The Cherry Harvest

by Lucy Sanna

  “Hey,” Clay shouted, scowling toward the sound.

  Kate’s cheeks went hot. She stared at the ball, trying to focus.

  When she struck, blue rolled nicely through the first wicket and stopped short of the second, earning a point and another turn. With her next swing, Kate tapped through the second wicket, landing just outside the third.

  Next up was Lizzie. She looked fresh and cool in a belted seersucker dress. The afternoon sun showed off purple highlights in her wavy, shoulder-length red hair. She was really quite striking. She stepped into position and kicked off her white sandals. Before she lifted her mallet, she glanced back at Clay. What kind of a look was that?

  Kate noticed Lizzie’s thin, spindly arms. Glancing about, she noted that nearly all the girls had skinny arms. In comparison, Kate’s arms and shoulders were muscled from lifting and hauling and shoveling. She should have put sleeves on her blouse to hide them.

  Lizzie bent over her ball and tapped it at an odd angle, launching it backward. She giggled and stepped aside for Ronny, who slammed through two wickets and took the lead. When it was Clay’s turn, he drove his yellow through the first two wickets and hit Kate’s blue, sending it a bit off course.

  “I saw that!” Kate gave Clay a mock pout.

  “So sorry.” There was fun in his eyes.

  Eva was next. Her dark brown hair was piled in curls around her plump face. She wore a pink polka dot dress with a low neckline, and when she bent to swing her mallet, the tops of her breasts jiggled for all to see. “Owww!” she cried when the mallet hit her foot. It must not have hurt terribly because she tittered and peeped around to see who was watching.

  When Kate was up again, she managed to angle her ball through the third wicket, hitting Lizzie’s red. That gave her two turns. She picked up her ball and took it to where Clay’s yellow sat in the lead.

  “No!” Clay cried out with a laugh.

  Kate placed her ball next to his and put a sandaled foot on blue to hold it in place. She raised her mallet and gave blue a whack, driving yellow clear across the yard. “Touché!”

  “Why, you little minx!” Clay rushed toward her and tickled her around the waist until she doubled over and finally fell to the grass, giddy with laughter.

  Guests from across the lawn drifted over to see what the commotion was all about.

  “My turn,” Lizzie called, claiming attention.

  For the remainder of the game, they had an audience: boys and girls who had wandered over from other games, cheering every stroke. In the end, Kate won.

  “To the victor, another beer!” Clay declared, taking Kate’s hand.

  Hot and thirsty, Kate drank greedily.

  A petite brunette came up to her. “You’re Kate, I hear.”

  Clay introduced them. Her name was Sylvia. “You really showed Clay what’s what,” she said with a giggle.

  “He started it.” Kate laughed.

  Clay shook his head.

  “Boys like to win, you know,” Sylvia said. “Lucky for you Clay’s such a good sport.”

  “That I am.” Clay bowed.

  “Hey, Clay,” a boy called. “Let’s see if you win when you’re not playing with girls.”

  “Excuse me,” Clay said, leaving the two girls together.

  “We’re just starting a tennis match,” Sylvia said. “Do you play?”

  Kate knew nothing about tennis except that it was an elite sport, something that Gatsby’s guests would play, but she didn’t want Sylvia to know that. “Thank you, but I’m a bit worn out from croquet. I’ll just sit here and catch my breath.”

  “I so wanted you to be my partner,” Sylvia pouted. “Next time, then.”

  After Sylvia left for the tennis court, Kate roamed down the lawn. The breeze from the lake cooled the afternoon. The late sun gave everyone’s skin a tawny glow.

  Clay was across the yard now, tossing a football with a few of his pals. Other boys sat on the porch playing a noisy game of poker, girls crowding around, egging them on.

  Off under a grove of maples, a group of girls sat on a blanket. One of them looked up, shading her eyes against the low sun. “Want to join us?” She moved to make room. “I’m Beth.”

  Kate sat next to her, grateful for the invitation. Beth offered Kate a bottle of Jitterbug insect repellent. It smelled nasty. Kate declined. Bug bites didn’t bother her much—they were such a part of living on a farm that she barely noticed them.

