Keepsake: True North #2

  But there was a stopwatch ticking over me all the time. Lark would leave Vermont, and Audrey would return. And at some point—probably after all the season’s cider was pressed—Griff would give me the bad news. That I’d have to move on, too.

  Usually I wasn’t such a pessimist. The headache creeping across my forehead wasn’t helping.

  “These are funny-looking apples,” Lark said, picking another Keepsake off the tree. “Are they for cider?”

  “Nope,” Griff’s voice said from another row nearby. “The Keepsake is an heirloom apple. The grocery wholesalers don’t want ’em because they’re small and irregularly shaped.”

  “Just like Kieran!” Kyle volunteered.

  “Fuck off,” his brother grumbled.

  Griff continued as if they’d never spoken. “I like ’em, though. They have a nice acidity, and they keep forever. It’s not like a Macintosh that gets squishy in a week. These babies have staying power.”

  “Huh,” Lark said. “Good to know.”

  By evening my nose began to run, and my head was full-on pounding.

  “Oh dear,” Ruth said over dinner. “Here comes Zach’s fall flu.”

  “Maybe I’m just fighting something off,” I said quickly.

  “I’ll get the Motrin and heat you a cup of cider,” she suggested.

  “Thank you,” I said with a sigh. I hated being the one who was always leveled by the flu. It really put a dent in my goal to be the MVP of farm work.

  That night I stood in Lark’s doorway and told her I was going to sleep in my old bunk so she didn’t catch anything from me.

  “Come here,” she demanded from the bed. “I never get sick. It’s my special skill. And you look like you could use a little TLC.” She raised her arms, her pretty face lifting toward me with expectation.

  And I went. Never could resist her.

  She had me sit in front of her in bed, then she rubbed my neck and shoulders, and finally my scalp, with slow, loving strokes.

  I let out a loud moan, and she laughed. “They’re going to tell us to keep it down in here,” she joked.

  “Don’t care,” I mumbled. “I thought sex was good. But that’s before you ever rubbed my head.”

  I felt her smile, even though I couldn’t see it. “It’s nice to be the one who comforts you for a change. Do you get sick a lot?”

  “A couple times a year. The Shipley’s family doctor said it’s because I was never exposed to a lot of the common germs as a kid.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.” After a few minutes of heavenly attention, I repositioned myself on my side of the bed. But she wasn’t done with me yet. She curled her body close to mine and rubbed my chest. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s no big deal.” A man didn’t bitch about his aches and pains.

  I don’t know how convincing I was, though, since I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation.

  The next morning, I woke up to see sunlight streaming into the windows. I was alone in the bed. I lifted my wrist in a hurry to check my watch, but it was missing.

  Either a watch thief had relieved me of it in the night, or it was Lark’s doing. The clock on the bedside table said nine thirty.

  Shit!

  I got up fast, stumbled into my clothes and headed for the farmhouse. Through the kitchen window I spied Lark alone, her face downcast. Her expression gave me pause. But when I opened the back door and stepped inside, she lifted her chin and made her expression cheerful again. “Hi. Did you sleep?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse from disuse. “We’re supposed to be in Norwich.”

  “Kyle and Kieran went,” she said, sponging down the countertops. “They were pretty giddy about it, honestly. They said they hadn’t gotten one of those cider donuts all year.”

  “Oh.” I was still uneasy. “So who’s selling apples to the tourists?”

  “Griff, May and Dylan. Grandpa is pouring the cider samples. Don’t worry, okay?” She gave me a smile that was more genuine than any I’d seen on her face in a week. “Everything is fine. And I saved you some breakfast. It’s a weird morning anyway, because Ruth had to drive out this morning to pick up D—”

  She didn’t get to finish that sentence, because I’d pulled her into a hug. Giving her my mouth wasn’t a great idea, given that I felt even sicker than yesterday. But I dropped my lips to her neck and gave her a soft kiss. And then another.

