Saving Grapes
Cable’s Bend – Book 1
Madeline Kirby
Saving Grapes by Madeline Kirby
Copyright © 2015 by Madeline Kirby
Cover Design: Natasha Snow Designs (www.natashasnow.com)
EBooks are not transferable. All Rights are reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any places, organizations, or locales have been used fictionally and are not to be construed as representative or factual. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events, is entirely coincidental.
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www.evilgeniusatwork.com
E-book ISBN: 978-0-9961958-1-2
Trademarks Acknowledgement: The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Chevy (Chevrolet): General Motors
Coke (Coca-Cola): The Coca-Cola Company
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation: CBS Corporation
Formica: The Diller Corporation
Shiner Bock: The Gambrinus Company
Subaru: Fuji Heavy Industries
Dedication
This one’s for my husband, because he cooked, he cleaned, he did the laundry and cleaned the litter box and fixed the car and I never could have done this without him. Well, I could, but I’d be a wreck.
He deserves every bottle of craft brew
that comes his way.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Thom Caldwell looked down the row of grapevines stretching ahead of him and thought again of the list of things he needed to get done. He should hire someone, but his vineyard was small enough that he could handle it on his own with occasional help for a little longer. He’d had a full time hand, but Hank had met a girl and gone to join her in the southern part of the state, growing marijuana. He couldn’t blame the guy – it was probably more lucrative than grapes, Thom figured, and even he had to admit the girl sure was pretty.
He worked himself half to death some days, but it was worth it to be back home in the Willamette Valley, in Cable’s Bend, and know that this was all his. Ever since he was a small boy he had loved his grandfather’s vineyard, and now at the age of thirty-two he was one of the youngest vineyard owners in the state and Granddad was in Arizona, enjoying a well-earned retirement in the dry hot air that was easing his aching joints. Thom grinned as he set to work tying vines.
Thom finished the row of vines and was just about to start the next when he caught sight of Chuck Loomis’s battered Chevy pick-up bouncing along the gravel road leading to the parking area by the old white farmhouse. Thom gathered his tools and started walking towards the house. If his buddy Chuck was here there’d be no more work for a while – the local extension agent out-talked and out-gossiped anyone else Thom knew. It was about time for a break anyway, and he might as well have company for lunch.
Chuck was just climbing down from his truck as Thom stepped out from between the rows of vines about twenty yards from the house. “Hey, Chuck!” he called.
Chuck spun towards the sound of Thom’s voice and raised his hand to wave a greeting, “Hi Thom. How’s it going?”
“Okay. You?”
“Fine, fine,” the wrinkles between Chuck’s eyebrows deepened and he chewed his lower lip. “Yeah, fine.” He looked down at his boots for a moment, then up at the rows of grapevines laddering the hillside above them. “Fine.”
“Yeah, right. Fine-fine-fine. Come on in the house. I was just about to have some lunch.” This was different. He’d never seen Chuck anything other than cheerful and talkative. A distracted, monosyllabic Chuck was disconcerting. He climbed the stairs of the back porch leading into the mudroom and laid his tools on the table just inside the door.
“Huh?” Chuck was following him into the house at least, but his brain seemed to be idling in neutral.
“Lunch? Something to drink? You want a pop?” Thom walked through the mudroom into the kitchen, stopping in front of the refrigerator.
“Okay. Yeah. Coke if you’ve got it.”
Thom grabbed a couple of cans from the refrigerator and sat down at the kitchen table. Chuck pulled out one of the other chairs and sat. Thom opened a can and sat it in front of the other man who looked at it, blinked a couple of times, and finally picked it up and took a long drink.
“You gonna tell me what’s on your mind, Chuck?” Thom asked, taking a sip of his own drink. “Are the girls alright?” Chuck had six daughters, all lookers, or heart-breakers in the making, and all ornery enough to give their father palpitations at times. Mention of his girls seemed to bring him back to earth.
“The girls? They’re fine. No, really,” he added when Thom looked doubtful. “Sorry, I guess I’m not all here or something.” He sat his Coke can back on the table and stared at it, distracted again.
Thom stood and crossed back to the refrigerator, opening it and taking out cold cuts and lettuce. “I was gonna have some lunch, Chuck. Want a sandwich?” He sat the food on the counter next to the sink and started moving around the kitchen, taking out more sandwich makings and letting Chuck cogitate while he slathered mayonnaise on a couple of slices of bread. He didn’t mind the silence and figured Chuck would fill it soon enough.
“Thom…” Yep, there he went.
“Yeah?” Thom prompted.
“Um. I need… well… I’m not sure how… Geez.” Chuck leaned back in his chair, looking up at the high ceiling and rubbing his big, tanned hands down his face.
