Reap (The Harvest Saga Book 1) Page 3

  Control was paramount to maintain order and peace. But, right now, I felt anything but peaceful. I felt mutinous, rebellious. I wanted to lash out, fight back, jump up and down, and scream. But, it would do no good. I’d be whipped, again—beaten within an inch of my life, again. The lashes on my back would look like child’s play when they were through with me.

  “I don’t love her, Abby Blue. I love—”

  My eyes stopped him before my words did. “Ky. Don’t go there. Whatever you’re about to say, just...don’t. It won’t change anything.” He recoiled and stood abruptly, before marching out the door, slamming the rickety wood into the wall behind it. I blinked at the sound. Does Ky love me?

  MORNING CAME WAY TOO SOON. Lulu woke me up and helped me get ready. There was no way I could possibly wear a bra, so she cut an old sheet and made a wide strip of fabric with. She carefully wrapped my torso like a mummy, effectively binding my chest and the wounds on my back at the same time. It had relieved some of the pressure and I asked her to bind me again tonight after she slopped the goopy herbal concoction on me. She was happy to have given me some relief and chastised me for even asking for her help this evening.

  She helped me shrug on one of Ky’s button-down shirts. The hem tickled my knees, but I didn’t care. I wanted and needed something loose, especially since I had to report for work at the Preston’s today. The thought made me cringe. Every movement of my arms, every step, reminded me of my punishment—not just the wounds on my back, but the punishment of coming into contact with Zander Preston.

  I hated Zander Preston with a fierce passion. He had always bullied and belittled me. Not only me, but anyone he felt was beneath him or could be a threat to him. His father held a position on the village council, contributing to this unhealthy obsession with entitlement. An obsession that allowed him to believe he had the right to treat everyone around him as if they were beneath him.

  Every villager in Orchard was born a Lesser, deemed by those in the cities, to be something subhuman and only good for one thing–work. The citizens of those magnificent streets, with buildings rumored to scrap the sky were the Greaters. They believed themselves to be born better in every way than Lessers, the workers they controlled. We were fit to produce and prepare their food and the raw materials that the cities required to keep running, but for little else. So how Zander, a Lesser just like everyone else in Orchard, could somehow consider himself more, I did not understand. Maybe by putting everyone else down, he managed to somehow make himself feel better.

  I didn’t know. And, right now, as I gingerly slid my legs into my jeans, my feet into my socks and shoes, I didn’t care. I just hoped that I would get there after Zander left for the orchards. In the kitchen, Lulu hugged me softly and kissed my cheek, handing me a small burlap bag with my lunch packed inside. “Behave, Abigail. I know how you feel about that Zander boy, but for God’s sake, behave. You’re in no shape to take another lashing.”

  “I will, Lulu. I promise.” I squeezed her a bit tighter and appreciated her sweet, comforting scent. She had always smelled of fresh grass and morning dew–earthy and like home. I came to live with her when I was only two years old. I don’t remember my parents. Lulu says they couldn’t raise me, so they sent me to her. They were too young to have a child, her baby brother and my mother.

  I often wondered who they were, what type of people they were now, if they were even still alive, and if they would recognize me if they saw me now that I was grown. Would I recognize them? Would I favor my father or mother more?

  I was never unhappy here with Lulu. She had always been great, so supportive and loving. She’d been my parent for as long as I could remember and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. I harbored no bitterness or anger toward my parents. If they couldn’t raise me, at least they gave me Lulu, and along with her, they gave me the chance to be loved by someone who wanted and could care for me.

  I pulled away from her and smiled, looking her over. She was only five foot three, but she had always been a spitfire. Her brown hair was streaked with gray now and pulled back in a small bun at the nape of her neck, her hair having thinned over the years. Her eyes were strange, but beautiful. Sometimes they looked brown, but today they looked almost green. They were hazel, but so much more, ever changing with their surroundings. Chameleon eyes. Big and round and beautiful.