  “You’re hot,” she said, her hand cupping my cheek and then my forehead.

  “So are you, baby,” I joked, even though I knew she meant that I felt feverish.

  Lark’s concern for my health pulled my heartstrings in unfamiliar directions. Other people had helped me before when I was sick. The Shipleys had always brought me soup and took me to doctors when necessary. Also—they never docked my pay. I don’t know why, but my paychecks were the same amount even when I was flat on my back for a few days during cider season.

  But Lark’s care felt different to me. It was tender in a way I’d never experienced. It was personal. Just for me.

  “Let’s get you some more aspirin,” she suggested, rubbing my arm.

  But I wasn’t done loving her. I pushed her up against the refrigerator and kissed the sensitive skin under her ear. Soft hands crept beneath my T-shirt in a soothing way, and I sighed as I kissed her again.

  That’s when I heard a gasp.

  Now, Lark and I usually didn’t indulge in PDA. But it wasn’t a very risqué moment, even by my standards. I lifted my head in surprise, wondering who found this behavior shocking.

  Daphne, that’s who.

  “Hi there,” I said, straightening up, trying to be polite. “You’re home for the weekend?” I hadn’t seen her since Labor Day.

  She didn’t answer the question. She just looked between Lark and me, and then back again. I took a half step backward and waited for Daphne to say something. Instead, her eyes got wet. Then she spun around and ran away.

  “Shit,” Lark whispered beside me.

  I just stood there staring after the younger Shipley daughter, addled by both confusion and a fever. “What the hell did I say?”

  “It’s not that.” Lark put a hand to my back. “Have a seat in the dining room, okay? Can you eat?”

  “Not really hungry.”

  “You? That’s it. I’m calling the paramedics. Did I mention there’s bacon?”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose I could eat.” No flu was terrible enough to put me off a few strips of bacon.

  She laughed. “Go sit. Coffee?”

  “Always.”

  I sank into a dining chair, feeling miserable. Lark brought me a plate a minute later. She’d saved me a slice of quiche and several strips of bacon. There was coffee and a big glass of ice water, and two Advil tablets.

  I picked up my fork and did my best. “What do you think that was all about in there?” I asked Lark, thinking of Daphne’s quick exit.

  She gave me a sad smile. “Wow. Thank you for demonstrating that even you can be clueless.”

  “Even me? Especially me.”

  She shook her head. “You are anything but clueless, except when it comes to teenage girls who are in love with you. She’s got it bad.”

  I set down my fork, feeling ill all of a sudden. “No. That’s just Griff’s joke.”

  “Not so much.”

  “But Daphne’s just a kid.”

  “She isn’t. Not anymore. And even kids can fall hard. I thought I’d die when my tenth-grade biology teacher got engaged.”

  My head swam as I tried to make sense of what she was telling me. “I don’t know what to say.” Or think. Daphne was a great girl. But she was Griff’s little sister. I never looked at either of the Shipley girls that way. That would just be weird.

  Lark pushed the medicine closer to me. “Take this before you give up on breakfast. And don’t feel bad. You’re pretty irresistible. Ask anyone.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, because that was just r
idiculous. But I took the medicine like she told me to.

  24

  Lark

  After breakfast, Zach went out to find Griffin and offer his services. But the moment the back door closed, I texted Griffin. Don’t let Z do anything strenuous. He has a fever.

  His reply: Got it Wild Child. Don’t worry.

  I probably would, though.

  The Shipleys had known Zach longer than I had, and they obviously cared about him. But I saw the way he always jumped out of his chair the minute there was any work that needed doing. He always put everyone else’s needs before his own. And while I had no doubt that it was mostly due to his lovely character, there was something more at stake.

  I worried that he was compelled to give so much because he was still afraid. Of abandonment. And that was no way to live.

  May entered the kitchen just as I was washing lettuce for a lunchtime salad. I’d offered to do some prep work for Ruth. “How are sales?” I asked my friend.