“Okay, you’re starting to worry me now. What do you need? You’re a good friend, Chuck. If I can help, I will. You just have to ask.” Thom really was worried. He’d known Chuck most of his life. Chuck was like a son to his granddad, and like a father to Thom. “As long as you don’t try to fix me up with any of your daughters again.” He grinned, trying to ease some of the tension he could feel building.
Chuck smiled – a thin, sad little smile – but he seemed to be relaxing a bit. “No. It’s my nephew.”
“Uh…” Thom’s grin froze – had Chuck figured out why he had no interest in his daughters? “You, uh, want to fix me up with your nephew?” He tried to make a joke out of it. Chuck stared at him blankly for a moment, then finally smiled, a genuine smile, and let out a small laugh.
“I guess that did come out funny, huh? No, that’s… No, not... But…” The tension was gone, but the frown was back.
“Okay, spill it, Chuck, or you’re not getting this sandwich. The tomatoes are homegrown, too.”
“I cam
e over to ask… well, I need a favor, yeah, but you might not be comfortable with it. So, if you’re not just say so. I’ll understand.”
“If I can do it, Chuck, you know I will.” Thom put the sandwiches on plates and carried them to the table. He set the plates at their places as he sat down and tried to figure out how to draw Chuck out. He was getting tired of the hemming and hawing.
“Okay,” Chuck said, drawing in a deep breath. “I need to know, and this is really awkward. I need to know if you’re okay with… gay folks.” He mumbled the last word and for a few seconds Thom wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. He tried to get his thoughts together and answer Chuck calmly. He didn’t think Chuck was getting at anything, but he couldn’t be sure.
“That’s… out of the blue. You’re not…” He let the question dangle. “I mean, it would come as a real shock to Lorraine, not to mention all your children…” He kept his tone light, trying to keep the attention off himself because he knew, knew, that he was blushing.
“Jesus, Thom. If you’re just going to make a joke out of everything…” Chuck was visibly upset and started to stand up. Thom reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him back into his seat.
“No, Chuck. I’m sorry. You just seemed so upset. I was trying to lighten things up and get you to relax. I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything. Is this about your nephew? Really, Chuck, just sit down and tell me.”
Chuck sat, took another drink of his Coke, and finally started looking more like his normal self. He took a bite of his sandwich, grunted appreciatively and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just that I’m kind of out of my depth here. It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about, or had to talk about. But my nephew… well, he’s a good kid and I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
“Okay. Well, to answer your question, I had friends who were gay when I was at UC Davis.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but he wasn’t ready to tell Chuck that some of his gay friends were also his boyfriends. “Some of them are still my friends. A person’s sexual orientation is not a factor to me when I’m choosing my friends. I don’t judge or discriminate. We’re good friends, Chuck. I’m kind of sorry you even had to ask.”
Chuck met his eyes, smiling that sad little smile again, “I’m sorry, Thom. I should have known better. I’m just so mixed-up topsy-turvy since I found out about my nephew.”
“He’s gay, I take it? You’re having a problem dealing with it?”
“Yes. No. I mean, yes, he’s gay. No, I don’t have a problem with it. I am having a problem with my sister – his mother.” Chuck rolled his eyes. “She’s never been particularly tolerant, and she’s gotten worse since she moved to small-town Alabama.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Chuck, we’re not exactly the big city here.”
“No, but we’re not the Bible Belt, either. I’ve seen gay couples in town, and as far as I know, no one’s threatened them or tried to run them down crossing the street. Reverend Martin doesn’t get up on the pulpit Sunday mornings and tell us gays are an abomination and going to hell in a handbasket.”
Thom knew Reverend Martin, the minister at the local Unitarian church, and kept to himself the thought that a sermon like that would be more than a little hypocritical.
“So, is that the kind of thing going on there? Are people saying things, doing things, to your nephew?”
“I’m not getting a clear picture. He just graduated from Texas A&M last week and headed home after graduation. He’s staying with his mom, trying to decide whether to apply to grad school or get a job or what. From what I can tell, his mother came home unexpectedly, opened up his bedroom door, and he… um…” Chuck blushed and stammered to a halt.
“Wasn’t alone?” Thom raised one eyebrow.
“Yeah. And my sister freaked. Practically locked him up in his room and watches him like a hawk. She’s had her minister over to the house to, I don’t know, pray over him or lecture him on the evil of his ways. If she was Catholic she’d probably have him exorcised or something. If he was younger I think she’d send him to one of those camps or that therapy that’s supposed to turn you straight. You wouldn’t believe the way she’s acting. Like she’s taking it personally. Poor kid.” Chuck sighed and picked up his sandwich.
Thom would believe it, though. He had seen some of his friends go through painful times coming out to their families. His own parents had died when he was a child, and he’d never told Granddad, his only other relative. He had a feeling Granddad might have figured it out, but had never said anything.
