The Cherry Harvest (26 page)

“I can get around.”

Josie nodded.

All was quiet.

“Why don't you two go out on the porch?” Charlotte finally said. “I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

Josie stood and watched as Ben pushed aside the afghan and pulled his crutches from behind the couch. He led her slowly to the front door.

When the door closed behind them, Kate whispered, “It's not
fair. It's not fair what happened to Ben! I want to help him, but I don't know what to do.”

Thomas emptied his pipe. “He needs you to be a good sister, as you always have been.”

“He needs you to be strong, Kate,” Charlotte added. “He needs all of us to be strong. We must go on, as always.”

KATE WAS CARRYING MILK PAILS
to the house the next morning when she saw one of Ben's old high school chums riding his bicycle down the lane. She hurried into the kitchen and put the pails on the counter and went out to the back porch to greet him. “Craig!” she waved. As he came closer, she saw he had a patch across an eye. His face was caved in on one side.

He stopped at the porch and put down his bicycle. “Hey, hi ya, Kate.”

“Craig! Great to see you!” She moved forward and gave him a hug. “How are you?”

“I'm okay,” he answered from the good side of his face. “Heard Ben's home.”

“Yes! He's in the barn.” This was wonderful, just what Ben needed, a friend who would understand what he went through, someone to share it all with.

Kate watched Craig walk his bicycle to the barn, heard Ben call out in welcome. She wondered about bringing them iced tea but decided to leave them alone.

After some time, Kate spied the two of them walking side by side, Ben on his crutches, Craig pushing his bicycle. Laughing. Craig slapped Ben on the back. They shook hands. “See ya, buddy.” Then Craig rode off down the lane.

When Ben came into the house, he shook his head. “Poor guy. Lost his face. Can you imagine?” After a pause, he smiled. “He's going to round up some of the other guys who've seen action, get us a poker game going.”

“Great. That's just great, Ben.”

“Okay,” Ben said. “I'm going out to see if Father wants any help.”

“No . . .” Kate hesitated. He might run into the PWs in the orchard. “I'd love your advice. I'm . . .”
I'm what?
“I'm putting in a new flowerbed out front.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ben grinned. “Let's do it.”

JOSIE ARRIVED LATE IN THE MORNING
, and when she sniffed and pulled out her hankie, she said she had a cold. Kate noted her friend's blotchy skin and swollen eyes and judged that it wasn't a cold at all. Still, Josie wore a fresh pink dress and her hair was neatly waved. A good sign.

In the barn, Ben was whittling away, whistling.

“Look who's here to see you,” Kate said.

He grinned, smoothed his hair. “Hi ya, Josie.”

“Hi.”

Ben picked up his crutches and moved forward. “How 'bout we go to the cottage?”

“Come with us,” Josie whispered, tugging Kate's sleeve. So Kate followed the two of them down the path through the cedar trees. Josie held awkwardly to Ben's right arm, a crutch between them.

It was a balmy day, the sun bright on the lake. The well-trampled pine needles were soft under Kate's bare feet, each step emitting a spicy fragrance.

“Wait until you see what Josie's done,” Kate said. “Everything's so pretty.”

Approaching the cottage, Ben stopped and looked about. “Flowerbeds. Those are new.”

“I love flowers!” Josie said, perking up.

Josie and Kate had transplanted wildflowers from the woods and meadows. Those that hadn't died came up again in the spring, and now the yard held beds overgrown with buttercup, marigold, pansies, and mounds of downy purple phlox.

“Come see.” Josie led Ben to a patch of wild strawberry she was encouraging along the edge of the woods.

Ben beamed. “My little gardening genius. I had no idea.”

“I like making things pretty,” Josie said. She didn't acknowledge Kate's part in it, but Kate tried not to mind. She just wanted them to be happy together.

Inside, Josie showed off the newly painted kitchen—yellow and white. She opened freshly scrubbed cupboards ready to be filled with dishes and dry goods. “Do you like it?”

“I'll build a pantry for you,” Ben said, motioning toward an empty space between the cupboard and the icebox.

Josie looked up at him, a loving look. “I'm glad you're home.” She opened windows, and the soft lake breeze filtered in along with the sweet music of songbirds. “We'll need curtains. Kate will help make them. Right, Kate?”

