“But you didn’t even give me the chance to apologize, Goose. You turned your back and walked away from me before I could say it. So are you finally ready to accept my apology? Is that why you brought me here tonight?” she asked, contempt thick in her voice.
He took another step toward her. “No. I didn’t bring you here to ask for or accept your apology. I brought you here to beg you to accept mine.”
Her arms fell limp at her sides, and she moved toward him.
“I’m sorry for reacting like I did when I found out about the deed. After everything that we’ve been through, I should’ve been able to get it through my thick skull that you were an attorney and had a job to do. And I’m sorry I pushed you away while the business with the deed got resolved. I was—I was just overwhelmed when I found out that I might have a share of Old Garnet, of my home,” he said, his voice breaking. “Can you please forgive me?”
“Of course,” she whispered. “And let me finally say it: I’m sorry for what I said the night of the ice storm. I was hurt, missing you. I thought it was over for us.”
He dropped his head. “Thank you.” She neared him, but he held up two hands and asked her to stop. “Wait. I still need to say some things,” he said, arresting her advance. They were still a few yards apart.
She could not understand why he was keeping her at bay—unless it really was over. Harriet felt the tears starting to form, ready for the ultimate rejection she feared was imminent.
“I used to think we were so unlike. Opposites, you and me. I thought for a long time that’s what drew us together at The Cooperage, that whole opposites attract thing. The nice girl,” he said, gesturing to her, “hooking up with the bad boy,” he said, pointing to himself. “But I realized that was stupid. That we’d both bought into the stereotypes people had about us, a myth that was supposed to keep us apart, when we’ve really been connected by a common thread.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re in love. In fact, I know now I’ve been in love with you since The Cooperage. There’s no other way to explain how I’ve felt about you for the past five years. I’ve just been waiting for you to come back to me, that’s all.”
They moved to each other until they were no more than a few feet apart at the hub of the wheel. The only thing between them was the small red circular part of the floor.
“And even though I’m here, grateful for your forgiveness, saying I love you, I can’t tell you I want that thing called next with you. I don’t know what that is, anymore, Harriet. For me, that word means something short term—the next minute or the next hour or day or even year. Next is tomorrow or the day after that. I’m done with next. I’m tired of it, if that’s what we had. I want more.”
He wanted more? Did that mean…
Taking her hands, he looked directly into her eyes and pulled her to his chest until their bodies were at last touching and he was looking down into her face.
“I don’t want a next with you, Harriet Hensley. I want it all—all the days to come, all the months, all the years, all the rest of our lives.” He took a step back from her, released her left hand, and dropped to one knee while still holding her right. “I want forever, Harriet, and I only want it with you. I’m not going to be another Davenport who gets stuck in the past, I’m not going to keep waiting, and I’m not going to let time run out on us.” Goose kissed her hand and looked up at her. “Marry me.”
“Yes,” Harriet said immediately. She teetered on her feet from the emotion of the moment and the day.
And then she fainted.
* * *
Goose rose quickly from his kneeling position and caught her as she collapsed.
It wasn’t the scene he’d hoped for, but he was happy that he’d gotten a yes, and he laughed as she fell into his waiting arms.
Then he wondered whether she’d remember she’d said yes. Or whether he’d proposed at all. He’d spent days thinking about what he’d wanted to say to her, praying, trying to work up the nerve to call her. Now after his carefully rehearsed proposal, Harriet was out cold, and he toted her limp body to one of the couches that had been pushed up against a wall outside the tasting room.
Goose laid her on the couch and then went across the lobby to get his coat. After folding the parka and placing it under her head, he sat cross-legged on the floor next to her.
He was grateful for the opportunity just to look at her. Goose had often watched her while she slept and had missed these quiet moments. Even when she’d been snoring. He had missed her, everything about her.
Goose brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it. Harriet began to slowly stir awake but then bolted awake and sat up straight.
Wide-eyed, she blinked at him. “Did I just faint?”
“Yes.”
“What was the last thing you said to me?”
Goose got down on one knee again in front of Harriet. He took her left hand and looked directly at her, her eyes widening as he did so.
“Marry me.”
“It—it wasn’t a dream?” He pinched the top of her thigh through her jeans. “Ow!” she cried, jumping off the couch a little.
“Harriet, do you remember your answer?” he ventured.
She put her hands aside his face. “Yes.”
She pulled him into a long, sweet kiss, their first kiss in weeks, their first kiss as an engaged couple.
Their first forever kiss.
When they broke apart, Harriet was blushing, and she buried her face in her hands.
“How lame was it that I fainted? I fainted! When anyone asks about how you proposed, I’ll have to tell them I passed out!”
“It’s a great story,” he assured her and patted her knee. “Our kids will love it.”
Her hands fell from her face.
“Our kids?”
“Yeah, Parker and George.”
She looked dumbstruck for a split second, then laughed, and it echoed throughout the visitors’ center. To him, her joyful noise sounded more delightful and divine than the choir he’d heard on Christmas Eve in church.
