Honey Tree Farm

by Brenda Spalding

  The sky had cleared, and they'd put the top down again. As Josh drove toward Arcadia, they wound past farms and estates and acres of pastures with horses and cattle. The smell of orange blossoms was strong in the air. Occasionally they passed a roadside stand selling oranges, vegetables or plants. They stopped at one called O’Brian’s and quickly picked up some strawberries and local honey.

  Arcadia turned out to be everything Maggie had expected. The 20 or so shops were all located within three blocks along West Oak Street. Some of the old brick buildings dated back to the early 20th century, making the town feel it had been caught in a time warp. Years ago a fire destroyed most of the old buildings. In rebuilding the town had been careful to keep to the ancient traditions and now the new blended right in with the old.

  They explored shop after shop. Maggie was captivated with the architecture and pointed out various styles as they walked. They stopped in the old Arcadia Opera House, a reconstructed building now converted into a busy antique shop.

  Maggie was torn between two items; the first was an oil on canvas by Girard, which measured 31" x 55". Josh reminded her that it probably wouldn't fit in the overhead compartment on the flight home on Sunday. The second, a vintage footed Northwood beaded cable Carnival Glass bowl, the sheen variegated from green to amethyst to aqua to gold.

  "This will fit perfectly into a 9" sq box. We'll take it," she said, handing it to the proprietor. Then something else caught her eye; a lovely green Teco pottery vase made in Chicago in the early 20th century.

  "Oh, Josh, won't this be perfect for our bedroom?" she gushed. "We'll take this, too."

  They took a break and crossed the street to The Shoppe, a quaint ice cream parlor before heading back with their treasures and a few postcards to send home.

  "Have you had enough shopping," he asked walking back to the car.

  "Actually, my feet ache from all the walking. The next time we go shopping reminds me to wear more comfortable shoes. Oh, hasn't this been such a grand day?" She slipped her arm around his. "I love vacations. I love Florida... Oh, and of course I love you, too."

  Just then they passed the Rattlers Old West Saloon.

  "This place looks fascinating. Dare we stop it?"

  Josh could see that she was tired. "It is getting late, and we still have the drive back to Sarasota. Maybe we should check it out another time."

  "You're right, besides your folks are looking forward to dinner with us. If we leave now, we might make it back before dark."

  Chapter 4

  The sun was setting when they turned west and headed back to Sarasota. Amazing shades of red, violet and flamingo pink spread across the altocumulus cloud formations. Josh pulled the car’s visor down to cut the harsh light of the setting sun.

  "What? You don't appreciate natures' last hurrah?" she asked, with a laugh.

  "I prefer my buttermilk in biscuits."

  "Picky, picky. You know, it will all be over in a few minutes."

  "I'm all for that," he said, adjusting his head to keep the visor between his line of vision and the horizon.

  Maggie laughed and patted his arm. We'll be home soon, and I'll pour you a cool one. And cheese! I know you like cheese with your whine."

  "Very funny..." he said, squinting, trying to make out the road through the glare of the sun on the windshield.

  "I can’t wait to show your mom the vase and bowl, and then we can all relax on the lanai with a nice glass of Fiorelli’s... Josh, look out!”

  “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed and jerked the wheel a hard left sending them into the oncoming lane. Luckily no cars in sight. He quickly pulled back, pumping the breaks at the same time to get control as the car fish-tailed across the road. The front tire caught the soft shoulder, propelling them off the road, sheering a sign and sending them nose-first into a deep, water-filled ditch beside the road. The airbags exploded with a deafening bang.

  "Oh my god, Maggie! Are you all right?" his hands still gripping the wheel and shaking.

  "I, yes... the damn airbag could have broken my nose, but I'm all right."

  "What the hell! Was a cow... A COW! - on the goddam highway!" He opened his door and stepped out... and up to his shins in ditch water. "Son of a...!"

  The sign they hit had once read: 'Welcome to Edgeville, population 645', but now half of it lay in the weeds, while the other half swung lazily in the slight breeze.

