The Light of Day

by Lynne Norris

  “Hi,” green eyes said and Emma was very aware of the cool, appraising look she was on the receiving end of.

  “Nice to meet you.” Emma went with the kill her with kindness routine.

  Her attempt at being nice fell flat as Paula cut her eyes away from Emma in nothing less than a curt dismissal. “Where do you want me to put these crates, Lucy?”

  “Set them on the table by the window.”

  “I’ll be back. There’s more to bring.”

  “You have an assembly line going,” Emma said watching as they filled quart-sized containers with peppers stuffed with ground meat and sauce.

  “It’s that time of year. We have a glut of tomatoes, peppers and eggplants.”

  The back door opened and a man with metal-framed glasses walked in bringing with him the rich aroma of roasted meat. “That’s Ed. He’s in charge of the grill today.”

  “Hi.” Ed waved as he walked to the counter and retrieved two large metal pans.

  “Ed works down at the soup kitchen. Although he wouldn’t tell you himself he’s an amazing chef.”

  The door opened again and the two boys she’d seen race off the porch appeared inside the door. Twins, she realized.

  “And those two rascals,” Lucy said, “Are Michael’s boys.”

  “Jonah and Tyler. Not that you’ll be able to tell them apart mind you. Some days I just want to write J and T on their arms.” Big brown eyes, dark curly hair and angelic faces smudged with dirt peered back at Emma. Both wore shorts, one dressed in a green t-shirt and the other in black with Sponge Bob plastered proudly across his chest. “You two need to clean up before we eat.”

  One of them reached out and tugged at Lucy’s apron. “What Jonah?” Lucy asked leaning down toward him.

  He held is hand up cupping it around her ear and whispered something to her.

  Lucy listened with a serious expression on her face then straightened when Jonah finished whispering in her ear. “I see. Did you ask your father?” She cast a knowing glance at Emma and folded her arms.

  Emma bit back a smile, realizing she was probably watching a scene that played out with some regularity.

  Jonah shook his head.

  “Do you need it or want it?” Lucy asked.

  “Nana, don’t ask me that question,” Jonah protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Cause it’s not fair,” Jonah pouted.

  Lucy set her hands on her hips and regarding him with a cool expression. “Really? What’s not fair about it?”

  “I don’t want to have to think about it.”

  “Ah and there in lies the truth. So, which is it?”

  Jonah furrowed his brow in concentration. “Need.”

  “You do? Since when did wants become needs in this house?”

  “Nana,” he cried in exasperation.

  The screen door opened and Mr. Moretti ambled through. “Figures I’d find you two trouble makers hanging around the kitchen. What happened to helping your father move the chicken tractor into the next field?”

  “We already helped him,” Tyler piped in.

  “Oh you did. Did you? Jonah.”

  “Yes, Pop?”

  “Stop pestering Nana. She’s busy. G’wan, the both of you go help your father, now.”

  “Okay, Pop,” they both said and scampered away.

  Mr. Moretti regarded Emma and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Emma.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Moretti.”

  “It’s been a long time since we saw you last.”

  “It’s good to be here,” Emma said.

  “Make yourself at home. Mike and Grace are finishing up. They’ll be here shortly.” He moved closer to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. “God that smells good, Lucy.”

  “Don’t go sticking your fingers in to taste anything,” Lucy chided as she glanced over at Emma. “I have to keep an eye on all of them. They’re famous for snatching a taste of whatever’s cooking right out of the pot.”

  Emma watched Lucy laugh and look into her husband’s eyes. She saw the warmth of love and family between them. Yet, surrounded by all these people, Emma felt alone.

  She thought briefly about Kate. Emma realized that even early in their relationship Kate had never looked at her with that carefree expression of love.

  Emma looked away, gathering herself before she asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Arturo, how many more peppers do you need prepped?” Lucy asked.

  Arturo was a lean man with a wiry build. His curly, shoulder length hair was pulled back off his face into a ponytail. “At least thirty.”

