COME HARVEST HOME
by Elizabeth Bailey

Red spattered trees dotted the churchyard, ringing the stone marked graves with autumn splendour. Here and there a wind-caught leaf clung to the faded letters of a name long gone. Released, it slid away to freedom, dancing in the breeze like the spirit of the tomb below.

And a voice cried out anew, in the sweet sound of a new-born baby's first lament…

It was dark inside the little church, but Marah's eyes had become accustomed. From the baskets ranged along the front pews, she selected the last of the golden bunches and laid it tastefully over a huge marrow donated from Mrs Huggett's wondrous vegetable garden.

'That's nice, dear,' approved Lady Gardiner. 'Pity there aren't more of those bananas. Nice splashes of yellow they make over the green.'

Marah stood back from the altar, rubbing her hands into the ache in the small of her back. It was always her back these days.

'You've done too much,' scolded Lady Gardiner. 'Now, didn't I say you should leave it to me?'

'I'm all right, Eleanor,’ said Marah. ‘Doctor Fellowes keeps telling me I need to exercise.'

'All this bending, though.'

'I'm enjoying it, honestly.'

She passed a critical eye over the array of fruit and vegetables dominating the steps of the altar. It was not quite how she had envisioned it, but the splotches of brightness were pleasing in amongst the greenery.

The font was more successful, she felt, turning look at the old stone plinth. A shaft of light threw a warm glow over the harvest display. Sprays of tomatoes on the plant, and twining fronds of fat podded peas hung over a colourful pyramid at the base.

'Charming,' said Eleanor Gardiner, following Marah’s gaze. 'Quite charming.'

Marah thanked her, and went back to the baskets. Someone had brought nuts. There ought to be a scattering of nuts.

She picked up a handful of walnuts and began filling spaces. The shells were almost white. They must have come from the tree in someone's garden. It was a long time since she had eaten fresh walnuts.

An image crept into her mind. Joel laughing. Joel, green eyes glinting at her as he cracked the nuts in strong white teeth, the unruly wave of dark hair falling across his forehead.

'You'll break your teeth,' Marah had protested.

'They're fresh. You can't break your teeth on fresh walnuts. Too soft.' He had leaned across. 'Like you. Soft and sweet to the taste.'

His kiss had melted her bones. They had lain there under the tree, all among the fallen walnuts, and the world had flown away.

Like Joel. Flown away, far away.

Marah's heart skidded as she shot back to the present. An abrupt pain jerked. She straightened, clasping her stomach. Vaguely, she heard Lady Gardiner's concerned clucking.

'Oh, no. My dear, sit down. Come along, take my arm.'

Guided to a pew, she sank down, breathing unsteadily. The pain had eased, but she felt a little faint. Eleanor became brisk.

'Right, you're going back to your cottage. Shall I send for Fellowes? Really, you should never have been left on your own in this condition.'

'It is not Joel's fault.' Marah heard the snap in her voice, and tried to mend it. 'He had to go. We made the decision together.'

'With the result that you're quite alone at a critical time, and - '

'I'm not alone. I have you within a few hundred yards and Mrs Huggett practically next door. Everyone has been very kind. Not a day goes by when someone doesn't call.'

'It's not the same.'

Which was undeniable. Marah said nothing. She had hoped, desperately, counting the days. But Joel had not come back. Perhaps she had been stupid to tell him to go. He had wanted to wait, make sure she was all right first. Only Marah knew they couldn't afford to wait. Things had got out of hand. It was the only sensible thing to do. He had sent money, and she had been grateful.

She allowed Lady Gardiner to help her to the church door, but no further. 'You need to finish, Eleanor. It's only a step to the cottage, and I'm perfectly all right now.'

'Well, make sure you lie down when you get there.'

Marah promised. 'But don't worry. I'll be here to do the flowers next time as usual. The flowers will be easier.'

'Highly unlikely you'll be in any condition to be doing flowers by then, my dear. But we'll see.'

Marah did not argue. Eleanor was probably right. She was getting more tired by the day. Even now, her feet dragged as she trudged her ungainly weight through the short cut across the graveyard.

A sharp breeze made her catch her cardigan more tightly about her, as the flyaway curtain of her copper curls was lifted from her shoulders. Reaching the shelter of the dappled trees, she unlatched the garden gate.

A shadow moved in the lee of the cottage. Marah looked up. Her heart stopped.

Joel was waiting outside the front door, the braided cap tilted, as he always wore it, set jauntily on one side of his dark head. The blue serge coat was open, and the brass on his uniform glinted underneath.

The familiar smile dawned, and Marah's pulse skittered out of control. Instinct urged her to run to him. But her legs were jelly, and the heavy burden of her body held her still. Her arm came up. One wavering hand reached out to him.

She saw him move, and the image blurred.

And then he was there. Strong arms slipped about her, the green eyes were above hers, the smile bittersweet upon his mouth.

'Don't cry, my love. God, how I've missed you.'

Marah devoured his features. Her breath was stopped in her throat. She reached up, tracing the line of his cheek with one shaky finger.

Joel caught her close and kissed her lips, and a sob rose up in her throat.

'I did not think you'd make it. I thought they wouldn't let you come.'

'Compassionate leave. I flew back this morning, and came straight here.'

It was impossible to take it in. He had come. Joel had come. She was no longer alone.

At last she smiled at him. 'I can't believe it.'

Joel kissed her again, and slid his hand down to caress the mound, high and taut at her womb. 'I wouldn't want to miss this harvest. And it looks like I'm only just in time.'

Marah gave a gurgle of laughter that broke in the middle, and buried her face in his shoulder…

The glow of autumn faded as night crept over the graveyard. Dark flutterings gentled in the still air, and the soft cry of the newborn filtered into the wind.