Katy Stanton noticed the sign first. The, once bright, hand painted lettering, that read Burton’s Apple Orchard, had faded until it was nearly the color of the weathered wood on which it had been so carefully painted long ago. Katy frowned as she turned off onto the lane that led down to her family’s cider mill. As she drove, her frown deepened. The gravel was sparse from the washout rains that came every so often, and overgrown trees were hanging over the road too, low enough that their branches would surely scrape the tops of the suburban SUV’s full of visitors come to pick apples and pumpkins from the surrounding fields. And why hadn’t anyone picked up all of the trash that those same visitors had thrown out of their windows as they left, she wondered.

“The place is falling apart.” she mused as she drove past the parking lots, and turned off onto the small road leading behind a stand of trees to the farmhouse where she had grown up, and where her parents still lived. She flipped her visor up, pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head, and stared forlornly at the house. It, too, looked worn down and just this side of derelict.

As she got out of the car, the front door flew open and her mom, Elsa, stepped out onto the front porch, “Katy, you’re here!”

“Hey, Mom,” Katy greeted her, “Just let me get my bags first.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear,” Elsa said, as she walked over to the top of the stairs, “Your father can get them later.”

Katy’s frown appeared once more, this time because she noticed the slow, careful steps that her mother was taking, and the hand that reached out to clutch the railing for support. When had she gotten so frail?

With her heart feeling heavy, Katy climbed the steps and reached out to engulf her mom in a hug, feeling like she might break her, and rattled by the realization that she had to concern herself with such things.

“It’s so good to see you, Katy,” her mother stepped back, “Now, let me look at you.”

“Mom, it hasn’t been that long.” Katy protested with a laugh.

“It’s been six years,” Katy’s father, Chester, said from the doorway, “Six years since we’ve seen you in person.”

“It hasn’t been six years,” she argued, even as she realized that it might well have been, “And if it has, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, sweetheart,” Chester wrapped her in a great big bear hug, “We’re just glad you made it back to see us old folks.”

Katy felt his arms around her, strong still, but not as strong as she remembered. She relaxed a little into his embrace, allowing herself to feel like a little girl again, if only for a moment.

“Come in, come in,” Elsa tugged at Katy’s sleeve, “I’ve made your favorite…”

“Chicken noodle soup?”

“Of course.”

“With cheesy garlic biscuits?”

“I wouldn’t dream of not making them.”

As soon as she entered the house, the warm, homey smells assaulted her senses, dragging her back through time. Katy felt dizzy with memories as she took a look around. It was clear that her parents had let a lot of little things slide, like the carpet stairs that needed torn up and replaced, and the walls that needed a good scrubbing, or, more likely, a fresh coat of paint.

“Chester, go get the luggage out of the car, dear.” Elsa instructed him, as she started for the kitchen, her movements mincing.

“Mom, what’s up?” Katy stepped up along side of her, offering her arm for assistance.

Elsa clutched it, “Oh, it’s nothing, just my back acting up again.”

“Have you been to the doctor?”

Elsa snorted, “Who needs em. They just want to run tests and more tests. Costs an arm and a leg and no relief at the end. I’m fine. Just slower is all.”

“It couldn’t hurt to get it checked out.” Katy said, as she and her mother entered the kitchen. She spotted the pot simmering on the stove and her stomach growled.

Elsa let go of her arm and stepped over to the stove. She gave the pot a stir, sending the carrots, celery, and big shreds of chicken bouncing in the broth. When she was satisfied with that task, she reached up and grabbed a big stoneware bowl and the flour cannister.

Katy watched, fascinated, as her mother swiftly and deftly mixed up biscuit dough. She knew that she would never be able to replicate them, or any of the other amazing recipes that her mother made, and it brought the frown back.

“Mom, honestly, how have things been? The place is looking kind of run down.”

“Like I said, things are fine.” her mother’s voice had a bit of a snap to it. When Katy had been little, the snap held a warning, one that she had abided by, but not now. Now she was grown.

She settled her hands on her mom’s shoulders, “I can help. Whatever you need, I can help with.”

A clatter arose in the living room as her father brought the luggage in and the moment was lost as Katy ran to help him.

