“We have bikes,” Griff said, brushing dirty off his hands. “Hey, Zach? You know where they are, in the back of the tractor shed?”
“Sure.”
“There’s four. You can go, too.”
“What a lovely idea,” my mother crowed.
I gave Griff the hairy eyeball. “There’s really no need to blow off a workday.”
He just smiled at me. “Have fun, Wild Child. Stay loose, Zach.” Griff chuckled and Zach glowered.
Great. Now nobody was happy with me. Poor Zach. Meeting the parents was supposed to be carefully planned in advance. And now he’d met my parents with his tongue in my mouth, only a few hours after our big night together.
Ouch. I would have to make it up to him later.
Zach dutifully walked my parents through the orchard toward the tractor shed. I tried to catch his eye, but he asked my mother how her drive from Boston had gone.
Although I’d ever entertained the thought of introducing Zach to my parents, the guy was a natural parent-pleaser with those gentle eyes and perfectly deferential manners.
One by one, Zach lifted three bicycles off the wall of the shed. “Dylan keeps them oiled and in good shape,” he promised. “The road is fairly flat if you go right out of the driveway. Left is a nice downhill, but Dylan says that getting back up it is a pain.”
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked him after he’d set us up with three bikes. My eyes begged. But Zach shook his head. “Please?” I asked. “Griff really won’t mind. We can make it a short ride.” Don’t leave me alone with my well-meaning but nosy parents.
“I can’t,” he said quietly.
“Sure you can.”
He looked up into the rafters. “No, I really can’t.”
“Oh.” There was an awful silence while I realized what Zach was saying. It never occurred to me that he’d never had a bike. Every kid should have a bike. “We won’t bike, then. We’ll walk instead.”
His eyes flared. “Go ahead, okay? Have some fun. See you later.” Giving my forearm a gentle squeeze on his way past me, he left the tractor shed. I watched through the open doorway as he speed-walked back toward the orchard and Griffin in the distance.
After he disappeared, I turned back to my parents, who were watching me. “So,” I said, clearing my throat. “That was Zach.”
My mother looked down at the bicycle under her hands. “You didn’t tell us you were involved with a boy.”
A boy. She made me sound like a child again. “He’s a nice boy,” I said lightly. “Vermont has been good to me.” I rolled Dylan’s bike out into the sunshine. “Let’s go.” If I had to spend a day being observed by the parents, we might as well be in motion.
We saddled up and I led us down the Shipleys’ drive and onto the dirt road which would take us past the bungalow and then toward the Abrahams’ farm. “There’s a swimming hole up ahead,” I said as we pedaled. “It’s pretty. I’ll show you.”
My parents rode behind me in silence, and I felt their eyes on me. But I had the breeze at my face and an open road. So I pedaled faster.
19
Zach
“You didn’t go biking?” Griffin asked when I joined him on the way to the cider house.
“Never ridden a bike,” I said, my voice gruff. “Not going to try for the first time in front of Lark’s parents.”
“Oh, shit.”
I just shrugged. Getting left out of a bike ride didn’t even make the top ten for humbling things happening today.
Griff paused outside the cider house, his hand on the doorframe. “You okay?”
“Of course.”
“It’s time to barrel my first fermentation.”
“Then let’s do it. How many barrels you need? Four?”
“Yeah.”
As Griffin opened the double doors, I went around to the side of the building to fetch the empties we’d scrubbed down earlier in the season. The oak barrels that would take the cider through its second fermentation always smelled so good. The scent was a combination of wood and fruit, with an earthy muskiness that I loved.
I rolled the first barrel into place while he hooked up the siphon that would transfer the cider from the metal tank to the barrel. We worked in silence for a while. From time to time I caught Griff stealing glances at me.
“What?” I said finally, waiting for him to chew me out for starting something with Lark.
“Do you know about birth control?”
That was not what I expected him to say, and surprise made me laugh. “Yeah,” I choked out. “And so does Lark.”
Griff had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Well, good.”
“If you’re gonna lecture me, we’d best get it over with.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not going to lecture you. Just making sure you had everything you needed.”
“We got it covered,” I mumbled as my face heated. There was no end to the humiliations today.
“You can’t blame me for checking,” Griff said. “I remember a time when you asked me what fapping meant.”
“’Cause that’s a weird word!” I argued, and Griff laughed. “Pretty sure I discovered it at the same age as everyone else.”
“Yeah?” Griff said, clamping down on his siphon now that the barrel was full. “That was probably a punishable offense where you came from.”
“It was,” I admitted. “You had to be stealthy. It was a middle-of-the-night kind of activity.”
“I’ll bet.”
“They made sure to shame the hell out of whomever got caught with his hand in his shorts.” I shuddered just remembering this. “One time a kid was jerking it behind the supply shed at just the wrong moment. One of the deacons made a spectacle of him that Sunday in church.”
I could still remember my throat constricting as the preacher railed about it from the pulpit. Every boy in my pew looked ready to hurl. “They didn’t toss that kid, though. He was only thirteen when it happened. They used him as an example instead.”