  "Josh, Honey, are you okay?

  “I’m fine, but I don’t think the car is.”

  Maggie brushed her red hair away from her face and glided awkwardly out from under the collapsed airbag. “Thank God for seat belts and air bags,” she murmured to no one in particular and with a sarcastic edge.

  "I can't believe this! A damn cow!" he turned toward the front of the car, slipped in the wet grass landing hard on his backside. "Josh..."

  "I'm fine. Wet, shaky and bruised... did I mention pissed!" he said with a strong emphasis on the last word.

  “Let's call AAA and get some help out here.” Maggie pushed on her door, but it wouldn’t open all the way. She eased out, barely getting her feet through the opening. She stepped with both feet into the cold, muddy water almost to her knees. “Yuck!"

  “We’re going to need a tow. I hope we didn’t break anything.” Josh, surveyed the car, checking for damage, but not being mechanically inclined, he had no idea what he was looking for.

  “Maggie, get your phone out. I’ll get the rental papers from the glove box. There is probably an emergency number to call.”

  “My phone? I told you I was leaving mine to charge. You were supposed to bring yours.”

  “I thought you said leave mine to charge." A look of realization spread over his face. "Great. Here we are, out in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a ditch, no phone and it's getting darker by the minute.

  “Oh, Josh, I'm sorry. I should have checked. I had an idea you weren’t listening." She perched on the side of the car, the front end stuck in the ditch and the whole thing listing severely to one side. Josh pulled at prickly stickers that clung to his pant legs.

  The black cow was approaching. She had meandered off the road, and looking lost, must have decided to join the party. Maggie stretched out her hand, and the cow came closer. She sniffed at Maggie’s out-stretched hand.

  “Don’t make friends with that beast! She almost got us killed!”

  “She’s sorry. Look, you can see it in those big brown eyes.”

  “You’re such a pushover,” he said moving toward her. He put his arms around her, holding her close and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  “I fell for your big brown eyes, didn’t I?” She said softly.

  “And I’m glad you did.” Josh gave her a hug. “It will all be fine. The car is a rental and insured. We’ll find a farmhouse and get some help. I'm sorry, Maggie. I wasn’t listening to you about the phone. My mind was on the winery reservations and surprising you.”

  “You know, most men would be ranting and raving about now. You are always the calm one. I swear you can resolve any problem. That’s why you will make one great attorney."

  “Oh, I was mad, but there is nothing we can do. Am I going to be mad at the cow? If I’m angry with anyone, it’s the farmer who let his cow wander all over the road.”

  “We’d better get going. I saw a house back down the road. Open the trunk, would you? I think I have another pair of shoes in there. I can’t walk in these; they’re totally ruined.”

  Josh grabbed their jackets, and Maggie changed her wet shoes. Hand in hand, they walked back the way they had come.

  “It’s so quiet out here - no cars or trucks. Listen, you can hear different insects and a few late birds.” Maggie whispered. They could hear the soft sounds of nature settling in for the night. The lights of a farmhouse shone in the distance, leading the way.

  Chapter 5

  The moon would not be full for a few more nights, but there was enough light to make their way. Before long they came to the driveway lead
ing to the farmhouse that Maggie had noticed earlier. A handmade sign on the post read: 'Honey for Sale. Come on up.' The sound of their feet crunching on the crushed shell drive resounded in the still night air.

  “Sounds friendly,” said Maggie. They followed the sign directing them to a parking area behind the house. There were wood steps that led to a large, screened back porch, which extended the full width of the house. Beside the steps, a sign read 'Walk-In.' They walked up and opened the screen door. They could see that jars of honey had been set out on a table along with beeswax candles in various sizes. A sign listed the prices, and 'Pay Here' was written in large black letters on a cigar box.

  “The owners of this place are very trusting,” Maggie whispered.

  The farmhouse set back from the road and looked to be quite old, but it was hard to be sure in the dark. Off to one side was a barn, and what appeared to be an orange grove extended back behind the house. The aroma of orange blossoms filling the air confirmed it.