“As soon as you choose a color.”

“What color would you like, Ben?” Josie asked. “Yellow or white?”

“What the hell does it matter!” he barked, his shoulders up, wary.

Josie backed away, fear in her eyes.

“Ben!” Kate touched his arm.

He shrugged her off and turned away. “It's just . . . sorry.”

“What happened?” Kate asked.

He covered his eyes. “After the grenade went off . . . curtains
blowing out like they were alive and . . .” He took a breath and whispered, “Not yellow. I don't want yellow.”

Josie moved toward him and slipped an arm around his waist. “It's decided, then. White lace. Got that, Kate?”

Kate blinked away tears. “Got it. White lace.” She was amazed at Josie's finesse.

“Let me show you the back room,” Josie said.

In the bedroom, Ben touched the quilt and pillows Josie had brought in. He glanced into the mirror the two girls had hung. He sat and bounced on the bed, patted the spot beside him. “C'mere.”

Josie squinted toward his stubby leg and turned away. “Let's go to the porch and sit in the sun.”

Ben's cheeks flamed, but he picked up his crutches and followed her.

Josie perched on the wide bench swing. Ben sat beside her. Kate leaned against the wooden railing.

“You like what we've done?” Josie asked.

Ben put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You bet.”

They were silent for a while, watching the lake. A ship off on the horizon plied its way slowly north.

“Where d'ya think it's going?” Josie asked.

Ben stared into the distance, solemn. “Probably taking war supplies somewhere.”

“Well, I'm glad
you're
not going anywhere.” Josie hugged his arm.

He pulled away and put his hand into his pants pocket. He brought out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. Josie didn't ask for one—maybe she didn't want him to know that she smoked—so Kate didn't ask either.

“We need some music,” Josie said.

Ben sucked in deeply on the cigarette.

“If we had electricity, we could get a radio,” she went on. “D'ya think we could get electricity down here?”

He blew out smoke. “Sure. I'll pull an extension from the house.” He didn't sound excited about it.

“You can do anything, can't you?” She put her head on his shoulder, then sat up straight. “And when we have a radio and you get your leg, we can dance.”

Ben's eyes clouded. “Yeah. Sure.” He took a puff on the cigarette.

Kate was feeling uncomfortable, a voyeur. “I've got things to do at the house.” She pushed off from the railing.

“See ya, Kate.” Ben's tone perked up. He gave Josie a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered something in her ear.

“No, stay!” Josie rose and grabbed Kate's arm, pleading.

Kate didn't want to stay, but she sensed panic in Josie's voice. She returned to her position against the railing.

Ben frowned. Josie sat back on the swing, not quite as close to Ben as before.

“Say, why don't we go swimming?” Ben said.

Josie's eyes widened in alarm. She shrank away.

“Whatsa matter, afraid to see my leg?” He fingered the big safety pin. “I can show you right now.”

Josie put out her hands against the sight. “No, that's not it. No, not at all.” She floundered. “I just thought . . . maybe it would be hard for you to swim . . . until you get your new leg anyway . . .”

“I can do anything. You just said it yourself.” He reached for his crutches.

“Not now,” Josie said. “I'd have to go home to get my bathing suit, and my mother . . . she doesn't know I'm here.”

“What'd you need a suit for?” Ben smirked and whispered loud enough for Kate to hear. “You didn't mind getting bare naked with me before.”

Josie's face colored. “That was at night,” she whispered.

“So what are you hiding? Night, day, what does it matter?” He sniggered. “If you're my girl, I can see you any damn time I want.”

“Ben! Stop it!” Kate cried. “If I were Josie, I'd slap your face!”

Josie stood, lips trembling, and blinked back tears. Kate put an arm around her friend.
How frightening it must be for her, how embarrassing
. Was this what the war did to men? Kate thought of Clay—polite and tender. But Ben used to be like that too.

“C'mon. I'm sorry.” He started to rise, then sat down again. “I'm used to kidding with my buddies. That's what comes natural now. I need to get over it. That's all. I'll get over it.”

Josie sniffed. “How long will
that
take?”

“C'mon.”

Josie sat on the edge of the swing.

Kate had to do something. “How about if we play Monopoly? I'll go get the game.” Ben loved Monopoly.

