Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm. Rebecca Raisin
is.” I pursed my lips.
He took two steps toward me and stood so close I could feel his breath on my face. My pulse quickened—for one second I thought he was going to kiss me. He said, “You think you can handle it?”
Shivers coursed through me. “I can handle anything,” I managed, gulping at his proximity. I didn’t know if he was referring to the job? Or himself? I was in two minds whether I could handle either, but the thought of getting back on a bus and being in the same predicament elsewhere firmed my resolve. There was no chance I’d let a guy like him peg me for a fool. I hadn’t worked my butt off my whole life to be judged on the spot by the likes of him.
“I bet.” He looked so deeply into my eyes I was sure my heart stopped.
I blinked rapidly and said, “I need a job. This job, and I’m not leaving until you say yes.”
A rivulet of sweat ran down his forehead. “Your threats usually work with other people?”
“Yes.” Well technically no. I was never in the position to threaten anyone, always relying on the mercy of managers, or landlords. I wasn’t desperate enough to let anyone hold anything over me, though. My pride wouldn’t allow that.
“Look, I don’t know who you are…”
“I’m Lucy,” I said levelly. If I didn’t find work, I wouldn’t have much more than the bus fare home. The universe wouldn’t provide, and I’d scurry back, tail between my legs, having failed and broken my promise. That would upset Mom. She’d think I did it on purpose because I wanted to be with her. “So what do you say?” I flashed him a smile, hoping it would lighten the tension that hung between us like fog.
“I need someone who can haul logs, and drive a tractor, help tap the maples. Somehow I can’t see you doing that, in your finery.” He flicked a hand toward me. Why the heck didn’t I change clothes? And finery? He was only wearing a pair of jeans when I walked in, in the middle of winter!
“I have other clothes, obviously.”
“Goodbye, Lucy.” He went back to the stereo and turned the music up to an ear-piercing level.
I wanted to shriek at him. Just once, I’d love for one person to give me a break, a chance. Instead, I stomped to the stereo and switched it off.
He spun to me, his eyes blazing. “What’s your problem?” He pressed his lips together.
How dare he! I pushed myself up close and poked a finger into his chest. “You’re my problem. Is this because I’m a girl? What, you don’t think women can work as hard as men?” If there was one thing I’d learned from my mom it was that I could do anything I set my mind to, and I wouldn’t allow a man to tell me otherwise.
The muscle along his jawline pulsed. “Well can you?” he hissed.
“Give me two weeks,” I said. “And if you don’t think I can handle it, I’ll leave.”
“Four weeks,” he muttered and turned the music up, but I could still make out his words. “Don’t think I’m gonna take it easy on you.” He grabbed his drill, and climbed back up the ladder.
My shoulders relaxed. With his back to me, I caught my breath, relieved that in the heat of our exchange I’d come out victorious. I knew he was desperate for help, and that’s the only reason he gave in. But I’d show him. I’d be the best goddamn farmer’s assistant there was.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled over the music, “I’ll see you at nine tomorrow.”
“Six,” he yelled without turning.
Did people really wake up that early? My shifts at the diner were always at night, until the early hours of the morning. I’d fall into bed at dawn for a few hours’ sleep before waking later to help Mom. If there was time I’d steal an afternoon nap before my shift started again. The body clock was going to get a shock, that’s for sure.
I left quickly, shutting the door with a click, just in case he changed his mind.
CeeCee said Clay was a loner. She forgot to mention he had a chip on his shoulder so big its missing piece could sink the Titanic. I walked back to town, my footsteps lighter.
I’d done it.
Secured a job in a tiny town and that would take the pressure off for a while at least. I felt like dancing down the street, the weight of the world forgotten for one brief moment.
I had to find a store that sold clothes for farmers. What exactly did farmers wear? First I had to ring Mom and tell her everything.
***
“A Maple Syrup Farm?” Her voice was groggy, as though I’d just woken her. “I bet it’s tranquil too. I knew you’d do great, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom. How’s it going with Aunt Margot?” From the background noise, I could tell she was still in hospital. Had Aunt Margot been with Mom when I called earlier, and somehow forgotten to mention the fact Mom was still in hadn’t been taken home yet? I couldn’t ask, because I’d told Mom I wouldn’t call and bombard Aunt Margot with advice.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s rosy here. Never mind all that.”
“I can hear the machines beeping.”
She coughed, the racking echo making my heart hurt. Eventually she continued: “Tomorrow, I’ll leave. Just waiting for some more test results. Aunt Margot is flying in soon and will drive me home. You’re supposed to be forgetting about this place,” she chided. “Tell me all about the job.”
“I was going to go over the list—”
“She knows all about that. Don’t you worry.”
I debated whether to argue the point. Mom’s care plan was convoluted at the best of times, without an emergency cropping up.
“Which tests are you waiting on? Did they take more bloods?”
Offhandedly, she said, “Same ones, the results were held up.” It’d happened a handful of times before and always resulted in her staying a day or two longer. Being so far away, and not able to consult the doctor like usual had me on edge. Mom was the type of person to go with the flow, not make waves, but sometimes, especially when it came to hospitals, you had to be that pushy person, the one who demanded explanations, otherwise you’d sink into the background, faded, forgotten because they were so busy, so understaffed.
“Usually when you speak to someone on the phone, you actually speak,” she said. “I can hear those cogs in your brain ticking over.”
Her voice was bright, despite the coughing fit. Maybe I was reading too much into it because I wasn’t with her. “OK. OK.” I said with a small laugh.
“Well, talk, honey! What’s the job entail?”
I smiled, thinking of what she’d make of the farm. “We’ll be tapping the maples for syrup, and driving tractors.” What else had Clay said? “The place needs an overhaul, but it’s beautiful, in its own ruined way.”
“And that’s fate, taking you somewhere like that, and with the click of your fingers, you land yourself a job.”
“Mm,” I mumbled. “But what if I’m not cut out for that kind of thing?”
“How hard can it be? Wake up when the birds do and get to work. All that fresh air will be a balm for your soul. You’re a tree-hugging hippy, just like me. You just haven’t found the right trees, yet. Maybe this is your chance?”
Laughter barreled out of me. “Yeah, maybe all I need is good ol’ hug from a maple tree.”
She clucked her tongue. “Trees have feelings too, Lucy. I think you’re on a winner.”
I shook my head. This was her way, sensing an energy in things: trees, grass, flowers, and teaching