Bitter Harvest (7 page)

After a long moment Meg laughed. “You know what? I don’t think we do. Look, if there’s anything you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen, but I suppose I have no right to pry into your personal life.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Meg. But I just don’t think this is the time to get into it. All right?”

When will the right time be?
she wondered. At least he’d left the door open a crack.

The fire was mesmerizing, and they sat for a time in silence. Meg was almost startled when Seth began to speak again.

“You asked about my father,” he began tentatively, talking more to the dark than to her.

“Yes,” she said, fearful of discouraging him. She waited.

“He died when I was in college. I was putting myself through Amherst with a combination of scholarships, loans, and whatever work I could scrounge, and Mom wanted me to finish. But I knew there wasn’t going to be enough money for Stephen and Rachel to go. So when Dad died, I finished my last year, then I came back to Granford and picked up where he had left off with the business. It wasn’t that I’d always hoped to be a plumber, but the family needed the money, and it’s steady work. I’d worked with him on and off, in high school and summers, so I knew what I was doing, although I had to get licensed. A couple of friends helped with the hands-on stuff in the beginning, and Mom kept the financial side going until I could come back.”

“How did he die?”

“Heart attack. He was just past fifty, but he’d been a smoker and a drinker most of his life, and he’d ignored his high blood pressure for years, no matter how much Mom pushed him about it. Which wasn’t much—she knew he wouldn’t listen, and she wanted to keep the peace.”

He stopped, and the seconds spun out until Meg wondered if that was all he was going to say. Then he began again. “Nancy and I got married right after graduation. She really wanted to believe that running the plumbing side of things was only temporary—that when Stephen and Rachel were set, I’d close the business down and go back to graduate school.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. She couldn’t see that I wasn’t cut out to be an academic, and I couldn’t convince myself to try, just to please her. Maybe I wasn’t any better at plumbing, but it paid the bills. It was honest work, and I like working with my hands. With people.”

“I think your father would be proud of you.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

Meg was surprised at the unexpected bitterness in Seth’s voice. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he was a bully, and he figured the world owed him something. He thought he wanted kids, because that’s what men were supposed to do, and then when he had them he said we were always in the way. He hated me when I stood up to him, but I was only trying to protect the younger kids.”

“Was he abusive?”

“No—at least, not physically. I think Mom would have called the cops on him if he’d ever hit her—and he knew it—even though that’s hard to do in a small town. But it was easier for her to just go along than to try to argue. That was another way she looked out for his blood pressure. When he worked up a real head of steam, didn’t matter over what, he’d turn red and start yelling, and she’d calm him down.”

Meg thought about her own family and her upbringing, so restrained and proper—and emotionally distant. She could count on the fingers of one hand the times either of her parents had actually raised a voice in anger. “But you did turn out well.”

“Did I? I spend a lot of time and energy trying to fix other people’s problems. Did you know that’s true of a lot of eldest children? We’re the fixers. We’re always trying to smooth things over. But you’re right—I don’t have a whole lot to show for it, personally. Sorry, Meg, but you did ask.”

It wasn’t far off what Meg had thought: Seth’s outgoing, cheerful exterior hid a lot of inner doubt. “You’ve got friends. You’ve got the respect of the community. You’ve got a profession you enjoy.”
And you’ve got a sister who’s made a good life for herself, and a brother who hasn’t.

“I guess. What you said, about not being able to tell whether I was helping you just because I help everybody? That works both ways. I couldn’t tell if you cared about me, or whether you were clinging to me because I was there and you desperately needed a lifeline at the time.”

“I wasn’t sure myself, in the beginning. Honestly, probably some of each. I’m grateful that you were there. But I’m not clinging now. It’s been a tough year, but I’ve survived. I’m proud of myself for sticking it out. I’m proud of myself for taking on new things and making them work. I couldn’t have done it without you, Seth, but now that I’ve proven to myself that I can make it on my own, I get to choose whether I
want
to do it alone.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

He didn’t respond, but in the wavering light of the fire Meg saw him smile. He stood up and held out a hand, then pulled her out of her chair. “We should try to get some sleep,” he said. “Can you get comfortable in front of the fire?”

“Sure, I guess. I’ll sort out the blankets and stuff.”

While Seth stoked the fire one last time, Meg rearranged the blankets and pillows, building almost a wall to block the cold air behind them. She nestled under a quilt, and Seth slipped in behind her and pulled the quilt over them both.

“Conserving body heat, are we?” she joked.

He kissed the back of her neck. “More than that, Meg.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Seth.”

“So am I.”

The night passed slowly for Meg, although she was glad for Seth’s warm presence. Despite all the padding, the floor was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. The coals popped and snapped periodically, startling her, and the wind howled around the corners of the house. When gray light slowly filled the room, Meg took stock. Seth was still asleep, his body curved around hers. Lolly had joined them sometime during the night and was curled against her belly, on the side closest to the fire, and Max lay on the other side of Seth. When Meg slid her arm cautiously out from under her layers of blankets to look at her watch, she was surprised to find that it was after eight o’clock. If her cold nose was any indication, it was freezing in the room, and the fire was out. She lay still, enjoying the lingering warmth under the blankets, and listened. No sound of vehicles on the street. No sound of anything, actually, except the wind and the scratch of snow against the windowpanes. So the forecasters had been right: it was still snowing. How long would it continue?

She could feel the shift in his body as Seth woke up. “Hey,” he said, into her neck. “You get any sleep?”

