Homeward Read online

  “Not to mention the expense,” Cal added.

  “Any luck finding a buyer for the berries yet, Cal?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “It’s awful hard getting in so late. You know most folks get set up a year or more in advance. The lucky ones have ongoing commitments from the big buyers. Your granddad used to be one of those lucky ones.”

  “I know. But surely there’s someone who will want the berries. We couldn’t have come this far for nothing.”

  Cal rubbed his chin. “Maybe this is going to be one of those blind faith things where you just gotta trust God.”

  Meg picked up her bag and tried to smile. “I usually do have to learn things the hard way, Cal.”

  “Some folks say the school of hard knocks produces the best results.”

  “Or at least the lumpiest heads. Thanks, Cal.”

  Meg drove straight over to Briar Hedge and up to the bog. Naturally, there was no sign of frost this early in the afternoon. In fact, it was hard to believe it could even be possible; the sky was clear, and the air was warm from the sun. Meg strolled around the bogs, drinking in the sweet fragrance. The tender blossoms blanketed the bogs like fluffy white quilts. Cal had been pleasantly surprised at the number of blossoms. If all went well, it would be a pretty good harvest.

  Meg was about to grab the pruning shears to cut back some overzealous blackberries when a strange sound made her stop. She cocked her head to one side and listened for a long moment. It was a gushing sound, like the sound of water running. She walked up toward the big sump pond that was used for irrigation and that would provide the needed water for harvest. If there was a frost tonight, Meg would need its water to cover the plants in order to keep them from freezing. The pond was fed by a stream shared by a number of cranberry growers, the same precious stream she had worked so hard to preserve water rights for.

  When Meg reached the sump pond, the water level was way down. Water was pouring freely over an opened gate and down the stream that led to the next holding pond, which happened to be someone else’s farm. She dashed over and tried to force the wooden gate back into place, but it was open wide, and the sheer force of the water made it impossible to budge. Finally she jumped into the pond and used her body to slow the fast-running water as she tried to shove the gate back into place.

  After what seemed like years in the frigid water, Meg finally got the gate closed and climbed out of the pond, soaked and freezing cold. Exhausted, she slumped to the ground. As she sat in the dirt trying to catch her breath, she realized that the water level had been reduced to about a third of what it had been. She stared hard at the gate. It had not come open on its own. Someone had sabotaged it, and she had a pretty good idea who that someone might be.

  Despite her bedraggled appearance, she wanted to settle this now. Meg walked over to her Jeep, telling herself she would remain calm and make no accusations. She would simply ask Abner if he had any idea who might have done such a thing. Or maybe she would ask him if he had seen anyone prowling around the property.

  She drove quickly down the hill, trying to control her anger as she watched the muddy water dripping from her clothes and soaking into the upholstery of her Jeep.

  “Hi, Meg,” called Phoebe, waving happily as Meg hopped out and walked toward the house. Phoebe was sweeping the front porch. “I was just thinking of an idea—my goodness, Meg, you look like a drowned rat. What in tarnation have you been doing?”

  “Trying to save my water,” said Meg in a tight voice. “Is Abner home?”

  “No, he left this morning. Don’t know when he’ll be back. Are you all right, Meg?”

  Meg flopped down on the porch steps in a wet heap. “No, I’m not all right. I’m really mad. Someone opened the water gate at the sump pond, and I’ve lost nearly all my water. And Cal said there’s a chance of frost tonight, which means I’ll need that water to keep my plants from freezing.”

  Phoebe’s forehead creased with concern. “Oh, dear, Meg. What can we do to help? Do you suppose we could run hoses from the house and fill up the pond again?”

  Meg almost smiled. “Thanks, Phoebe, but that would probably take several days and about a mile’s worth of hoses, and I doubt Abner would appreciate it.”

  “No, you’re probably right about that. You don’t think—”

  “I know who did it,” said Jason solemnly as he pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. “I saw Dad park up there this morning and walk over to the pond. I didn’t know what he was doing, or I sure would have gone up and closed it for you, Meg.”

