Honey Tree Farm

by Brenda Spalding

  Barry scratched his head as if trying to remember.

  "What they put together is, Brice got in his truck and went after Jesse and chased him most of the way home. Brice tried to run him off the road. He slammed into the back of Jesse’s, then pulled alongside to force him into a ditch. Jesse's Dodge had gouges and paint on it from Brice's truck.

  “Brice caught up with him about a mile from home. He broadsided him. They figured Jesse spun around a couple of times before catching the side of the ditch. He was going so fast he flipped over about eight times and landed in old man Culver’s cow pasture. Jesse was thrown clear, but he didn’t have a chance. By the time they got anyone out there he was gone.”

  “Oh, my God,” Maggie had tears in her eyes. Josh sat there stunned.

  “I was called to get the truck out of the field. It was a terrible sight,” Barry said.

  They had reached an intersection and Barry stopping for a red light.

  “What about Brice?” Josh asked.

  “He was able to limp home, somehow. His truck was there too. It was pretty beat up, as you can imagine. The police found Brice a few days later holed up in an old barn out by the Desoto Speedway. He was messed up too. He spent a few days in the hospital before they dragged him to jail.”

  “How was Mrs. Sullivan when they told her that Jesse was dead?”

  “That was the strangest thing. I called Travis and told him first. We wanted to be the ones to tell her before the cops came. She had supper all laid out on the table in the kitchen. Travis went in first and had her to sit down.

  “Grandma, I have some bad news for you.” He pulled out a chair sat beside her. “It’s about Grandpa. He’s had an accident with the truck. It’s bad. I’m sorry, Grandma, Grandpa’s dead.”

  “Don’t’ be silly, Travis,” Katy got up and walked to the sink. She started washing a cooking pot. Her back to us, she asks, “You two want to stay for supper? We have plenty. Barry you have to bring your Deidra by sometime. She’s such a nice girl.” Then she turned and headed out to the porch to look for Jesse.

  “Jesse, are you out there? Supper is getting cold.” The dogs ran around the yard looking for Jesse.

  “Miz Sullivan, It’s true. I saw the wreck myself. Jesse had a run in with Brice and ended up crashing in Culver’s cow pasture. He died before help arrived.”

  “Thanks for coming round, Barry. Travis, supper is on the table. Are you boys staying or not?”

  “Grandma, do you understand what we told you?" Travis took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in her eyes. He could see she wasn’t there.

  “Barry, I think she’s in shock. Call Dr. Farrell. Tell him what happened and ask him to come out, please.” Barry went to the phone in the hall and did as he was asked.

  Travis could hear me talking to the doctor and tried to get his Grandma to sit down. She wouldn't.

  “I'll fix us a nice cup of tea, okay? You get the cups.” She filled the kettle with water. Travis reached in the cupboard and got out three mugs.

  “Travis," she said, "We’ll need four cups. I imagine he'll be along soon."

  "I left when the doctor came. Miz Sullivan attended the funeral, but had this glazed look. She said to me how strange it was that Jesse missed the funeral.

  “Doc Farrell said she'd come around one of these days and to just be patient. But she’s been like that ever since. She’s the sweetest, most generous person I know, but she still believes that Jesse is coming back home."

  “Oh, the poor thing, to lose him like that,” Maggie patted her nose with a Kleenex.

  “Well, folks, we are just about there,” Barry hit the turn signal, the left green light blinked on.

  “There are my parents," said Josh, pointing.

  Barry pulled into the lot and put the truck in park. The three climbed down and stretched their legs.

  “Well, folks, it was nice to meet you,” Barry extended his hand. Josh thanked him. Maggie grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

  “Please. Will you let us know how Mrs. Sullivan is doing once in a while?"

  They heard the Beaumonts chattering as they approached.

  "It's just that after hearing her story...” Maggie couldn’t go on, but Barry knew what she meant even without the words.

  Chapter 32

  Mrs. Sullivan was restless after everyone left. The company was wonderful, but she was used to less excitement. There was nothing to do in the kitchen. She was tired but didn’t want to go up to bed just yet. At the screen door she called the dogs and let them in.

  “Why don't we sit on the porch for a spell,” she said to them. Tucker got a drink and Blue curled up on the floor beside her. "He'll be along soon.”

  She gathered up an afghan to throw over her shoulders and took a seat in her old rocker. Bella jumped into her lap.

  The light from the three-quart moon shown over the farm she had come to love, and the smell of orange blossoms filled the air.

  “This is the best time of the year isn’t it?” She sighed deeply.

  “It surly is.” She heard him say.

  “Well, it’s about time, Jesse. I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “I figure you’ve been waiting long.”

  He took her hand as he sat at the table beside her.

  “What kept you so long?" she scolded.

  “I had to wait for you to finish your story.”

  "Well, you're here and that's what matters." She closed her eyes and took a breath of the heady orange blossom atmosphere.

  “You rest now, my Katy. Your story has come to its end.”

  She smiled and sighed one last time.

