by Lynne Norris
Grapevines appeared bare and grey in the wintertime, but each spring green shoots appeared heralding the longer days and the promise of cascading grapes throughout the summer. The orchards were filled with apple, pear, cherry and peach trees. The peaches were short-lived this far north, but were delectable when they came into season. The rest of the land was used to grow a variety of vegetables four seasons of the year, with the aid of two forty-foot long greenhouses.
Grace’s father, Peter, came from a long line of farmers. When they were growing up, she and her brothers would feed the livestock every morning before breakfast. In the winter they would trudge through the snow and frigid darkness to the barn where the inside was warm and humid from the bodies of the cattle. They cut open bales of sweet-smelling hay and pitched them into troughs or piles on the dry floor. In the summer, the cows roamed the pasture or woods grazing on more exotic vegetation.
Her father gave up the dairy cows when he could no longer compete with the mechanized dairy conglomerates that took over the industry. Back then he raised fifteen head a year for meat, slaughtering, dressing and selling them to neighbors in the valley. Each cow weighed about five hundred pounds and the cuts of meat sold for an average of two dollars a pound when she was a child. Now it averaged seven dollars a pound. Her father would keep a cow to feed the family for the year. They grew enough hay to cut and bail for the cattle to eat through the winter. The rest they sold, bringing in about twenty thousand dollars a year.
They raised an average of seventy chickens that were used as roasters or fryers. They were sold when they were eight weeks old for ten dollars a head. In addition they kept sixty chickens as layers. They produced four-dozen eggs a day. It was their job when they were kids to collect the eggs and place them in cardboard cartons. They were set out on the shaded front porch and neighbors came and helped themselves, paying three dollars a dozen. All of their meat was pastured raised and although they didn’t slaughter their animals on the farm anymore, Grace and Michael found a local butcher who was willing to do it for them and was USDA certified. Grace had been to his operation on many occasions and was impressed with the cleanliness and humane methods he used.
She’d been to other slaughterhouses with her father when she was a child and remembered crying at the horrible conditions the animals were kept in until they were ready to be killed.
Through the spring and summer vegetable fields produced beans, carrots, onions, broccoli, lettuce, tomatoes—anything that could be brought to the local markets to sell. The family used the rest of the harvest to supply their needs. The greenhouses supplied them with fresh lettuce and greens year round and extended the growing season for a variety of other vegetables as well.
Her father kept two pigs, one to slaughter in the spring and one in the fall. They had ham, pork chops and bacon the year round. What they didn’t keep they sold. She remembered him saying to her, “Feed a pig for a year and it feeds you for a year.”
There was something to do all year and the tasks differed depending on the season. Within reason, her father let them choose the work they wanted to do in the fields, the woods or the barn. Grace learned that if any crop failed or livestock took ill there were other things to fall back on. There was depth and security to his management plan. Far better than the large mono-crop industrial farms or the people who worked one job and were one disaster away from bankruptcy.
Her father taught them how to clean and cut the fallen trees from winter storms with chainsaws. They would pull them down the hill with a tractor where they cut and split the wood. They would stack eight cords to dry to heat their home and the remainder they sold by the cord to people in the valley.
After delivering water, Grace steered the black Ford F-150 up the dirt drive to the barn. Hers was an unusual upbringing from the rest of the kids she grew up with. How many times she was made fun of at school because of what her parents did for work? She threw herself into sports and made a name for herself. Her achievements hid the hurt of being seen as a farmer’s daughter.
Sadie and Max whined and bristled with anticipation when Grace climbed out and walked to the tailgate. When Grace opened it, both dogs sat while she unclipped their safety harnesses. She ruffled the fur at the base of their necks.
Max and Sadie gazed into her eyes with a look of eager anticipation.
“Did you have a good ride around town? Did you?”
Both dogs pressed against her. “Yeah it was a good ride. Wasn’t it? Except for the stupid fan belt that needs to be fixed. Everyone within a quarter mile can hear us coming.”
She hugged the dogs close to her and then let them go. They were both from a pet rescue organization. She wasn’t sure who rescued who, but she was glad for their company. Constant loyal companions, they were never far from her side. Sadie hopped out first followed by Max. Noses to the ground they sniffed intently and trotted around the yard in overlapping circles. One of the barn cats lying in the heat of the sun stretched and yawned. When Max wandered too close the cat sprung to its feet, hissed in feline defiance and trotted away. A quick glance around told her the tractor was gone which meant Michael was trolling around in the upper fields with the farm hands harvesting vegetables for the next farmer’s market.
Grace hadn’t slept enough last night and barely felt like she was operating on all cylinders. Out of habit, she checked on the pigs and the chickens before walking towards the pastures closest to the barn to check in on the cows. They were contentedly munching on the tall grasses, their tails switching away at the flies that pestered them.
Grace leaned on the fence rails letting her thoughts roam. Emma Chamberlain was the last person she expected to run into today. Grace didn’t recognize Emma at first, but the New York license plate clinched it. Dressed casually in khaki shorts and a Brown University t-shirt Emma looked more petite and vulnerable than Grace remembered her from high school.