  “I’m so sorry, Meg,” gasped Phoebe. “And I’m so ashamed. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “It isn’t your fault, Phoebe,” said Meg woodenly. “I just don’t know what to do about it. I tried to look the other way when I learned he had sold off the farming equipment, but this is much worse.” She paused. “Do you think it would do any good if Grandmother were to speak to him?”

  “I don’t think she would stand up to him, Meg,” said Phoebe sadly. “Hardly anyone stands up to him. Except for you.” Phoebe looked at Meg from the corner of her eye. “And you know what that’s like.…”

  “I’ll stand up to him,” said Jason with fire in his eyes.

  “No, Jason,” said Meg calmly. “I don’t want this to come between you and your dad. This is my problem.”

  “Well, it just ain’t fair!” said Jason. He stomped off the porch, and a moment later they heard the roar of his motorbike.

  “He’ll be okay,” said Phoebe in answer to Meg’s worried face. “He just needs to blow off some steam.”

  “I can relate to that,” said Meg. She turned to Phoebe and tried to smile. “You know, I’d probably feel a whole lot better if you had something warm and wonderful and sweet just out of the oven, Phoebe.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place, Meg. Come on in.”

  “I can’t, Phoebe. Look at me. I’m all wet and muddy.”

  “Nonsense. We don’t have that ugly brown carpet for nothing. Abner comes in dirty all the time. In fact, you can sit in his chair, and I hope you get it all muddy and wet, too.” Phoebe grinned with a spark of mischief in her eye.

  Meg went inside and got a small measure of satisfaction from messing up Abner’s chair. As usual, Phoebe’s baking was exceptional. Today she had made oatmeal cookies with cranberries, from one of Grandpa’s recipes that Meg had given her.

  “Since you’re here, Meg, I want you to hear my idea. Of course, I wouldn’t do it without your permission.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “I’d like to put all your grandpa’s recipes onto our computer. Abner bought the crazy thing for the business, but he never learned to use it. I’ve taken some correspondence courses, and I’m no whiz at it, but at least I can use the word processor. Anyway, I’d like to try to organize the recipes into a cookbook. Maybe I could insert some bits and pieces of local history about the bogs, and even some old photos. I’ve been trying out the recipes with cranberries I have in my freezer. And they are good. And what better place to sell a cranberry cookbook than Crandale?”

  “Phoebe, I think that’s a super idea. Of course you can have my permission.”

  “Can we be partners in it, Meg?”

  “Sure, if you want to. But it seems like you’ll be doing most of the work, Phoebe.”

  “But they are your recipes, Meg. And I’d love to have any help you could give me.”

  “Well, it sounds like a good partnership, Phoebe.” Meg stood and shook her hand.

  “Thanks, Meg,” said Phoebe. “And I’m real sorry about the water problem. If there’s anything I can do…”

  “No, Phoebe. And please don’t mention this to Abner. I don’t want you to get caught in the middle. But I do plan to talk to Grandmother. She needs to know what’s going on.”

  “You’re right, Meg.”

  “And please tell Jason not to worry. Everything will be okay.”

  THIRTY


  After leaving Phoebe’s, Meg stopped by to talk to Grandmother, but Rosa said she was napping. Meg decided to go back into town to gather supplies for spending the night up at the bog. She had never spent the night there before, and she felt excited, like she was going on an adventure, but she was still concerned about the water level. Would there be enough water pressure to run the irrigation system if she needed to ward off the freeze? She stopped by the Feed and Seed to discuss the problem with Cal.

  “Boy, Meggie, I don’t know,” said Cal with a frown. “If it’s just a one-night freeze, you may be okay. But if it hits a second or third night, you could be in for some trouble. Let me call around and see what I can do. It’s a dirty shame, Meg.”

  Meg hadn’t told Cal that she suspected Abner, but she felt pretty sure that Cal would have his own ideas anyway. She put the gear she’d purchased into the Jeep and headed back to Briar Hedge. She carried everything up to the cabin and flung open the door to air the place out. Erin’s girls had played house in it quite a bit lately, and it was pretty neat from their little sweeping and dusting binges. There was even a wilted bouquet of flowers sitting in a tin can on the wobbly metal card table. Meg smiled as she tossed the drooping flowers out the door, grateful for her nieces’ domestic efforts.

