The Cherry Harvest (9 page)

Let go, I could just let go and float up to the stars. Easy, so easy
.

CHARLOTTE WOKE FROM A DREAM
of Karl climbing through her open window, his dark thick hair, wolf eyes, bare chest, spicy body slick with sweat . . .

She sat up, breathing hard, oddly aroused. Thomas stirred beside her.

“Thomas,” she whispered. “There's somebody out there. I heard something in the trees.”

She moved to get out of bed but Thomas pulled her back. “Just the wind.”

She lay next to him, listening. His arm was around her and he kissed her cheek and moved his large palm across her nightgown until he found her breasts. She quivered, then relaxed under his touch. She sighed as his warm hand moved down her flat stomach, down to her muff, which he held like a ball, moving a finger around her wetness, into her wetness, breathing against her ear. When he drew her hand onto his erect penis, she caught her breath. She loved him for that, the way his body wanted hers. She moved her hand slowly up and down the strong length of it until he crawled on top of her
and rocked into her, gently at first, rubbing against the walls of her wanting, then harder, in rhythm with her breathing, his breathing, her tongue teasing at his nipples, his face in her hair, her hands on his buttocks, pushing with him, together, rocking together, her body taking over her mind until she shook and he moaned and flowed into her and lay panting, the two of them panting.

After he finally rolled away, she lay in the dark, listening to his sleeping breath. She closed her eyes and slowly fell back to a dreamy state where Karl waited for her just beyond the window.

KATE'S OUTSTRETCHED ARM
bumped against something solid, and her icy fingers grabbed hold. A ladder? She hung on against the current. Her wet clothes weighed her down as she tried to pull herself up. At the top she collapsed on a platform, chest heaving. The lake churned in her stomach, burning up through her throat. She turned on her side, gagging.

After some time, she pushed up, sitting, bent over. She was on a dock that jutted out into the wild lake on the northern point of a bay. Far to the south the lighthouse blinked. Miles away, she thought, and home even farther. When an owl hooted, Kate looked behind her, a dense forest. Wild water in front of her, forest behind her. Wind icy around her. She couldn't stop shaking.

Looking up the beach, she saw a rowboat overturned on the shore. She couldn't take it tonight. She wasn't strong enough to fight the current rushing in the opposite direction. But she could crawl under it until the storm broke. She staggered to her feet, muscles weak and aching, teeth chattering.

What was that? A wolf racing toward her, barking. She stared
down at the choppy lake. If she jumped in again, she would surely drown. But to be torn apart by a wolf . . . !

The animal came to the edge of the dock, snarling, teeth bared.

Kate took a step back. The wolf put a foot on the dock, growling, guarding the edge, barring her way. Not a wolf, but a burly German shepherd kind of dog. Fierce and menacing.

“Jake!” A man's voice called out. “Here, Jake.”

At the sound of the man's voice, the dog stopped growling, but stood its ground.

“Who is it?” the man called as he approached, white jacket gleaming in the starlight.

Kate's lips were too cold to form an answer.

“Good boy,” he said, coming closer, petting the dog, close enough to see Kate. “What's happened to you? You're soaking wet!” He took off his jacket and fixed it across her shoulders. “C'mon, let's get you into the house. You could freeze to death out here!”

The jacket was warm with body heat and smelled vaguely of vanilla. Kate pulled it close around her. “I n
. . . n
. . . need to g
. . . g
. . . go home,” she finally managed to say.

“First we'll get you thawed out.” He put an arm around her waist and half-carried her down the dock and across a wide expanse of lawn toward a house set far back from shore, away from the wind. It was a sprawling house filled with light. As they got closer, she heard bits of music, laughter. Stumbling alongside this warm strong man, Kate tried to focus. On the other side of the bright windows, people were dancing.
Am I dreaming?

Orange and purple paper lanterns showed the way. A tall Negro wearing a white apron stood in the yard poking at something that hung over a fire pit. Kate sucked in the aroma of roasting meat.
Supper so late? Or is it tomorrow?

A shorter man approached the cook and said, “William, the guests are getting stewed. We need to feed them.”

“Yes, sir.” William was working to unhitch what appeared to be a whole pig on a spit.

“Where's our host?” He turned and saw them. “Ah, Clayton, there you are,” the short man slurred, coming forward, ice cubes clinking in a drink in his hand. “What's this, some flotsam you picked up on the beach?”

Flotsom?

“Shut up, Ronny. Let's get her in through the back.”

“You're not taking her to your room, buddy—”

“Christ, Ronny. She needs dry clothes. Help me find Peggy. This girl's taller, but about Peggy's size.”

When they came under a porch light, he let go of her waist and gave a quick bow. “Clayton Wesley Sullivan, at your service.”

He had a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and a boyish nose splashed with freckles. When he bowed, his curly dark hair dipped onto his forehead. “Call me Clay.”

