by HELEN HARDT
“What the hell kind of answer is that? You can’t erase a sin, Floyd. The sin already exists. You can ask forgiveness, but you can’t erase it.”
He closes his eyes. “Will you… Can you…forgive me?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I didn’t go to rehab,” he says. “I never got clean. I couldn’t. I had to live with what I did. I never forgave myself.”
“Then we have something in common,” I say. “Because I’ll never forgive you either.” I stride toward the door.
“Please. Son.” His voice is broken and cracking.
“Ask for forgiveness in hell.” I open the door and walk out, slamming it shut.
That horror. That perversion Donny and I lived through.
Perpetrated on us by our own father.
I stand outside the door to Floyd’s room when the machines start blaring once more. The nurse rushes by me and enters. Seconds later—
“Code blue!” she cries.
I stand against the wall as staffers roll in a crash cart in slow motion. Broken words meet my ears.
BP ninety over sixty. Septic shock. Kidney failure. Arrhythmia.
He’s gone.
I know in my heart. He’s gone.
They’ll try for several minutes to resuscitate him, but he’s already gone. In his warped mind, he did what he had to do. He spilled his last secret and begged for forgiveness.
Should I have given it to him?
I’ll never know the answer to that.
For I have my own secret. My own reason for needing forgiveness. If I ever reveal it, I’ll lose the love and respect of the person I’ve known the longest.
I can’t let that happen.
So I’ll take that secret to my grave.
Chapter Fifty-One
Ashley
I don’t work the harvest. Ryan gives me some paperwork to handle, and since it’s Saturday, he lets me go by three p.m. I head to Dale’s, let Penny out, and refresh her water. He’s still not home, and I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning. I send a quick text.
Hey, how is everything?
Call me, please. I love you.
Dale’s not a huge texter, but he does usually respond, albeit in very few words. When he doesn’t, I assume he’s driving home, which means he’ll be here soon.
I want to do something special for him. I’m not the cook that he is, but I have a few recipes in my repertoire. I surf through the freezer. Beef, beef, and more beef. If only he had some—
Aha! Fillets of cod buried under a pound of ground beef. Did he sneak it in after I told him I know how to prepare cod?
Warmth rushes through me. He must have. Tonight I’ll surprise him with cod à la Ashley. I can make a white wine and butter sauce with garlic and capers. I know he has those two staples in the door of the fridge. As for white wine, I have my choice from his wine cellar in the basement. No fresh vegetables other than salad greens, spinach, and peppers. Sautéed spinach will go nicely with the cod, and I can make a mock rice pilaf with the peppers, brown rice from the pantry, and Dale’s myriad spices.
Not perfect, but it will be good, wholesome food that will be ready soon after he arrives.
I head down to the basement to Dale’s refrigerated wine cellar. A dry Sauvignon Blanc is my white of choice for cooking. Chardonnay is a little too oaky unless it’s not aged in oak, and very few Chards aren’t. I choose a wine—not from Steel Vineyards—and head back up to prepare my feast.
A half hour later, Dale still hasn’t arrived. My brown rice is nearly done. Do I start the fish now? Fish only takes about ten to fifteen minutes to cook, and there’s nothing worse than overcooked seafood of any kind. It gets rubbery and tough. Cod has a tendency to dry out as well.
I look at my phone sitting on the counter. Still no response to my text.
I check the rice. It can go for about ten more minutes.
Ten more minutes.
I pick up my phone to text Dale again, but something stops me.
It’s my heart. It drops to my stomach.
“Be careful, please. Driving, I mean.”
“I’ve been driving for twenty years.”
“I know, but you’re upset.”
“I’m not that upset.”
“Just come back to me. Promise?”
“I’ll be back. Count on it.”
He made a promise to me. To come back to me. But some promises can’t be kept through no fault of the person making them.
Images splatter into my mind. Dale slumped over his steering wheel. Blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Glass shards splayed over him. Sirens. Wailing sirens.
