Reap (The Harvest Saga Book 1) (5 page)

Monday morning, Lulu shook me
awake. I was a mess. I was exhausted, but I’d always slept like the dead. On mornings that I was particularly difficult to wake, she even put a cold, wet towel on my face to rouse me. I hated that. So much. I dragged myself out of bed and wipe a cold rag over my face. It was different when I did it myself.

I pulled on my nearly worn-out jeans. A ragged hole revealed the skin my left kneecap and another, a portion of the skin on my right thigh. The cuffs were tattered and pieces of fabric and thread tickled the skin on the top of my feet and trailed behind my heels. I pulled on a hunter green V-neck tee, a pair of clean socks, and my dusty, trusty tennis shoes.

Running out of my room, I weaved my long wavy hair into a braid and tied it with a small red and white gingham fabric scrap. Lulu met me just before I reached the front door and finished tying it off for me. “Head to the main hall. You need to be back in the orchards, but Councilman Preston has to release you.”

I pulled back from her. “Why? I’m fine.”

“I know that, but it’s just how it is. You’re his charge and only he can release you to work the orchard.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“He’ll send you back. They need help. They’re so desperate they’ve requested reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?”

“From other villages. They’ve asked for help from those who aren’t preparing their own harvests right now, or whose harvests have already taken place. The able from at least three other villages should join us in the next day or so. The Greaters have approved of their assistance and are moving the workers by train.”

“Wow. I don’t remember that ever happening.”

She laughed. “That’s because it hasn’t. We’ve always been able to shoulder the load. But, the trees have produced more this year than they ever have before. There’s quite the bounty and more than we can handle without help. Else, the apples will spoil on the trees, or on the ground. The Greaters aren’t about to let that happen. You know how they feel about waste.”

Lulu’s eyes sparkled when she smiled. It was amazing how just looking in the eyes of someone you love could take you home. Made you feel comfort and love unimaginable anywhere else. I hugged her tight and kissed her temple before trudging to battle. I wasn’t sure why I felt like I was marching into one, but I did.

Cutting through the woods toward the center of town, and the main hall, I crossed paths with none other than Paige Winters and her best friend, Dawn. I nodded in an attempt to avoid speaking with them, but of course, Paige would have none of that. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Martyr.”

“Excuse me?” She wanted to rile me up.
Congratulations, Paige
. She’d just succeeded.

I whipped around. Her long pin-straight black hair shone in the early morning sun. Paige’s nose turned up on the end slightly, but she emphasized the feature by keeping her nose pointed to the sky. She was much like Mrs. Preston, always looking down on everyone else. Especially me, because of my proximity to her fiancé. She huffed and put one hand on her hip, rolling her eyes. I wanted to scratch them out. If only I didn’t bite my nails. Claws would come in handy in this kind of cat fight.

“You heard me. Miss Martyr. Had to step in and save the day.”

“I did no such thing. But, call me what you want. You wouldn’t have stepped up for that little girl.” She made no attempt to deny it.

“Nope.” She popped her ‘P.’ “There’s no way any man would want a woman with a mangled back. Especially Kyan. He wouldn’t want something tainted and ugly. Something scarred.”

I really should have bitten my tongue. I knew it, but I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next. “Well, when he rubbed his fingers across the parts that weren’t ripped open the other night, he certainly didn’t complain.”

She stiffened and nearly growled at me. “You’re lying. He would never lay a finger on a piece trash like you.”

I just smirked. Kyan was going to kill me. “Well, maybe you should just ask him about it then. Maybe he likes martyrs better than stuck-up bitches.” And, with that, I turned on my heel making my way toward the main hall once more. The shocked expression on her face was enough to put more than a little pep in my step.

Dawn’s dirty blonde hair whipped around as I passed them by, her mouth gaped open. Had no one ever stood up to them? Good grief. Paige Winters should marry Zander Preston. It would be a match made in wannabe Greater heaven.

∞

As was customary, I waited
on the porch of the main hall until beckoned by Mary, the woman who really ran the place. I followed her inside the old building. It was the only one in the village constructed mostly of stone, highlighted only with accents of wood.

All resident dwellings were entirely made of wood, our most abundant resource. Those closest to the density of the forest were often ravaged by woodpeckers and termites. A few were so thoroughly consumed, that only the remnants of their thickest structural pieces remained. Skeletal reminders of the harshness and determination of even the tiniest predators.

Mary limped ahead of me. Her left leg was her strongest, and she pushed off of it in order propel herself forward. Her right was no help at all, but seemed rather to serve as a crutch. She was broad in the hip, but had shrunken shorter and shorter over the past few years. At one point, her eyes had been level with mine, but now were several inches below. A high bun crowned her head, thin white hair stretched backwards toward the whirlpool of white. Deep lines sunk into her forehead and parenthesed her mouth.

Her eyes were green-gray and she smiled with them even more so than with her thin lips, which from which delicate lines radiated as well. I followed to the last door on the left. My fingertips grazed the cold, gritty stone wall beside me. She knocked.

“Yes?” A gruff voice called out.

