Cider Brook Read online

Hazelton Hall, the main room was called.

  Christopher had mentioned it in passing last night on their way back after the chimney fire. Justin had never paid much attention. He had no idea why it was named after a Hazelton but assumed it had to do with money, a donation the family had made to help fund the building. He’d asked Randy Frost after they’d left Carriage Hill last night. Randy didn’t know, either.

  Then, in the early-morning shadows, Justin had remembered a plaque on the back wall of the main room, and an old story—a near-forgotten story that was part of the fabric of Knights Bridge, of fighting its fires.

  The room was maybe twenty feet by fourteen feet. Not that big. Shiny, polished oak floors and tall windows, sunlight streaming in on the bright afternoon. Folding tables were shoved up against a side wall, under a large bulletin board covered with information on training sessions, safety reminders, town goings-on.

  The plaque was by itself on a white-painted wall between two windows. Dark, coppery lettering against a lighter copper background that explained in the simplest, starkest terms why this was Hazelton Hall.

  HAZELTON HALL

  DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF EZEKIEL HAZELTON

  APRIL 12, 1885–OCTOBER 6, 1915

  HE DIED SO THAT OTHERS MIGHT LIVE.

  Justin looked around him at the empty room. He’d attended functions and training sessions here countless times for as far back as he could remember, and never once had he read the damn plaque on the wall.

  He left the hall, walking past Christopher out front. Christopher didn’t say a word. Justin knew he must look stiff, unapproachable, but he was shaken to his core. He bypassed his truck and walked down to the country store. No one said a word to him here, either. He headed straight back to the camping gear and the photographs on the wall next to the bulletin board.

  His gaze zeroed in on the young couple in the middle photograph.

  Zeke and Henrietta, 1915

  From the look of the trees around the cider mill and the wagon of apples, the photograph must have been taken in the fall, shortly before Zeke Hazelton’s death.

  He and Henrietta looked happy.

  What had happened to her?

  But Justin knew.

  He died so that others might live.

  Thirty years old. Younger than Justin was now. His life before him, sacrificed in a terrible fire that few remembered now, a hundred years later.

  Justin went out through the back of the store, needing air—a moment to throttle back the emotion and resurface in the Knights Bridge of today, with its small, modern fire department and trained volunteer and professional firefighters. The courage and sacrifice of men like Zeke Hazelton had led the way.

  Had Samantha sensed the tragedy of his and Henrietta’s story?

  Had she known?

  No.

  She hadn’t known. Didn’t know now. She might have ways Justin didn’t get, but one thing he knew about Samantha Bennett—she was damn lousy at being anything but open and straightforward. It was who she was. Sneaking around, lying and pretending, didn’t come naturally to her.

  Then again, he’d been wrong about women before.

  * * *

  The Bennetts hadn’t arrived yet when Justin walked up onto the cabin porch. He knocked on the side of the screen door, the main door wide open despite the cool weather. “Come on in,” Samantha called. “I’m just getting ready for the family onslaught.”

  He smiled as he joined her in the front room, with its stone fireplace and comfortable, oversize furnishings. “You can’t wait.”

  “It’s true. We haven’t had a family reunion in ages. All of us together.” She grabbed a quilt off the back of a chair. “It’ll be good.”

  “You just expected it would be in Boston.”

  “That was the plan.” She set the quilt back on the chair. “The quilts are fabulous. I’ve always wanted to curl up under a stack of quilts on a cold, rainy day.”

  “You won’t get your chance in the next couple of days. It’s going to be sunny.”

  “Cool, though. The quilts look handmade. Are they?”

  “Gran and my aunts sewed them. They love to quilt together. Everyone gets quilts for presents. When we decided to turn this place into a getaway, they got busy and made a bunch of quilts for it. They’d like it that you appreciate their quilts.” He pointed to a log-cabin quilt on the couch. “That’s got pieces of one of my old shirts. I wasn’t ready to part with it, but I left it on Gran’s living room floor one day and it ended up in a quilt.”

  “Then I’ll think of you if I end up under it.” Her cheeks flamed, but she laughed. “I really need to think before I speak.”