  She nudged me out the door toward the Preston’s, and I trudged down the path that began in back of our house. I passed several other homes along the way to the Preston’s. Their home was a bigger than ours, bigger than any in our village, actually. Goes along with their haughty egos.

  Cresting a small hill, the house rose mightily from the earth cleared around it. My heart began to beat rapidly. I really, really did not want to go into the Preston home. And, I desperately did not want to see Zander this morning. I promised Lulu I would behave. I would hate to break my promise. But with Zander, all bets were off. And, even Lulu knew that.

  Their home had two floors. It had more than four bedrooms in total. With only three occupants, this truly was luxurious. Most houses in the village had two bedrooms. Those were usually shared. Children would pile into one room and parents into the other. A couple of homes had three bedrooms, but an extra was usually only added when no more children could be stuffed inside the spare, and only after the council had consulted with the Greaters and they approved of the addition.

  The Preston house was opposing. The wood had been whitewashed and the porch was held up by enormous wooden beams, adding to its imposing grandeur. I squared my shoulders, climbed the six stairs to the porch’s landing, and made my way to the door. It opened before I could even knock. I stood there, my hand raised into a fist, ready to pound on the wood. Looking back at me with his ever present signature smirk was none other than Zander Preston. Crap.

  If he wasn’t such a jerk, he would be attractive. Actually, that was an understatement. He would be amazingly handsome. But, his horrific attitude made him ugly. He smirked at me and swept his open palm inward, motioning me into his home. I stepped over the threshold and sucked in a deep breath.

  His palm landed firmly on my back, and I flinched and whimpered before I could control it. He laughed, but thankfully removed his paw from my skin, which was now on fire thanks to his carelessness, or purposeful placement, rather. “Oh, sorry, Abigail. I must have forgotten about your back.”

  “Right. You forgot the reason that I’m here? Sure you did,” I bit back. I was not about to let him bully me.

  “Easy, tiger. I’m just your welcome wagon. I’m supposed to show you what to do today. My mother left a list for you. It’s underwhelming to me. But, she argued that your back is still healing and that you mustn’t be pushed too hard; too fast. She plans to keep you around for a while and we need you healthy.”

  Keep me around for a while? Whatever. As soon as I could raise my arms without flinching, I’d be back in the orchard. He grabbed my elbow and led me into the kitchen. There, on the counter, sat a list, written in perfect loopy handwriting. And, if the items that stretched down its length were short, so was I.

  For the record, I stood five foot seven, fairly tall compared to the other girls around here. Zander left me for a moment to rifle around a nearby closet, emerging with a bucket, cleaner, scrub brushes, mop, and broom. His teeth were white against his sun-kissed skin. His hair was so blonde it was almost white in places where the sun has bleached it over the summer. He wasn’t tall, but wasn’t particularly short either, just average. Zander was neither scrawny nor muscular. Again, average. Perhaps his attitude was a poor attempt to compensate for his mediocrity. His averageness.

  He dropped everything in a heap in the floor. “Well, Abigail. I’m off to the orchard. Get to work. I’ll check your work when I get home, so you’d better be thorough. I’d hate for Norris to hear that you’re slacking on the job.” He smirked and sauntered out the front door. I had never happier to see a door slam closed in my entire life. I decided to start upstair
s and work my way down, based upon the items on the list.

  I was accustomed to hard work. I didn’t fear it, but would normally welcome it. But, being here in the Preston household made me loathe it. Somehow they did manage to make me feel less than Lesser.

  ∞

  MRS. PRESTON’S “SHORT LIST” HAD made for a very long day. My back ached and sharp pains shot like forked lightening up and down one of the deeper slices in particular in almost a zipper-like pain—the one that curled overtop my left shoulder and licked its way across my collar bone. Darkness descended in the valley and soon everyone would come home from a long day in the fields. I furiously tried to hurry and finish. I wanted to avoid seeing Zander again like the plague.

