Rebecca Raisin - Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm

A rivulet of sweat ran down his forehead. “Your threats usually work with other people?”

“Yes.” Well technically no. I was never in the position to threaten anyone, always relying on the mercy of managers, or landlords. I wasn’t desperate enough to let anyone hold anything over me, though. My pride wouldn’t allow that.

“Look, I don’t know who you are…”

“I’m Lucy,” I said levelly. If I didn’t find work, I wouldn’t have much more than the bus fare home. The universe wouldn’t provide, and I’d scurry back, tail between my legs, having failed and broken my promise. That would upset Mom. She’d think I did it on purpose because I wanted to be with her. “So what do you say?” I flashed him a smile, hoping it would lighten the tension that hung between us like fog.

“I need someone who can haul logs, and drive a tractor, help tap the maples. Somehow I can’t see you doing that, in your finery.” He flicked a hand toward me. Why the heck didn’t I change clothes? And finery? He was only wearing a pair of jeans when I walked in, in the middle of winter!

“I have other clothes, obviously.”

“Goodbye, Lucy.” He went back to the stereo and turned the music up to an ear-piercing level.

I wanted to shriek at him. Just once, I’d love for one person to give me a break, a chance. Instead, I stomped to the stereo and switched it off.

He spun to me, his eyes blazing. “What’s your problem?” He pressed his lips together.

How dare he! I pushed myself up close and poked a finger into his chest. “ You’re my problem. Is this because I’m a girl? What, you don’t think women can work as hard as men?” If there was one thing I’d learned from my mom it was that I could do anything I set my mind to, and I wouldn’t allow a man to tell me otherwise.

The muscle along his jawline pulsed. “Well can you?” he hissed.

“Give me two weeks,” I said. “And if you don’t think I can handle it, I’ll leave.”

“Four weeks,” he muttered and turned the music up, but I could still make out his words. “Don’t think I’m gonna take it easy on you.” He grabbed his drill, and climbed back up the ladder.

My shoulders relaxed. With his back to me, I caught my breath, relieved that in the heat of our exchange I’d come out victorious. I knew he was desperate for help, and that’s the only reason he gave in. But I’d show him. I’d be the best goddamn farmer’s assistant there was.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled over the music, “I’ll see you at nine tomorrow.”

“Six,” he yelled without turning.

Did people really wake up that early? My shifts at the diner were always at night, until the early hours of the morning. I’d fall into bed at dawn for a few hours’ sleep before waking later to help Mom. If there was time I’d steal an afternoon nap before my shift started again. The body clock was going to get a shock, that’s for sure.

I left quickly, shutting the door with a click, just in case he changed his mind.

CeeCee said Clay was a loner. She forgot to mention he had a chip on his shoulder so big its missing piece could sink the Titanic . I walked back to town, my footsteps lighter.

I’d done it.

Secured a job in a tiny town and that would take the pressure off for a while at least. I felt like dancing down the street, the weight of the world forgotten for one brief moment.

I had to find a store that sold clothes for farmers. What exactly did farmers wear? First I had to ring Mom and tell her everything.

***

“A Maple Syrup Farm?” Her voice was groggy, as though I’d just woken her. “I bet it’s tranquil too. I knew you’d do great, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom. How’s it going with Aunt Margot?” From the background noise, I could tell she was still in hospital. Had Aunt Margot been with Mom when I called earlier, and somehow forgotten to mention the fact Mom was still in hadn’t been taken home yet? I couldn’t ask, because I’d told Mom I wouldn’t call and bombard Aunt Margot with advice.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s rosy here. Never mind all that.”

“I can hear the machines beeping.”

She coughed, the racking echo making my heart hurt. Eventually she continued: “Tomorrow, I’ll leave. Just waiting for some more test results. Aunt Margot is flying in soon and will drive me home. You’re supposed to be forgetting about this place,” she chided. “Tell me all about the job.”

“I was going to go over the list—”

“She knows all about that. Don’t you worry.”

I debated whether to argue the point. Mom’s care plan was convoluted at the best of times, without an emergency cropping up.

“Which tests are you waiting on? Did they take more bloods?”

Offhandedly, she said, “Same ones, the results were held up.” It’d happened a handful of times before and always resulted in her staying a day or two longer. Being so far away, and not able to consult the doctor like usual had me on edge. Mom was the type of person to go with the flow, not make waves, but sometimes, especially when it came to hospitals, you had to be that pushy person, the one who demanded explanations, otherwise you’d sink into the background, faded, forgotten because they were so busy, so understaffed.

“Usually when you speak to someone on the phone, you actually speak ,” she said. “I can hear those cogs in your brain ticking over.”

Her voice was bright, despite the coughing fit. Maybe I was reading too much into it because I wasn’t with her. “OK. OK.” I said with a small laugh.

“Well, talk, honey! What’s the job entail?”

I smiled, thinking of what she’d make of the farm. “We’ll be tapping the maples for syrup, and driving tractors.” What else had Clay said? “The place needs an overhaul, but it’s beautiful, in its own ruined way.”

“And that’s fate, taking you somewhere like that, and with the click of your fingers, you land yourself a job.”

“Mm,” I mumbled. “But what if I’m not cut out for that kind of thing?”

“How hard can it be? Wake up when the birds do and get to work. All that fresh air will be a balm for your soul. You’re a tree-hugging hippy, just like me. You just haven’t found the right trees, yet. Maybe this is your chance?”

Laughter barreled out of me. “Yeah, maybe all I need is good ol’ hug from a maple tree.”

She clucked her tongue. “Trees have feelings too, Lucy. I think you’re on a winner.”

I shook my head. This was her way, sensing an energy in things: trees, grass, flowers, and teaching me to really see them, look at them like they meant something. And while it probably sounded cuckoo to most people, it had given me a greater appreciation when it came to painting or sketching. But I jibed her anyway, “You’re one step away from pulling the tarots cards out, Mom.”

“Oh, please, I’ve been doing your cards since you left. And I see a bright future for you, full of all the things you should’ve had already.” Mom’s voice cracked. She paused, pulling herself together before changing the subject. “Tell me the owner of the farm is some hot, buff, love god.”

I spluttered into my hands. “Mom!”

“What?” I pictured her face, the expression she pulled when she was trying to appear innocent, when she was far from it. “A vacation romance is a must! So tell me about this mysterious man.”

I stifled a giggle. “Well he’s certainly buff, and I did see him shirtless—”

“SHIRTLESS!” She said the word so loudly it was in capitals.

“Shirtless, and sweaty. It was as good as you imagine it to be.” We’d always talked more like best friends than mother and daughter, and when it came to men it was no different. Back home, my relationships had been sporadic, life was too busy, but on the rare occasions I dated Mom knew all the details. Well…almost all. A girl has to keep a few secrets.