Applegate Farm: A Tale of the Antrim Cycle, #2

By N.W. Moors

Irish legend in a sweet romance story.
Running away from her fiance, Jane Baxter is hiding out at her aunt's farm in the small town of Antrim, Maine. She doesn't expect to find friendship with the surly farmhand - or to find him attractive.
Henry Maxwell has secrets of his own, but he's drawn to Jane despite her city ways.
There are strange happenings at the farm, and it's up to Jane and Henry to solve the mystery that involves creatures from Irish legend, some magic, and an unexpected romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunday Morning Publishing
• Release date: May 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533421159

N.W. Moors

N.W. Moors lives in Portland, Maine, the land of lobster and pine trees. She grew up in Connecticut and retired north(it's nice along the coast in winter). She's a voracious reader and avid traveler - she loves to visit Great Britain and Ireland. Researching trips meant that she tries to learn as much about the area as possible and listen to great Celtic music. She's also a knitter and hiker/walker with two cats(the cats don't walk). The Black Swans is a 2015 IndieB.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree, 2015 Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards Finalist, and 2015 Shortlist for Drunken Druid Book Awards. The Pellucid Effect is a 2018 IndieB.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree She truly appreciates you sharing this adventure with her. She will continue to write about magic, love, and the small town of Antrim, Maine. Please leave reviews and like her Facebook page or follow her blog or twitter feed for further updates.  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009322893083 Twitter: https://twitter.com/AntrimCycle Website: http://antrimcycle.com/ She also writes Regency Romance under the name Jerusha Moors.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

D arn, darn, double darn, Jane Baxter swore, looking down at the tires of her small compact car, buried up to the tops of the wheel wells in mud. The road wasn’t marked very well – truthfully, not at all – but she was sure this long dirt lane was the driveway to her aunt’s farm. Jane had been up and down the main road, and this was the only possible entrance she could find.

The weak sun shining through the dense trees lining the rutted, dirt driveway fooled her into thinking the weather was warmer than it actually was until she turned a corner and broke through the thin crust skimming the mud hole. Sure, if it had been raining, Jane might have been more cautious, but it was spring, though honestly, she could still see snow under the bushes on the side of the road.

Jane shuffled her feet, her high-heeled boots making a squishing sound where they sank into the mud. She looked around, but the woods were quiet with only the occasional chirping of birds. Looking up the drive showed only more trees, but she knew behind her was a long walk back to the road and miles further to the town of Antrim. She sighed. Maybe this wasn’t the driveway to her aunt’s farm, but a logging road to nowhere, leading her further into the woods where she’d wander with wild animals and Bigfoot and... All right, enough of that, she muttered to herself. I might just be a city girl, but I can certainly walk up a little way and see if I can find a house, and if not, I can just come back to the car and figure something else out.

It was already late afternoon and the day was cooling down, so Jane got her fleece pullover out of the back seat, slung her purse over one shoulder, and started off, trying to keep to the edge where the ground seemed more solid. The pointed high heels on her boots still sank into the soft dirt and branches on the bushes scratched the soft leather. Jane figured the expensive boots would be a dead loss by the time she finished her trek. Still, they protected her good pair of skinny jeans somewhat.

Jane had already lost sight of the car, and the sun was under a cloud, so she stopped to put the pullover on. As her head popped through the neck of the fleece, a large bug attacked her nose. She swung her purse wildly, trying to keep the nasty thing away, and overbalanced. Her boot heels had dug in during her stop, and Jane twisted, but ended up face down in the road, planted right in the middle of a muddy hole. She put both hands down to push herself upright and shoved too hard. Her bottom ended up in another watery rut, soaking right through to her underwear.

Pulling up her clean fleece was the only option Jane had to wipe her face since mud covered her hands. Water dripped down from her hair, and she was thoroughly soaked, dirty, and miserable.

Darn, darn, triple darn, she sputtered again.

She was still trying to push herself back up without further damage when a loud crashing from further back in the trees drew her attention. Jane stiffened immediately, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Whatever it was, it sounded big — enormous even. Sasquatch? Bear? Oh, man, this isn’t good, she thought. With her boots buried in the mud, and her as stuck as Jimmy Hoffa in concrete at Giant’s stadium, Jane clutched her purse, her only weapon, ready to throw it at whatever was about to attack her.

