Sugar Creek (6 page)

“Rachel! Is that you?” The voice came from her right and she looked up to find an older-but-still-just-as-pretty Jenny Tolliver headed her way, smiling brightly, arms open for a hug. Rachel was thrilled to see her girlhood friend and smiled back, glad for the hug, and glad for Mike Romo to see she had better things to do than mope over him and his soon-to-be lover.

But even as she hugged Jenny and said all the appropriate things, even as she was introduced to Mick Brody—who was indeed as hot as promised—she felt as if she wasn’t really there, as if she was just watching it happen to someone else.

Because all she could really think about was how tightly her stomach still clenched—all because Mike Romo was taking some other girl home tonight.

It made no sense.

And it hurt like hell.

Edna and Rachel both stood on easel ladders beneath a Gala apple tree. Edna had suggested Rachel wear some of her work clothes, so both were clad in oversize cotton smocks and straw hats, and Rachel prayed no one would see her this way. She’d brought some old tops to wear, but Edna had insisted they were too nice for apple picking.

“Now, do you remember how to pick ’em from when you were little?” Edna asked, demonstrating on a ripe apple. “Grip, roll your hand upward, and twist.” The apple
popped free and Edna lowered it into the basket hanging from her ladder.

Rachel looked at all the apples covering the tree, then thought about all the trees filling the meadow along Sugar Creek. “Are you telling me that in this day and age there’s no better, more modern way of picking apples? No handy dandy machine or a tool that picks twenty at a time or something?”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ ya. At least not at the Farris Family Apple Orchard. We do things the old-fashioned way here.”

“Because we
like
the old-fashioned way? Or because we just don’t know about any other ways?” Rachel asked, curious.

But Edna just shook her head. “You and machines. I like to keep things simple—you know that.” Indeed she did. Rachel had once gotten Edna a computer for Christmas, mainly for e-mail and Internet access, but Edna had wanted nothing to do with it. And every time Rachel checked her Blackberry, trying to keep up with events at Conrad/Phelps, Edna scolded her and had even hidden it for a while yesterday.

“Not that I’m, uh, anxious to get back to the city or anything,” Rachel said as she found a ripe apple and proceeded with the grab, twist, and pull method, “but can you refresh my memory on exactly how long the harvest will take?”

“Well, I usually hire a few hands, but this year money’s a little tight, so I only have one high school boy, Betty Cahill’s son, comin’ to help in the afternoons and on weekends, startin’ tomorrow. That—plus the fact that I’m not movin’ as quick as usual these days,” she added, “is sorta why I called on
you
.”

Ugh. Rachel didn’t like hearing Edna was low on money—although it didn’t surprise her, given that the orchard was a seasonal business. And again, she remained
unsure whether or not Edna was faking the whole knee thing. She’d been certain of it when she’d gotten Edna’s call, and just as certain when she’d arrived. But maybe Edna
was
moving slower than usual. And climbing up and down ladders all day was pretty hard work.

“Anyway,” Edna went on, “the harvest has to be done by the apple festival, the first weekend of October.”

Rachel had gone on plucking apples, but at this, she stopped and looked up. “Apple festival? What apple festival?”

And Edna blinked, as if it were a silly question. “Why, the annual Destiny Apple Festival. It’s a big deal around here—I can’t believe you don’t know about it. Takes place right on the town square—we got apple pie eatin’ contests, bakin’ contests, bobbin’ for apples, caramel apples, apple butter, apple cider, apple sauce, you name it. People come from miles around.”

Rachel was still dumbfounded—because there’d been no apple festival when
she
lived here. “How on earth did this apple festival start? And when?”

“Well, it was
my
idea, of course.” Edna’s tone implied Rachel should have known that. “Suggested to the town council about ten years back that Destiny needed a fall event and that an apple festival was as good as any. Frankly, between me and you, the festival is what keeps me in business. Sure, I get folks who come to pick a bushel or two on weekends, but this orchard provides every apple used in every pie or fritter or dumplin’ at the festival—without it, the Farris Family Apple Orchard would be history.”

Rachel barely knew which fact to contemplate first. That she had to hand it to Edna for creating her own festival to keep the business solvent? Or that—dear God—Edna expected her to stay until October!

