashes began to throb. Suddenly thankful for my day’s reprieve, I decided to rest. Retreating to my room, I lied down on my stomach and settled my head on my crossed arms. My back spread and was uncomfortable for a moment until I relaxed. Sleep came swiftly.

∞

A slam jolted me out
of my slumber. Another slam echoed in the front of the cabin and footsteps hurried to my door. I didn’t know how long I’d slept or if it was still daylight, but I was still tired and just wanted to retreat back into the sweet abyss again. My door opened and I turned my head to see my aunt standing in the doorway.

“What happened, Abby?” She rushed over. I tried to push myself up, but my back was so stiff. The skin even felt stiff. How was that possible? I winced trying to get up. “Stay down. Let me see.” She gingerly lifted the back of Ky’s shirt and peeked underneath. The fabric slowly peeled away from my skin where the bandages that Evelyn had applied didn’t quite reach, or had shifted, and it felt like part of the wounds tore open again. A hiss escaped from between my teeth at the same time a curse flew from her lips.

“Evelyn sent more salve. She said that your body would absorb part of it and that more would have to be packed in.” Lulu helped me sit up and one by one, I unbuttoned the shirt and again peeled it away from my back. The only portion of my skin not torn to shreds from the fifteen lashes was the part that my bra had covered, although at the last lash, it only hung on by a thread.

“Evelyn came to the depot. She said you’d been injured and gave me the medicine and salve. I had no idea. Did Norris do this?” All I could do was nod.

Lulu took my shirt as I lie back down on my stomach and tried to remain as still as possible as Lulu packed my wounds. Having left the room, I could hear her banging around in the kitchen before she returns with a steaming mug containing more of the special tea. I gulped it down, hoping it helped numb the pain like it had before. When my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep almost immediately.

Something was touching my face, caressing my cheek. The skin that brushed mine was rough, hardened by the work we all share.
Am I dreaming?
I waited, trying to see if this was real or part of a dream. Whichever it was, it was nice, comforting.

Rough fingertips moved over the parts of my back that weren’t split open and packed with gunk. I sucked in a breath and held it. This was real. I moved my head and saw his silhouette against the candlelight flickering in from the kitchen and living room. “Ky?” My voice was raspy and barely sounded like my own. Sleep and exhaustion filled every chord.

“Shh. I’m here.” Suddenly, I was very aware that I was lying shirtless on my bed. Even though, I was on my stomach, that didn’t help me feel any less naked in front of my best friend, who happened to be a member of the male species—a very fine male specimen according to my girlfriends.

I knew he was handsome. I wasn’t blind. But, I didn’t see him like that. He’d dated many of my friends and now was getting ready to marry Paige Winters in just a few weeks, after the harvest was complete and the orchards picked bare. His fingertips trace the in-tact skin between my shoulder blades and I tensed under his touch.

He’d kissed my head and temple and hugged me more times than I can count, but this was somehow different. This was more intimate. His touch was delicate, gentle compared to his normal strength and anything but playful. “Ky?”

He didn’t answer. His fingers explored my back, careful not to stray too close to the wounds that streaked across my skin. “Kyan?”

“Shut up, Abby. Just let me... Just shut up.” He’d never talked to me like this. His voice was raspy and he’d never, ever told me to shut up before. So I did. I wasn’t sure why. He shouldn’t have been touching my skin. Shouldn’t have been caressing the good parts left of me, but sitting with me in the dark, he was doing exactly that and I was allowing it.

Paige would be furious if she saw us now. She’d always had a jealous streak, had always hated any girl who dated or flirted with Ky. Lately, she told anyone and everyone who will listen that Kyan was hers and that she hated me with a passion. She wasn’t lying. She hated me.  Rather, she hated my relationship with Ky. He was my best friend. I wasn’t interested in him as anything more or anything else. I’d told her that. He’d told her that a million times. But, she refused to listen, adamant that I wanted him for myself, adamant that he wanted me.

I honestly didn’t have those types of feelings for Kyan. I never have had them. Ever. And up until now, I’d always thought he felt the same. But feeling his fingers exploring my skin made even me question that sentiment. And it scared me to death.

I lie there in the dark, his caresses awakening my senses like nothing else ever has. Sure, I’d kissed a guy before, but nothing more than that. And, truthfully, it wasn’t anything to write home about. Seth Avery had cornered me behind a tool shed and planted a sloppy wet kiss on my lips. I pushed him away and ran off to tell Lulu as fast as my gangly legs and knobby knees would carry me. I wasn’t sure if that really counted as a kiss, now that I thought about it. I was eleven. And, it was forced upon me. I certainly didn’t want Seth Avery’s lips on mine. The thought still made me cringe.