“That would be fun,” Josie said.

“Nah, I don't want to play.”

“Cards, then. We could play Hearts or Gin Rummy . . .” Kate said.

Ben laughed. “One of the guys had a great deck of cards, pinup beauties. Not the kind you see in posters. Hah! Pokerface we called him. He was good at it.” Ben was quiet for a bit. “Poor kid got hit bad. Wonder if he's still playing.”

“I've never played poker,” Kate said. “Why don't you show us how?”

“Nah, it's not for girls.”

“Then what
do
you want to do?” Josie said.

He poked her side and leaned in. “You know what I want.”

Josie pushed his hand away and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

Kate's stomach lurched. What
would
he do if he were alone with Josie? Kate shared her friend's anxiety, yet she knew that Ben needed Josie to help him get back to his old self. “Let's talk about your wedding,” Kate said, trying for a light tone.

“Yeah, let's get married.” Ben squeezed Josie's thigh. “How about tonight?”

Josie slapped his hand away. “You have to be nice to me or I won't speak to you anymore, let alone marry you.”

Ben's jaw tensed. “Well, then. Maybe you better go play Old Maid.”

Josie jumped off the swing.

He grabbed for her, tried to tickle her. “C'mon, Josie. I was just teasing.” His tone softened. “You know I'm a kidder.” He stood and moved toward her. He touched her cheek, her shoulder.

“Oh, Ben!” Josie hugged him, crying. He kissed her hair.

Kate turned away and walked down the path toward the house, resisting the urge to look back.

KATE UNFOLDED THE LINEN NAPKIN
on her lap to protect her white summer dress and bit into the messy barbecue beef sandwich. She closed her eyes and savored the dark smoky flavors, and when she opened them, Clay was watching her. She dabbed her lips with the napkin, embarrassed to be caught in such an unladylike moment of enjoyment.

They sat at an outdoor table overlooking Kangaroo Lake. The sky had cleared and the evening held that rich loamy after-rain scent of damp earth and roots and wild grasses. Loons bobbed on the lake's surface, diving down and coming up somewhere else.

When Clay had picked Kate up earlier, he'd asked about Ben.

“Lost a leg?” Clay repeated. He looked startled at the news.

“The Army's making him a new one.” She rushed her words. “He says he'll be fine.” She wiped away tears.

Clay put an arm around her.

“He doesn't want anyone to worry about him. But how could he possibly be fine?” Kate wanted to ask Clay's advice about how to help Ben. She looked at his tense jaw. No. It was too close, too close
to his own coming war. Besides, this was their last night together before he left, and she didn't want to spoil it. Clay squeezed her hand. They were quiet on the drive to the roadhouse, and once there, they didn't speak of it again.

Dusk had shifted into a magical blue-gray twilight. Stars peeked out here and there. And then the moon rose full.

Clay's Navy whites shone bright. I must be glowing too, Kate thought. With Clay's admiring eyes on her, she felt beautiful. She sipped her beer and licked foam from her upper lip. “After the war, where do you want to fly?”

“Everywhere.” He gazed off over the lake. “California, Mexico, Argentina—”

“That's South America!”

He laughed. “New Zealand, Australia . . .”

“Gee whiz! I wonder what it's like in Australia.”

“That's what we'll find out.” He took one of Kate's sticky hands and kissed her fingers.

We?
Oh yes! “I could write about it.” She had never thought of writing about faraway places. “I haven't read any novels about Australia, or Argentina. Maybe I'll be the first—”

“That's what I like about you, Kate. You just head right into life like an aviator into a storm.” He grinned. “Bare feet and all.”

“Could we go to Cornwall, where Daphne du Maurier lives? She's an author I like. Do you think we might visit her?”

“If you want to visit her, we'll do it.” He touched the tip of her nose.

Was this really happening? Were they really talking about a future together? Kate was too excited to eat any more. She took a swallow of beer and closed her eyes to hold the moment.

“Look there,” Clay said. “Is that an egret?”

She squinted at the tall blue bird stalking the shore. “Great blue heron.”

“Smarty pants. That's what you are.”

When a gentle breeze lifted the ends of her wispy hair, Clay smoothed a palm along her hair and cheek. “Smarty panties.”

