Now, a lonely For Sale sign sat in the darkened window, a mocking yellow, loud enough to say to everyone who passed that this restaurant had failed.
At the hospital, Amy found Mitch in the baby ward. She smiled when she looked through the window. Sophie had her breathing apparatus removed and was out of the isolet. Mitch came out to meet her.
She kissed his cheek. ‘Hi. How are you?’
Mitch shrugged and looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes. He always had this washed out, crumpled look these days. ‘I’m doing okay. I was just getting ready to feed Sophie. Did you want to try?’
Amy’s lips parted with surprise, then she smiled and nodded. ‘Yeah. I’d love to.’
For the past couple of weeks, the hospital staff didn’t like family, other than Mitch, going in or out of the rooms, so this would be her first time holding Sophie, let alone feeding her.
Mitch led her into the room where she washed her hands and took a seat next to Sophie’s cot. Mitch leaned over and picked Sophie up, cradling her close to his chest. Such a tiny thing in comparison to this tall, strong man, yet the care he showed lifting and holding her was mesmerising.
He placed Sophie into Amy’s arms like she was as fragile as glass.
Amy peered down at Sophie’s little face, her lips moving and stretching, her baby fingers curling as her arms strayed out the top of the snug pink blanket. She had a light spattering of dark hair, and her eyes were a newborn grey-blue.
Breathtaking.
Exquisite.
‘Hello, Sophie. I’m Amy. I’m a good friend of your mum’s. So lovely to meet you.’
Sophie looked up at Amy, really looked, and Amy’s heart melted as she stared back, awed with the wonder of life. Mitch handed Amy a bottle with a little formula in it, and she brought the teet to Sophie’s mouth. Her lips enclosed over the rubber nipple and sucked until she found a rhythm.
Amy smiled at Mitch, enthralled at this gorgeous little bundle in her arms and the wonderful progress she was making.
Rachel should be here for this.
Her throat scalded as the flames of heartbreak licked at her insides. Rachel should be here holding her beautiful baby, not me. Tears filled her eyes. She tried to blink them away, not wanting to taint this beautiful moment, but they rolled onto her cheeks nonetheless, made her nose water. God, her heart ached.
When she met Mitch’s watery gaze, she tried to smile again, but she sobbed instead. She couldn’t pull herself together. Not in this instance. No way.
Here Amy was holding her best friend’s baby for the first time, and her best friend would never get this chance. She should be here.
Mitch stroked Sophie’s cheek as tears fell down his face.
Chapter 15
Wednesday morning, Tom headed past the sorting shed. A morning load of Merlot grapes had been harvested, were on the conveyor belts, and being sorted. The vineyard was noisy and hectic. Their entire year, all the planning, all the maintenance, everything, led to this moment.
So far, it was proving to be a bumper crop. But the true proof would be in the tasting months down the track after the fruit was given time to ferment.
The pressing moment at hand was if last seasons’ Cabernet Sauvignon vintage was ready for bottling. With harvest in full swing and bottling to come, it was all hands on deck. Never had there been a year where they’d needed Mitch more.
His palate was telling him the Cab Sav was ready to go. And their buyers were putting on a lot of pressure to get it out on the shelves. But he would prefer to have Mitch back him up.
Mitch had the innate knowingness their father had possessed, but without him here, Tom had to trust his own and Sam’s instincts. So, for the first time ever, without Mitch’s final approval, they made the decision to start bottling, but neither of them could definitively know it was the right one. And that’s what had Tom’s stomach twisted in knots.
In the bottling sheds, he met with Sam where he was signing off on the labels’ designs with their graphic designer. Tom had looked at them on Friday but didn’t want to give it the go-ahead without Sam seconding it.
On their way out, Sam said, ‘I’m heading over to the office to organise these bottle and label orders.’
‘Sure. I’ll catch up a bit later.’
Tom wanted to check the sorting lines to see the quality of fruit coming in. And to make sure the seasonal workers were accepting and rejecting the right grapes. The last thing they needed was a bunch of foreign particles or rotten grapes making it into the vats.
