Page 17 of Love In Between

Bridie paused and looked straight through him, her gaze faraway. ‘I have to save the berries. It’s going to hail,’ her voice cracked, and she started franticly picking again.

Caleb checked out the sky. The far horizon was a steely grey but everywhere else was a freakish Armageddon green as if hell was coming for them. He lowered his gaze to the rows of plants. There were masses of red berries. The two of them alone were not going to save this row, let alone this field. ‘Where’s your dad?’ he yelled over the din.

Bridie didn’t reply but kept working. Caleb didn’t know what to do: it was madness to stand here in the pummelling ice-like rain and pick strawberries, but he couldn’t leave her alone.

Sybella arrived with spare containers. ‘Here use these,’ she said. He looked at her with incredulity before she said further, ‘I’ve picked plenty of strawberries before.’ Curly strands of hair flattened against her face and Caleb’s heart couldn’t help but swell. He bent over and yanked every berry he could see but before his bucket was even half-full, hard shards of ice hit him.

‘Sybella,’ he pulled at her arm, ‘run and get under cover,’ the little girl hesitated until a golf-ball of ice hit her on the head and she gulped.

‘Bridie, Bridie, you have to stop, you’ll get hurt.’ He trailed behind her while she moved along the line with incredible speed. She filled two buckets and stepped, toppling a third.

‘No,’ she sobbed and bent to her knees collecting fruit from the ground where they’d scattered. Their hands clashed as they rushed. Once full, he held it close to his chest and their eyes connected. He shook his head, and she did too. He grasped her arm and tried to drag her away, but she stood rock-solid. Putting the container down, he tried again. She was like a stubborn donkey, locking her legs and refusing to move. Caleb was stronger though and eventually she gave way and he propelled her along. Under the awning of the old shop, she begged him. ‘Please save what we’ve picked.’ He nodded and braced himself for the barrage of rain and hail as he ran the few hundred metres back to the field, shoved every loose berry he could see into his bucket and his pockets until they bulged. He ignored the ones that fell as he ran.

He paused under the shelter but saw an open shed. He gestured for Sybella to move indoors. Bridie was frozen to the spot, so he settled Sybella into a blanket and raced back outside. Bridie was on her knees and sobbing. He grasped her under the arms, but she fought back with surprising veracity.

‘No! Leave me alone!’ She buried her head in her hands. Caleb looked left and right. Where was her father? The farmer? Wasn’t he worried about his crops?

‘Where’s your dad?’

Her eyes flew open, and anger flashed through them, turning them a violent dark green, like the sky. He’d never seen that look before. It was hostile. Through gritted teeth she said, ‘He’s inside sleeping off his hangover.’ Caleb took a moment to process the words.

‘Should I go and get him?’

He watched her rage seep away; her shoulders slump and the fight leave her body. ‘He’s like you, a drunk.’ There was no mistaking the words, they were loud and clear and said without the vitriol of moments before. Caleb took one step back, shock reverberating through him.

‘He deals with life’s problems through the bottle too. Then can’t get up the next day.’ Caleb reeled from the word drunk, but Bridie continued. ‘Yesterday was a better day. He was awake and picked fruit in the orchard. I saw him,’ a sob broke through her words. ‘I was so relieved because it meant I didn’t have to do any picking. But I’m stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have checked but I didn’t. He probably picked less than a bucket, perhaps ate the rest. Now, look,’ her voice rose again, and she pointed towards the fields, ‘if I’d checked I could have picked yesterday’s crop and there’d be less damage today. The berries will not survive the hail. They’ll be bruised, maybe good for smoothies is about all.’ Her whole body shuddered.

Without thinking Caleb pulled her towards him, his arms encircling her frame easily, but she was a dead-weight. She shook and he held her tighter as her chest heaved, sobs escaping but eventually receding to small hiccups. Resting his chin on top of her head, he smelled the scent of her hair, it was all citrus and fruit and clean. Her plump breasts rested against his chest, the shape of her hips and limbs moulded to him; she was all woman and he fought against the bolt of pleasure that shot through him. His body reacted with lust; his heart cracked at her despair, but his head recalled her harsh words. Is that what she thought?

‘Let’s go into the shed, Sybella’s there.’ Bridie pulled away, wiped her eyes and nodded.

Inside he placed her onto a barrel with an old blanket around her shoulders. Sybella offered a broad smile thinking the whole thing was a lark.

Drunk.

‘Do you want me to go and pick some more?’

Bridie shook her head while tears rolled down her cheeks, visible now they didn’t mix with raindrops. ‘There’s no point.’ This woman who he’d only recently met, had been a constant ray of sunshine on his gloomiest of days, lent a hand to anyone who needed it and seemed to be the lifeblood of this community. Now she sat before him, completely desolate. Broken. He understood those feelings. But she’d been the one to help him, even when he thought he wasn’t worth it.

Caleb Stirling wasn’t used to helping others. He looked around him for inspiration. In the shed there were trays of picked strawberries and long benches with containers and water taps and other paraphernalia. He’d been in plenty of fruit and veg plantations and this looked like where they packaged up their produce.

‘Sybella, do you want to help me prepare punnets of strawberries?’

Her eyebrows fused together. ‘What do ya mean?’

‘See these?’ He held up some plastic tubs, ‘we have to sort the berries into these for transporting to the shops.’

‘Oh yeah,’ she said, ‘these are the ones we can take to the tuckshop.’ He wasn’t so sure about that anymore, he sensed Bridie needed these berries. Nonetheless, the little girl jumped up, ready.

Bridie shivered.

‘I’ll make Bridie a cup of tea first. Bridie?’ he questioned.

Bridie watched them, her face pale and streaked with tears and dirt. Her damp clothes sticking to her.

‘No, let me make the tea and then I’ll help,’ she strode over near him, ‘thank you,’ she said and stood so close their bodies touched. ‘I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it.’

Drunk.

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