The Cherry Harvest

by Lucy Sanna

  “Well, I have some news.”

  For once Kate was grateful for Josie’s self-absorption.

  Josie took a folded paper from the jacket she wore over flannel pajamas. “I have a letter from Ben, in Italy.”

  “I’ve always thought of Italy as romantic,” Kate whispered.

  “Romantic?” Josie gave a sarcastic laugh. “He’s in the mountains, freezing.”

  Kate shivered from within the big coat. She was freezing too, but her warm bed was only half a mile away.

  Josie held the lantern to the pages and read about hiking up an icy trail. That was followed by a blacked-out section. “You can imagine what the Army doesn’t want us to know. The strategic positions, the danger, boys dying.”

  “Poor Ben!” Kate longed for her brother to be home.

  “See here, where the black pen smooched—‘ . . . buddy . . . lost . . . crippled . . .’ He can’t even tell us how he’s suffering over there. Does that sound romantic?”

  Then she read aloud the part that wasn’t blacked out, about Ben loving Josie, wanting her. “I’ll never forget our last night at the cottage—” Josie brought the pages to her lips.

  Kate leaned in. “What night?” She stared at Josie’s face and saw a secret reflected behind those dark eyes. They’ve done it!

  Josie put her arm through Kate’s. “I like to think of you as my sister.”

  “What did you do in the cottage?” Kate was both fascinated and fearful. After all, this was her brother. She didn’t want to think of him like that.

  “You’ll know one day. You’ll find someone. Then you’ll know how beautiful it is to love.” Josie closed her eyes, her face pointing toward the stars.

  Kate saw tears running down her friend’s cheeks. “He’ll be back soon,” Kate said. “That’s what Mother says. She senses things, things that come true.”

  Josie sucked in on her cigarette before she spoke. “Ben’s so popular. He must have had a lot of girlfriends before I came to town.”

  “Girls were interested in him, sure, but Ben didn’t pay much attention.” When the school bell rang after the last class, Ben would go right home. “He had chores to do.”

  “But when he met me . . . did he ever say why he chose me?”

  Kate recalled the potluck supper that had welcomed the new lighthouse keeper and his family to the community that summer, the square dance at the armory. Josie’s flirtatious eyes and the way her body moved in a snug tease of a dress that promised something exotic, mysterious. She didn’t know how to square dance, so Ben took her into a corner and taught her the steps. She stayed with him all evening, even through the slow dances. Other boys cut in, but when the band played the final number, she was with Ben.

  Then came the August hayride. Boys and girls piled into the wagon, enveloped together in a dusty fragrance of hay and autumn leaves. When the driver gave a whistle, the horses clip-clopped down the road. The glow from the full moon edged every tree with silver. One of the boys strummed a guitar. Josie snuggled in next to Ben against the breezy night air, and soon his arm was around her shoulders, their heads close.

  At the beach, the football captain lit the bonfire. After the cheers died down, the fellow with the guitar played and everyone sang along—“Fools Rush In,” “When You Wish Upon a Star,” and other favorites from the Hit Parade. Though Kate sat with them, Ben and Josie sang to each other as if they were alone, Ben’s strong tenor harmonizing with Josie’s husky alto. Ben put an arm around Josie’s waist and drew her to him, his eyes shining in the firelight.

  The next day, Josie arrived at the Christiansens’ dock in her father’s motorboat. Kate ran down to meet her.

  “Ben told me you like to read,” Josie said, handing Kate a dog-eared pocketbook.

  “Fanny Hill? What’s it about?”

  “It’s filled with secrets,” Josie whispered conspiratorially. Before she could say more, Ben came strolling down the dock, smiling. Josie motioned for Kate to hide it. “Go and read it now.”

  Kate put it into her sweater pocket and left the two of them alone.

  Yes, it was full of secrets, and the beginning of a friendship. A loner by choice, Kate trusted Josie to advise her about intimate things she didn’t dare ask anyone else, and Kate reciprocated with information Josie sought about Ben. Now, since Ben’s departure, the two friends had become even closer.