Ky removed his fingers from my back. He stood and began pacing the floor. “Bastard!” he barked. I flinched at his tone. “Somebody needs to teach him a lesson. I swear...”

“Ky. Calm down. It’s not gonna be you. You need to go home. You’re tired and getting worked up over nothing.”

“Over nothing? Abby, he sliced your back wide open. This isn’t nothing. I’ve seen grown men walk away with shallower stripes than this. You’ve been flayed. He meant to torture you. Can’t you see that?”

“Yes. But, I asked for it. He wanted to teach me a lesson. He wanted to hurt me and he did. But, in the end, I knew what I was getting myself into. It was my decision.”

Ky stopped and stomped over to me, kneeling in front of my face, still pressed into my pillow. He gently pushed some hair behind my ear. “He has no right beating around on kids or women. He damn near peeled your flesh from your bones. Do you even get it? Do you understand how bad you’re ripped open?”

“I understand. But, you need to lay low. We need you for the harvest and Paige needs you to be there for her now. Soon she’ll be your wife. You’ll be her husband. Don’t do anything stupid to mess any of that up right now. Not for me.”

He clenched his jaw and then spoke quietly. “I don’t want to marry her.” Ky had never admitted it. I knew it was true. But, the words hadn’t passed his lips until now. His warm brown eyes searched my face. I knew he didn’t want to, but his parents and hers had made the arrangement and there was no stopping it now. He had no say in the matter. His opinion wasn’t taken into account. Any protests, even now, would fall upon deaf ears and invite nothing but trouble into his life.

I looked at him. “Doesn’t matter. You have to deal with it.”

“I don’t love her.” He pinned me with his stare.

“I know. But, you might as well learn to.” I hated this. I hated that we had no control. From infancy we were taught two things. Work hard and obey. Any deviation at all and a swift, harsh punishment would immediately be handed down. Beat into submission. Ruled by fear. It wasn’t just Norris, either. It was our parents and guardians, the village council, but most of all the Greaters in their grand cities.

Control was paramount to maintain order and peace. But, right now, I felt anything but peaceful. I felt mutinous, rebellious. I wanted to lash out, fight back, jump up and down, and scream. But, it would do no good. I’d be whipped, again—beaten within an inch of my life, again. The lashes on my back would look like child’s play when they were through with me.

“I don’t love her, Abby Blue. I love—”

My eyes stopped him before my words did. “Ky. Don’t go there. Whatever you’re about to say, just...don’t. It won’t change anything.” He recoiled and stood abruptly, before marching out the door, slamming the rickety wood into the wall behind it. I blinked at the sound.
Does Ky love me?

Morning came way too soon
. Lulu woke me up and helped me get ready. There was no way I could possibly wear a bra, so she cut an old sheet and made a wide strip of fabric with. She carefully wrapped my torso like a mummy, effectively binding my chest and the wounds on my back at the same time. It had relieved some of the pressure and I asked her to bind me again tonight after she slopped the goopy herbal concoction on me. She was happy to have given me some relief and chastised me for even asking for her help this evening.

She helped me shrug on one of Ky’s button-down shirts. The hem tickled my knees, but I didn’t care. I wanted and needed something loose, especially since I had to report for work at the Preston’s today. The thought made me cringe. Every movement of my arms, every step, reminded me of my punishment—not just the wounds on my back, but the punishment of coming into contact with Zander Preston.

I hated Zander Preston with a fierce passion. He had always bullied and belittled me. Not only me, but anyone he felt was beneath him or could be a threat to him. His father held a position on the village council, contributing to this unhealthy obsession with entitlement. An obsession that allowed him to believe he had the right to treat everyone around him as if they were beneath him.

Every villager in Orchard was born a Lesser, deemed by those in the cities, to be something subhuman and only good for one thing–work. The citizens of those magnificent streets, with buildings rumored to scrap the sky were the Greaters. They believed themselves to be born better in every way than Lessers, the workers they controlled. We were fit to produce and prepare their food and the raw materials that the cities required to keep running, but for little else. So how Zander, a Lesser just like everyone else in Orchard, could somehow consider himself more, I did not understand. Maybe by putting everyone else down, he managed to somehow make himself feel better.