“So you want to help him? Get him out of there?”
“Yeah. I mean, he’s 22, so technically he’s a grown man, but he’s my nephew, my family. If there’s something I can do to get him in a better place, I want to do it.”
“Makes sense. And you need my help because?”
“Can he stay here?” Chuck looked Thom in the eye, stopping just short of begging because he was too proud for that.
“Here? Why here?” Thom knew he sounded defensive, but Chuck didn’t seem to notice.
“You’ve got room, I don’t. And you could probably use help around the place since it’s just you now. Ben’s got a degree in Agricultural Engineering, and he took business classes too. He could help out – I know you’re overworked since Hank left. It could be really good for everybody and I know I could trust you not to give him shit or hurt him. He needs a fresh start. As a friend, Thom, I need you to be his friend, too. He’s a great kid, but he’s in a bad situation right now and I need to get him out of it before it screws him up.”
Thom had never seen his old friend like this. “Hell, Chuck. You know I can’t refuse.” Thom leaned over, resting his forehead on the Formica tabletop, rocking his head slowly left and right. He knew he was going to regret this. “When do you think he’ll get here?”
Chuck shifted in his chair. “When, Chuck?” Thom looked up at him and Chuck had the grace to look sheepish when he replied.
“He should be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Tomorrow? You were pretty damn confident I’d say yes, weren’t you?”
“Geez, Thom. I figured you would, but if you didn’t I’d have figured something out. I just had to get him out of there, you know?”
“Yeah,” Thom sighed. “I know. You’re one of the good guys, Chuck. Now get out so I can wash sheets and clean the guest bath and all that other stuff I have to do. Unless you want to stay and help?”
Chuck jumped up, grabbing the remaining half of his sandwich, and bolted for his truck. “Thanks, Thom!” He called over his shoulder. “I owe you one!”
Thom shook his head as he started cleaning up the lunch mess. Chuck owed him a lot more than one. He had a feeling his life was about to get damn complicated. He just hoped Chuck’s nephew was skinny, ugly, and buck-toothed.
Chapter 2
How come I never seem to catch a break? Thom thought to himself as he watched Chuck’s nephew walk up the drive the next evening. A little over six feet tall, he guessed. Broader in the shoulders than Thom, but not muscle-bound. He looked fit and athletic with sandy hair worn shaggy and covering his ears. As he got closer, Thom saw the younger man had deep brown eyes, just like Chuck and his daughters. Please, oh please, let him have crooked teeth. Thom cursed inwardly when Ben was introduced, extending his hand and smiling. Damn, perfect, strong white teeth and a dimple in one cheek. Fuck me, Thom thought. My life is going to be a living hell.
“Come on in,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice didn’t seem to work. He held the screen door open so Chuck and Ben could precede him into the house. He couldn’t stop himself from looking and damn if Ben didn’t have a perfect ass to boot – not too flat, not too full, just toned and strong. “Have a seat. Can I get you guys anything to drink?” he stopped in the door leading to the kitchen, trying to focus on being a host to distract him from less wholesome thoughts.
“Not for me, Thom,” said Chuck. “I’ve got to get ba
ck home. I just wanted to drop Ben off and make sure he got here okay.”
“Okay. How about you, Ben? Want a beer?”
“Sounds great. Thanks.” The smile again. Thom spun on his heel and headed into the kitchen to get a couple of beers. That dimple was really just too much.
Ben watched Thom head into the kitchen and the smile turned to a moue of confusion. Had he somehow managed to offend the other man? Maybe he was uncomfortable knowing Ben was gay?
“Hey, Uncle Chuck?” He started walking towards the front door with his uncle. “You told Thom about me, right? Is he okay with it? With me being here?”
Chuck patted his nephew on the back, “Don’t worry about it son. He’s fine. It’ll be an adjustment for him. He’s lived alone for a long time. It’ll do him good to have someone else around for a bit, and I think you can be a big help to him here.”
Ben nodded. “Okay. Thanks. Thanks for everything Uncle Chuck. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. I’ll bring the rest of your stuff over when it gets here. Did you bring your bag in from the truck?”
“Crap, no,” Ben rolled his eyes at his forgetfulness. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where’s Ben?” Thom asked, returning from the kitchen with a couple of beers.
“Ran out to the truck to get his bag. I gotta get going, Thom. See you soon.” Chuck opened the screen door just as Ben came bounding back up the steps with his duffel bag. “’Night Ben,” he said as he passed his nephew on the porch.
“’Night Uncle Chuck.” Ben came back inside, dropping his bag inside the door and smiling at Thom. “Hey, I haven’t seen this before,” he said, reaching for one of the brown bottles in Thom’s hand.
“It’s from a place near Portland – I don’t think they sell it outside the state.”
Saving Grapes (Cable's Bend Book 1) Page 1
