A Stonecreek Christmas Reunion

by Michelle Major

  There was the truth of it, and when he took a small step back like she’d hit him, she knew he felt the impact as much as she did.

  He lifted a hand and used his thumb to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

  “Are you staying in Stonecreek?” she asked, because she had to know.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He cleared his throat. “There are extenuating circumstances.”

  She huffed out a humorless laugh. “I imagine one might even call them ‘complications.’”

  “One might,” he conceded with a nod.

  “Good luck with wherever life takes you.” It was difficult to get the words out, but she even managed a small half smile to go with them.

  “This can’t be the end.”

  “We were naive to think it ever would have worked out between us.”

  He shook his head. “You know that’s not true. Maggie, please.”

  “Please what, Griffin?” She threw up her hands. “What exactly do you want from me at this point?”

  “I want another chance.”

  “No.” She fisted her hands at her sides, her fingernails digging into the fleshy center of each palm until it hurt. Physical pain to mask another emotional hit. Of course, a part of her wanted to give in. It would be so easy. She could take one step forward and be in his arms again.

  Except he was still holding back. She didn’t know what it was or understand why, but she could almost see the barrier that surrounded him.

  “I’ve got to go,” she told him. “The tree lighting is tonight and it’s a big deal this year.”

  “I heard about LiveSoft. I’m sure you’ll put on quite a show for them.”

  “Yes, well...the show must go on and all of that. Goodbye, Griffin.”

  His jaw tightened. “I won’t say goodbye,” he whispered.

  “That doesn’t change me leaving,” she said and walked away without looking back.

  * * *

  Griffin returned to the vineyard, his mood as black as a starless sky at midnight. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Maggie. He thought he’d understood how mad she was, but other than that one moment when tears had filled her eyes, she’d been cold more than anything.

  It had been like talking to some kind of vintage automaton, and the ice in her eyes when she looked at him made frustration curl along the base of his spine.

  He kicked a piece of loose gravel in the driveway in front of his mother’s house. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth from the rain that was so typical this time of year. He drew in a deep breath, hoping the earthy smells would ground him, as they always had in the past.

  When he’d left home at eighteen after that final, awful fight with his father, Griffin had never expected to return. As much as he loved the vineyard, Dave Stone had made it clear that his oldest son would never be worthy of having any place in the family business.

  Griffin still didn’t understand the animosity that had simmered between him and his dad back then. Yes, his mother had given him an explanation about his dad feeling trapped by her unexpected pregnancy and taking out his frustration on his older son. But Griffin couldn’t imagine punishing a child for the things in life that didn’t work out the way his dad wanted them to.

  Especially now.

  He’d been home only a day and had yet to talk to Marcus Sanchez, Harvest Vineyard’s CEO, who’d announced plans to step away from his position right before Griffin left for Seattle. Griffin had no idea if Marcus still wanted him to take over the business, or if his abrupt departure had burned bridges with more than just Maggie.

  As much as he wanted to get his former life back on track, he understood nothing would ever be the same. With another glance at the fields stretching out below the hillside, he headed for the house.

  His mother, Jana, greeted him at the door, one finger lifted to her lips.

  “Is he okay?” Griffin whispered, unfamiliar panic making the hair on his arms stand on end.

  “Sleeping,” she mouthed then motioned him into the house.

  They walked through the foyer, and she stopped at the edge of the dining room.

  Griffin’s eyes widened as he took in the antique cherry table, covered with various blankets and sheets.

  “In there?” he asked.

  She gave him another strident finger to her mouth then led the way toward the back of the house and the big farmhouse kitchen that had been remodeled when he and his brother, Trevor, were in high school.

  “I checked on him about ten minutes ago,” she said, her delicate brows furrowing. “He was fast asleep, clutching that ratty blanket he carries everywhere.”

  “He calls the thing Chip,” Griffin told her. “You never would have let Trevor and me cover the dining room table with blankets. As I remember, that room was strictly off-limits.”

  “I had to keep one room sacred from you heathens,” she said with an equal mix of humor and affection. “Besides, neither you nor your brother dealt with anything near the trauma that boy has.” She pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and glanced over her shoulder. “I heard him last night.”

  Griffin nodded, his gut tightening at the memory. “The nightmares are a regular thing since the funeral. He has to be exhausted.”

  “What are you going to do?” She poured two glasses of tea.

  If he had a quarter for every time he’d asked himself the same question over the past few weeks...

  When his ex-girlfriend and longtime friend, Cassie Barlow, had paid him a surprise visit in early October, she’d given no indication she was secretly interviewing him for the role of guardian for her four-year-old son, Joey. According to what she’d told him when he arrived in Seattle over a month ago, she hadn’t known either.

  Treatment for the breast cancer diagnosis she’d received over the summer had seemed straightforward, a course of chemo and radiation and she’d been donning her own pink ribbon as a survivor. Then they’d discovered the cancer had metastasized throughout her body and within weeks, her prognosis had gone from sunny to “put your affairs in order.”

