Reap (The Harvest Saga Book 1) (15 page)

Smiling at him I narrowed my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Is that what I think it is?” He eyed the pastry a few feet away, its dough crisscrossing across the top, weaving a pattern of tasty goodness. I grinned in reply. Apple pie was Ky’s favorite. And Lulu planted her own apple tree, so we could have apples of our own. They were nowhere near as big as those in the orchard, but they were sweet, juicy and wonderful for baking.

He moved closer to the pie. I kept my eye on him. “What’s that?” He pointed to the stove.

Nothing was out of place. “What?”

I looked back and caught him. His finger was stuck into one of the lattice holes of my pie. “Kyan! Remove your finger from my pie, right now!” I yelled.

He grinned, took his finger out of the pie and licked it off. “Mmm.” He literally moaned. “Your spices are the best, Abby Blue.”

I ticked my head toward the stove. “Want some roast?”

Kyan chuckled as he pulled two bowls and two glasses from the cupboard. “Did you even have to ask?”

The dinner was like a feast. The meat was so tender it fell apart at the touch of my fork. The vegetables were cooked to perfection. Potatoes, carrots, and cabbage floated happily the beefy broth. We wasted no time devouring the contents of our bowl and then another. As I sliced the pie, Kyan watched me intently.

“Is that drool on your chin?” I teased.

“Probably. You make the best pie in the entire village.” He seemed serious, though I know his mama made pie all the time and everyone liked their own mama’s cooking. I loved Lulu’s pies. She taught me how to make this one.

We ate our slices and talked. He told me about the numbers, the amount of apples harvested was more than any year before. Thousands and thousands of pounds were put onto trains during the harvest and sent to Olympus. He said that some would be sent to big buildings that house all sorts of different food. Residents could go pick out what they wanted to cook and the apples would be offered to them as an option.

Other apples would be sent to the Greater factories where they would be made into applesauce, apple butter, cakes, and pies that the Greaters could buy in the city. Some of those products would be sent to the other Greater cities, too. It seems very complex, but organized.

“I can stay tonight, Abs.”

“No. You need to go home and rest. The festival is tomorrow.”

“I know.” He sounded somber.

“Do you hate that you won’t be getting married tomorrow?”

His rich brown eyes met mine. “Yes.” His answer was so quiet, so unlike Kyan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come between you and Paige. Maybe you can talk to her, tell her how you feel and work it out before tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t lie to Paige. I didn’t want to marry her. I never did. Our parents pushed us into it.”

“But you said you were upset that you weren’t getting married tomorrow?”

“I am.”

“Okay. I am confused. It’s official.” I pushed my plate away and leaned back in my chair, my stomach holding a very rare full feeling.

He laughed. “I wish I were getting married tomorrow. Just not to Paige Winters.”

He cleared his throat.
I hope he isn’t about to say what I think he is.
“Abby, I wish with all my heart I could marry tomorrow.” He paused. “I wish I could marry you, tomorrow.”

He said it and now I can feel the air against my widened eyeballs.
“Ky—”

“Don’t Abby. Just don’t. I know how you feel. I see how you look at Crew.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and refused to make eye contact with him.

“You look at Crew the way I look at you.” I finally looked at him. He was staring at me.

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could say.

He shrugged and put another fork full of pie into his mouth. Before he finished chewing, he said, “He’s leaving, you know.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Soon.”

“I know, Ky.”

“Maybe we can get to know each other better after he’s gone and maybe this time next year we’ll be preparing for our wedding.”

“Ky. I cannot imagine knowing you any better than I already do. You’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to just be your best friend.” He slapped the table with his open palm. The plates and silverware clang together. I was just as startled.

“I know.”

“I love you, Abby Blue.” He pushed back his chair and crossed the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He loved me. Why couldn’t I bring myself to love him back? The way he needs it.

My fingers prune quickly in
the soapy dishwater. I was like a robot. I stoked the fire and extinguished the candles along the wall and mantle. I scrubbed my body as well as I could without actually bathing and pulled on my flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved light pink t-shirt that matched them.  I pulled the covers on my bed up to my neck and drift off to sleep quickly despite the turmoil in my mind. This harvest season has been one that I’d like to forget but know I won’t soon be able to any time soon.

I dreamed that a hand clasped over my mouth. My body thrashed and I tried to scream. Nothing worked.  I tried to bite the hand smothering me but couldn’t grasp hold of flesh. An arm held my body still as I was dragged from my bed, kicking. Muffled screams and sobs echoed out into the night, but no one was around to hear me. No one could help me. I begged for my mind to stop this assault, but then I heard it. The distinct sound of horses hooves pounding earth a few feet away. Parched dust assaults my nose and clogs my throat making me cough and gag. This was real. I twisted my head and made out the shiny slash of his scar. Norris. Norris was taking me from my home.