“That is fucked up,” Griff said quietly. “No wonder you weren’t in a hurry to have sex.”
That made me chuckle. “Some urges aren’t so easily suppressed. As a matter of fact, the reason I got tossed from that place was for fooling around with a girl.”
“Seriously?” Griff straightened up to his full height. “You never told me that.”
“I know.” Honestly, it was trippy having this conversation with Griff. “That is what made me not want to have sex. Sex made me homeless. And I can’t even guess what happened to her.”
“Jesus.” Griff blew out a breath. “That’s some kind of sex education.”
“True.” I checked the fit of the plug in the barrel. “Guess I prefer your version after all.”
He snickered. “Last year I tried to have a little man-to-man chat with Dylan. I got out a banana and a condom and showed him how to unroll it. He was not amused, but my dad is gone, so he had to put up with my meddling…”
I had no snarky comment to make about that. Griff took good care of his family even when it got embarrassing.
“And then I realized how sexist it was to only speak to one twin. So I took the banana and the condoms and knocked on Daphne’s door.”
Now I laughed, trying to picture it.
“Yeah. That conversation went differently. She said, ‘Let me show you this text on women’s health I read when I was fourteen.’ This thing was as thick as the phone book. Daphne said, ‘I know chapter and verse about birth control and STDs. I don’t need to discuss my vagina with my big brother, and don’t forget I’m handy with the shotgun.’ So I took my banana and ran away.”
I doubled over.
“So thank you for not threatening my life when I tried to make my little speech.”
“No problem,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“There’s always condoms in the glove box of the truck, by the way. I leave them there for Dylan or Kyle or whoever.”
“Message received.”
We worked quietly for a while. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time about getting involved with Lark.”
Griffin shook his head. “That’s not my business. I didn’t want people hitting on her when she showed up. Just out of concern for her mental health, you know? But that’s not your style, and I know it’s not like that.”
“It really isn’t like that.”
Griff lifted his chin to study me.
“What?”
“Just hope you don’t get your heart broken, that’s all. I’m not criticizing. But I don’t know if Lark’s head is in the right place. I’m sure she cares for you, but I don’t know her plans.”
I didn’t either. And it bothered me, though I wasn’t about to say so.
Luckily, Griff’s phone rang. “Could be Jude or the plumber with a question.” He pulled out the phone. “Baby!” he said. “What’s happening in Paris? Do you miss me?”
Saved by Audrey instead. I set up the next barrel while Griffin chatted with his fiancée. The sweet nothings they exchanged sounded like this: “And what kind of yeast are they using for the second fermentation? Ah, interesting.”
Right before lunchtime, Jude arrived with news from the bungalow where he’d been watching the plumbers for Griffin. “Everything looks great. I brought pictures.” He pulled out his phone to show Griffin shots of the new work.
“It’s really coming together!” Griff hooted. “Let me buy lunch, which is probably a sandwich my mother made.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We all headed back to the farmhouse. Lark and her parents were already there, helping Ruth get lunch on the table.
They’re probably perfectly nice people, I reminded myself. But it unnerved me that Lark’s family was both rich and brainy. Lark had told me that both her parents were college professors. Her father taught at Harvard Law School. Her mother studied cells in a lab.
Lark set down the knife she was using to slice Ruth’s homemade pickles. She crossed the kitchen when I appeared and gave me a pickle-scented hug. It was just a quick embrace, the same as she might give May at the end of the day. But I’ve never appreciated any gesture more.
She claimed me, right in front of her family and the Shipleys. And just like that, the worry train in my head ground to a halt.
Ruth had set up a make-your-own-sandwich bar on the sideboard. “Please dig in,” she said. “I’m just going to run the sandwiches I made for the day crew out to the orchard.”
I spotted the lunch basket near the door. “I’ll do it,” I said quickly, picking it up before she could argue. She had guests to attend to. “Be right back.”
Fifteen minutes later—after dropping off the lunch and taking some heckling from Kyle—I went back into the dining room and made myself a plate.
Griff and Lark were talking about their college days, which made sense because that’s where Lark had met the Shipleys.
“I sent a bottle of cider to that professor last fall,” Griff said. “With a note telling him that organic chemistry was coming in handy in the cider house. His reply came the following week, asking where he could obtain more samples of my chemistry. For research purposes, of course.”
Everyone laughed. I pulled back a chair beside Ruth and sat down.
Lark’s father’s gaze swung in my direction. “And were you at BU as well, Zach?”
“Uh, no. Can’t say that I was.” There was a small silence while Mr. Wainright waited for me to supply more information. But I didn’t have any to supply.
After a pause, Lark’s mother helped me out by changing the topic. “Another reason we drove up today is that you received some registered mail.” She reached for her purse on the floor and then dug through it. “I believe this is from your employer, honey. Since I had to sign for it, I assume it’s something important.”
I watched Lark take the envelope and squint at it. She ripped the strip off the top and pulled out a single sheet of paper and read it. “Those motherfuckers.”
“Lark,” her mother whispered, mortified.
“What does it say?” her father asked.