Panties. Kate was wearing the silk lacy ones Josie had given her for her birthday, which for months had lain wrapped in the original tissue paper, hidden in the back of her underwear drawer. She was used to heavy cotton ones; these were so light she felt naked under her dress. Yesterday in the cherry shack Clay had led her hands to his belt before she got scared and stopped him. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too. She hoped he had one of those rubber things the girls at school talked about because she certainly didn't want to get pregnant.

Kate didn't know what had happened between Ben and Josie after she left them in the cottage, but the next day, when she went to the bedroom, the sheets Josie had brought were still fresh, unused. The cottage smelled of wildflowers.

Wild. She smiled into Clay's eyes, sipping her beer.

His hands grasped hers across the table, his face serious. “You know I'll be leaving tomorrow.”

The great blue bird rose up from the shore, spreading its wide wings, and drew its reedy legs together like a rudder and glided off across the still lake.

ON THEIR WAY HOME
, Kate asked Clay to park the car near the cherry shack. She took off her sandals and led him barefoot along the edge of the woods to the cottage. “Do you mind waiting here? I have to run into the house for a few minutes.”

Clay had never asked Kate why she didn't invite him in to meet her family, and she was glad of that. Her parents would have too many questions, reasons she shouldn't see him. He was older, an “out-of-towner,” as Mrs. J had suggested, not to be trusted.

It was after nine. Mother, Father, and Ben were sitting in the parlor.

“How was the party?” Father asked. A party given by one of the girls at school. A lie. Kate hadn't asked the girl to cover for her. As long as she was home in time, she knew they wouldn't check. Their focus was on Ben now.

“It was nice.”

“Glad you're home,” Mother said. “We were just going up to bed.” She put away her sewing and rose from the couch. Father emptied his pipe into an ashtray and followed.

“I'll be along.” Ben sat on the couch under a reading lamp, a tray of carving tools on his lap, whittling away at a figurine.

Kate sat close. “What are you making?”

He rotated the figure, a carving of Josie's head.

“Wow, I can see her,” Kate said. This would be a good time to talk with him about Josie and their plans. But Clay was waiting. She faked a yawn and stood. “See you in the morning.”

“G'night, Kitty Kat.”

She went up to her room and closed the door. After stuffing pillows under her covers, she climbed out the window and down through the branches of the oak tree.

Clay came forward along the path and took her arm. “Sweet little place you got here.”

Crickets sang from the trees, mating calls.

Once they'd settled on the cottage swing, Clay pulled out a flask and handed it to her. The two beers Kate had drunk at supper had gone down easily. The whiskey was harsher. He offered her a cigarette and lit it with his own. She drew the smoke into her lungs, and Clay put an arm around her, sweet and gentle. She gave the swing a push with her foot. They were quiet for a while, his warm hand on her bare shoulder, his hip next to her hip, his thigh touching hers. The gentle lapping of the lake. The slow squeak of the swing. The first star. She closed her eyes and wished for Clay forever.

He sucked in the last of his cigarette and flung it onto the grass. “I'm going to miss you, Kate.”

“Me too.” It came out in a whisper.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. When she kissed him back, he opened the top few buttons of her sundress and his palm brushed across the filmy fabric of her bra.

Kate's nipples came erect at his touch. Her insides rushed down in a flood of desire, and she couldn't help but move her hips toward him. He put a hand under her dress and moved it slowly up and up until his fingers played along the lacy edge of her panties and then teased around that spot, that embarrassing wet spot, and she sighed.

“Oh!” There, right there, the touch she didn't know she longed for.

He rose and put his arms beneath her knees and shoulders and carried her through the door, into the cottage, into the bedroom, and gently lowered her onto the bed.

Moonlight from the window softened the small room around them.

He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his white trousers and let them drop to the floor. His shirt and undershirt followed, exposing that strong deep chest she remembered, the dark curly hair diving down in a V.

Dressed only in his boxer shorts, he knelt over her and opened the remaining buttons on her dress. She arched up to help as he pulled it over her head. Exposed in her bra and panties, she slid between the sheets and he gently pulled the top sheet down and touched her skin, his face serious.

“I don't want to get pregnant,” she breathed.

“Don't worry, my love.”

My love!

