Sunrise Point
Page 3
And then she left his office.
Chapter Two
It was three-point-four miles to the Cavanaugh Orchard. Nora did a dry run, which was when she learned that some of what she thought were her best ideas were her worst. She had considered saving for a used bicycle. It was over three miles down to a lower elevation where the trees were happier, closer to the river. And then it was three-point-four up. She could make it to the orchard in just over an hour, but getting back to town, uphill, was another story. The idea of a bicycle wasn’t going to be that helpful on the way home, especially if her legs were tired.
Rather than a used bicycle, she spent what little money she could scrape together for some of the rubber boots Maxie suggested. She had a small, used umbrella stroller she could give to Adie for the baby. Adie Clemens wasn’t strong enough to carry Fay around in the backpack; Fay weighed eighteen pounds already.
They had worked out a system for babysitting—Adie would walk three houses down to Nora’s in the early morning and stay with her sleeping children, give them breakfast, dress them and walk them down to day care, pushing little Fay in the stroller. “This will help you commit to your walking everyday even if I’m not here to remind you and walk around town with you,” Nora said. “Your blood pressure and cholesterol is so much improved since we started walking.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Adie teased.
The early hour was no strain on Adie because she was an early riser; she’d come at 5:00 a.m. with her book or morning paper and her cup of tea. It was perfect as Nora wanted to be extra early at the orchard to prove a point—that she’d do everything possible to do a good job. By Nora’s calculations, she could afford day care, barely, plus give Adie twenty dollars a week for her help. Adie was just squeaking by on her Social Security income. She said she didn’t want any money, but Nora knew it would help. Adie could use a little more money each week for necessities.
Then came the real miracle. Reverend Kincaid told her he had arranged a partial “scholarship” for day care for Fay and preschool for Berry. It nearly brought tears to her eyes and she couldn’t believe it, but apparently the church had taken on the challenge of helping some of the local working mothers to afford help with the children so they could work. It was a healthy discount and made Nora’s challenges so much more manageable. “There’s no question in my mind, once you’re on your feet, you’ll be joining the cause and helping others,” Reverend Kincaid said.
“You can count on that,” she said. “I just can’t believe every break I get from this town. I know I don’t deserve it.”
“We’re going to work on that attitude. You deserve it as much as anyone,” he said.
That first morning of work, as she left Adie before dawn, she said, “I’ll get a phone number at the orchard that you can call if you have problems.” But she wasn’t sure what she’d do if a call came. Where would she be? Out in the trees somewhere, far away from the house and office? And if it was important, was she going to run home? Uphill? “Of course if you have an emergency, you’ll call Mel Sheridan at the clinic, right?”
“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much,” Adie said. “I’m not as wimpy as I look. I have phone numbers for people in town. I’ll take the girls to the school at 9:00 a.m. and Martha and I are going to pick them up at five and bring them home for a snack. You’ll be along about that time or soon after, I expect.” Then she smiled. Adie had the sweetest smile. “We’ll be fine.”
Sometimes Adie seemed so old and frail, unlike Maxie Cavanaugh who looked like she would probably live forever. Just the news that Martha was going to pitch in gave her a little more peace of mind.
It was her plan to arrive at the orchard before the sun was up, before any of the other workers, and it hadn’t been easy. It was scary descending the mountain in the darkness, the fog gathering around her as she got lower and lower. She heard lots of rustling, hooting, squeaking—the birds were just waking up and she wasn’t sure who else was out there, concealed in the trees, thinking about breakfast. She was terrified of being eaten by some wild animal, so she kept her head down and her feet moving rapidly.
Finally the gate and orchard came into sight and she relaxed for a moment. There were some lights on in the back of the big house when she got there, but no movement anywhere else. Nora went to the building that held the office and sat on the ground, leaning against the door. She wanted to make a point to Mr. Cavanaugh, that she’d go the extra mile. And she got her wish—he came tromping out of the back porch of his big house followed by a golden dog, appearing through the morning mist as he walked toward the barn. She stood up from the ground.