  The others introduced themselves. They were mostly from Chicago’s northwest suburbs—Highland Park, Lake Forest, Evanston. They had gone to the same private schools, their families belonged to the same clubs. Now they attended a variety of small colleges and finishing schools. A world away from Kate’s life.

  Colored balloons floated about. When a yellow balloon approached the blanket, Eva stood and squealed and batted it on to the next group. She drank from a flask and passed it around. Kate took a whiff and decided against it.

  After Lizzie took a long sip, she touched Kate’s shorts. “We have to know. Where did you get your outfit?”

  Beth reached forward as well. “Silk?”

  Were they making fun of her? Pushing her to confess she was too poor to buy things?

  Kate thought of Katharine Hepburn in Alice Adams and spoke slowly. “I was paging through Vogue, and when I saw this, I just knew I had to have it.”

  They looked impressed, as if they believed she had ordered it from New York or Paris or Milan.

  “Where do you go to school?” Lizzie asked.

  “Madison,” Kate said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be starting at the U. Majoring in English.”

  “Starting?”

  Will the challenges never end? To deflect the question, she added, “It’s my father’s alma mater.”

  “What business is your family in?” Lizzie said.

  Kate took a sip of beer before answering. She didn’t like all these questions. “Property.” Then, after a pause, “We have people working the land. Mostly cherries now.”

  Beth leaned forward. “Which sorority do you plan to pledge?”

  The thought of joining a sorority had never occurred to Kate. It probably cost something, something she couldn’t afford. But she liked Beth. Beth was nicer than Lizzie and Eva. “I haven’t decided.”

  “I’m in Kappa Kappa Gamma, at Loyola,” Beth said. “We have a chapter in Madison. I’d love for you to come down to meet my sorority sisters before pledge week so you can see for yourself.”

  Another girl bent forward. “At Northwestern, we—”

  “I don’t know what’s so special about sororities,” Lizzie snapped.

  The conversation came to a halt. Apparently Lizzie was not someone to cross.

  Kate sipped her beer, thinking it might be better to ask the questions than to answer them. She squinted toward Lizzie, whose face was in shadow, the sun low behind her. “Where do you go to school?”

  Lizzie threw back her head. “Miss Pamela’s Modeling School.” She said it as if Kate should know it. She lit herself a cigarette, then picked a bit of tobacco off her tongue.

  “That sounds so glamorous. Which magazine do you want to work for?” Kate asked.

  Lizzie gave a laugh. “Models are not employed by magazines. They have agents.”

  “Well, you’d make a great model, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not interested in working.” She stared at Kate. “I’m interested in culture, stylish dress, deportment.” After a pause, she added, “Why, I could give you some tips.” Lizzie reached over and ran her fingers through Kate’s hair. “It’s awfully fine. You need a proper cut. Short. I’d cut it short. Hmm? What do you think, Eva?”

  “That’s a great idea,” Eva said. “Lizzie did my hair.”

  “Let’s do it tomorrow,” Lizzie said.

  “You’re staying until tomorrow?” Kate said it too quickly.

  “You’re not?” Lizzie smirked.

  Kate caught Lizzie and Eva exchanging a smile. Kate wanted Cla
y’s friends to like her, but she was off-balance here, unsure of her footing.

  A cowbell rang out. “Come and get it,” Ronny shouted from the porch.

  William was crossing the lawn with a tray of barbecued meats.

  Guests rose and made their way to the buffet tables laden with trays of grilled hamburgers and bratwurst, fruits, salads, baked beans, breads, cakes and cookies. A fat watermelon sat with a vodka bottle nose down, draining into it. There were bottles of other liquors as well.

  Some began filling plates. Others stood about, drinking, talking.

  When a heavyset boy she knew approached her, Kate smiled, wanting to be friendly. “Hello, Bradley.”

  “Hey there, little girl.” He came close and put an arm around her waist. “I’ve got a blanket over there by the woods.”

  His body reeked of meaty sweat, his breath of booze. She felt the closeness, the lumbering heaviness. She pulled away. “Thank you, but I’m Clay’s guest.”