  Sloshing soapy water over the kitchen floor, I realized that I still had half of it to finish before I could leave. My back had definitely slowed me down today. If not for the pain, I would have been done at least an hour ago. My knees ached as I crawled across the roughly hewn floor of their immaculate kitchen, but the Preston’s floor was much smoother than mine and Lulu’s, so I shouldn’t complain.

  I scrubbed. Hard. Back and forth, pressing the brush into the bubbles until I felt that it was clean enough to move along to the next portion, and then the next. The rhythm was nearly killing me, but I was desperate to finish this last chore on the list, and so I pressed on.

  Unfortunately, my efforts weren’t enough. I heard the door open. Councilman and Mrs. Preston entered the room and I quickly dried the floor that I’d been scrubbing. Mrs. Preston’s eyes sharply took in everything in the room, including me, unfortunately. Her lip curled upward on one side and her pointed nose lifted a little higher into the air. She must have given Zander his blonde hair. Hers was perfectly curled and stiffly sprayed into submission.

  Her sky blue dress was starched crisp and she was the only woman in this village who bothered or dared to wear high heels. I wasn’t sure if she was crazy or if I should admire her tenacity. Her small dark brown eyes fixated on me as I stiffly stood up before her. I could feel them both watching as I rinsed out the sponges and returned the mop and broom to the closet.

  I quickly bid them goodnight and rushed outside to dump the water out of the bucket. I decided to just leave it on the porch. I’d no doubt need it again tomorrow and would have to get some fresh water in the morning anyway, so I could just dump it in the creek then. The Preston’s would likely have a fit if I dumped dirty water onto their precious, freshly-cut lawn.

  ∞

  THANKFULLY, THE NEXT WEEK PASSED with little interaction with Zander. My back healed well with the salves that Evelyn kept sending my way, and before long, I was able to finish the chores at the Preston house before any member of the family made it home. I dealt with Zander when I arrived as he presented his mother’s list for the day, but other than his usual rude remarks, he didn’t bother me too much. My back felt much better. Every night, Lulu rubbed more medicine into my wounds. Most were scabbed over and felt like tightly stretched stripes. Other areas felt numb or tingly.

  Another evening ritual had been the evening visits with Kyan after his day in the orchards. I could tell from his expression and the way he held his shoulders that he was exhausted. Work in the fields was hard and frantic at best, and he was missing one member of his team—me.

  The harvest was approaching quickly, and I was glad that my back had healed faster than Evelyn expected. I wanted to help in the orchards, help in the harvest, as I had done since Lulu had showed me how to run beneath the trees and scavenge for recently fallen apples that hadn’t yet begun to rot.

  The leaves on the trees were turning quickly. Half clung to the green for dear life, while others relinquished control and turned varying shades of gold, orange and my favorite, the blazing red-orange. The entire village was hard at work and I was itching to do my part, and to get outside of the Preston home during the daylight hours.

  We were coming up on harvest time. A few villagers were ordered to work outside the orchards getting the required, but mundane tasks out of the way before the harvest; when all hands would be needed in and around the fields of apple trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. Some cut the hay that the animals would need for the winter, while others tended to the animals themselves. Some harvested vegetables from the community gardens, while others preserved that food and stored it away.

  Most villagers worked in or around the orchards, now. The apples we grew would be sent to the cities. Their factories would process them or the fresh apples would be shipped to stores where the Greaters could purchase them. Eat them. They would be fed from the sweat of our brows and strength of our backs. We would nourish them. The Greaters would take and we would give. Not freely, but because we were forced, because we had no other choice than to obey, or suffer the punishment for dissidence. The punishment for treason was more than just a simple lashing. It was death; swiftly carried out and unmercifully final.

