Walnut Bottom Farm, Books 1 & 2 Read online

  A few people were still swimming in the lake. Down the side of the slope was a long 100 ft. homemade super slip and slide set up next to the giant inflated bounce house. Kids ran about throwing balls and Frisbees. A sack race was being organized by the volunteer fire department. Smoky fires from barbecued chicken, burgers, hotdogs and pulled pork mingled with the scent of sunblock and s'mores. Sticky faced children were walking around with hefty watermelon wedges. There were face painting and pony rides. It was like a fair.

  Bruce said the party would go on all night. Most families would leave after the fireworks, but there would be a tent city in the grove of pines at the edge of the field. The town band would be done playing before the fireworks started, but people would continue to play and sing around a bonfire all night.

  It reminded Calla of the county fairs she would go to with Lexi's family during summer road trips. Those were the only times she’d ever left the city as a girl. It was those long drives through the country that sparked Calla's fascination for old homesteads and landscapes.

  Again, she wondered where Lexi was and then guessed that perhaps she was at the house getting her things settled in the guest room. More like sisters than friends, Calla and Lexi had been inseparable since middle school. It was no surprise to Calla when Lexi expanded on her already successful realty career to include Walnut Bottom. Lexi began investigating the possibilities while Calla and Bruce were still dating and quickly made herself an expert on the area, its countryside and commerce.

  "There you are, dear. Do you remember meeting Bud at Dad's funeral?" Bruce popped up beside her, "This is who I mean when I talk about Uncle Bud. He was Dad’s closest friend and he's also the town’s sheriff, has been for a long time."

  "Bud Spears, nice to meet you on a brighter day." He extended his hand and Calla shook it.

  "It's nice to see you again. Bruce talks about you a lot. He says you looked out for him when he was going through his 'rebellious teenager' phase," Calla recalled.

  "Well, his dad and I have been looking out for each other since boot camp. How has Grace been?"

  To Calla's surprise the question was directed at her rather than Bruce. "She's fine. I think she's still in the house. Said she would be out later.” Calla really didn't know how else to answer; the two women talked less and less lately.

  "You know how she is. Not much for excitement," Bruce added.

  "Ha! You should have known Gracie when she was your age. The woman was a pistol! I think I should go roust her out of the house." Bud walked off toward the lane while Bruce and Calla laughed at the thought of the ever-dignified Mrs. Cowen as young pistol.

  "You look beautiful, Calla, even if your sundress is a little too short," Bruce said with a wink.

  "Thanks. And it's not a sundress. It's a swimsuit cover-up."

  "Well, I guess that explains the red underwear under a sheer white dress. With your hair up in that blue bandanna I suppose you are dressed appropriately for the holiday," he stated it plainly, not meaning to offend her. It just came out sounding wrong, to Calla at least.

  "What the hell is it with you lately? Everything I do, wear, or say is held under your fucking microscope of appropriateness."

  In an attempt to quell Calla's rising voice Bruce lowered his, "Language, Calla. There are kids around. Please don't embarrass our family today. We've known most of these people all our lives. They are our community and our customers."

  In no mood for a lecture, Calla spun on a heel with a flip of her hair and shot back over her shoulder, "I thought Independence Day was supposed to be something to talk about around here.” She flounced away. Growing bolder with misplaced patriotic pride every step away from her speechless husband, Calla practically ran to the slip and slide. Throwing off her cover-up, she raised a loud "woo hoo!" With a running start she launched herself on her belly, head first down the slippery wet slide.

  Lexi had heard her friend holler and watched her come down the slide like a speeding red torpedo. She met her at the bottom as Calla was standing up, both breasts standing up as tall and proud as she. They had escaped her bikini top. Everyone who turned to see her go down the slide fell out in laughter. She gasped when she looked down to see her own nipples where two white stars were supposed to be. Guess there's something to talk about, she thought.

