APPLE ROAD: B.C.

Five years "B.C.", which was Apple Press jargon for "Before Cherie", Dr. Walter Bramley used to bring his family up to his log cabin estate on North Apple Road on weekends and holidays. He and his wife Gloria had one son. David was turned nine the day Dr. Bramley told his wife that he had died.

"It's your fault, Gloria. Your frigidity killed our boy. I've done everything I could to help both of you but it has come to this. Your game of withholding yourself from me caused him to be born fragile. He lost his will to survive and passed in his sleep last night, my dear. He's to be buried after Mass at the priory tomorrow. They've taken him already. Edison is going to drive you to the town house. I want you out of my sight. I just might kill you with my bare hands if you don't go now. I think we both could use some space." Dr. Bramley hissed to his heavily medicated wife. Edison had already loaded Mrs. Bramley's suitcases in the limo.

"Marina," Gloria managed to murmur.

"Marina will be staying here with me. After all, I need someone to take care of me. In the meantime, Edison will look after you. He has your medication schedule. I'll check in on you in due time," Dr. Bramley dismissed his wife.

"Get this monster out of my sight, Edison," Bramley pushed the wheel chair towards his man servant.

Of course, none of what Dr. Bramley told his wife was true. Their son was not dead yet. He was in the pool house with Marina. Marina was fourteen when she was purchased by the Bramleys at a very good price when they drove their recreational vehicle to Mexico on a family vacation several years ago. He wanted Gloria out of his way while he remodeled the estate. He was giddy about the changes he was making and didn't want her sullen face to bring him down. The isolation of being locked in her room in their townhouse for a few months might loosen her up.

The new practice he was opening was inspired by the monastery several miles up the road from his estate. For a fee the monks rented out tiny wooden shacks and provided retreats consisting of a schedule of prayers, chores and meager meals designed to restore balance in the lives of lost souls. Bramley's version of a healing retreat included medications, severe sleep deprivation, fasting and sessions in a sauna and hot tub. 

The towering cement wall around his compound was also something the monks didn't have. He justified it by telling himself he didn't want his wealthy patients mauled by bears but the real reason was that from his experiments he knew that sleep deprivation was a powerful tool that could render a person to think there was nothing wrong with running down the road butt naked and administering bizarre soliloquies to strangers who would feel compelled to report them to the authorities. This stage of treatment was something that should not be observed by the general public.

Five years ago, when David was nine years old was also the time when Dr. Bramley started stocking up on medical supplies so that he could tend injuries that occurred to his patients during the marathon treatments without having to resort to clinics and emergency rooms that might be unduly alarmed by what they saw.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: THE APPLE PRESS

After dinner and slow dancing for hours, Lewis took Cherie home. He drove his green Triumph sports car uncharacteristically slow. He was disarmed by how comfortable the silences were between them. They were like an old married couple in their eighties. It was like they had already said everything. He glanced over at her soft wool skirt that fell two inches below her knees. Modest yet deadly. He thought of something that made him laugh softly to himself.

"What?" Cherie realized that she couldn't read his mind after all. 

"Your skirt. The famous plaid skirt. You wore it with platform sandals the day Skipper hired you and you delivered the paper to the monks that same afternoon," Lewis shook his head. 

"Who told you that?" Cherie wondered out loud.

"I arrived just as you were leaving. It became a topic of conversation around the water cooler the day you were hired," Lewis made light of the explosions.

If it wasn't for his crazy nephew, Skipper, it was likely Lewis never would have met Cherie. And she was the reason he'd stayed this long after Christmas. Usually he was gone the day after Christmas and didn't show up again until the next Christmas. He had been keeping Tina company during her coffee break when Skipper burst into the front office of The Apple Press with Samuel Masterson hot on his heals.

Samuel Masterson was the owner of the only daily newspaper in the township of Appleblossom. He had adopted Skipper when his sister Eve Momoday died. No one knew where Skipper's father ran off to and no one was eager to find out. 