A few words Chase had imparted before she left suddenly rang in her ears.
Take the time you need with your
grandma, but don’t stay
too
long, if you know what I mean.
It was actually his higher-ups who held Rachel’s fate in their hands, and Chase had given the advice kindly, from concern—but it hit her so hard now that she got a little dizzy. She had to grab onto the ladder with both hands to steady herself.

“Good Lord, darlin’—you all right?”

Still holding on tight, Rachel began to feel less woozy. “Yeah, fine,” she lied. “Just lost my balance a little.”

Of course, she could just
tell
Edna—the whole thing, about her job, and that she’d expected to be leaving in a couple of weeks, as opposed to
six
, and surely Edna would understand. And even if spending didn’t sound like the wisest move right now given that she had a fifty-fifty chance of soon being unemployed, she
could
just
pay
for the usual hired hands. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d bailed out a loved one with a check.

“Well, you be careful,” Edna said. “Wouldn’t wanna lose my apple pickin’ partner.” Then she sighed, her face taking on a sadder, more confiding expression. “Ya know, darlin’, I don’t like admittin’ this sorta thing, but…reckon I’ve missed havin’ the family around me here in the orchard over the years. Once upon a time, the whole place was so full—you kids runnin’ ever’ which way—and now it’s empty. It gets a little lonely sometimes,” she concluded.

And Rachel’s stomach dropped.

The fact was, if Rachel laid it on the line about her job right now, Edna would likely say, “Why the hell didn’t ya say so in the first place?” and demand she go start packing her bags this instant. But…the very idea of Edna being
lonely
—really and truly
lonely
—ripped at Rachel’s soul.

She wasn’t sure why—because her family had
always
assumed Edna’s calls for help had to do with her being lonely. But somehow
this
—hearing Edna say it—made it
real, and a little heartbreaking, in a way Rachel hadn’t felt before. And the fact that Edna had actually acknowledged it…well, from confident, no-nonsense Edna, it was a confession of epic proportions.

So to leave Edna
now
, for
any
reason, would feel like…abandoning her. Emotionally. Not that Edna usually seemed fragile in any way—far from it.

Except for what she’d just said.

And…except for that moment Rachel had told Tessa and Amy about, when Edna had smiled and said how nice it was to have her here. Something in that simple smile had looked…almost girlish, childlike. Something in it had touched her far more deeply than she’d thought matter-of-fact Edna could.

And suddenly Rachel understood why. Stubborn, ornery Edna wasn’t always so tough.

Rachel let out a breath. She knew she couldn’t leave—not now, and not even in a couple of weeks. Her job was extremely important—but at this strikingly candid moment, Edna was
more
important. And if Edna needed her until the apple festival, well…she’d have to stay until the apple festival. Her heart demanded it.

Her heart. Sheesh. She’d not expected her
heart
to get involved when she’d come here just a few days ago. But already, something here—whether it was Edna, or her friends, or the town itself—was softening her. Just a little.

Which was a pretty big revelation—no one who knew Rachel would ever call her soft, or sweet. But she just tried to steady herself, push all those thoughts from her mind, and come back to the matters at hand: picking apples and spending time with her grandmother. And wrapping her head around the idea that this was her life until October.

The weather remained warm, but the apple trees provided enough shade that, along with a breeze sifting through the trees, the day was comfortable. And the work
was punctuated with the occasional buzz of a passing bumble bee and the fluttering bits of color provided by butterflies in the wildflowers that lined the creek. And when Rachel stopped to soak all that in…well, to her surprise, it was almost enough to make her forget all
about
her job. For a little while, anyway.

“Times change in Destiny,” Rachel mused to Edna without warning, “but they don’t really change
here
, do they? I mean
right
here, in the orchard. I guess nothing much has changed about these trees, or picking the apples, from when I was little. Or maybe even since you came here.”

She looked over in time to catch a another uncharacteristically wistful expression crossing Edna’s wrinkled face. “Maybe that’s why I like this time of year so much. It’s a lotta work, and a rush to make sure the apples all get harvested, but you’re right—standin’ on this ladder…well, if I didn’t know better, I could close my eyes and believe it was the first time I ever picked apples here next to Sugar Creek.”

