Keepsake: True North #2

  “This is the only way it can go.”

  “Why?” His voice cracked a little on the word.

  Damn it. You had to give him points for honesty. Another man might try to protect himself—to back away from the sentiment. But not Zach. He was the best kind of person in the world, as Daphne had said.

  And I was the worst. He didn’t get it. But it was high time that he did. “It’s not about love, Zach.”

  “It is for me.”

  “You knew I was only here for the picking season. What did you think would happen?”

  His eyes reddened, and he turned the question right around on me. “What did you think would happen?”

  This. May had warned me. And Daphne called it.

  The dragons in my heart blew their noxious breath. Again. And now I was too tired to hold them back. I needed to leave Vermont before I caused this beautiful man any further pain.

  “It was just sex,” I lied, unable to meet his eye. “That’s all. It was good, but it’s over now.”

  The first second after I inflicted this wound was all shock—mine as well as his. His face turned an angry red. Then, after another two beats of my heart, Zach finally turned his face away from me and walked off. A second later I heard the bunkhouse door slam.

  Steady, I coached myself. It’s better this way.

  On shaky knees, I got up and closed the bedroom door. Then I opened the desk drawer and pulled out the Boston letter demanding my presence next week. I also took out every paycheck the Shipleys had written me, and I tore them in half and dropped them into the wastepaper basket.

  Then I sat very still on the bed and tried hard not to cry.

  25

  Zach

  Manual labor. That was the only thing I was good for right now.

  Luckily, another silver birch had managed to fall in the night, angling its papery trunk from the forested windbreak on the north border of the farm across the cow pasture. Luckily, it had taken out a section of the old split-rail fence.

  I stood there swinging the ax with more force than was strictly necessary, happy when a satisfying chuck of wood went flying away from the cut. I wound up and swung again.

  “Whoa, killer,” Kyle cautioned. “Lemme go get the chainsaw. We’ll make quick work of that.”

  “I got this one,” I muttered, waiting for Kyle to clear out of the way so I could swing again.

  “What’s eating you?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it.

  Kieran had to pipe up then. “Lark giving you heartburn? Now that I think about it, you’re smarter than all of us. You went twenty-three years without girl trouble.”

  My chest tightened, and I was seconds away from dropping the ax and walking away.

  “What does she want from you?” Kyle pressed.

  “Nothing. That’s the problem.”

  “Hey, Griffin!” Kyle yodeled. “C’mere. Zach has woman troubles!” Of me, he asked, “Was she just looking for a quick round of fun? That happens sometimes.”

  Lord, that was all I could take. Dropping the ax, I said, “It’s not like that.” It wasn’t, either. In my gut I knew Lark wouldn’t just toy with me. Something was wrong, and she wouldn’t tell me what.

  Oblivious to my discomfort, Kyle followed me. “Then how is it like?”

  Ugh. Spilling my guts to him wasn’t on the agenda. “I thought we could be together. But she thought differently.”

  “So she fucked you and then abandoned you? That’s cold.”

  “You know,” Kieran put in, “women have been getting that treatment since sex was invented. You’re the rare dude who’s getting a taste of that medicine.”

  My answer came through gritted teeth. “I knew I was special.”

  “That’s a tough break, man,” Kieran said with real sympathy. “You want to get drunk later?”

  “Now that you’ve had your first breakup, you might as well drink,” Kyle suggested. “Comes with the territory.”

  “Shoo, morons.” Griffin waved his cousins away and picked up the ax. “Don’t listen to those two,” he said, lining up his own whack at the tree. “On the subject of women, they’re as useless as tits on a boar hog.”

  Griff swung, and I watched the ax bite into the pale yellow wood. “I don’t know what’s troubling her, and it’s killing me.”

  Griffin swung the ax again, dislodging another chuck of wood. Then he knocked the wood chips out of the cut with a kick of his boot. “I told you already. Lark is too raw right now to make good decisions.”

  My heart sank. “She’s pushing me away, so I can’t even help.”

  “Give it time, Chewie.” He clapped me on the back. “That’s something you can give her, right?”

  “She’s going back to Boston.”

  “Boston’s not that far away.”

  “That’s not the song you were singing last summer.”

  Griff’s face fell. “I know you’re having a rough time. But so is she. If you really care about her, you gotta hang in there.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I know you will, because you feel it deep. Here.” Griff patted his own chest. “Trust me when I say it’s never the wrong thing to put yourself out there. I know you don’t trust people very easily.”

  “Sure I do,” I sputtered.

  Griff raised a bushy eyebrow at me. “Uh-huh. That’s why none of us can get a straight answer out of you when we try to talk to you about the GED program or the job for Maker. You want Lark to open up to you, right? But something scared her so bad she can’t do it. You of all people should understand.”

  I just sort of stood there, choking on this idea, glaring at him. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “Yeah? Then why do you look like you want to puke every time someone asks you what you want to do with your life? Nobody is going to give you the boot, Zachariah. I like seeing your face every day, and you have this job as long as you want it. You can stay in my bunkhouse until you’re Grandpa’s age if you want, and then my kids will probably make you move into the farmhouse.”

