Page 78 of The Apple Cider Orchard

‘They’re finding their way,’ he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

‘They are,’ she agreed, squeezing his hand gratefully. ‘Just like you and me.’

Chapter 44

The following evening, Goldenridge glowed in the fading sunlight, each tree haloed in a golden hue that turned ordinary leaves into fragments of stained glass.

Molly walked beside Jack, his steady presence a welcome comfort as they followed Patrick and Eddie along the narrow path between the rows.

None of them spoke as the four moved deeper into the orchard, their silence a reverence that seemed appropriate. In Molly’s jacket pocket, the velvet pouch rested against her heart, a physical reminder of the promise that had brought her across an ocean to this exact moment.

The day had drifted toward evening, the harsh edges of sunlight mellowing into the golden hour that photographers chase and poets attempt to capture in words. It bathed the orchard in a light so rich it seemed tangible – as if Molly could reach out and let it pour through her fingers like honey. The air hung still and cool, carrying the sweet-sharp scent of ripening apples and the earthier notes of autumn soil.

Patrick led their small procession, his walking stick finding secure purchase in the soft ground between apple trees. Eddie followed a few paces behind, his typically stiff posture softened by wonder as he absorbed the surroundings that had shaped his wife’s early years. Jack remained close by Molly’s side.

The velvet pouch seemed to grow heavier against her chest with each step closer to the oak. Not physical weight, but the gravity of meaning – a final wish, a journey home six decades delayed. Jack’s hand found hers, his calloused palm warm against her suddenly cold fingers.

‘Alright?’ he asked softly.

She nodded, grateful for the simple question and the complex understanding behind it. ‘Just thinking about how circular life can be,’ she replied. ‘Nan left here never expecting to return, and now I’ve brought her back. Found a grandfather I never knew existed.’

Jack squeezed her hand gently, his thumb tracing a small arc across her skin. ‘Found more than that, I hope.’

The warmth in his voice drew her eyes to his face, where she found a question and an affirmation in equal measure. ‘Much more,’ she confirmed, the words simple but laden with promise.

Ahead of them, Patrick had stopped at a junction in the path, waiting for them to catch up. ‘Just through here,’ he said, indicating the smaller trail that wound between older trees.

‘We should call your brother now,’ Eddie said.

Molly took her phone from her pocket, unlocking it with slightly trembling fingers. ‘He’s waiting.’ She handed the phone to Jack. ‘Would you set it up? I’m not sure my hands are steady enough right now.’

Jack nodded, navigating to the video call app. Moments later, Cole’s face appeared on the screen, her brother’s features resolving from digital pixelation into familiar lines. He was in his apartment in New York, the city lights visible through a window behind him.

Jack held the phone at an angle that included Molly in the frame. ‘We’re almost there,’ she said to Cole. ‘Just wanted to make sure you’re with us.’

His face softened. ‘Just wish I could be there in person.’

‘You will be,’ Jack stated, speaking directly to Molly’s brother for the first time. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

Cole nodded, his expression shifting as he registered Jack’s presence. ‘You must be the apple guy,’ he said, a hint of protective brother in his tone.

Jack met his gaze without flinching. ‘And you must be the hockey player.’

A moment of assessment passed between them, man to man across an ocean, before Cole’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘Thanks for looking out for my sister,’ he said simply.

‘My pleasure,’ Jack replied, the sincerity in his voice drawing a flush to Molly’s cheeks.

They continued along the narrowing path, Jack now holding the phone so Cole could experience the journey alongside them. Patrick and Eddie had fallen into step together, their earlier silence replaced by quiet conversation as Patrick pointed out specific trees or views that held significance.

‘Your grandfather’s doing well,’ Jack murmured to Cole, keeping his voice low enough that the older men wouldn’t hear. ‘He and Patrick have found common ground quick enough.’

‘Pop’s good at reading people,’ Cole replied, his voice slightly tinny through the speaker. ‘Always says you can tell a man’s character by how he treats what he values most.’

Molly was pretty certain Jack didn’t miss the gentle warning, but his face gave nothing away.

The path curved once more, then opened into the clearing where the ancient oak stood sentinel. Molly’s breath caught afresh at the sight of it bathed in the evening light.

The massive trunk glowed like burnished bronze, its deeply furrowed bark catching shadows that emphasized every groove and hollow carved by centuries of growth. Above, the spreading branches created a canopy that filtered the low-angled sun into dappled patterns on the grass below. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze that seemed to exist only in this one spot, as if the tree generated its own weather, its own atmosphere.