“Dad, don’t worry about carrying those up the stairs,” she insisted, as she pried one of the suitcases out of his grasp, “I’ll get them.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking a few suitcases up the stairs, young lady.” Chester insisted, even as he grunted in pain as he started climbing the stairs.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to demand that he put the luggage down, but she also knew that it would hurt his pride, and she figured she’d hurt him enough already. And her mother, too. Why had she stayed away so long, Katy asked herself, as she followed her father up the stairs. What had been so important back in the city that she hadn’t managed to find the time to come back to see them? Ryan, her son, had left the nest nearly seven years ago, her business was humming along, and had been for years, and her marriage to Henry was alive and well. A sharp jolt of regret rose up in her chest as she confronted the truth. She felt like the worst daughter on the face of the planet.

They stepped into her childhood bedroom. It looked exactly the same as it had on her wedding day, and that had been nearly thirty years ago.

Her father sat down on her bed, breathing hard.

“You okay, Dad?” Katy placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sure. Sure. Just catching my breath, Katydid.”

Katy nodded, fighting to keep the increasing anxiety from appearing on her face. She wandered around the room, running her fingers across the row of books in her bookcase, their youthful titles bringing a smile to her face, and picking up a stuffed bear that had been a beloved companion long ago.

“It sure is nice to see you back in this room, sweetheart.”

Katy turned around, “It’s good to be back in this room, Dad.”

“Must be bringing back a lot of memories, huh?”

“You have no idea,” she smiled, “I thought you guys would have changed it by now.”

Chester snorted, “And why would we do that when it’s perfect just the way it is,” he patted the bed, “Come. Sit down and visit awhile.”

Katy put the bear back on the dresser and went over to sit next to him.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re worried about us, Katydid…”

“Dad, I…”

“None of that, now,” he gave her a stern look, one that she’d seen often in her teen years, “You don’t have anything to worry about, so you can stop that right now. Your mother and I are doing fine. We’re a little slower, but we still get things done.”

Katy sighed, weighing her words before she spoke, “I was just thinking the place is looking a little rough around the edges, is all,” she reached for his hand, “Henry and I could help. He could take a little time off and come down. We could fix up some things, get it back in tiptop shape…”

“That’s not necessary, Katydid…”

“Dad, let us help. We want to. We should have done it a long time ago, actually.”

“We won’t have it,” he shook his head vehemently, “You have your own lives back home, and, well, honestly, Henry has never been the handyman type, if I remember correctly.”

Katy chuckled along with him. He wasn’t wrong.

“Dinner’s done.” Elsa’s voice carried faintly up the stairs.

“Come on. Best get down there before she throws it all out.” he said with a wink.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Two weeks. Two weeks of back breaking work, Katy mused, as she placed the last jar of homemade apple butter on the shelf and stepped back to admire the fruits of her labor. Rows of mahogany apple butter, orange pumpkin butter, and yellow applesauce echoed the fall colors that filled the barn store.

“Hey, that looks pretty good, Ms. Stanton.” Emma Abbott stepped down off the ladder and smiled approvingly.

“Katy. Just call me Katy. And thanks. It doesn’t look half bad, does it?”

“Did you help Mrs. B make all of this?”

Katy snorted, “Sure I did,” she said, teasingly, and then, more seriously, “No. I guess I should have…”

“Well, Mrs. B likes to do things in a certain way, so…”

Smiling, Katy said, “She does, doesn’t she?”

“I’m off to check on Andy,” Emma folded up the ladder and tucked it beneath her arm, “Hopefully he’s got the parking lot sorted. It was a mess last year, but he and Mr. B worked out a new system, supposedly.”

“Andy, he’s your husband?”

“He is. Ten years and three kids later, and we’re still hanging in there.”

“You know, I forgot to ask, how long have you both worked here at the apple orchard?”

“Oh, we don’t work here. We just volunteer. We love this place. Been coming here since we were both kids.”

Katy was taken aback; why would someone spend their weekends volunteering out here?

A little boy came running into the barn and wrapped his arms around Emma’s leg, as he peered shyly up at Katy through lashes that would have made a super model jealous.

