Short Story Sunday: Latchberry Farm

 

The breeze carried the scent of the forest into Sasha’s bedroom. The curtains billowed against the sash window, seeming to resist the fragrance of greenery after the rain. Sasha’s reverie was interrupted by the weight of Fred, the Golden Retriever, landing on her bed. 

 

            “Easy, boy.” She patted his head and he panted his greeting. Fred’s legs were stained green from his morning mooch in the forest. “What did you find?”

            Fred looked towards the door and jumped off the bed, his paws tapping his excitement on the floor planks. Sasha smiled to herself. It was about time she got up too. She listened to the birdsong bragging about new beginnings and new places to nest. Fred pushed his nose against her hand. “What is it?”

            A piece of wood jutted out of his mouth.

            “Give it, boy.”

            Fred dropped it on the bed. It was a wooden candlestick and had been carved to look like a tree from the forest. She sat up and leant against the headboard. Fred clambered beside her, staining the sheets with mossy paws.

“Where did you get this, Freddy?”

When she turned it over in her hands, she had an inkling of whose handiwork it was. She could smell the wood oil despite Fred’s generous gob. Two letters were etched on the bottom. So it was him. She had hoped her distance would scare him off, and it was no accident that Beatrice Arbiter had paid him special attention at the last town meeting. Beatrice was the sort who could make him happy; she oozed desperation for a home and family and made no secret of how stifling she found her father’s house.

“Will you take your tea in bed today, ma’am?” It was Susie, the housemaid.

“What time is it, Sooz?”

“Just gone six-thirty, ma’am. I was wanting to start looking for mushrooms in the forest, but I didn’t want to leave without doing my duties.”

Trust Susie to remember her manners. “Don’t worry, Sooz. I shall be down shortly.”

Susie spotted the candlestick. “So you found it, ma’am? It was outside on the porch. I think Fred thought it was one of them sticks for throwing.”

Sasha rubbed the hound’s head. “Of course he would. Silly old Fred.”

Fred raised his head at the sound of his name and then settled back in for his nap.

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Thank you, Sooz. Please leave my breakfast on the table. I’ll be down soon.”

Susie curtseyed and left, her heels hammering on the landing.

Sasha got the feeling that Susie would have liked her to entertain the story of the candlestick a while longer. She admired the grooves in the wood and ran her thumb over the initials again. When would he learn that she was not the one for him?

A piece of paper fluttered out of the candle end of the stick and landed on bedspread. The writer had pressed hard and the pencil had dented the paper with words.

Wherever you go, I will light your way.

Sasha groaned. Clearly Beatrice had not won his heart. She threw open the sheets, covering Fred in layers of cotton and her own body heat, and stomped across the floor to her window.

“Confounded man!” She hoped her voice would carry across the forest.

The leather gloves creaked against the wire. Jacob was fortifying the fence along the perimeter. He suspected Old Man Joe’s nephews were responsible for the latest hole as they stole into his orchard to pilfer oranges for their games of “Truth or Dare”. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. The rains had been good but he was never a fan of the mud that followed even though his sheep seemed to love it. He knew he’d wash out at least an acre of sand once shearing started.

            “Boss.”

            It was his station hand, Hugh.

            “Morning. I trust mother and child are well.”

            “Indeed.” Hugh’s smile betrayed his pride. “I was wondering whether you needed me today. Fanny was hoping I could spend it with her.”

            “Of course. Take the rest of the week off. I’ll manage.”

            “No, sir, that is, I wondered if George could help out while I am away.” Hugh gestured to his cousin who was standing a few paces behind him.

            “You can vouch for him?”

            “Yessir. He’s almost as good as me. And I thought we could use the extra pair of hands with the weather changing.”

            “I’m glad I can depend on you to think ahead, Hugh. All right, let’s meet him.”

            George stepped forward, cap in hand. “Morning.”

            “Pleasure to meet you, George. How are you with pliers?” He looked at Hugh. “Come on, Daddy. Get home to your wife.”

Hugh nodded and retreated. George replaced his cap and retrieved gloves from his jacket pocket. “The wire is going to snap here, sir.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            “It’s too tight. It won’t last the first frost. It needs room to expand and contract.”

