Chapter Thirteen

“Uncle Nate! Uncle Nate! Mom says make a miracle and have lunch packed in five minutes!” Sara shouted, and plunked an old-fashioned picnic basket at his feet. She danced in place. “We’re going on a hayride! Hurry up or they’ll leave without us. I have to get Emily out of the attic. Lots of food, Mom says.”

She ran from the room before he could ask how many. Knowing Liz, he figured a dozen people.

Liz was right. He’d purchased sandwich meat and cheese for the handymen and managed a dozen sandwiches, muffins, and turnovers from breakfast, potato salad and pasta salad from the leftover bin. The watermelon had disappeared from the cooler drawer.

By the time a red-faced Sara returned with a protesting Emily, he had the basket ready. A cooler held water and soft drinks with two bottles of wine. A hay ride was worth a nice toast.

“But I need to finish,” she complained. She grasped a handful of files. “I’m leaving.”

“Hold on to these.” Nate handed the folders to Jared. “We’ll be back with a report. This might turn into a regular event.”

Tugging Emily toward the portcullis entrance, he gestured for Jared to bring the picnic basket.

Sarah dragged one end of the cooler while Jared lifted the other.

A loud clatter announced the arrival of the hay wagon. The iron wheels were five foot high, almost topping the wooden sides. Somehow Jack had stained the old wood a deep brown since he found it. The iron wheels crunched on the gravel before he halted the team of four Percheron horses. A beautiful bay color, they pranced and tossed their heads. Their manes and tails were braided with bright red and blue ribbons.

“Watch your feet. They are eager to go,” Jack called. “I didn’t think two days without work would make them so restless. Load up the food. We’re waiting for you.”

Jack moved the wagon closer to the old stone step used by travelers in the past. Hands reached to lift Sara into the bed, and he boosted Emily up. She squealed when she lost her balance and tumbled in. She reappeared, combing straw from her red hair with her fingers.

Jared loaded the basket then the cooler.

The August sun heated Nate’s skin. He pulled himself up with his good arm before the wagon moved forward and landed in the back on a thick cushion of straw. The wagon bed was arranged with hay bales for sitting and he recognized Jacque Demers and his children were taking a day off before school started. Everyone was laughing and joking. Liz waved from the bench seat alongside Jack.

Sara crawled back to sit next to him and Emily. “Mommy said a hayride was the perfect way to end summer vacation. I go back to school after Labor Day and John starts kindergarten.” She blew a straw from her mouth.

Nate winced when John jumped onto his lap. He steadied himself to limit the jolting.

“We’s going to the covered bridge. It’s miles and miles from here,” John whispered.

Nate ruffled his hair. “Not quite,” he said. “How about it, Em? You studied the maps.”

“Mine are too old and aren’t in miles. And I don’t know what road we’re taking.” She knelt up to peer over the side. He steadied her with his hand splayed across her back when the wagon bounced. She glanced over her shoulder and he swore her hazel eyes gleamed with gold.

“Then I guess we’ll know when everyone else does.”

Emily settled against a hay bale. Others took pictures with their cell phones as the autumn trees revealed gold, red, and orange amid the green. Shade dappled the road. Black-eyed Susans lining the verge winked and nodded when they passed.

“This is so beautiful,” Emily murmured. “And it’s a perfect day. There’s still enough green and the sky is so clear it looks like glass. Oh, that reminds me. I found this in a desk upstairs.” She pulled the blue-flowered paperweight from her pants pocket and handed it to him.

“You should keep it,” he protested. He pressed it into her hand.

“No. I think it belonged to Bertha. I found it with some old letters and it should be at the inn.”

He caught her gaze. “Maybe you’ll change your mind. Think about it.”

Wiggling around, he noticed several other coolers and baskets. This outing hadn’t been as last-minute as Liz implied. He laughed softly. She knew him too well. He’d have refused, claiming too much to do, so she’d ambushed him.

The small group settled either on the bedded straw or a bale. The ones taking photos preferred the higher seats and exclaimed every time they snapped another. The pleasant smell of hay added to the peace. Liz sat beside Jack while he drove the horses. He slowed and moved over when a car wanted to pass. At this time of day, not too many drove this old farm road.

The minutes slowed and Nate enjoyed being relaxed.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Emily said quietly. “I have work waiting for me.”

“It won’t be the same. You’re almost part of the family.”

“Am I?” she asked. Again her hazel eyes gleamed with gold flecks.

“Look!” Sara jumped to the wagon side. “There’s the covered bridge!”

Shouts echoed her cry.

Even the long-time locals scrambled to see better. There was something romantic about the slow approach to the river. A faded red, the wood structure stretched across a burbling flow. Narrower than the road, the single-lane bridge went from riverbank to riverbank then widened again. The gray cedar roof and thick tongue-and-groove plank walls protected travelers from the rain and snow when the river froze. The nameplate was unreadable.

“I bet you could research the name,” he said.

