The Cherry Harvest

by Lucy Sanna

  Within an hour, Kate had sewn patches on the elbows of two of Father’s work shirts, mended the hem of one of Mother’s dresses, fixed the torn seam of a blouse, and patched a bedsheet. To keep up the pretense, she left a few things in the basket to work on later.

  Then she closed the door to the hall, closing herself in the sewing room, and lifted one of her bundles from its hiding place—a fine cotton fabric the color of her skin—and smoothed it out on the cutting table. She opened the Butterick pattern for the camisole and pinned tissue pieces to the cloth.

  The adjustable dressmaker form was set to her mother’s proportions. Kate measured it before changing it to her own measurements, then pinned the pieces around it. Once she had sewn them together and added a lacy edging, she took off her blouse and bra and pulled on the spaghetti-strap camisole.

  Turning this way and that, the girl in the mirror looked quite alluring. Kate swayed and swooned before her reflection, trying out poses for Clay. She laughed and hurried to her room to hang the camisole in the back of the closet, next to Peggy’s party dress.

  Kate wished she could share her feelings about Clay with Josie, but she never wanted to see that girl again. Such a blabbermouth! Peggy would be a better friend. Kate had planned to return Peggy’s dress to her at the party, but now she thought of a better idea. She would arrange a separate meeting, where she could ask Peggy about Clay. Peggy would be her new confidante.

  Kate hadn’t given Forever Amber to Josie after all. Instead, she was reading it herself, eagerly opening the library book each night to pore over daring love scenes. “She was warm and drowsy, marvelously content, and glad with every fibre of her being that it had happened. It seemed that until this moment she had been only half alive.”

  If only she could experience that with Clay! She trembled at the thought. Where she may once have been fearful of sex, Kate couldn’t help but long for the thrilling intimacy that Amber enjoyed. But no, how could she do that! But yes, if only!

  OVER THE ENSUING WEEK, Kate made the sheer celadon blouse, the silk brocade tap pants, and a dancing skirt that spun up on her thighs when she twirled, showing off the silk lining that matched her blouse. She was starting on the jacket, the most difficult of the pieces, when she heard the door opening. She turned, hiding the fabric behind her.

  “Well, you’re a busy girl,” Mother said. “What have you got there?” She came into the room and spied the brocade.

  “I felt like sewing . . . and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Oh?” Mother raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve nearly finished the mending.” Kate indicated the things folded on the cutting table. “I can come down and iron . . .”

  “I like seeing you interested in homemaking.” Mother stood in the doorway as if wanting a conversation.

  “I forgot how much fun it is to sew.” Kate kept her fingers on her work so Mother would see she wanted to keep going.

  “I’ll leave you, then.”

  Now Kate would have to make something for Mother. At least there was plenty of drapery fabric.

  As she pumped the foot treadle and pushed the brocade through the Singer, Kate wondered if she should tell Mother and Father about Clay, about the party. No, they’d want to meet him, meet his family. Impossible.

  The party was to start at four in the afternoon and would surely go late into the evening. She’d need an excuse to be out so late.

  KATE FOUND JOSIE SITTING on the dock in the shade of the lighthouse reading one of those tell-all magazines. It had been more than a week since their argument about the letter.

  “Josie,” Kate called out as she approached, waving.

  Josie jumped to her feet and hugged Kate. “I’m so so glad you came back. I missed you. I really really did.”

  Josie looked pretty in a blue summer dress. She had pulled her dark hair into pigtails, a look that emphasized her heart-shaped face and wide eyes. She’s going to be my sister-in-law. We need to trust each other.

  “You wanted to show me those pictures of wedding dresses?”

  “Oh yes! Wait here.” Josie ran toward the house.

  It was a hot day, bugs buzzing lazy in the air, the lake glassy calm. Waiting, Kate sat on the edge of the dock and dangled her bare feet in the water. A dragonfly glittered before her, alighted on the dock for a moment, then floated off into the sky. A slight breeze ruffled the surface of the lake. Three water beetles the size of black beans circled a wooden dock post. A small fish swam into view. Kate kicked her feet. “You better watch out, little beans.”

