Baby, It's You (23 page)

He went into the office, where a grandmotherly woman ran his credit card and gave him the key to room number 6. He unlocked the door and found a small room that was trying too hard to be cheerful, with blue walls, a flowered bedspread, and cheap art nailed to the walls. He tossed down his bag, then glanced out the window to see a bar and grill a block down the street called Buck’s Roadhouse, its red neon sign shining through the dusky evening light. He could stay in this room with nothing but cable TV and his own thoughts for company, or he could go get a bite to eat and a couple of drinks and forget about everything.

Five minutes later, Marc walked inside the bar to find a big, dark room lit mostly by neon beer signs and a couple of TVs behind the bar. One wall was filled with nothing but fishing trophies and cow skulls. Country music assaulted his ears, and the smell of deep-fried food filled the air. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a burger and a beer from a balding, middle-aged guy who just happened to be Buck himself. A couple of young guys with long, shaggy hair and baseball caps sat at the other end of the bar, their hands around beer bottles and their eyes glued to a monster truck rally on the nearby TV.

I’m pregnant.

Those words circled inside Marc’s mind until he thought he’d go crazy. As soon as Kari told him the news, it was as if he was looking through a different lens, one that refused to let him see all the joy she’d brought him for the past several weeks.

And Daniel. He’d lucked out the way he always did, and now he was going to get to leave the place he hated and get on with his free and easy life. The unfairness of that settled over Marc like a giant black cloud.

He finished the first beer, and when his burger came, he ordered another one. But he still couldn’t get his mind off what had happened with Kari, so he drank that one and asked for one more. Soon the place started to fill up. No wonder. It was probably the only entertainment within twenty miles.

The bartender switched one of the TVs to a baseball game, and Marc tried to concentrate on that, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering again. He thought about City Limits, a place where he sat down at the bar and Terri was there to bring him his usual drink and chat a little. He could look across the room and see his friends and neighbors, and he knew every song on the vintage jukebox. It was an unsettling feeling to look around this place and see not one familiar face. And not a single person there recognized him. He remembered how much he’d craved that sense of being lost in a crowd, but now it unnerved him, as if he’d been dropped into an alternate universe where everybody was a stranger.

Then the door opened and a woman walked in, late twenties, dark hair, wearing jeans, boots, and a tank top. She slid onto a stool two down from Marc. Buck immediately drew a Bud and set it down in front of her. She pulled a cigarette and lighter from her purse, lit the cigarette with a flick of her thumb, then blew out the smoke.

She’d taken only a few sips of her beer when she turned to Marc. “I’d ask you if you’re new in town, but honey, believe me. I know the men in this town, and you’re definitely not one of them.”

“I’m just passing through.”

“Where are you from?”

“Rainbow Valley.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She told him she worked at the hardware store down the street. Divorced. No kids. But her ex was a pain in the ass because he wanted to get back together and she wasn’t interested. Not that he was abusive or anything like that, she said, but he had no ambition. She was going to beauty school as soon as she saved the money, and all he wanted to do was smoke pot and go fishing with his buddies.

Fifteen minutes into their conversation, she moved to the barstool next to him. Marc ordered both of them another beer and told Buck to keep them coming. But as much as Marc tried to pay attention to the woman, her voice was nothing but white noise to him. He spoke often enough to keep the conversation going, but if somebody held a gun to his head and told him to repeat anything she’d said, he’d be a dead man.

“You seem a little down tonight,” the woman said. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Far as I’m concerned, we can stop talking altogether.”

She accompanied those words with a provocative smile, sliding her hand over to rest it on top of his. She was nice. Reasonably attractive. And available. He’d told this woman he was just passing through, so he had no doubt a one-night stand was all she was looking for. All these years, he’d thought that was exactly what he would be looking for, too.

So why did the thought of it leave him cold?

Somewhere in the depths of his alcohol-soaked mind, he remembered a time when riding the back roads, seeing the sights, staying at tiny motels, and drinking at local bars had seemed like a great thing to do. And if a willing woman presented herself, he’d planned on going for it. But now as it was happening, it seemed odd and surreal, like a dream that started out pleasant enough, only to morph into a nightmare.