  Lexi quickly helped her adjust her top and then put an arm around her red-faced friend and began walking with her up the hill to retrieve her cover-up. Halfway up Calla's walk of shame they ran right into Bruce, Grace, Clayton and Bud. All had faces as red as hers, only Bud’s was red from trying to stifle his snickering. Not a trace of humor could be found on the other three.

  "Having a good time?" Grace asked dryly.

  "Working on it,” was her short reply. Following a brief, but heavy silence, Calla took a deep breath and introduced Lexi to Bud and Clayton. "This beautiful and appropriately dressed woman is my friend Alexis Green."

  Lexi wore a red cotton dress. It was knee length, gauzy and delicately ruffled. Crowning her silky long black hair was a ring of red, white and blue flowers with streaming ribbons. Standing next to her, Calla suddenly felt more undressed than she had during her little wardrobe malfunction. She quickly finished the introductions and excused herself to jog the rest of the way and grab her cover-up. On the way back down to them, she noticed Lexi and Clayton were speaking to one another and they looked good together. Look out Ruby, she thought to herself, there's a new lady in red. As she approached she asked Clayton, "Did you bring your guitar?"

  "No. But I brought an appetite."

  "Let's all go get a plate of food before they start cleaning up. It'll be dark in an hour or so." Bruce suggested, nearly in a growl, simmering inside at the fact that half the town had just seen his wife’s breasts. That tiny little string bikini left little to the imagination as it was.

  As they ate, Bruce and Clayton talked about farming. Grace and Bud caught up on the news and goings on of the people they'd known a long time. Lexi and Calla talked about painting and real estate. Their three separate conversations merged into one as Lexi mentioned a particularly interesting and beautiful farm she was working up a listing for.

  "It still uses a windmill to power its well pump, barn and outdoor lights. The previous owner was one of the first pioneers of alternative energy and he built the home and his entire farm to be self-sufficient, independent of any utility company other than the phone company. The house itself is different. It was built of stone and huge logs, right against the mountain, and has a living roof of beautiful purple crown vetch. I’ve heard that people have called it the Hobbit House." Lexi had never seen a property like it.

  Bud and Grace knew the family that once lived there. The woman was a midwife and had delivered many babies along the ridge. Home deliveries were still common among lower income families in the hills and her skills and care were well known. Two of their four daughters became doctors and the couple now lived with the oldest daughter and her family on a ranch in Wyoming.

  Bruce remembered visiting the farm in past summers to trade his grandmother's peaches and jam for honey and beeswax. His mother had once promoted the idea that he should ask Lillian Drake, the youngest, to the prom. Bruce had not acted on the suggestion. Lillian was beautiful, but uninterested in dating. She was ambitious and goal-driven and could not be distracted from her studies or projects. If Lillian had ever even acted like a teenage girl, no one had noticed.

  "Calla, you would just love to paint this place!" Lexi went on enthusiastically, "There is a nineteenth century stone barn and several intriguing wooden and stone outbuildings. Some are draped with vines and there are blooming wildflowers everywhere. A deep clear stream runs through the south end of the property."

  "Perhaps I should see this place," Clayton interrupted. "It sounds like just the kind of home I've imagined building one day. Could you take me to have a look?"

  "I'd love to. Would you have time tomorrow?" Lexi asked.

  "I'll make time."
r />   "Could you make a day of it?" Bud asked. "The Drake farm is just over the other side of the ridge behind Walnut Bottom Farm and the old carriage road is still passable on horseback. We could all go, pack a lunch. I knew that farm pretty well and could tell you what the various buildings were used for. Think you can still sit on a horse, Grace?"

  Grace recalled the first time she rode that trail and blushed. Everyone assumed that it was due to Bud's invitation. "I think so. I'll pack a picnic. Bruce, you and Calla should come, too."

  "I guess I could use some fresh inspiration," Calla replied, "and I'd like to try a trail ride."

  "Me too!" Lexi piped up.

  "Then I guess it's a plan. What time should I be here?" Clayton looked to Bud and Bruce.

  "How about eleven? I’ll have some chores to attend to first," Bruce said.