“Kyle, what are you doing here?” Emma pulled him away from her leg, gently, “This is Mrs. B’s daughter, Katy. Say hello.”

“Hullo.” Kyle whispered as he stared down at his shoes.

“Hello,” Katy knelt down in front of him and smiled, “It’s very nice to meet you, Kyle. How old are you?”

“This many.” he held out his tiny hand with his thumb holding down his pinky.

A man rushed into the barn. Another boy, this one a little older, was holding his hand, and a little girl, maybe close to two, was tucked in his arm.

“Kyle, I told you not to run ahead,” he dropped a quick kiss on Emma’s lips, handed the little girl off to her mother, and then nodded politely in Katy’s direction, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Andy, this is Katy, Mr. and Mrs. B’s daughter. She’s here helping out this year.”

“Actually, I, uhm, I’m, well, I’m leaving tomorrow,” Katy said, sheepishly. It seemed irritatingly pitiful to her that these two were volunteering to be here, working at her family’s business, and she couldn’t even manage to stay until pumpkin season was over, “I, uhm, I have to get back to work, so…”

Andy reached out and shook Katy’s hand, “Andy Abbott, Emma’s husband.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Your parents talk about you all the time,” he turned to his wife, “Don’t they, Emma?”

Emma nodded as she sat the ladder down and shifted her daughter to her other hip, “Mrs. B and I always load your store’s web page up and look through all the pretty things, and ooh and ahh over all of it whenever it gets slow in here.”

“Yeah, it looks like a ton of work keeping a place like that running,” Andy said, pulling Kyle away from the shelves of glass jars, “But you don’t have anything to worry about here. Emma and I’ll be here every single weekend helping out.”

“That’s good,” Katy shoved the shame down, even as she knew that it was just a temporary measure, “That’s a big help, for sure. I appreciate it so much. I really do.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

“The phone’s for you.” Bellamy tossed the phone.

Katy caught it and mouthed, “Who?”

Bellamy shrugged, smoothed his hands over his perfectly coiffed hair, admired himself in the mirror, and sauntered back out into the store.

“Hello?” Katy spoke into the phone, as she moved the inventory lists over to the stack of other papers she needed to tackle.

“Mrs. Stanton?”

“Yes. This is Katy Stanton.” Katy’s back straightened. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt alarmed.

“This is Emma Abbott. I don’t know if you remem…”

“Of course,” Katy stammered, even more alarmed than she had been just a second before, “Of course I remember you. Is…is something the matter?”

“I…I didn’t want to alarm you. I’ve been up all night trying to figure out if I should even call you, and, well there isn’t any easy way to say this, but I think you need to come home…”

Katy closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, “Tell me why?” she squeaked into the phone.

“I think your parents aren’t doing so well.”

**********************************************************************************************************************

Katy stepped out onto the porch. A blast of cold wind made her pull her coat closer, and another made her shove her hands into her pockets. It was much, much warmer in the house, but she couldn’t be in there another minute longer. There were mourners in the living room, in the kitchen, in practically every room in the house, so there was nowhere to go, nowhere to think, and no way to get away from the maddening grief that was almost unbearable in its strength.

It was late January. She’d been back for what? A month and a half now? She couldn’t wrap her brain around losing both of her parents in such a short amount of time. She felt disoriented and off center, and certainly not up to the task of dealing with all of the strangers that were in the house, all looking at her with sorrowful eyes. She’d had no idea that her parents had been so loved by the community. She’d had no idea. And that made her feel even more pathetic and unworthy of their collective sorrow. Why did they feel sorry for her? She clearly didn’t deserve it. She’d moved away from this place. She’d wanted nothing to do with it. She’d wanted the city life. Craved it like a drug. And even after she’d gotten away, she’d stayed away for far too long, always figuring she would get home to catch up with her parents eventually. She had, of course, here and there, but not enough. Not nearly enough. She would regret it for the rest of her days.

“Hey, I thought I’d find you out here,” Andy stepped out on the porch, his hand clutching his coat up against his throat as another icy gale blew in, “How are you holding up?”

Katy shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood for idle chit chat, and hoped her reticence would drive him back inside.