  Josie returned carrying a stack of The Bride’s Magazines and sat next to Kate. She had dog-eared the pages with dresses she liked most. Slinky silks, frothy chiffons, formal satins.

  “Look at this!” Josie cooed, then read the caption: “‘The Forget-Me-Not Bride, designed by Kathryn Kuhn.’ Oh! ‘Snowy pure silk marquisette, lightly traced with embroidered blue forget-me-nots. To be treasured for generations. Made to order. Bridal Salon.’” Her eyes shone. “I want this one!”

  Kate peered at the ordering information. Josie would have to send her measurements to the Jay Thorpe Gown Showroom at 24 West 57th Street in Manhattan. “But look at that price!” Kate poked the page. “Six hundred and fifty dollars!” That was enough to pay for four years of tuition and books and room and board . . . and maybe a house too!

  “I don’t care. I want it.”

  “For just one day? That’s a shameful waste of money!”

  Josie continued to read: “‘The bride’s diamond necklace, by Cartier.’”

  “Oh, Josie!” Kate reached over and turned the page.

  Josie turned a few more pages until Kate stopped her. “How about this one?” She pointed to a dress with a sleeveless shirred silk bodice and a slender floor-length skirt with layers of ribbony silk like silver feathers that trailed on the floor behind. So elegant! Kate imagined herself in that very dress, Clay at her side . . .

  “That would be hard to dance in,” Josie said. “I want to dance at my wedding.” She turned the page and sighed. “I want the Forget-Me-Not dress.” She flipped back to the dog-eared page and gazed fixedly at the dress as though staring hard enough might make it appear.

  “It’s so expensive, Josie—”

  Josie looked up with a sudden smile and clapped her hands. “Kate, you know how to sew. You can help me make the one I want. We could send to New York for the pattern. We’ll do it together. After all, we’re going to be sisters!” Josie put an arm through Kate’s and looked into her eyes. “Would you be my bridesmaid?”

  Kate gave Josie’s arm a squeeze. “I would be honored.”

  “You’ll help me with the dress?”

  “Of course,” Kate said.

  The two friends sat silent for a while, gazing out over the big lake. Bits of white clouds floated overhead. A freighter slid into view, slipping slowly along the horizon.

  Kate splashed her feet in the water, waiting long enough before speaking. “I’d like you to help me with something as well.”

  “Oh yes. I want to.”

  “It’s a secret.”

  Josie’s eyes lit up. “I promise I won’t tell.”

  “Especially Ben.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  WHILE MOTHER SCRAMBLED EGGS with parsley fresh from the garden, Kate set the table for supper.

  “Josie’s having a Fourth of July party,” Kate said, as casually as she could manage.

  “I don’t like that girl. Writing to Ben . . .”

  “She didn’t know you hadn’t told him about the prisoners. You and Ben are so close, she assumed . . . She’s so sorry.” Kate searched for something to say in Josie’s favor, but she came up short. “It will be in the afternoon, and into the evening. It’s a Tuesday.” That didn’t matter, but it was something to say.

  “Is it a family event? Parents included? I’m really not interested in visiting those people—”

  “You don’t have to go. Only Josie’s friends.”


  “Just girls, then. Of course, all the boys her age are away,” Mother mused. “Who else is she inviting?”

  Kate picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the mushroom soup. “It would be rude to ask, don’t you think?” After a pause, she added, “I think we shouldn’t tell anyone else. Other girls might feel left out. Where did you find these mushrooms?”

  “Under the crabapple trees in the woods—you know the place.” Mother wiped her hands on her apron. “Can you taste the herbs? I put basil and dill in the broth. What do you think?”

  “Mmm. Delicious.” After a pause, Kate said. “So I can go to Josie’s party?”

  “Well, I suppose your father could take you to the island in the boat. How long will it go on? You know he likes to be in bed by nine.”

  Kate’s heart beat fast. She certainly wouldn’t want to leave the party before nine, and how would she get back to the island anyway? “That won’t be necessary. Josie will pick me up and bring me back in her father’s motorboat.”

  “You’ll need to be home before dark.”

  Before dark! Kate hadn’t thought that far ahead. Would Clay drive her home? Was she Clay’s date, or merely one of the guests? She’d have to figure that out later. “Josie has it all arranged.”

