Chapter 6 - The Machine and the Memory
The sorting machine was a twenty-foot-long monster of green-painted steel, rubber conveyor belts, and mechanical sizers built in the mid-1980s. It sat in the dim, cool air of the packing house, covered in a thin layer of grey dust.
I pulled off the side panel covering the drive motor. The sharp, acrid smell of burnt copper and melted insulation hit my nose immediately.
"Motor's shorted," I said, shining my flash into the housing. "The main armature burned out because the drive belt was too tight, causing the bearings to seize."
June stood leaning against the wooden sorting table, watching me. "Can it be fixed?"
"The motor needs to be rewound or replaced," I said. "A new motor like this would cost six hundred dollars and take three days to ship."
"I don't have six hundred dollars," June said flatly. "And I don't have three days."
I looked at the motor's serial plate, then down at the pulley system. "I don't need a new electric motor. I have a three-horsepower gas engine sitting in the back of my truck. It's the auxiliary power unit for my hydraulic winch. If I fabricate a mounting bracket and align the drive pulley, we can run this sorter on gasoline until the harvest is finished."
June looked at me, a mixture of disbelief and cautious hope flickering in her eyes. "You can adapt a gas engine to run a three-phase conveyor?"
"I've made worse things work on remote construction sites in the middle of nowhere," I said with a faint smile. "I need two hours, some angle iron, and a welder."
"There's an old arc welder in Daniel's shop," June said. Her voice softened slightly on her late husband's name.
It was the first time she had mentioned Daniel's name without anger or panic.
I set down my flash. "June... can I ask you something?"
She went quiet, her posture stiffening slightly, but she didn't walk away. "About Daniel?"
"Yeah." I dragged an empty fruit crate over and sat down on it. "Teddy told me what happened on Orchard Road. But... I never asked how things were between you two."
June walked over to the wooden table and picked up a small, unblemished Red Delicious apple, turning it slowly in her hands.
"Daniel was a good man, Wesley," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the fruit. "When you left... I was broken. I felt like I was invisible. Daniel was there. He was kind, he was solid, and he loved this town. When my father got sick, Daniel stepped in and helped work the trees. He asked me to marry him when I was twenty-two."
She paused, taking a slow breath.
"Did you love him?" I asked quietly.
June looked up at me, her brown eyes completely honest.
"I loved him for staying," she said simply. "I loved him because he was safe, and because he gave me Ren. But... we both knew there was a room in my heart that was locked. A room where I kept the memories of a boy who used to tell me about the bridges he was going to build."
She set the apple back down on the table.
"Over the last three years before he died, Daniel got desperate," she continued, her voice heavy with remembered pain. "The logistics company was failing. He started taking loans from shady lenders, leveraging the farm without telling me. He thought he could fix it all with one big contract, but then the ice storm happened."
She looked at me, her gaze piercing right through me.
"He died trying to fix a mess he built himself," June said. "And for eighteen months, I've been trying to clean it up so my daughter doesn't lose her home."
I stood up from the crate. I walked over to her, stopping just inches away.
"You're not doing it alone anymore, June," I said. "I don't care about Vance. I don't care about the bank. We're going to get these apples sorted, we're going to hit that distribution deadline, and we're going to keep this land."
June looked up at me, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't pull away this time. She reached out, her small, cold hand sliding up my arm to rest against the side of my neck, her thumb softly brushing my jaw.
"Why are you doing this, Wesley?" she whispered. "Is it guilt?"
"It started as guilt," I admitted, reaching up to cover her hand with mine. "When I saw Ren at the gym, I wanted to fix what I broke. But now? Sitting here looking at you? It's not about guilt anymore."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about the fifteen years I wasted," I said. "And not wanting to waste another day."
Before she could answer, the sound of small, hurried footsteps echoed down the wooden hallway leading from the house.
Ren burst into the packing house, her shoes untied, holding a yellow piece of paper in her hand.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Ren cried out, her eyes wide with excitement. "A man in a blue car just left this at the front door!"
June took her hand off my neck, stepping back as Ren ran up to us. June took the paper from Ren's small hand.
As June read the document, the color completely drained from her face. Her hand began to shake violently.
"June?" I asked, stepping closer. "What is it?"
"It's from the county sheriff's office," June whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the overhead lights. "Vance didn't wait for Friday. He filed an emergency foreclosure injunction with the county court. They've scheduled an expedited asset sale for next Tuesday."
May you like
"Next Tuesday?" I shouted. "That's five days from now!"
"He claims the property is abandoned and unsafe," June said, tears welling in her eyes as she handed me the paper. "He used the leaning drying barn as evidence in his filing."