  “You’ve got an extra set of hands now so it will go quickly. Give Emma a knife to use.”

  “Here’s another crate of tomatoes,” Paula announced when she walked back into the kitchen.

  “Put them on the bench. I think we may just send people home with these. It’s too much to get done today.”

  “I’ll go help Grace,” Paula announced loudly enough for everyone to hear and Emma couldn’t help wonder if it was for her benefit as well.

  Emma walked over and watched as Arturo neatly sliced the top off a red bell pepper, deseeded it and cut out the ribs.

  He set it in a large silver bowl, twirled the knife in his hand and offered her the handle. “Here Ms. Emma,” he said with a wink.

  Emma set to work. It was simple and uncomplicated standing in the Moretti’s kitchen amid the friendly banter. She sensed the connection among the group and wished for the same sense of belonging in her life.

  She’d cut ten of the juicy sweet smelling peppers when Lucy said, “Emma can you go into the pantry. I need some more garlic.”

  “Sure,” Emma said wiping her hands on a damp dishtowel. “How many do you need?”

  “Three should do.”

  Emma stepped into the pantry, never guessing what she’d find behind the heavy oak paneled door. The light that spilled through behind her sparkled off of rows of jewel toned fruit made into jams. Jars of tomato sauce preserved from the summer’s harvest lined the shelves. There were baskets of potatoes, squash and garlic lined up on the floor where the air was cooler. Emma retrieved several heads of garlic and brought them to Lucy.

  “Thanks, dear,” Lucy said when Emma handed her the heads of bulbs.

  It wasn’t long before she heard children laughing and Michael outside calling for Jonah and Tyler. “Boys it’s time to wash up.”

  Michael held the door open as Jonah and Tyler barreled into the kitchen and were immediately corralled by their grandmother. “Away from the stove both of you. I put clean towels in the bathroom upstairs,” she said looking disapprovingly at Michael. “What did you do? Roll with the pigs?”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said with a deadpan look in her direction.

  “Michael Moretti, don’t you dare. You’re all sweaty and full of God knows what.” Lucy said holding up her hands to ward off his advance.

  Michael leaned over with a roguish grin and gave her a kiss on the cheek spotting Emma across the room as he did. “Hi, Emma. Grace mentioned you were coming. How are you settling in at the lake house?”

  “It’s quiet, but it suits me.”

  “Nice.”

  “The three of you go and take a shower,” Lucy said, hustling the boys toward their father.

  Jonah and Tyler grabbed hold of Michael’s arms attempting to climb up him like a tree. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”

  Their boisterous voices receded down the hallway. Arturo leaned closer to Emma and said, “You know how to handle a knife very well. Do you cook?”

  “I know my way around the kitchen,” Emma replied aware that she was being silently assessed from across the kitchen by Rose.

  The woman had a wavy mass of shoulder length brunette hair sun kissed with copper highlights. Her face boasted round almond colored eyes and generous lips that pursed now as she watched with the possessive nature of a woman who thought her territory was being threatened.

  �
�Arturo, can you help me move this pot to other side of the stove?” Rose asked in a throaty voice.

  Arturo spared barely a glance in her direction before he answered. “It’s fine where it is.”

  “It’s not and I need you to help me move it, now.”

  Emma caught Lucy rolling her eyes toward heaven. After the pot was moved, Rose said, “We’ll be right back, Lucy,” as she directed a bewildered Arturo towards the door.

  “Take your time, Rose,” Lucy called over her shoulder.

  “Did I miss something?” Emma asked.

  “Arturo’s got a perpetual case of roving eyes,” Mr. Moretti chimed in from his seat at the table.

  “Peter!” Lucy exclaimed.

  “It’s true,” he said with a mischievous laugh.

  “But I...”

  “Don’t worry, Emma. It’s nothing you did,” Lucy assured

  her. Through the doorway Emma could hear Arturo’s insulted voice. “What’s the matter with you. I’m just being friendly.”

