Page 21 of Threat of Danger
The largest vat stood in the middle of the room, the filter on one side. Two other vats—smaller and older—stood in the back. Firewood and buckets and jugs gobbled up most of the space. Empty mason jars waited in crates. The sweet scent of maple syrup filled the air, drawing her in like a siren song.
The only thing missing was her father, Burt Taylor, bending over the fire.
Tears sprang to Jess’s eyes. She blinked them back as her gaze settled on Chuck Hernandez.
The sugarhouse foreman—nearly as close to Jess as another father—had a shock of gray hair and a short beard. He wore a pair of old denim overalls and a denim shirt under that. Mud covered his Timberland boots. He’d probably been going in and out all morning.
He looked as lean as ever, never had an extra ounce on him despite eating maple syrup with nearly everything, including his morning coffee. A hardworking man, when he wasn’t sugaring, he was putting roofs on houses. He’d been raising his granddaughter, Kaylee, from the time she’d been a toddler, ever since Chuck’s only son and daughter-in-law had died in a car accident.
Jess was suddenly holding her breath. What if Chuck was mad at her for staying away this long? What if he didn’t understand? Chuck lived for his family, and she’d left hers.
But even as she thought that, and how much rejection would hurt, he looked up and broke into a smile that lit up the whole barn. He rushed to greet her, still as spry as he’d ever been, his arms held wide.
“Thank God you’re here.” His arms closed around her. He held her for several seconds before letting her go to take a better look. “I was going to go up to the house to welcome you home.” He’d come from Mexico as a child, but didn’t have the slightest accent. “I popped in last night, but Zelda said you went to bed early.”
He held Jess at arm’s length and grinned from ear to ear. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know that?”
“You too.” An unexpected surge ofGod, it’s good to be homewent through her and caught her off balance. It wasn’t a reaction she’d expected from herself. She gathered her wits.
“How is Kaylee?”
“Sassy. Seventeen. Driving now. Can you believe it? I have two rosaries hanging from the rearview mirror, and I might add a third.” He shook his head. “She borrowed my truck to go to town for some shopping. See all this gray hair?” He pointed to his head. “She gave me every strand.”
“You were gray the last time I saw you.”
Chuck grumbled. “You came back just to take her side and give me even more grief?”
Jess grinned as she glanced around. “How is sugaring?”
“As crazy as ever. But at five percent!” His face lit up as he pulled a hydrometer from his shirt pocket and waved it around.
At 5 percent sugar content, they needed only about forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup.
“The lightest, most beautiful amber you’ve ever seen,” he bragged.
Jess might have been away for a while, but she still remembered that for maple syrup, the lighter the color, the better. Light golden amber was the Holy Grail.
She felt herself caught up in the excitement, an involuntary reaction. Maybe sugaringwasin her blood. “Hit the first run just right?”
Chuck puffed out his chest. “We like to think we know what we’re doing around here.”
In the fall, nutrients went from the trees’ crowns to the roots for the winter. In the spring, sugar-rich sap was sent from the roots to the new buds at the top of the branches. Tap the trees too early and the tree healed the hole before the sap began to truly flow. Tap the trees too late and the first sweet rush of sugar had already gone up to the leaves. Knowing when to tap was an art and a science.
“What else is new?” she asked.
He thought for a second; then his chest puffed out. “I’m president of the Versquatchers.”
Versquatchers were what the local Sasquatch Club called Vermont Sasquatch enthusiasts to distinguish themselves from people who hunted Bigfoot in the Adirondacks and other places in the country.
Jess grinned. She’d forgotten about the Versquatchers. “Congratulations!”
Chuck gave a modest wave, but he beamed all the same. “Most important thing is, you’re home. Zelda said you’re staying three weeks. Why not stay until the end of the season? We could use the help.”
He wasn’t the kind of guy to take the first offer on anything without at least trying to negotiate.
Jess shook her head. “You could run this operation blindfolded.”
A sheepish grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “We want you here anyway.”