  Griff handed me the ax, and I took it, dumbstruck.

  “But don’t tell me you’re not afraid of being alone. We all are. It’s fucking terrifying. I hope you don’t lose Lark for good, man. That would blow. But you’ll still have the rest of us to kick around, no matter what.”

  And then his cell phone rang. He gave me one more piercing Griffin stare, then pulled it out and answered. “Hey, Isaac. What’s up?” I heard him laugh. “Yeah, one more week until my princess comes back.”

  He walked away, leaving me standing there with an ax, a fallen tree, and my jaw hanging open in surprise.

  26

  Lark

  Night fell while I made my plans to leave Vermont. I called my parents and told them I was coming home, possibly tomorrow. They made all the right noises, then asked me what I was going to do about my job.

  I told them I didn’t know.

  Next, I cleaned the room where I’d stayed all fall. Then I cleaned the bathroom I’d shared with several men. I threw away the little sign inside the plastic bag in the shower stall. Warning: these are girlie-scented products. Use them and you’ll never hook up again. I packed away my pink razor.

  When I was done, the room was a man’s domain again, with nothing but their giant bottle of bargain shampoo and the straight razor Kyle used for shaving, because he thought it was macho.

  My preparations were done, except for one important thing. I still needed to talk to May, but I could do that tomorrow morning.

  Griff interrupted my preparations by knocking on my door. “Wild Child.”

  “Yeah?” I called, sounding guilty to my own ears.

  “Turns out I need you at the Hanover market tomorrow.”

  “Um…” I opened the door. “I was going to head back to Boston.”

  “Go on Friday,” he insisted. “Something’s come up at Isaac’s so we’re down a man again. It’s always something around here.”
r />   “All right,” I said slowly. “But—”

  He cut me off with a wave of one of his big hands. “Do me this favor?”

  “Okay. Sure.” It gave me more chances to talk to May, anyway. I didn’t want to leave here without apologizing to her.

  I tried to do that after dinner when we were both putting away the washed and dried dishes. But May waved me off. “I wasn’t kidding before. We’re never having that conversation.”

  “But you’re avoiding me,” I pointed out in a whisper. “We’ve never avoided each other before.”

  Her eyes closed for a second and then opened again. “Maybe I just need some space.”

  Ouch. “I’m going back to Boston in a couple of days.”

  Her hands paused on the silverware in the rack. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

  Her calm response was worse than if she’d just yell at me and tell me I was a shitty friend. I wanted her to tell me the things that best friends confided in each other. I needed to know what had happened in the spring, and if Daphne spoke the truth.

  Did I even have a right to ask? I’d been the same kind of shitty friend since I’d stepped onto the property two months ago. I didn’t tell her the scary things in my heart, either.

  Claiming homework, May went upstairs as usual. Kyle and Kieran wanted to watch one of the Bourne films, and Zach had disappeared. So I watched half of an action movie with Kyle and Kieran, then slipped out to head for bed alone.

  I still didn’t love walking through the moonless night to the bunkhouse by myself, but I did it. The place was quiet when I ducked inside. I stood there a moment, staring at the closed door to the mens’ bunkroom, wishing I could see Zach’s face.

  Please be okay, I begged from the hallway outside my room. But I’d already forfeited the right to ask if he was.

  Tiptoeing about, I got ready for bed. Sleep would not come easily, not with Zach just ten paces away. I closed my eyes and imagined his warm body curled beside mine. If I’d met him at a different time in my life, he might be lying beside me right now.

  If only.

  I studied the ceiling boards, each one outlined with a shadow cast by my nightlight. Before this fall, I hadn’t needed a nightlight since I was six years old. I was so, so sick of being afraid of everything. So I pushed off the covers and tiptoed over to switch it off.

  Lying down again, I stared into the dark. The glowing numbers on the digital clock were sufficient to outline the room. I wasn’t afraid. I was, however, lonelier than I’d been in a long while. My eyelids began to feel monstrously heavy. I was just so tired. But that’s good, I told myself. Tired people sleep better. With one more sigh, I rolled over and gave in.

  * * *

  Six hours later, I woke to the familiar sound of Zach’s watch alarm going off. My sleep-coated mind offered up no memory of when he’d arrived in my room, or what bad dream I’d failed to fight off.

  But I did remember with painful clarity the last conversation we’d had, and how awful I’d been. And even so, one of his hands was pressed sleepily against my spine, the way it always was when I’d been dreaming. I squeezed my eyes shut, horrified to have woken him in the night. Again. And even after the horrible thing I’d said to him, he’d come to my rescue anyway.

  Hot prickles began to form behind my eyelids. Why did he have to be so fucking nice?

  I held perfectly still like the coward that I was. I felt a tear slide from each eye, but luckily my back was to Zach.

  There was a grunt, and the sound of Zach fumbling for the button on his watch. I held my breath, waiting for him to roll off the bed and leave. But that’s not what happened. Instead, he rolled over to curve his body around mine. He swept the hair off my neck and nuzzled me softly under the ear. “Take care of yourself today,” he said. Then he kissed me very gently on the neck.

  Oh, hell.

