Love's Harvest, page 9
part #1 of A Salmon Run Novel Series
Feeling as though she’d once again been waxed into a corner, Julia reasoned that she but one choice—to seek help outside her family, especially since it was her very family who seemed determined to see her fail. The first rays of the morning sun filtered into her office as she picked up the phone to dial the sheriff’s office.
“Whatcom County Sheriff Department, Abigail van Buskirk speaking.” Abigail was the daughter of Barbara’s minister, Arjan van Buskirk, at the well-attended New Dutch Reformed Church in Salmon Run.
“Hey, Abbie. This is Julia Reynolds. Is Barbara in?”
“Oh, hi Julia. How are you doing?”
“Well, thank you Abbie. And yourself?”
“Pretty good. Mom needs quite a bit more care now, but Dad and Jacob are taking up the slack while I answer the phones here for Barb. The Parkinson’s diagnosis knocked all of us for a loop, but at least now we know what’s been going on with Mom these last few years.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Abby. Your mom’s one of my favorite people.” Unlike most of the citizens of Salmon Run, Hennie was one of the few who played the piano with what Julia considered a superb technique and sense of musicianship.
Not only did Julia enjoy her company as a fellow pianist, but Hennie had always gone out of her way to be extra kind to her, which couldn’t be said for everyone in Salmon Run. After all, Julia was a foreigner, transplanted from the San Francisco Bay area when she married Robert.
Julia heard Abigail take in a deep breath. “Thanks, Julia. That means so much to me and my family.”
Julia was amazed by the strength she heard in the woman’s voice. “Hold tight while I get Barb on the phone.”
During the silence Julia thought about Robert’s father and his own struggle with Alzheimer’s. It seemed to her as if Harold “Buck” Reynolds was sinking rapidly with each passing day into the dark void of forgetfulness.
Most days he thought he still worked at the winery. Whenever she visited the care facility, Buck confused her with Mavis, his deceased wife. According to Robert, his father had always been somewhat forgetful, which over the years had been the impetus for many family jokes and stories about his inability to remember even the most basic of things. Like where he parked his car, or the names of his children.
He’d go through the entire list of family members before finally settling on the phrase “whoever you are” and leave it at that. Buck and his family had easily laughed at his infirmity, but not anymore.
Buck was forever lost in a world where he no longer could reach anyone and no one could reach him. Ironically, it now seemed as though Hennie von Buskirk was likewise disappearing from a world she’d previously known.
Julia’s reverie was at last interrupted by Barbara’s voice on her phone. “Sheriff van Persie speaking.”
Julia smiled. “Good morning, Sheriff van Persie. This is Mrs. Reynolds speaking. I wondered if you might have a few minutes to give me some advice.”
“Now Julia,” Barb said conspiratorially, “you know I know that you know I have to sound somewhat professional, despite my stellar track record as a public servant. How else will I get people to do what I tell them?”
Barb’s humor and sarcasm were infectious. “How indeed, Sheriff!”
“So what do I owe this early morning phone call to? Having trouble finding the coffee pot, or the dish soap, or the keys to your Mercedes?”
Julia tried not to laugh. “Now, don’t be surly, you. I simply called because I need to speak about something which hasn’t left my brain since early this morning, and I don’t know who else to call.”
Barbara’s voice immediately took on a warmth and sweetness reminiscent of the afternoon she spent with Julia at the funeral service.
“You know you can call me anytime about anything that’s on your heart and mind, Julia. I may be the sheriff of this crazy and diverse county, but I’m also your friend. You know that!”
“I do know that. Thanks, Barb,” Julia answered. She hoped her next few words would hide all she was unwilling to convey.
She desperately needed information about the property deed but didn’t want to get James in trouble if it was at all possible. After all, he was family, and Gayle was the first friend she made when she moved to the area.
“The reason why I called is because it dawned on me that I don’t have my own copy of the deed for the vineyard and winery. I know James has one, but how do I get one of my own?”
Silence filled the moment, causing Julia to have second thoughts about asking for Barb’s help. She hated to deceive a friend, but sometimes family simply had to come first.
“Is this about James’s threats concerning Friday? Because if it is, you needn’t worry. My deputies and I will be there to make sure you and your workers come to no harm. You hear me?”
Julia was taken aback by the ferocity of Barbara’s response. “I know. It’s only that I think under the circumstances I should have the deed in my own hands when and if he shows up. Sometimes I simply don’t trust the guy, you know what I mean?”
Julia felt Barbara didn’t trust James as far as she could throw him either, but for now Julia didn’t want to spill the beans regarding Gayle’s morning phone call.
“Yes, I know exactly what you mean.” Barbara stood up and began to pace the floor, as she always did when strategizing a plan to assist her constituents.
“Look, let me check with Kaliope Papadakos at the County Property Assessment office. I’m sure a copy of the deed is on file. It’s going to kill me to ask that old crankster for a favor, but I’ll get her to make me a copy and bring it out to you later this morning. Will that work?”
“Thanks, Barb. I appreciate everything you do for me. You’re a good friend.”
“You’re welcome, Julia. I feel the same way about you.”
“And you’re not too bad of a sheriff either,” Julia teased.
