Baby

hardly allowed for discretion. Hearing silence, he dialed the number for Sheriff Hudson. His secretary picked up the phone.
    “Put him on.” Robert waited impatiently.
    “What is it, Robert?” Sheriff Hudson’s booming voice filled the line making Robert hold the telephone away from his ear, wincing.
    “Just a reminder about our little appointment, the boys and I will be leaving in ten minutes. I should make it to the farm in about an hour and one half. I still do not understand why you need me there. The boys are quite capable of cleaning out the store house and dirt cellars on their own.”
    “Robert, I can’t go into it on the phone. Just humor me. You need to see this for yourself.”
    “All right; don’t be late.” Hanging up the telephone, Robert wondered at the tone of Sheriff Hudson’s voice. An unfamiliar note put him on alert. It took a lot to rattle Hudson. The last time he heard that tone in his voice, they were at the farm to take care of a little unpleasantness that his mind refused to dwell on … An uncontrollable shiver coursed through him. His soft manicured fingers absently picked at the paperwork on his desk. Realizing his mind wanted to dwell on the incident despite his desire; he jumped to his feet and hurried to the front door to await his sedan.
    ###
    Arriving at Lily Pond Road, Eli and Robert pulled into the dusty drive, followed by the well-used pickup truck they utilized for their illicit moonshine deliveries. Spotting Hudson’s black Ford, they pulled over and parked. Now that Netty’s disappearance no longer raised eyebrows, they no longer needed to sneak in on horses. Both Sheriff Hudson’s and Robert’s flashy vehicles were easily recognized.
    Piling out of the vehicles, the men lumbered toward the barn, casting nervous glances around the grounds. Most of them grumbled under their breath, grousing about the need to return, awaking lurid and macabre memories they tried vigorously to forget.
    “Glad you came. I can’t make any sense of what I found. Maybe you can. Follow me.” He led the group to the east side of the cabin. Fully protected from the hot summer sun as it disappeared under the western horizon, they spotted a stout and weathered wooden door built into the ground. Robert frowned in surprise, realizing they stupidly overlooked what probably contained the results of the late summer harvest. Hudson pulled up the door, letting sunlight expose row after row of Netty’s fantastic canned goods. The vibrant colors, red, yellow, green, purple, shining behind the glass of their protective jars as the sun sent glints of solar light back in their faces.
    Descending into the cellar, Robert saw rows and rows of magnificent fruit standing neatly in huge rattan baskets. The smells were overwhelming. Organic loaminess mixed with apple, pear and peach. He picked up a firm yellow white peach, the cool fuzz soothing under his masculine hands. Yes, hands . He needed both of them to hold one peach.
    “My God, this must weigh four pounds.” Robert held it to his nose, the scent overwhelming. Could it be any fresher if he just picked it from the tree? “I think my housekeeper could bake three pies from just this one peach. Have you tasted them?” Hudson nodded.
    “Sweeter and fresher than anything I’ve tasted in my life.”
    “Well, that is certainly curious.” Robert looked around, picking up a potato that must weigh a full three pounds. He walked the aisles, spotless and well organized. Hefting every new vegetable as he came to it, he estimated they all appeared to be five to six times their normal weight and size. Biting into an apple, he realized it would take three people to eat it; at least. How Netty produced results like these baffled them both.
    “What about the orchard? Have you checked it out? The trees that support fruit this size must be gargantuan.” He looked at Hudson, incredulous. Amazingly, Hudson’s stoic stare confirmed his investigation of the orchard. The trees complemented the fruit.
    “You’re not kidding me, are you?” Robert’s voice pensively accepted the unbelievable.
    “I reckon Netty and her creature possessed some kind of power. What other explanation can you think of? The popularity of her pies and meat cakes, loved by almost everyone in the town, confirms the unusual qualities of the fruit. What other explanation can there be? Need I remind you how she looked?”
    “I don’t know what this means, but she didn’t look anything