Andy didn’t appear to notice because he took a seat in the swing and patted the empty space beside him, “Take a load off.”

Reluctantly, she did so. She glanced at him, “What is it that you want to talk about?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed a bit overwhelmed. No judgement. Really. Completely understandable. I, well, actually, Emma and I, we wanted to offer any help that we can.”

“You’ve both done so much. I couldn’t think of asking for more.”

“Have you thought about what you are going to do with the orchard?”

“No, I haven’t. I imagine I’ll need to figure it out at some point, but not now.” Katy’s face felt flushed as tears started building in her eyes. She stood up, not wanting to cry in front of him, “It’s too cold out here. I think I’ll go back inside.”

Andy stood up too, “Sure. Good idea, but, hey, like I said, Emma and I mean it when I say that we’re here to help with whatever you need. We loved your parents. They were good people.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Katy opened the door and stepped inside. She spotted her husband and son looking overwhelmed and awkward as they struggled to converse with people they barely even knew. With a small inward sigh, she went to join them.

**************************************************************************************************************************

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Katy, are you out of your mind?” Henry stirred the pasta with more vigor than was necessary.

“I realize that this is a bit crazy, yes.”

Henry put the pasta spoon down and reached for her, pulling her into his arms, “Sweetheart, crazy is not strong enough of a word,” he lifted her chin, “Look at me.”

Katy allowed her eyes to travel up until they met his.

“You’ve recently lost both of your parents one after the other. I think anyone would agree that you have been through enough stress to make your thoughts pretty jumbled.”

“No, Henry,” Katy stepped out of his arms, “My thoughts aren’t jumbled. If anything, they’re more stable than ever. I want to do this, and I need your support.”

Henry turned back to the stove, “Fine. You have my support. Go be a farmer, and when you come to your senses, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

The bathroom was steamy from the heat rising up from the bath that Katy had drawn. She groaned as she slid down into the water, partly from pleasure, but also agony. Her muscles were screaming from the heavy use they’d seen during the past several months. Working behind a desk had certainly not prepared her for the type of labor that the orchard required. She’d tested soil, tilled fields, sowed seeds, pruned trees, fixed machinery, and otherwise did everything that she knew nothing about, to the very best of her ability, and she was exhausted, and, honestly, also a bit over it all.

Another pained groan slid from deep in her throat as she lifted her aching arm to grab the shampoo bottle to squirt a dab into her palm. Washing her hair was a painful endeavor, but she managed it, as she wistfully remembered hair appointments, manicures, and massages back in the city.

“What I wouldn’t give…” she whispered, into the steamy room.

But, in spite of her exhaustion, she was proud of all the work she’d done, and she knew that her parents would have been proud, too. She finished her bath, toweled off, and threw on her pajamas before wandering down to the kitchen. Looking through the fridge, she settled on making a grilled cheese. She ate while standing at the window, staring out at the fields freshly planted with pumpkin seeds. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time to call Henry. Katy went back into the kitchen and grabbed the half empty pint of ooey gooey butter cake ice cream from the freezer to take up to her bedroom with her. It was a ritual, after all, and rituals needed tended or else they wouldn’t be rituals, now would they, she reasoned.

As the delicious, sweet cream melted on her delighted tongue, Katy dialed her home phone and waited for her husband to pick up.

“Mom?” Ryan, her son, spoke into the phone.

“Ryan?” Katy was surprised, “I didn’t know you were home!”

“Yeah, Dad’s been kind of lonely, so I dropped over for dinner. He promised me some killer pad thai, so he’s actually chopping the shallots right now. Want me to put you on speaker phone?”

“Sure.” Katy scowled, as a jolt of guilt shot through her.

“Hey, honey,” Henry said, “I sure miss my sous-chef right about now.”

“And I miss your pad thai,” Katy leaned forlornly back against her pillow, “And the both of you, too.”

“Mom, when are you coming home?” Ryan asked her.

Katy sighed. A powerful longing for home was welling up inside of her, making her wish to be back there, in her kitchen, cooking and laughing with her husband and son.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Katy dropped her spoon into the ice cream and sat it on the side table beside her bed, “And I don’t know, Ryan. There’s a lot to do still.”