  I finished my chores for the day. It was Saturday and tomorrow was a day of rest. Mr. Preston came home about an hour ago. He didn’t work very late on Saturdays, apparently, but he retreated to his study and I hadn’t seen him since, so I couldn’t complain. Mrs. Preston wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure where she went or what she did all day, but she didn’t work in or near the orchards. That was for sure. She was much too clean and put-together when she came home. Maybe she worked for the council–definitely an indoor kind of girl.

  I checked the last item off of my list and placed the cleaning tools in the small closet before heading down to the creek again to dump the water, now tinged with dirt and dust mixed with the sweat from my brow. How the water came out so dirty today after I just cleaned the floors earlier in the week, was beyond me.

  My tennis shoes carried me down the flattened path toward the creek. It looked so wonderful. I could hear the trickling of the water flowing over the rocks before I could even see it. I kicked my shoes and socks off and waded in, letting the lukewarm water flow over my feet. Soothing and calm. The sun was still strong at this time of year and the water had not yet turned cold. But, before long, the cool mornings and nights that were slowly creeping in would change all of that.

  I rolled up the bottom cuffs of my jeans to my knees and the sleeves of my white and navy button-down shirt, or Ky’s rather, to my elbows. I didn’t need the shirt to ease my back anymore, but it was comfortable and easy to wash. Uneven brown stripes stained the back of it in places anyway and I assumed that he wouldn’t want it back now anyway. I sat on the bank swishing my feet back and forth, leaning back on my palms, face aimed toward the sun, taking a moment to relax and enjoy the welcome warmth washing over my body. I would certainly enjoy spending the day with Lulu tomorrow.

  A shadow fell over me, blocking the sun. Shielding my eyes, I looked up to see Zander standing beside me. His arms were folded across his chest and his oh-so-humble smirk sat upon his lips. “Go away, Zander.” I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that he was already gone.

  “Now, is that any way to speak to your boss?”

  “You are not my boss.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I am. You think my mother and father are the ones who write your little lists? The first day, maybe. Who do you think talked Norris into having you come work for us?” His eyebrows raised along with the corners of his mouth.

  “Whatever. Norris wouldn’t listen to you.”

  “He did. In fact,” he said as he sat down next to me. “He was perfectly content to let you heal at home for a week before sending you back into the orchards. But, I told him how delicate your flesh was and how deep your wounds. I told him that you’d be able to heal better and be more useful working in our house ‘helping’ my mother with the chores, where she could keep an eye on you, make sure you healed properly.”

  I sat up straight. My hands trembled as I held them back, clenching them hard. I wanted to choke the life out of him. I could almost feel the flesh of his neck. “Why?” It was the only thing I could grind out.

 
; He lifted his hand and fingered a strand of my hair. The auburn, not quite red and not quite brown, looked strange in his hands. I smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  Zander looked at me for a moment and then laughed, shrugged and dropped my hair. “I wanted to see you.”

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes. I wanted to see you. Is that so hard to believe?”

  I scoffed. “It is. Why on earth would you want to see me? Why would you ask Norris to make me serve in your house? Why do you have to look down your nose at everyone in the village? Do you enjoy keeping me under your foot?” I was getting more irate with each question.

  His icy blue eyes flashed, turning cold and the smile dropped from his face. He snarled, “Under my foot? You are nowhere near under my foot, Abigail. But, I can make that happen.”

  “Zander, you’ve bullied me since I was a child. You still make jokes at my expense. All of your little followers snicker at me every time I walk by. Now you pull this crap with Norris? I am most definitely under your foot.”

  He leaned toward me and before I knew what was happening, his fingers wove their way into the hair on the back of my head. His face moved quickly to within a half inch of my own. “I pick on you for a reason.”

  I tried to pull my head away, but couldn’t. “What reason?” My voice cracked.

  “If I make you undesirable, no one else will want you.”

  Wait. What? “No one else?”

  “No. One. Else.” His warm breath mingled with my own. “My father will speak with your aunt. I plan to make you mine.”

  My eyes went wide. “What? You hate me! No! There is no way I will marry you.”