The Cherry Harvest Read Free Page A

quiet. “It’s not about politics, it’s about survival.”
    â€œHere, here!” Artie led the growers to their feet.
    Thomas gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze.
    Bo wasn’t smiling now. He nodded down the table toward Ole and Mike.
    â€œFine, then. Do it.” Mike’s voice boomed. “But let the record show . . .” He pointed to the growers, his eyes focused on Charlotte. “Let the record show that you— you —are making a bargain with the devil.”

CHAPTER TWO
    A SHAFT OF LIGHT swung across the ceiling and disappeared. Kate could count the minutes before it came again, pulsing through the night from the lighthouse half a mile up the coast.
    A cool evening breeze flowed in through her open window along with the gentle lapping at the shore below. She was over the rabbit now, but even more determined to leave this place in the fall. Snuggling under her quilt, Kate chose a novel from the stack on her nightstand and opened to the first page: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again . . .” Oh, this was going to be good.
    Bingo jumped onto the bed and purred for attention. Kate plumped her pillows behind her, nestled the cat in her lap, and fell readily into the story.
    The rumble of Father’s truck broke the spell. Kate continued reading, but when she heard Mother and Father coming up the stairs—were they arguing?—she could no longer focus. Family conversations were generally respectful, though lately Kate sensed tension beneath the polite words. It was Father’s voice now. “If even one of those PWs sneaks off . . . I’ll be out in the orchard . . . who will protect you and Kate?”
    Kate slipped out of bed and stood near her door, listening. German war prisoners in the orchard?
    A gust off the lake brought gooseflesh to her skin. She hugged her flannel nightgown tight around her. If only Ben were here. Since he’d left, nothing was right. She had to talk to Josie.
    After closing her door, she pulled on overalls and a thick wool sweater. She switched off her reading lamp, reached out her window, and grabbed hold of a thick oak branch.
    Her Schwinn bicycle was her way out. It didn’t take her far, not nearly far enough, but it took her to Josie’s. Before gas rationing, she could have taken the motorboat, but now she wasn’t allowed to use it. Besides, it would make too much noise in the quiet night.
    The path followed the scoop of bay, edging between the beach on her right and the front yard on her left. Approaching the woods, Kate rode through the cedar trees and passed by the caretaker’s cottage. Designed as a smaller version of the house, the cottage had been abandoned for years. This was where Josie wanted to live after she and Ben were married, and she had been bringing things to it, little by little—a framed mirror for the bedroom, a watercolor of a house with a white picket fence for the living room, sheets and pillows and a quilt for the double bed. Kate had promised to make lacy curtains.
    Just beyond the cottage, a crackle in the cedar branches startled her—a white-tailed doe and two speckled fawns. She rode quickly past, not worried about the deer but about the coyotes that would be attracted to the little ones. She didn’t want to be in their path if they came yelping.
    When she reached Island Road, Kate leaned her bicycle against a birch tree, kicked off her canvas loafers, and rolled up the legs of her overalls. The channel was about twenty yards across. Until a few months ago, a footbridge had connected the island to the mainland, but a winter storm brought it down. The lighthouse keeper ferried to the mainland by boat, and for anyone who might venture by foot, hehad fastened a rope alongside the fallen bridge. Today, because of the storm surge, the water was high. Kate grabbed the rope and stepped barefoot into the cold water, which reached nearly to her knees.
    She was about