“Mom, you’re not a farmer.”

“Ryan, that’s enough.” Katy heard Henry say.

“Maybe you guys could come out for the weekend. We’re planning on putting up some big displays this year and we could use all the help we could get.”

“Who’s we?” Ryan wanted to know.

“Oh, maybe I didn’t mention Andy and Emma Abbott. They volunteer. You know, help out around the place.”

“Weird.”

“It’s not weird, Ryan,” Katy said, slightly annoyed with his attitude, “They’re good people…”

“Yeah, but who volunteers at an apple orchard when they could be doing other stuff.”

“Ryan, some people actually enjoy getting outside, getting their hands dirty. It’s… it’s refreshing.”

“Uh huh.”

“At least consider coming, just for a weekend. It would be good for you, and your father. You used to love coming here.”

“Mom, that was when I was a little kid, and besides, that was when grandma and grandpa were…” he stopped talking, his words hanging sadly in the air.

“We’ll come,” Henry suddenly said, “We’ll come for the weekend.”

“You will?” Katy felt lighter all of a sudden. It would be good to see them, “That’s wonderful.”

“Fine,” Ryan sighed, “I guess I’ll come, but only cause I miss you, Mom.”

“I miss you, too, and your father,” Katy smiled, “See you both soon.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

“How’s it going? Almost done?” Katy asked Ryan.

Ryan turned the jigsaw off and sat it down. He wiped the sweat from his brow, “It’s done, I guess.”

Katy stepped up and examined his work, “It looks like a pumpkin to me. Good job.”

“Thanks. What are you doing with it now?”

“Well, we’ll add some supports behind it so it will stand upright, and then we’ll paint it, and eventually it will go over by the corn maze with some others that you’ll cut out for me.” Katy answered, with a wink.

“You mean I’m not done?” Ryan’s face fell.

Katy looked up at the sky, “I’d say you’ve got about six hours until sundown, so yeah, you’re not done.”

As she moved off towards the apple orchard, Katy heard his disagreeable grumbling and she felt a tug of guilt, but not enough to turn around and tell him to stop; she needed his help too much to do that. It was insane the amount of work the place needed, but she was determined to get it in tip-top shape this season.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, after a dinner of cold sandwiches and chips because all of them had been too exhausted to cook anything, Katy, Henry, and Ryan sat around the kitchen table, talking unenergetically.

Ryan dropped his head onto the table, “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life.”

“I second that.” Henry agreed.

“I actually think I might be getting used to it, believe it or not,” Katy said, “But I’ve been at it longer.”

Ryan sat back up, “Mom, how long do you plan on doing this?”

Taken aback by his directness, Katy sputtered, “Until it’s done, I guess.”

“Done? When is it done? Getting it ready for the apple harvest? Or is it done after pumpkin season? But then there’s the holiday season, right? I mean, grandma and grandpa had those sleigh rides out in the fields, didn’t they? So, when the hell is done, Mom?”

“Ryan, I think that’s enough.” Henry growled.

Hurt, Katy shook her head, “No, no it’s alright, Henry. Clearly, Ryan has a problem with what I’m trying to do here.”

“Mom, I just don’t understand what’s going on,” Ryan swept his arm around the farmhouse kitchen, with its yellowing wallpaper and fraying curtains, “You’ve never once shown any interest in this place before, so what gives?”

“What gives, Ryan, is that I owe it to your grandparents to do this. I owe it to them.” Katy exclaimed, more forcefully than she’d intended.

“Fine. If that’s what you want to do then go ahead, but one question,” Ryan leaned forward, making sure that he had her attention, “What about your life back home, and me and dad? What about us?”

“Ryan, this is ridiculous,” Katy argued. She felt flushed and singled out, forced to defend her decisions when she wasn’t ready, “This has nothing to do with any of that…”

“I beg to differ.” Henry interjected.

Katy whirled her head around in surprise. She hadn’t expected that from him, “What do you mean by that?” she fired off.

“I think what your son has been asking you is if you ever plan on coming back home.” Henry asked with a small, sad smile.

“Yes,” she insisted, “Yes, of course I am. As soon as I finish up here.”