Lark dropped the page onto the table. “Three weeks. I have three weeks to either come back to work or provide a doctor’s note explaining why I can’t. Or separate from the company.”
“Can they do that?” Ruth asked, her eyes wide.
“Probably,” Lark scoffed. “And I understand why they have to. It’s a nonprofit on a shoestring budget. They can’t just cut me checks indefinitely while I try to decide what to do next. But it’s just so cold. Their legalese makes me want to punch someone.”
Griffin, who was seated beside Lark, turned in his seat and reached for her. “I’m sorry, Wild Child.” He folded her into a hug that made me itch to do the same.
“It’s okay,” she mumbled.
“What are you going to do?” her mother asked, and my chest tightened.
Three weeks. I’d always known that Lark was only here temporarily. But three weeks would pass by in a blink.
“Well…” Lark sat back in her chair as Griff released her. “I’m not sure. I’ll think it over.”
“Let’s find you a doctor’s note!” her father suggested, and my heart leapt in agreement. “How hard could it be? That doctor at Tufts thought you should continue treatment.”
“Here’s an idea!” Lark yelped. “How about we don’t discuss my doctor visits at the table?”
“I think it’s time for cookies,” Ruth said, pushing back her chair.
“I’ll get them,” I said, beating her to it. I jumped up and went into the kitchen alone. Once I got there, I put my hands on the counter and let out a breath. The stress I felt right now was a brand new thing. I was pissed off that Lark was upset, and I was afraid she’d leave. I was irritated at her employer for putting their little ultimatum in an envelope and mailing it to her like an emotional letter bomb.
The rage I felt was completely unfamiliar, and I didn’t have any idea what to do with it.
Someone else came into the kitchen, and I straightened up, trying to remember why I was there.
“Hey, now,” Griff said. He walked up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. “Where does Mom keep the cookies, anyway?”
“Cupboard over the toaster,” I mumbled.
Griff wandered to that corner of the kitchen and opened the cupboard. “Score!”
I just shook my head. Griffin was famous for never helping in the kitchen. But he got away with it because he worked about sixteen hours a day on every other damn thing. Trying to snap out of my funk, I grabbed a platter and set it in front of him. He tipped the cookie jar as if to dump them out, but I took it from him. “They’ll be crumbs if you do it like that.” I lifted the cookies one by one onto the plate.
“Don’t panic yet, okay?” Griff said quietly as I worked.
“All right,” I grunted.
“Everything might work out okay. She just needs a friend.”
“Just a friend.”
Griff sighed. “That isn’t what I meant. Just keep being there. Don’t change a thing. Hey—do you know how to make coffee? I offered to do that.”
“Seriously? And they let you?”
“Sure.” Griff shoved a cookie in his mouth and picked up the platter. “Because they knew you’d bail me out.” He offered the plate to me.
I took a cookie. And then I made the coffee.
20
Lark
I spent the rest of the day with my parents. I got into the back seat of their car—feeling just like a little kid—and accompanied them to the Simon Pearce glassblowing factory, where we watched a handful of guys about my age make eighty-dollar wine goblets from blobs of glass so molten they glowed orange.
“That looks like fun,” I said aloud. The young men had a bevy of unusual tools at their disposal. And I hadn’t realized that glassblowing was a team sport. The hipsters passed each glass back and forth on the end of a six-foot-long metal tube. I wanted to clim
b over the little barrier and ask for lessons. It was a familiar itch I hadn’t felt in a long time—the urge to drop everything and try something new.
“Let’s have a cocktail at the bar,” my father said.
With a longing glance at the glassblowers, I followed him upstairs.
* * *
I didn’t get back to the Shipley Farm until the hour when everyone in the bunkhouse would be getting ready for bed. Walking through the door of that stone building filled me with relief. This place was my refuge. Nobody asked me tough questions or gave me ultimatums.
Someone was in the shower, so I passed the bathroom and poked my head into the rear bunkroom. Zach was lying in bed already, reading a thick book with the help of a little book light clipped to its cover. “Hi,” I whispered.
He looked up and smiled at me. “Hi yourself.”
“Hi, Lark!” Kyle said from one of the upper bunks. “Did you come to give me a kiss goodnight?”
“Dream on, Shipley,” I said, crossing the room to Zach. I took the book out of his hands. “Come and visit with me. I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Kyle asked.
I flipped him off on my way out.
The book I’d carried for Zach was the seventh and final Harry Potter novel. And he was almost finished with it. “Have you read this before?” I asked as I set it on my bed.
“Nope,” he said, perching on the edge. “I know it’s a kids’ book. I read other things, too.”
I gave him a smile as I kicked my door shut. “I know you do. And who cares?” I stripped my T-shirt over my head and then took off my bra. “Harry Potter is for everyone. Not just kids.” I grabbed the oversized BU shirt I liked to sleep in and dropped it over my head. “I have the first book on my phone, and it’s what I pull out when I don’t have anything else to read.”
“Is that right?” Zach followed my every movement with his eyes. So I gave him a peek at my thong as I stripped off my shorts. His cheeks pinked up, but he didn’t say a word.