The Scent of Apple Tea

8. Kathryn

Kathryn

8

Summer insects buzzed and droned, slow, in the heat. The village children gathered around Flora. She sat on a fallen tree. The mothers waited under the shade of oaks and rowans, murmuring in the background. Some stood and watched; some sat, eating bread and cheese.

Flora chose a wooden dowel rod from the basket beside her and dipped it in a honey pot. She handed it, the end now smothered in golden food, to the closest child, who licked the dowel with a solemnity bordering on fervor. Flora repeated the act with great ceremony, a smile playing at her lips.

The sun warmed Flora’s uncovered head. She skillfully tucked a strand behind her ear with only her wrist, careful not to get honeyed fingers in her hair. She picked up another dowel, dipped, and handed the treat to the next child.

The mothers smiled in relief at this respite, the silence of sated children a boon to their normally hard days.

Flora wiped her hands on her apron. She lifted her eyes to Kathryn and nodded—her smile back.

When Flora first started visiting Kathryn in dreams—when Kathryn was a new mother—she’d had that same dream, once a week, for six months.

And the funny thing? Many years later, when Kathryn was feeling the effects of single parenting on a particularly difficult day, she drew on that dream. She remembered the nod, and that Flora had looked directly at her through the dream.

Once, when Heather was young, Kathryn had wiped her daughter’s crying eyes with a cooling washcloth and given her a spoonful of sticky honey from the hive in the backyard. Kathryn had reveled at the silence, tension melting from her shoulders. At the same time, she had felt the hair prickle at the back of her neck.

It was just like in the dream.

That was the day Kathryn had wondered if Flora was trying to communicate with her.

Saturdays were full of yumminess and good friends. Kathryn checked on the cobbler and made sure the tea water was hot. Sometimes she encouraged Heather to invite her friend Jill over, but ten o’clock on Saturday was mostly reserved for Tonya and Bailey.

Tonya’s husband, Doug, had passed in a car accident four years before, and since then, Kathryn had taken to inviting Tonya and Bailey over for brunch on Saturdays.

Kathryn removed the bacon strips from the paper towels they were draining on and transferred them to a pretty platter for the table. She’d wait until the guests got there before frying any eggs. Cold eggs were rubbery and gross.

She disliked purchasing disposable products like paper towels, preferring washable ones, but she made the exception for paper towels used solely for the purposes of draining bacon and cleaning up pet messes in the house—though sometimes toilet paper worked just as fine for those.

Bailey had just turned ten and loved the bunnies in the back so much that Kathryn graciously allowed her to play with them and clean out their cages and get them fresh food and water after breakfast on Saturdays.

All the grown-ups were as equally satisfied with this arrangement as Bailey was.

The knock at the door sent Janet barking like the guard dog she thought she was.

“Get out of the way, furball,” Kathryn said. She used her foot to gently move Janet out of the path and opened the door. Janet jumped and wagged and danced in front of Bailey, who fell to the floor cooing and petting, much to Janet’s delight.

“I never know what to bring you, Kathryn. I can’t bring flowers or food or wine or tea. You have it all already. I can’t even knit you anything, since you’re the one who taught me.” Tonya laughed and handed Kathryn a chocolate bar. “You don’t make these, do you?”

“No. And this is a perfect gift. Thank you.” Kathryn chuckled and walked backwards to let Tonya pass her.

“And guess what, Bailey?” Kathryn asked, while stashing the chocolate bar in a cupboard near the stove.

Bailey looked up from her doggie giggle fest. “What?”

“We have some new babies outside...” Kathryn left the surprise hanging in the air.

Bailey scrambled to her feet and jumped up and down in place.

“Bunnies? More bunnies?”

“No.” Kathryn smiled secretly. “I was going to wait until after breakfast, but seeing that you’re not able to wait that long…” Kathryn looked up at Heather, who’d just walked in the room. “Heather, could you show Bailey our new tenants?”

Heather smiled and the two tromped outside in pretty floral skirts, the sun surprising them that day.

“What are they?” Tonya asked Kathryn. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat at the table.

“Ducks.” Kathryn smiled and turned on the burner for the frying pan.

“Ducks? Babies this late in the year?”

“Spring is the normal time for chicks and ducklings, but there’s a reputable breeder online that does mallards all year long. Well, into the autumn anyway.”

“Doug’s brother lives on a farm in Montana and loves his ducks. He’s a farmer through and through and believes all animals on a farm are for either working or eating. But his ducks are his babies.”

“I’ve read that they live a long time, get depressed if left alone, and make a lot of messes. Just what I need, but—you know how I love chaos.”

Tonya laughed.

“You must, because it follows you everywhere.”

Kathryn turned the eggs over and shut the burner off.

“I suppose it’s not really chaos, just busyness,” Kathryn said. “I wanted to try them, but the thought of learning how to adjust to ducks and bonding with them in the spring when I’m doing all the planting and such was just too much. Even I’m not that stupid.”

“Not stupid. Just a glutton for punishment.”

They both laughed and Tonya ate a piece of bacon.

“The eggs are ready.”

“I’ll go and tell them. I want to see these ducklings, too,” Tonya said. She wiped her hands on her jeans and took a last sip of tea before heading out the back door.

“Oh!” Tonya said, stepping back as Bailey barged in at a gallop.

“Heather fell down!” she said, running to the table.

Kathryn made to stand up, startled at the child’s outburst, but then Heather came limping in.

“What’s happened?” Kathryn said.

Tonya held Heather’s arm and led her to the table to sit down. Kathryn got up and bustled at the freezer, getting ice ready for whatever was hurting Heather.

“I don’t know,” Heather said, shakily. “I just...” She shook her head. “...lost my balance?”

Tonya scooted Bailey out of way while Kathryn added the ice to Heather’s ankle and went to get the arnica out of the first aid kit. Kathryn’s heart rate bounced up with her alarm. Heather never lost her balance. She had always been enviably graceful. Kathryn was the round hippie who bumped into things. Heather, on the other hand, had inherited her absent father’s spatial superiority.

“Thank you for telling us about Heather’s fall, Bailey,” Kathryn said. “Could you pour Heather some lemonade from the pitcher? She might want to take a pain pill.”

Heather nodded and covered her eyes with her hand. Bailey scampered off with gusto to perform her Very Important Task.