The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [33]
"Well, that's good news." I was surprised that she didn't sound happier about the diagnosis.
"I suppose. Looks like I'll be around longer than I thought. Wish I felt stronger, though." She had reached the nearest tree and stood next to it letting out oohs and ahs over the blossoms.
I fished for compliments by pointing out the pruned branches and fertilized soil, but she ignored me.
"These flowers certainly are glorious. The best thing about the whole orchard. I wouldn't care if there weren't any apples, as long as I could see this every spring."
That wasn't quite the response I was looking for. In fact, what she was saying made me feel a little discouraged. I liked the blossoms, too, but come on; the apples were the important things.
She inspected a few more trees and then said, "I'm glad I made it one more year. But all the excitement's worn me out. I've got to go sit down."
I probably should have walked her back to her house, but instead I let her stumble back alone while I returned to Amy and the others.
Amy had been watching me and Mrs. Nelson but didn't say anything when I walked up. She grabbed the weed whackers and insisted that I use the shovel I was usually stuck with. Sam and Michael took the weed whackers and started swinging enthusiastically. At first we all worked around the same tree until Michael came within inches of hitting Amy with a wild swing.
"Are you trying to kill me, you idiot? You almost hit me in the head!" she screamed.
"It's not my fault you're so close!" Michael yelled back.
"Why don't you go on to the next tree, then!" And with that, she split us up into teams of boys and girls. The boys were supposed to stay one tree ahead of the girls and concentrate on the largest weeds. After ten minutes of ducking Sam's and Michael's swings, I told Amy I was moving an extra tree ahead.
It was amazing how fast we worked when pacing each other. The boys constantly accused the girls of being too slow, and the girls replied that we were sloppy and, of course, dangerous. We hadn't shared a Shasta together for a couple of weeks, since the girls wouldn't come near us during manure days. During breaks it was nice to sit down together again and feel the spring sun on our arms and faces. Bees had begun to move from blossom to blossom, and it made the whole place feel full of energy. When we decided to quit working, I grabbed a branch full of flowers for my mom, thinking she would like them as much as Mrs. Nelson.
"Look what I picked for you, Mom," I said proudly when I found her in the kitchen.
"What is that supposed to be?" she asked, looking at the branch.
"It's a branch of apple blossoms. I thought it would be nice to put in a vase, kind of like flowers."
"Hmm ... thanks, sweetie." She pulled off a stem from the branch and placed it in a jar of water. "I just hope your father doesn't get the idea he can give me a branch off of a tree and call it 'flowers.'"
I cradled what remained of the branch and turned to go to my room.
"I hope for your sake it doesn't freeze and kill all your blossoms this year," she added casually.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked in a panicky voice.
"You know. If we get a late frost and it wipes out all the fruit for the year."
"No, I don't know! How does something like that happen?"
"Well, if it drops below freezing, I guess the blossoms just die before they turn to apples. Happens to the peaches and apricots too."
I looked at her in terror, but she kept her back to me while she talked, oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking inside my head.
"How do you know all this? When has it ever happened?" I demanded.
"I don't know personally about it, but everyone around here always talks about whether the fruit trees are going to freeze. I think it happened last year."
I backed out of the kitchen and stumbled back to my room as if I'd been kicked in the gut. I put my little branch of blossoms on the windowsill next to my bed and stared at it. Had I read anything about this? I couldn't quite remember. I hadn't written anything