The Davis Years (Indigo)

by Green, Nicole

  Davis nodded, picking at his thumbnail. That was his dad, all right.

  “I know you can’t stand taking care of me and you wish I wasn’t around. I probably won’t be much longer. This old body is falling apart on me.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Davis glared at him.

  “I don’t need no lecture from you.”

  “Yeah. You don’t need anything from anybody. And nobody better need anything from you, either, huh?”

  “What are you talking about, Davis?”

  “You always screwed everything up for me. And then you sit here and try to make me feel bad about something I don’t even have control over. You’re the one who smokes. You’re the one who drinks. I do all I can for you and you don’t appreciate it. You never apologize for anything you do wrong.”

  “What is going on with you today?”

  “I’m real sick of you ruining my life.”

  “So now I’m to blame for all the stupid mistakes you make?”

  “You know, why wouldn’t I blame you, Dad? I lost the woman I loved and got in a shit marriage. You taught me that it’s wrong to be attracted to someone outside of your race. You taught me that women are all evil and not to be trusted. You tried to teach me not to respect women at all.”

  “I told you never to get married. You did that one to yourself, son. She’s sure fun to look at, but them ones are the most trouble most of the time.”

  “You really screwed me up, you know. And what about the fact that I had to literally fight for my life when I was younger whenever you got drunk? Which was more often than not.”

  His dad looked down at the water pitcher on the tray in front of him. “I was wrong, son. I know that now. What can I do about it? If you hate me, I don’t blame you. I reckon it don’t make sense to get mad. If you don’t want to take me to dialysis anymore, I can find someone else. I understand if you want to leave. Move out.”

  Things weren’t going as Davis had expected them to. He didn’t even get to be royally pissed off. His dad looked so sad and defeated and small lying there in the center of his hospital bed.

  His dad smacked his dry lips before saying, “Jemma is perfect for you, son. I’m man enough to admit when I’ve screwed up. I could say it was this or that or the other that made me do the things I did. I could blame a lot of really messed up stuff I’ve done on others, but I won’t. I take full responsibility for ruining the relationships I could have had with you and your brothers. Heck, even with your mother.

  “I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. I was hell to live with. But you stayed by me, Davis. Even if it nearly killed ya. And I love you more than I think you’ll ever understand for that.”

  Davis poured water from the plastic pitcher into a paper cup. He handed the cup to his father both to try to improve the papery quality of his father’s voice and to give himself time to think.

  Davis sighed and shook himself out of the memory when the cook yelled at him that his order was up. The cook looked angry, as if he’d been trying to get Davis’s attention for a while. Davis put the plates on his tray and walked toward the table.

  His mind slipped back to Bill as he made his way toward the booth at the back of the restaurant where the plates needed to go. Was his father more of a man than him? Hadn’t he tried to own up to all the wrong he’d done? Wasn’t he showing his strength by not telling Jemma that all he wanted was for her to stay? He knew the best thing for her would be to go to Florida. She deserved every opportunity life had to offer her—and ten times more. He was determined not to ask her to stay.

  Davis was glad it was a table of college age girls he was serving. Maybe he could flirt his way to a tip because he certainly wouldn’t get one based on the service.

  ***

  Jemma and Mary went into the living room after eating the dinner Jemma had cooked for them.

  “You are some cook. Since you’ve been here, I’ve eaten some of the best meals that I didn’t have to cook in a long time,” Mary said as they settled into the couch with their mugs of cinnamon spice herbal tea. Jemma had made baked chicken, green beans, and fresh rolls from scratch. There was peach cobbler for later, but both of them were too full for it at the moment. Mary had asked how Jemma could be full when she’d barely eaten anything. Jemma’s mind had been so full that her stomach seemed to think it was as well.

  “Thank you.” Jemma breathed in the warm, spicy aroma of her tea.

  “Something’s been bothering you.” Mary turned toward Jemma. “You can’t fool me. I know you didn’t give up a night with that boy to sit here with me.”

  “Mary, I haven’t spent enough time with you since I got back. This isn’t—”

  “You know that’s not it.” Mary smiled and set her tea on a coaster on the coffee table. “Now, what is it? What’s been worrying you so bad, girl? You can’t even hardly follow a conversation.”

  “I went to their graves today.”

  “Oh, Jemma.” Mary put a hand on her back.

  “I want it to be over, Mary. I went there. I made my peace. I felt fine when I left the cemetery, but now I’m not so sure anymore. What will it take?”

  “Honey, this isn’t something you can fix with a Band-Aid or magic words. You will always remember. Both the good and bad. It’s a part of who you are and you will be stronger for it.”

  “I don’t feel very strong right now.”

  “You’re a smart and wonderful person inside. You were always happy to swap shifts with people at the store. Work the hours nobody wanted to work. And you never complained. You took time out to get to know all of us and the customers. You treated everyone the same and everybody loved that about you. I loved that about you.” Mary moved closer. “You need to find a way to get back to that girl. Stop being afraid to open up and be of all those good things again.” She patted Jemma’s shoulder. “I think a good start would be to stop lying to yourself.”

  “Huh?”