I didn’t know. And, right now, as I gingerly slid my legs into my jeans, my feet into my socks and shoes, I didn’t care. I just hoped that I would get there after Zander left for the orchards. In the kitchen, Lulu hugged me softly and kissed my cheek, handing me a small burlap bag with my lunch packed inside. “Behave, Abigail. I know how you feel about that Zander boy, but for God’s sake, behave. You’re in no shape to take another lashing.”

“I will, Lulu. I promise.” I squeezed her a bit tighter and appreciated her sweet, comforting scent. She had always smelled of fresh grass and morning dew–earthy and like home. I came to live with her when I was only two years old. I don’t remember my parents. Lulu says they couldn’t raise me, so they sent me to her. They were too young to have a child, her baby brother and my mother.

I often wondered who they were, what type of people they were now, if they were even still alive, and if they would recognize me if they saw me now that I was grown. Would I recognize them? Would I favor my father or mother more?

I was never unhappy here with Lulu. She had always been great, so supportive and loving. She’d been my parent for as long as I could remember and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. I harbored no bitterness or anger toward my parents. If they couldn’t raise me, at least they gave me Lulu, and along with her, they gave me the chance to be loved by someone who wanted and could care for me.

I pulled away from her and smiled, looking her over. She was only five foot three, but she had always been a spitfire. Her brown hair was streaked with gray now and pulled back in a small bun at the nape of her neck, her hair having thinned over the years. Her eyes were strange, but beautiful. Sometimes they looked brown, but today they looked almost green. They were hazel, but so much more, ever changing with their surroundings. Chameleon eyes. Big and round and beautiful.

She nudged me out the door toward the Preston’s, and I trudged down the path that began in back of our house. I passed several other homes along the way to the Preston’s. Their home was a bigger than ours, bigger than any in our village, actually.
Goes along with their haughty egos.

Cresting a small hill, the house rose mightily from the earth cleared around it. My heart began to beat rapidly. I really, really did not want to go into the Preston home. And, I desperately did not want to see Zander this morning. I promised Lulu I would behave. I would hate to break my promise. But with Zander, all bets were off. And, even Lulu knew that.

Their home had two floors. It had more than four bedrooms in total. With only three occupants, this truly was luxurious. Most houses in the village had two bedrooms. Those were usually shared. Children would pile into one room and parents into the other. A couple of homes had three bedrooms, but an extra was usually only added when no more children could be stuffed inside the spare, and only after the council had consulted with the Greaters and they approved of the addition. 

The Preston house was opposing. The wood had been whitewashed and the porch was held up by enormous wooden beams, adding to its imposing grandeur. I squared my shoulders, climbed the six stairs to the porch’s landing, and made my way to the door. It opened before I could even knock. I stood there, my hand raised into a fist, ready to pound on the wood. Looking back at me with his ever present signature smirk was none other than Zander Preston.
Crap.

If he wasn’t such a jerk, he would be attractive. Actually, that was an understatement. He would be amazingly handsome. But, his horrific attitude made him ugly. He smirked at me and swept his open palm inward, motioning me into his home. I stepped over the threshold and sucked in a deep breath.

His palm landed firmly on my back, and I flinched and whimpered before I could control it. He laughed, but thankfully removed his paw from my skin, which was now on fire thanks to his carelessness, or purposeful placement, rather. “Oh, sorry, Abigail. I must have forgotten about your back.”

“Right. You forgot the reason that I’m here? Sure you did,” I bit back. I was not about to let him bully me.

“Easy, tiger. I’m just your welcome wagon. I’m supposed to show you what to do today. My mother left a list for you. It’s underwhelming to me. But, she argued that your back is still healing and that you mustn’t be pushed too hard; too fast. She plans to keep you around for a while and we need you healthy.”

Keep me around for a while? Whatever. As soon as I could raise my arms without flinching, I’d be back in the orchard. He grabbed my elbow and led me into the kitchen. There, on the counter, sat a list, written in perfect loopy handwriting. And, if the items that stretched down its length were short, so was I.

For the record, I stood five foot seven, fairly tall compared to the other girls around here. Zander left me for a moment to rifle around a nearby closet, emerging with a bucket, cleaner, scrub brushes, mop, and broom. His teeth were white against his sun-kissed skin. His hair was so blonde it was almost white in places where the sun has bleached it over the summer. He wasn’t tall, but wasn’t particularly short either, just average. Zander was neither scrawny nor muscular. Again, average. Perhaps his attitude was a poor attempt to compensate for his mediocrity. His averageness.

