The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [35]
The next three days it rained and even sprinkled during the night. It made working outside so muddy that we called it quits after an hour. Everyone was thrilled. I was thrilled it had stayed above forty degrees.
***
On Thursday morning the sky was a deep blue, and the moment I stepped outside I could tell the temperature had dropped. We were able to get back into the orchard that afternoon, but I was terrified at what might happen during the night.
"What do they say the temperature will be?" I asked my dad later, not daring to look at the TV.
He saw my worried face and hesitated. "They said thirty-one, son, but I don't want you to get all worked up. They're hardly ever right, and we're usually a couple of degrees warmer than Farmington."
I tried to sleep but kept popping out of bed to pace the floor between my door and window. Every hour or so, I tiptoed into the kitchen and called the phone number that reported the time and temperature. At 3:30 a.m., the voice said thirty-two degrees. I prayed some more. I felt absolutely helpless. I wished I had three hundred blankets or tarps to wrap around the trees. Why had we picked up those branches? We could have made bonfires to warm up the whole place.
My mom had to come and wake me up the next morning, and I could feel I had bit my lip raw. At school I could barely keep my head off the desk. When I got home, I scanned the local paper looking for the overnight temperature. It listed thirty-one.
"What's wrong?" asked Amy as I joined my cousins in the orchard. "You look like you're going to throw up."
"Nothing!" I said, trying my best to appear cheerful. I didn't want everyone else worrying and giving up. For the rest of Friday and all of Saturday, I kept fairly quiet and a couple of trees ahead of the others, knocking manure off the biggest weeds and then attacking them with my shovel. I was thinking of what I would say to everyone if I had to break the news about a frozen crop. There had been more and more blossoms blooming every day, so that every tree looked like it was coated in pink snow. I had no idea if this was a good or bad sign.
It was late afternoon, and the others were discussing whether or not you could be killed by a bee's sting as bees buzzed around our heads. "...I'm just telling you what my teacher said. Some people are extra allergic, and even one sting can kill them," stated Lisa matter-of-factly.
"But bees don't sting as bad as black widows, and even they won't kill you," replied Sam.
Amy wasn't paying attention and was singing along to Duran Duran on the radio.
"Why don't we call it a day?" I announced.
"Really? Already?" asked Lisa.
"Why? Aren't we going to finish the other trees?" asked Jennifer.
"Yeah, but you've been working so hard that I think you deserve a break," I explained.
"Sounds good to me," said Amy, throwing down her hoe but giving me a squinting stare.
Something in me couldn't go on anymore without knowing.
***
Before church the next day, I wandered through the orchard examining branches. They were still covered in blossoms, but I didn't know the difference between a live blossom and a frozen one. I shook a few trees to see if anything fell off. The pink petals hung on stubbornly.
As soon as Brother Brown came into our Sunday school class, I got up and walked toward him. "Did they make it?" I asked very seriously. I could see he instantly knew what I was talking about. I could feel the worry written all over my face.
The side of his mouth raised up as if involuntarily starting to grin. "Well, I think they pulled through."
"Really?" I replied breathlessly. I wanted to shake his hand or hug him. Instead, I sat in the seat closest to where he was standing.
***
The temperature rose steadily after that week, rarely dipping into the thirties again. The blossoms eventually fell off the trees in a great shower that covered the ground in pink. They left tiny round balls behind that were the start of apples.
Their appearance made the orchard feel more serious, as if spring's allusions were