  Mother frowned. “What does she have arranged?”

  This wasn’t going well. Kate took another taste of the mushroom soup. “Oh, this is so good!”

  “Kate.” Mother faced her, hands on hips. “I don’t want you two girls out on the lake alone in the dark.”

  “Josie’s father will be there. You don’t need to worry.”

  Mother spooned eggs onto the dinner plates. “I’ll speak with your father about this.”

  “I need to let Josie know by tomorrow so she can plan.”

  “Tomorrow?” Mother laughed. “If she must know tomorrow, then tell her no. If she can wait, your father and I will decide.”

  Kate suppressed a groan. She would have to make something extra special for Mother.

  ONCE KATE HAD FINISHED making her jacket, she changed the form back to Mother’s size and rifled through the drawers of patterns. She found one for a slim, sleeveless sheath dress. It wouldn’t be difficult. Within a few days, Kate had tailored the dress from the leftover green silk brocade and lined it with the sheerer celadon.

  When Mother was out in the garden, Kate gathered her new things—shorts, blouse, skirt, camisole, jacket—and Mother’s dress, and scurried down to the kitchen. She heated the flatiron on the stove, keeping an eye on Mother through the window as she ironed each item. Once the garments were free of wrinkles, she put them on hangers and ran upstairs to hide them in her closet.

  THE EVENING BEFORE THE PARTY, a fresh sweet evening, Kate followed the scent of cherry tobacco to the parlor. Father sat in the green wingback chair with his pipe, reading a book. Mother sat on the couch, feet tucked beneath her, darning a sock. Bing Crosby was crooning from the radio, “Moonlight becomes you, it goes with your hair . . .”

  Father glanced up. “Whatcha got there, Kate?”

  She held up the dress. “I made it for Mother.”

  He took his pipe from his lips. “You made this, for your mother? What a perfect color for you, Char.”

  “It’s silk,” Kate said, walking across the room to the couch.

  “Silk?” Mother touched the fabric. “Where in the world did you find silk? I hope you didn’t sacrifice any of your rabbits for this . . .”

  “No . . . I stopped at the dry goods store . . . to say hello to Mrs. J.” Kate’s mind sought a believable story. “Someone had just brought in a set of silk drapes, in trade. Mrs. J was going to send them to the government, but . . . I asked if I could have a piece . . . I told her I wanted to make something special . . . for you.” She paused, smiling. “The fabric for your dress, it didn’t cost anything.” It didn’t really, Kate reasoned. She had traded rabbits for her own outfit. The dress fabric was simply left over.

  Mother put down her darning and stood to hold the dress to her body. “It’s lovely, Kate. But I don’t know where I’ll wear it.”

  “Wear it for me, Char,” Father said, winking in Kate’s direction. “Put it on. I want to see it on you.”

  Mother smiled and left the room. Kate noted that her step was a bit lighter than usual.

  Father took a pull on his pipe. “That was quite generous of you, Kate. You’ve made your mother happy. I like to see her happy.”

  Kate didn’t feel generous at all. She squirmed under Father’s gaze. It was easier to lie to Mother. “It was nothing,” she whispered.

  After a few more puffs, Father continued. “Karl says you’re doing well with your lessons.”

  Kate relaxed at the change of topic. “He’s a good teacher.”

  “Yes, he is. And you’ve a good chance now to pass that test. I’m proud of you.”

  She was about to respond when Father looked beyond her and took his pipe from his mouth. “Ah, here’s my lovely.”

  Kate turned to see Mother approach the parlor. The dress skimmed her figure gracefully. She had brushed her hair and put on pink lipstick. Her cheeks were pink as well, but that was natural when she was excited.

  A sultry voice came from the radio, Helen Forrest: “I’m wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again . . .”

  Father stood and bowed to Mother. “May I have this dance?” He took her hand and the two of them circled the room in a waltz, Father in his socks, Mother barefoot.

  “You dance well together,” Kate said. Receiving no response, she added, “I’m going upstairs to get a good night’s sleep.” She faked a yawn. “I’ll be out late tomorrow night, remember? Josie’s party . . .”

  Mother looked as if she was about to say something, but Father spoke first. “Have fun.” He pulled Mother closer.