  “It’s a good habit but not as much fun.”

  She nodded toward the screen door. “Want to get some air?”

  He followed her outside. She stood looking out at the pond, a half-dozen gray birches along the bank. “How long did you live here?”

  “A few years. It needed work. I put in a new bathroom and kitchen, painted, dug out the septic tank. That sort of thing.”

  “All while working for Sloan & Sons?”

  “That was the deal.” He sat on the rail, his knee brushing against her hip as she stayed on her feet. “There used to be a house on the other side of the pond, down the hill through the trees. Part of its foundation is still there. It burned to the ground in 1915.”

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “Who lived there?”

  “Zeke and Henrietta Hazelton and their son.”

  “The couple in the photograph.” Samantha inhaled, her eyes wide now. “Justin...”

  “They moved out here after they were married.” Justin kept any emotion out of his voice, but he could feel it working its way through him as he looked back out across the pond. “Zeke worked in the country store and he and Henrietta ran the cider mill during apple season. This field used to be an apple orchard. You can still see a few old apple trees along the stone wall.”

  “I noticed them when Loretta and I were walking.” Samantha’s voice was quiet. She placed a hand on a post and looked sideways at him. “Justin—what happened to Zeke and Henrietta? Their story doesn’t have a happy ending, does it?”

  “Zeke was down at the cider mill. It was a dry, clear October afternoon. Henrietta and their little boy were home. The house caught fire. A kitchen stove fire that got out of control. Zeke smelled the smoke and ran home, but by then, the house was fully engulfed in flames.”

  Samantha inhaled sharply next to him. “His wife and son were trapped inside?”

  “They’d been in the pantry putting up food for the winter. The exact wrong place. But Zeke knew that was what Henrietta had planned for the afternoon and checked there first. He got them out safely.”

  “So their story does have a happy ending—”

  “He was overcome with smoke and collapsed in the back door. Henrietta set the baby in their wagon and ran to get help, but it was too late. She was driven back by the fire. They say if not for her son, she would have run straight into the flames and died with Zeke.”

  “How awful,” Samantha whispered, pale and still.

  Justin held in his own emotion. The woods across the pond were aflame with fall color, as they would have been the day Zeke Hazelton died. “It’s been a hundred years. Zeke didn’t have the training or equipment we have today. It’s likely smoke inhalation, not the flames, killed him. There was nothing Henrietta could have done.”

  “What happened to her and their son?”

  “They left town. Zeke’s parents ran the store until their deaths. They sold the mill.” Justin eased off the porch rail and turned to Samantha. “I don’t know what connection Zeke and Henrietta could have to your pirate.”

  “Nor do I, and it doesn’t matter—”

  “Doesn’t it, Sam? You were caught in a bad storm and then a fire. You’ve trekked up and down the roads and trails out here.” He moved in close to her, touched a knuckle to her cheek. “You’ve let yourself get caught up with me. H
ow far will you go to get your answers?”

  Tears shone in her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him now. She was staring out at the woods across the pond. “Did you know about Zeke and Henrietta when you bought the cider mill?”

  “Not really. I’d heard things here but never made the connection to the mill.”

  She shifted her gaze to him, tears glistening on her cheeks now. “I don’t know how someone goes on after such a thing. Being rescued by the man you love. Having him die before your eyes.”

  “I don’t, either, but I hope Henrietta found a way.” Justin slipped his arms around Samantha, held her close, smelling her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “I have to get back to work. This is a good spot, Samantha. Enjoy your family.”

  * * *

  Justin stopped at Carriage Hill after work. His brother Brandon was in the kitchen with Maggie and the boys, who were at the table regaling Loretta Wrentham with tales of their O’Dunn grandmother and her goats. “We help her muck out the barn,” Aidan said.

  “Muck out the barn?” Loretta frowned at them. “You mean shovel manure?”

  Tyler nodded eagerly. “Grandma makes us wear work gloves so we don’t get poop and stuff on our hands.”

  “Oh, well. There you go. Sign me up.”