“No!” I say aloud. “Just no!”
Then the door. Feet clomping.
“Dale!” I run to him, throw myself into his arms.
And all is right in my world once more.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Dale
Ashley’s in my arms.
She’d comfort me if she knew I needed it, but I don’t want comfort right now. I don’t know what I want.
Revenge?
The man’s already dead.
He sold his children.
He sold Donny.
He sold me.
To a bunch of psychopaths who starved us, beat us, raped and humiliated us. I was ten years old, but to hell with me.
Donny was seven. Still a kid. Still slept with that stupid-ass teddy bear.
I used to give him such grief for it. So much I wish I could take back.
So much I can’t even bring myself to think about.
“Hey.” Ashley melts against me, hugging me.
She’s warm. Warm and loving and familiar.
But I don’t want warmth at the moment. I don’t want love.
Familiarity?
Even that doesn’t sound good.
Normally I’d run to my vineyards to seek something with a semblance of tranquility. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. It’s harvest time. The vineyards belong to everyone during harvest. Usually I accept this, because harvest is my favorite time of year—when the fruits of our labor begin a new journey.
I want something unfamiliar.
I pull back from Ashley. “We need to talk.”
Her blue eyes widen. She’s expecting the worst. She thinks I’m going to dump her. It’s written all over her face.
She’s wrong.
I gave her my word. Two months. I’m nothing without my word. I’ve gone back on my word only once, and I’ll pay for it until the day I die.
“I need a favor,” I say.
“Of course. Anything.”
“I need you to stay here for a few days. Take care of Penny.”
“Well…sure. But where will you be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dale, what’s wrong?”
“Floyd is dead.”
“Oh.” She presses her fingers to her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” No truer words.
“It’s okay to feel something.”
“Oh, I feel something, all right, but it’s not even close to sorrow.”
She reaches for my hand, but I whisk it away.
“Please,” I say. “Stay here. Take care of my dog. There’s plenty of food in the pantry, fridge, and freezer. Or you can eat at the main house with my parents.”
“Dale, I—”
“Please, Ashley.” I rub furiously at my forehead. “For God’s sake, don’t ask me a bunch of questions I can’t answer. Just promise me you’ll take care of my dog.”
She falls back, her beautiful lips trembling. “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of her. Whatever you need. Always.”
“Thank you.”
“But it’s harvest. We’re just about to—”
“Damn it, Ashley!” I push my fingers through my hair.
Her eyes widen. “You look…”
“What? I look what?”
“Like… Like a lion. Ready to pounce on prey.”
My dick is hard, all right. It always is when Ashley’s around. But if I take her now, it won’t be for love.
It will be in anger and rage about something that has nothing to do with her. Indeed, she has no idea what it even is, and if I have my way, she’ll never know.
Maybe I’m not fit to live with others. Maybe I need to go somewhere, build a life alone. Live like a hermit. Or a nomad. I can wander the world, see all its sights…
I’ve considered this path before, and as much as it appeals to me in some ways, I’ve never followed it. I’ve always thought of others.
And now, I not only have my family to consider, but a woman who…
So I won’t take the path of least resistance. I won’t. But I need these few days, maybe even a week.
I need to go.
“Dale…”
“What? For God’s sake, what?”
“Running away isn’t the answer.”
I don’t respond. She’s right, of course, but what she doesn’t know is that I have no choice. I have to run. If I don’t, I can’t be responsible for what I may do.
“Can you at least tell me where you’re going?” she asks.
She’ll pester me until I give her something, so I reply, “To the mountains.”
“Without Penny?”
“I need to be alone.”
“Please, I—”
“I’m done talking about this. Tell my parents not to worry. I’ll text Uncle Ry that I’m taking a few days off.”
“They’ll worry anyway.”
“That’s on them, then. I’m going to pack.”
“Dale!” Her tone has changed. It’s angry now. She’s going to fight me.
