Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm

by Rebecca Raisin

  Brushing my teeth, I smiled when I thought about a quick stop by the café to catch up with Lil. Mornings with her perked me up for the rest of the walk to the farm.

  Grabbing my scarf and looping it around my neck, I tiptoed from the house, and locked the door. The town, in its deserted state, looked almost like it was taking a deep breath, before dawn would break. As though the store fronts were stretching, and letting out big, long, sonorous yawns with the wind whipping past, before customers would trickle in for another day.

  The yeasty smell of fresh bread baking swirled out from the doors of the café, invisible to the eye but so rich and thick, it was almost like I could see the scent dancing its way outside, trying its best to sail down to nearby houses and wake people from their dreams. I longed to sketch the fanciful idea…the sleepy town, under the cover of darkness, being woken by something as simple as bread baking. I imagined a little girl, with rosy-red cheeks warm from slumber, waking to the smell. I’d sketch her full, baby-like cheeks as seen through a window, the scent pirouetting inside her small room, as gentle as butterfly kisses.

  With a smile, and a mental note to recreate the little girl through the window, I stepped into the warmth of the Gingerbread Café.

  “Good morning,” Lil said cheerfully. “You’re just in time. Grab that apron over there and help me cut out the next batch of bobble-headed people.”

  I took a red apron off the hook and tied it around my waist. “I should warn you, I can probably mess up even the simplest task in the kitchen.”

  She guffawed. “Not under my tutelage.” Lil’s face was radiant with happiness at such an early hour. It must’ve been great to be a morning person. While I was awake, I wasn’t quite ready for the world. Lil hummed as she rolled out the gingerbread mixture, and made room on the bench beside her for me to cut out the shapes.

  “Don’t you like cooking?” she asked, as she rolled out another layer.

  “I only know the basics. I worked a lot before I came here, so my meals were more heat and eat, if you know what I mean.” I tried to make balanced meals back home, but more often than not, being time poor, we’d eat microwaved meals, served with handfuls of cherry tomatoes, and a few stalks of celery.

  “Well you have to learn then,” she said, grinning. “You can start here. Meet me in the mornings and I’ll teach you. Though they’ll mostly be sweet foods, at least you’ll know what real baking is all about. The secret is love.”

  “Love?” I raised an eyebrow.

  She flashed me a toothy smile. “Yep, it’s that simple. You have to bake like no one is watching. Just pour all your love into it, and it will never fail. Trust me.” She tapped her nose. “That’s all you have to do.”

  “OK, I’ll take your word for it.” I laughed.

  “Everyone can cook, well, unless you’re my mom, but she’s an exception to the rule.” She clucked her tongue.

  “Why? What’s she like?” I took the gingerbread-man-shaped cookie cutter and pressed it into the mix.

  “In terms of cooking?”

  I nodded. Lil’s hands flew around the bench as she talked. She could roll out the mixture, stir pots, and maintain eye contact with me.

  “Well the latest series of disasters got her banned from the café…except as a customer, and even then, I keep a beady eye on her.”

  I placed the bobble-headed people onto a baking sheet Lil had lined with parchment paper. “Oh, wow, what on earth did she do?”

  With a look at the heavens Lil said, “She knocked over my wedding cake completely destroying it the day before the wedding. Tripped over cords and cut the power to the fridges ruining all the cakes. Set fire to a tea towel, which made the smoke detectors shriek, while I was still in the process of cleaning up cakes she’d dropped. All while I was trying to get things finished around here so I could walk down the aisle. It was woeful! I managed, by the grace of God, not to strangle her. Just.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together.

  “Oh, Lil! That must have been so stressful before the wedding.” I tried to stem the giggles, as Lil managed to laugh, all the while shaking her head. “What did CeeCee have to say about it all?”

  Lil’s eyes clouded. “Cee was away. Her best friend, Janey, had come home from hospital…”

  “Is she OK, now?” I stopped and turned to face her.

  Lil bit her lip, and averted her eyes. “Sorry,” she said and plucked a tissue from a box under the bench. “It’s just Janey passed. She had cancer so CeeCee went to look after her and to say her goodbyes.”

  “Oh I’m so sorry, Lil. That must have been truly awful for you all.” I patted her shoulder, and could imagine just how horrible the final goodbye would be.

  “It was. While there was so much to look forward to with the wedding, there was that sorrow too. But you know, the whole town rallied, just like they always do when someone needs a hand. I’ll always remember that Christmas, and everything that happened. Janey’s husband, Walt, needs our help now. We take meals to him, and try to coax him out of the house. But it’ll take time.”

  “He doesn’t want to leave yet?” I could empathize. I’d often thought of my own future, just me. It was enough to make me curl into a ball, and want to shut out the world, no matter what needed doing.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. But a few days ago, Cee found him in the workshop out the back of his place. He wasn’t back to making furniture as such, but was sitting there staring at the wood like he was waiting for inspiration, so maybe it’ll happen soon.”

  It dawned on me, the first day I met with CeeCee in the café, she stared at the empty furniture store like her heart was broken in two. “So the furniture store’s been closed for a while?”