  “It hurts you what happened. It tears you up, but you never talk about it. You never screamed that I saw. Never threw a fit. Except for that one time on the day of the funeral you told me about when it seemed more about punishing your friends than letting go of the things that hurt you.

  “Today, what you did was a good start. But learn to lean on people, Jemma. Take help from a friend. Until you learn to do those things, and learn to really let go and live your life free, you’re never going to get where you’re trying to go in life. You’ll always be bitter and shriveled up inside. And I know that’s not you. You’re trapping that girl I know you still have somewhere deep down in there. Let her out. For my sake. For your friends’ sake. For your own.”

  Jemma looked down at her hands. “That’s what I’m trying to do, Mary. I really am.”

  “I hope you are, Jemma. I really do. But I have to ask you this question. Why are you really going to Florida?”

  “Because everything that’s important to me is there. My future—my job—is there.”

  “Everything important, huh?”

  “Mary, I love you. I didn’t mean that you’re not important. And Derring will always hold some things that are close to my heart, and of course people, too.” She tried to shut the image of Davis out of her mind as she said that. “But there’s no future for me here.”

  Mary shrugged. “All I’m saying is everything happens for a reason. Maybe you being back in Derring is about more than a wedding and that man being up for parole.”

  Mary knew about the interview, but not about Smooth asking Jemma to visit him. She hadn’t told Mary about Smooth wanting to see her because she didn’t want to upset the woman.

  Jemma sat back against the couch, contemplating Mary’s words. Maybe this was her chance to put a face and a name to her demons and repulse them once and for all. Jemma didn’t think she was meant to stay in Derring, but she did think Mary had a point.

  She had a few more days before the interview and she was going to spend them with Davis. They would have the real goodbye sh
e had imagined when she first went back to the restaurant for him that past Friday. She would think only of him. Without the fear of and anger with her past. Then she would deal with Smooth and all that entailed.

  Mary and Jemma talked about lighter things for the rest of the evening, but Mary’s earlier words stuck in Jemma’s head. Maybe Jemma wasn’t being honest with herself about a lot of things and maybe that needed to change.

  Her talk with Mary did a lot to lighten the burden on her heart. She fell asleep without all the tossing and turning she’d done ever since she’d come back to Derring. In fact, she fell asleep with her head against Mary’s shoulder while an old movie played on the television on low volume.

  Chapter 21

  Davis showed up at eight the next morning, as promised. He wore a crisp white shirt with blue stripes and dark jeans. It appeared he’d pressed both shirt and jeans. He’d even gotten a haircut. His black hair no longer fell over his ears and it tapered down in the back to the nape of his neck. He wore sunglasses so Jemma couldn’t see the blue eyes she loved so much.

  He stood just inside the front door, smiling at her as she gathered her overnight bag and purse from the spot where she’d left them in the hallway. “You look great,” he said as he took the bag from her.

  “Thanks,” she said. She wore a white strapless sundress and matching sandals. He kept glancing at her as they walked toward the car. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just really excited about today.”

  She grinned. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere you’re dressed perfectly for. It’s almost like you can read my mind. Creepy a little bit.” Davis shut the trunk and opened the passenger side door for her. He put his index finger under her chin as she started to get in the car. She stopped and looked up at him. “Somewhere I think you’ll really like. Hope I’m not wrong.”

  Jemma was curious as Davis drove off, but he wouldn’t tell her a thing. Her curiosity grew when he got onto the interstate. Then, when he went from 295 to 64 West, she was really perplexed.

  “Where are we going, Davis? Charlottesville?”

  He shrugged, obviously enjoying the game. “Maybe.”

  “Further?”

  “Maybe I’m just gonna run away with you.” Davis reached across the console for her hand, and she slipped it into his.

  She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it before placing it back in her lap. She pushed the thought away of how nice it would be if this was a normal outing for a normal couple.

  The weather was beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky. Not oppressively humid. And the temperature was in the high seventies. It was hard to ask for a nicer day during a Virginia summer.

  “What? This is where we’re going?” Jemma asked as Davis turned onto a gravel road, passing a sign that said “Bayberry Vineyards.” They’d just passed Gordonsville and were outside of Charlottesville. The vineyard was in a little town that couldn’t have been a dot on the map nestled between the two larger towns.

  “Yeah. You like wine, right? You told me you took that wine class or whatever as an elective in college,” Davis said, squeezing her hand.

  “This is perfect.” Jemma’s entire face lit up as she looked out of the window at the rolling hills filled with rows of vines. They pulled up near a white Tudor-style house. Davis parked in the small parking lot where there were only a few other cars.

  They walked up to the building hand-in-hand and greeted the petite blonde behind the desk in the office. The building looked like a house converted into an office. The reception area could have been a living room at one time.

  Davis introduced himself and recognition filled the girl’s brown eyes. She didn’t look much older than seventeen and she had that smitten, I’ve-been-charmed look on her face that Davis could bring to a girl with very little effort. Jemma knew that well.

  “Oh, yeah. Mister Hill. Private tasting tour, right? Hold on a minute and I’ll get Josh. He’ll be the one giving you the tour.” The girl stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in her khaki cropped pants, and jogged to the back. They heard a door slam. Jemma figured the girl must have gone outside to get Josh.