Later that afternoon when Tom was about to head into town to pick up some hardware, Mitch rang.
‘Hey, mate,’ Tom said, answering as he climbed into his car.
‘Tom?’ Mitch sounded frantic.
Tom’s heart thud out a deep, rapid rhythm. Is Sophie okay? He would not cope if anything were to happen to her. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Rachel’s fucking parents,’ Mitch yelled. ‘I just kicked them out. Told them not to come back. The nerve of them!’
‘Hang on, hold up.’ Mitch was talking so fast, he couldn’t understand a single word of it. ‘Is Sophie okay?’
‘She’s doing fine.’
Tom let out a sigh of relief.
‘It’s Barbara and Pete. If they step foot anywhere near me, God help me but I’ll—’
‘Hold up. Hold up,’ Tom shouted. ‘Barb and Pete? What did they do?’
Mitch’s harsh breaths announced his explanation. ‘They suggested they take custody of Sophie. They think it would provide a more stable environment for her. Give me time to grieve … or some such bullshit.’
‘They what?’ Tom yelled, his mind dizzy, light.
‘I’m so angry, I want to punch a fucking wall. How dare they? Who the hell do they think they are?’
Tom ruffled his hand through his hair, then slid it down his face. ‘Oh, hell. I’m with you on this one. That is not okay. But surely they’ve got no rights to do this anyway?’
‘I can’t even think right now. Can you check it out for me? Call a solicitor if you have to. But they’re not getting their hands on my daughter.’
Tom sighed into the phone. ‘No. They won’t. Let me get on to it.’
‘Ring me back.’
‘I will. Go have a cup of tea or something. Decompress for a bit. And don’t ring Barb or Pete, got it?’
‘Yeah, mate.’
Tom hung up. His breaths were heavy, and his pulse was galloping. He looked up to the afternoon sky. Mitch doesn’t need this shit. Not now. He drew in some calming breaths, trying to think rationally.
Why would Barb and Pete even suggest such a thing? Mitch had lost his wife, sure. He was grieving. He was a little out of sorts, not himself, but he was devoted to Sophie one hundred per cent. He was there every single moment he could be.
Interfering, do-gooding …
Tom dialled Amy. She knew Barbara and Pete well. Maybe she could talk to Rachel’s parents and find out what their thinking was.
‘Hi, Tom?’
‘I’m not interrupting anything?’ he asked.
‘No, just about ready to start cleaning up.’ He could hear clanking and different noises in the background. ‘I can multi-task.’ Her voice was light, so dissonant to his own emotions.
‘I was hoping you could help Mitch out with something.’ He’d tried to keep his voice calm, but anger was punching through with each word. ‘Barbara and Pete have suggested they take custody of Sophie—’
‘What?’ Amy screeched.
‘I know. I don’t understand what the hell they’re thinking.’
‘I’ll give them a call.’
Tom blew out a long breath. ‘That would be great. I’m heading into town now. I’ll drop by in about an hour.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you then.’
Tom went to the hardware store to buy the loose tools he had intended to get before going to see Amy. The scent of sawdust and scuffed cement floors was nostalgic. The shop hadn’t changed since h
e was a kid and would stop by with Dad most Saturday mornings.
He hurried out of there and headed towards Sugar Cakes. Old Man Jeffrey was shuffling down Main Street towards the newsagency to buy himself a one dollar scratchy. In the morning he bought the newspaper, the afternoon a scratchy. He wore an old brown hat and oversized brown coat. Tom often wondered if they were the only clothes he owned.
Even when Tom was a kid on the way to school, Old Man Jeffrey was a permanent fixture in this town. Tom waved as he passed.
So much of this town had stayed the same, yet Tom’s life felt like it was screaming ahead, not stopping to slow down and take in the sights.
A couple of smiling customers were coming out of Sugar Cakes as he pulled into the driveway and made his way down the back. Amy was mopping the front section when he went inside. The closed sign had been placed on the front door.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Amy jumped and turned to face him. ‘You scared me. I was deep in thought. Didn’t even hear you come in.’