When he took off her bra, he sucked in his breath and put his hands on her breasts and then his lips, his mouth. His hand moved down her tummy, under the waistband of her panties, his fingers in her pubic hair, finding that place. Swirling a finger in that wet place, pushing his finger up into her. Moonlight in his eyes.

When he lay beside her, he brought her hand to his shorts and she touched the warm thickness, full and alive. She watched his face, his eyes half-closed, dreamy, mouth open. And she grabbed it, pulled on it, wanting him, wanting him.

“Easy,” he said, husky voice. He pulled off his shorts and showed her the way, touching it up and down, slowing her hand. Then he reached to his trousers on the floor and came back with the rubber thing and pulled it down over the length of him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. Rapid breath. Excited eyes.

She could barely speak. “Yes.” Her skin warm and tingling, her heart beating loud, her breath uneven.

“Oh!” When he moved into her she tensed.

“Sure you're okay?”

She nodded because she didn't want him to know that it hurt, tugging at her insides, burning.
What am I doing wrong?

He must have known because he slowed and kissed her and touched her breasts and breathed into her ear. And she relaxed, and then it didn't burn so much and being so close—
Is this really happening?
—so close to Clay, wanting to please him. Her arms around him, his skin hot and slick. He moved faster now, burning her insides with his excitement, then he shuddered and cried out, straining.

He breathed hard, then slower, slipping out of her. He opened his eyes and kissed her face. He took off the rubber thing, and then his body returned to her, warm and solid, his arms around her. She pulled the sheet over them, together.

His face lay on the pillow next to hers. A hand in her hair, then on her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

She smiled.

“Good night, my sweet Kate.” His eyes closed, and he was soon asleep, breathing softly beside her.

It had all led to this. All the beautiful suspense—the weeks and weeks of suspense—and these last few days—it had all led to this. She
had expected to be marvelously content, like Amber in the book, but she only felt chafing pain and a rousing restlessness.

She lay awake in the moonlight, afraid to move, afraid to wake her lover, watching him as he slept. Dark curly lashes against his pale skin, tiny cinnamon freckles dotting his nose, a sleepy smile lingering on his lips. It must have been what he'd expected.

WHEN KATE OPENED HER EYES
, there was Clay, propped on an elbow, waiting for her. He brushed stray hair from her face. “You were dreaming.”

She blinked awake, mildly conscious of the illusory world she was leaving. “Where do we travel when we dream?”

He kissed her forehead. “This is my dream, right here with you.”

The night was warm. She was sore down there and hot from their coupling, sweaty. “Let's go down to the lake.”

He groaned.

“C'mon, lazybones.”

Outside, they ran naked to the beach and paused on the shore, holding hands. The lake lay velvety still before them. Moonlight dusted rippling waves like diamonds.

Kate dove out across the surface and turned and floated on her back. Clay was soon floating beside her.

“It's cold!” he said.

She laughed and moved her arms in a slow backstroke. “Do you know the stars?”

“Tell me.” He followed her pace.

She pointed out the Pleiades, Little Dipper, Big Dipper, Milky Way. “If you listen, you can hear them.”

“What are they saying?”

“They're saying, ‘Look at those beautiful lovers on the lake.' They're jealous. Wouldn't you be?”

A sudden flash of bright light pierced the sky. Then another.
Vivid green and blue streaks. Puffy clouds tinged pink. The lights got brighter, more intense.

“Wow!” Clay grabbed Kate's hand, floating together now. “I've never seen anything like that.”

“They're showing off,” she whispered. “Northern Lights. Aurora borealis.”

The colors changed and grew and saturated the huge dome of sky with an electric green, vivid and close.

“It's you,” he said. “A reflection of you.”

“It's us.” She laughed. “You and me together.”

They swam to shore and walked to the cottage, to the bedroom perfumed with wildflowers, and pulled the sheet up around themselves beneath the breeze of the open window. Kate closed her eyes, content now, and breathed in the earthiness of the night.

SHE WOKE WITH THE SONGBIRDS
. Sunrise already. She kissed Clay's cheek, and he opened his eyes. He ran his hand along her torso.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

When his hand moved toward her breasts, her nipples tightened and she felt the wetness down where it was still sore, but not so much now. He kissed her lips, and she clung to him. Yes, not wanting to leave him, kissing him back, her mouth open.