Barbara joined her. “Now don’t you get smart with me, Miss Fancy Pants, or I’ll haul you down here and book you for harassing a police officer.”
“Silly you!” Julia smiled as she reached for her lukewarm coffee and took a sip. “See you later, Barb.”
As soon as Julia hung up, she strolled over to the little coffee bar near the retail store and washed out her cup. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, knowing full well it was going to take more than one or two cups of caffeine to get her through this day.
~
Once Gayle got up to make her phone call, she found she was far too upset to go back to bed. Instead she went into the kitchen to make her usual morning pot of white tea.
As she sat at the kitchen island waiting for her tea to steep, Gayle stared out the window at the first streaks of dawn. She thought about her marriage, her children, all the work she put into being the kind of wife she knew James desired, and the kind of the mother the children begged for.
Suddenly, she felt empty inside. Had all her efforts proven themselves for naught? Was this ultimately why she wanted to marry and have children—to lose herself in each one of their needs and demands?
Lately it seemed to her that she and James were merely going through the motions of being married—that their relationship was turning into a kind of business proposition rather than a meeting of true hearts and minds. No matter how much James made as a lawyer, it never was enough.
On top of that, the kids had become so used to getting everything they desired, they began to expect the newest and the best technology had to offer with no questions asked. If they didn’t get the newest tablet, or laptop, or cell phone, then they made sure Gayle was aware of their disappointment by making her the ogre.
Never in her born days had Gayle ever imagined that her life would be reduced to the almighty dollar, the proverbial bottom line. Even her focus of late had been less on the joys of friendship and self-contentment and more on making sure she got whatever was coming to her, no matter how it affected her relationships with others—and that included her family. Not once did she ever consider taking more than what she felt she was owed. Never ever did she even for a brief second entertain the idea of breaking the law.
Soon she heard the sounds of someone upstairs getting out of bed and heading toward the shower. Gayle knew it probably wasn’t her children—Jimmy, a know-it-all boy of thirteen and Bobbie, a skinny little girl of ten. After all, it was summer. These days were custom-made for sleeping in, playing outdoors all day until dusk, and just plain goofing around.
No, the noise came from James. Of all things, he was singing in the shower. James never sang in the shower, Gayle noted, and then said sarcastically to herself, “I guess breaking the law and stealing from your brother’s wife constitutes a reason to sing for joy, eh Mr. Reynolds?”
She knew the best thing for her and her family was to keep silent regarding James’s activities, but the madder she got, the more she felt James would be lucky if he could even keep his marriage together after she was done giving him a piece of her mind. Marriage was built on trust, Gayle believed, and now she realized she could never again trust James to do what was right toward Julia and the memory of his brother, let alone toward her and the children.
Gayle felt as if a huge boulder lodged in her gut. This wasn’t how she envisioned her life would turn out to be, but this situation with James was intolerable. How she could go from loving someone with all her heart to absolutely detesting his very presence was startling to her. Yet this was where she was at the moment. Unsure how she was going to handle the next few minutes put her mind into a tailspin.
Financially she knew she and the children would be fine, should she and James separate. In fact, she wasn’t even sure the kids would even notice, what with James working away from home all hours of the day and night and them with their heads in their cell phones, ear phones, and computer games.
What she did know was what she was feeling was unbearable. Something needed to be done and it needed to be done quickly.
While mulling these things in her mind, Gayle heard James bound down the stairs, humming one of his favorite nonsensical tunes. She prayed when he came into the kitchen he’d head straight for the refrigerator and not try to kiss her. Gayle wasn’t sure she could handle any attempt at affection on his part this morning.
“Good morning,” he chirped as he sailed over toward the Keurig machine. “And how’s my dear wife this bright and beautiful morning?”
Gayle lifted her head from staring at her tea. “I want a divorce,” she announced without skipping a beat.
~
Sheriff van Persie sensed something was up with Julia. For some reason, her friend wasn’t telling her everything she knew. This second-sense wasn’t unusual for Barb. Many of her friends treated her differently since she was voted in as sheriff. Yet Julia was usually more forthcoming than she was today.
Barbara suspected this must have something to do with James’s threats from the day before. Yet, why a copy of the deed, unless James was trying to disprove Julia’s right of ownership for some reason?
A million thoughts ran through her head, including the one which told her obtaining a copy of the deed wasn’t going to be as easy as she made out. Kaliope Papadakos was a force of nature and not one to do a person a favor unless she thought of it first.
It was now a few minutes after eight, time for Barbara to valiantly go forth and confront that dragon of a woman, all for a measly Xerox copy of the deed to the Nooksack Valley Winery and Vineyard. She knew Kaliope Papadakos came to work exactly fifteen minutes early every single day of her Monday through Friday work week. She was organized, punctual, and dedicated to her position at the property tax assessment office of Whatcom County.
After thirty years in real estate as a broker, and a successful one at that, Ms. Papadakos decided to slow down a bit and work a “regular” job with steady hours and benefits. That way she could do her real estate business on the side simply for fun and what she called “funny money.”