            “Well, aren’t you the scientist? Good job, George.” He glanced at the forest. “Look, you finish mending this and I’ll see you back at the house.” He handed the pliers to him and gestured at the wire. “I was thinking we’ve got to make sure Old Man Joe’s boys don’t come round here again soon.”

            George nodded. “How much wire can I use?”

            “Why?”

            “I want to make barbs.”

            “Then use as much as you need.” He waved and walked in the direction of the farm house. He could smell cinnamon as he approached. He was late for breakfast.

            “Jacob. I was just about to send out a search party.”

            “Sorry, mother. I got sidetracked showing George where to fix the fence.”

            “George? So he’s staying.” She gestured at the table and invited him to sit. There were boiled eggs, bread in a basket, mugs of coffee and assorted cutlery on the table.

            “Hugh will vouch for him, and we could use the extra help.”

            “Yes. I took round some bread and cheese this morning. Fanny looks exhausted, but she and the baby are well.” She placed jam and butter next to the bread.

            “I gave Hugh the rest of the week off. He should spend time with them.” Jacob nibbled on a crust. “He deserves it.”

            “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man more in love than he is with that baby.” Amelia placed one bowl of porridge in front of Jacob and another at the head of the table, where she sat.

            “You know that’s not true, mother. Dad loved you the same.”

            “All right, I take it back.” She sat down and chewed her porridge. “Any word from Latchberry Farm?”

            “No. Were you expecting something?”

            “Don’t play innocent, Jacob. I know you went there at the crack of dawn. You left mossy prints in front of the hearth.”

            “Guilty as charged. I thought you liked Sasha.”

            “I do. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” She watched him eat. “Anyway, what happened with Beatrice at the last town meeting? Helen Twell said she was all over you like a rash.”

            “Nothing happened. I think she got the idea I might be interested in her, so I set her right.”

            “I wonder where she got that idea from.”

            “Leave it, mother.”

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “Good, then finish your breakfast.”

            George tapped on the door. “All finished, sir.”

            Jacob stood. “Good, come in. Have some breakfast with us.”

            “Very kind of you to offer sir, ma’am. I already ate. I’m going to check on the barn. Hugh said it needs mucking out.” He touched the rim of his cap and headed off.

            “He’s a dark horse, that one. More coffee?” Amelia stood to refill her mug.

            “Thanks, but no. I think I had better get back to work.” His chair scraped the floor. “Great breakfast, mom. Thanks.” He pecked her cheek and grabbed a hunk of bread on his way out.

            Amelia leant against the range and watched her son walk across the yard. It didn’t matter how old he got, she still felt that instinct to protect him. From the world in general, and from Sasha in particular.

Sasha leant against the side of the trough she’d adopted as her bath. The water was piping around her and the lanolin in the water acted as a balm to soothe her muscles. She felt the satisfying exhaustion that came from working hard all day. The men often muttered, when they thought she was out of earshot, that she made them look bad because she worked harder than most. Susie also enjoyed relaying the village gossip about how her mistress was putting the other farmers to shame because she deigned to work rather than attend to her pianoforte or sewing as the other wives in the district did.

            Sasha knew she posed a threat to the ladies of leisure because she mingled so well in the company of men. In fact, she preferred their conversation to trying to discover whose jam recipe was best, or which dressmaker enhanced the female form in the most flattering way. Her father had always taught her to be self-sufficient, and she demonstrated her gratitude to him every day by tending to her duties on the farm.

            “Ready to get out of your bath, ma’am?”

            “No, Sooz. I think I’ll sit here a while longer.”

            “No disrespect, ma’am, but you’ll prune.”

            Sasha laughed.

            “I’ll give you ten more minutes.”

            “Thank you, Bossy.”

            Susie snorted and Sasha listened to her heels clip the floor. She closed her eyes and willed her muscles to loosen their knots.

Voices made her jolt. She must have drifted off. The footsteps on the landing didn’t belong to Susie. She drew her knees to her chest.

            “Sooz?”

            “No, Jacob.”

            She heard Susie’s boots. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I tried to stop him.” Susie was breathless.

            “Jacob, please wait downstairs. You can see I’m hardly in any condition to receive visitors.” Sasha didn’t dare turn to look at him. She hoped the trough was high enough to preserve her modesty.