He pulled out his wallet and tossed money on the bar.

“Don’t leave now, sweetie,” the woman said. “The party’s just getting started.”

“Thanks for the offer, but not tonight.”

“Then stick around town for a while. Lots of sights to see.”

“Right,” Buck said as he passed by carrying a couple of beers. “Grandma Braddock’s got herself a new lawn gnome. Sure wouldn’t want to miss
that
.”

Marc said good night and headed for the door, his head so fuzzy all he wanted to do was lie down. He stepped out of the bar and started back toward the motel, feeling relieved to no longer be listening to the blaring TVs and inhaling secondhand smoke. A few minutes later, he went into his motel room and locked the door behind him. He sat on the bed and reached for his phone, intending to check the weather. Even though the vineyard was Daniel’s responsibility, it was a habit so ingrained after all these years that he could be six feet under and he’d still be pulling up those apps.

His phone was dead.

He grabbed his bag to retrieve his charging cord, only to realize he hadn’t brought it with him. He’d been in such a hurry to get away that he’d left it behind.

In a hurry to get away? To go where?

Here?

Were you out of your fucking mind?

He tossed his phone aside, closed his eyes, and thought of home, of the evenings he’d spent on the deck with Kari at sunset, staring at the rolling hills and the leafy vines full of grapes. In his mind, he heard their quiet conversation, felt the night breeze, saw the fireflies twinkling in the distance, and tasted the best wine ever produced in the state of Texas. Sometimes on evenings like that, he had the sense that the vineyard had wrapped itself around him, crept inside, and become part of the very blood in his veins. If that were true, how could he separate himself from it without it killing him in the process?

No. That was crazy. How many years had he dreamed of seeing Rainbow Valley in his rearview mirror? He always told himself that the moment he rode past the city limits sign and faced that new life ahead of him, any reservations he felt would vanish.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

He didn’t even bother to take off his clothes or pull down the covers. He just collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes, thinking about the beautiful green-eyed woman who had lit up his life like the Fourth of July. She was pregnant with their baby. He was going to be a father again. And his last hazy thought as he drifted off to sleep was that maybe it wasn’t a nightmare after all, but a dream come true.

As Kari drove home from work that evening, she prayed she’d go into the house and Marc would be there. He would have realized where his heart really was, his despair would be gone, and he’d greet her with a smile and a hug. But when she got back to the vineyard, he wasn’t there. Neither was Daniel. It was just her alone, sitting in that big house, a house that wasn’t hers, never had been hers, a house she’d have to move away from very soon because she didn’t belong there.

She had no idea what Marc would say when he finally did return, but if he still had that look on his face, the one that said everything they’d done for the past several weeks had been a mistake, she’d be forced to move out even if he didn’t ask her to because she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

She filled a glass with water and grabbed a box of crackers from the pantry, feeling so nauseated that all she could do was collapse in a kitchen chair and try to get something—anything—down.

When she finally felt as if she might not throw up, she poured a glass of wine and went out to the deck. She couldn’t drink alcohol now, but just having the glass in her hand and smelling the wine made her think of Marc before all this had happened. The dogs were there with her, stretched out beside her chair, both of them particularly sedate tonight. They said dogs knew the mental state of the people they loved and behaved accordingly. In this place, where pets outnumbered people, she thought it was especially true.

Eventually she went inside and tucked herself into Marc’s king-sized bed, missing him so much tears came to her eyes. As she was falling asleep, she put her hand on her belly, imagining what it would be like to have Marc do the same, then look at her with love in his eyes.

She slept fitfully that night, only to fall into a deep sleep near dawn. She didn’t wake again until almost noon, feeling groggy and disoriented and sick to her stomach all over again. She threw on a robe and went into the kitchen.

Daniel sat at the kitchen table, which meant she was going to have to keep up the facade, to act as if everything was just fine when nothing was going to be fine ever again. He didn’t say a word as she came into the room. He just stared at his phone, and when Kari poured a cup of coffee and sat down next to him, he didn’t even look up.