  “Kate!” Josie gave her a poke, bringing her back to the present. “So what attracted him to me?”

  The lighthouse beam swung out across the lake.

  Kate flicked her cigarette butt over the rail. “Maybe he was intrigued with your ways.”

  “What ways?”

  “I don’t know, Josie. You’ll have to ask him.” Kate didn’t want to think about what might attract Ben.

  After a short silence, Josie continued. “Does he ever say anything about me, in his letters?”

  Josie had asked this so many times, Kate merely shook her head.

  “You said he likes chocolate. Brownies or chocolate chip cookies? Which do you think?”

  “Cookies.” Katie closed her eyes. Oh, to have a chocolate chip cookie!

  “Let’s make them together. Come for lunch tomorrow.”

  Kate didn’t want to think about tomorrow. She just wanted to be warm in her bed.

  Josie gave Kate another poke. “You came out in this storm for a reason. You have something to tell me.”

  A raw wind blew around the lighthouse.

  “I don’t think this is a good time . . .” Kate hesitated. “I should get home.”

  “But why did you come?”

  Might as well say it. She’d tell her eventually. “I have a math tutor, that’s all.”

  “A new tutor? There must be more. Are you in love?”

  “No! It’s not like that at all!” Kate laughed. “I just wanted to talk with you because”—she swallowed, then whispered—“he’s a PW.”

  “In your house?” Josie jerked away. “You must be joking. How could your parents ever—”

  “It’s all right,” Kate said wearily. “He likes America now—”

  “Of course he’d say that. My father said that those Nazis are from Rommel’s panzer troops. Don’t you get it? That’s who Ben’s fighting.” She was shouting, her face contorted. “They’re professional murderers!” She jumped up. “I’m not allowed to go to your house because of those Nazis. Did you know that? Not as long as they’re on your property.”

  So that was why Josie hadn’t been over to visit.

  A light went on in the house below. Kate’s heart caught. Josie’s parents would tell Kate’s parents, and that would be the end of that.

  Josie’s eyes were wild. “Go now!”

  Kate threw off the lightkeeper’s jacket and grabbed her sodden sweaters. She ducked through the passageway and hurried down the winding steps, teeth chattering. She doesn’t understand. I have to make her understand. Kate feared losing her friend.

  Out in the yard, after pulling on the wet sweaters, she ran along the path to the channel, tears raging down her cheeks. I’ll introduce them. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. When she meets Karl, she’ll see. I have to find a way.

  Teeth chattering, Kate stepped into the cold water. A blast of wind nearly knocked her down. She grabbed for the rope with both hands. The wind would be against her all the way home. About halfway across the channel, a volley of hard waves swept up and caught her by surprise, pulling her off her feet. Though she held tightly to the rope, her body floated on the fast current, feet pointing northward, icy hands simply holding on now, not advancing, just holding on. She squinted toward the mainland. Not so far away, not so far.

  She would have to move forward on the rope, hand over hand. The only way. One hand had to let go. Let go! She opened her left hand and reached out, but spray and rain blinded her and a wave tugged her away, and when she grabbed forward again her right hand slipped and the lake swallowed her whole.

  She went under and up and under an
d up, gulping for air, trying to keep her head above the choppy swells. She was a strong swimmer, but the waves were stronger. They pulled her down and forward and under and tossed her up again. She flailed her arms but the current had her. The deep black lake was in charge. She screamed into the darkness but there was no one to hear. Water over her head, in her ears, her nose. Ben’s voice coming to her, singing for her to wake up, floating away, Mother scolding about broken eggs, Miss Fleming beckoning—Yes, I can swim. I can make it! Miss Fleming is waiting. The girls in the dorm. Father!

  A wave tossed Kate toward shore. She grabbed for an overhanging branch and held on but the lake ripped her away, the rough bark burning her hand. Ben! She strained to envision his face as she gulped air and then gulped water and floundered toward the surface, muscles aching. This is what it feels like to drown. I’m going to drown! The shore was near but rushing quickly past, farther and farther from home, and the sky was bright with stars so far away that Kate watched herself as if from above, tiny in the huge lake, as insignificant as a water bug. Arms and legs heavy, leaden, barely moving.