  “Private, huh? Is that expensive?” Jemma asked, feeling badly at the thought of having set Davis back.

  “Nah. Besides, whatever it cost, I wanted to spend it. Otherwise it would have probably gone to rotgut liquor and cigarettes,” Davis said before kissing the tip of her nose.

  “Good point,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Hey. I thought you said you quit smoking.”

  “Yeah. Working on it. Kind of,” Davis said with a wink.

  He was a sneaky one. Then again, his breath was extra minty sometimes.

  Josh, a middle-aged, well-built man with dark, weathered skin and kind, brown eyes came inside, grinning a grin full of perfectly straight white teeth.

  “Josh Burgundy. Davis? Jemma? Pleasure to meet y’all.” Josh held out his hand for them to shake, which they did.

  “Well, you two, how about we get started? We’ll start out back where the grapes grow and work our way inside to where all the magic happens and we stomp the grapes.” Josh laughed at his own joke before continuing. “Just jokin’ with y’all. We don’t stomp ’em anymore. Let’s get a move on so y’all can get to the good part.” He ran a hand over his thinning black hair. “Tasting the best grapes around after they’ve been all doctored up by the finest winemaker and vintner in the whole state of Virginia. Heck, probably in all this fine country of ours.”

  They followed Josh outside, arms wrapped around each other. Jemma slipped on her sunglasses, unable to stop smiling. She was barely able to concentrate on what Josh was telling them about soil, European grapes, blending grapes, or anything else. Once they moved into the barrel room, she stared at the oak barrels, but was glad there was no test later on the differences between using them for the reds and the steel tanks he showed them in the next room for the whites. Although Josh was nice and his words ordinarily would have been very interesting to her, she was lost in thoughts of Davis.

  Davis held her close during the entire tour. Regardless of where he stood, he had at least one arm around her waist. When he pressed his cheek to hers, or when his lips were near her ear, she lost track completely of what Josh was saying. Every touch was familiar and intimate—as if they were doing things they did all the time. She tried hard not to think of it that way, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Later, they went into the tasting room. It was a vast cavern of a room dominated by a large stone fireplace, but it still managed to have a cozy feel. They chatted with a few couples, all of them telling Jemma and Davis what an adorable couple they made. Jemma thanked them, not bothering to correct them. When they were done in the tasting room, they wandered into the retail area nearby.

  After buying a couple of bottles of a chardonnay Jemma liked, they sat down in the winery’s small dining area to a lunch Davis had packed for them. The lunch was simple, but the best thing Jemma had ever eaten, knowing Davis was thinking of her when he made it. Plus, the sandwiches and potato salad really were tasty.

  “You have a good time today?” Davis asked before taking a sip of water from a paper cup. He’d brought a large bottle of water for them to share.

  “Oh yeah. This is—I never dreamed you planned anything like this.” Jemma couldn’t keep herself from gushing, showing her true surprise at the thought Davis had put into their day together.

  He chuckled. “You were probably expecting something really bad, huh? A total cop-out? Like me taking you to a baseball game or something else you would have hated?”

  “Hey. I like sports.”

  “Not baseball. You say it’s too long and boring and you don’t understand why they have to have all the innings.”

  She laughed. “How do you know so much about me?”

  “I told you. I listen. A lot more than you think I do, apparently. A whole lot more.” He grinned, kissing the corner of her mouth. He started to pull back. S
he pulled him close again, kissing him softly on the lips.

  “I wish I hadn’t said I’d go to the show tomorrow night. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Well, we have tonight, the day tomorrow, and you’re still coming over after the show, right?”

  “Right after.” Jemma kissed his cheek. The look he gave her sent chills all over her body and warmth to all the right and dangerous spots.

  “I’ll be counting the minutes. I’ll probably screw up more orders than usual.”

  They laughed.

  A couple stopped near them, smiling. A tall, olive-skinned man and his shorter companion greeted them.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” The woman pointed to the empty bench across from them.

  Jemma shook her head. “No. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the bench.

  They sat. “We are from Spain. This is our honeymoon. We wanted to try this famous Virginia wine.” The woman had a heavy Spanish accent and she put a short “e” sound in front of “Spain” so that it sounded like the word started with an “e” instead of an “s”. “This is my husband, Guillermo, and I am Maria.” Maria flipped her shiny black hair out of her eyes and smiled at them.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Jemma and this is Davis.” Jemma put her hand over Davis’s, which rested on the table, when she said his name. He squeezed it and she grinned at him.

  “You two are so beautiful together. I was saying that to Guillermo before we came over.” Maria smiled at them before murmuring something to Guillermo in Spanish. He nodded.

  “Maria was saying to me that you two have so much love for each other in your eyes.” Guillermo translated with a smile.

  Jemma blushed and slid her hand from Davis’s. “Are you two enjoying your trip so far?”

  “We are. This is our first trip to the United States together. We both came when we were younger at different times. That was before we knew each other.” Maria smiled and murmured something else in Spanish to Guillermo. Even though Jemma’s Spanish was limited, she figured out that Maria was asking how to say something in English. Guillermo answered her in a murmur.