“Daniel?” she said. “Is something wrong?”

He slid his phone over. She recognized one of the weather apps Marc looked at a dozen times a day, and the screen showed something that made uneasiness creep through her.

“A storm?” she said.

“I saw it last night, but it was going to miss us. Look at the trajectory now.”

She hit the button for live radar with a storm-tracking projection, and as she watched the bright red center of a huge thunderstorm creeping eastward, her uneasiness turned into cold, clammy fear.

It was heading straight for Rainbow Valley.

T
he storm is moving slowly,” Daniel said, “but that means once it starts dumping rain, it’s not going to stop for a long time. We have maybe six or seven hours before it hits.”

Kari went to the window and looked to the west. The late September sun cast a stunning glow across the vineyard, where the grapes were so ripe they nearly burst out of their skins. But in the far distance, she saw pale gray clouds, ones that could become dark thunderheads within a few hours. Then she looked at the vine-covered hills and imagined the grapes soaking up all that water.

A whole vintage can be ruined that way.

The memory of Marc’s words sent an icy feeling right down Kari’s spine. She glanced back at Daniel. He looked angry. Frustrated. So why wasn’t he
doing
something?

“Won’t the rain damage the grapes?” she asked.

“Hell yes, it will.”

“Then they have to be harvested.”

“With what?” Daniel said. “I don’t have a crew scheduled until next week!”

“Can’t you find another one?”

“I already tried,” Daniel said, desperation flooding his voice. “There’s nobody. And Marc’s not answering his phone. He’s probably avoiding me. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t do anything even if he were here.” He closed his eyes. “He’s going to fucking
kill
me.”

“Did you call Nina?” she asked him. “Angela? Can they help?”

“What’s the point?” Daniel said, throwing his hands in the air. “Even if they come, we’ll never get it done in time.”

“Ramon and Michael are here.”

“Two more people isn’t going to cut it. It wouldn’t even be close. Not if we have to harvest in a hurry.”

“At least we can get started.”

“No. It’s a lost cause.”

“We have to try. Can you go down to the vineyard? Do whatever you have to do to get things under way?”

“Kari,” Daniel said with a look of desperation, “you don’t understand. It’ll take two people just to get the grapes that are picked into the destemmer/crusher and then into the fermentation tanks. Those are two people who can’t be picking grapes.”

“Then the rest of us will just have to pick faster.”

“Us?”

“I’ll help.”

“Are you kidding? You’ll barely be able to lift one of the empty five-gallon bins, much less one full of grapes.”

“But I can pick them. It can’t be that hard.”

“The hell it’s not. It’s the shittiest work imaginable.”

“But do you have to have any special skills?”

“Nope. Clip the bunches with shears and throw them in the bins. But do that about a thousand times and you’ll want to shoot yourself in the head.”

“I don’t care. I’m helping.”

“Will you stop being so damned
naïve
? There are only four of us. Six if you count Nina and Angela. We won’t even be able to come close to getting those grapes in. We need four times that many people!”

“Daniel, is that storm going to hit?”

“No doubt about it.”

“Okay. I know you and Marc aren’t getting along. But do you really want him knowing a storm was coming that was going to ruin the crop, but you didn’t even try to do anything about it?”

Daniel looked away, his jaw tightening with frustration. Finally he let out a breath. “No. I don’t.”

“Then go down and get things started. I’ll call Nina and Angela and see if they can come. Then I’ll change clothes and come down there.”

“Kari—”

“Daniel.
Go!
”

Daniel shoved away from the table and left the kitchen. Kari grabbed her phone and called Nina. The second Kari mentioned the extent of the thunderstorm, Nina knew the vineyard was in trouble. She said she’d shut down the shop and head over with Rupert and Bonnie. She also said she’d call Angela on the way, as well as a few other people who might be able to help. Kari felt a tiny glimmer of hope. More people. That could only be a good thing.

Then Nina asked where Marc was.

Oh,
God
. Kari didn’t want to talk about that, and she didn’t want to lie. But what choice did she have? “He took another trip to try out his motorcycle,” she told Nina. “Daniel tried to get in touch with him, but he’s not answering.”