  She nodded. “We all took shifts in covering the business for him so they’d still have an income while Janey was receiving treatment. But in the end, we sold out of everything. Walt handcrafts that furniture himself. So there was no one here to make any more.”

  “How does he survive without the business?” I moved the full sheet of bobble-headed people to the opposite bench, and started filling a second one.

  Lil took a deep steadying breath. “Well, that’s what we’re all worried about. We know he needs an income and we’ve got no way to help him without anything to sell. But how can he craft furniture when he’s grieving so bad?”

  My heart ached for a man I’d never met. “I wish I could help.” The concern on Lil’s face was enough to know the man needed a miracle. Imagine losing your wife, and then your business? It wasn’t fair.

  “We’ll work out a way,” she said. “We always do. My mom, while she’s a danger in the kitchen, is really good when it comes to solving problems—maybe she’ll find a solution. She’s got a heart of gold, that woman.”

  “Must be nice having her so close.” Lil’s mom, despite her loveable faults, must have been a lot of fun to be around, and my heart ached for my own mother. To have her near, even if she upended a bunch of my oils, or knocked over a still-wet canvas, I would’ve taken that any day of the week.

  Lil stilled her busy hands, and glanced at me. “I love her dearly. She’s as batty as they come, but I wouldn’t change her. Are you close with your mom?”

  In the quiet of the café, and with Lil’s openness, I felt I could trust her to talk about my mom, my old life, the one I missed so much.

  Somehow I knew she wouldn’t pound me with platitudes. “We’re really close. Like best friends. I’ve been caring for her the last ten years or so… She’s sweet, spiritual, and always ready to laugh, despite how tough her life is. I hate being away from her. Mom had been one of those people who bounced out of bed in the mornings—she’d spring into my room, her voice sing-songy, and demand I join her outside for a yoga session. To soak up the vitamin D, she said.” It hurt, knowing her body wasn’t capable of exercise anymore. She’d cared for herself, and done all the rights things, like eat organic food and drink eight glasses of water a day, yet she couldn’t outrun this.
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  “Oh, Lucy.” Deep concern reflected in her big blue eyes. “Life is so hard sometimes. This explains the sad goodbyes you were talking about.”

  I finished my second sheet of bobble-headed people, and wiped my hands on the apron. “It sure is. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “So where’s your mom, now?”

  I averted my eyes. “Back in Detroit.” It was hard to even say the word, let alone think about it. She was so far away. “My Aunt Margot has flown in to help out.”

  “I’m guessing by the look on your face this working vacation wasn’t your idea?” Lil gave me a gentle smile.

  “No, it wasn’t. Mom asked me to make her a promise. Take a year for myself. She wants me to apply for the Van Gogh Institute in Paris, for the July intake.” I lifted my eyebrows—my way of showing it was a lofty ambition. “Mom wants me to concentrate on art, and making a future for myself but what she doesn’t understand is, it’s not the same without her. Yeah, I have to work hard to keep our heads above water, but I’d do that forever if it meant we were together. She says I have to fly the coop, and put myself first.” My words came out in a rush—once I’d opened up, they seemed to spill out of their own accord.

  Lil clucked her tongue. “You know what they say, mothers always know best. Sure, you’ll miss her every hour of every day, but maybe you do need to go out into the world and see what’s out there? And being able to visit Paris, and live there as an art student, gosh, I’m no expert, but I bet there’s probably a million people who’d trade places with you.”

  What would I find? Beautiful scenes to paint. But all that seemed hollow in comparison. “What if something happens to her while I’m gone?” There, I’d finally admitted to someone that was my fear. What if made living in the moment impossible.

  “And what if it doesn’t?” Lil said diplomatically.

  I shrugged. “I’m scared, that’s all.” It took all my strength not to cry. I knew Mom’s motives, but it didn’t make it any easier. Deep down, I worried Mom knew something that I didn’t. That maybe her condition was worse, and she was sending me away because something bad was going to happen—to spare me.

  “Sounds to me, like your mom’s got a big heart. And she must be confident in her health to ask you to take a year out for yourself. She wouldn’t send you away, if she thought something would go wrong.”

  “But she can’t really know—that’s the thing, Lil. No one knows what will happen. The doctors can make assumptions based on the past, but any moment, her condition could deteriorate. And that’s what concerns me. What if I’m a million miles away and I can’t get back to her quickly enough?”

  Lil touched my shoulder. “You’re only ever a plane flight away. Your mom must have bucket loads of inner strength, and courage, and she’s got your best interests at heart. I know how hard it is. But you have to trust her. Trust yourself. And think of it like you’re making her wish come true.”

  Making her wish come true?

  “I guess, I hadn’t thought of it quite like that.” Deep down, I think I expected a phone call by now saying, come home.

  “So why not give it a shot? Travel, work, and have some fun. It’s not like you can’t call her every day. But wouldn’t she prefer to hear you bubbly with all you’ve seen and done? Rather than treating it like some kind of forced exile?”

  Mom wanted me to enjoy myself, I knew that, but it was harder to put it in practice. “She was the ultimate nomad so this trip, I suppose, is a way for her to reconnect with her travel memories too.” It could have been the caffeine coursing through my veins, or more likely Lil’s pep talk, but the future shone a little clearer.

