Offices and Orchards (A New Adult Sweet Romance)

Chapter 17

Neither Harvey, nor Amber heard anything from Autumn that week, neither that weekend, and neither the following week. When Harvey asked Derek Chan about her, he got the same answer that Amber had given him: personal leave, adding also not to worry about it, she was fine and would be back soon. But Harvey couldn't help himself. And everyday and every evening he thought about her, worried about her.
During the second week without Autumn, he had ended up in a small add-on project from an existing customer, for the purposes of improving the cash position of the company. This entailed making sure the client had more cash in the bank at the end of each reporting period, rather than hypothetical cash. It meant making sure the client was paying their own bills as late as possible, and having their customers pay as quickly as possible. Although it sounded so simple and easy, a lot of companies did not operate this way, and needed support developing convincing ideas for getting the customers to pay earlier and other measures to save money. For this project, the new processes had already been established and implemented so now they were in the follow-up stage, meaning that S and W's role was supervisory at this point. Even though it was scheduled to last a few more weeks, everything was proceeding smoothly so far, and Harvey's work week was relatively stress free: for the first time since he had started at S and W. But he was going absolutely crazy with worry. Every day he thought about going to her house, and making sure she was ok. But she wasn't answering his emails or his numerous calls so he wasn't sure what to do.
He found his old blog.
'I have been an apple picker for many seasons now. In that time I have learned a great deal about the apple, how it is grown, tended and harvested. I have also spent countless hours out among the apple trees, and for many of them I was on my own, solitary which has given me the opportunity to think more about the significance of this fruit, how it has worked its way into the fabric of our lives. During these seasons, the apple harvest has also worked its way into my own life. If I was not out in the trees picking, climbing ladders, listening to tractors off in the distance hauling off full bins of apples, I would feel like a part of me was missing. I know this might sound cliched, but an orchard in the fall seems like the only place that feels like home. I don't keep a journal, I never have been very good at that, but I wanted a way to share some of my experience as an apple picker, its "culture" you might call it, as well as the art of the pick.
The apple has made its way into our literature, mythology, and cookbooks not to mention our bodies, for centuries upon centuries. I would love to explore this more, and I hope to learn as much by doing this as will anyone who chooses to read what I write. Through my stories and journal keeping I also hope to give a glimpse into the lives of fruit pickers or more broadly food growers and harvesters, people who have been largely marginalized and forgotten, seen by many as leading alternate lives. As with an apple seed, I do not know exactly where this blog will lead, or what will come from it, but I hope it is something that is compelling, slightly nostalgic at times, informative and entertaining.
And then, all of a sudden on Thursday evening, his phone rang. He took a deep breath, wished it to be her and then picked up the phone.
"Hi, it's Autumn," she said quietly.
"Autumn, oh my goodness. Are you ok?" His blood pressure shot up to a thousand.
"Hey yeah, I'm just fine, sorry about going MIA. Something came up," that's what she always said. "I'll be back tomorrow."
"I'm so relieved, we were all so worried. You sure you're ok?" His heart rate still over 100 beats per minute.
"All taken care of now. I'm actually calling to ask you something," she had learned that in order to move on from the thing she didn't want to talk about, she just had to ask a question about something else.
"Sure. Anything at all."
"Remember what you asked me in your car the last time we went out?"
"You mean, if you wanted to come to the farmhouse with me?"
"Yeah. Is that offer a standing invitation?"
"Of course it is!"
"Then can we do that this weekend?"
"Sure. I'll come get you on Saturday morning." She could hear the smile in his voice and she would do as she always did, pretend as if the last two weeks hadn't happened.
On the next day, on the Friday of the second week, after nearly two weeks of nothing, Autumn showed up to work, and got back into it, as if she had never been gone.