He stopped short when he saw her. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“Did you change the starting date?” she returned.
“It’s today. But we don’t pick apples in the dark unless there’s threat of a freeze.”
“I… I wanted you to know I was serious about the job.”
“Well, it looks like I can count on you to stand around doing nothing until the others get here, since you haven’t worked the harvest before and don’t know where anything is.”
Oh, he was so ornery, she thought. Very difficult to please. Well, thanks to her mother, she knew how to deal with that type. “Is there anything I can do to help out until they get here?”
“Do you know how to make coffee?” he asked.
“I do,” she said. But she wasn’t sure she could make good coffee. “Where’s the pot?”
“In the break room. Behind the office.”
And she immediately thought, I’m such an idiot. There was a break room, a lunchroom! And lunch had never even crossed her mind. Well, she’d sneak an apple or two and tomorrow she’d bring a sandwich. In the break room was a large thirty-cup pot and she tried to remember how many scoops per cup of water, hoping for the best.
“Holy crap!” Tom Cavanaugh exclaimed. “Think you got enough coffee in this brew? My spoon could stand up in it!”
“My dad used to like it strong,” she said, squaring her shoulders, though she had no idea if her father even drank coffee.
“Go to the house,” he ordered. “Maxie is in the kitchen. Ask her for cream and sugar.”
No please. No if you don’t mind. “Sure,” she said.
And rather than walk, she jogged. Then she knocked on the screen door. “Come on in, Nora,” Maxie said. She was still wearing her robe and slippers, sitting at the kitchen table with her own coffee and a paper folded open to a crossword puzzle. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been sent for cream and sugar for the coffee. So far today I’ve failed in arrival time and coffee that’s too strong.”
Maxie laughed. “Is that right? Drain a cup or two and add water. That should shut him up. What was wrong with your arrival time?”
“I guess I got here too early and since I don’t know where anything is, I’m useless. Except for destroying his coffee.”
Maxie got a weird look on her face. “Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. I’d be likely to admire that in an employee. The early arrival part, I mean. By tomorrow, you’ll know where things are. And he can make his own coffee.” She pointed to the counter. “There’s the cream and sugar. Which, by the way, Tom forgot to take with him.” Nora lifted the small pitcher and bowl and Maxi said, “I’m probably going deaf, but I didn’t hear a car or truck.”
Nora turned back. “I don’t have a car. Or truck.”
Maxie regarded her steadily. “I see. Quite a long walk, isn’t it?”
“Three-point-four,” Nora said. Then she smiled. “I made very good time. I won’t come so early tomorrow, since Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t in the mood for company first thing in the morning.”
Maxie grinned and said, “Fix the coffee like I told you. The first couple of days on a new job are always kind of sketchy. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll try. And thanks for the job—I know it was your doing. I can’t tell you how much I—”
“A long, long time ago, many years before you were born, when I didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, some old woman gave me a job picking apples and it was the best job I ever had. I hope it all works out for you.”
And that brought a very grateful smile out of Nora. “Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“I’m Maxie, and that’s final. You’re entirely welcome.”
* * *
The knee-high rubber boots were an excellent investment in keeping her feet dry. The ground beneath the trees was sometimes very soggy. She wore the boots over her tennis shoes. But it was cold on the wet ground, especially in the early morning, and rubber boots did little to keep her feet warm. Her toes were icy cold and when she took her lunch break, she pulled off the boots, the socks and tennis shoes she wore inside them and gave her feet a rubbing, trying to warm them.
The other pickers, all men, wore their rubber boots over expensive, steel-toed, lace-up boots. They didn’t need to rub the life back into their toes.
Nora ran into trouble with her hands, feet, arms and shoulders. She got blisters on her hands from toting the canvas bag she looped over her shoulders and after a few days of picking apples, the blisters popped, bled and hurt like the devil. She cut her hands on wooden crates and bins if she wasn’t careful. The men wore gloves most of the time; she didn’t have gloves and her hands took a beating. She had matching blisters on her heels, just from more walking than she’d done in her life. Although she was armed with Band-Aids, they rubbed off too quickly. Even though she was in good physical condition, carrying almost fifty pounds of apples up and down a ladder in a sack that strapped over her shoulders took its toll on her shoulders, back and legs. Her right shoulder was in agony from picking, but she didn’t dare let it slow her down. She was just plain sore all over.