  Being an eternal optimist, Cassie had still believed she could beat the disease. It wasn’t until hospice intervened that she’d called Griffin. He’d arrived at her bedside only to find out about her wishes for Joey.

  The boy was polite and respectful but hadn’t warmed to Griffin at any point. Not that Griffin blamed him. He’d tried to convince Cassie there must be someone more appropriate for Joey than he was, but she’d been adamant. He’d managed to have her moved home with round-the-clock care at the end and then spent four agonizing weeks sitting by her bed and helping the nurses care for her before she’d slipped away peacefully late one night. He’d hoped the peace of her death might make things easier for Joey.

  Could anything lessen the pain and trauma of a young child watching his mother die?

  The night of the funeral had been the first time Joey had woken screaming and thrashing in his bed. The episode had taken years off Griffin’s life, but now he was used to the unsettling incidents. He’d wake within seconds of hearing the boy and bound to his bedside to comfort him. It was the only time Joey allowed himself to be touched.

  It made Griffin’s heart break to feel that small body trembling in his arms and damned if he had any idea how to help the boy.

  “I called Dr. Cunningham earlier,” he told his mother, massaging his hand against the back of his neck. “To say he was surprised to hear from me would be the understatement of the year.”

  She smiled. “The thought of you calling your former pediatrician for advice is fairly shocking.”

  “I get it. He gave me the names of a couple of child psychologists to call. I’ll try them on Monday morning. I think it would help if Joey had someone to talk to. I know it would help me.”

  “You’re doing a good job,” she said, pla
cing a comforting hand on his arm.

  “Only you could say that at this point.” He laughed. “I’ve managed to muck up every part of my life once again. Maggie is done with me, and I can’t imagine how Marcus took my absence.”

  Jana leaned one hip against the counter. “It would have helped if you’d let me talk to him about why you left.”

  Griffin shook his head. “I couldn’t deal with people knowing when I wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen with Joey.”

  “Would you have stayed in Seattle if he’d put up a fight about coming here?”

  “Of course. At least for a while. Hell, I almost wish he had resisted. Or showed any kind of emotion. It was like the sicker Cassie got, the more Joey retreated into his shell. I should have done more to bond with him, but I was so focused on her.”

  “She was lucky to have you,” his mother told him.

  “It’s so unfair,” he muttered. “She seemed happy and healthy when she came to visit in the fall. Maybe I’m not the right person to judge. Cassie and I were both a bit of a mess when we were together.”

  “Which is perhaps why the relationship didn’t work?” She sipped her tea. “You never talked much about her.”

  He shrugged. “We dated for six months when we were in our early twenties. To be honest, we were too much alike to be together in that way. I was drinking a lot and Cassie...” He closed his eyes as he remembered some of the wild times they’d had together. The memories were hazy and left him with a sick pit in his stomach. “Cassie had other vices. But she finally had her life on track, and she was a great mom.”

  “He’s a sweet boy.”

  Panic tightened like a noose around Griffin’s chest. “Am I going to screw him up, Mom? Should I have stayed in Seattle?”

  “What do you think?” she asked softly.

  “I don’t know.” He downed the glass of tea then set in on the counter, but the cool liquid did nothing to ease the burning in his chest. “Actually, I do know. He’ll be better here, or at least I will, and that has to be better for him.” He met his mother’s gentle gaze. “I don’t know how I could face this without you.”

  “I’m here for whatever you need.”

  Before Cassie’s summons, Griffin had been staying in the efficiency apartment above the barn on the property. He’d planned to rent a place in town so that he and Maggie could have more privacy. Now he was back in his childhood bedroom, with Joey across the hall in Trevor’s room. It had made the most sense logistically so that his mom could help with the boy.

  “I want to be a part of Harvest,” he told her. “This is my home. The grapes are in my blood.”

  “I know,” she murmured.

  “But Joey has to be my first priority.”

  “Yes,” his mother agreed without hesitation.

  “What does that mean for the CEO position?”

  She lifted the pitcher and refilled his glass. “Your dad managed the company and his family. Being a father doesn’t mean you can’t run the vineyard as well if that’s what you want.”

  “A father,” Griffin repeated, a little stunned at the words.

  “That’s what you’ll be to him. We’re his family now.”

  Griffin nodded. Cassie had told him she didn’t know who Joey’s father was. She’d been an only child and her parents had died in a car crash when she was seventeen. She had no siblings and no relationship with any extended family.

  “I need to talk to Trevor,” he said, almost to himself.

  “He’s still angry at you for leaving.” Jana’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “At Marcus for wanting to wait for you to take over his job and at me for supporting him in that decision.”

  “Maybe Trevor has a point.”

  His mother shook her head. “He’ll understand once you explain about Joey. I’m surprised the news didn’t sway Maggie.”

  Griffin looked out the kitchen window. It overlooked the backyard, which included a large flagstone patio, built-in grill, seating area and a stone fire pit. Beyond that was an expansive yard with ornamental grasses and beds of perennials. It was the only part of the property they kept properly manicured.