  Let go, I could just let go and float up to the stars. Easy, so easy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARLOTTE WOKE FROM A DREAM of Karl climbing through her open window, his dark thick hair, wolf eyes, bare chest, spicy body slick with sweat . . .

  She sat up, breathing hard, oddly aroused. Thomas stirred beside her.

  “Thomas,” she whispered. “There’s somebody out there. I heard something in the trees.”

  She moved to get out of bed but Thomas pulled her back. “Just the wind.”

  She lay next to him, listening. His arm was around her and he kissed her cheek and moved his large palm across her nightgown until he found her breasts. She quivered, then relaxed under his touch. She sighed as his warm hand moved down her flat stomach, down to her muff, which he held like a ball, moving a finger around her wetness, into her wetness, breathing against her ear. When he drew her hand onto his erect penis, she caught her breath. She loved him for that, the way his body wanted hers. She moved her hand slowly up and down the strong length of it until he crawled on top of her and rocked into her, gently at first, rubbing against the walls of her wanting, then harder, in rhythm with her breathing, his breathing, her tongue teasing at his nipples, his face in her hair, her hands on his buttocks, pushing with him, together, rocking together, her body taking over her mind until she shook and he moaned and flowed into her and lay panting, the two of them panting.

  After he finally rolled away, she lay in the dark, listening to his sleeping breath. She closed her eyes and slowly fell back to a dreamy state where Karl waited for her just beyond the window.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KATE’S OUTSTRETCHED ARM bumped against something solid, and her icy fingers grabbed hold. A ladder? She hung on against the current. Her wet clothes weighed her down as she tried to pull herself up. At the top she collapsed on a platform, chest heaving. The lake churned in her stomach, burning up through her throat. She turned on her side, gagging.

  After some time, she pushed up, sitting, bent over. She was on a dock that jutted out into the wild lake on the northern point of a bay. Far to the south the lighthouse blinked. Miles away, she thought, and home even farther. When an owl hooted, Kate looked behind her, a dense forest. Wild water in front of her, forest behind her. Wind icy around her. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  Looking up the beach, she saw a rowboat overturned on the shore. She couldn’t take it tonight. She wasn’t strong enough to fight the current rushing in the opposite direction. But she could crawl under it until the storm broke. She staggered to her feet, muscles weak and aching, teeth chattering.

  What was that? A wolf racing toward her, barking. She stared down at the choppy lake. If she jumped in again, she would surely drown. But to be torn apart by a wolf . . . !

  The animal came to the edge of the dock, snarling, teeth bared.

  Kate took a step back. The wolf put a foot on the dock, growling, guarding the edge, barring her way. Not a wolf, but a burly German shepherd kind of dog. Fierce and menacing.

  “Jake!” A man’s voice called out. “Here, Jake.”

  At the sound of the man’s voice, the dog stopped growling, but stood its ground.

  “Who is it?” the man called as he approached, white jacket gleaming in the starlight.

  Kate’s lips were too cold to form an answer.

  “Good boy,” he said, coming closer, petting the dog, close enough to see Kate. “What’s happened to you? You’re soaking wet!” He took off his jacket and fixed it across her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get you into the house. You could freeze to death out here!”

  The jacket was warm with body heat and smelled vaguely of vanilla. Kate pulled it close around her. “I n . . . n . . . need to g . . . g . . . go home,” she finally managed to say.

  “First we’ll get you thawed out.” He put an arm around her waist and half-carried her down the dock and across a wide expanse of lawn toward a house set far back from shore, away from the wind. It was a sprawling house filled with light. As they got closer, she heard bits of music, laughter. Stumbling alongside this warm strong man, Kate tried to focus. On the other side of the bright windows, people were dancing. Am I dreaming?

  Orange and purple paper lanterns showed the way. A tall Negro wearing a white apron stood in the yard poking at something that hung over a fire pit. Kate sucked in the aroma of roasting meat. Supper so late? Or is it tomorrow?