            Jacob sighed. Sasha heard his footfalls retreat.

            Susie moved to stand opposite her. “Ma’am, please don’t be angry. He asked me to borrow some sugar and then when I went to get it he came upstairs.”

            “Don’t worry about that. Just help me get dressed.”

Jacob perched on the chair by the fire. He was pleased to see that his candlestick had received a position of honour next to the photograph of Edward, Sasha’s father, on the mantelpiece. The shuffling overhead indicated that Sasha was making herself presentable. Susie’s nasal exclamations punctuated the silence. He prodded the wood in the hearth and looked for more to feed the flames. Susie clearly hadn’t refilled the holder. He placed his hat on the seat and went outside to the woodpile. Once he’d gathered an armful, and more than sufficient for the rest of the night, he looked up. Sasha was standing in the window and the lamplight framed her features. She seemed to be counting the stars and her nightgown was diaphanous on her body. Jacob swallowed and averted his eyes.

            Susie was waiting for him inside.

            “Oh. I hoped you had gone. I mean, I thought you had gone.”

            “You needed wood.” He dumped the logs next to the hearth and placed some of the thinner pieces on the coals. The wood popped and crackled. He heard the stairs creak behind him and he smelled the lanolin on her skin.

            “Thanks, Sooz. You can go.” Sasha’s braid was draped over her shoulder. The chestnut locks glowed in the firelight.

            “I can stay, ma’am.” Susie looked at Jacob.

            “It’s fine. Thanks for offering.”

            Susie scowled as she retrieved her shawl from where it hung on the pantry door. She slammed the front door louder than she meant to as she left.

            Sasha remained standing on the last step, her hand resting on the banister. “Why are you here?”

            “I wanted to check that Fred hadn’t buried my gift in his graveyard of bones.” He glanced at the mantelpiece. “I see it arrived.”

            “It did.”

            “I waited all day for an acknowledgement. Or a thank you.”

            Her eyes shone. “Thank you, Jacob.”

            He turned and prodded the wood in the hearth with a poker. “I see the paper is no longer where I left it.”

            “Yes.”

            “Which means you saw what I wrote.”

            “Yes.”

            He turned to her, his features softened.

She felt her heart clench. “I didn’t know what to say.”

            Jacob laughed. “That’s not true. You always know what to say.” He picked up his hat and sat in the armchair. “Come and sit by the fire, Sasha. You need to stay warm.” He rested his hat on his knee.

            She considered whether staying put might get him to leave sooner and decided that playing along might be the speedier option. She took the seat opposite him.

            “Confounded man.” He looked at her. “That was what you said.”

            She began to protest.

            “Don’t deny it. I heard you. I was waiting in the tree line.”

            “What do you want, Jacob? You seem to know the answers to all the questions you pose to me. In fact, you may as well be having this conversation on your own since you can speak for both of us.” Sasha stood and stroked the frame with her father’s face. She wondered what he would have said if he were alive to witness this turn of events.

            “I want you, Sasha.”

            The slamming of the door made her whip her head. He was gone but he’d left his hat where he had been sitting. Damn, now she’d have to return it. She picked up the hat and saw an object wrapped in linen. It looked like another candlestick. Sasha placed his hat on the arm of the chair and began removing the outer layer of cloth. The wood scent became stronger until the candlestick disentangled itself and landed on her palm. She instinctively felt for the initials along the bottom with her thumb. Another piece of paper stuck out of the holder where the candle would have been. She pulled it out with her free hand and then placed the candlestick next to its twin on the mantelpiece.

            Wherever you lead, I will follow.

            Sasha smiled into the paper as she raised it to her face. It smelt of the forest, of wood, of fresh air and of Jacob.

Jacob stayed on the porch, watching her delight in his gift. His heart swelled when she picked up his hat and carried it upstairs. With any luck, it would soon be him making that same trip with her in his arms. He began his trek home, pausing only to see her in the window, wishing on the stars. He hoped she was wishing for him as he wished for her. His face split into a smile and his love for her warmed him despite the chill in the air. He didn’t see how the moon turned the forest silver or that the fireflies guided him back along the path until he arrived at home.

End of Part One.