Nothing about Emma had Grace’s gaydar up. Almost two decades had passed since high school and Grace wasn’t about to pretend she knew anything important about Emma. Grace did know a couple of things about Emma Chamberlain though. She drove a Mercedes, wore no rings and according to her mother was recently laid off from her job in New York City. Leave it to her mother to find out the details.
Getting sidetracked in her thoughts, Grace stopped in the barn and busied herself with small chores feeling slightly irritated that the image of Emma kept working its way into her consciousness.
Maybe her lack of sleep explained her unexpected reaction to Emma, she thought, as a yawn overtook her. She felt ridiculous having almost allowed herself to turn into an emotional mess in front of someone she hardly knew.
“Well, look at this. This is one of the nicest views I’ve had all day.”
Grace jerked up from her bent over position and let go of the heavy stall mat she was repositioning. “You’re not working today. What are you doing here, Paula?”
“I didn’t see you at the farmer’s market,” Paula said and slid into the stall beside Grace. Paula wore a form fitting turquoise cut-off tank top with her impressive breasts straining against the too tight fabric. Her blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun with wisps trailing about her ears. A diamond stud twinkled at Grace from Paula’s pierced navel. Paula was a recent addition to their paid employee roster. She had responded to an ad Mike placed to fill a vacant position.
“We must’ve just missed each other.”
“So...” Paula angled her body so her breast brushed Grace’s arm. “You didn’t answer my question yesterday.”
“What question was that?” Grace couldn’t squeeze past her without brushing up against some part of Paula’s body.
“If you like to ride bareback.” Paula dipped her head and smiled. “I bet you do. You have the muscles in your legs to hold on tight. I can see that.”
“Paula. I...” Paula’s hand slid up Grace’s thigh and cupped her through the fabric of her jeans. “Jesus.” Grace grabbed her hand and pulled it away as her clit throbbed and w
ent hot. “Let’s just hold on a minute.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I plan on taking way longer than a minute with you.”
“You’re funny.” If Paula kept rubbing against Grace reminding her how long she’d been celibate for, she wouldn’t last sixty seconds. “Paula, you work for us. I don’t think it’d be a good idea for us to get involved.”
“I’m not looking for a commitment here. I just need someone to satisfy my needs,” Paula breathed in Grace’s ear and nipped the soft flesh of her ear lobe. “You let me know if you change your mind.”
Paula dragged her fingers suggestively across Grace’s thigh before she turned and strode out of the stall, her hips wiggling in her skintight jeans as she crossed the barn. “You know where to find me.”
She waited until Paula disappeared through the doors and then said, “Sweet Jesus.” Grace tilted her head back against the wall and let the tension she felt between her legs fade away. “Michael, I’m going to kill you for hiring that woman. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.” With a sigh, she headed back down toward the farmhouse deciding she would make a pot of coffee to help her get through the rest of the day.
Grace was surprised to see Tony’s black Porsche parked next to the farmhouse. Still feeling churned up and edgy, Grace climbed onto the porch and removed her dirty work boots. From the kitchen she heard her brother’s voice. He was on one of his harangues about getting their father to sell the farm. Her chest tightened with anxiety and Grace wished he would stop harassing them about selling the farm.
The kitchen was a splendid mix of old and new, traditional and modern. It was an L-shaped room. At one end was the open fireplace built by her grandfather and was still used to grill meat and bake bread. Along one adjacent wall was an industrial size stove, across from it was a double sink and the refrigerator.
The other side of the kitchen held a large rectangular table where her mother was sitting and Tony was leaning against the counter deep in a monologue.
“Didn’t know you were stopping by today,” Grace commented catching her mother’s troubled eyes on her way to the sink. She turned on the faucet and scrubbed her hands with soap and water.
“I was out this way for a client. My afternoon meeting cancelled so I decided to stop by.”
“This far west of Boston?” Grace asked.
“Hey, you know kids drive into the city to score some drugs or raise some cash from stolen—allegedly stolen—property at the pawn shops.”
Grace took a brush to her nails, her preference for a quiet conversation with her mother fading. It was no secret that Tony was an aggressive defense attorney with a reputation for winning cases that the prosecution would often tout as slam dunks.
“Did you eat anything, Grace?” her mother asked.
“I will,” Grace replied offhandedly still hoping for calm and civil.
“I found a builder who’s interested in the property,” Tony announced with his arms folded over his chest.
Grace snorted, imagining Michael’s reaction to this.
“What is this the second one this month? We’ve been through this before Tony. We’re not selling the farm.” Grace dried her hands on one of the dishtowels trying to keep her voice neutral.
“As I recall, that’s not your decision.”
“It’s not yours either.” Grace tried to keep her voice even “I think Mom and Dad have been pretty clear about their intentions.” The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the argument they’d gotten into three months ago. Her mother ended up in tears and was hospitalized for three days from the stress it caused her.
“They’d sell it for the right price and you know it. Maybe you’re worried you’ll lose your place to live since you’re not working anymore.”
The words stung and Grace seethed.
“I do an honest day’s work everyday.” Grace removed a can of coffee grounds from the refrigerator and set about making a pot of coffee. “Do you remember what Dad told you about selling the farm?”