‘I’ll try to make more noise next time.’
She smiled.
Absolutely breathtaking. He cleared his throat. ‘Did you get a chance to ring Rachel’s parents?’
She nodded. ‘Go put the jug on. There’s a box of cupcakes on the counter out there. Leave some for Sam.’
‘Of course.’
Two steaming coffees in mugs were sitting on the bench in front of Tom. He had already devoured two Cupid cupcakes as well by the time Amy joined him out the back. The scent of bleach and floor cleaner were strong undertones to the otherwise sweet, edible scent this store held.
She sat beside him, sipped her coffee.
Tom’s leg was bouncing up and down as he anticipated what she had to say.
‘I spoke to Barb,’ she said.
He nodded.
‘She seemed upset more than anything.’
‘How so?’
‘The way Mitch flew off the handle. He was aggressive. Even shoved Pete in the chest. But I wasn’t there, so I can’t back her story up.’
Tom squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
‘Supposedly, Mitch had been having a bad day. They found him in the cafeteria acting like a zombie. Sophie had a rough night. She wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t taking the bottle easily. They’ve no idea how much sleep Mitch had, if any.’
‘But that’s what the hospital staff are there for.’ Agitation tainted his tone.
‘You know what he’s like, Tom. He thinks he has to do it all.’
Amy was right. Mitch was hell bent on doing it all, no matter the cost.
‘Anyway, when Barb and Pete were talking to him, they said he was apathetic. Miserable even. He was telling them he was scared to take Sophie home because he had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t know how he was going to cope. So Barb, off the cuff, suggested if he thought Sophie would be better off with her and Pete until he was coping.’
Tom rubbed his face hard. ‘And Mitch went ballistic?’
‘Pretty much. She swore she would never interfere and only wants to be in Sophie’s life in the normal grandparent capacity. She thought she was doing him a favour.’
‘Hmmm,’ Tom said. ‘It was a case of miscommunication.’
Amy nodded. ‘Seems like it.’
‘So they don’t want custody?’
Amy shook her head. ‘They don’t want custody. It’s breaking her heart seeing Mitch like this. She thought she was helping. But she did then say that if Mitch wasn’t coping and Sophie was in any kind of danger, then they would step in—’
‘She won’t be in danger, for Christ’s sake!’
‘I know. I told her that I’m going to be there and that you and Sam are going to be there. Besides, Mitch would never put her in any sort of danger. And Barb and Pete will be able to visit and perhaps take Sophie for a day from time to time. Between us all, Sophie will be the most spoilt, thriving little girl on the planet.’
‘So you think Mitch just blew it out of proportion?’
‘Yeah. I do. I know Barb and Pete. They’re not vindictive people.’
Tom agreed. From the brief interactions he’d had with them, they didn’t seem to have an unkind bone in their bodies. Much like Rachel.
‘Rachel would hate to know this was happening,’ she said.
‘I know.’ He stood, held his mobile up. ‘Let me give Mitch a quick call, to explain.’
‘Sure.’
Tom left through the back door and called Mitch from outside.
‘Amy spoke with Pete and Barb,’ he said, scraping the toe of his shoe along the cracked driveway.
‘And? Have they come to their senses?’
He explained as best as he could all that Amy had just told him. It took Mitch a while to see through the angry red haze.
‘So they don’t want to take Sophie from me?’ Mitch asked.
‘No. It was a misunderstanding.’
A sigh of relief. ‘Thank fucking … I can’t handle much more of this.’
‘I know, mate. Don’t give it another thought. You just concentrate on bringing that little girl home.’
‘Yep.’
‘Give me a call if you need to,’ Tom said.
‘Yeah, mate. Talk to you later.’
Tom hung up and hoped Mitch wouldn’t do or say anything stupid that he might regret.
Tom used a moment alone outside to collect himself. As far as he was concerned, Mitch was an easygoing man, but lately, he was finding it harder and harder to maintain that state of mind.