  “Fine. Have you seen Daphne? She was supposed to relieve Dylan and drive the tourist cart.” On weekends, a couple of the Abrahams’ Percheron horses drove tourists up into the orchard to pick apples.

  “Well, I think she might be in her room.”

  “No way. That’s just mean.” May darted out of the room in a huff, heading for the stairs.

  “Wait.” I jogged after her, catching up to her on the stairs. She turned around, surprised. “She might be upset,” I said in a low voice.

  May’s eyebrows flew up. “Because of you and Zach?”

  “He and I were having a moment in the kitchen. Nothing too interesting.” My cheeks were heating, which made me feel like Zach. “But that’s when she walked in, and…” I cleared my throat. “Seemed like a big surprise.”

  May’s face fell. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  One of the bedroom doors flew open, and Daphne appeared on the landing, her eyes red. “What are you doing up here?” she spat at me.

  “Hey,” May warned. “Don’t cop an attitude with Lark. She didn’t do anything to you.”

  “The hell she didn’t!” Daphne said, her voice shrill. She faced me. “Go home to your fancy house in Boston already. We all know you’re just slumming it here for the season. First you freak out May so bad she goes on a bender and loses her scholarship. Then you waltz in here and—”

  “What?” I gasped, my mind stuck on that last bit.

  When I turned to May, her eyes were bugging out. “Enough!” she shrieked at her sister. “You are way out of line.”

  “Me?” Daphne squeaked. “All I ever did was hold your hair when you puked. And tell the truth, which you’ll never do.”

  “Daphne,” May said, her voice weirdly shaky.

  “You don’t want Lark to know you’ve been in love with her forever? Whoops, sorry! And now she’s with him…” That last word came out sounding like pure pain. She whirled on me. “That must be fun for May to watch. I hope you take better care of him than you do of the rest of your friends. Because—” A sob heaved from her chest. “—he’s the best there is.”

  The slam of Daphne’s bedroom door was like the exclamation point on the end of a very long, very confusing sentence. May and I were left there on the stairs together while my brain quietly imploded. “What was she…?” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  “Don’t listen to her,” May whispered.

  “But…” I studied my friend with fresh eyes. “What did she mean about your scholarship?” And then there was that other really troubling implication I didn’t know how to address.

  May cleared her throat. “This spring I didn’t show up to take an exam. It was a pretty big deal, and it complicated my life. But that’s not anyone’s fault but mine.”

  The pressure in my chest argued otherwise. “Was that, uh, while I was missing?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t handle that too well.” May hung her head.

  “Why?” I pressed as the pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. “What did Daphne mean when she said—”

  “No.” May raised a hand in the air. “We aren’t going to talk anymore about my freak out.”

  “But, um.” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “Once again I’m missing something important here. Aren’t I? Why won’t you just level with me? I’m sorry I’m so slow.”

  May pinched the bridge of her nose, and then wiped tears from both eyes. “You’re not slow. There’s just no point to discussing it further.”

  My eyes began to sting, too. “Isn’t there always a point? I care about you, and I want to hear what’s in your heart.”

  “But maybe it embarrasses me to tell you,” she said quietly.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” A tear ran down my cheek. “Because I love you and I don’t ever want to cause you pain.”

  “Sometimes we cause each other pain without meaning to.” May sniffed. “Excuse me.”

  My best friend turned around, marched up to her room and shut the door.

  Numb, I walked slowly back down to the kitchen. The prep work I’d promised Ruth was still there on the counter. In a daze, I washed the lettuce and shredded it into a bowl. But my mind was a million miles away, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard.

  Daphne said May was in love with…me? Did that just happen?

  I stood there, staring at my work without seeing it, trying to sift through my memory for clues. May had once hooked up with a girl who lived on our floor of the dorm. I knew it, and May knew I knew it. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something she talked about afterward. Just like we didn’t discuss the time I had a threesome with a lacrosse player and his girlfriend in the basement of a fraternity.