Sam saved Skipper from foster care and big city life and put him to work at the paper with the rest of his boys. Lewis started roaming about that time and got a taste for travel. His little brother Craig had the Apple Road route and at first Lewis split his Appleblossom Highway route with Skipper, which was about 35 miles and studded with stops all the way down to the city in the valley below. Eventually have gave Skipper more and more of the route until finally Skipper was handling it all on his own. It had the stops that were too dangerous for a girl, honky-tonks, rest stops, liquor stores and even the churches and the public library were dangerous later on in the day when it was getting dark and fewer people were around.

The Apple Road route was a pain in the ass but it was necessary. The Appleblossom route was how the township attracted tourists to the Apple Road treasures when tourists got off the interstate for gas and discovered the charms of Appleblossom via the paper. The Apple Road route had just a handful of stops but they were where the news of many of the coming attractions generated. 

The monks at the priory would get a bundle of the paper and give the driver copy for the next day's paper. New batches of apple cider and apple jelly, festivals and other happenings were announced in The Apple Press. The Ranger's Station took a bundle and gave reports for the next issue as well. It was a 58 mile route with only a few stops. It took up too much time for Craig and Skipper and made the days longer than they had to be.

"Who is that girl driving off in my truck? Why is that girl driving off in my truck?" Sam shouted.

"She's taking the Apple Road route. Craig and I split the Appleblossom route. It's too much for one person," Skipper mumbled.

"You hired someone without asking me? We didn't advertise an opening or did we?" Sam raised both eyebrows.

"There was no help wanted ad. She was a walk in. He hired her on the spot," Tina chimed in.

"Who asked you!" Skipper barked at her.

"I'm going to the break room to get a doughnut. Let's get out of here, Lewis! Lewis?" Tina realized Lewis was no longer paying attention to her. He was the most handsome bachelor in the township and she had him all to herself until these two bozos came bashing up the moment.

"I did a good thing. We needed help. I hired help. You said I was your right hand man!" Skipper's cheeks turned bright red.

"He's your right hand LEG man. He hired her legs. I saw it with my own eyes!" Tina was starting to get angry too.

"Shut up!" Sam and Skipper shouted at Tina at the same time.

"The only reason you are mad at me is because you are still holding out hope that Lewis is going to stay this time and everything will go back the way it used to be. But you aren't going to stay, are you, Lewis?!" Skipper tried to spread the humiliation around.

"Let's go get a doughnut, Tina, my blood sugar just dropped," Lewis took Tina's arm and they disappeared.

"Run, Lewis, run! That's all you do! You should be an Olympic runner by now! Bring home the gold next time, why don't you..." Skipper was losing his mind.

"Simmer down, Skippy! This isn't about Lewis. This is about you hiring that girl without even talking to me. What if she is a truck thief and..."

"She's not a truck thief, Uncle Sam. She's renting old lady Belle's place by the railroad. She really needed a job. I called Miss Belle and she likes her. Everybody likes her and we need the help," Skipper defended his actions.

"Don't call me 'Uncle Sam'," Sam winced.

"Don't call me 'Skippy'," Skipper fired back.

"Ok, Skipper. I'm going to talk to you like you were my own son, ok?" Sam calmed down.

"Ok." Skipper let down his guard.

"You're and IDIOT!" Sam bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"That's how you talk to me? After what you just said? You wouldn't say that to Craig or, God forbid, your precious Lewis!" Skipper was deeply wounded.

"I damn well would too if either one of them was harebrained enough to hire a girl they had the hots for! If you fall in love with a girl who just happens to work where you work, that is fate. If you hire a girl BECAUSE you want her, that is tempting fate and it's not going to have a happy ending. She's off limits now, you do know that, don't you?" Sam lectured.

"Well, she really needed work and she can handle the route," Skipper lost a lot of steam.

"Then you could have helped her find a job some where else, you understand?" Sam softened.

"Yeah. I get it," Skipper humbly realized his mistake.

* * *

Lewis walked Cherie to her door.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh.

"Thank you. It was my pleasure," both his lips disappeared. It was like he was putting them away so they wouldn't try to kiss her or he was trying not to say something.

"What?" Cherie laughed.

"Old lady Belle said you came up here for the solitude, that you wanted to be alone," he said.

"So?"

"You messed up, didn't you? I mean, everybody in town is talking about you," he smiled.

