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Janice smiled. “And you couldn’t possibly complain from a distance.”
“Exactly.”
They sounded like friends now. Kate noticed it. Eileen did too, perhaps, because her expression softened before she turned toward the work.
“So where do you need me?”
Janice handed her a pair of spare gloves. “With me. Unless you’re going to tell me I’m doing all of this wrong.”
“I’ll wait at least ten minutes.”
“That’s generous.”
They moved off together.
Kate watched them for a moment. Eileen had sold Bramblewood because she could no longer carry the whole burden of an orchard by herself. Yet here she was, having delayed her journey home because there was a harvest and weather coming. She had not been asked. She had chosen to stay. Kate understood that. Would she find it any easier to leave when her own day came? She wiped her hands on her jeans and went back to the bins.
By lunchtime, the easy rhythm of the morning had become faster. Nobody was panicking. Nobody needed to. But the wind was stronger than it had been when they started, moving steadily through the branches and lifting loose leaves from the grass. Wes had brought another section forward after checking the fruit, and Alan’s trailer barely seemed to stop before being sent back out again.
Food arrived from the Community Kitchen shortly after noon. Nothing organized. Not yet. Someone had heard that Wes’s crew was working through the usual break and sent over coffee, sandwiches and a large container of soup. Nobody made much fuss about it. The food was put on a folding table beside the packing barn, and people came and went as they had time.
Kate found Alan there eventually, eating a sandwich while standing beside the tractor. “You look happy,” she said.
“I am.”
“Even though these aren’t your apples?”
Alan glanced toward the rows. “They’re still apples.”
Kate smiled.
He took another bite before looking across the boundary toward Bramblewood. “And mine are close.”
“You heard Wes.”
“I heard him. I’m trying not to go over there every twenty minutes and check.”
“That must be difficult for you.”
“It is.”
This time Kate laughed and put an arm briefly around his waist. Alan kissed the top of her head.
“I know I’ve been impatient,” he said. “I just want to get started properly. We bought the place months ago, but I think part of me has been waiting for harvest before it feels completely real.”
Kate looked up at him. “That makes sense.”
“I know there’ll be years when I wish harvest would stay away another week.”
“Probably.”
“But not this one.”
She leaned against him for another moment. “No. Not this one.”
Alan squeezed her shoulder before letting her go. He stood beside his tractor, tired and pleased and younger than she had seen him in years, his eyes on the orchard he had chosen for the next part of his life. Kate wanted to remember him like that.
Wes approached while Alan was finishing his sandwich. “You ready to go look?”
