by Amy Gamet
She pushed his hands away. “I have to go. Let me go.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
“He’s waiting for me.”
“Here?” Rafael’s hands dropped to his sides. “You brought him here?”
She nodded. “In the tasting room.”
He turned to look at the building in the distance. “Where are you going?”
“What?”
“You said he’s waiting for you.” His stare met hers. “Where are you going?”
She hung her head. “His parents have a place on the lake they rent out. It’s vacant right now. We’re going to go for a few days and get…reacquainted.”
“Reacquainted.” He crossed his arms. “You’re going to sleep with him.”
Melanie turned abruptly and walked quickly away, not knowing if he was following her or not. She started crying, her sobs mixing with great gasps of air.
Then his arms were around her from behind, halting her steps and turning her around to face him. “Melanie…” He kissed her hard on the lips and she thrilled at the contact, knowing it was the last time she could touch him, the last time she would taste him, and he pulled her tightly against his body.
“Don’t go back to him. Stay with me,” he whispered against her mouth, and she cried again, knowing she had never wanted anything more, even as she knew it wasn’t possible.
She shook her head. “I can’t. Don’t you understand I would if I could? He almost died out there, a piece of who he was did die. I can’t abandon him after that. It’s not right. Please don’t ask me to do it.”
He pulled back, his eyes meeting hers, and she could tell he must have seen her resolve somewhere in their depths, because he released her and turned around, slowly walking back from where he came.
* * *
Melanie ran down from the high field, as if hopelessness itself were chasing her from the vineyard. Rafael’s face was engrained in her mind, every word he used to beg her to stay, circling through her consciousness.
Didn’t he see that the choice wasn’t hers, that it had been taken away from her the moment Greg returned? If he had left her of his own free will, it would be different, her obligation erased, but as it stood she couldn’t bear to turn him away.
Greg had already been through so much devastation. If one of them had to make a sacrifice for the other’s happiness, surely it was her turn to offer herself.
Not him.
It had been him far too many times already.
But what about Rafael?
None of this is his fault, but he’s also being punished.
“I’m sorry,” she said out loud as she walked, the force the slope pulling her away from the high field. “I’m so sorry.”
Needing a minute to compose herself before walking into the tasting room, she reached her car and climbed inside, the interior air sickly sweet from the strudel. She wanted to be angry with her mother for her enthusiasm for Greg, which felt so much like betrayal, but she understood too well her mother’s motivation.
Melanie wiped at her eyes, checking her make-up in the rearview mirror. How was she going to hide the emotions so clearly drawn on her face? She took in a shaking breath.
She would do it for Greg.
She would find a way, no matter what it cost her.
* * *
Grapevines stood in tall silhouette, the lake glowing gray in the distance. A cloud came and blocked the moonlight, making Rafael feel as though he was standing in the eye of some storm he couldn’t see, quiet and surreal.
He stood in the highest of Crescent Moon’s fields between two sections of grapevines, Lobo wandering nearby. He would have gone home if he could have mustered the desire, but he knew he would just look at the lake and imagine Melanie and Greg making love somewhere on its shores.
Like you’re not thinking about it anyway.
A light breeze carried the scent of grapes, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled it deep into his belly.
He’d lost the only two things that had ever mattered to him—Melanie and Crescent Moon. Someone else would own this vineyard, wander through its rows and marvel at its wonder in the light of an overcast moon, just as someone else would hold Melanie in his arms and marvel at her beauty.
Rafael replayed their moments in the field, the sadness on her face and the ache in his heart when she told him it was over. He shook his head and cursed under his breath. He remembered thinking he couldn’t compete with a ghost, but in the end, he couldn’t compete with the real live man, either.
Headlights in the distance shined up the vineyard road, and he frowned, knowing his peace was about to be disrupted. Who was here at this time of night? The car approached the winery on the opposite side of the property from where he stood, and Lobo took off running toward it.
So much for going unnoticed.
Rafael walked slowly toward the car, not really wanting to engage his visitor. It was probably Peter, and knowing how Peter had been lately, the other man was probably drunk.
Rafael shook his head. The next owner of Crescent Moon would need to find a new winemaker, after all, for the region was about to lose a great one. It wasn’t likely Peter could stay employed with a drinking problem, especially if he was falling asleep on the job.
None of which affects me at all.
He’d already made up his mind. When the winery changed hands, it would be time for him to move on, find somewhere else to focus his energy. It would be too painful and unproductive to stay here and see only what might have been, but he had yet to decide if he could part with the town of Moon Lake, as well.
That was a much harder decision.
If he stayed, he’d be confronted with Melanie and Greg living happily ever after, an idea that made his stomach clench and twist. But leaving would mean letting go of the only town he’d ever wanted to call home.