  Kate went up to her room to paint her toenails.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FOUR O’CLOCK, FOURTH OF JULY.

  Kate slipped out the front door and hurried down to the dock where Josie waited. The day was hot but breezy, the sky a friendly blue.

  “Wow,” Josie said. “You look like one of those sassy Vargas Girls!”

  Laughing, Kate stepped into the boat.

  “And your hair, it shines like gold in the sunlight. I’ll go slowly so I don’t muss it.”

  Kate had curled her hair into rippling waves and added a green brocade ribbon. But she was eager to get to the party. She thought of Katharine Hepburn. “Go fast.”

  Josie motored north and slowed in front of the big house. “Wow. It’s like that barbecue scene in Gone with the Wind.”

  Guests clustered in the dappled sunlight and strolled on the wide lawn. This wasn’t the romantic light of the nighttime party. Here Kate would be fully exposed, an outsider.

  Sitting in the boat, Josie held to the dock. “Well, go on.”

  “Maybe I should come back later, after dark.”

  Josie gave her a shove. “What’s wrong with you? I wish I could go.”

  Kate stepped out of the boat and stood on the dock and smoothed her hair.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Josie said. “Come see me tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Kate lifted her chin, smiled boldly, and moved slowly up the walkway into the laughter that floated across the green along with the rhythmic bounce of a tennis ball and the clink of horseshoes.

  Clay’s burly dog came dashing toward her, but this time Kate wasn’t frightened. “Jake,” she said sternly. “Sit.”

  Jake did as he was told, tongue lolling.

  “Good boy.” She pushed her pretty pink nails through his fur.

  “Kate!” Clay was hurrying her way.

  Sauntering toward him as casually as she could, Kate was aware of her sleeveless silk blouse that showed off the form-fitting camisole beneath, her tap pants snug across her flat tummy, her long bare legs, and her peep-toe sandals that made her even taller than she was. She liked being tall. On her shoulder
she carried a matching brocade satchel, which held the rest of her outfit, for later.

  “You are a vision.” Clay reached for her hands and kissed her lightly on the cheek, his vanilla-scented skin brushing her own.

  She took in his blue smiling eyes, his dark hair neatly brushed and oiled, his boyish freckles. He wore navy shorts and a white short-sleeved button-down shirt, open at the top, showing off a bit of curly hair on his chest.

  “Lucky for you I had an opening on my dance card,” she said.

  “I want the whole thing.” Clay gave her a sideways hug, his large hand caressing her bare shoulders. He offered her his elbow, and they strolled together up the stone walk.

  The other girls wore swingy summer dresses or neat linen trousers. A few wore shorts, but not sexy tap pants like Kate’s. She recognized girls from the previous party, girls who now stared her way. Lizzie, Eva. This time she wasn’t going to let them rattle her.

  She heard a whistle from one of the boys, then another. She ignored the attention and glided forward, as Katharine Hepburn would do.

  A jazzy tune drifted from the covered porch where a three-piece ensemble played—saxophone, drum, bass. Smoky scents wafted from a long grill.

  “C’mon, let’s get you a beer.” Clay steered her to a canvas awning that sheltered buffet tables from the sun. He picked up a beer glass and tilted it before the spout on a keg, filling the air with a malty aroma. Kate had tried beer once before and disliked its bitter taste. But this was different, refreshingly cold. She licked the foam off her upper lip. “Where’s Peggy?” She gazed out across the lawn.

  “Oh, these are just my school chums. She’s too young for . . .” He stopped.

  Too young for what? Peggy couldn’t be any younger than me.

  “You’re just in time for croquet,” he quickly added. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue.” Kate gave him a sly grin. She knew well enough that blue went first. She followed Clay across the lawn.

  Including Kate, there were three girls and three boys in the game. Clay chose yellow.

  Kate handed him her beer and walked to the starting position. She took the blue-striped mallet from the rack and rolled the blue ball forward with her right foot, conscious of eyes on her. When she bent at the waist to swing, she realized she must be exposing more of her upper thighs than she was comfortable with, along with the curve of her bottom. But if she straightened up, she would jeopardize her shot. She wanted to win. Just as she pulled back on the mallet, a low whistle stopped her.