Emily nodded and turned back to the view.

The rapid water churned and frothed over large boulders or spread across granite bedrock. A trout fisherman waved from the far bank. His hip-waders indicated the water was deep in places.

Driving through the bridge made a deafening racket. Shouts and yells by the youngsters had adults covering their ears. The horses tugged at the reins and picked up speed. They burst into the sun and Jack reined them to a grassy picnic area alongside the river bank. The town had set up tables to encourage people to stop.

Within minutes the four horses stood in the shade of several white birch trees. Large and spreading, the trees looked like an old-fashioned painting. Jack filled water buckets for the horses while the others pitched in to unload the food and drinks. Liz spread clothes on a table. Emily wrestled the watermelon from the wagon.

After Jack watered the horses and loosened their bridles so they could graze on the tall grass, he wandered over to hand Nate a cold soda.

“This is a great idea,” Nate said before he popped the lid. “I’m assuming you could run a regular trip and make a few dollars.”

“I’m planning it. It would pay for horse feed,” Jack replied. “But until I finish with the barn repairs and helping with the harvest on the farm, I don’t have much free time.”

Jenny ran past, a teen-aged boy in hot pursuit. “Cut that out,” Jack shouted.

Ignoring him, they raced into the water. Splashing the cold drops far and wide, they ignored their parents. Jenny’s lips immediately turned blue from the cold and she ran to Liz for a towel. Sara sat at the water’s edge, absorbed in sorting a neat pile of river smoothed pebbles.

John played catch in the grassy meadow with another boy. With everyone occupied, Nate watched Emily. He’d have to find time to persuade her to stay longer. After the inn’s grand reopening he’d have time.

Her red hair gleamed like a Titian painting and she raked her fingers through the tangles. A few straws still clung to the curls. He wanted to pluck them free.

Chatting to the neighbors, Liz handed out sandwiches. Nate’s stomach growled and he decided to grab one before they disappeared. After getting his meal and another drink, finding a seat on a boulder, he happily munched. Bertha had been right. Vermont was the place for him. He loved the land and forest, the rivers and mountains, and now that he stopped to know them, he loved the people.

“Load up, everybody! Time to head back,” Jack shouted through cupped hands.

Everyone scrambled to clean debris and toss it into the trash containers. Liz tucked a yawning John under a blanket behind the driver’s bench. Sara gathered a handful of pebbles too special to leave behind. Jenny folded towels and blankets into neat stacks.

Nate rubbed his shoulder. When he was tired it ached like the devil. Bouncing around the wagon had reminded him that he still needed to heal.

Emily turned her laughing face toward him and he forgot his arm.

Climbing over the wheel, she found a seat while Jack checked nothing was forgotten. Watered and rested, the horses twitched and swatted their tails at the flies. Nate clambered over the tailgate while Jack took his place at the driver’s seat.

The return through the bridge was equally noisy but the children were too sleepy to notice. The teenage boy fought to be seated closer to Jenny until her father told them to settle down or walk home.

Jack pointed the whip toward a dirt road cutting into the woods. “We’re heading through those maples. There’s a building where they boil syrup and the trail goes past the quarry, then to the inn. It’s a nice ride. I’ve done it dozens of time on horseback.” He whistled and chucked to get the team moving.

Emily had settled next to the children and Nate couldn’t move closer. Instead, he stuffed straw behind his back and relaxed. Ideas for new menus floated through his mind.

He opened his eyes when the wagon slowed then halted. The sunlight glittered through the leaves and Jack was explaining details about maple-sugar making. Several trees clearly revealed scars from the harvest. A smaller trail wound around other trees. Nate wondered how many trees were used to make syrup.

He caught a glimpse of broken granite slabs. They were approaching the quarry from the other side. The green hills blocked any view of the inn. Jack slowed the wagon and everyone begged to get out to explore.

“Okay. We’ll take a fifteen-minute break. Don’t wander too far. Remember the quarry pit is deep. Stay away from the edge,” Jack ordered and the teens nodded. “You behave today and we’ll be bringing you out with climbing equipment to explore. Otherwise it’s off limits.”

Nate stretched and yawned. Liz had been right about the picnic. He’d needed a few hours away from the inn’s bustle.

The group split into small bunches. The boys resumed their ball game as if uninterrupted. A couple checked the syrup trees then headed for the edge of the quarry. One took photos of the changing leaves.

A loud scream cut the air like a knife. The woman screamed again. She teetered on the granite edge. Jack beat him to her side by one step. Tears poured down her cheeks and she grabbed his outstretched hands. Her face was snow white.

“What’s the matter?” he demanded, holding her steady.

“Look!” She pointed over the side into the quarry. “Look!”

Overnight the water level had dropped dramatically. Nate could see the pipe screen fixed to the stone. The water gleamed clear as crystal. When he crouched to get a better view of what was below, his stomach rolled.

At the bottom of the cliff lay a skeleton.