“Why don’t you listen to your sister, Tony?” Lucy said.
“The minute we sell part of this land and some developer builds on it we’re going to have all the runoff from the construction site polluting the soil. It’ll never be the same.”
Tony furrowed his thick eyebrows and sarcasm oozed out of his mouth. “Do you actually believe you’re going to keep running this farm profitably?”
“We have been. We’ve got a growing CSA membership and...”
“Don’t give me that crap about community supported agriculture. We’re talking about millions of dollars if we sell this albatross,” Tony said.
“Albatross?” Lucy asked, her voice lifted an octave higher and Grace feared she might cry. “How dare you say that to me. The home I raised my three children in is a nothing more than an albatross to you?”
“Mom, no...I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony said trying to walk back his thoughtless remark.
“Way to go, Tony.” Grace clutched the edge of the counter with her hands until her knuckles turned white. “I can’t believe you. The only thing you’re thinking of is how you’re going to get your hands on the equity in this place. It’s Mom and Dad’s house and they’ll stay here on this land for however long they choose to.”
“You just want them to keep it because you and Mike are living here now.”
“Living and working here,” Grace snapped.
“Tony, stop it. Just stop all this talk about selling the farm,” her mother pleaded.
“I’m telling you if you subdivide it you’ll make millions. You and Dad would be set. You wouldn’t have to worry about what you’re going to do when you can’t take care of the farm anymore. If you wait the market could turn and you’ll never get the money out of it you would today.”
“Tony you talk like your father and I have one foot in the grave. Your father inherited this land from your grandfather. Farming is in your father’s blood. It’s what keeps that man alive. The plan is to keep it in the family and pass it on when we’re gone.”
Undeterred Tony plowed on. “There’s no money in farming. The money is tied up in the equity of the land and buildings on it. What are you going to live on when you can’t do this anymore?” Tony folded his arms and leaned back against the counter assuming a bored expression on his face. “Look what happened when Pop got hurt. Grace gave up her job to help out. Now you’ve got two of your kids back home.”
Furious, Grace wheeled on him and said, “Hey! Don’t you dare say it like you’re upset about my decision to come back here to lay a guilt trip on Mom. I came back because I wanted to.”
“Right.”
Temper whipped up inside of Grace and her voice turned icy. “Don’t start with me, Tony. You know damn well I’ve been coming back to work here on weekends and school breaks for years.”
“It was always your failsafe.”
It took every ounce of Grace’s self-control not to respond to Tony’s barb.
Lucy stood between them. “Both of you stop fighting. Your father and I are not in any hurry to give up this farm. It’s more than just the money. We have a large extended family in the community. They depend on us.”
“You’re getting older and soon this farm is going to be—is already too much for both of you to handle.”
“We have good employees. Grace and Michael are doing a fine job managing the operations.”
Tony snorted. “Michael doesn’t know his ass from his elbow around here. What happens when these two get their lives back on track and decide they don’t want to run it anymore? Talk to Dad about the buyer Mom. I don’t know how long this guy will be interested,” Tony insisted, refusing to let the topic go.
“I have no intention of telling him. He doesn’t need this added to what he’s already dealing with physically.”
“Here’s the guy’s business card. Call him.” Tony pulled the card out of his wallet and laid it on the table in front of Lucy. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I have
to go. Bye, Mom.”
Grace watched her brother walk out the house. “He’s such an ass,” she said when his footsteps faded.
“Grace, he’s your brother. Don’t talk about him like that.”
“Mom, please. How can you defend him?”
“He’s my son.”
“He’s been an expert in how to manipulate people since he was old enough to figure out how to talk. It’s just typical of him to blow in like the wind, create chaos and then leave once he’s gotten everyone agitated.”
Lucy reached out and held Grace’s arm. “Perhaps that happened because he was the youngest and your father and I allowed him more latitude than we did you and Michael. I won’t deny that there were times he got away with more than the two of you did.”
“If he got away with more it’s not because you turned a blind eye. He was good at covering his tracks and quick talking his way out of situations.”
“I’m not sure I like what you’re saying, Grace.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I suppose,” Lucy replied. “I’m afraid Tony got this idea that we would sell the farm and divide the money up between us now because that’s what one of your father’s friends did.”
“The O’Dells. I remember them.”
“I don’t know what possessed Frank to give the money to his kids before he died.”
“Last I heard they’d spent it all.”
“Yes I heard that too. It’s turned into an ugly situation.” Lucy rubbed her temple. “Your father’s not going to sell the farm.”
“I know he doesn’t want to sell it.”
“Maybe it’s Tony’s way of dealing with what happened to Peter. If we sell the farm and move, all this goes away and he doesn’t have to be reminded of what happened or worry about what might happen.”
“You still have to live somewhere. It might as well be here.”
“I know you and Michael feel that way and I appreciate that.”
Grace laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m going out to check on Pop. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lucy reached up and squeezed Grace’s hand. “Go make sure Tony doesn’t upset your father and don’t you pay him any more mind today. He knows he can get under your skin and he takes any opportunity he can to do so.”