A large black animal burst out of the trees, and Jane yelped and fell back on her arse and into the mud. The dog, maybe a Newfoundland that outweighed her by fifty pounds, stopped and stared at her, tongue hanging out and dripping drool.

Screech! Come back here, a high-pitched voice called from further back in the trees. Jane could hear someone breaking through the brush. Meanwhile, the dog sat down, head tilted to one side as it watched her struggle up to a squat again.

A young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, pushed through the bushes and stopped, hands on his hips as he stood next to the dog. Screech, what did you find? He ignored Jane and scratched the dog’s furry head. What a good dog you are.

Hello? Jane decided that this must be a good turn of events. Obviously, the boy wasn’t alone out here in the woods and must live nearby. He could help her.

He dressed in huge rubber boots that were too big, bib overalls, and a thick wool sweater covered with burrs and twigs. His dirty blonde hair stuck up in a cowlick in the back. Jane tried a smile even though she thought it probably looked grotesque through the mud dripping from her nose. My name is Jane, and I got my car stuck in the mud. She pointed behind her.

Do you live around here? Do you have a phone? My cell doesn’t seem to get any bars around here, and I need to call someone for a tow truck.

Are you stuck, too? the boy asked, looking down at the dog. He lifted his head and looked at her sideways, his eyes sliding past her down the lane.

Jane shook her head as she realized he was talking to her. Well, no. She tried to sound relaxed as if this was nothing and she was just resting in the muck, having a casual look around. The truth was she was trapped in the mud unless she took her boots off and crawled down the road in her socks. Or maybe I might need a little bit of help. What’s your name?

Everyone calls me Sunny, but my real name is Sunshine. The boy rubbed behind the dog’s ears, and the dog loved it, pushing his head back against the kid’s hand. The boy, Sunny, hadn’t looked at her, but he wasn’t rude. It was as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes and he was polite about not pointing it out to her. Was she the Emperor in this scenario? Maybe just overwrought, she decided.

Do you live around here, Sunny?

He turned and pointed up the road. I live up on the farm. Sunny turned back and at last looked straight at her. Whatchya you doin’ here? he asked in a singsong voice

I’m visiting my aunt at Applegate Farm, and I got lost. Jane’s ankles ached from the cold water seeping into her boots. Do you know Lavinia Goodwin?

Sunny scrunched up his face, thinking hard. Do you mean Viney Goodwin?

Yes, Jane sagged in relief. That’s my aunt. Aunt Lavinia.

She’s up at the farm, the boy said and finally smiled, a gap from a missing tooth showing on one side. I can take you there. It’s not much further up the road.

He confused Jane. But I thought you lived on the farm. Do you live with my aunt? On her farm? She thought she remembered that Lavinia lived at Applegate Farm by herself according to her father, but Hiram Baxter never spoke much about his sister-in-law or anyone in Jane’s mother’s family. Jane knew he kept in touch with them and passed on information about her, but he always changed the subject when Jane asked questions about them.

Maybe Sunny’s family helped at the farm. Jane was vague on Aunt Lavinia’s life since she hadn’t seen her since she was a small girl. The letter she had received requesting her to visit her relative had been too timely for Jane to think about much else regarding her aunt. Jane knew her aunt had never married and lived on a farm in Antrim, Maine, but not much else. She hoped to remedy some of her knowledge with this trip.

Ayuh, Sunny replied. He didn’t volunteer much information, a stereotypical Yankee, Jane thought. She thought children usually couldn’t stop chattering, but then she did have much experience with them.

She stood up again, swaying just a little, and managed to wiggle out of her boots. There was no way she was digging them out of the muck. Jane was dirty, tired, and cold, and she just wanted to get to a warm house and then into a hot bath. The cold water soaked her socks through, but she didn’t even care anymore, knowing she was close to her aunt’s house. The dog jumped up and shook himself off, adding to the muck on Jane. Then the boy led them up the road. Jane clutched her purse and gave one last glance back at her boots, leaning drunkenly against each other in the mud.

I don’t know why you didn’t take the road by the lake, Sunny walked beside the big dog, his hand entwined in the dog’s long fur. That’s how we get in and out from the farm in mud season.

The man in town who gave me directions said to go this way, Jane answered. Wait, there’s another way in? A better, drier way?

Sunny ignored her question, just stopped and looked back at Jane trudging behind him. He must have known you were a Flatlander.