After a few deep inhalations, he headed back inside and sat next to Amy.
‘All okay?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. Thanks so much for calling them.’
Amy shrugged and waved his thanks away. ‘Not a problem.’
He wanted to reach over and pull her into his arms. He wanted to make this all better for her and for him. But he couldn’t, so instead, he lifted to his feet. ‘I … I better get going.’
She nodded imperceptibly. ‘Sure.’
When he made it to the door, she called to him, ‘Tom.’
He spun back to face her.
‘I know it’s really busy for you at the moment with harvest and everything, but did you and Sam want to come over for dinner Sunday night? I feel like I owe you guys.’
Tom nodded. ‘Sure. That sounds great.’
‘About six?’
‘I’ll see you then.’
Chapter 16
Amy opened the door on Sunday evening to find Tom standing there. The tugging sensation in her chest eased a little to see that it was only him.
Today had been one of her harder days. There was no real reason, no real trigger, but she had been lost to her memories, the emotional pain just below the surface of every action. Perhaps because she was here alone, not a great deal to keep her busy, and her mind had the space to wander.
‘Hey,’ he said as he stepped through the front door, reaching for her to stroke a finger down her cheek. She leaned into that anticipated touch, craving the comfort, but at the last moment, with a frown on his face, he pulled away. ‘Everything okay?’
She drew in a sharp breath, nodded, but today she wasn’t okay. After some small progress, she’d been thrown into a deep ditch and needed to claw her way out of it again. Grief was a fickle creature, hiding in the shadows waiting for the slightest signal of weakness.
‘Sam sends his apologies, but he decided to go to Melbourne to spend the day with Mitch. He rang a little earlier …’ Tom lowered his head and voice. ‘He’s not in a good way today.’
‘Then it’s best if Sam’s there for him.’
Tom nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s what I said.’
Amy gestured to the bottle of wine in Tom’s hand. ‘Let me grab some glasses, and I’ll meet you on the pergola.’
Tom had the bottle opened and breathing by the time Amy joined him. The sun was setting over the vineyard—a spectacular display of washy water-coloured blends of bright pink, orange
and purple.
A stillness came over the property at this time, a silence encroached upon by the chirping of crickets and squawks of flocks of birds as they flew to their sleeping places. A sweet verdant scent wafted on the barely there breeze that Amy now recognised as the distinct scent of grape vines.
Tom poured them both a glass of wine while Amy told him about holding the baby last weekend, how aware Sophie was when she had looked up at her as though she was taking in everything.
She avoided the details about the sorrow that crept into that moment, afraid if she revisited it, she’d set the crying off again. And she’d had more than enough of that. She couldn’t even make the trip to Melbourne yesterday to see Mitch and Sophie like she had originally planned, too overwhelmed by her own grief.
Tom gave her the layman’s rundown of what was happening in the vineyard at the moment. Amy had never seen so much activity—dozens and dozens of people and tractors in the fields all day long. Not to mention the small trucks and quad bikes roaring around the property.
‘And it’s under control?’ she asked.
He nodded, but there was hesitation in that movement. ‘It’s the first year without Mitch at the helm, but between Sam and I, I think it’s going as well as it can. We never expect a flawless harvest. That happens about once every decade. I’ve yet to experience one.’
‘But it’s all on track?’
‘It’s a big job. And we’re nowhere near finished. I’m frightened to jinx myself.’ He couldn’t hide the coyness in his grin as he tapped the timber table with his fingers. ‘Touch wood, but, yes, we’re on track.’
Leaning over to squeeze his knee, she smiled. ‘Good.’ And she was glad because it was so hard to do anything at the moment with the heaviness of Rachel’s death hanging over their heads and hurting their hearts.
Tom’s stomach growled—a long grumble.
‘Was that you?’ she asked with a giggle.
He laughed, pressed his hand to his stomach. ‘I’ve not eaten since breakfast.’
‘You should have said something. I would have started cooking already.’
He held his hand up and shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’
Bittersweet Page 13