  She set up her new kerosene lantern, sleeping bag, and other camping supplies. She had never been much of a camper, but she remembered Grandpa used to have all sorts of useful items on hand to get him through cold nights when he was watching for a freeze. She glanced around the small room with satisfaction. Now all she needed was enough firewood to keep the tiny woodstove going so she didn’t freeze. She knew there was a stack of old wood next to Grandmother’s back porch, so she drove back down the hill, hoping Grandmother had woken up from her nap by now.

  Meg poked her head in the kitchen door and greeted Rosa. “I’m spending the night at the bog tonight,” she explained. “Do you mind if I take some firewood?”

  “I wish you would take that whole pile,” said Rosa. “Your grandmother doesn’t want me to make fires in the fireplace anymore; she says it gives her bronchitis. Right now the only thing that pile is good for is for rats to hide in. Why are you staying at the bog, Meggie?”

  Meg began to pick up some pieces of wood. “There could be a freeze tonight, and I need to be there to turn on the irrigation. Hopefully by next year we’ll be able to afford a good thermostat system that will turn on automatically.”

  “Here,” said Rosa, grabbing several chunks of wood. “Let me help you.” By the time they finished loading the wood into the back of the Jeep, Meg thought she had enough to last for several nights.

  “Thanks, Rosa,” said Meg, brushing wood chips off her jeans. “Is Grandmother up now?”

  “She’s up, but I don’t think she’s feeling too great, Meg. She’s been moving real slow lately. And she’s been acting kind of strange, too. You know, Abner was here several days ago, and I think it might have upset her.”

  “Do you suppose it would be okay if I talked with her?” asked Meg. She was suddenly uncertain about the wisdom of mentioning Abner’s most recent activities.

  “Oh, sure. She’s always so glad to see you, Meg. Do you want to stay for dinner tonight? I’ve got some nice red snapper I’m going to fry up.”

  “Sounds good, Rosa. Thanks.”

  Meg washed her hands and tiptoed into Grandmother’s room. The old woman was sitting up with her eyes wide open, but she had a blank stare on her face.

  “Hi, Grandmother,” said Meg. But Grandmother didn’t even look at her. Meg sat down and waited a long moment. “How are you doing today?” she asked finally.

  Grandmother slowly shook her head. “Not well, Meggie,” she said in a raspy voice. “Not well at all.”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Meg. “Has the doctor been by to see you?”

  “It’s my heart, Meggie. Ready to quit on me. Could be any day now.”

  Meg leaned over and looked into Grandmother’s pale eyes. Was she serious? Was something really wrong? Only a week ago, Grandmother had been as lively as ever. “Is there anything I can do for you, Grandmother?” Meg asked with growing concern.

  “No,” said Grandmother slowly. “Nothing anyone can do. I’m just too old. And I’m getting feebleminded, too. I couldn’t even remember the names of Erin’s girls today. Pretty soon, I won’t even know my own name.”

  “Don’t say that, Grandmother.”

  “It’s true, Meg. My mind is wandering something terrible. I woke up from my nap and started to call Sunny on the phone.” Grandmother broke into sobs. “But I can’t. My baby is gone. Both my babies are gone. I need to go to them. My time’s a-coming.”

  Meg didn’t know what to say. She had never seen Grandmother like this before. She reached out and took the old woman’s hand and held it in her own, wishing for the right words to say to make everything better, but none would come. Finally she looked up to see Grandmother leaning back against the pillow, eyes closed and apparently sleeping. Meg gently released her hand and went to join Rosa in the kitchen.

  “Rosa, you’re right. Something does seem to be wrong with Grandmother. I think you should call her doctor in the morning. Maybe he should check her medication or something.”

  Rosa flipped the fillets in the big cast-iron frying pan. “Okay, Meggie, I’ll give him a call. But you know, she is getting old. It may just be life taking its course.”