He stood and pulled a still-giggling Harriet to her feet. They immediately fell into a tight embrace, and the gentle kisses on the couch were quickly forgotten. Harriet wove her fingers into his hair as his entire soul reawakened in her presence and under her touch. Her lips found his and demanded notice, but he soon took control and rained down a flurry of deep, hard kisses which quickly left her sighing in his arms. Goose’s lips swept across her neck while his hands moved under her sweater and up her back.
“Ah,” he said, not feeling a clasp, “it’s in the front.”
“Not so fast there,” she said, jumping away from him. “I distinctly recall being lured here with the promise of ice cream. Give it up. Where is it? In the café?”
“You really want to interrupt our playtime for ice cream?” he asked, creeping toward her.
“Yes.” She continued to back away from him as he stalked her.
“Then you’d better get your coat on.” He went to retrieve his parka from the couch.
“But you said you had the ice cream here.”
“No, all I said was that I had some. I just didn’t say where.” He put on his parka and grinned.
“But—wait—it’s at your house?” she asked, drawing closer to him until they were both at the hub of the bourbon flavor wheel once more.
He nodded. “Waiting for you right now on the table on the deck, along with a bottle of Old Garnet and a jar of cherries. The lanterns are there, too, but I’ll light them when we get back to the house.”
“You were pretty damned confident about my answer tonight, weren’t you?”
“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “Just hopeful on a Christmas night.”
Harriet’s head dropped. “I don’t even have a Christmas gift for you.”
He took her into his arms. “You just gave me your gift, Harriet. You gave me forever.”
He kissed her on the forehead and she b
uried her head in his chest. They held each other tightly as they stood on the Gaelic inscription, each knowing their need that night had been quenched by the true waters of life: hope, love, and forgiveness.
Epilogue
Pepper Montrose had never cared for the day after Christmas.
Even as a child, in the midst of a new collection of trinkets, toys, and candies, there was something sad about the day. All the presents had been unwrapped, replaced by crumpled paper and plain boxes. Glitter and anticipation replaced by the dullness of a winter’s day. And in the years after her father had left, the day became desolate. The fun of expectancy had been stolen from her because the number of boxes under the tree were considerably reduced.
She had wanted to relax that day after Christmas since the holiday itself had been so difficult. Pepper feared it was likely the last Christmas she and her mother would be able to spend with the Bucklers.
Instead of enjoying herself and the magnanimous hospitality the Bucklers continued to extend, Pepper had been consumed with caring for her mother, making sure she ate, didn’t wander through the Bucklers’ home, and that she was safe. Glenda Montrose’s condition was getting worse, and Pepper knew hard choices were ahead.
After dropping her mother at her adult day care program at the senior citizens’ center adjacent to the hospital, a weary Pepper headed to GarnetBrooke. She knew she should be grateful for her part-time job doing data entry at the thoroughbred farm but was still resentful she had to go into work the day after the holiday. She needed rest and time with her mother, but both of those things seemed to be in increasingly short supply. And she’d had precious little time to go to the animal shelter lately, her one escape from reality. The last time she’d been out there was several weeks ago to help Hannah Davenport select a distillery cat. According to Hannah, Old Garnet hadn’t had one in years because seeing a cat around the distillery had made her late mother sad. The last kitty, an excellent mouser, had died shortly after Hannah’s father had passed away, and her mother couldn’t bring herself to get another one to replace it.
Low on gas, Pepper pulled into the service station at the northern edge of Bourbon Springs and filled up her car, her stomach growling loudly as she topped off the tank. A strong gust of wind chilled her, and Pepper pulled the hood of her coat over her head, covering her long red hair. Deciding to grab some coffee and a bite to eat, she went inside and was greeted by the proprietor, Carlon, a thin, gangly man who had to be at least into his seventies and who knew most of Bourbon Springs by sight as well as name.
“No rest for the wicked?” he called to Pepper from behind the front counter as she poured herself some coffee and the hood slipped from her head.
“Seeing as how we’re both here this morning, that would certainly seem to be the case.” She brought her coffee and danish to the counter, and Carlon pointed to the lottery sign.
“Up to over $30 million now,” he said of one of the jackpots. “Feeling lucky today?”
“No, but give me a ticket anyway,” she said, pulling out her wallet.
“You really waste your money on that?”
Pepper turned to see Jon Buckler entering the shop. “Once in a while.” She turned back to the counter to pay.
“Not a complete waste,” Carlon said as he handed Pepper her ticket and the receipt for her purchases.
“How do you figure that?” Jon asked. He was dressed in a suit and apparently on his way to court somewhere, although she thought the local courthouse was closed that day.
“If it buys a little slice of hope,” Carlon said, “I wouldn’t consider it a total waste of money.”
Pepper smiled. “A nice way to put it.”
Jon shrugged and grunted, and his cynicism irked her.
“Hey, now,” Carlon called to Pepper as she took a step to leave. “Don’t forget your bourbon balls!”
