The Long Road Home (24 page)

BACK HOME, NORA did give up hope. When he returned three days later, C.W. noticed the change right away. A pall was cast over the farm. Though the work continued, as it always must on a farm, the cheerful spirit they had enjoyed since Nora’s arrival had slipped away. Nora appeared, precisely on time, to perform her chores. But she barely said hello and her pace struck him as slower than sap in January. She didn’t seem to care anymore. Not even Willow got much more than a pat.

Things were just as sullen up at the big house. Frank and Junior exchanged questioning glances his way when Nora walked silently past them and into her room. Seth thought she looked older, the boys thought she looked tired, but they all agreed she didn’t look the same. As they hammered in nails and measured drywall, Frank and Junior cast mournful gazes upstairs at Nora’s closed door and worked without the usual jokes and banter. The aroma of coffee grew acrid as the day wore on, and the boys’ stomachs grumbled for a slice of Nora’s
bread. Their nails and wood chips fell unnoticed. At the end of the day, clutter loomed in large piles across the floor.

As the day passed, C.W. made increasingly frequent stops at the house. Always to pick up this or drop off that, always glancing up toward the top floor. Seth held his tongue, biding his time, but C.W. noticed the scowl that deepened on the old man’s brow at each passing.

“What’d you say to her, C.W.?” Frank finally blurted, his eyes skewered in accusation. Junior’s head was bobbing in agreement, his hammer swinging in his hand. It was clear whose side they were on now.

Seth approached with a slow gait, rocking from side to side. When he stopped at C.W.’s side, he swept his gaze around the room, grabbed his belt, and adjusted his pants, a clear signal that he was going to talk turkey.

“What do you know about what’s going on up here?”

“It’s not for me to explain. She’s just not herself.”

The old man snapped his suspenders. “Not herself? Shoot. More like she done lost herself and she don’t even miss it.”

C.W. frowned and looked away.

Seth let a few minutes pass before speaking again. The younger men rocked on their heels and shifted their weight, waiting with respect for Seth to begin.

“You remember that ewe that got sick last July?” he finally asked.

C.W. nodded. “You mean the one that filled up with gas?”

“That’ll be the one. Ate too much of the weed. Just swelled up like a balloon. Seemed ’bout ready to burst too. But she didn’t. She dropped to her knees. And you know what happens when a ewe drops to her knees, don’t you, boy?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” he replied. “She’ll die.”

Seth nodded. “We didn’t let that happen, did we? We
propped that ewe up and eventually she got better. Yes, she did.”

C.W. nodded in agreement.

“When a sheep drops to its knees, it just quits the fight to live. If’n you leave it down in the fields, it’s gonna die out there sure as the sun sets. But if you can get it back up on its legs, chances are it’ll pull through.

“That’s just the way sheep are, son. People too. You leave one out in the fields, alone, without the will to live and she’ll die too. Maybe not so we can all see it and mourn it, but deep inside she’ll wither up and the life just gets snuffed out.” He blew a puff of air for effect. “Nope. Gotta find a way to prop her up.”

Their eyes met in understanding. C.W.’s lips tightened and the muscle in his jaw began to work. By the spark in Charley’s eyes, Seth knew he had lit a fire.

“Listen, Seth, keep an eye on things for me, will you? There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Yeh-up,” replied Seth, grabbing hold of the tools and swallowing back a smile. Yeh-up, he thought to himself as he watched C.W. sprint up the stairs. He fairly lit a bonfire to that boy’s butt.

C.W. took the stairs two at a time and pounded three times on Nora’s bedroom door. “Nora MacKenzie. Come out here. I need to talk to you.”

“Go away,” she called back.

He turned to see Frank and Junior jab each other in the ribs. Seth twisted his lips and snapped his cap on his head.

C.W. pounded again on the door. “Open up, or I’m coming in. We can talk in there as well as anywhere.”

From behind the door he heard the padding of feet. In a moment, the door swung open just wide enough for C.W. to catch a glimpse of Nora. She looked awful. Her eyes were
puffy and her hair, which had lost its golden lustre, hung limp and in disarray on her shoulders. He had always wanted to see it down, but definitely not like this. Seeing her so apathetic, his demeanor changed from gruff to gentle.

“Come on, Nora. Grab your coat. Let’s go for a walk.”

