No, Mum, Im not coming. Ill get everything I need from the corner shop.
But but how? The stores! The vitamins! You love them yourself!
Your stores arent for me, Emily said calmly. Let those who need them waste their own time and effort.
Just twenty more jars of cucumbers and thats it for today, announced Margaret Green, wiping her hands on her apron.
Emily brushed a damp line of sweat from her forehead. Her shirt was soaked through, clinging to her skin. The kitchen was suffocating; the air was thick, heavy, scented with vinegar and dill.
She glanced at the table, a chaotic mountain of jars, lids, and vegetables. Down in the cellar, tomatoes waited their turn, cabbage for sauerkraut, a dozen different salads. A weeks worth of work still lay ahead.
Alright, Mum, Emily exhaled, reaching for the next jar.
Her hands moved on autopilot: cucumbers into the jar, brine poured in, lid twisted shut. Again and again. She kept at it, trying not to think about the endless tally of tasks.
Here we are, Margaret said with satisfaction, sweeping her gaze over the rows of sealed jars. Soon the family will be ready for winter.
Emily could no longer hold back. She set the jar down and turned to her mother.
Mum, wheres Olivia? Why isnt she helping?
Margaret looked away, her eyes flickering to the nowclean countertop.
Olivias got a new job. She cant ask for time off, you see. Its a responsible position, strict bosses.
Emily pressed her lips together. Of course. Olivia always found an excuse. Last winter the younger sister had caught a cold the very week the jars needed sealing. The month before that she was off on a business trip that perfectly coincided with the harvest. Emily, on the other hand, never had a reason to miss work. Her mother had almost demanded, in a tone bordering on command, that she take leave and come home.
Dont look so sour, love, Margaret said softly, noticing the slump in Emilys shoulders. At least well have our own provisions all winter. Vitamins! Nothing healthier than that.
Emily nodded. It was the only bright spot in a bleak situation, and at least the pickles turned out brilliant.
The days melted into a single, endless whirl. Emily sealed tomatoes, prepared salads, fermented cabbage. She hauled heavy crates of jars down to the larder, climbing the steep stairs dozens of times. She swept the floor, polished the tables, took out the rubbish. Her hands ached, her back throbbed. By night she collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
When the work finally ended, Emily returned to her flat, drained. She had only a single day of holiday left and wanted nothing more than quiet. The flat was empty. The fridge was halfempty, its shelves echoing. Yet Margaret was satisfied, and that mattered most. Olivia never called, never asked how things were going, never offered a hand.
Winter arrived. Emily would occasionally drive to her mothers cottage for a few jarscucumbers, tomatoes, saladseverything homemade and tasty. Margaret delighted in her daughters visits; they shared tea and long conversations.
At the end of January Emily came back again. Margaret greeted her with a smile, laid out the table. Emily sat, looked around. There lay boughtin sausage, cheese, bread, but no salads, no jars of her mothers making.
Emily frowned. It was odd. Usually Margaret made sure something from the winter stores was on display. The table now seemed strangely sparse.
They talked about everything. Margaret filled Emily in on the village gossip, asked about work. Emily almost forgot the strange emptiness of the spread.
When it was time to leave, Emily stood, pulled on her coat.
Mum, Im going to the cellar for three jars of cabbage with carrots, she said, heading for the door.
Dont! Margaret snapped, stopping her.
Emily turned, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Why? I was about to make
Just dont, Emily. Stay away from the cellar.
Margaret looked away. Something in her demeanor tightened a knot in Emilys chest. She tossed the coat onto a chair.
Mum, whats happening? Why cant I take a couple of jars?
I I just cant give you any more preserves, Margaret muttered, staring at the floor.
Emily squinted, irritation bubbling up.
Mum, I spent a whole week on the preserves. Remember? And now I cant have a couple of jars? Explain, please.
Emily, its not the time to argue I just cant give them to you, thats all.
Emily spun and almost ran toward the cellar. From behind came Margarets voice, sharp as a whip:
Emily! Dont touch them, I told you!
But Emily had already opened the door and was descending the stairs. She flicked the light switch. The small room flooded with brightness. She froze. The shelves were almost empty.
Where neat rows of jars had stood moments ago, now less than half remained. Emily could swear the shelves had been full yesterday. Where had everything gone?
She climbed back up slowly, entered the kitchen, and faced her mother. Margaret stood with her head lowered, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Mum! Emily gasped. Youre short of money? Selling the preserves? You should have told me! I could have sent what you needed. You shouldnt be out in the cold, selling food at your age!
Emily reached for her mothers hands, but Margaret pulled away. Emilys anger cooled to a chill.
Is that it? Youre not selling them?
Margaret shook her head. Emily sank onto a chair, meeting her mothers gaze.
Tell me everything
Silence hung heavy. Margaret sighed, hand sliding across her cheek.
It all went to Olivia, she whispered. She met a lad with a big family in the city. She told them she was stockpiling for winter, and his whole clan started demanding jars.
So she cant say no, right? She wants to marry him. The familys wealthy, influential. Everything fell apart quickly.
Emily held her breath for a heartbeat, thinking her mother needed help, feeling concern. The reality, however, was far more mundane.
You stopped me from taking jars so Olivia would have enough? Emily said slowly.
Margaret remained silent.
You only think of Olivia? Emily rose, leaning on the table. What about me? Mum, who sealed all those jars? Who? Olivia? Where was she when I was laboring all week? And now she, as if nothing happened, empties the shelves!
Emily, you must understand, Olivia is at a crucial point in her life, Margaret began to defend herself. She has to impress his family. Its not vital for you.
Emily shook her head, grabbed her coat.
I get it. Ive understood enough.
She walked out without looking back, slid into the drivers seat, gripped the wheel until her knuckles whitened. Rage, hurt, bitterness churned inside. Tears threatened to spill, but she started the engine and drove away.
Months passed. Olivia moved in with her boyfriend. Emily visited her mother rarely, no longer demanding jars. Margaret no longer raised the subject. They talked about weather, work, neighbours, but an invisible wall had risen between them.
One evening the phone rang. Emily glanced at the screen it was her mother. She answered.
Emily, dear, its time, love, Margaret said brightly. Im expecting you next week. We need to make the winter stores again. Even more this year, so theres enough for everyone.
Emily froze. That meant Olivia would be handing out jars left and right again, and Emily would be forced to work like a maniac.
I wont come, Mum.
What? Silence stretched over the line. Emily, what are you saying? Of course youll come. I cant manage on my own.
No, Mum. I wont. Ill buy everything I need at the corner shop.
But but how? The stores! The vitamins! You love them!
Your stores arent for me, Emily replied evenly. Let those who need them waste their own time and effort.
Emily! You cant do that! What about Olivia? Im your mother! You should
Emily hung up. She wasnt going to be a goodnatured workhorse any longer. She had enough. And, in the end, she owed nothing to anyone.