  A shorter man approached the cook and said, “William, the guests are getting stewed. We need to feed them.”

  “Yes, sir.” William was working to unhitch what appeared to be a whole pig on a spit.

  “Where’s our host?” He turned and saw them. “Ah, Clayton, there you are,” the short man slurred, coming forward, ice cubes clinking in a drink in his hand. “What’s this, some flotsam you picked up on the beach?”

  Flotsom?

  “Shut up, Ronny. Let’s get her in through the back.”

  “You’re not taking her to your room, buddy—”

  “Christ, Ronny. She needs dry clothes. Help me find Peggy. This girl’s taller, but about Peggy’s size.”

  When they came under a porch light, he let go of her waist and gave a quick bow. “Clayton Wesley Sullivan, at your service.”

  He had a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and a boyish nose splashed with freckles. When he bowed, his curly dark hair dipped onto his forehead. “Call me Clay.”

  She couldn’t possibly manage her whole name. “Kate,” she said through quivering lips. “Kate Christiansen.”

  He opened the back door and drew her in. Two girls stood in the hallway. They wore silky gowns and jewels and ribbons in their hair and had arched eyebrows, rouged cheeks, laughing lipstick mouths. When they saw Kate, they stopped their chatter and stared, eyes wide.

  “Please excuse us,” Clay said.

  The girls stepped aside, whispering, about her no doubt.

  But Clayton was leading Kate away from them, up a back staircase, down a hall, and into a bedroom, a feminine room with pink and green pillows and satiny striped curtains, calm and inviting.

  A fluffy white cat glanced up from a green divan, then returned to licking its paws, unconcerned.

  Kate caught sight of herself in a full-length oval mirror. Oh! Her blond hair was plastered to her head, her face was a deathly white, her clothes stuck to her tall, thin form. “I’m dripping on your floor,” she said through chattering teeth, staring down at a celery green wool rug decorated with vines of pink and plum roses.

  “We’ll have you fixed up in no time,” Clay assured her.

  A slim girl about Kate’s age floated into the room, her flouncy silk dress the color of strawberry ice cream. Her dark curls were pulled into a ribbon, accentuating high cheekbones and full soft lips. She was fresh and rich like someone out of a Fitzgerald novel, pretty in the way Clay was handsome. When she saw Kate, her eyebrows lifted in alarm.
/>   “Ah, Peggy,” Clay said. “This sweet mermaid has washed ashore and needs a bath and clean clothes.”

  “Of course. Come in. I’ll start the water.”

  Kate took a ragged breath, finally safe.

  After Clay left, Peggy introduced herself as Clay’s younger sister and led Kate to a pink bathroom large enough to live in. It had marble counters and tiles and polished brass fixtures, and it smelled like flowers. Unlike the tin tub at home, which sat behind a curtain in an alcove off the kitchen, this tub was white porcelain, long enough to lie in. Peggy turned a brass handle and steamy water poured from a spout. She tossed in a handful of salts perfumed with lilac. Kate moved toward the heat and held out her hands.

  “You must get out of those cold things.” Peggy hung a white terrycloth robe on a hook, put a thick bath towel on the counter, and handed Kate a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Can I bring you anything else?”

  Kate shook her head, because that’s all she could do.

  As Kate stepped into the hot water, her frozen legs burned, but she forced herself to sink in. Soon her blood warmed, and she closed her eyes and lay back to luxuriate in the sensuality of the scented water, so unlike anything on the farm.

  Did I fall asleep? Kate sat up with a start. The water had cooled. Rising from the bath, she slipped into the terrycloth robe and toweled her hair nearly dry, then returned to Peggy’s bedroom.

  Soon there came a knock on the door. “Kate?” Peggy’s voice.

  “Please come in!”

  Peggy held out her hands for Kate. “Oh, you must feel so much better!” She opened a closet and pulled out a dress that looked like pink cotton candy. “How’s this?” She held it up to Kate but didn’t wait for a response. “No, I think blue.” She rummaged in her closet and came out with another. “The color of your eyes. Do you like it?”