“Well, somebody needs to find him, or we really are screwed. Try him again, will you?”

“Uh…yeah. I will.”

As soon as Kari hung up, she took a deep breath and tried Marc’s number. The phone rang three times. Four. Five. And then it flipped to voice mail. She left a message, telling him the situation and asking him to call back. Surely he’d pick it up.

She went to Marc’s bedroom to put on the crappiest clothes she had, and by the time she’d changed, he hadn’t called back. No matter how much he thought he wanted to get away from this place, she couldn’t imagine him turning his back on this kind of problem by ignoring her call.

Then she had a terrible thought.

She turned slowly to look at his dresser. The power cord for his phone was still plugged in and resting on it where it always was. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of there that he’d forgotten it.

If his phone was out of power, he’d have no way of knowing she’d called.

So there it was. If he happened to see a weather report somewhere else, he might call. If not…

Her only hope was that he was on his way back home already.

She knew she had every right to be upset with Marc for leaving the way he had. But as strong as he’d been for everybody else, maybe he had a right to fall apart a little when he realized the plans he’d been making for years had exploded right before his eyes. But whether he knew it or not, his love for this place went soul deep, and she’d be damned if she was going to let anything bad happen to it as long as there was breath left in her body.

Marc woke to sunlight angling through the partially open motel blinds and stabbing him in the eyes. He turned over to get away from it, only to have his head pound as if a little man was inside it, beating it with a hammer. He put his hand to his forehead with a groan, finally rolling to his back and letting out a heavy sigh. Then he turned painfully to look at the clock.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Good God, how much had he had to drink?

The events of the night before came back to him bit by bit, but everything seemed jumbled, like puzzle pieces rattling around in a box. He remembered walking to the bar. Having dinner and a beer. Having several beers. Then there had been a woman…

He whipped around to look at the bed beside him, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized he was alone.

He rose from the bed and fumbled with the coffeepot on top of the dresser. When the little red light wouldn’t come on in spite of the fact that it was plugged in, he realized the damned thing was broken. He threw the coffee packet aside and put his palms on the counter, bowing his head. Then he slowly looked up again and stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was crunched to one side, and he had a day-old growth of beard that made his creased face look even more pathetic.

And his head was on the verge of exploding.

He was pretty sure he hadn’t grabbed a bottle of aspirin as he was blindly tossing stuff from his medicine cabinet into his bag, but he sat on the bed and went through it anyway, hoping to find one. Then he saw something in the side pocket he didn’t recognize.

He slid it out and stared at it. It was a black-and-white photo. He looked at the tiny identifying words along the bottom.
Worthington, Kari.
Then yesterday’s date. Recognition came slowly, but when he finally realized what it was, his heart stood still. It was nothing but black-and-white blobs all running together, but still he knew what he was looking at.

An ultrasound photo of their baby.

The instant Kari told him he was going to be a father, every restrictive image in the book had filled his mind: Handcuffs. A straitjacket. A noose around his neck. But as he looked at this photo now, he wasn’t thinking about those things. Instead his mind overflowed with memories he hadn’t thought about in a very long time.

He remembered Angela walking for the first time. She’d toddled along for three shaky steps, then fallen into his arms. He’d scooped her up and whooped with joy, and she’d been all smiles. He remembered the ballet recital when she was five and not a single kid on the stage had a clue what to do. It had been a whirl of sparkles and spangles on tiny little bodies, all going in different directions. He remembered the breakfast she’d made for him on Father’s Day when she was ten—overcooked eggs and burnt toast that he’d eaten as if it was five-star cuisine.

How could he have forgotten all that? How could the bad times have dominated his memories, shoving the good times aside until he barely remembered them?

Kari must have put this photo in his bag before he’d stormed out of the house yesterday. Kari, who was back in Rainbow Valley right now, most likely wondering where the father of her baby was and how he could have acted like such a colossal bastard.

Marc dropped the photo to his lap. God in heaven…what was he
doing
here?