Flatlander? What do you mean, Flatlander? Jane was indignant. I spent all my summers in Maine at our house on the coast when I was a girl. And my mother was born in Maine. I’m not a Flatlander.

Oh, summer folk, Sunny said in the same dismissive tone he had spoken earlier when he talked about Flatlanders. He skipped ahead to catch up with the dog. Jane was fuming. Her hair was plastered to her skull, and something slimy was sliding down between her breasts, all this because she was summer folk? Just wait until she got back to town and found that pimple-faced teenager at the gas station who gave her directions. She’d tell him a thing or two.

Sunny weighed so little that even with his boots he could stay on top of the mud if he kept free of the ruts and puddles. Jane tried to remain in the middle where the ground was a little higher. Just when she thought they would never reach the farm, the dog barked. It looked like Sunny was right, the trees were thinning up ahead. The dog, Screech, broke free and ran ahead, and Sunny ran after him leaving Jane to plod along.

CHAPTER TWO

Jane kept trudging along, following Sunny and Screech until the woods gave out to a stretch of open fields. The farmhouse was on the far side of a paddock, with a barn and some other outbuildings, a rusty double-wide trailer, and what looked like a greenhouse off to one side. The house was big, two stories, with a wide porch across the front. In the paddock next to the barn were two llamas munching on some grass while chickens scratched in the dirt in front of the house. Jane skirted an old rail fence that had netting tacked up on it to where the driveway widened out in front of the house.

Sunny had run ahead to where a little girl, maybe four or five, was playing on a bench with a naked plastic doll. Her light blonde hair was in pigtails, and she wore a flowered dress over corduroy pants and rubber boots. The dog lay by her feet while Sunny talked and gestured back at Jane.

Both children stared as Jane hobbled up to them. It surprised her that they didn’t run screaming for their mother. She was limping, muddy and wet, her short blonde bob glued to her head in a brownish blob. Mud was drying to a mask on her face and neck, not in a healthy way, and it streaked across her clothes. She must look like a swamp monster. At least, the chickens stayed away, giving her suspicious looks from over by the barn, or maybe it was because of the dog.

The children had been discussing her, and the little girl looked her over carefully, her solemn little face almost exactly like Sunny’s.

Sunny says you’re summer folk. The little girl put down her doll and walked over to Jane. Jane blinked. Summer folk again! What was with the labels? The little girl reached out and peeled a strip of drying mud off of Jane’s best skinny jeans, now irrevocably ruined.

This is my sister, Rainbow. Sunny made the introductions. Rain, this is Jane. She fell in the mud, he added unnecessarily, Jane thought. Surely it was evident that she had fallen into a bog. Rain was still fascinated by peeling mud off her jeans, displaying patterns of dark blue strips amidst the caked-on brown glop.

Hi, Rain, Jane shifted uncomfortably. Her feet were freezing, but she wanted to be polite. She didn’t know much about children, but these two seemed all right, albeit, rather taciturn. Rain ignored her and went back to the bench where her doll lay.

Hmm, is my aunt in the farmhouse?

Ayuh, Sunny answered, But Harriet will not like it if you make a mess in the house.

He’d confused Jane again. My aunt is Viney, er, Lavinia, not Harriet. Who’s Harriet? She shifted, trying to get some feeling back in her feet.

Sunny never answered her question as something hard hit her in the butt, and Jane fell forward, landing on her hands and knees. Something hit her again, and she fell flat on the ground. Both children were yelling, and the dog was up and barking, and her butt hurt, but Jane didn’t understand why. From where she was lying on the ground, Jane saw the door of the double-wide fly open, and a young woman rushed out, waving a broom.

Git, you old goat! Git!

Really, Jane thought, rubbing her sore tush, labels from the children are one thing, but this was just plain name-calling. She rolled over, trying to get up and explain, and that’s when she saw Sunny tugging at the collar of an evil-looking goat, trying to pull him away from her. Screech was helping, pushing against the other animal and barking loudly, while the goat baaed or bleated, whatever goats did. Chickens were squawking and flying away from the melee. The woman had arrived and was batting at the goat with her broom while Rain stood on the bench waving her doll and adding to the general noise.

Jane couldn’t help it; she laughed hysterically and lay back on the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing through the grime. It was all too much, getting the car stuck, the mud, the goat.

She was in a loony bin.