He was getting closer to the winery, and he moved between the rows of grapevines to avoid being seen. It was time to get Lobo and go home, time to put this awful day to rest. He whistled for the dog once, twice, but Lobo didn’t come.
Rafael had just resigned himself to the need to go inside the winery and fetch his dog when he heard the winery door shut, then a car start. Peter was leaving. Rafael gave the other man time to drive away before emerging from the grapevines.
“Lobo, here, boy,” he called.
He whistled.
Nothing.
Rafael furrowed his brow. Had Peter left Lobo in the winery by mistake? Surely he must have realized Rafael was here somewhere. He never left his dog here alone overnight.
He called for the dog again, louder this time.
He walked into the winery and turned on the light.
Rafael weaved through the tall steel tanks, calling his dog. Maybe he was wrong—maybe the dog was outside after all, and had taken after an animal of some kind into the woods.
Just to be sure, Rafael went through to the barrel room, where oak barrels full of wine were stacked on racks four and five barrels tall, and he moved to look behind them.
A small noise to his right caught his attention, the slightest whimper. Rafael turned toward the sound. There on the ground, between a pallet of new wood barrels and the electrical box was Lobo, unmoving on the ground.
“Lobo?” Rafael rushed to the dog. A small amount of blood was on the animal’s forehead and snout. He watched the rise and fall of the dog’s chest. “You’re going to be okay.” He used his hands to look for other injuries, and found none.
He pulled out his cell phone.
Bonnie answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“It’s Rafael. Someone broke into the winery.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You need to call the police. I saw a car come up the hill, but I just assumed it was Peter. Whoever it was knocked out Lobo. He’s hurt pretty bad. I’ve got to get him to the vet.”
“I’ll call 911 now.”
“Keep me posted.”
With that, Rafael ran down the hill to the side of the tasting room, his mind screaming with confusing possibilities. Who the hell had broken into the winery, and why? He thought back. Had the door even been locked? Had it been forced at all?
He just didn’t know.
Better yet, why would anyone do that?
His breath was just visible on the cool night air, coming in quick pants as he reached his truck where he’d parked it behind the tasting room. There was a twenty-four hour animal hospital in Geneva. He just hoped he could get Lobo there in time, and his dog would be okay.
* * *
Melanie stood on the deck of Greg’s father’s house, listening to the sound of sirens racing up West Lake Road. The door behind her opened.
“It’s cold out here,” said Greg. “Sure I can’t get you a sweatshirt?”
“No, I’m fine.”
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
His parents’ vacation house was just a quarter mile from town, but it was a world away from everything familiar to Melanie, with overly large rooms, a solid wall of windows, an expansive deck and modern furnishings. It should have been beautiful, but it just felt strange and cold.
She’d packed an overnight bag, though she threw in enough clothes for more than one night. The clothes were easy, but the underwear and pajamas were far more complicated choices. If she was really coming back to Greg, she’d have to open her heart to him once more, even if that meant prying open a door that seemed to be welded shut.
Cigarette smoke blew toward her and she wrinkled her nose.
I should be happy he’s back.
I should be jumping in to his arms and into his bed, instead of keeping him at arm’s length.
When had her feelings for him changed?
One day all she wanted in the world was for him to come home, now all she could feel for him was ambivalence.
The earrings.
It had begun to change with the earrings.
She smiled a secret smile, gazing out over the darkened lake. The morning she found them on her doorstep with the note—beauties for the beauty—it was as if someone had poured water on a neglected houseplant. She was alive again, the simplest attention making her strong.
Another trail of smoke lingered too close to her nose. “When did you start smoking?”
“When I was over there.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t want you to know.” He inhaled, the tip glowing orange in the night.
“What else didn’t you want me to know?”
He exhaled. “Lots of things.”
“I need you to tell me now.”
He bent at the waist and rested his elbows on the railing, not looking at her. “I slept with other women.”
Melanie licked her lips. “Before you went over there?”
“No. While I was there, and after.”
There was no sense of betrayal, only a numbness that settled over her.
“What else?”
A bat flew by the deck, the sound of its wings like those of a bird.
“I killed people.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. A lot.”
She imagined she could see him firing his weapon, the look he would have on his face, the emotional tension he must be under, knowing he needed to pull that trigger. “Go on.”
He took another drag.
Then another.
“I tried to kill myself.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t even do it.”
She reached out and touched his back, and he slammed his palm onto the railing.
“I couldn’t even do it!” He made a noise that was part laugh, part cry. “All those men I killed without even blinking, but I couldn’t kill myself.”
It occurred to Melanie she might want to be afraid, maybe even run from him, but she couldn’t find the impulse. She was oddly detached, except for the sympathy she felt for him. “Is there more?”