  “I suppose. But she had been doing so well, and this seems to have come on so suddenly.”

  Meg ate by herself in the kitchen while Rosa watched Wheel of Fortune. Grandmother was still asleep. Finally, Meg rinsed off her plate and said good-bye to Rosa before heading up to the cabin. She started a fire to ward off the chill that she knew was coming. It was still light out and would be for a couple of hours, so she decided to start cutting back the blackberry vines that were trying to creep into the east bogs. After she’d made a good start on the vines, it became too dark to see, so she put her tools away and watched as the clear sky began to fill with bright stars. It was definitely getting colder, but when she checked the temperature gauges, they showed that it was still well above fifty. She knew it wouldn’t get really low until the early morning hours, and she figured it would be smart to get in a few hours of sleep before that. The cabin was toasty, and soon she had the kerosene lantern glowing warmly. She set her alarm clock for 2:00 a.m., then lay down and read until she fell asleep.

  She awoke with a start, but it wasn’t the alarm clock that disturbed her. The lantern had burned out, and in the darkness she could hear the roar of an engine and then the crash of breaking glass. She lay frozen in bed, too frightened to move or breathe, listening to the night with a pounding heart as another piece of glass shattered, then another. Finally, the engine roared up again, followed by the sound of tires spinning through loose gravel. And then all was silent.

  Meg silently crept out of her sleeping bag and peered out the window to see red taillights disappearing over the rise that led to Abner’s place. Of course, it must have been Abner. The breaking glass was probably just him throwing out his old beer bottles. She took a deep breath and willed her heart to return to its normal beat.

  She looked at the clock. It wasn’t two o’clock yet, but she decided to check the temperature gauges as long as she was awake. She grabbed her flashlight like a weapon and went outside. She was not about to let Abner keep her from watching over her berries. She walked to each bog, using her flashlight to check the gauges. The coldest one was just below forty degrees, and she knew that was getting close to the danger zone. Cal had said that if it reached below the midthirties, it was time to start the sprinklers running. But she knew she didn’t want to start too soon because of her limited water supply. It was possible that this freeze could last more than one night. She looked up into the starlit night and whispered a prayer.

  “God, you know what I need better than I do. But I really don’t want to lose these blossoms to a freeze, and I’m worrie
d about having enough water. Please help me to know what’s the best thing to do, and to do it. Thanks.”

  To her mind, it seemed like a silly little prayer, but it felt right to her heart. She went back to the cabin and waited, reading from the little New Testament that Matthew had given her, and tried not to think about Abner’s behavior. He was just a harmless drunk, she tried to convince herself. Besides, God was watching out for her.

  At two-thirty, she went out to check again. This time she started with the bog that had been the coldest. Thirty-three degrees. It was time to turn on the irrigation. She dashed back to the pump house and turned on the pump that would start the sprinklers. One by one they came on. At least there was enough water pressure for now. She would worry about tomorrow later.

  She sat down on a stump and watched as the water sprayed out with its rhythmic chinka-chinka sound. The droplets of water were illuminated by a nearly full moon. She wished she could capture its beauty on film. Perhaps with a tripod and a manual shutter. For now, she would just enjoy the spectacle with her own eyes. She knew that if the temperature continued to drop, the plants would begin to be coated with a thin covering of ice. It seemed a strange remedy to prevent freeze damage, but she knew it was the standard way. It was exactly what Grandpa used to do, although she had never been allowed to stay up long enough to see it herself. But Grandpa had described to her how the ice-coating process actually produced and then trapped heat in the plants, protecting them from the colder temperatures of the freezing air.

  Soon she was forced to return to the cabin to get warm. After half an hour she went out to see how the plants were doing. To her amazement, it had happened. The plants were now coated with a layer of sparkling ice. It looked just like the middle of winter, yet it was June. She sat for a long time, watching in amazement, until the cold got to her and she was forced back into the cabin. She checked the plants off and on throughout the rest of the predawn hours. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but like a mother fretting over a sick child, she watched over the bog and longed for the morning sunlight.