“Scream and I will kill you right here, right now,” he gritted through clenched teeth. I felt sharp, cold metal pressing against my right side. I nodded.

“Get up on the horse.” He lifted me up and I helped maneuver my leg over and sat in the saddle as he mounted, positioning himself behind me. He wrapped one arm around me, digging the knife blade under my rib, and grabbed the reins with his other hand, whipping them harshly. The animal grunted and took off into the night. With every gallop, I could feel the knife cut a little deeper. Cold, wetness seeped into the shirt on my stomach.

“Norris.”

“Shut up! Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?” he hissed in my ear.

“You’re cutting me.” My voice was frantic and shrill. He looks down to where I pointed and grinned, but pulled the knife blade away from my skin.

“So I did.”

He took me over a trail I’d never seen, far away from the village. He was going to kill me. I wondered this was what he’d done to Lulu. I fought tears back into my eyes, blinking rapidly. Norris would not get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. He would not see me cower. We traveled through woods, next to a small pond before coming to a clearing. I could see a small cabin ahead, lit candles twinkling in the windows. The glow of a fire within warmed the harsh, black night around it.

Norris hitched his black beast to a post in front of the house. Dread crept into my stomach. This was his cabin. It was so remote. No one would hear me here. No one would find me. As if reading my thoughts, he started to laugh and pulled me off the saddle.

“On the porch,” he ordered.

I obeyed and watched him push a pail of water, and another of oats in front of his horse. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he chuckled, pushing the front door open for me and sweeping his hand forward dramatically.

His cabin wasn’t much different than ours in its layout. But his furnishings were plain and the entire place reeked of cigar smoke. He undoubtedly got those from his boss. No one but Councilmen could afford to smoke. No one else had the time to waste or goods to trade for the cigars or cigarettes.

The kitchen was bare, with the exception of a small wood burning stove and the dishes that were precariously piled in the sink. A small, rusty water pump sat idle beside the sink itself. A luxury. It was lucky to have placed the house so close to a well, or found one so close to the cabin itself. Most people had to carry water from the streams. Even the Preston’s did. Lulu and I were constantly toting water home for drinking, washing laundry or dishes, cooking or cleaning up in the evenings when bathing wasn’t an option.

Across from the small kitchen sat a small square table with two rickety wooden chairs. Coats and shirts were haphazardly thrown over the chair backs. A single wooden rocker was positioned in front of the small fireplace. “Sit.”

Norris motioned toward it. I complied, causing the chair to rock forward and creak in protest. He took his time stacking firewood in the fireplace in front of me before adding the kindling, which consisted of some sort of paper. The cabin was completely silent except for his shuffling around. Even the horse was still. The strike of the match he held caused me to flinch as I wondered what was going to happen to me. I didn’t fear death itself, just what I would have to endure to find the peace that only death could provide. No doubt, if Norris was in control, torture would be but a taste of what I could expect. I recalled the way his eyes lit up as he ripped the flesh off my back. It only took fifteen lashes for him to scrape bone.

He pushed himself up and turned toward me. “Get up.”

His hair hung in greasy strings over his forehead. Chunks of dinner still dangled between his teeth, though I wasn’t sure if it was from tonight’s or one earlier in the week. He grabbed my elbow roughly and jerked me down the hallway.
No freaking way I’m going into his bedroom.

“No.” I planted my feet, but he jerked me forward another foot.

“Come. On,” he grunted, jerking me again. I lost another foot to him.

“No!” I yelled. “I’m not going in there with you.”

All of the sudden, he loosened his grip and laughed. “You could never satisfy the needs of a man like me. Don’t flatter yourself, Abigail Kelley. You’ll be staying in here tonight. My orders were simply to collect you. For now.”

He jerked me into a bedroom. A dirty mattress lay on the floor beneath a candle holder on the wall. There was a small, white ceramic pitcher in the corner and a matching empty plate next to it. “Get on the mattress.”

I sat down on the lumpy rectangle and crossed my legs. Norris clamped his big paw around my forearm and then clapped an iron manacle around my wrist. It was attached to a chain that had been drilled and affixed to the wall itself. It was just long enough that I could step a few feet away from the mattress itself, and so that I could reach the pitcher and plate. I noticed a small metal bucket in the other corner and it looked like I could reach it, too.

“Water is in the pitcher. I’ll bring you bread at daybreak. You can use the bucket for your personal needs.” He smirked at me and I wanted to rip the chain out of the wall, wrap it around his neck and squeeze the life out of his smug face.

He laughed as he stepped outside the room. I heard the distinct sound of a key turning the lock on my door. My cell.

∞

Sometime in the night, or
morning, I’d fallen asleep on the dirty mattress. I sat up and stretched my back from the discomfort of that small lumpy mat. The smell of musk and mold wafted up from it, and now I realized that having slept on it, I smelled like that dirty mattress, too. Gross. Norris did not return at dawn. The biggest part of me was thankful. But, a small part was starving and scared. The fear of the unknown was causing my mind to run wild.