She had to work hard to keep up with the men. She was no match, that much was obvious. But Buddy praised her efforts now and then, telling her she was doing great for a new picker. Of course, Buddy clearly wanted a date, but she tried to ignore that since it was never going to happen.
After the first day, she didn’t walk to work in the pitch dark anymore, but she did set out in early dawn and all the same suspicious animal noises haunted her. She managed to get to the orchard just as full morning was upon them so she could make the coffee, which she had perfected. She brought a sandwich everyday—apples were on the house. And she was always the last one to leave—home by six.
By the time she got home everyday, Adie had joined forces with Martha to get the little girls home from day care, bathed and fed, a contribution so monumental it nearly moved Nora to tears, she was so grateful.
“Adie, you must be exhausted,” she said. “They wear me out!”
“I’m doing very well,” the woman replied. “I feel useful. Needed. But I’ll be the first to admit, they’re quite a lot to manage in the tub. They like the tub.”
“Thank God for Martha!” Nora said. She tried not to let it show that she had a little trouble lifting the baby into her little stroller, but Adie wasn’t paying attention to that, thank goodness.
“You know what’s wonderful? How excited they are when I come to school to pick them up,” Adie said while Nora readied her children to go home. “The teachers say the girls do very well—they eat well and nap well and seem to love being there.”
Almost more important than the added income, her girls needed to be around loving adults and other children in a safe environment. “Is Ellie Kincaid there sometimes?” Nora asked.
“I see her every morning. I think she’s some kind of official sponsor of the day care and preschool,” Adie said. “She welcomes the children and makes a big fuss over them every day. I’m volunteering to help with milk and cookie time and watching over nap time.”
Chapter Two
It was three-point-four miles to the Cavanaugh Orchard. Nora did a dry run, which was when she learned that some of what she thought were her best ideas were her worst. She had considered saving for a used bicycle. It was over three miles down to a lower elevation where the trees were happier, closer to the river. And then it was three-point-four up. She could make it to the orchard in just over an hour, but getting back to town, uphill, was another story. The idea of a bicycle wasn’t going to be that helpful on the way home, especially if her legs were tired.
Rather than a used bicycle, she spent what little money she could scrape together for some of the rubber boots Maxie suggested. She had a small, used umbrella stroller she could give to Adie for the baby. Adie Clemens wasn’t strong enough to carry Fay around in the backpack; Fay weighed eighteen pounds already.
They had worked out a system for babysitting—Adie would walk three houses down to Nora’s in the early morning and stay with her sleeping children, give them breakfast, dress them and walk them down to day care, pushing little Fay in the stroller. “This will help you commit to your walking everyday even if I’m not here to remind you and walk around town with you,” Nora said. “Your blood pressure and cholesterol is so much improved since we started walking.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Adie teased.
The early hour was no strain on Adie because she was an early riser; she’d come at 5:00 a.m. with her book or morning paper and her cup of tea. It was perfect as Nora wanted to be extra early at the orchard to prove a point—that she’d do everything possible to do a good job. By Nora’s calculations, she could afford day care, barely, plus give Adie twenty dollars a week for her help. Adie was just squeaking by on her Social Security income. She said she didn’t want any money, but Nora knew it would help. Adie could use a little more money each week for necessities.
Then came the real miracle. Reverend Kincaid told her he had arranged a partial “scholarship” for day care for Fay and preschool for Berry. It nearly brought tears to her eyes and she couldn’t believe it, but apparently the church had taken on the challenge of helping some of the local working mothers to afford help with the children so they could work. It was a healthy discount and made Nora’s challenges so much more manageable. “There’s no question in my mind, once you’re on your feet, you’ll be joining the cause and helping others,” Reverend Kincaid said.