  Epilogue

  Josh and Maggie never did make it back to Honey Tree Farm before they returned to Atlanta. In their condo Maggie unpacked while Josh sorted through the pile of mail they had picked up from the post office.

  “Maggie, here’s a letter from Florida. It's postmarked Arcadia.” Josh handed it to her.

  She tore the envelope open and took out the single sheet of paper. Tears welled up as she read the short note. Unable to speak, she handed it to Josh.

  As he read it, his voice shook with emotion.

  Dear Maggie and Josh,

  I’m sorry to tell you that my Grandma passed away during the night the day you left.

  The next morning, when I went to check on her she was in her rocker on the porch. It was sudden and peaceful. She had the most wonderful expression on her face. She always said that her Jesse would come home to her, and I believe that he did that night.

  I know she enjoyed her company and her story. She would want you to know.

  Sincerely,

  Travis Sullivan

  “Oh Josh,” Maggie sniffed, “She was such a sweet woman.”

  Josh held Maggie in his arms.

  “I was thinking,” Josh began. “Do we have to wait until Thanksgiving and have a big church wedding here in Atlanta? What if we had a small church wedding in a month or so?”

  “Josh, have you been reading my mind again?” Maggie smiled.

  In early May, Josh and Maggie stood on the steps of a little white church in Myakka. There before parents, friends, Barry and Deidra, Travis and his family, they heard the preacher say, “I now pronounce you man and wife and you may kiss the bride.”

  Acknowledgements

  I wish to thanks my editor Clarissa Thomasson for her help in the editing and formatting process. I could not have finished this book without her. I know I drove her crazy.

  I also wish to thank my friend and fellow author Nancy Buscher who did a lot of hand holding and advising. Thanks for being there and for all your support

  ABOUT BRENDA SPALDING

  Author Brenda Spalding was raised in Newton, Massachusetts. She traveled for many years with her military husband before settling in Bradenton, Florida.

  Brenda is a member of the National League of American Pen Women. She is the co-founder and current vice-president of ABCBooks4Children&Adults, Inc. ABC is
a nonprofit 501c3 networking organization for local authors and illustrators.

  She is the author of several children’s books and three adult mainstream novels with more on the way.

  Her children's books are meant to help the reader connect with the child and go beyond the book to explore the world around them.

  Her mainstream books are developed using her love of her Irish heritage and the history of the area in which she is setting her story.

  BOOKS BY BRENDA M. SPALDING

  It’s 1938; the carnival is in town, and a hurricane is on the way. Driving rain and floods create havoc in the small community as the hurricane races closer.

  The winds howl, and cultures clash when Michael Flannigan falls for beautiful Russian fortune teller, Dania. Oldest child in a strong Irish family, Michael must prove himself to his family and to Dania’s stubborn father, Boris Koslov.

  Local lad, Johnny Russo, is found dead in Silver Lake, and the police suspect someone from the carnival is involved. The killer is on the run. Will he escape both the police and the forces of nature?

  The carnival will move on, but the ‘The Lake’ area of Newton, Massachusetts, will be changed forever.

  The young locals have picked up the language of the carnivals and made it their own. ‘The Lake Language is now a proud tradition passed down through the families and is still in use today.

  During Gran’s funeral, Megan is informed that her grandmothers’ death might not have been an accident. Are there ghosts moving things in the house? Her Gran thought maybe or it could be just old age. Do ghosts kill people?

  In her grandmother’s will, Megan receives a valuable Irish Claddagh ring and her grandmother’s house. Megan starts to have visions of past events. Did she live in another time?

  Rescued by a stranger from a speeding car, Megan feels a timeless connection to her rescuer she can’t explain. Together, they try to solve the mysteries that surround her Gran’s death. Gran’s friend, Clarissa, is also murdered. Did she have answers someone didn’t want Megan to find out? Who can she trust?

  Working with curious riddles left by Megan’s ancestors over one hundred and fifty years before, they follow clues leading to the discovery of a lost family treasure and a future they never dreamed of.

  An Excerpt of

  BROKEN BRANCHES

  (THE GREEN LADY INN BOOK 1)

  by

  BRENDA M SPALDING

  Chapter 1

  "Okay, Gran, I promise. I'll come up to Salem this weekend for sure," Megan said, perched on the corner of her mother's old antique desk—her long legs dangling over the side.

  She glanced at her calendar and thought about all she had to arrange for her art gallery to function in her absence. Her assistants were great; she just had to make sure they knew what needed to be done. After all, it would be only for a weekend. Today was Tuesday the fifteenth—the Ides of October. She frowned, hoping that wasn't a bad omen. No, there was plenty of time to get things organized.

  Megan had a growing reputation as a brilliant watercolorist. She had a classroom/studio in the back, and her classes were always full—with a waiting list of students trying to get in.

  "Sorry to cut this short, Gran, but I have a lot to do if I'm going to take time off for a visit. I should have planned to visit before now."