“You’re never going to finish up here, though.” Ryan pushed back his chair, stood up, and started walking away.

“Ryan, wait…”

“Let him go,” Henry reached for her hand across the table, “He’s just tired. A hot shower and a good night of sleep will sort him out.”

Katy nodded. She was tired too. They all were. It had been a long day. But his words lingered throughout the rest of the night, keeping her up even as her exhausted body begged for sleep. He wasn’t wrong. The work here on the farm wasn’t ever going to be finished. As she finally drifted into an unrestful sleep, Katy came to the conclusion that she couldn’t really answer her son’s question, and that made her uneasy, to say the least.

The next evening, after Ryan and Henry had left for the city, Katy busied herself with taking the old curtains down in the kitchen. The goodbyes hadn’t gone well, but that was mainly because of her own feelings of remorse at sending them back while she stayed put. She could see it in their eyes, all the questions that she didn’t have answers for, but she just smiled through the, I love you and I’ll see you soon’s, and pretended that everything was great.

She kept that head buried in the sand thing going for the rest of the summer, and into the early fall. It helped that she was too damn busy to even think straight most days, and every night, she was too tired to think at all. On the plus side, Burton’s Apple Orchard was in the best shape it had been in in years and years. The barns had all been painted a crisp apple red, the fences were all newly repaired, the corn maze was standing tall, and the fields were abundant with pumpkins. She’d even developed, with Emma Abbott’s considerable help, a new recipe for pumpkin butter, and an apple jam that was the bomb, if she did say so herself.

At the moment, she was standing at the counter, stirring a batch of that jam while Emma placed newly designed stickers on the rows of filled and capped jars that were ready for the shelves out in the barn store.

“You know, I was thinking maybe this jam would be good in a cobbler,” Katy sat the spoon down and glanced at Emma, “What do you think?”

“Yeah, maybe we could stir it in with the apples. We should try it.” Emma agreed.

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of apples, so I guess we could after I finish this last batch.”

Katy and Emma finished up the canning and then went to work on dicing up a bunch of tart, crisp apples. When they were done, Emma tossed the apples in a jar of the jam while Katy dug her mother’s old, handwritten recipe book out of a drawer and searched for a crumble recipe.

“Hah, I found it,” She cried, as she thumped the page, “I knew I remembered my mom making fruit crumble. I loved, loved, loved the topping. In fact, I used to just eat the topping without the fruit because it was so good.”

“Well, whip up a batch and let’s try it.” Emma went to preheat the oven while Katy mixed it up.

When they were ready, Emma poured the apples in a buttered 9 x 13, and Katy used her fingers to drop the topping over them. They popped the dish into the oven and decided a cup of tea and a sit down sounded like a fine idea.

As they sat and sipped on their tea, the kitchen slowly began to smell like cinnamon, and sugar, baked apples, and butter.

Katy’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“I heard that.” Emma smiled.

“It must be about done because I can smell it,” Katy stood up and went to the stove. She opened the oven door and peaked inside. The topping was a deep golden brown, “Ooh, it’s done,” she exclaimed. She grabbed her oven mitt and eagerly pulled the dish out. The fruit bubbled up between the crispy, flaky topping and the indescribably delicious smell nearly brought her to her knees, “If this tastes as good as it smells, Emma, I’m going to have a hard time not eating the entire thing.” she declared.

“Ha, you’re going to have to fight me for it.” Emma laughed.

They waited as long as they could for the crumble to cool, before serving themselves big scoops and digging in. It was good. Really, really good. They moaned and groaned in pleasure as the warm, cinnamon spiced fruit mingled with the sweet, buttery topping.

“Hey, are we interrupting a special moment here?” Andy asked with a wink, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Babe, you have got to try this apple crumble that Katy came up with,” Emma stood up to grab another bowl, “It’s amazing.”

“Where’s Kyle and your older son?” Katy asked, as she smiled at the little girl that was in her father’s arms.

“Oh, Andy Jr. is in school.” Andy said.

“First grade,” Emma handed him the bowl of crumble and took her daughter out of his hands so he could eat, “And Kyle is in preschool now, so it’s just Keira with us during the day now.”