She opened the door slightly and stuck her head in. “Councilman Preston, Miss Abigail Kelley is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

She swept her hand forward. My legs felt like the wall. Heavy stones. Hard to lift. I propelled myself forward, passing Mary and stepped into one of the largest open spaces I’ve ever seen. The walls were made of stacked stones, like the rest of the structure, but the ceiling was so tall, outlined with enormous beams of stained dark wood. Iron sconces were evenly spaced around the walls, a pristine, white candle in each, just begged to be lit.

Two windows were spaced perfectly apart on the wall to my left. Two more were behind Councilman Preston’s desk. With all the light behind him, his face remained in shadow. Sitting silently, his fingers tented together in front of him. I moved forward slowly, taking in the grandeur, before settling into one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk.

Even his desk was enormous and was stained the same dark color as the beams that loomed overhead. I swallowed nervously and clasped my hands together in my lap. Dust motes floated and flew whimsically in the early morning sunlight beaming its way into the room through the windows.

Mr. Preston cleared his throat. His once-blonde hair was peppered with gray and white and had begun thinning on top. “You wanted to see me, Abigail?”

“Yes, Sir.” I filled my voice with a confidence mocked by my quaking knees. “I’d like to return to the orchards for the harvest.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your back?”

“Mostly healed now, Sir.”

He shifted in his seat, intertwining his fingers. I couldn’t see his eyes because of the lighting, but could feel his appraisal. “Abby, I know you’re anxious to help with the harvest, but you must heal. If you aren’t healed properly, you could be a danger to those around you. If you were to falter, and others had to take care of you, it would take others away from their work. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s compromise. You may work for two hours in the orchards during the morning tomorrow, and then will report to my home to complete your chores for the remainder of the day. If you handle that well for a few days, we will increase your time in the orchards, and decrease your work as our servant. Is that acceptable to you?”

I beamed a smile. “Yes, Sir. Thank you. It’s more than fair.”

He sat back and his high cheekbones pulled up. I couldn’t tell with the lighting, but I thought he was smiling. “I would like to discuss another matter with you, Abigail.”

I sat back in the chair. “Okay.”

“My son has informed me of his intention to marry you. Are you aware of this?”

“He mentioned it one day, Sir. But, I wasn’t sure that he was serious. He and I have never...seen eye to eye.” I swallowed.

“Rest assured that his affections for you are both present and strong. I spoke with your Aunt about the pairing, but she was reluctant to agree. It seems that she is aware that the two of you have not, as you put it, ‘seen eye to eye,’ and so she will not approve of the match.”

I was not really sure how to respond. I wished that I could be honest and tell him that I hated his son and that Zander would be the last man on this Earth I could be persuaded to marry. I wanted to squeeze Aunt Lulu for having declined his offer, for standing up to the Preston’s when anyone else in this village would have cowered and bowed to their request.

“Abigail, I intend to speak with Lulu again. Zander was devastated with the news that she had denied him your hand. What say you on the matter?”

His eyes, though shaded bore into me. “Would you appreciate an honest answer, Sir?”

“Yes.”

“I do not wish to marry Zander.”

“I see.” He inhaled deeply and then sighed. “Is it the boy you’re always with? Kyan?”

“No. Kyan is to marry Paige Winters at the harvest festival.”

“Do you love Kyan, his betrothal aside?”

I shook my head. “No. He’s my best friend. I don’t see him in a romantic way.”

“Then my son is the problem?”

“I don’t think we would be a good match. I don’t love him.”

Hearty laughter booms out from him. “Love? Oh, child. If only we were able to marry for love. We marry to procreate and produce more responsible citizens. To continue our traditions and values, but not for love.” His laughter trailed off. “Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes paired couples do find that after a time, love develops, along with respect. But, it’s rare. I wish it were possible for you to find love, but sometimes, you have to think with your head instead of your heart, dear.”

I nodded, feeling like a scolded child. Unfortunately, I knew he was right.

“I will try once again to persuade her. No doubt my effort will be in vain. It seems your Aunt values your opinion, Abigail. You’re lucky. Most young women aren’t so fortunate. Most aren’t even consulted on their matches, but are simply told who they will marry and when. But, I promised my son I would try again. I don’t break my promises, Miss Kelley.” He stood and extended his hand and I did the same. His hand was frigid, his handshake like steel.

I nodded and stood to leave.

∞

The next morning, Lulu woke
me before dawn. I tugged on a green and white plaid shirt, jeans and my worn, brown leather boots. My tennis shoes were still drying by the fire after I’d washed them the evening before. Lulu plaited my hair in an intricate braid, pulling it up and away from my face. She quickly pinned it into place and placed my burlap lunch sack in my hand. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I was off to the orchard—for a couple of hours, at least.

The morning air was chilly and the grass blades damp with dew. Patches of spider webs dotted the tall grass. The sun had not risen above the horizon yet, but the sky was beginning to turn from deep sapphire. It faded toward the east to a lighter blue, smeared with royal purples, and brilliantly lit oranges and gold, as if touched with the strokes of a painter’s delicate hand.

I turned down the pathway toward the orchards, following the white wooden plank fence that lined the great fields of fruit-bearing trees. I could smell the ripe apples, the supple earth. The leaves even had a distinct scent. Crisp, like the fruit they bore. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Sweet, succulent fruit, freshly cut grass, wood and the lingering acrid smell of smoke permeated the air. I was home—as free as I ever had been.