The Cherry Harvest by Lucy Sanna Page B

clothes weighed her down as she tried to pull herself up. At the top she collapsed on a platform, chest heaving. The lake churned in her stomach, burning up through her throat. She turned on her side, gagging.
    After some time, she pushed up, sitting, bent over. She was on a dock that jutted out into the wild lake on the northern point of a bay. Far to the south the lighthouse blinked. Miles away, she thought, and home even farther. When an owl hooted, Kate looked behind her, a dense forest. Wild water in front of her, forest behind her. Wind icy around her. She couldn’t stop shaking.
    Looking up the beach, she saw a rowboat overturned on the shore. She couldn’t take it tonight. She wasn’t strong enough to fight the current rushing in the opposite direction. But she could crawl under it until the storm broke. She staggered to her feet, muscles weak and aching, teeth chattering.
    What was that? A wolf racing toward her, barking. She stareddown at the choppy lake. If she jumped in again, she would surely drown. But to be torn apart by a wolf . . . !
    The animal came to the edge of the dock, snarling, teeth bared.
    Kate took a step back. The wolf put a foot on the dock, growling, guarding the edge, barring her way. Not a wolf, but a burly German shepherd kind of dog. Fierce and menacing.
    â€œJake!” A man’s voice called out. “Here, Jake.”
    At the sound of the man’s voice, the dog stopped growling, but stood its ground.
    â€œWho is it?” the man called as he approached, white jacket gleaming in the starlight.
    Kate’s lips were too cold to form an answer.
    â€œGood boy,” he said, coming closer, petting the dog, close enough to see Kate. “What’s happened to you? You’re soaking wet!” He took off his jacket and fixed it across her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get you into the house. You could freeze to death out here!”
    The jacket was warm with body heat and smelled vaguely of vanilla. Kate pulled it close around her. “I n. . . n. . . need to g. . . g. . . go home,” she finally managed to say.
    â€œFirst we’ll get you thawed out.” He put an arm around her waist and half-carried her down the dock and across a wide expanse of lawn toward a house set far back from shore, away from the wind. It was a sprawling house filled with light. As they got closer, she heard bits of music, laughter. Stumbling alongside this warm strong man, Kate tried to focus. On the other side of the bright windows, people were dancing. Am I dreaming?
    Orange and purple paper lanterns showed the way. A tall Negro wearing a white apron stood in the yard poking at something that hung over a fire pit. Kate sucked in the aroma of roasting meat. Supper so late? Or is it tomorrow?
    A shorter man approached the cook and said, “William, the guests are getting stewed. We need to feed them.”
    â€œYes, sir.” William was working to unhitch what appeared to be a whole pig on a spit.
    â€œWhere’s our host?” He turned and saw them. “Ah, Clayton, there you are,” the short man slurred, coming forward, ice cubes clinking in a drink in his hand. “What’s this, some flotsam you picked up on the beach?”
    Flotsom?
    â€œShut up, Ronny. Let’s get her in through the back.”
    â€œYou’re not taking her to your room, buddy—”
    â€œChrist, Ronny. She needs dry clothes. Help me find Peggy. This girl’s taller, but about Peggy’s size.”
    When they came under a porch light, he let go of her waist and gave a quick bow. “Clayton Wesley Sullivan, at your service.”
    He had a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and a boyish nose splashed with freckles. When he bowed, his curly dark hair dipped onto his forehead. “Call me Clay.”
    She couldn’t possibly manage her whole name. “Kate,” she said through quivering lips. “Kate Christiansen.”
    He opened the back