Near midday, I heard him and his evil beast of a horse approach and rustle around outside the cabin. Then I heard another voice. Councilman Preston was here. The front door opened and closed again before two sets of footsteps echoed down the hall, pausing in front of my door. I could hear the key being inserted into and twisting in the lock. Slowly, the wooden door creaked open. I should have lay down and pretended to sleep. But, instead, stare wide eyed at the two pathetic excuses for men in front of me.

The Councilman’s eyes were blue. Not as icy as Zander’s, but not a deep blue either. They fixated on me. “You’ve caused quite a few problems for me lately, Abigail.” He paced the dirty floor in front of me. “How dare you accuse me, speak to me, in public! Do you know the trouble you’ve caused?” His face contorted in rage and reddened with each harsh breath he drew. “You humiliated Zander. We welcomed you into our family with open arms and you repay me by dragging me in front of the Council?”

I kept quiet, damn near chewing my tongue to keep from letting loose on him.

“Bring it in,” he yelled into the house. Someone else was here.

Mrs. Preston stepped into the room holding a white mass of fabric that bubbled up out of her arms.
Seriously? The wedding dress. Are they still going to try to make me marry their son?

She smiled tightly. 

“Clean her up. Get her dressed.” He barked.

Mrs. Alyce Preston accepted a small key, nodded compliantly and watched as her husband stepped out of the room with Norris following behind like a lost pup.

She hung the gown on one of the wrought iron sconces and then moved forward. Without comment, she used the key to remove my restraint. Relief coursed through my wrist. I rubbed it, calming the itchy skin that had lay beneath. The iron was hard, tight, and unyielding and my skin screamed from the fresh air that assaulted it. Pitcher in hand, she stuck her hand in and pulled out a small cloth.

“Wash your face.” Her voice cracked. I grabbed the cloth from her and scrub. “Now the rest of you.” I washed my neck and chest, pushed my sleeves up and wash my arms. She nodded her approval and took the cloth back, throwing it into the pitcher again. Her hair was perfectly knotted at the nape of her neck, as usual. She pulled out a small comb from her pocket and motioned for me to turn around, before she began to comb my hair.

“Why are you dressing me up?”

Silence.

“Please. Why are you doing this? I don’t want to marry Zander. He would be miserable, too. Don’t you get it?”

“You won’t be marrying Zander, today.”

“Then why all of this?” Her eyes hardened.

“You’ve caused a lot of problems for my husband and family.” She jerked the comb through my hair hard. Tears sprang into my eyes from the assault. She ignored my pleas and braided my hair, pinning it up in silence. Tears had streaked down my face and splashed onto the legs of my pajamas.

“Get up and undress.”

I sat still. “Why should I?”

“Do it,” she leaned in to face me. “Or, I’ll see that Norris does it.”

I undressed and stood in front of her covered only by my bra and panties. She released the gown from its hanger. It’s tulle fabric stretched over only one shoulder, gathered tightly at the waist and then cascaded down the full skirt in a thick, rich flow of fabric so full, I couldn’t imagine holding it up, much less walking in it. She lifted the gown and I folded my hands as though I was swan diving and sank into the fabric as it was pulled over my head. It was made to fit my every curve.

For a moment, I allowed myself to daydream. I thought of the Harvest Festival, of all of the beautifully adorned couples. The girls would wear dresses of every shade of the rainbow, hair curled or braided. The guys would be dressed sharply in crisp, dark suits, their hair slicked back. Music would pour from speakers and the couples would swirl and twirl in the evening air by the light of thousands of candles made for just this event.

I could see Crew walking toward me. I would be wearing this gown. Laney would have let me use some of her makeup and my skin would be glowing beautifully in the candlelight. His skin would be flawless and pale, contrasting with his dark hair. His jaw would be freshly shaven, and he would smell of spice and Crew. His hands would encircle my waist and pull me in as his lips closed in on mine...

Mrs. Preston slammed the door behind her as she exited, ripping me from my fantasy. A moment later, Norris entered and jerked me out of the room, down the hall and out onto the porch. A long piece of rope hung from the tree just out front to the right, its end formed into a noose. I shivered.
This is how it ends.
Zander stood on the porch facing me, his hands tucked into his suit pockets. His eyes were cold, icy as ever. His lips formed a snarl.

“Come on, girl.” His dark eyes glittered as he led me over to the rope. Goosebumps spread over my skin and it wasn’t because of the chill in the air. Leaves crunched underfoot with each step I took toward that serpent of rope that was waiting for me.

I thought of Crew’s smile, of Kyan sticking his finger in my pie just last night, of Laney always trying to make me over into something beautiful. I remember the warmth of Lulu’s eyes and arms. How she would kiss my boo-boos and comfort me with warm tea afterwards. I imagined her brave as she met her end. Lulu was strong. Always a rock beneath the soft façade.