She couldn't possibly manage her whole name. “Kate,” she said through quivering lips. “Kate Christiansen.”

He opened the back door and drew her in. Two girls stood in the hallway. They wore silky gowns and jewels and ribbons in their hair and had arched eyebrows, rouged cheeks, laughing lipstick mouths. When they saw Kate, they stopped their chatter and stared, eyes wide.

“Please excuse us,” Clay said.

The girls stepped aside, whispering, about her no doubt.

But Clayton was leading Kate away from them, up a back staircase, down a hall, and into a bedroom, a feminine room with pink and green pillows and satiny striped curtains, calm and inviting.

A fluffy white cat glanced up from a green divan, then returned to licking its paws, unconcerned.

Kate caught sight of herself in a full-length oval mirror.
Oh!
Her blond hair was plastered to her head, her face was a deathly white,
her clothes stuck to her tall, thin form. “I'm dripping on your floor,” she said through chattering teeth, staring down at a celery green wool rug decorated with vines of pink and plum roses.

“We'll have you fixed up in no time,” Clay assured her.

A slim girl about Kate's age floated into the room, her flouncy silk dress the color of strawberry ice cream. Her dark curls were pulled into a ribbon, accentuating high cheekbones and full soft lips. She was fresh and rich like someone out of a Fitzgerald novel, pretty in the way Clay was handsome. When she saw Kate, her eyebrows lifted in alarm.

“Ah, Peggy,” Clay said. “This sweet mermaid has washed ashore and needs a bath and clean clothes.”

“Of course. Come in. I'll start the water.”

Kate took a ragged breath, finally safe.

After Clay left, Peggy introduced herself as Clay's younger sister and led Kate to a pink bathroom large enough to live in. It had marble counters and tiles and polished brass fixtures, and it smelled like flowers. Unlike the tin tub at home, which sat behind a curtain in an alcove off the kitchen, this tub was white porcelain, long enough to lie in. Peggy turned a brass handle and steamy water poured from a spout. She tossed in a handful of salts perfumed with lilac. Kate moved toward the heat and held out her hands.

“You must get out of those cold things.” Peggy hung a white terrycloth robe on a hook, put a thick bath towel on the counter, and handed Kate a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Can I bring you anything else?”

Kate shook her head, because that's all she could do.

As Kate stepped into the hot water, her frozen legs burned, but she forced herself to sink in. Soon her blood warmed, and she closed her eyes and lay back to luxuriate in the sensuality of the scented water, so unlike anything on the farm.

Did I fall asleep?
Kate sat up with a start. The water had cooled. Rising from the bath, she slipped into the terrycloth robe and toweled her hair nearly dry, then returned to Peggy's bedroom.

Soon there came a knock on the door. “Kate?” Peggy's voice.

“Please come in!”

Peggy held out her hands for Kate. “Oh, you must feel so much better!” She opened a closet and pulled out a dress that looked like pink cotton candy. “How's this?” She held it up to Kate but didn't wait for a response. “No, I think blue.” She rummaged in her closet and came out with another. “The color of your eyes. Do you like it?”

Like it! It was a rich blue silk with a low neckline, cinched-in waist, and full skirt. Kate had only seen such luxury in magazines. She touched it. “It's too pretty for me. I just need something to wear home. Do you have any trousers?”

“You're not staying for the party?” Peggy looked disappointed.

An invitation? Kate's heart surged with renewed energy. Oh yes! She wanted to stay with this generous girl and her princely brother and the music and dancing and fancy people and everything she had never known. “I would love to stay.”

“Well, then, let's get started.” Peggy instructed Kate to sit in front of a dressing table mirror. Peggy put Kate's hair into bobby pins and then used a handheld contraption to dry her hair. Kate's hair had always been straight, but when Peggy took out the pins, she had waves of shiny blond curls. Peggy opened a drawer of ribbons, pulled out a thick blue velvet one, and tied it in Kate's hair. “Oh, how that brings out your big blue eyes!”

Kate stared at her reflection in disbelief, glowing in the mirror.

“I have makeup.” Peggy examined Kate's face. “But your skin is so clear and fresh, you're better off without it.” She opened a drawer. “Perhaps a touch of pink lipstick.”

Kate put up her lips as Peggy dabbed on the pink.

“You are so beautiful!” Peggy said, opening the door. “I'll leave you to dress. Just come downstairs when you're ready.”

Under the watchful eye of the fluffy cat, Kate stepped into the dress. In the mirror, her cheeks flushed from the hot bath, her eyes had never looked bluer. Her white-blond curls gleamed in the light.
In spite of her small breasts, the fitted tailoring accentuated her narrow waist and gave her body a sensual shape. When Kate twirled, the cat looked up and stared. Kate laughed and twirled again, the full skirt flying up around her thighs. Finally, she stepped into the peep-toe party sandals Peggy had left on the floor.