Rain jumped down off the bench to squat next to her and study her carefully, her nose wrinkled up in confusion. Meanwhile, the woman with the broom drove the goat off, and Sunny, the woman, and the dog stood in a circle around her, regarding her quizzically. She must be the children’s mother, Jane guessed, trying to control her hysterics.

Jane wiped at her face, probably adding more dirt, and noticed that more reinforcements had arrived and joined the melee. An older woman, gray hair in a long braid over her shoulder, and an elderly man, his own long braid just hanging down his back, stood watching the spectacle in their front yard. Another young woman, dressed in work boots and a bandana tied around her head, stood with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. There seemed to be a lot of people at her aunt’s farm.

The older man stepped forward and gave Jane a hand, pulling her to her feet, then stepped back and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pants, trying to clean off the mud Jane transferred to him by the contact. Jane didn’t even bother to try to clean herself. At this point, she wouldn’t know where to start.

Sunny announced, This is Jane, Viney’s niece. She’s come to visit.

I’m Harriet, Viney’s partner, the older woman nodded at Jane. Viney’s in the house confined there by a bum leg. This is Jacob, Hazel, Gloria, known as Glory, and I guess you already met the kids. She pointed to the group.

You forgot Henry, Rain tugged at Harriet’s shirt.

Harriet patted Rain’s head. Yes, dear, you’re right. Henry’s around here somewhere.

They all looked expectantly at Jane. Um, Aunt Lavinia wrote and invited me to come for a visit. I got my car stuck in the mud down that road, she turned to look back at where, presumably, her car and boots were still buried in muck.

She says she’s summer folk, but I’m thinking flatlander, Sunny contributed his bit by way of explanation of what had happened to her car. His mother pulled him to her and whispered in his ear.

Well, let’s get you into the house and let you clean up. You must be freezing. Harriet was welcoming, but the two younger women, Hazel and Glory − which was which anyway, Jane thought, Harriet hadn’t been clear in the introductions − were viewing her suspiciously as if she were trying to inveigle herself onto the farm to steal the family silver. Jane shivered, too cold to worry about making friends right now.

Do you have any luggage? Jacob said in a gruff voice.

I have a suitcase and a bag in the car. I wasn’t sure how far the house was so I left them there. Harriet put an arm around Jane, ignoring the mud, and pulled her towards the house.

Jacob, can you please find Henry and have him take one of the four-wheelers out to get her bags? Right now, she needs a hot bath and then some clean, warm clothes.

I’ll find Henry, Sunny was already racing off behind the house, unhampered by the big boots, quickly followed by his little sister.

Fine, then, Harriet gave her head a little shake. Jacob, then can you please get a blanket so that I can wrap Jane up. She will have to take her clothes off on the porch. There’s too much dirt to let her into my clean house.

Jacob quickly walked ahead of them and ran up the steps into the house. Jane realized that her feet had gone numb standing in the yard, and now she felt she was walking on hot coals which would have been fine if it didn’t also hurt like the dickens. Harriet steadied her, and Sunny’s mother (Jane decided she must be Glory as nicknames seemed to run in that family) took her other arm to help her across the yard. The last woman, Hazel, just stood with her arms crossed and watched for a moment, then turned and walked away.

By the time she made it up the stairs, Jane was ready to collapse. Jacob appeared in the doorway, tossed a blanket to Harriet, then disappeared again. Harriet pulled it open and spread it around Jane like a screen.

Can you get your clothes off by yourself? Glory spoke in a soft voice. Jane raised her deadened fingers and fumbled at her pullover, but her hands weren’t working now. A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. She had rarely felt so helpless.

That’s okay; I can help you. I’m used to it with the kids. Glory unzipped Jane’s pullover and pulled

Reviews for Applegate Farm

[madamediotte · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An enjoyable blend of romance and fantasy set in today's world that should appeal to many. I liked finding out how things were going with the characters I was already familiar with and found some of the secondary characters intriguing. I hope to see a novel starring Finn soon!*I was given a free copy of this novel and voluntarily chose to review it.*

[jetangen4571 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Leaving an unloved fiance, a managing father, and any hope of law school, Jane goes to visit her aunt on her farm in Maine and acquires an extended family. She also meets a man who left a wealthy lifestyle after a tragedy, a grogoch, and learned about a portal to the land of the Fae. A well-woven story blending Irish lore with present problems. Very enjoyable!Won in a LibraryThing Giveaway