The Cherry Harvest by Lucy Sanna Page B

serving in the US Fifth Army under the command of Major General Mark W. Clark raised a flag over the ruins of Monte Cassino Abbey. The only remnants of the defenders were a group of thirty Germans, all wounded. The road to Rome is open. And now we return to the previous broadcast.”
    Sinatra’s voice came back.
    â€œOh, Thomas! They’ve done it. Ben’s finally out of those terrible mountains.”
    Thomas smiled. “I’m sure we’ll read all about it in the paper tomorrow.”
    Bingo mewed and jumped on the couch. Charlotte scooped him into her lap and pushed her fingers through his soft gray fur. “Thomas, what is the first thing you want when we have money again?”
    â€œThe tractor needs new tires.”
    â€œDamn tractor. Horses are more reliable.”
    â€œYou want to manage the orchard?”
    â€œWhat else?”
    Thomas studied his pipe. “I’ll get myself a good stash of tobacco.” He paused. “What about you, Char?”
    The cat was asleep now, but Charlotte’s fingers didn’t stop massaging his neck. “I need a rooster. And enough layer hens to replenish the flock. And two more goats. And cows. Dairy cows. I’ll start with two.” Charlotte’s mind wandered to her past. Fresh sweet milk, as much as she wanted. Yes, after the war, when Ben came home, Charlotte would go to the county fair and choose two prize calves.
    â€œCows, they take a lot of work, Char.”
    â€œYou forget I grew up on a dairy farm.”
    â€œI haven’t forgotten.” He gave her a wink. “My sweet rosy milkmaid.”
    Charlotte cozied into the couch. “Just think, if we had had a cow these past few years we’d be doing so well, selling milk and butter and cream and cheese. And buttermilk. I don’t recall when I last had buttermilk. If we had a cow, we could feed the whey to the goats and chickens. Hire a bull every spring to get a calf to slaughter at a year. Self-sufficient.”
    â€œYou got it all worked out, my pretty cowgirl. A rooster. A stud bull. I see where that mind of yours is going.”
    She laughed. “You’re always searching for hidden meanings.”
    â€œIsn’t that what women are about? Hidden meanings?”
    â€œI’ll make vanilla bean ice cream. Oh, I can almost taste it! With cherry sauce.”
    â€œCherry sauce. Hmm.” Thomas stood and held out his hand for her to follow.
    CHARLOTTE SAT BEFORE HER DRESSING TABLE and reached for her hairbrush. When Thomas touched her shoulders, she let him take the brush, pulling it gently through her long blond hair. Charlotte closed her eyes, savoring the sensual delight of the simple act.
    It had been so long since she had taken pleasure in his touch. Thomas had always been a lusty man, and they had enjoyed their time together in bed. But since Ben left, Charlotte merely went through the motions. As his wife, it was her duty. But she hadn’t wanted it, not as she used to.
    â€œ You didn’t keep your legs together, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear.
    Charlotte opened her eyes to meet his in the mirror. “I couldn’t resist you, Thomas.”
    When they married, Charlotte was already pregnant. It happened in the hayloft at the dairy, rain pouring down beyond the barn window, cows stomping and bellowing below, the fertile pungent earth, and a future with a man who had inherited his family orchard. Yes, for Thomas, Charlotte opened her legs.
    And now, as she lay next to him on their bed, she opened again, and Thomas moved toward her, his lanky body coming warm against her own, his hands on her breasts, on her buttocks, knowing them, coming into her, full and familiar.
    â€œYou are my downfall,” he whispered. “My original sin.”
    She smiled at his wordplay.
    â€œYou will wear my scarlet letter.” He thrust forward.
    She slid her hands up his back, recalling that first time. Grasping him close, the