  Lil put the rolling pin down and dusted her hands on the apron. “I’m sure she’ll love hearing all about the Maple Syrup Farm. And of course, Ashford, small as it is.” She motioned for me to stop, and sit on the stool. She went to the counter and poured two cups of coffee.

  “She’d love it here,” I said. “Anyone would.” And it was true. I hadn’t stumbled upon a place like Ashford before. Or more likely, people like Lil and CeeCee.

  We sipped our coffees in the still of the café. “While you’re here we’ll bake and that can fix almost anything.”

  I smiled. “It surely will.”

  “Don’t you go leaving too soon.” She smiled over the rim of her cup. “We’re just getting to know you.”

  “If the job works out at the farm, I’ll stay as long as I can. The more I can save, the better. And it’s worked out really well so far, staying with Rose, and being able to wander into town easily.”

  “Handy—basically everything is walking distance here.” She laughed. “Another small-town tick.”

  “Surely there’s a bad side to Ashford?”

  Lil grinned. “Of course! It’s the home of tall tales, and century-old rivalries, but that’s just on Mondays.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. All the while wondering if I’d become part of the place, including the gossip, whether good or bad.

  Chapter Seven

  The farm rolled into view and, while dilapidated, it was still breathtaking from the road, the way the trees spanned for miles, surrounding the property like sentinels, their solemn trunks snaking upward, as though they were reaching for heaven. Snow drifted lazily down, settling on the ground like a blanket of white. Rows of maple trees lined the outermost edges of the property. Majestic old trunks climbed into the deep gray sky, their branches bare of leaves in the wintertime.

  I trudged up the driveway, ready to face another day with Mr. Gruff. My hands ached from the damage, but the pain in my back and my legs was a touch better after the long walk from town. It would take some getting used to, the sheer amount of physical work, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  I stumbled up the porch, and rapped on the front door loud enough to wake the dead so we didn’t have any more misunderstandings. Clay appeared, dressed, and firmly in place was his granite-faced expression. That attitude. Honestly, he’d definitely never get crow’s feet; he didn’t smile enough to wrinkle.

  “And good morning to you too,” I said, sarcasm evident. “You do a nice imitation of resting bitch face, Clay. Takes some practice, so you’ve gone and managed to nail it. Well done.”

  With an eye roll, he moved to the side, so I pushed past him, and went into the living room to warm up by the fire. Problem was, being covered from head to toe in plastic did have its disadvantages at times like this. I wanted to be warm, but I didn’t want to melt—it was a very fine line.

  “Do you always insult people like that?” he finally managed.

  I put a hand to my chest, and feigned surprise. “Me?”

  “You.”

  “I was merely stating a fact.” I smiled sweetly. “So what’s the plan today?” I was all for following Clay’s lead but I liked to be organized, and when you worked with someone who spoke in monosyllabic bursts, it was hard to know what the day would bring.

  “The plan is work. That’s all you need to know.” He ran a hand through the dirty blonde of his hair. And managed to do the hot guy scowl that he’d probably perfected since he was a teen. I could see girls falling for that damn bad attitude, wanting to get the cold steel of his heart, but not me. He was so gruff he was almost a billy goat.

  My plastic garb was becoming uncomfortably warm, and shrinking against the back of my legs. I took a step forward just as Clay did and we bumped into each other with an oomph.

  “That old trick, Lucy?” He cocked his cocky head. “How many times can one girl accidentally—” he made air quotes “—bump into me before it becomes obvious?”

  I gasped. “I think you’re the one with spatial issues, Clay.” I glared at him. “I haven’t forgotten the old creep up behind me like a serial killer thing! Are you trying to intimidate me? Because it isn’t working.” How did we get to this point so quickly? He had a way of making me speak up and say things I normally wouldn’t. I’d given myself a stern talking-to abou
t swallowing back retorts. I had to keep this job, but sometimes it seemed impossible. He was impossible.

  He blew out a minty breath. “Can we actually work? Or are you going to spend the day crashing into me to get out of doing anything?” With his hands on his hips, he wrinkled his brow, as if I was the one holding up the day’s progress, when it was in actual fact him.

  “You’re such a jerk,” I said under my breath, though he was standing close enough to hear it.

  “It’s been said before.” He turned and picked up some kind of ginormous hammer. “Time to rip up the floor in my bedroom.”

  I followed his muscled frame to the back of the cottage, wishing my heartbeat hadn’t sped up on account of watching the way he strode, the denim of his jeans fighting against his body. If he wasn’t so unlikeable I’d probably have appreciated the fine sight in front of me but I had a certain standard when it came to men, and bad-attitude, bad boys were not on the list. That kind of guy could only spell trouble, and I didn’t need drama.

  “What are you doing?” He turned, giving me a hard stare.

  Bewildered, I said, “Umm, helping you?”

  “Is the fence line finished?” The ivy. I’d been going back and forth between jobs, and still the ivy clung to the posts in places. The thought of heading outside in the icy winds was enough to make my stomach drop. But I’d said I’d work as hard as anyone else.