  “There’s friendly and then there’s your kind of friendly. One day you’ll figure the difference out.”

  The screen door opened and Grace entered with quick, competent strides. “Ah, at least one of my children had the good sense not to play in the mud today,” Lucy exclaimed.

  “I cleaned up first,” Grace said a look of confusion playing across her face.

  Lucy looked up from peeling the garlic. “Maybe you could teach Michael that trick.”

  “Sorry, it wasn’t my turn to watch him today. We need to work on the fence in the second pasture tomorrow,” Grace said to her father.

  “We’ll do it first thing tomorrow since the cows rotate there next.”

  Emma stopped cleaning the peppers long enough to get caught in Grace’s quiet regard. Her dark hair damp from the shower hung down above her shoulders. She wore a light blue Henley with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows and dark jeans that showed off her athletic body. Her blue eyes were vivid against her tanned skin.

  “I see you got put to work,” Grace said, walking behind Emma and peering into the bowl. The subtle perfume Grace wore swirled pleasantly in the air around Emma and she found herself holding still. A thrill rushed up her spine when Grace spoke again, her warm voice close by her ear. “Leave this for Arturo. Where is he anyway?” she asked glancing around the kitchen.

  Lucy stirred the sauce in the pot and said, “Outside with Rose.”

  “What’d he do now?”

  “Don’t ask,” Peter replied. “He’s getting scolded again.”

  “Come outside with me.” Grace tugged at Emma’s arm.

  “I haven’t finished yet.”

  “You’re here to relax today. Not work.”

  “You mean I don’t have to muck out the barn with you?” Emma teased.

  “Grace Marie you did not tell her she had to help you with that chore.” Lucy waved a spoon threateningly at her daughter.

  Grace winked at Emma. “Done—early this morning.”

  Lucy waved them both away. “Go. There’s not much else to do here. Did Tony tell you what time he was coming, Grace?”

  A silence settled on the room at the mention of Tony’s name and Emma wondered what that was about.

  “No. I haven’t heard from him.” Grace moved past her mother and added, “Not that I expected to.”

  “Let me wash my hands.” Emma moved to the sink and ran the water while she pumped soap into her palm. The door closed and she realized Grace slipped out just as the door on the other side of the kitchen opened and Paula walked in looking madder than a hornet’s nest.

  She didn’t know what had caused the woman’s annoyance, but she was certain she didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  “Can you set these on the tables outside?” Lucy handed Emma a basket of utensils.

  “Of course,” Emma said carrying the basket with her.

  On her way out, Emma witnessed Lucy intercept Paula and say, “Let’s get started on these tomatoes.” This only added to the level of irritation that radiated from Paula.

  A warm breeze kissed Emma’s face and carried with it a hint of honeysuckle and the smell of freshly cut grass. A strong sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her and Emma stopped on her way to the tables trying to sort out the cause of the emotions roiling inside.

  “I thought you might enjoy some time away from all the craziness inside.” Emma spun around to see Grace leaning casually against the rail of the porch observing her.

  “I didn’t see you standing there,” Emma said, wondering how she missed her.

  “You looked lost in thought when you came outside.” A smile crossed Grace’s lips as she climbed down the steps, lifted the basket from Emma’s hands and set it on the table. “When everyone gets together it can be a bit overwhelming.”

  “I don’t mind it.”

  “You’re a good sport,” Grace said with a lopsided smile. “I’ve got something I think you’ll like.”

  “What’s that?” Emma asked.

  “Come with me and you’ll see.” Grace strode toward the brick red building with oversized garage doors. Emma joined her inside. The walls were painted beige and the floor was concrete. The pungent smell of fermenting grapes hung heavy in the air and filled her nose. Grace pointed at two large stainless steel casks lying on their sides.

  “Those are two batches of wine from last years grapes. The one on the right is sweeter and the other cask has a drier finish to it. Do you have a preference?”

  “I have to confess I like the sweeter wines.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Grace said as she walked behind a bar height counter.

