Free The Cherry Harvest by Lucy Sanna Page A

pound of potatoes, a quarter-pound of flour, a tin of salt, a cup of Crisco, and a small jar of applesauce.
    Charlotte put her bundles into the baskets and pushed her bicycle down the block to the butcher shop. Through the plate-glass window she watched the butcher’s widow arranging fresh cuts of meat in the cooler, then opened the door, setting the bell jangling. “Morning, Olga.” She gave the old woman the warmest smile she could muster.
    Olga wiped her hands on her bloodstained apron and pushed strands of gray hair back into a tidy bun. “Mornin’, Charlotte.”
    Charlotte placed the package on the counter. “Two of Kate’s young rabbits. Dressed, ready for stewing.”
    Olga’s eyebrows went up. She untied the string around the newspaper wrapping, a bit of a smile playing on her lips. “What would you like?”
    â€œI need a roast for dinner. Something special. Enough for four.”
    â€œFour? Is Ben home?”
    Charlotte was startled with the possibility, then regained her composure. “I wish he were.” But no, men and boys didn’t return from war unless they were wounded. “I mean, I wish this war wouldend and they’d all come home.” She caught sight of the photograph of Olga’s son, Martin, hanging behind the counter. Thirty-seven years old, Charlotte’s very age, missing in action somewhere in Asia. Shortly after Olga and her husband received the telegram, the butcher had a heart attack. Now Olga was alone.
    The widow blinked fast for a moment, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
    Peering into the meat cooler, Charlotte’s eyes flashed on a pink pork tenderloin, large enough to stretch for two days. It was worth more than the rabbits, Charlotte knew, but that was what she wanted. “The pork, is it fresh?”
    â€œJust this mornin’.” Olga nodded. “Eric Engel, ya know, does business with hog farmers downstate, brought in a good haul. I got so much in the storage freezer, gonna make sausage tonight.”
    Ah, so that was why she was letting it go so easily. “I’ll take it then.”
    Olga smiled as she wrapped the beautiful roast in white butcher paper.
    As Charlotte left the shop she noted that Olga was placing Kate’s rabbits prominently in the cooler.
    HEAT LIGHTNING COURSED THROUGH THE HUMID SKY . A coming storm.
    It was late in the afternoon when Charlotte lit the kitchen stove. For two nights now they’d had the lightkeeper’s fish for dinner. Tonight would be a roast. She hummed as she pulled the roasting pan from the cupboard. So long since she had used it! She oiled the roast and set it in the pan and salted it.
    That was when she saw them, Thomas and that Becker fellow walking toward the barn. And there was Kate, riding into the yard. Charlotte watched as Thomas motioned Kate over and brought her into their conversation.
    She didn’t like it, this prisoner coming into her home, Thomas expecting his wife to serve a killer. Charlotte stared at the beautiful roast. Becker could have eaten his prison rations with the rest of them. She stood for a moment, watching the three of them. Maybe she should cancel the whole thing—the invitation, Kate’s lessons. No good could come of it.
    When Charlotte opened the oven door, heat pulsed out like anger. She slid the roast in and slammed the door shut.
    Holding to the countertop, she took a deep breath to calm herself. No, if this man was to tutor Kate, Charlotte wanted to meet him, decide for herself before any lessons began. If she didn’t like him, she’d end it. In the meantime, they’d have a hearty meal.
    Kate came through the door, smiling. “I’ll be down in a minute to help with supper.” She hurried toward the stairs.
    The enthusiasm in Kate’s voice worried Charlotte, and only grew when Kate returned to the kitchen dressed in a flattering skirt and a pretty blouse with