  “Sir Clay?” He laughed. “We all are.” He took a drag on a cigar. “Especially Lizzie.” He paused. “Since you’re not one of us, I thought you might want to know.”

  Clay and Lizzie? So that’s what the interrogations are all about. And if Clay’s with her, what am I doing here?

  But there he was, walking her way. Clay came forward and took Kate’s arm and steered her toward an empty blanket on the lawn.

  Biting into her hamburger, Kate forced herself to eat slowly. “This is so so good!”

  Clay leaned forward and dabbed her chin with a napkin.

  Behind him, the sky was a wash of pink and purple pastels. An evening breeze came soft from the lake. The trio was playing sweet tunes—“Stardust,” “Polka Dots and Moonbeams,” “You Stepped Out of a Dream.”

  Once they’d finished dinner, Kate and Clay moved toward the porch where others stood against walls or sat on chairs, smoking, drinking, listening to the trio. With an attentive audience, the musicians began showing off, jazzing up the standards.

  Someone passed a flask to Clay and he handed it to Kate. “Brandy.” His eyes on her.

  It burned as it went down.

  When he nodded for her to take another sip, she handed it back. “It makes me feel dizzy.”

  “That’s the point,” he whispered.

  She shook her head, laughing, and put up her hand to ward it off.

  The sky held that gentle gray-blue light that comes just after sunset, mysterious, romantic. Paper lanterns swayed, softly orange. Fireflies flitted like tiny stars, on and off.

  When Ronny and Sylvia danced to the center of the porch, the trio upped the tempo and played an energetic swing. Kate thought of changing into her dancing skirt, but there was Lizzie, watching from outside the circle of light. Kate didn’t want to leave Clay now.

  He lit a cigarette and handed it to her, then another for himself.

  Sylvia’s party dress swung up around her thighs. Ronny held her out and then slid her down on the floor between his open legs. He pulled her up and put his hands on her waist and lifted her in the air, revealing her red panties. After that little show, he slid her down close along his body, their eyes locked together.

  Kate clapped along with the others. “They dance like they’re in love,” she whispered to Clay.

  “More like in heat. They like to show off.”

  The trio slowed it down. “I’ll Never Smile Again.”

  Standing next to Clay, Kate swayed, wanting him to ask her to dance.

  “Clay!” It was Lizzie, holding out a hand.

  Clay looked toward Kate with an apologetic shrug and moved with Lizzie to the dance floor.

  The trio played it slow and bluesy, the bass player singing, “I’ll never love again . . . I’m so in love with you . . .”

  Lizzie moved into Clay, or was he moving into her? So close, so so close. Her arms reaching about his neck, his arms moving down around her waist.

  Ronny and Sylvia were up there again, challenging with sexy moves. The trio worked it, playing along, keeping up the competition. Girls squealed. Boys hooted.

  In a slow turn, Clay’s eyes caught Kate’s. He pushed away from Lizzie. Lizzie fell back just then, so he had to catch her. She moved her hands to Clay’s chest, her torso so close, her hips pushed in.

  Enough! Kate walked out of the light, over to the buffet tables. She should have brought flat shoes for walking home.

  Jake ambled over as if he knew she needed comfort. Kate put her hand on his head and stroked his fur. “Why did I ever think I could fit in with this crowd?” He nosed into her hand. She was woozy. How much had she drunk? She recalled what Mrs. J had said, a summer fling.

  “Kate?” It was Clay.

  She stood up straight. Katharine Hepburn. “You naughty boy,” she said with a mock pout.

  He laughed and took her hand. “Come dance with me.”

  Did she want to be on display with Clay? Everyone watching? She didn’t dance sexy like Sylvia and Lizzie. But when Clay held out his hand, she took it.

  It was a slow one. “Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread . . .” Clay held her at a respectable distance, elbows out. As the song progressed, he brought her toward him until they were close, and closer still. She watched his eyes watching hers. They swirled in rhythm to the music, her body following his every move. The trio played to them, matching their rhythm.

  A high voice whooped from the front door, spoiling the moment.