  “What’s this made of?” Emma asked running her fingertips along the grain of the wood.

  Grace leaned across the worktop and peered down at the wood. “Reclaimed lumber.” She reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle. “My father came across these wood doors awhile back. Someone was renovating an old house and threw them away.”

  “I bet they had no idea what they were throwing out. They’re beautiful pieces of wood.”

  “He came home with them in the back of the truck one night. He spent a couple of weeks stripping off the paint and re-stained them. When he was done, he designed and built the bar, with Michaels’ help.”

  Emma looked down feeling a pressure against her leg. “Oh, who’s this?”

  Grace stepped around the bar and peered down. “That’s barn cat.”

  “Wait, you mean he doesn’t have a real name?” Emma scratched between the tabby’s ears and was rewarded with a deep throated purring. A second later, the feline flopped over onto its side and batted her hand. “I guess you don’t want me to pet you anymore.”

  “A typical cat,” Grace said. “It’s always on their terms.”

  Emma found herself studying the long, tapered fingers of Grace’s hands, mesmerized by the corded muscles contracting in her wrist as she twisted the corkscrew and pulled the cork out. She pushed back the attraction that caught her unaware and seemed to be obliterating her common sense. Emma forced her attention to an oak barrel with a press on top and inanely asked. “Your father still makes his wine by hand?”

  “Yeah. He loves to hand crank the grapes through the press.”

  “What’s funny?” Emma asked watching the smile play at the corners of Grace’s mouth.

  “I’m just thinking how much I love to do it, too. There’s something about making the wine by hand. Here.” Grace poured the wine into two glasses and handed one across to Emma. “We do a wine tasting in the fall for the CSA members.”

  “You have a busy calendar with all these different events going on.”

  “It just becomes part of the routine. Today my mom cooks, but the people inside are helping to preserve some of the harvest for winter. They get to take a portion home and Mom gets to keep alive the traditions she likes without it consuming her whole life. It’s too much for one person to do.”

  Emma lifted the glass to her
nose and inhaled the fragrant vapors. “Mmm. I taste berries in here.”

  “Straight from our blackberry bushes.”

  “You grow almost everything that you make,” Emma said.

  “Just about.”

  “Does your mom charge for her time?” Emma asked still thinking about Grace’s mom.

  “No. Most of the people who are here work on the farm so she uses it as a way to barter with them.”

  “If she wanted to she could invite a limited number of people from the public for a fee. She could teach them a skill and they get to take home something from the efforts.” Emma gave a half smile at Grace’s curious look. “Sorry. It’s an old Wall Street habit. How can we repackage something and sell it to make money.”

  “It’s not a bad idea. In fact it’s a very good one. I’m so wrapped up in the day-to-day operations on the farm that I don’t even think about things like that in terms of being a source of income.”

  “It could be. You find a reasonable price point and promote it.”

  Grace smiled and motioned with her glass. “Well then, cheers.”

  “What are we toasting?” Emma leaned on the tabletop and swirled the ruby colored wine in her glass.

  Grace tilted her head as if in thought. “Life.”

  Emma dipped her head. “It’s been a bitch lately.”

  “My father always says there has to be bad days so you appreciate the good days.”

  “I always knew your father was a wise man.”

  Grace sipped from her glass and walked around the counter. She worked the cork back into the bottle and left it sitting on the counter. “We’ve got some time before we’re expected back for dinner. Let’s walk.”

  Emma fell into step alongside Grace as they ambled past the barn and supply sheds on their way up the hill. They walked for a while in silence and Emma took in the sounds around her. Bees and insects buzzed around them landing on wild flowers and flying off to the next with saddlebags of pollen stuck to their feet. In the meadow off to the right, a herd of cows grazed contentedly on the sweet grass.

  Emma realized she hadn’t felt the darkness sucking her energy away since she’d gotten here. Maybe it was the sunshine or the fresh air. Or maybe it was this altered state she felt being around Grace.