  Maggie stepped into the mudroom. “I can’t wait to tell Gran that you like mucking out the barn.”

  It was clear Aidan and Tyler liked getting a reaction out of Loretta more than they liked the work itself. They moved on to horrifying her with tales of slugs they’d found in Olivia’s gardens. “I can buy that goats are cute,” Loretta, obviously playing along, said, “but do not try to tell me that slugs are cute.”

  Five-year-old Aidan made an exaggerated face. “Slugs are nasty.”

  Maggie emerged from the mudroom with a large clear-glass container of some kind of whole-grain flour. “The Bennetts have arrived, did you know, Justin?” She set the container on the butcher-block island. “Samantha’s parents, her aunt and uncle and four cousins. They all fit at the cabin?”

  He shrugged. “One way or the other.”

  “They’re used to a Boston mansion,” Loretta said from the table. “It needs work, but it’s still a Back Bay mansion.” She held up a hand at Justin. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your cabin. It’s adorable.”

  “Adorable.” Brandon, standing at the sink, grinned. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called anything associated with us adorable.”

  Loretta rolled her eyes. “I’m not going there.”

  “Smart move,” Maggie said, turning back to Justin. “Your mother called me. I’m bringing the Bennetts food. Simple fare. You would think world-famous explorers would want something exotic, but lasagna and salad for dinner, toast and cereal for breakfast and some fruit and sandwich fixings will do it. Grab an apron. You can help. See what’s up.”

  Justin shook his head. “I’m not grabbing an apron, Maggie.”

  Brandon grinned again at Loretta. “See what I mean? We are not adorable.”

  “All in the eye of the beholder,” she countered. “I’m sure a girl slug thinks a boy slug is pretty darned adorable.”

  Justin was fairly certain Loretta had said “darned” because of the boys. Brandon got them off to do homework, leaving Justin to help Maggie load her van. Somehow he ended up going with her out to the cabin. She pulled in behind an old Mercedes.

  Every light in the place was on, and it was not quiet.

  They got out, Maggie elbowed in next to him as he opened up the back of the van. Justin sighed. “What is it, Maggie?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Grab that big box there, will you? You can handle it.”

  “Maggie—”

  “Let’s just go.”

  She marched with her box up to the porch. Justin followed with the big box. The cabin was warm, a fire roaring in the fireplace. Two women were wrapped in quilts in front of the fire. They had glasses of wine and seemed to be enjoying themselves as two men—the Bennett brothers, Justin thought—set the table in the adjoining dining room. A teenage boy was laying out napkins, explaining that if he got into Amherst College, his top pick, he would check out all the old haunts of his deceased grandfather and his grandfather’s friends.

  Justin took Maggie’s lead and went into the kitchen with her. Samantha emerged from a back bedroom, obviously surprised to see him setting a box of food on the counter. She made introductions as her father, uncle, cousin Isaac and then three more cousins—Keith, Ann, Eloisa—crowded into the kitchen. Maggie kept bumping into him as they unloaded the boxes. She wasn’t even subtle. Justin knew she was reminding him who he was and where he belonged, and it wasn’t with the offspring of Harry Bennett, explorer and adventurer.

  When Justin headed out to the van for the last box of groceries, Malcolm Bennett followed him. He had on shorts and a sweatshirt but didn’t seem to notice the cold temperature. He grinned as he reached for a jug of milk. “Not quite ready to meet the Bennetts, are you, Justin?”

  He noticed that Samantha had her father’s dark eyes. “I’m helping my sister-in-law.”

  “We appreciate her stepping in at the last minute. This is a sudden trip, but we’re glad to be here. Caleb’s kids haven’t had a chance to see much of the New England countryside. It’ll be good for the younger ones to see where their brother’s going to school. He doesn’t want to jinx himself, but he’ll get into Amherst.”

  “Sounds good,” Justin said, his tone neutral. “Hope you all enjoy your stay. Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

  “My father grew up on a farm not that far north of here. This place reminds me of it. Funny the wobbles and turns our lives can take.” Malcolm swung the milk jug next to him as they started back up to the porch. “Thank you for saving Samantha in that fire. Collapsing means it was too close for comfort.”