  Eva stood under the porch light in a swimsuit. “Catch me if you can!” She ran down the lawn to the lake.

  Lizzie followed, dashing from the house.

  “Did you bring a swimming suit?” Clay asked.

  Kate nodded.

  After changing upstairs with the other girls, Kate hurried down to the lake. A slim moon hung amid a million sparkling stars. The water was calm, lapping gently on the fine brown-sugary sand.

  Some of the guests sat on the dock, smoking and drinking. Others waded in the shallows. That was where Clay was. Kate walked past them all and dove outward into the water, chilly against the warm night. She swam in a strong crawl, out to where the water was deeper, colder. Sobering cold. That was what she needed.

  On the way back, she felt a tug on her ankle. “Where are you going, little mermaid?” Clay swam up alongside. She turned toward him and snapped into a sidekick, slicing through the water like a knife. Swimming in rhythm. When they came to a sandbar, he helped her to her feet and they stood in waist-deep water. Feeling momentarily disoriented, she put her hand on Clay’s chest to steady herself. She kept it there, fingered the dark curly hair, thick from nipple to nipple, diving in a dark V toward his swim shorts. She lost her footing, and he caught her and brought her close, and when he kissed her lips her insides tightened.

  “Your lips are sweet as cherry pie.” His arms were warm and firm around her, his eyes watching hers. They closed as his tongue plunged in.

  Her body was fluid, open. He pressed her to him and she felt a thickness against her pelvis, hard against her, moving against her but with her because she was moving too. Rubbing together. His breathing faster, her breathing faster, her skin tingling. He was panting. She knew about breeding—rabbits, chickens, goats—frantic matings, then off to munch on greener grasses.

  When she attempted to push away, he held her tight. “Shh, I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love.”

  My love!

  She couldn’t help it. Moving in rhythm, underwater, with the lapping of the waves. She should swim from the dream, but the energy, gathering, gushing, pulsed through her body and she couldn’t turn it off. She didn’t want to turn it off. Her body quivered against his, her hips moved toward his, his passion hard against her, his hands on her bottom, his mouth on her bathing suit where her nipples stood hard. And down there, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing . . .

  “Clay, I—”

  “Kate!” He called close in her ear. He grabbed her hard, pressing against her, his body rigid. The thickness hard against her. Then
it was gone. He shuddered and moaned.

  What just happened? What did she miss?

  He opened his eyes and whispered, “Oh, Kate, I’m sorry.”

  Though still in their swimsuits, Kate felt as if they had been naked together, so close!

  Sorry for what? She didn’t feel sorry for anything. “I feel beautiful in your arms.”

  “Ah.” He breathed slowly. Then after a pause, he whispered, “Beautiful. Yes you are. Innocent beauty. Pure and good.” He kissed her face. “That’s what I like about you.”

  She wanted to stay in his arms forever, listen to the sound of his deep whisper in her ear.

  “Kate, I—”

  A scream startled them apart. She turned to see Eva in the water, waving something over her head.

  “Look what I have . . .” Eva called.

  Her bathing suit!

  “Oh lord,” Clay sighed.

  One of the boys swam toward Eva and snatched the suit from her. “Come and get it,” he called to her.

  Eva shrieked and swam after him toward shore.

  “Okay, everybody,” Clay called. “Time for fireworks.”

  “Time to hit the blankets!” a boy yelled.

  Kate worried about what might come next. Recalling what Lizzie had said, Kate asked Clay, “Is everyone sleeping here tonight?”

  He smiled and hugged her. “Well, sure.”

  “But . . . I can’t. I need to . . .” What could she say?

  “You can’t stay? I should have made it clear in the invitation.”

  “I’m sorry, but—” She didn’t want to tell the truth. That she wasn’t allowed to stay out late. That she had animals to care for in the morning. Instead, she peeked at him from under her lashes and said, “I didn’t bring my pajamas.”

  He laughed and kissed her cheeks. “Let’s go watch the fireworks.”

  Kate went inside to change into her skirt and blouse. When she came out, Clay was waiting on the porch. He handed her a sparkler.