“You can count on that,” she said. “I just can’t believe every break I get from this town. I know I don’t deserve it.”
“We’re going to work on that attitude. You deserve it as much as anyone,” he said.
That first morning of work, as she left Adie before dawn, she said, “I’ll get a phone number at the orchard that you can call if you have problems.” But she wasn’t sure what she’d do if a call came. Where would she be? Out in the trees somewhere, far away from the house and office? And if it was important, was she going to run home? Uphill? “Of course if you have an emergency, you’ll call Mel Sheridan at the clinic, right?”
“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much,” Adie said. “I’m not as wimpy as I look. I have phone numbers for people in town. I’ll take the girls to the school at 9:00 a.m. and Martha and I are going to pick them up at five and bring them home for a snack. You’ll be along about that time or soon after, I expect.” Then she smiled. Adie had the sweetest smile. “We’ll be fine.”
Sometimes Adie seemed so old and frail, unlike Maxie Cavanaugh who looked like she would probably live forever. Just the news that Martha was going to pitch in gave her a little more peace of mind.
It was her plan to arrive at the orchard before the sun was up, before any of the other workers, and it hadn’t been easy. It was scary descending the mountain in the darkness, the fog gathering around her as she got lower and lower. She heard lots of rustling, hooting, squeaking—the birds were just waking up and she wasn’t sure who else was out there, concealed in the trees, thinking about breakfast. She was terrified of being eaten by some wild animal, so she kept her head down and her feet moving rapidly.
Finally the gate and orchard came into sight and she relaxed for a moment. There were some lights on in the back of the big house when she got there, but no movement anywhere else. Nora went to the building that held the office and sat on the ground, leaning against the door. She wanted to make a point to Mr. Cavanaugh, that she’d go the extra mile. And she got her wish—he came tromping out of the back porch of his big house followed by a golden dog, appearing through the morning mist as he walked toward the barn. She stood up from the ground.
He stopped short when he saw her. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“Did you change the starting date?” she returned.
“It’s today. But we don’t pick apples in the dark unless there’s threat of a freeze.”
“I… I wanted you to know I was serious about the job.”
“Well, it looks like I can count on you to stand around doing nothing until the others get here, since you haven’t worked the harvest before and don’t know where anything is.”
Oh, he was so ornery, she thought. Very difficult to please. Well, thanks to her mother, she knew how to deal with that type. “Is there anything I can do to help out until they get here?”
“Do you know how to make coffee?” he asked.
“I do,” she said. But she wasn’t sure she could make good coffee. “Where’s the pot?”
“In the break room. Behind the office.”
And she immediately thought, I’m such an idiot. There was a break room, a lunchroom! And lunch had never even crossed her mind. Well, she’d sneak an apple or two and tomorrow she’d bring a sandwich. In the break room was a large thirty-cup pot and she tried to remember how many scoops per cup of water, hoping for the best.
“Holy crap!” Tom Cavanaugh exclaimed. “Think you got enough coffee in this brew? My spoon could stand up in it!”
“My dad used to like it strong,” she said, squaring her shoulders, though she had no idea if her father even drank coffee.
“Go to the house,” he ordered. “Maxie is in the kitchen. Ask her for cream and sugar.”
No please. No if you don’t mind. “Sure,” she said.
And rather than walk, she jogged. Then she knocked on the screen door. “Come on in, Nora,” Maxie said. She was still wearing her robe and slippers, sitting at the kitchen table with her own coffee and a paper folded open to a crossword puzzle. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been sent for cream and sugar for the coffee. So far today I’ve failed in arrival time and coffee that’s too strong.”
Maxie laughed. “Is that right? Drain a cup or two and add water. That should shut him up. What was wrong with your arrival time?”
“I guess I got here too early and since I don’t know where anything is, I’m useless. Except for destroying his coffee.”