“Oh, I guess I hadn’t realized, but it’s Monday, isn’t it?” Katy’s expression registered her shock, “I am so sorry. I know I asked you both to come in today to help me, and I didn’t even think about you’re having to go to your actual jobs! Oh, I feel just awful.”

“No, hey, no. Look, it’s fine. We both know it’s a big job, getting ready for your first real pumpkin season,” Andy hurried to say, “We had a little time we could take off, and we both decided to use a day of it to help out. No big deal, and, honestly, I’d rather be here than crunching numbers all day.”

“Oh, so you’re an accountant?” Katy asked, feeling horrendous that she’d never thought to ask what the Abbott’s did when they weren’t volunteering at the orchard.

“At the investment firm in town.”

“Ah,” Katy looked at Emma, “And you, Emma, where do you work?”

“I’m a pediatric nurse over at the clinic.”

Katy sat back, “Wow. I mean, I had no idea.”

“It’s no big deal,” Andy said, as he dug into his crumble, “Trust me when I say that this is our happy place,” he took a bite and moaned in delight, “Oh, man, this is good.”

“He’s right, you know,” Emma took a portion of the crumble and offered it to Keira, “This place is where we come alive. You like that, don’t you, Keira?”

“Well then, in that case, I suppose I don’t feel as bad.” Katy did, though. She had taken to relying heavily on the Abbotts’ joyful willingness and expertise as she’d set about putting the mill to rights, and she’d never once given a thought to how she might be taking advantage of them. Now, it was up to her to make amends, if she could.

“You’re frowning.” Emma touched Katy’s sleeve.

“Oh, sorry,” Katy shook her head, shaking herself from her regretful revery, “I was just off in my own mind.”

“You should include this recipe with every jar of apple jam, honestly, cause it’s awesome.” Andy declared, as he finished his bowl with gusto.

Emma glanced at Katy, “I guess we could.”

“I think we should,” Katy said, decisively, “Let’s do it.”

*********************************************************************************************************************

Two weeks later, Katy stepped outside the bustling barn. She sidestepped a tousle haired little boy that was chasing after his older sister, stopped to greet several groups of customers, and finally ducked around the corner of the barn that had been cordoned off, with a sigh of relief.

The place was hopping, and it had been like that every single day since they’d opened up for the season. It had been almost impossible to find a minute alone, and that was why she’d found this hiding spot. She settled down between two bales of hay, hidden from the people who were wandering over towards the pumpkin fields, and leaned her head back against the building.

It had been unbelievable how busy it had been. Burton’s Cider Mill was back as a favorite fall destination for the surrounding area, and Katy was proud that her hard work had made it possible. She only wished that her parents had been here to see it. She knew that they would have loved to have seen the place restored to its former glory.

Henry and Ryan had surrendered to her pleas and had come to the opening weekend. A part of her had hoped that seeing how successful it was would have made them see why she had put all the effort in, and they had been proud of her accomplishments, but it hadn’t made them stay.

Every night since, she’d been puttering around the house, allowing the memories, good and bad, to come back to her, unrestricted. And several nights ago, one of those memories had given her pause. She’d been probably sixteen, maybe seventeen, she’d remembered, when she’d first become aware that she’d wanted to go away to college, and, after college, she’d wanted to live in a big city somewhere. That realization had been her first real awareness that she wanted something different than her parents. That she hadn’t wanted to live on a farm on the outskirts of a small town. That she hadn’t wanted the life they had intended for her. She had been terrified to broach the subject with them. Of course, she had. It had been the first time that she’d stood up and proclaimed herself to anyone, let alone them. Her parents had taken the news admirably. In fact, they had encouraged her to work extra hard in school so that she could get into the college of her choosing, and, when she had done just that, they had watched her pack up and leave it all behind, including them, and they’d never once not given her their complete encouragement and support. They had wanted her to chase her dreams. Her dreams. Not theirs.

A fat farm cat stretched lazily on a bale of hay, enjoying the warmth of the mid-October sunshine. Katy smiled contentedly. She knew, and had actually known for a few days now, what she was supposed to do. The answer had been easy to see. She just didn’t know why she had been fighting against it. She had never wanted this life. Neither had her husband or son. It wasn’t what they had chosen, and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Her parents had understood that, and she was forever grateful to them because of it.