"They'll forget about me tomorrow," she smiled back.

"I won't. Well, Good night, My Dear," he imitated Dr. Walter Bramley.

"Oh God! I was going to kiss you good night until you sounded like him!" she stepped inside and closed the door.

"I'll never do it again," he promised and knocked softly until she opened the door.

The kiss lasted until dawn. She kept telling herself it was just one night. He told himself the same thing.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: FAT ROCK AND TENDERFOOT

"She's going to love this. She's a lucky girl. You have good taste," Alice assured Lewis Masterson that he had made an excellent choice. Lewis could have told her that it was a replacement for a blood soaked sweater, so "lucky" was hardly applicable.

"I hope so," Lewis was agreeable. He watched the clerk lovingly fold the blush pink sweater, nestle it in tissue paper and then place it in a foil gift box stamped: "Marmee's Fashion Boutique". Marmee's was the only shop within 30 miles that sold delicate clothing. The clothing available at Ray Moon's Market was heavy and rugged, denim, fur, wool and leather.

Lewis showed up on Cherie's porch without calling her first. He was wearing a white cowboy hat that was comical because it was too small for his head. It was 9:00 pm. Cherie answered in her robe and flannel pajamas.

"I know you had a rough day. I just wanted to check in on you and take you to the hospital if you haven't regained your strength.  If I called, you'd just say you were ok. I had to see your face and I wanted to give you something to cheer you up. Can I put these in water for you?" Lewis showed her a bouquet of roses and the package from Marmee's.

"Come in. I can finally say I've 'single-handedly' done things," Cherie nervously laughed at her own joke.

"Have you single-handedly eaten dinner yet?" Lewis smiled and answered for her, "I didn't think so. How about a thick, juicy, steak? Get dressed. I'm taking you to Fat Rock for the best steak you ever had in your life. It's just three miles from here on North Apple Road. They also have the best country western music in the area."

Cherie emerged from her bedroom wearing a white fringe cowgirl shirt with pearl snap buttons, a baby-blue plaid a-line skirt and tan leather cowgirl boots. It occurred to her that she might never be able to remove her boots single-handedly.

"Nice hat," she said frowning at him. "Are you going to wear that hat all night?"

"It's yours, silly. Mine is in the car. It's black, of course. Yours is from Marmee's. This is from Marmee's too. Open it." Lewis put the hat on her head. It fit.

"This is very nice. Thank you, Lewis," Cherie admired the sweater.

"I didn't want you to have to slave single-handedly trying to get the blood stains out of the one you wore today, seeing as how blood makes you faint. You should just throw it away, you big sissy," Lewis helped her with her coat and locked her front door for her, since the hand she had injured was her left hand and from his observations, she was left-handed.

Cherie enjoyed her meal at the Fat Rock Steakhouse very much. Lewis got up to buy her a pack of her brand of cigarettes from the machine at the entrance to the Tenderfoot Saloon where most patrons went for cocktails before and after dinner. The manager of the establishment grabbed Lewis by the arm to find out what was up.

"Something wrong with your steak tonight? I usually have to wrestle you for the bone so you don't wolf it down and injure yourself," the manager studied Lewis' face for clues.

"I think I'm in love," Lewis shocked the manager with his honesty.

"Not you!" the manager was astonished.

"I'm gonna die. I don't want to be in love. She doesn't want to be in love. It's not our style. We're gonna die." Lewis shook his head and walked back to their table.

"They have a good band tonight. Let's grab a brandy. I promise to get you home before midnight," Lewis took her arm and guided her to the dance floor. They sipped brandy and the band kept playing slow songs. The manager sent the band a note instructing them to finish out the night with slow songs. The Masterson family were good customers and Fat Rock took good care of them.

Cherie knew she couldn't stop what was happening. It was like the day they went tube riding in the snow, only the heat was rising from his chest and sending a constant stream of warm air under her chin this time. She might faint again, but for a different reason. This was dangerous. She shouldn't be doing this. Her throat hurt. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing. It was the worst thing that could happen to a fugitive, chancing upon the love of your life like this.

~ To Be Continued ~