“Enough, I guess. It sounds like it’s still snowing. Do we have to move?”

“Not on my account.” But at the sound of his master’s voice, Max had gotten up and was now circling them. Seth sighed. “I guess he needs to go out.”

He disentangled himself from the covers and stood up, pulling his clothes into place. Meg shivered in the cold draft his departure had generated, and decided she might as well get up, too. As she did, she realized why the room was so dark: there was snow piled up against the windows along one side. She crossed the room and said, “Seth, look at this!”

He joined her by the window. “Wow. I can’t remember that I’ve seen this much snow more than once or twice in my life. And it’s still coming down. We should check the news and see what they’re saying now. Come on, Max.”

He headed for the kitchen, Max at his heels. Meg followed, and Lolly, not wanting to be abandoned, scampered in front of her.

In the kitchen Seth pushed the switch on the small television. Nothing happened. He turned it off and on again, with no results. Then he turned toward Meg, looking troubled. “The power’s out.”

“Oh? Oh.” Meg’s slow brain kicked into gear. No power meant . . . no light. No stove. No hot water. “What are we supposed to do?”

Seth’s mouth twitched in a half grin. “I guess what people used to do when the house was new. We’ve still got firewood. You have any cast iron cookware?”

“A couple of skillets, and I think some former tenant left a Dutch oven thing—I put it on a shelf out in the shed because I don’t use it.”

“Then we can cook. In case you’re worried, you can still flush—that doesn’t take electricity. The cell phones may work, but the batteries won’t last long. Let me take care of Max, and I’ll bring in some more wood so I can get the fire going again. And you can whip up a nice, hearty one-skillet breakfast for us—I don’t want to waste any more wood than necessary.”

“Yes, sir! I’m on it, sir!”

Seth pulled open the back door, with Max bouncing at his feet, but then had to wrestle the outer storm door against the piled snow. In the time it took to clear enough space for him to get out, a lot of cold air rushed in, and Meg shivered. Seth was right: they had the essentials, but she had better organize some cooking implements. She wasn’t too sure how to handle cooking in a fireplace. She wondered if coffee was out of the question, and then realized that she had only whole beans, and the grinder wasn’t going to be much use. Too bad she had never acquired one of those kitschy hand-cranked grinders that were usually sold as decoration. Could she just whack the beans with a hammer? It looked as though she was going to have to settle for tea, if she could find something to boil water in. Which she couldn’t do until Seth brought in more wood and started a fire. How the heck had people managed in the old days?

Meg started pulling open more cabinets—and thinking. Last night had been . . . unexpected. Put two rather conflicted people in forced seclusion in a dark room with a fire, and look what happened. What Seth had said had confirmed some things she had thought or sensed—mainly that he was trying to be everything to everybody because of his own family’s history. Was that a bad thing? He was a good person, and he did make a difference in a lot of people’s lives. Could he dial that back and pay a bit more attention to his own wants? Could she, should she ask that of him? Trying to change people never worked, and anyway, she was still working on keeping her head on straight. As she had told him, she’d had a difficult year, with a lot of changes, and she hadn’t processed them all yet. And she couldn’t draw any conclusions until she knew if her business was turning a profit.

What if it wasn’t? Would she cut her losses and quit? Leave Granford? Leave Seth? She’d pretty much exhausted her capital, between the barn improvements, buying a tractor, upgrading some other much-needed equipment, and getting necessary supplies, so if it turned out that the orchard couldn’t support her, she’d have to find some other income. Which wouldn’t be easy, given the local economy. That was one problem she didn’t think Seth could fix. She wondered briefly if he was helping to support his mother. He certainly didn’t live like he had a lot of money. Not that money or possessions seemed to matter to him.

Once she’d located her skillets, and a pot that would withstand a fire, Meg had little left to do. She pulled out her cell phone and turned it on, and was surprised to get a signal. She hit the speed dial number for Bree’s cell.

Bree answered after the fourth ring. “Wha?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Meg? Sort of. You okay there?”

“Well, the furnace quit and the power’s out, but other than that, I think so. How about you?”

“’Bout the same—no power, and the furnace here has an electronic ignition so it’s not working either. This is a bad one.”

“You heard anything about when it’s going to stop?”

“Not since last night. Don’t expect to see me anytime soon.”

“That’s fine. I’ll manage. Seth’s here.”

“Oho!” Bree chortled.

“Whatever. Enjoy your time with Michael, and I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.”

Seth still wasn’t back, so Meg decided to check the rest of the house and make sure there were no problems. She put Lolly’s food on the counter, then headed for the hallway. When she pulled open the front door, she found the outer storm door blocked by drifted snow as well. Peering out, she realized she couldn’t even tell where the road began : the snow rolled on unbroken as far as she could see. She slammed the door shut quickly, and poked her head into the room across the hall. More or less the same: snow piled at least up to the windowsills outside. Upstairs she used the bathroom, briefly splashing very cold water on her face, then checked out the other rooms. All were equally cold, colder now than the ground floor rooms. She shut the doors behind her again, and went back downstairs in time to meet Seth coming into the kitchen with an armload of wood.

“Bacon and eggs work for you? We can toast bread or bagels or whatever on forks, right?” she asked. “Oh, and I talked to Bree. It sounds like it’s as bad in Amherst as it is here.”

“I’m not surprised. I’ll get the fire going.”

An hour later they were swabbing their empty plates with toast that was only slightly burnt. “What now?” Meg asked. “Do we have to do the dishes? I mean, there’s no hot water.”