  "Yes, dear, I know how busy you are with the gallery and all. But I've got to talk to you about something. It really can’t wait any longer. I’m not getting any younger, and there are things you need to know. I need your help, and I’d rather just...” Gran’s voice trailed off.

  “Gran, are you there?” Only silence answered Megan for a moment.

  Then Megan’s grandmother whispered into the phone, “I heard something upstairs.” She paused to listen. Lately she’d heard a lot of strange sounds in the old house. The house had been in her family for generations.

  “Sorry, I thought I heard something again.”

  “What do you mean ‘again?’ Gran, what did you hear?”

  “Got to go! See you soon!”

  Megan stared at the unresponsive phone in her hand. “What the hell was that all about?” she shrugged.

  Megan went back to work on the papers before her. Later she called her grandmother back but got no answer. Megan was a bit concerned after their last conversation but she knew Gran had friends she often went out with. She made a mental note to try again later.

  “Now for these invoices, or I’m not going anywhere. I really do need to hire a bookkeeper.” Megan said to an empty room. She busied herself with paperwork and the business of running a successful gallery for the rest of the day. In between she looked up flights from New York to Boston, checking times and prices. All the while, disturbing questions about her grandmother and the strange ending to their conversation invaded her thoughts.

  *****

  Megan’s grandmother hung up the phone and stood there, listening, waiting to see if the sounds she had heard would repeat. I must be losing it for real, she thought.

  Then she heard it again, a noise like furniture being dragged across the floor. It was coming from the attic above her. Quietly and as quickly as she could manage, she pulled herself up the stairs using the handrail. She stopped on the landing to catch her breath and listened again. She hadn’t been upstairs much in the last few years.

  There it was again. Definitely the attic, she assured herself. Reaching the top of the

  stairs, she walked down the hallway and eased open the attic door. She was positive someone was up there. Deciding to go down and call the police she turned, caught her foot on the carpet and bumped her elbow hard on the door frame—sending a painful zing up her arm.

  “Ow! Damn, that hurt,” she whispered, hoping her stifled exclamation hadn’t been heard in the attic. She held her breath and waited, praying she could get away before being caught.

  Shuffling down the hall, she heard someone rushing down the attic stairs. She made it to the top of the stairs when she felt a hand grip her shoulder and shove her hard.

  Chapter 2

  The answer to Megan’s unanswered questions came the next morning. Salem police called to inform her that Corey Elizabeth Bishop, Megan’s grandmother, had been found dead at the bottom of her stairs.

  She was sitting there trying to absorb what the police had told her when Megan’s assistant, Jennifer, knocked on her office door. Walking in, she found her boss sitting behind her desk, softly crying. “Megan what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “That call was from the Salem police up in Massachusetts. My grandmother had an accident at home and died. I can’t believe it. I only talked to her yesterday. You know I told you I was planning to go up this weekend. I’ve not visited her in a while, and she had something to tell me.” Megan choked out between sobs while wiping her tears. “I knew she was getting on, but I didn’t think she was that bad.”

  Megan took a tissue from the box Jennifer handed her and took a deep breath. “Jen, I’m going to have to take some time off to deal with this. Oh, God, Jen, how do people do this? I can’t even think straight right now.”

  “Don’t worry about the gallery,” Jennifer said. “You go take care of things up there. We’ll take care of things here. Annie can handle the invoices. The current exhibition will be up for a few more weeks. By then you should be back.”

  Jennifer handed Megan more tissues, helped her with her coat and walked her out. “You have a good team here, and we can reach you on your cell if we have any questions.” They hugged and Jennifer watched Megan walk slowly down the street.

  She took the subway home lost in thought about the wonderful times she’d had at her Gran’s house. As a child she had spent a couple weeks there every summer. Hand in hand they would walk the beach looking for the best shells to decorate the towering sand castles they built together.

  Recalling those summers brought her parents to mind. Years ago, they had been killed by a drunk driver. A Sunday trip to the Hamptons, checking out a new gallery had m
ade Megan an orphan.

  Back in her apartment, she flopped down in a chair and cried again softly. The shock of the news was wearing off. She started making mental notes of all she needed to arrange. She spent time looking up funeral homes in Salem. She chose one and gave them a call. The director was wonderful and promised to take care of most of the details. Then she called Delta and booked a flight to Boston for the next day.

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  Did you love Honey Tree Farm? Then you should read Blood Orange by Brenda Spalding!

  Cocaine and the problems it brings are coming to rural Florida. It falls to Sheriff Gabe McAllister to find a way to stop the drugs from entering his county.A brave young woman, Nora Hollister, stands by his side in this fight to stop the Medline Cartel led by Pablo Escobar. Together they try to protect their way of life and of those who work the groves. The DEA sends in their agents to help with a war on drugs and the dangerous Cartel that is moving in.In 1986 the Florida Orange groves are the drop zones for tons of illegal drugs. Anyone that stands in their way is killed. Nora's neighbor becomes a causality and she is determined to make them pay.Along the way, flirtation turns to love and the sheriff has more on his mind than catching the drug dealers.

  Read more at Brenda Spalding’s site.