One of the reasons the service station was so popular—besides being one of only a handful in town—was that it offered three free bourbon balls with every fill-up. While locals much preferred the ones found at Over a Barrel and the distillery since they were bigger, better, and guaranteed to be made with Old Garnet, no one in Bourbon Springs was going to turn up their nose at a handful of free bourbon balls. Pepper had asked Carlon where he’d gotten the idea once, and he told her that the owner had seen a popular gas station-bakery outside Lexington offer a free donut or pastry with every fill-up and realized he had a golden idea on his hands.
After Carlon gave Pepper her small paper bag of bourbon-infused candy, she bade both men good-bye and saw Jon looking over his shoulder at her as she departed. Pepper felt sad as she left, but she wasn’t thinking about the day ahead. She was thinking about Jon. Their friendship had withered, and she missed him, even though they’d spent most of Christmas Day with each other and had gone to Bo and Lila Davenport’s wedding together.
The drive to the farm was like gliding through the proverbial winter wonderland. The overnight snow had left a clean white blanket of the fluffy stuff, and the distillery grounds and the farm looked peaceful and magical.
But whatever spell the snow had cast upon her mood was shattered as Pepper approached the main entrance to GarnetBrooke. A large black-and-white sign bearing the words FOR SALE greeted her as she pulled into the driveway and inserted her security card into the gate.
She needed this part-time job. It was impossible to make ends meet on her teacher’s salary. She’d been lucky to get a grant from an Alzheimer’s support foundation recently to help with rent so she and her mother didn’t have to keep moving around. They’d moved so many times over the years she’d lost count of how many places she’d called home. Maybe she could get a job at the distillery—Lila had told her they were always in need of good tour guides, and Pepper had been a guide in the past. But that job probably wouldn’t pay nearly as well as the one at the farm.
As the gates to GarnetBrooke opened to admit her, Pepper intuitively knew with a strange calm that her days as a farm employee were numbered.
* * *
The distillery was usually closed on New Year’s Day, but the owners of Old Garnet, all four of them—Bo, Hannah, Lila, and Goose—decided they had to make an exception.
The tourists would not leave Old Garnet alone.
Interest in the distillery had not abated since Jacob Elijah’s birth. Although the press curiosity had diminished, the tourists kept coming. So the decision was made to open on the first day of the year, just this once, to accommodate the expected crowds.
But the tourists weren’t the only reason for opening the distillery that day.
Hannah and Lila declared that Harriet and Goose needed a proper engagement party, and opening the distillery on New Year’s Day was part of that celebration.
Throughout the day in the tasting room, in addition to the taste of straight Old Garnet, guests were treated to a glass of Bluegrass Bubbly in honor of Goose and Harriet. The happy couple appeared at a few of the tastings, drinking the bourbon treat along with the tourists. As a result, by the end of the day, Harriet and Goose were quite giddy, and Goose was tired as well because he’d helped give tours. Since he’d been the hero to deliver the baby, he was in high demand as a guide, prompting Hannah to remark that maybe they needed to charge more for tours by an owner.
Harriet had lost track of her intended in the crush of people, flurry of well-wishers, and haze of just a touch too much uisce beatha. After looking for him in the gift shop, the clerk directed her to the tasting room.
“Said he was going in there to sketch a few things. Had some ideas.”
Harriet hastened to the tasting room and cast a quick admiring glance at the bourbon flavor wheel on the floor of the lobby. She couldn’t wait to see the next idea Goose was working on.
She found him sitting alone in the room at the table toward the front, where the tour guide stood and directed the bourbon tastings. But instead of being surrounded by glasses of bourbon and an open bottle of Old Garnet, Goose looked
like a student hunched over a desk, hard at work.
“Someone said you were having ideas in here.” Harriet pulled up a chair to sit next to him.
“Yeah, but whether they’re any good remains to be seen.”
He shuffled a number of white sheets of paper upon which were several sketches of bottles.
“Don’t tell me Old Garnet is going to get a new bottle design.” She picked up one of the drawings. “Or is this the bottle design for that Garnet Reserve I keep hearing so much about? I thought that bourbon was several years away from release.”
“No, this is very different.” He revealed the plan for Elijah’s Choice. “Hannah put out a press release about it a few days ago. They’re going to start selling barrels now and marking them for the buyers while the interest is still so high after the baby’s birth. Some big-time buyers, like a chain of liquor stores and some well-known bars around the country, have already expressed interest. Hannah thought we should have a special bottle design for when the bourbon is ready.”
“And you get to design it?”
“I kinda insisted on it,” he said proudly.
Harriet held the sheet of paper in front of her and considered Goose’s design.
It was sleek, elegant, and simple.
Unlike the regular Old Garnet bulbous-bottomed bottle, Goose’s design was essentially a rounded-off rectangle. It had a flat, wide front with narrow depth, a short neck, but with the same wood-and-cork stopper as the traditional bottle.
Goose had also sketched a simple square label for the bottle.
At the top in the center was one star; an arrow on the sketch indicated the color was to be gold.
In each corner was a small oval; Goose’s notes indicated these shapes were to be red.
And Goose had sketched an image of some kind of fabric around the neck of the bottle.
“Okay, I get the four ovals are supposed to be garnets—but why four? I thought there was only one on the traditional label.”
“Those four garnets represent the four current owners.”
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2) Page 60