  He’d have to build a play set for Joey, as the one he and Trevor had used had been removed years ago. Maybe a tree house too. He’d always wanted one in the big maple tree in the corner, but his father never had time.

  “I didn’t mention it,” he said, turning his back to his mom.

  “Griffin.” The word was a soft admonishment.

  “I couldn’t guilt her into taking me back.”

  “You hurt her badly.”

  “I get that.” He felt a muscle tick in his jaw and pressed two fingers to it. “Maybe I didn’t understand while I was in Seattle, but I do now.”

  “So you’re going to let her go?”

  He squeezed shut his eyes then opened them again. “What other choice do I have?”

  “You could fight for her.”

  “What do I have to offer?” He lifted a hand, ticking off all the areas of his life that were in chaos. “I’m the guardian of a boy who just lost his only parent and will barely make eye contact with me. I have no actual job at the moment and I’m back to living with my mom.”

  “Maggie moved in with her father when she rented her house before the wedding.”

  “That’s temporary.”

  “So is this,” she reminded him. “You have a job if you want it, Griffin. You have a place at Harvest. You always have.”

  He laughed at the absurdity of that statement. “Not when Dad was alive.”

  “He would have come around eventually,” his mother insisted.

  “Doubtful.”

  “This isn’t about your father. You love Maggie.”

  “Who knows if what I felt was even real. I’m not sure why I thought I’d be able to make a relationship like that work in the first place. My track record is spotty at best.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  He stepped forward and drew his mom in for a quick hug. “You give me too much.”

  A faint sound drew his attention to the far side of the room. Joey stood in the doorway, clutching his blanket in one hand with his other thumb shoved in his mouth.

  “Look who’s awake,” Jana murmured with a smile.

  “Hey, buddy.” Griffin plastered the biggest, brightest smile he could manage onto his face. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  The boy shrugged.

  “Would you like to make some cookies?” Griffin’s mother asked. “I have ingredients for chocolate chip or peanut butter. Which do you like best?”

  Joey stared at her for a moment then popped his thumb out of his mouth. “Peanut butter.”

  Jana let out what sounded to Griffin like a relieved sigh. She’d probably wondered if the boy would even answer her. “Peanut butter it is.”

  Joey stepped into the kitchen, the corner of his tattered blanket trailing across the travertine tiles. “Are you going to make cookies?” he asked Griffin.

  “Um...” Griffin glanced at his mother then back to Joey. “I’d love to, but I need to do a walk-through of the vines before I meet with Marcus...” He paused, then clarified, “He’s the man who runs the vineyard right now and I’m going to help with his job now that we’re here to stay.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” his mother whispered, squeezing his arm on the way to the pantry.

  “I want to come with you,” the boy mumbled.

  Jana stilled.

  “Are you sure?” Griffin scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’m just walking through fields, checking on rows of grapevines. Your... My... Ms. Jana here is offering an amazing afternoon filled with sugar and chocolate chips and—”

  “I like it outside,” Joey said simply.

  Griffin glanced at his mother,
who smiled and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “All those years when you’d try to follow your dad around while he worked. Who would have ever thought you’d be in his shoes?”

  She meant the words as a compliment. A fond reminiscence of her late husband. Because of that, Griffin didn’t correct her. But he wanted to. He wanted to shout and rail that he was nothing like his dad. If Joey wanted to shadow him in the fields, he’d let him and the afternoon wouldn’t be filled with lectures and admonishments.

  “Do you have boots?”

  “Nope,” came the boy’s answer.

  “Your gym shoes will suffice for now, but you’ll need something sturdier as the weather gets colder.”

  “What’s sur-fice?” the boy asked, his little brows furrowing.

  “They’ll be okay until we get you new shoes,” Griffin clarified.

  “Can the new ones have basketballs on them?”

  “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Does that mean yes or no?”

  Jana laughed then covered it with a cough. Griffin shot her a glare then returned his attention to Joey.

  “It means I’ll try,” he told the boy.

  Joey cocked his head, like a puppy studying his owner after being told to sit for the first time. The seconds ticked by, but Griffin didn’t dare move. Somehow this moment felt like a test, and he’d never been great at tests.

  “Okay,” his new ward answered finally, and the tightness in Griffin’s chest eased slightly.

  Maybe trying really would be good enough.

  “I’ll have cookies waiting when you get back,” his mom promised.

  “Thanks,” he told her and hoped she realized it was for so much more than just the promise of cookies.

  His first instinct was to take Joey’s hand, but he worried that would cause the boy to shut down. So he inclined his head toward the door. “Follow me and pay attention. Today is your first lesson as an apprentice vintner.”

  Joey fell into step a pace behind him. “What’s a vintner?”

  “Someone who makes wine.”

  “What’s wine?”

  Griffin shook his head as he led the way out the front door and started toward the hill that would take them down to the estate field, Inception, the first his father had planted. “It’s grape juice for adults.”