  Everyone agreed. Calla quickly finished eating and then excused herself to change into dry clothes before the fireworks started.

  Calla returned, as everyone was getting comfortable on blankets or lawn chairs. Grace looked up, spotted her red plastic cup and immediately offered a bit of wisdom, "Oh, I see you found the beer keg. Just don't overdo it, Calla, dear. Riding horseback with a hangover is bound to be unpleasant."

  Seeing Calla go crimson and grind her teeth at the remark, Bud broke the tension. "Now, what would you know of such things, Gracie?" As Grace blushed the second time that day, Bud gave Calla a little wink that seemed to say 'don't let her bug you.' Calla wondered what was left unsaid, but was glad to see someone could silence Mrs. Cowen.

  The six of them sitting together, gazing up at the kaleidoscope of fireworks bursting overhead, became lost in the oohs and ahhs that echoed down the hillside between booms. Each one, however, had a tingling sense of excitement and apprehension that they could not place. Change was in the air.

  Chapter 3

  Breakfast Theater

  “Four in the morning!” Calla gritted through her teeth, beneath her feather down duvet. And I thought the city was noisy! This is pure chaos! She went on and on in her mind, at the same time trying to believe she could go back to sleep. The door slamming and pan clanging persisted. Resigned to being up for the day, she sat up, found her chemise and slipped it on. Sliding out her long legs and taking two steps, she found her kimono atop the bedpost and slipped it on to head in search of coffee.

  Grace was flipping an omelet and Bruce was tying his boots. Unable to avoid getting into Grace's way, Calla finally procured a cup of coffee. Sitting down across from her husband, having not reciprocated the two ‘good mornings’ spoken at her appearance, she stated flatly, "It's very early."

  Grace was quick to explain, "Your husband has work to tend to here before we have to ready the horses, and I have chores, food to prepare and lunches to pack. Sorry to have disturbed you." The last bit was spoken ever so slightly lower and slower. The cat, stretched out in the window, jumped down and ran out.

  Bruce tied faster, filled his thermos cup and grabbed a paper towel, two slices of bread and his omelet. "I should be done by nine or so." He kissed both women on the forehead and headed out.

  "Having breakfast?” Grace asked Calla.

  "I'll get something later, thanks. Can I help you with the lunches? "

  "Not necessary.”

  "Well I'm already up, so let me know if you change your mind." Taking her coffee with her, she left to take a quick shower. In no hurry to start her day, she put her nightie and kimono back on and returned for more coffee, hair wrapped in a towel, and went back to bed with the book she'd been carrying around.

  Around 7:30 there was a light tap at her door and Lexi popped in, still in her pajamas. She climbed up under the covers, "Good morning, cowgirl."

  "Feels like noon. How could you sleep with that insane racket? I've been up since four."

  "I was awake, but knew cupboard door slamming is code for mama’s in a bad mood. I preferred stuffing in my earbuds and listening to a meditation soundtrack to tiptoeing through the eggshells. Went back to sleep."

  "How wise of you. I have to live here."

  "Only a couple more years. Isn't that the plan? Just until he’s ready to build your own place?"

  "Yeah. That's the plan at least."

  "Well, shouldn't you be looking at catalogs and home and garden magazines?"

  "We'll probably be divorced before two years. Things are so different now."

  "Oh, come on Calla! It just sounds like a rough phase. Don't be so quick to say the 'D' word. Bruce is such a loving and hardworking man, not to mention my last ray of optimism to ever meeting a man I could love, respect and trust enough to talk about the 'M' word with. Now get dressed. We're having breakfast at the inn."

  An hour later with fruit and cottage cheese platters on the back terrace of the Brass Lantern Inn, they continued to catch up on their lives and listened to the stream that ran beneath the giant hemlocks below them. Almost finished with their meals, they simultaneous slowed in nibbling and sipping, trying to figure out what they were hearing from a nearby guest room. A man and woman were having an increasingly loud conversation.

