April
Spring had arrived. Things hadn’t changed much on the farm. The world seemed to be coming to a complete standstill around them.
Everything was slowly growing greener. The weather had warmed up a little. Daffodils were blooming. It all felt fresh and inviting; they continued to enjoy their daily walks.
Andie spoke with her family every day. She was concerned about the situation in Italy. He couldn’t blame her.
In Scotland, they were isolated on the farm. A small measure of comfort for them. A mercy compared to what others were experiencing.
Several of the local farms had come together to set up a trading system of sorts. Eggs for produce. Produce for milk and cheese from the dairy across the county. It kept the larder full of more than just berries when getting into the village seemed less than ideal.
A scratching at the door broke Doc out of his thoughts. He abandoned his blank page and went to let Rupert inside. The Airedale danced around him, then began head-butting the back of his legs.
“Are you sure you’re not a sheepdog? Where are we going, eh?” Doc allowed himself to be pushed outside. He followed Rupert across the farm into the orchard, where he found a ladder on the ground and Andie clinging to the branches of an apple tree. “What’s your next trick going to be? Levitation?”
“I will throw apples at you.”
Laughing to himself, Doc grabbed the ladder and propped it up against the tree. He held onto it while she clambered down from her perch. She shifted the ladder to yet another tree.
“What are you doing?” Doc held the ladder while she climbed up it.
“Checking to see if they’re doing all right.” Andie came back down the ladder and turned to lean against it. “Not really necessary at this stage. They won’t be ripe for picking until late in the summer. I just… want a good harvest this year. Something good to come of this year.”
“They’ll do brilliantly. I’m sure. More fruitful than my attempts at writing have been.” Doc patted her shoulder awkwardly. “How can I help?”
“You can let go of the ladder.” Andie tried to take it from him. “I can manage.”
“Sure. But maybe I need some time outside.”
“To evade your deadline?” Andie smiled when he grumbled under his breath. “Wasn’t the fresh Scottish air supposed to get the words flowing?”
“Supposed. No guarantees. Writing can be like farming. We don’t always get a harvest from the seeds of creativity we plant.” Doc sighed. He carried the ladder and followed her through the orchard. “Fairly confident my words have abandoned me for the moment.”
“I’ll buy you a thesaurus for your birthday.” Andie pointed to another tree. “Prop it up there for me, please?”
“What are you looking for?”
“Signs of trouble. I had to remove a few trees two years ago when they developed issues. I’m paranoid about it happening again.” She clambered up the rungs and began inspecting the tree.
“Overly cautious.” He understood her fear. The farm wasn’t massive, and losses could easily stack up into something unmanageable.
“Not sure there’s a difference.” She finished her inspection and returned to the ground. “Think we’ve nothing to worry about this year. Everything seems good. A pity, since we’ve all gone into lockdown. Who knows if I’ll even be able to sell much?”
“Think it’ll put that much of a damper on your year?”
“I think we’re all in for a dreadfully different year than expected.” Andie grabbed the ladder and began carrying it back through the orchard. “Too early to say more than that. Truthfully? I’m not sure it’ll affect the demand for fruit, but the logistics of delivery might become tricky. I’m trying not to just assume the worst, which is hard.”
Following her over to the barn, Doc watched her struggle a little with the ladder when Rupert decided to grab onto one of the rungs. It was hard to tell if the dog wanted to help or play fetch. He couldn’t help laughing at her predicament.
“Rups. Stop it.” Andie settled the ladder on the ground with a little difficulty while trying not to laugh herself. “It is not a stick to fetch, you absolute numpty.”
“From his perspective, it’s many sticks to fetch.” Doc chuckled. He stepped closer to her. “Sure I can’t help?”
The words were just out of his mouth when Rupert yanked particularly hard, and Andie wound up flat on her back with the ladder over her. She laughed when her dog immediately leapt into the fray. Doc crouched down to attempt to help her up.
“Are you okay?”
“Managed to catch it with my arms, so I imagine I’ll have some bruises. Thank goodness I’ve got a newer ladder and not the heavy, wooden monstrosity my granddad used to use.” Andie laughed when Rupert tried to grab the ladder again.
He gently herded Rupert out of his way and then tried to lift the ladder off her. It didn’t help that Andie couldn’t stop giggling. “Maybe I should write about a hapless farmer and her excitable companion.”
“We’d give you plenty of fodder for the novel.” Andie took his hand and sat up. Her fingers flexed against his palm before pulling out of his grasp. “My excitement for the day is officially over. Care for a cuppa? I could use some caffeine to get me through the rest of my to-do list.”
They managed to get the ladder into the barn without much problem. Rupert seemed oddly fixated on it. Doc tried not to think about her hand in his, her fingers grazing against his palm.
His writer’s retreat had transformed into a slow form of emotional torture. Of being within reach of something precious. And not allowing himself to go for it.
Self-preservation or self-flagellation?
It was difficult to tell.
“You coming with or going to stare at the splotch of red paint on the barn a bit more?” Andie drew him out of his thoughts. She waited patiently by the barn door while he’d clearly drifted off in his thoughts.
“Sorry. Contemplating my novel.” Doc grimaced at the attempt to divert the conversation. “Or the lack of it.”
“Words will come.”
“Will they?” Doc dragged his hand roughly through his hair. “I might turn all the way grey before I type ‘the end.’”
“Makes you look ruggedly distinguished.” She winked at him before jogging toward the cottage with Rupert on her heels. “Tea’s waiting.”
And so is my soon-to-be re-broken heart.