August drew to a close, then September. October began with the last warm days of summer becoming slowly tinged with a bit of crispness. The Benton announced they were going to have an apple-cider press.
Stephen and Alec spent a few evenings in Alec's old pick-up truck, scouring the neighborhood for apples going to waste. There were many deserted orchards, as well as a few neighbors in the area who were glad to have the boys load-up their apples, rather than letting them rot. The fellows promised a jug of fresh cider to each family, in appreciation.
Mrs. Benton remarked teasingly that she could see why so many apples had been donated. For the most part, they were in pretty sad shape, yet ideal for cider. The back yard was full of crisp, bright leaves which rustled beneath their feet as they made a path to the cider press. Stephen offered to do the squeezing, while Alec ran back and forth to the Benton shed, collecting good-sized buckets and utensils for the job. Alec reached behind him and grabbed an apple, tossing it to Kara as he burst into a grin.
Jennie stood watching them, cherishing these last hours before the pressure of studies and the cold of winter would bring an end to the carefree days. She saw Stephen putting all his strength into cranking, his strong arms pressing the apples through as he turned the heavy wheel; Alec dashing back and forth, assigning various jobs to the girls; her father taking on the task of pouring the fresh cider carefully into the narrow-topped jugs. She ran into the house for her camera, wanting to capture each of these moments for her scrapbook.
Before long there were a surprising number of jugs sitting in a row on the picnic table. Jennie's mother was in the house getting ready for supper, as one by one the older couples arrived to join the potluck. They ate out under the trees before an early darkness fell. As evening settled around them and the chill increased, Mr. Benton built a bonfire. They all gathered round to roast marshmallows and wieners on the long sticks Alec supplied.
Later that evening Alec arranged a hayride for everybody, young and old alike. They all gathered at the old barn, where Alec hooked a very old and creaky wagon onto the tractor. "All aboard!" he called, making a last minute check on everything. Pulling off into the night under the bright moonlight, they circled the fields of ripened crops, passing beneath the trees silhouetted against the night sky. The older folks enjoyed the ride every bit as much as the younger ones.
A week later, Stephen, Jennie, Kara and Julia drove down to the ocean. It was one of those crisp, bright October days when summer seems to have returned for a few hours. The golden sun of Indian Summer cast its rays across the land. It was easy to spot a deserted beach where they could walk for miles in the bright sunlight, the waves crashing against the shore. Jennie felt it was even more beautiful than the Pacific Ocean.
Standing on the bluff, the close-knit group looked down over the beach and ocean below, the sand dunes around them and the snow fences making a pattern of sunlight and shadow along the hillside behind them. Far off in the distance, gray, weathered cottages with white trim stood facing the sparkling blue waters. They walked down the steep, wooden stairway to the ocean below. Jennie was intrigued by the charm of walking past sand dunes and snow fences above; then coming to this winding stairway that descended to the ocean itself. For miles the sand stretched ahead of them, reaching to the horizon, it seemed.
As they reached the shore Stephen lagged behind them, stooping down now and then to collect another interesting shell. At last the girls stopped by the water's edge and stretched out on the warm sand, the breakers rolling in at their feet. Above, they watched fluffy white clouds cross a blue sky. What a perfect day! In the distance, a boat could be detected, the rays of sun making it sparkle like a tiny light across the water. In unison they began to sing: "What a friend we have in Jesus All our sins and griefs to bear What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer."
Their voices rose with intensity as they began another chorus: "In My Father's house are many mansions If it were not so, I would have told you In My Father's house are many mansions I go to prepare a place for you."
Stephen came toward them in his slow, easy, relaxed manner, his hands overflowing with shells. There were dozens of them tossed up on the damp sand. Some were a brilliant gold, others a soft orange, almost coral. He sat down, dumping a handful of the bright ones beside Jennie. Then he pulled from his pocket one long, thin, white shell with a delicate coral lining.
"Would you like to add it to the collection you have at home?" he asked. She took it in her hands, awed by the exquisite design.
The girls began unpacking the lunch: carefully packaged sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, a bowl of fruit salad and a large watermelon. Kara passed around the paper plates and silverware. How hungry the salt air made them!
Stephen picked up the jug of water and poured Jennie a cup, then reached for more cups and filled each, passing them around the small circle. Much of the summer had been lost, but this day almost made up for it.