Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,112

busy mucking out some stalls, so he sent us,” the woman said. “It’s nearly noon. I thought you’d like to grab some lunch and then help us in the orchard. That is, unless you’d rather help Rocky muck out the stalls?”

I couldn’t stop from grimacing at the idea. I didn’t know what might be worse, shoveling out horseshit or spending more quality time with Rocky. It definitely sounded worse than lunch and work in an orchard. Unfortunately, I didn’t know which one would gain me more points with Gaia, though I had a feeling it was going to be horseshit and Rocky.

“Brook!” The man laughed, wrapping one arm around the woman’s shoulders. He looked at me, smiling. Something about his expression made me think that he knew exactly what had been crossing my mind. “You have to excuse her. She’s teasing you. Join us for lunch and then we’ll be picking apples.”

After milking the cows and the threat of mucking stalls, the idea of picking apples sounded frighteningly easy. Of course, so did lunch. I was wondering if I would have to cook it when the man laughed again. Yeah, he was definitely reading my thoughts.

“My name’s Ox,” he said, extending his hand toward me. I shook it, finding myself smiling as well. “And this rascal is Brook,” he finished, indicating the woman pressed close to him.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Powell,” Brook said with a little wave. “Let’s grab lunch. I’m starving.”

I walked with the pair back across the field in what I thought was the same direction I had come from with Rocky, but as we crested another hill I was faced with a quiet pond and a vast apple orchard instead of the red barn. We chatted about the nice weather, the peace and quiet of nature, and the random sightings of rabbits and butterflies as we walked toward the pond. I had been tempted to question them about Gaia, as both seemed far more willing to talk than Rocky, but even as the questions formed in my brain, they drifted away again on the breeze.

At the edge of the pond was a large picnic basket with a folded blanket draped over it. While Ox and I set about spreading the blanket, Brook started unloading containers of food. We knelt beside her and set out cheese, butter, bread, ham, chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, pickles, olives, fruit, and three different kinds of pie. More food came out of the basket than I thought possible, but I was reaching the point where I stopped questioning things in this strange place.

I gratefully accepted the enormously mounded plate of food from Brook and offered to help fill hers. Oddly enough, I didn’t even balk when Ox poured me a large glass of cold milk. We ate in companionable silence, soaking in the sounds of frogs and dragonflies around the pond. The food tasted as if it had all been made fresh that day and probably was. As we finished, we reclined on the blanket and talked about memories of growing up.

During a lull in the conversation, I thought about asking them about the farm and Gaia, but the question slipped away again and I laughed at a comment Ox made. There was something comfortable about the couple that left me feeling like I had known them my entire life. Relaxing in the shade of a large tree with a full stomach, I was content. Even the grumpy Rocky and his fifty dairy cows didn’t seem so bad anymore. The work had been hard and backbreaking, but it was good, honest work that had filled me with a sense of accomplishment. I felt as if I fit into something larger that my mind couldn’t quite define yet.

It wasn’t much longer before Ox declared that it was time to get back to work. I helped them clean up and repack the picnic basket. Brook folded the blanket and placed it over the basket as if we had never touched it. I followed them into the orchard, where I found three wooden ladders and fifty large baskets.

To my surprise, Ox and Brook didn’t leave me alone in the orchard, but each grabbed a ladder and a wicker basket before heading off to a tree. I did the same and picked a tree near them. The next few hours were filled with easy conversation and laughter as we placed ripe apples in our baskets. The work was steady and tiring, but the buzz of the