“They bounded away without even seeming to notice her or the girls.Gretchen gasped and some of the apples spilled out of her apron. The little girl had turned up the edges of her apron, forming a basket. She’d filled it with the bruised, rotting apples that littered the ground, following Annalisa’s instructions not to leave behind anything. They would use every apple in some way. They would dry some and press the inedible ones into cider. She would even use the cores for making vinegar.“The deer... are in a hurry, aren’t they?” Gretchen bent to retrieve the apples that had fallen but in the process dumped more on the ground.Annalisa looked up through the thick covering of trees. The sky had turned gray—the same dirty color as her washing water on laundry day. The heat was as stifling as it had been all summer. At least in the glade, the shade had provided some coolness.“More story, Mama?” Gretchen straightened and followed Annalisa’s gaze to the sky.Unease shimmied up Annalisa’s backbone.But she peeked at Sophie asleep in her sling, then forced her attention back to the apple picking and the fairy tale she’d been telling Gretchen.Suddenly the brush crackled again, this time with more force.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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