  Just then three dogs came racing to meet them, barking and wagging their tails in greeting. The porch light came on, and an old woman stepped out. She was short, stout and held a bowl of green beans. She placed it on the floor beside her rocker. “Bella! Blue! Tucker! You get on over here right now and stop scaring these nice folks. Hi there,” she said to the couple over the yapping of the dogs. She took a bag of dog food off the table and poured some in each of three bowls of different sizes and then replaced the bag. “I didn’t hear a car drive up and now I see why. No car. Did you have a breakdown?”

  The old woman spoke with a soft country twang. “Get your nose out of there, Tucker,” she said, brushing the black and white collie away from the bowl. “Those aren't for you.”

  “Well, it wasn't a breakdown exactly. There was this cow in the road, and we landed in a ditch." Josh began. Realizing the cow might belong to her, softened his tone. "Uh, we were trying not to hit her, ma’am.”

  “That’s got to be one of ol’ Henry Culver’s cows,” the woman shook her head. “I keep telling that man he’s got to fix his fences, but does he listen? No, he doesn’t. Somebody’s going to sue him for damages one of these days, and then maybe he’ll learn - but I doubt it. Come on, have a seat. I’m Mrs. Sullivan. Welcome to Honey Tree Farm.”

  Josh and Maggie introduced themselves. The age of the woman was hard to determine. She looked to be in her early or mid-eighties. She wore a blue cotton dress that hung below her knees and worn house slippers on her feet. Her hair was a sparkling mix in shades of gray and shined like a halo in the overhead light. Her smile was welcoming, and her eyes held a joyful sparkle.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan. Josh said. We're sorry to be a bother, but yours is the first place we came to.”

  “It's no trouble at all. I’ll call down to Barry at the garage. He’s got a tow truck and has hauled plenty out of the ditches around here.” She went to the door. “I’ll get some iced tea for you while you wait. It shouldn’t belong. It’s a pleasant evening. Have a seat out here on the porch, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Mrs. Sullivan,” said Josh. “Can I call my folks and let them know what’s happened? We were supposed to be back in time for dinner. I should also call the rental company.”

  “Of course, Josh. I’ll call Barry, and then you can make any calls you need to,” she answered and leaving the young couple on the porch.

  “She seems like a nice lady. I wonder if she’s here all alone.”

  “I'll wager some of these farms have been in the same family for generations,” said Josh. “She probably has tons of family nearby to check on her.”

  Mrs. Sullivan returned carrying a tray with a pitcher of iced tea, four glasses and a plate of cookies. “I got hold of the garage just in time. They were locking up for the night. Barry is out on another call, but they’ll get a message to him and have him call."

  She set the tray on the table, poured tea into one glass and handed it to Josh. “It's okay if you want to go on in and make your calls. The phone is down the hall and on the right.”

  Josh wandered inside. A light on the stove lit the room sufficiently to see as he walked through the small kitchen. It looked like an ad right out of a 1950’s magazine. There was the white enamel gas stove and a single door Kelvinator refrigerator. The kitchen felt cozy and comfortable. He walked down the hallway and found the phone located on a small table by the stairs. Besides the phone was a little brass lamp with an etched chimney. "That's probably vintage too," Josh said to himself. He almost expected to find an old rotary dial phone, but at least the phone was updated; although, it might have been one of the last phones tethered to the wall. The handy push-button assembly was on the right side of the cradle in which the receiver laid. The room's decorations and furniture were old and worn, but everything appeared neat and tidy. Family photos were displayed on the wall leading up the stairs probably to the bedrooms. He dialed as he looked them over. Some were quite old. He guessed the newer ones were the woman’s children and grandchildren. The phone on the other end began ringing.

  Maggie couldn't help admiring Mrs. Sullivan's things as she sipped the cold tea. There was the old rocking chair the woman sat in, the painted tray that held the refreshments and they sat on an old wicker table. It had seen better days but still appeared sturdy. This was obviously a woman who took care of her things.