Rachel watched as Edna did that then—closed her eyes, one hand on the ladder, the other pulling on the apple she already had in her grasp. Another happy, girlish look overtook her and Rachel wondered what she was remembering.

When Edna opened her eyes, Rachel asked, “When was it, your first year here?”

“Nineteen fifty-eight. I was eighteen years old. And so in love.”

Wow. In Rachel’s whole life, she’d never heard Edna talk about being in love. It shook her a bit. Perhaps because…well,
she’d
never been in love. And Edna had known what it felt like at eighteen? Although Rachel had never aspired to all that traditional love-and-marriage stuff, for some reason, it almost made her a little envious.

“With Grandpa Farris,” Rachel chimed in, feeling wistful herself now.

So when Edna said, “No, with Giovanni Romo,” Rachel nearly fell off her ladder.

She turned her head. Stared. “Wait. Who?”

Edna tossed her a sly glance. “You heard me.”

Rachel barely knew what to say. Edna had never mentioned any man but her late husband, Edward Farris, who’d died when Rachel was fifteen. But as she caught her breath, she had a feeling this was a good time to ask, “Um, how exactly did our feud with the Romo family start?”

Edna resumed picking apples and said, “You never heard this story, huh?”

“No. By the time I was old enough to wonder, I’d moved away. And I once asked Mom, but she didn’t really know, either.”

“Well, let me start by sayin’—it wasn’t entirely my fault. But the Romos never quite saw it that way.”

“Let’s try here.”

Edna’s older brother, Dell, pointed at the silver mailbox sitting on a wooden post at the end of a pretty little lane. Staring back through the trees, she could see the path led across a creek to a little white house. They’d walked at least a mile since their truck had broken down and this was the first home they’d come to, so it seemed the obvious place to look for some help.

Her other brother, Wally, spit on the ground, then stuck his thumbs in his suspenders to hitch up his overalls, before he said, “Destiny my ass.”

“Don’t cuss, Wally,” Edna scolded him, but his scowl told her it was the wrong time for scolding. And she couldn’t blame him. They were all in bad moods for lots of good reasons.

The three of them had driven the old family truck up from Kentucky looking for work. It was that or send the boys to the coal mines now that they were of age, and
Daddy wouldn’t hear of that. But there were five more children at home and not enough money to keep everybody fed come winter—let alone get shoes for school. So they’d decided Dell, twenty-one, and Wally, nineteen, ought to strike out for Ohio and see if anybody needed farm hands. Edna had decided to come, too, claiming she could hoe a row or dig up taters or shuck corn as good as any boy—and besides, she’d never been more than twenty miles from the farm. So it had seemed like an adventure. And when they’d passed by a sign telling them they were in a place called Destiny, well, it had felt a little magical. “Here,” she’d said. “Here’s where we’ll find what we’re lookin’ for.”

That had been about two minutes before the truck sputtered and died. And about an hour after the last time they’d been turned down for work. They’d stopped at farms and in towns, at produce stands and even churches, all the way from the Ohio River north, with no luck. “Told ya we shoulda gone to Cincinnati,” Wally said as they crossed the bridge on foot. “We coulda got work there for sure.”

“Mama didn’t want us in the city,” Edna reminded him.

“Well, Mama ain’t the one tryin’ to put food on the table right now, is she?” he snapped, and Edna ignored him, peering down at the pretty stream below, at the water rolling gently over the stones, washing them clean. It was a peaceful sight, and frankly, she could use a little peace after Lord knew how many hours in a truck with Wally.

The bridge led to what Edna thought was the prettiest little farm she’d ever seen. The white house had fancy carved trim all around the front porch and gable, and the drive led farther back to a bright red barn. A small grove of apple trees set across the lane, and behind the house was a huge garden—she even saw some grapevines along a fencerow. The moo of a cow told her there
must be a pasture full of cattle, maybe behind the barn where she couldn’t see. And looked like somebody had been busy loading fresh hay into the barn, getting ready for winter—just like she and her brothers were trying to do. “Well, ain’t this nice,” she said.