  “She would argue that she collapsed.”

  Malcolm didn’t seem surprised. “We Bennetts aren’t always good at acknowledging our limits. We’re not reckless. We plan as best we can, mitigate the dangers, account for the risks, but sometimes you just don’t know. Then what are you going to do? Chicken out because you can’t know everything?” He nodded to Justin. “You’d never fight another fire if that was your answer.”

  Malcolm’s young nieces had ensconced themselves under quilts on the porch. They stared up at Justin. “You’re a firefighter?”

  Their uncle scowled. “You girls quit gaping. You can be firefighters, too, you know.”

  “I’m a volunteer firefighter,” Justin said. “I’m also a carpenter.”

  “We thought you were a caterer.”

  Maggie swung out the door. “He should be so lucky.”

  Malcolm looked out toward the pond, dark under the night sky. “Knights Bridge is a lovely town. Would you ever leave?”

  “I left once for a few years,” Maggie said. “Now I’m back, and I’m glad of it. I’ve never been happier.”

  She trotted back down to the van. Malcolm looked expectantly at Justin. “You?”

  Justin shrugged. “I’m here,” he said, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did, he thought as Samantha came out to the porch.

  Her father grunted and went back inside.

  Justin started down the steps. Samantha joined him. They passed Maggie, who mumbled something noncommittal as she ran back up to the cabin with a small bag, the last of her delivery.

  “Thank you,” Samantha said as she and Justin came to the van.

  He grinned at her. “This was brave of me, don’t you think?”

  “Ann and Eloisa already have crushes on you. Anyway, I just called and invited Loretta, Dylan and Olivia up for dinner. I was about to call you to see if you’d like to join us—”

  “No, Sam,” he said, interrupting her. “Thanks, but I’ll see you later.” He brushed her cheek. “Be with your family.” He winked at her as he shut the back of the van. “And if you guys get bored playing Scrabble, there’s also Mon
opoly.”

  Samantha didn’t seem to think he was that funny. He laughed as he got back into the van. Maggie returned and slid behind the wheel, glancing up at the cabin. “The Bennetts are great. I wanted not to like them. Is that wrong of me?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sighed. “You weren’t supposed to answer.”

  She started up the van and backed out, the dark, open field behind them. The driveway, in considerably better shape than the one to the cider mill, curved around one side of the pond, then down through the woods.

  Maggie spoke again when they reached the road. “When Brandon and I were living in Boston, I never thought about Harry Bennett being there.”

  “Harry was an old man by the time you were in Boston.”

  “I guess, but still. It’s cool, getting to meet his sons. They’re adventurers, too.” She held the steering wheel with both hands. “I hope they like the food.”

  “Your lasagna’s the best, Maggie. They’ll love it.”

  She looked hesitant. “I didn’t make it.”

  “Olivia?”

  “Not Olivia.”

  “Brandon? He’s a good cook. Not as good as Adam, but he can do lasagna.”

  “Heather,” Maggie blurted. “Heather made the lasagna.”

  Justin grinned. “Uh-oh.”

  “I take full responsibility. She was at Carriage Hill, and Olivia and I were trying our hand at essential oils and not having great luck with our new still. I had all the ingredients for several batches of lasagna using Olivia’s tomatoes. Heather offered to pitch in while I finished up with Olivia.” Maggie winced as she glanced at Justin. “I didn’t think of it until just now. Think it’ll be okay?”

  “It’ll be fine. Even Heather can put together a basic lasagna. Your reputation is secure, Maggie.”

  “Phew.” She smiled at him. “Samantha blushed when she saw you, did you notice? Her mother’s beautiful, as well as smart. Of course, so is Samantha. They’re both only children, did you know?”

  “Maggie.”

  “What?”

  “Just drive.”

  Twenty-Six

  “So the stud with the groceries is the one who saved you from the fire and ratted you out to McCaffrey?” Caleb Bennett shook his head as he and Samantha set the big table in the kitchen. “You remind me a lot of Pop, Sam. You don’t do anything by half measures.”