Sunrise Point

take on another week.
    The work was physically demanding, but it was refreshing to a city girl. If she hadn’t been distracted by soreness and the fear of not being able to keep up, she would have been thoroughly into the experience. The apples smelled heavenly. The breeze wafting through the trees was refreshing, the sound of the swaying branches and rustling leaves as calming as a lullaby. And the industry all around her, plus the weight of her bag filled her with a sense of accomplishment. She loved the sacks full of apples adding to the bins, the forklift taking the full bins away, the watering and aerating going on all around her while she stood on her ladder and picked, the trucks taking crates and boxes of apples to vendors. She caught sight of Tom and Junior repairing the tall fence that surrounded the orchard, not once but twice, right in the same place. And every now and again she could hear people talking or laughing off in the distance and the occasional bark of that yellow dog.
    Nora wouldn’t trade her children for anything, not even for an easier life leading up to their births, but if she weren’t a single mother constantly worried about money, this job outdoors in the beauty of a northern California Indian summer would seem like a gift. It was September and the afternoons were still warm.
    A couple of days into her second week, when she arrived at the juncture of the road from Virgin River and Highway 36, there sat a big white truck. And outside the cab, leaning against the driver’s door, was Mr. Tom Cavanaugh. His long legs were casually crossed in front of him and he was looking down; he appeared to be cleaning his nails with a pocketknife.
    She looked at him for a moment. Appreciated him. It seemed such a distant memory when she’d gotten mixed up with Chad. Chad had seemed like such a catch, slated for the big time. Now, looking at Tom, she saw stability and success, not to mention power and beauty. Yes, he was a very beautiful man. And she wondered what it must feel like to be the kind of girl someone like him would want.
    She shook it off. Then she put her head down and walked on by.
    “Hey,” he called.
    She turned back. She tried a small smile. “’Morning,” she said.
    “Where are you going?” he asked.
    “To work,” she said.
    “Well, jump in. I’ll give you a lift. Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.
    “I have absolutely no idea. I don’t need a ride. I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
    “I know, Nora. Humor me.”
    “I don’t think it looks good,” she said. “Getting a ride with the boss. What will the others think?”
    “There are no others yet,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re always the first one to get to the orchard. Come on. No strings.”
    She thought about it for just a second, but there was really no way to refuse a kindness. Or whatever this was. She walked around the front and got in the passenger seat.
    “How are the muscles and blisters?” Tom asked.
    “Excellent,” she said, surprise lacing her response. “Nothing hurts. I’m keeping the protection on my hands and, as you can see, wearing the latex gloves, but I can’t believe how quickly I healed up. You should consider one of those late-night infomercials. Your magic goo and ginsu knives.”
    He laughed at her. “Find yourself watching a lot of late-night TV, do you?”
    “A long time ago,” she said. “I haven’t had a TV since before my children were born.”
    “Ah, one of those fussy mothers—no TV to poison the little minds?”
    “Not so virtuous. I can’t afford a TV—that’s a luxury way beyond me. But who can forget ginsu knives? I used to love those demonstrations. It wouldn’t have surprised me if fingers went flying. But who knows—maybe they did and the icky stuff was cut. No pun intended,” she added with a laugh.
    He stared straight ahead as he drove for a few moments. Then he turned down the long drive into the orchard. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Nora. I’m going to wait for you where the road from town meets 36 and give you a lift. And I’ll drop you off there after work.”
    “I told you, I don’t mind—”
    “I know, you don’t mind walking. I give you a lot of credit for that—you have gumption. But I’d like you to reserve your energy for work. And it’s not one hundred percent safe out here at dawn and dusk. I’m not saying it’s dangerous, but there are wildlife issues.”
    “I can run,” she said. “Seriously,