Maxie got a weird look on her face. “Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. I’d be likely to admire that in an employee. The early arrival part, I mean. By tomorrow, you’ll know where things are. And he can make his own coffee.” She pointed to the counter. “There’s the cream and sugar. Which, by the way, Tom forgot to take with him.” Nora lifted the small pitcher and bowl and Maxi said, “I’m probably going deaf, but I didn’t hear a car or truck.”
Nora turned back. “I don’t have a car. Or truck.”
Maxie regarded her steadily. “I see. Quite a long walk, isn’t it?”
“Three-point-four,” Nora said. Then she smiled. “I made very good time. I won’t come so early tomorrow, since Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t in the mood for company first thing in the morning.”
Maxie grinned and said, “Fix the coffee like I told you. The first couple of days on a new job are always kind of sketchy. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll try. And thanks for the job—I know it was your doing. I can’t tell you how much I—”
“A long, long time ago, many years before you were born, when I didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, some old woman gave me a job picking apples and it was the best job I ever had. I hope it all works out for you.”
And that brought a very grateful smile out of Nora. “Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“I’m Maxie, and that’s final. You’re entirely welcome.”
* * *
The knee-high rubber boots were an excellent investment in keeping her feet dry. The ground beneath the trees was sometimes very soggy. She wore the boots over her tennis shoes. But it was cold on the wet ground, especially in the early morning, and rubber boots did little to keep her feet warm. Her toes were icy cold and when she took her lunch break, she pulled off the boots, the socks and tennis shoes she wore inside them and gave her feet a rubbing, trying to warm them.
The other pickers, all men, wore their rubber boots over expensive, steel-toed, lace-up boots. They didn’t need to rub the life back into their toes.
Nora ran into trouble with her hands, feet, arms and shoulders. She got blisters on her hands from toting the canvas bag she looped over her shoulders and after a few days of picking apples, the blisters popped, bled and hurt like the devil. She cut her hands on wooden crates and bins if she wasn’t careful. The men wore gloves most of the time; she didn’t have gloves and her hands took a beating. She had matching blisters on her heels, just from more walking than she’d done in her life. Although she was armed with Band-Aids, they rubbed off too quickly. Even though she was in good physical condition, carrying almost fifty pounds of apples up and down a ladder in a sack that strapped over her shoulders took its toll on her shoulders, back and legs. Her right shoulder was in agony from picking, but she didn’t dare let it slow her down. She was just plain sore all over.
She had to work hard to keep up with the men. She was no match, that much was obvious. But Buddy praised her efforts now and then, telling her she was doing great for a new picker. Of course, Buddy clearly wanted a date, but she tried to ignore that since it was never going to happen.
After the first day, she didn’t walk to work in the pitch dark anymore, but she did set out in early dawn and all the same suspicious animal noises haunted her. She managed to get to the orchard just as full morning was upon them so she could make the coffee, which she had perfected. She brought a sandwich everyday—apples were on the house. And she was always the last one to leave—home by six.
By the time she got home everyday, Adie had joined forces with Martha to get the little girls home from day care, bathed and fed, a contribution so monumental it nearly moved Nora to tears, she was so grateful.
“Adie, you must be exhausted,” she said. “They wear me out!”
“I’m doing very well,” the woman replied. “I feel useful. Needed. But I’ll be the first to admit, they’re quite a lot to manage in the tub. They like the tub.”
“Thank God for Martha!” Nora said. She tried not to let it show that she had a little trouble lifting the baby into her little stroller, but Adie wasn’t paying attention to that, thank goodness.
“You know what’s wonderful? How excited they are when I come to school to pick them up,” Adie said while Nora readied her children to go home. “The teachers say the girls do very well—they eat well and nap well and seem to love being there.”
Almost more important than the added income, her girls needed to be around loving adults and other children in a safe environment. “Is Ellie Kincaid there sometimes?” Nora asked.
“I see her every morning. I think she’s some kind of official sponsor of the day care and preschool,” Adie said. “She welcomes the children and makes a big fuss over them every day. I’m volunteering to help with milk and cookie time and watching over nap time.”