“I don’t want to. I’m busy packing.”

“Come on,” he persisted. “It’ll do you good.” He coaxed her out of her room, into her jacket, and out the door toward the east meadow.

The October day was masquerading as summer; the sun shone in a crystalline sky and the air was warm and moist. C.W. thanked Nature for her help. Who could be depressed on such a beautiful day? He said as much to Nora, and though she nodded in agreement, he wasn’t sure she felt it. Still, he persevered. He took her on a long walk down the road to the eastern border of the property.

“C.W., where are we going? Let’s turn back. I’m really not in the mood,” she protested.

He offered her only a squeeze of the hand and a wink for an answer.

Up the steep mountainside they climbed, slowing just to remove their jackets on this Indian summer day. After an arduous climb, they reached a ledge that looked out at a view that lured the eye. Above them stretched an expanse of brilliant blue sky. At their feet, acres and acres of fields spread out, golden where shorn, deep brown, magenta, and burnt orange where wild. How could Nora’s sagging spirit not be revived?

C.W. wrapped an arm across her shoulder and had her follow his pointed finger to where natural spring water came rushing down the mountain. He traced its gurgling path into a recessed field where it sat, marshy and dark.

“There,” he said grandly, “is where you can build not one
but two ponds—maybe even three, one atop the other, like steps. And in them you can raise trout, bass, even crayfish for harvest and sale. I’m convinced there is a market for it, and it can be profitable.”

Nora looked at him as though he had gone mad. “Ponds? Marketing fish? What are you talking about?”

“Making this place work, Nora. We can do it.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. It was the first emotion he had seen so far.

“Stop it!” she cried. “I don’t want to hear it. No more plans, no more dreams. Not for this farm. Not for me.”

He stood back. He hadn’t expected her to be so defiant.

“So, you’re giving up?”

She threw up her hands. “No, I am not giving up. I never had anything to give up. They’ll take this place anyway.”

“We don’t know that yet. Have faith that the auction will pull through. To give up on the farm now will ensure that even if the bank doesn’t take it, you’ll lose it anyway.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“Is that so?” he replied, grabbing her elbows and holding them tight before him. He wanted both to shake her and to hold her. “I don’t believe you.”

Her shoulders slumped as she stared back at him. She wanted to feel the same enthusiasm, to rally, but she just couldn’t. She felt drained.

“I believed it could be done…once,” she replied.

Her voice was as soft as the breeze. He saw her head-bent profile, her lashes blinking quickly, and her lips quivering the way they always did when she tried to prevent tears. He hoped she didn’t see his shudder or the swelling of his chest.

“Diversify,” he said.

“What?”

“We have to diversify. Then we can minimize our risks and
increase the farm’s output at little or no extra cost.” He was gesturing with his hands, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. “Look again, Nora. See all the possibilities here. We’ve been talking about this—let’s do it! Your idea of expanding the sugaring business is a good one. And look at all this lumber! Then there’s fish farming, specialized crops—”

“Where’s all the financing for these operations coming from?”

He heard the doubt in her voice and persevered. “It won’t take a lot and with robbing Peter to pay Paul, as you said, I think we can swing it. The secret’s in the management. Be sides, I’ll take a cut in pay.” He held up his hand against her objections. “Don’t worry, I’m no martyr. I’ll buy into the business. It’s a great opportunity for me, and who knows, maybe Frank and Junior will follow suit.”

Nora listened and he saw a flicker in her eyes.

“And we should plan an intensive management for the sheep,” he continued in a rush. “Their wool, freezer lambs, replacement lambs, and such. We’d have to bring up the flock number. By half at least.”

“Possible. Yes.” Her foot was tapping. “But cost control is the first factor. We’ll have to pay strict attention to expenses like fuel, repairs, utilities. And I’ll have to let people go. The gravy train is gone. No more submitting a bill and expecting a check to be written.”

“You bet.”

“You know, I have one idea that really appeals to me.”

“What is it?” he asked, thrilled to catch her interest.

“Well,” she began slowly. “I could spin wool. Make better use of our own wool to increase the value of the lamb. May and I have talked about it. I know it’s not much, but…”

He stood with arms akimbo, a grin stretched from ear to ear. “It’s a wonderful idea. Let’s do it.”