  "What a lovely etched pitcher," she said as she took another sip. "I love antiques. It looks to be vintage, but I don't recognize that floral pattern."

  "Oh my, I've had that for ages. It used to have matching glasses, but one by one they got broken.

  "Would you like a cookie, dear?" She started to get up to retrieve the small plate of cookies from the tray.

  "No, let me." Maggie offered the plate to her new acquaintance. "Mrs. Sullivan, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but why don't you call me Kathy?"

  "These cookies are delicious. Did you bake them?

  “Oh no, I don’t bake cookies or cake.” She continued. “I don’t bake much at all since the kids grew up. If we need something sweet, the grocery has a good selection. Still, sometimes I get a hankering for something, you know? Just this morning a mood struck me, and I made an apple pie for Jesse." She took another sip of tea before she continued. "Jesse, my husband, is very fond of apple pie. I wanted to surprise him with it when he gets home. He must have had a meeting tonight. That's what they call it anyway, but I suspect it's more of a boy's night out in which they share tall tales and local gossip.”

  Josh came through the screen door and onto the porch. He was met again by the dogs and almost tripped over the little one.

  "Shoo," said Katy and waved them away. "Go sit in the corner. Don't be underfoot."

  “My folks didn't answer. I'll try again later, but I did leave a message on their answering machine. The rental company didn’t answer either. They had a recording telling their hours. Can you believe that?”

  “That’s the way it is out here. Everything pretty much closes up at night,” Mrs. Sullivan said.

  “We rented the car at the Tampa Airport. You would think they would have a twenty-four-hour emergency number. I guess it will be up to Barry and his tow truck,” said Maggie.

  “You’re probably right. Maybe there is something in the car that I missed." Josh drank the last of his drink. "This tea is fantastic. It’s got a different flavor. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it.”

  “It's true,” said Maggie. “What is that flavor?”

  “I put honey in it while it’s still warm. There’s orange blossom honey in this batch. We like it. Now, tell me what brings you out this way,” she asked.

  “We were in Arcadia checking out the antique shops.” Maggie sat her empty glass on the tray. “We were looking for something for our condo in Atlanta. I found several things to bring home.”

  “Atlanta, Georgia? You must be on vacation. I did a lot of traveling with my dad when I was young. Never did get to Atlanta though,” she replied. �
��I haven’t been to Arcadia in years. We used to go there a lot. They had some fine festivals back then. I remember going to a couple of rodeos out that way with Jesse and the kids when they were little.”

  “Has your family been on this farm a long time?” asked Josh.

  “Well, it belongs to my husband, Jesse. I came here with my father for the first time when I was twelve.” Mrs. Sullivan smiled, likely at some long ago memory.

  She picked up the blue pottery bowl with fresh green beans and turned them out on the table. She took a handful and began topping and tailing them as she rocked back and forth. The rhythmic squeak, the squeak of the chair blended naturally with the nearby orchestra of crickets and frogs.

  "Don't you love this time of night? A peaceful quiet settles over the farm. You can watch the bats fly in and out of that neglected old barn. She rested her hands on the rim of the cracked blue bowl in her lap, now almost filled with the prepared beans.

  Maggie refilled the three glasses and handed Josh his. She offered cookies to the others before taking her chair again.

  A little smile danced on Katy's wrinkled face as she remembered a day so long ago. We have time, would you like to hear the story of how I came to be at Honey Tree Farm? I remember that day as if it were yesterday,” she said wistfully.

  Chapter 6

  "They're here! They're here! The bees are here!" Jesse yelled, racing to the kitchen door and out to the farmyard; the screen door banging loudly in his wake. His mother and father came out to greet the visitors followed by three yapping dogs.

  A 1942 Chevy pickup turned into the farmyard. Once bright and shiny it was now an old, rusty red flatbed. As it crawled noisily along, a cloud of dust swirled around it. The gears of the truck ground painfully as it slowly came to rest. A big man in jeans and wrinkled plaid shirt hopped down. He took off his battered hat and slapped it against his thigh.