  It was college, right? We tried some things and had some fun. To my knowledge, May had dated only men. All the crushes she confessed to me were on men. There were lots of those.

  Too many, maybe? Was she telling the truth about those?

  My worried train of thought was interrupted by Ruth, who came in the kitchen door. “Hi, honey,” she said with a smile. “Everything okay?”

  No, not at all. “I washed the lettuce,” I said stupidly.

  She gave me a patient smile. “Thank you. And how is Zach?”

  “Feverish.”

  “I’m not surprised. A cold that might bounce off the rest of us always cuts him down. Shall we heat a bowl of soup for him at lunchtime? I have some in the freezer.”

  “Good idea,” I said, my heart heavy. “Excuse me for a moment.” Dumbly, I walked outside, my feet pointed in the direction of the bunkhouse. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn’t come to Vermont this fall at all.

  * * *

  The next two evenings were unbearable. May didn’t look me in the eye at all. She always disappeared right after dinner, claiming she had to study. And poor Zach was sick. Both nights he fell asleep on his bunk right after dinner and slept for twelve hours.

  I spent those nights tossing and turning in my bed, alone for the first time in a while. It wasn’t bad dreams that kept me up, either. But guilt. And yet it seemed egotistical to imagine that my best friend had been harboring a secret crush on me.

  If that were true, wouldn’t I have noticed it before? I loved May, and I’d always considered myself a good, loyal friend. Yet Daphne had accused me of callous disregard for everyone’s feelings. Lately I’d become a big believer in my own cluelessness, which made Daphne’s theories easier to swallow.

  On Tuesday, Griff sent me to the Montpelier market with Zach, who was mostly recovered. Or at least he said he was. Zach looked awfully pale, and he was terribly quiet. I wasn’t great company, either.

  “Did May get her paper written?” Zach asked me in between customers.

  “Not sure,” I mumbled. Zach hadn’t noticed that May was avoiding me. He’d probably noticed Daphne staring daggers at me the whole time she was home. And now May wasn’t speaking to Daphne, either. And Daphne wasn’t speaking to Zach.

  Griff
had driven his youngest sister back to college last night. But the damage was already done. I’d come to Boston to relax, and give my parents a break from their worry. And in doing so, I’d come between several members of the Shipley family, and broken Daphne’s heart. And maybe May’s.

  “You okay?” Zach asked as we finally got into the truck to go back to the farm.

  How many times had he asked me that question this fall? A million? Shit. I was sick to death of being needy.

  I was sick to death of me.

  “I don’t need you to ask me that anymore,” I said quietly.

  “Okayyy,” he drawled.

  Since I’d made conversation nearly impossible, the ride back to Tuxbury was long and quiet.

  When we got back home, Griff met the truck and helped us unload. I tried to slip away to my room, taking my bad humor someplace private. But Zach followed me. “Hey,” he said, appearing in my doorway just after I’d sat down on the bed. “Why are you mad at me?”

  I looked up into his kind blue eyes, and my heart tightened in my chest. “I’m not mad at you. And I never would be.”

  “Then who are you mad at?”

  Me. As if I had any right to be angry with anyone else. “I’m not mad. But I’m in a tough spot. I have to go back to Boston.” The words just fell out of my mouth, but as I said them, I knew it was true. “My job…” That part was a lie, but it made for a convenient excuse. I couldn’t stay here.

  “So that’s it?” he asked quietly. “You made up your mind?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “I am in love with you.”

  My eyes filled instantly. I didn’t think he’d go there, and it hurt me to hear it. “Well, don’t be,” I said, my voice a scrape. “I’m a mess, Zach.”

  “I’m not scared of messes.”

  “I can’t be anybody’s girlfriend.”

  He stiffened. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  I really couldn’t. I’d known that from the start, too. But then I went ahead and got involved with him anyway. Once again, I’d taken when I thought I was giving.

  “Can we start this conversation over?” Zach asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “That didn’t come out the way I meant. And this isn’t how I wanted this to go.”