Her eyes opened wide and the hope he read in them was humbling.

“I want this farm to succeed,” she said, hope daring to enter her voice again. “I want, very much, to make it my home. We will make it. Won’t we?”

His face grew solemn. “You will. You will succeed at anything you work at. I truly believe that.” He saw her frown.

“What’s the matter?”

“You won’t be here?”

He walked the few paces to her and cupped his palm along her chin. The wind gusted, stirring the goldenrod clusters gone to seed, blowing the white puffs of exploded milkweed pods, and tossing curled, brown maple leaves in a swirl around them.

“I will be here. If you want me to be.”

“The other day you said you were leaving.” Her voice was a whisper. “Now you want to stay. Now you have wild and wonderful plans and really seem to care whether this place makes it or not. Why?”

He stared into the depths of her green pools until he felt he would drown in them. “Nora.” He sighed, standing before her. He worked his mouth but the words didn’t come.

“Why?” she repeated, mouth open, eyes wide. He could see the pearly ridge of her teeth, and between them the pink moist mound of her tongue.

The exhilaration of the afternoon spearheaded the assault on his resolve. Perched high on the bluff, the air was charged. It gusted around them, snatching Nora’s hair from its hold and sending it whipping freely in the wind. C.W. was undone.

He stepped closer, gripping her slight shoulders, and held her close.

“God help me,” he said, pressing his lips against her head. C.W. lifted her face and held it between his palms. Her gaze was trusting, her face pale. “God help us both.”

In one swoop, his mouth sealed hers in dominant possession.

She felt his wave of passion sweep her up like a small piece of driftwood, tossing her senses in a turbulent swirl that left her dizzy. She could drown in his kisses and drew back, gasping for breath. Her hands rested upon his cheeks, stalling his advance with her fragile resistance. Every fiber in her body desired him. That he wanted her was clear.

Yet where did this tide come from? That her passion could ignite so quickly, so unexpectedly, frightened her. Of what she wasn’t sure. Rejection? Regret? Deep down, she knew she hadn’t resolved her greatest doubt: Had Mike reason to turn away? Was something wrong with her?

These fears and questions swirled in her brain so fast they left her trembling. She could only back away. She tried, yet his arms held her close.

As if he heard the questions, C.W. quieted his approach. Taking her hands from his cheeks, he kissed the tip of each finger while his eyes smiled on. She stilled, her breath in her throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he slid her arms around his neck, and his own down her arms to wrap around her back.

Hearing the words, she felt beautiful.

“I want you,” he crooned as his lips met her ear. She felt his tongue trace the delicate folds of her inner ear and his hot breath seemed to blow her fears from her brain.

Hearing the words, she felt desirable.

“God, I need you,” he murmured as his lips met hers once
again. Their trembling gave credence to his words, humbling her with their honesty.

Hearing his plaintive cries, her heart denied her brain further resistance. With a surge of tenderness she relinquished. Shyly, she echoed his declarations of desire, her whispers mingling with sighs.

Hearing her words, he buried his head in her golden hair. His emotion brought him to the edge of pain. In a desperate rush he wrapped her in a grip so tight the air whooshed from her lips.

“I need you, Nora,” he repeated. “I want you now…here.”

His desperation excited her. His hands, shaking yet hard, raked her back, her buttocks, then traveled up her spine again.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered.

He swept to her mouth again, moving his hand to crush her hard against him.

“C.W.,” she gasped as her head fell back and her arms wrapped tight around his chest. He moaned her name in reply.

The sound of their names on each other’s lips struck like a bolt of lightning, and like two dry tinders, they dropped to their knees in the meadow. The lovers stretched out upon the fields. His hands caressed her as they pushed her back until, at last, he covered her body with his own. Their clothing slipped away. She shivered as the colors of dusk deepened around them. His body became a shadow: dark, bold, full of mystery. Even in the dim light she could see the turbulent color of his eyes, more dusky a blue than the twilight. She read in them an understanding of what was to come.

Lips, tongues, bodies clung and pressed into one form. Their blood raced in a single vein. Their breaths mingled in a single
cavity. Again the tempo increased. The coarse grass scratched, the sweat trickled between them, and their pants sounded in the night like wild animals. When at last she cried out his name, he shuddered, knowing she was his.