  I clenched my fists against the desire to roll over and dive into his arms. My next breath came as a sob. Great. I couldn’t even stonewall someone the right way.

  But Zach didn’t call me on it. He just wrapped his arm around my waist and held on tightly while I swallowed my tears and evened out my breathing. Calm, I ordered myself. Right now.

  Later today we were scheduled to do the Hanover market together. I didn’t know if I could stand it.

  Behind me, Zach sighed. He stroked my wrist with the pads of his fingers. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay,” he added, just to prove he could read minds.

  He got up then, dropping one more kiss onto my hair. And the air felt doubly cool against my back when he was gone.

  27

  Zach

  When it was time to go to the Hanover market, I was surprised to see Griffin appear to load up the truck with me.

  “It’s the two of us?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Lark is coming, too.”

  That put me in a foul mood. Did Griffin not trust me to sell apples with Lark without a babysitter? Like I might lose my ever-loving mind between now and six p.m.?

  I didn’t say a word about it, though. That wasn’t my way. And when it was time to leave, Lark appeared and climbed into the back seat, leaving Griff and I up front together.

  It was a long drive.

  Griffin parked the truck at the edge of the Dartmouth green in Hanover, where tents had already begun to sprout in one corner of the big grassy square in front of the old library. Hanover was usually my favorite market. The bustle of college students made the people-watching fun here.

  Usually. But today things were just plain uncomfortable.

  Lark hopped out of the truck first. Before Griff could follow her, I asked him a question. “If you were coming to the market today, why the heck am I here?”

  “Isaac asked me to lend him your services this afternoon. Leah has to leave the market after setup.”

  “Oh,” I said stupidly. “Okay.”

  “Is that all that’s on your mind?” he asked. “Seems like you’re carrying a heavy weight today. Lay it on me.” If I wasn’t mistaken, he almost looked amused.

  I had the unusual urge to punch him. But of course I didn’t. “Look…” I cleared my throat. “There are only a couple more weeks until the markets shut down. So I’ve been meaning to ask you about your winter work plans. Specifically—how is it that they, uh, include me?”

  “Work doesn’t stop when the markets finish,” he said. “You know that.”

  “Sure. But if Audrey’s coming back to help you run the cider business, what will you need me for?”

  Griff chuckled. “Oh, Chewie. Yeah, Audrey is going to help me experiment with some new fermentation techniques. That’ll be a hoot, but it doesn’t change the workload at all. Especially because Audrey and Zara are going to open a bakery and coffee shop in one of the outbuildings next to the Gin Mill.”

  “Oh,” I said slowly. “Another new business?”

  “Yup, and I’m sure you think we’re insane. But Zara needs to manage a business that operates in the daytime hours. She’s figured out that you can’t run a bar with a kid, unless you have live-in help, which she does not. Audrey’s going to bake the pastries. That’s part of what she’s getting out of her Paris studies. And since Zara’s brothers live on the property, they can pitch in if Zara’s overwhelmed.”

  “I see. So you’re going to help them get that running over the winter.”

  “Of course. And that will be happening while we do the usual pruning and make twenty percent more cider than last winter with the apples I’m buying from an orchard in the Champlain Valley.”

  “Damn, Griff.”

  “Yeah. You’re gonna want to sign up for that GED class just so you can sit down a few hours a week. The job is yours as long as you want it. Now let’s go sell some fucking apples.”

  We got out and began to set up the stall, while I made sidelong glances at the source of my heartbreak.

  It wasn’t easy to set up three tables and fifteen crates of fruit
and cider without looking anyone in the eye, but Lark gave it her best shot. It was just a few minutes to three, and the customers were already milling around, getting ready to pounce. Lark taped the correct signs to each crate of apples that I brought over, while Griffin balanced the scale.

  Look at me, I inwardly begged her. But she didn’t.

  “Hello! Lovely girl!” I looked up to see Linda, the aging hippie woman who sold hand-dyed skeins of yarn. She was our neighbor at both the Hanover and the Norwich markets. I had never been sure if “lovely girl” was a nickname just for Lark, or if Linda called everyone that. “Could you help me for a moment?”

  “Sure,” Lark said, ready to help. “Are we setting up your table?”

  Linda leaned slowly down to tilt the folded table off the ground. Lark extended the legs, banging the locks. Together they raised the table into place. “Is something the matter with sunshine boy?” Linda asked. “He’s not right today.” She turned to gaze at me.

  Crap. I must be wearing the face of a storm cloud.

  “I guess so,” Lark said to her shoes.

  Linda shook her head. “You know, if I were twenty years younger…” She gave me a saucy wink.

  That made me smile. If Linda were twenty years younger, she’d still be old enough to be my grandmother.

  I stole yet another look at Lark, and got caught this time. Her guilty eyes met mine before skittering away.

  I was still so angry at her for pushing me away. This was my first broken heart, and I didn’t know how to mend it.

  A child rang the bell to start off the market, and customers swarmed.

  Leaning out of our stall, I looked down the row. In the space where the Apostate Farm booth should be, there was only green grass. “Isaac isn’t here yet,” I pointed out to Griffin. “That’s kind of weird. What did you say they had going on today?”