She’d no children, and for as many years as she lived in the county, no one suspected she’d ever been married. There were rumors, of course, that she’d waited years for a certain man to propose. But, he never did, leaving her to grieve all these years for what might’ve been.
Yet her grief didn’t take on the usual characteristics of sadness or depression, but rather of constant work and a brittleness which often appeared as rudeness. Downright meanness, to be exact. Whatever the reasons for Kaliope’s behavior, Barbara had to ask of her this favor. As soon as she strode into the woman’s office, however, Barb could tell things were not going to go her way.
~
It’d be awhile before the winery opened for the public, so Julia decided to play one of her favorite CDs. Ravel’s music always calmed her nerves and kept her focused on what was at hand. This morning she popped into the machine his Concerto in G with Leonard Slatkin and the St. Louis Symphonic Orchestra featuring Alicia de Larrocha at the piano.
The recording was over twenty years old. Nonetheless one of Julia’s favorites. She was especially fond of the Andalusian-influenced second movement with its haunting melodies against a rhythmic counterpoint. No one in her opinion could play it better than Señora de Larrocha.
With her second or third cup of coffee in her hand (who was counting anyway?), Julia returned to her office only to find three stone-faced individuals reverently standing shoulder to shoulder like statuary.
“Good morning, Señora Julia. We hope you slept well,” Rafael Pasqual said, more as a question than a statement.
“Yes, thanks, Rafael. And yourself?”
“We’re here this morning to speak with you, Julia, about this coming Friday,” Mariela said, interrupting their interchange.
“Diego, Rafa, and I met last night to talk, and we decided no matter what, we’ll stay here to help you keep the winery going. We’ve spoken to the other workers, and other than Joaquin, who said he’d help as well, we haven’t received an answer as to where they stand.”
Diego noticeably kept quiet, his straw hat in his hand.
“We have children, Señora, so we’ll not be carrying any firearms,” Rafa continued. “But we’ll make sure our voices are heard loud and clear. This is as much our land as it’s yours. Not by ownership, of course, but by the toil of our hands.
“We know every fence post, every vine, and every grape from one end of your property to the next. It has been our livelihood, but also our deepest pleasure to work this land for your husband and now for you.”
“That’s right,” said Mariela. “You stood up for all of us. The least we can do is stand up with you.”
Julia could feel tears well up in her eyes. “You three are like family to me, closer even, especially since my own family now appears to care much less than they should for what Robert and his father built.”
Julia took a step toward them. “These two men hoped and prayed the winery would continue as a legacy to the people of this valley. I always thought they meant their customers and fellow merchants, but now I realize they wanted the business to continue for you, the workers, as much as for anyone else. I feel the same way, too. The Nooksack Valley Winery and Vineyard is as much yours as it is mine.”
Tears at last flowed down her cheeks. Diego slowly walked toward her and handed her a clean, white handkerchief from the hip pocket of his pants. “Do not cry, Señora. The time for crying is over. Finished. We merely wanted you to know you’re not alone, for you’re as much a part of our family as we are of yours.”
Julia quickly blew her nose and then began to giggle. “I guess I must be, otherwise who else but family would allow me to repeatedly blow my nose into their clean linen!”
~
Rafael and Mariela drew her into a hug, but Diego stood back. As much as he wanted to hold her in his arms, something within let him know this was neither the time nor place. Besides, he wasn’t sure once Julia was in his arms he could hold himself back from ravaging her mouth or caressing her firm body. Perhaps Mariela was right. They were but two lonely people starving for any trace of human touch. Yet it was clear he felt something for this woman far deeper than mere desire for bodily contact. Whether or not he’d act on that feeling was yet to be seen.
The moment abruptly ended with the ringing of the office phone. “I better get that.”
As Julia crossed the room to her desk, Rafael, Mariela, and Diego took their leave. The last to reach her office door was Diego, who turned, smiled, and then nodded, reassuring her all would be fine—that he, his family, and his workers would stand by her side when Friday rolled around. Julia nodded back as she spoke into the phone.
~
“Nooksack Valley Winery, Julia Reynolds speaking.”
“Hey, Julia. It’s Barbara. It took some doing, but the old goat said she’d have that copy of the deed in your hand no later than this coming Friday morning. If I can get it out to you sooner, I will. Okay?”
“Thanks, Barb. I owe you one.”
“Actually, you owe me a lot more than just one.”
Julia laughed. “You’re right. What I meant to say was, I owe you one more time for the many favors you’ve done for me over this last year.”
Barbara laughed as well. “Oh, stop. What’re friends for if not to be run ragged doing favors!”
Julia’s voice then grew serious. “I mean it, Barb. I couldn’t face all this without you and your endless support.”
“I know,” affirmed the sheriff. “How well I know!”
Chapter 7
For the next couple of days, Diego purposefully stayed away from Julia. Partly because a great deal of work had to be attended to in both the vineyard and the bottling plant. Also because he didn’t feel he could trust his actions should he end up alone in her presence. The irony was that more he stayed away from Julia, the more she invaded his thoughts and dreams.
It was an incredibly hot summer for northern Washington that year, and the only recourse the workers had to beat the heat was to keep the doors and windows open as long as possible at night, and then during the daytime hours to close everything up.