He’d told himself that seeing the country would open him up to new opportunities he didn’t even know existed. That after a few years, he wouldn’t even remember what life was like in Rainbow Valley because there was a whole world out there for the taking. But being here now had given him a glimpse of that kind of life, and it seemed like a miserable proposition. A stark highway, a cold barstool, alcohol that had muddled his mind, and a nameless woman who was just looking for a good time.
That
was the life he thought he wanted?

Then he remembered his deal with Kari. No commitment. No strings. Just sex. Was that all she’d ever wanted from him, too? Just sex?

Then he thought about how they made love, about how she looked up at him afterward, her green eyes shining with satisfaction. Looking back now, he could see that their relationship had changed. In a matter of just a few weeks, she’d become a different woman, one he admired in a way he couldn’t have imagined that rainy night she’d shown up on his doorstep. The more his respect for her grew, the more desperate he felt to be with her.

But how did she feel about him?

It was a scary question, because he wasn’t sure of the answer. Then he remembered her words right before he stormed out of his bedroom.

I would never leave you.

She’d said it not once, but twice. He’d ignored her both times, telling her she didn’t mean it, that she wouldn’t be there when the going got tough. How could he have discounted her words as if they meant nothing when they meant everything to him? Would she ever forgive him for that?

He looked at the photo again. It was nothing but gray blobs and dark shadows, but he knew somewhere in it was his future, the kind of future he couldn’t have imagined wanting but now he craved with everything he had in him. He thought about calling Kari, only to remember one more thing from last night—his phone was out of juice. He looked at the room phone and thought about picking it up, but what would he say when she came on the line? He always screwed up when it came to saying the right thing. Always. And he couldn’t risk that now. Not when they were hundreds of miles apart, when he couldn’t take her in his arms and
show
her how much he cared.

His head was pounding. His heart was aching. The only way to make it all stop was to go home. Tell her what an idiot he’d been. Beg her forgiveness. Then take her in his arms and plead with her to love him as much as he loved her.

After what he’d done, though, he was afraid she’d never want to speak to him again.

Kari headed down to the vineyard to find the men stacking empty bins near the first several rows of grapevines. Daniel gave her a crash course in picking grapes. She put on gloves, picked up shears, and started in. At first it seemed like an easy task, but after thirty minutes, her arms and back ached, and nausea churned away in her stomach. She wondered how long she’d be able to keep this up before fainting dead away.

Nina arrived with Rupert and Bonnie, but Kari could already see Daniel was right. They’d never be able to pull this off with so few people.

“It’s hard work,” Nina told her. “Keep going as long as you can, but don’t kill yourself. It’s not worth that. There are a few more people on the way.”

Kari nodded and kept on picking, but as the minutes passed, she grew more hopeless. She had to stop every few minutes and stand perfectly still, squeezing her eyes closed, willing her nausea to subside. The whole time, Daniel’s words circled around inside her head.
We’ll never get it done in time.

Then she heard the rumble of engines, and she turned to see the most amazing sight.

In the distance, several cars and trucks were pulling through onto the property and making their way down the road. They circled the house and came to a halt near the gate leading to the vineyard. People piled out—some Kari knew and some she didn’t—and every one of them was dressed for dirty work.

Kari walked over to Nina. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure. I told only a few people.”

Gus got out of one of the cars. Nina called out to him, “Gus! What’s going on?”

He walked over. “When you told me about the storm, I told a few other people. Pretty soon everybody was spreading the word. There’ll be more folks here soon.”

“They’re coming to pick grapes?” Nina asked.

“Yep. The moment people found out Marc was in trouble, you couldn’t keep them away.”

Within the next half hour, Kari watched in awe as at least thirty people grabbed bins and shears and headed out to the field. Then Rosie and Estelle brought ice chests with food and drinks and set up a spread in the barn. Kari stuck with the story that Marc had taken a motorcycle trip and was out of pocket and had no idea the storm was on its way. Not a solitary person questioned it, and Kari knew it was because they assumed if Marc wasn’t there, there had to be a damned good reason why.

Then Angela arrived.

Kari automatically felt a rush of apprehension. Angela belonged there, and in the last twenty-four hours, Kari had begun to feel as if she didn’t.