Katy stood up. She slipped around the side of the barn again and ducked under the rope. She stopped to chat with happy people holding pumpkins, and caramel apples. She let her eyes wander until they found one of the people she’d been looking for.

“I’m so happy to hear that you’re enjoying your day here, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go talk to someone.” Katy told the group of visitors, as she hurried over to Emma, who was watching her son, Andy Jr., carefully hand a bag of kettle corn to a customer. She waited until the group left and then she said, “Emma, would you, Andy, and the children mind meeting me up at the house after we close?”

“Sure,” Emma frowned, worriedly, “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Katy smiled, “In fact, everything is perfect. Just perfect.”

**********************************************************************************************************************

“Come on in,” Katy ushered Emma, Andy, and their children inside of the farmhouse, “I promise I won’t keep you guys long. I know it’s been a long day.”

“It’s been an amazing day, hasn’t it, kids?” Emma asked her brood.

“The best day!” Andy Jr., crowed, as he spun round and round, “Every day we get to come here is the best day.”

“Really?” Katy asked him, as her heart leapt in joy, “You really, really like it here?”

“I love it!” he shouted, enthusiastically.

“Well, in that case, you are going to be very, very happy to see something that I’ve been working on. Come on, it’s in the kitchen.”

Emma and Andy shared a questioning look, but they followed behind, as Katy led the way. There was something big and rectangular on the kitchen table, and it was covered with a sheet.

“What in the world is that?” Emma asked, as she shifted Keira to her other hip, “Did you come up with another sign?”

“I have,” Katy reached for the cloth, “It’s something I’ve been working on these past few evenings.” She pulled the sheet off revealing the large sign, hand painted with the words, “Welcome to Abbott’s Cider Mill and Pumpkin Patch.”

She watched them read the words, and then watched their expressions as they tried to make sense of it.

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “Katy, what… what is this?”

“Well, I hope it’s your new sign. If you don’t care for it, I won’t mind if you get a new one.”

“But, but…”

“Wait,” Andy suddenly seemed to find his voice, “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“It does,” Katy nodded, “I’m giving you two the cider mill, and everything that comes with it, including this house. If you’ll have it, that is.”

“Oh, my word!” Emma started bouncing excitedly as she clutched her husband’s arm. Andy Jr. and Kyle were running around the kitchen screeching wildly.

“Wow!” Andy Sr. stood clutching his chest like he was about to have a heart attack, “Just, wow!”

“Katy, are you sure?” Emma’s eyes were suddenly serious, “I mean, this place is your history, and your parents wanted to pass it down to you and your family.”

“See, I thought that too, at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my parents wanted me to live the life that I chose, and honestly this isn’t it. I mean, I love it here, I do, don’t get me wrong. There are so many memories, but this place was their dream. And it’s your dream too. I can see that in every single thing that you both do when you’re here, and this place should go to someone who will respect it, and love it, the way my parents did. They would want that. I know they would. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize it.” Katy admitted.

“It’s always been our dream,” Emma looked up at her husband, “I think we should accept Katy’s generous offer. How about you?”

“How could I say no?” Andy grinned as he reached out and pulled Katy into his and Emma’s arms for a warm hug.

Katy felt the enormous gratitude that was in their hug, but she hoped they felt her gratitude as well. This farm, the fields and the house, the barns and the orchard, deserved a family like theirs. It was the land that would reap the rewards of a family that would love it well, just as her parents had.

She sniffled a little and wiped a tear as she stepped back, “One caveat, though.”

“Anything.” Emma and Andy said in unison.

“I get to come back and see it every now and again. Is that alright?”

“Absolutely. And maybe someday you’ll bring your grandkids too. We’d love that.” Emma told her.

“You know, I think I’d love that too,” Katy said, surprising herself, as an image of her and Henry walking through the pumpkin fields with a little one clutching both of their hands, slid into her mind, “Yeah, I know I would,” she clapped her hands, “Okay, now that that’s sorted, who wants some cocoa and cookies?”

The kids screamed in delight and Katy smiled.