Bitter Harvest (36 page)

Meg complied.

She had to admit it was lovely, walking across the uneven fields that lay behind her house, toward the tree line. The sky was blue, the snow was still clean and fluffy, and they were going to cut down a Christmas tree from her own property. She couldn’t have imagined any of this a year earlier.

“I did some more research, after you left yesterday,” Meg said.

“Oh?”

“About Batten Disease. Like Jenn said, there are studies going on, and even if they don’t promise a cure, they may extend life, or at least improve the quality of life.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“Maybe. John said his insurance wouldn’t cover the experimental drug because it hasn’t been approved. But I had an idea.”

They’d reached the trees, and Seth was scanning for a likely tree for cutting. “And?”

“I want to give John and Jenn the sampler. It’s worth a good deal of money, according to the Sturbridge expert, and it
is
Jenn’s family, after all. Maybe it won’t save Eli, but it could make his life easier. It’s a shame to lose a part of the town’s history, but I think it’s the right thing to do. The Taylors need it a lot more than I do.”

Seth stopped, and Meg stopped, too, looking up at him, their breath fogging the air between them.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea. So, any decisions?”

“About what? The next apple season? Us?”

“Both. Either.”

“I’m staying, Seth.”

Meg’s last coherent thought was,
Have I ever been kissed in a snowy wood?

This book was inspired by two unrelated and widely separated events.

Years ago, when I was a professional genealogist, I was approached by J. Michael Flanigan, one of the producers of the
Antiques Roadshow
, to do some research on a sampler that he had acquired through the show. The story was that someone who had bought an old house in Cleveland discovered what he thought was a dirty rag in the back of a closet. It turned out to be a piece of needlework, so the owner decided to bring it to the
Roadshow
, and learned that it was an early nineteenth-century sampler made in Pennsylvania. I remembered the segment, and I was thrilled to be able to investigate the sampler’s history. (If you’re interested, you can see the segment at
www.­pbs.­org/­wgbh/­roadshow/­archive/­199907A26
.)

The other event is sadder but no less important to the story. More recently I was asked to give a talk to a chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution about the Orchard series and the genealogy behind it. Afterward I met a young woman who had brought her two-year-old daughter. She said something that made a profound impact on me: her child had Batten Disease, which is both hereditary and incurable. Yet at that time, the child looked completely healthy. I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of watching a child deteriorate in a few short years, but I could see that it might lead parents to act in desperate ways. Since the disease is passed down through families, and since my fictional Granford has been home to the same families for centuries, it was easy to envision such an unhappy genetic heritage there.

For the sampler I created for this book, I borrowed elements from a wide range of existing pieces (with a few personal additions), but all the elements are appropriate to needlework of the time period and the region. Thanks to Ruth Van Tassel of Van Tassel-Baumann American Antiques in Malvern, Pennsylvania (who restored the
Roadshow
sampler), for her insights and suggestions regarding early needlework. In addition, I was privileged to visit the exhibit of Massachusetts samplers on display at Old Sturbridge Village, which enabled me to examine examples of skilled needlework up close—and the talents of some of the young makers are truly impressive. Betty Ring’s well-known book
Girlhood Embroidery
was an invaluable resource.

Finally, as usual I’ve borrowed a lot of my own family history for this book, because it showed me so well how people in the eighteenth century moved around, and how hard it is to find records that show the reasons why.

Thanks, as always, to my indefatigable agent, Jessica Faust of BookEnds, and my extraordinary editor, Shannon Jamieson Vazquez at Berkley Prime Crime. Thanks also to Sisters in Crime and the ever-helpful Guppies—including Tracy Hayes who suggested the title.

Wash the beans and put them in a large soup kettle. Cover with cold water, bring to a boil, and remove from heat. Let stand 1 hour.

Drain the beans. Add the water and the beef bones. Bring to a boil and simmer, uncovered, for 1½ hours.

Sauté the bacon until golden. Drain off the fat. Add the oil to the pan, then the onions and garlic, and cook over medium heat for 5 minutes.

Stir in the carrots, potatoes, peas, and zucchini and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Remove the beef bones from the beans. Add fried vegetables, tomatoes, cabbage, and seasonings. Simmer, uncovered, for 1 hour.

Add the rice and continue cooking for 30 minutes.

Cream together the butter, cheese, and parsley. Add to the hot soup and stir until dissolved.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9 x 9 metal pan.

Melt the butter and let it cool. Add the sugar and the egg and beat well.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, and spices.

Combine the molasses, honey, and hot water.

Alternate adding the dry and liquid ingredients to the butter mixture and mix until blended.

Bake about 1 hour, or until the edges of the cake pull away slightly from the pan.

May be eaten plain or with ice cream or whipped cream.

Discard the stems, seeds, and ribs from the two chiles and chop coarsely (you may want to use latex gloves for this, if you have them).

In a food processor, blend the chiles with all the remaining ingredients except the chicken until a paste forms. Make slits in the chicken pieces, then rub the paste all over the pieces. Cover and chill at least two hours (overnight if possible).

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Place the chicken pieces skin side up on a foil-lined pan or rimmed baking sheet and cook about 45 minutes (until the juices run clear).

 

ONE BAD APPLE
ROTTEN TO THE CORE
RED DELICIOUS DEATH
A KILLER CROP
BITTER HARVEST