He dropped everything in a heap in the floor. “Well, Abigail. I’m off to the orchard. Get to work. I’ll check your work when I get home, so you’d better be thorough. I’d hate for Norris to hear that you’re slacking on the job.” He smirked and sauntered out the front door. I had never happier to see a door slam closed in my entire life. I decided to start upstairs and work my way down, based upon the items on the list.

I was accustomed to hard work. I didn’t fear it, but would normally welcome it. But, being here in the Preston household made me loathe it. Somehow they did manage to make me feel less than Lesser.

∞

Mrs. Preston’s “short list” had
made for a very long day. My back ached and sharp pains shot like forked lightening up and down one of the deeper slices in particular in almost a zipper-like pain—the one that curled overtop my left shoulder and licked its way across my collar bone. Darkness descended in the valley and soon everyone would come home from a long day in the fields. I furiously tried to hurry and finish. I wanted to avoid seeing Zander again like the plague.

Sloshing soapy water over the kitchen floor, I realized that I still had half of it to finish before I could leave. My back had definitely slowed me down today. If not for the pain, I would have been done at least an hour ago. My knees ached as I crawled across the roughly hewn floor of their immaculate kitchen, but the Preston’s floor was much smoother than mine and Lulu’s, so I shouldn’t complain.

I scrubbed. Hard. Back and forth, pressing the brush into the bubbles until I felt that it was clean enough to move along to the next portion, and then the next. The rhythm was nearly killing me, but I was desperate to finish this last chore on the list, and so I pressed on.

Unfortunately, my efforts weren’t enough. I heard the door open. Councilman and Mrs. Preston entered the room and I quickly dried the floor that I’d been scrubbing. Mrs. Preston’s eyes sharply took in everything in the room, including me, unfortunately. Her lip curled upward on one side and her pointed nose lifted a little higher into the air. She must have given Zander his blonde hair. Hers was perfectly curled and stiffly sprayed into submission.

Her sky blue dress was starched crisp and she was the only woman in this village who bothered or dared to wear high heels. I wasn’t sure if she was crazy or if I should admire her tenacity. Her small dark brown eyes fixated on me as I stiffly stood up before her. I could feel them both watching as I rinsed out the sponges and returned the mop and broom to the closet.

I quickly bid them goodnight and rushed outside to dump the water out of the bucket. I decided to just leave it on the porch. I’d no doubt need it again tomorrow and would have to get some fresh water in the morning anyway, so I could just dump it in the creek then. The Preston’s would likely have a fit if I dumped dirty water onto their precious, freshly-cut lawn.

∞

Thankfully, the next week passed
with little interaction with Zander. My back healed well with the salves that Evelyn kept sending my way, and before long, I was able to finish the chores at the Preston house before any member of the family made it home. I dealt with Zander when I arrived as he presented his mother’s list for the day, but other than his usual rude remarks, he didn’t bother me too much. My back felt much better. Every night, Lulu rubbed more medicine into my wounds. Most were scabbed over and felt like tightly stretched stripes. Other areas felt numb or tingly.

Another evening ritual had been the evening visits with Kyan after his day in the orchards. I could tell from his expression and the way he held his shoulders that he was exhausted. Work in the fields was hard and frantic at best, and he was missing one member of his team—me.

The harvest was approaching quickly, and I was glad that my back had healed faster than Evelyn expected. I wanted to help in the orchards, help in the harvest, as I had done since Lulu had showed me how to run beneath the trees and scavenge for recently fallen apples that hadn’t yet begun to rot.

The leaves on the trees were turning quickly. Half clung to the green for dear life, while others relinquished control and turned varying shades of gold, orange and my favorite, the blazing red-orange. The entire village was hard at work and I was itching to do my part, and to get outside of the Preston home during the daylight hours.

We were coming up on harvest time. A few villagers were ordered to work outside the orchards getting the required, but mundane tasks out of the way before the harvest; when all hands would be needed in and around the fields of apple trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.  Some cut the hay that the animals would need for the winter, while others tended to the animals themselves. Some harvested vegetables from the community gardens, while others preserved that food and stored it away.

Most villagers worked in or around the orchards, now. The apples we grew would be sent to the cities. Their factories would process them or the fresh apples would be shipped to stores where the Greaters could purchase them. Eat them. They would be fed from the sweat of our brows and strength of our backs. We would nourish them. The Greaters would take and we would give. Not freely, but because we were forced, because we had no other choice than to obey, or suffer the punishment for dissidence. The punishment for treason was more than just a simple lashing. It was death; swiftly carried out and unmercifully final.