Page 66 of Wild Scottish Rose

“Shona, is that you?” Derek called from behind a fence, holding a hand up to shade his eyes as he waved at me. Perfect, I wouldn’t have to go inside and make small talk with the family. I was feeling peopled out from the trip here.Or maybe that should be gnomed out…

Sutton Orchards was a favorite in the area. Not only did they have the best apples at the market, but during the autumn, they’d have apple-picking, bonfires, and hot cider. Usually, the car park would be full this time of year. Looking around, a pang of sadness hit my heart. There was a lot of tradition for people to enjoy here. This was more than just about Derek’s family making money for the winter.

“Hiya, Derek. How are you getting on? Edith told me the orchard’s not been producing.” Why dance around the glaringly obvious issue at hand. I came to lean on the other side of the fence, shaking Derek’s hand. In his early fifties, with a ruddy complexion and a smile that warmed his eyes, Derek was the kind of man who helped little old ladies cross the street and talked gently to his trees.

“I can’t make heads or tails of it,” Derek said, shakinghis head, his eyes heavy with sadness. Turning, we both studied the wide expanse of seemingly healthy trees.

Except that, not a single one bore fruit.

“Mind if I have a look around?” I asked, nodding toward the gate. “I’m sure you’ve thought of most things, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to get another set of eyes on it.”

Magickal ones at that.

“Please, be my guest. I could use any and all help I can get. I’ve tested the soil, looked for disease, tested the water, used different fertilizer, looked for pests…I’m at an absolute loss. Conditions should have been great for a healthy harvest this year. Leaves are green, bark is healthy.” Derek shook his head, tugging at the brim of the cap he wore. “I wish I knew what was going on.”

“Well, I’ll take a wee wander. Happy to go alone if you’re busy.”

“By all means. I’ve got to run in and take a call with a supplier just now. We’ll have to renegotiate my contract for next year if I can’t deliver.”

“I hope that won’t be the case.”

Derek left me and headed inside, and I wandered through the rows of trees, sunlight filtering through their branches. When I was far enough away from the house, I knelt and put the bag on the ground for Gnorman to clamber out. He stood for a moment, hands on his hips, sniffing the wind.

“Good air here,” Gnorman said.

“Trees look healthy. The fruit buds started”—I pointed to the branches—“but then they didn’t keep going. What happened here?”

I also wondered if—and that was a big if—I was able to help, would the potential accelerated growth set off alarm bells for Derek? I had to weigh the pros and cons of helping carefully. Hearing a car door slam, I peeked around a trunk to the car park where Derek’s wife was getting their baby out of the car, two other young ones running in circles close by. I pressed my lips together. They were a nice family, always donating when they could, providing extra apples to food banks in the area. I’d never heard a bad word said about them. Reasonable prices, helpful people, and a bonus to the community. I might have to push my worries for my own reputation aside and just do what I could to help.

We carried on, weaving through the trees, Gnorman having fallen silent as we tried to get a vibe for what was going on here. When we reached the edge of the orchard, we were met with another fence and a narrow dirt road on the other side of it. The trees on this end looked particularly unhappy, with the least amount of fruit buds on their branches. Contemplating what could have happened, I reached out and pressed my hands to the bark of one.

Pain flashed through me.

Fear.

Gasping, I pulled my hands away and looked down at them and then up at the tree.

“Gnorman?”

“Aye?” Gnorman poked his head around the trunk of another tree.

“Can you talk to the trees? Because when I just put my hands on them, I got like…like they’re in pain? Or scared? Or is that just me projecting?”

“Let me see. Give a hand up, would you?” Gnormannodded to the tree, and I bent and picked him up, lifting him as far as he would go, and he scrambled nimbly up the trunk until all I could see were small flashes of his red cap among the leaves. Turning once more, I scanned the small dirt road. No traffic came by, but there was a cluster of small homes at the end of the road.

“That’s me ready to come down,” Gnorman called, and I edged back to the trunk, lifting my hands as high as they would go so Gnorman could slide down into my palms. I moved with him to the fence, placing him gently on the railing, and he swung his legs over, an angry look on his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Och, there’s negative energy here all right. A curse.”

I gasped.

“A curse? Who cursed it?”

“Well, maybe I’m exaggerating. Stupid boys,” Gnorman grumbled. Turning, he lifted his chin in the direction of the houses at the end of the road. “Group of lads. Using the trees for sling shot practice. It’s happening so often now, the trees are hurting and scared. Feel like they’re under attack. If you don’t have happy trees, you don’t have happy fruit.”

“Those little shites,” I said, straightening my shoulders and moving to the gate.

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