He nodded, his body seeming to cave in on itself. “My buddy over there, Evan, he was the one who kept it real, who made sure everybody was doing okay. That guy was funny as all get out.” Greg shook his head. “He had a twin sister, Karen, who used to write him almost every day, and he’d read her letters out loud to me about their parents and her college and the guys she was dating. It was like I knew the whole family.”
Melanie could feel it coming, like you could feel lightning about to strike the ground next to where you stood.
“I didn’t even see him in front of me.” Greg’s face contorted. “I just fired at a convoy through some trees, and when I turned around I couldn’t find him, and I looked, and I looked, and finally I saw him on the ground…”
Melanie closed her eyes against the horrible picture Greg drew her. The emotional pain he felt must have been unimaginable. She opened her eyes.
“Come here,” she whispered. Another siren sounded in the distance.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly as he shook and gasped. “I love you, Mel.”
“I love you, too.” The words came naturally to her tongue, their truth never in question.
They swayed together until his breathing returned to normal, holding each other in the night, then Greg pulled back and looked at her tenderly. “Now it’s your turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“What don’t you want me to know?”
Melanie let her arms drop away from him. She stared at the lake, as if it held some answer she had yet to discover. If she told him the truth, she’d be walking away from him forever.
Abandoning him in his time of need.
The words were locked in her throat, too hard to speak or swallow.
Greg lightly cuffed her wrist and the bracelet she wore there, bringing it up so he could see it. Their eyes met.
“I don’t want you to know who that’s from,” she said softly.
He brought her wrist back down and nodded. “What else?”
She took a shaky breath in. “I don’t want you to know what he means to me.”
“I saw you with him. Kissing him.” This time it was Greg who reached out, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s okay, Melanie.”
Guilt overwhelmed her. “No, it’s not. I should have waited for you.”
“No. No, you shouldn’t have.”
He pulled back, his hand lightly stroking her cheek. “It’s okay.”
She bit her lip.
“I’m glad you found someone, Mel. And not someone broken like me.”
She kissed his cheek. “But I want you to be whole again.”
He frowned. “And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
The idea that he would never be the same, never make it past this horrible place in his life, made Melanie want to sob. “I’m going to see you through this. I will be your friend, always, Greg. Even if we’re not together.”
A firetruck siren pierced the night, and they each turned toward the sound.
“What the heck is going on?” asked Greg.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure it can’t be good.”
Chapter 12
Bonnie burst through the double doors into the emergency veterinary clinic. “How is Lobo?”
“We’re waiting for the test results,” said Rafael. “He has a concussion and a big bump on his head, they’re just ruling out any internal bleeding.”
“Poor thing.”
Rafael nodded, his mouth a hard line. Lobo had already had more than his share of mistreatment. The fact that someone deliberately hurt such a sweet, gentle animal had Rafael’s fists clenching at his sides.
They would find out who did this. “Did you call the police?” he asked.
She nodded. “Edward’s meeting them at the winery to see if anything is missing or out of sorts. Why would anyone break in there?”
“I have no idea.”
Bonnie clenched her hands together. “Do you think it was Peter?”
; Rafael nodded.
She shook her head. “Doris said he’s been acting strangely. Drinking too much, carrying on with Annie.”
“Annie?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.” His eyes widened. “They’re seeing each other?”
“Apparently for quite some time. Perhaps even before he separated from his wife.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you don’t participate in gossip, Rafael. You’re very high and mighty that way.”
He looked at her incredulously.
The veterinarian walked in the room carrying an x-ray. “There’s no evidence of internal bleeding, Mr. Delacruz, but there is some minor swelling around his brain. I want to keep him overnight for observation.”
Rafael nodded. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor left the room.
“Why the dog?” asked Bonnie. “Lobo knows Peter.”
“He was barking. Maybe he didn’t realize I was right there, and didn’t want me to hear.”
Bonnie’s cell phone rang. “Hello?” Her eyes widened and she turned to Rafael. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “There’s a fire at the winery!”
“A fire?” His jaw dropped. “It’s all concrete and steel. What could be on fire?” As soon as he said it, he thought of the oak wine barrels he’d left out, stacked on wooden pallets, waiting to be filled with wine. “The barrels. We just got a new shipment of barrels.”
“Let’s go.”
Leaving Lobo at the veterinarian’s office, they drove back to Moon Lake as quickly as possible and pulled into the parking lot, which was full of emergency vehicles. Further up the hill, a fire truck was parked by the winery.
Rafael got out and approached a uniformed fireman, Bonnie right on his heels. “I’m the vineyard manager. What happened?” he asked.
“You’ll have to talk to the fire chief. Over there.”
When Rafael found him, he explained, “Looks like an electrical fire. A resistor and an electrical timer were wired incorrectly to the fusebox.”
Bonnie shook her head. “A resistor and a timer? I don’t understand.”