  “Brenda, answer me, now, or I will drop this on the floor right here and break it! Is this not the vase you wanted in Williamsburg?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one that glassblower wanted $400 for you to buy?”

  “Yes.”

  “The vase we decided was too far out of our vacation budget?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Didn't we plan this vacation and budget together?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you pay for this without the travelers checks coming up short?”

  “I went to an ATM and withdrew the money from the Christmas Club account. I thought I'd be able to make up the difference by December.”

  “And how were you going to explain having the vase?”

  Silence.

  “BRENDA! ANSWER ME!”

  “I was going to wait until Christmas, and then say it was gift from my mother.”

  “You figured I’d have forgotten that I had seen it AND you were going to ask your mother to lie? You were going to act as if your poor little self can't buy nice things because of your cheapskate husband?”

  “Well, no. Not like that. You know Mother loves you. I'm so sorry; I just wanted it so bad. It's just perfect, and the colors are beautiful. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it was made for our dining room table. I thought if I didn't get it I would regret it forever, but as soon as I did and hid it in back of the trunk, I wished I hadn't. I tried to return it the next day before we left, but all the shop would offer was store credit. It's been eating at me ever since and I thought about telling you what I had done, but I didn't want to ruin our vacation. I am truly sorry.”

  Another, longer, silence, except that it sounded like Brenda was crying a little.

  “Brenda, I will let you keep the vase.”

  “Oh, thank you, Ben. I didn't think you would be so understanding.”

  “Don't thank me yet, wife. I still don't understand how you would think it okay to be so deceptive and go to such lengths to have a pretty glass vase. It was disrespectful and dishonest and I am angry and hurt. I need to know that I can trust you, and you broke that trust over something as petty as an overpriced knickknack! I won't let this ruin the rest of our trip, but it has certainly ruined our day. Do you accept that you deserve to be punished?”

  “Yes, I do understand. But I'm SO sorry. I promise NEVER to do anything like this again. You don't have to, I promise.”

  “Brenda, I believe that you are sorry and you probably won't. But I am still angry and need to vent some of that where it is due, so it doesn’t fester for the rest our trip. I couldn't respect myself if I allow you to get away with this. I also won’t chance having you lose respect for my word. I love you, Brenda, and I take our marriage seriously. I won't let these kinds of problems go on and come between us. Now, I found that vase trying to get to the fishing tackle. That is what I
would rather be doing, and you would just be waking up to a nice room service breakfast. I don't want to, but I intend to discipline you for this. Now, do you accept that or do you need time?”

  “I... I... I'm sorry. I'm not ready, but I do want it to be over with.”

  “I know, honey. Now go use the restroom if you need to and when you're ready, bring my belt.”

  "Oh my God! Lexi, should we call the police?"

  "No way! Stay out of it, Calla! My dad would have done the same thing if my mom paid $400 for a vase. Besides, it would probably just embarrass that poor woman and you'd get fired. It's not like her husband is cursing at her and throwing her around the room. At least he has a grip on his temper, unlike that guy on the news last week that just ‘accidentally’ choked his wife to death. Shh! I think I just heard the toilet flush."

  “Ok. Lift up your nightgown and bend over the arm of that plush chair over there... panties down...”

  For a minute or two there was silence. Calla and Lexi didn’t eat or speak, just sat staring silently at their plates.

  “Brenda, stop whimpering. I haven't even started yet and I know you do it so I'll pity you and go easy. Here, use this pillow so the whole place doesn't have to suffer your cries. I expect you to be as quiet as possible and stay in position. If not, I promise you’ll get it twice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  CRACK!

  Brenda screamed out loud.

  “Pillow, Brenda. Back in position. Don't make me warn you again. You're a grown woman and should be able to take your medicine without behaving like a child...” CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK... the belt cracked on and on, fast and loud. They could still hear Brenda's muffled cries in her pillow.

  “Brenda, move your hands and get back into position. You've just earned yourself another spanking after this is finished. If you move one more time, you're also looking at another before breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. I'm sorry.”