She will lose.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
She whips her hands to her hips. “Well, I haven’t. I’m not letting you run away like this. Whatever’s going on, you shouldn’t be alone right now. I’m here for you. That’s what you do when you love someone, Dale. You feel their pain with them.”
I rub at my temples, trying to ease the throbbing that has erupted. “I don’t want you feeling my pain. I don’t want anyone feeling my pain. It’s mine, damn it! All mine!”
“Bullshit,” she says. “I don’t buy it. Not for a minute.”
“You’re not me, Ashley. No one will ever be me, so you don’t know what’s going on in my head. Believe me, you don’t want to know.” Truth. I don’t want to know myself half the time.
“You want a fight?” she says. “You’ve got one.”
“I don’t want a fight. You’re the one who’s determined to fight me on this. I just want to go!”
“What if I block the door?”
I shake my head. Really? This is where she’s going? “I’ll move you.”
“Take your best shot.” She walks to the back door and plasters herself against it.
I stalk toward her, lift her into my arms, and—
She wraps her arms around me and kisses me. Hard. Her tongue probing the seam of my lips until I open for her without meaning to.
I can’t help myself. I love her. I want her. I need her.
I’m going to take her. Right now in my kitchen. I walk to the island and set her on the granite countertop, our lips still fused together.
I unsnap her jeans and use both hands to slide them, not gently, over her hips. I get as far as her knees. It will be a tight fit, but I don’t give a damn.
Our lips still sliding against each other’s, I take care of my own jeans and free my aching cock.
With one swift thrust, I’m inside her.
Fuck. So tight, even with her wetness. Her legs are pinned together by her jeans around her knees, which makes for narrow paradise between her legs.
I fuck her hard. I fuck her fast.
I’m concerned only about my own gratification. It’s all about me this time. All about me and the broken soul inside my body.
She groans into my mouth, finally breaking our kiss and gasping. “Dale!”
If she tells me to stop, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.
She doesn’t.
She holds still and lets me take what I need. I fuck her. Just fuck her. And when I release, I bury myself in her comforting body, pulsating into her, grunting.
I love you.
The words don’t leave my throat.
I love you.
Still don’t.
I love you.
“I love you,” she says.
I pull out, then, satiated, and leaving her sitting on the counter, I head to my bedroom where I pack a bag quickly.
Within fifteen minutes, I’m in my truck, en route to…
To somewhere else.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Ashley
Two days later, and Dale is still gone.
He hasn’t stopped loving me. I believe it with all my heart. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have asked me to stay at his place, to take care of his precious dog.
“It’s just you and me, girl.” I give Penny a pet on her soft head as I attach her leash and take her to the car. “Let’s go find your daddy.”
I’ve been here on the ranch long enough to know my way around. But even if I didn’t, I’d still be able to find my way to the Syrah vineyards. That first night with Dale, when he took me, is etched inside my brain as if I was born with it.
Penny sits in the passenger seat, panting, as we make the drive. I try not to think too much, but my mind never fails.
When I try not to think, I think, and I think a lot.
I finger the garnet necklace around my throat. And I think.
“And you never let anyone wear it? Not even the woman you were in love with?”
“No. Now turn around.”
I’m trembling. Actually trembling, as I turn around and pull my hair off my neck.
He clasps the necklace, his fingers warm against my shivering flesh. The piece is heavy and cool against me.
I turn toward him. “Well?”
He smiles. “Now I have.”
“Now you’ve what?”
He draws in a breath, his forehead wrinkling. Then he relaxes—as much as Dale can relax—and his lips nudge into a smile.
“Now…the woman I love has worn it.”
I park the car, grab the backpack and Penny’s leash, and walk to the Syrah vineyards. The harvesting tools sit at the foot of one of the rows. About half of the Syrah has been harvested. I walk to the little shed Dale showed me that first night.
Of course the shed is locked. I didn’t expect it to be open. I don’t need Dale’s tent and sleeping bag. I won’t be here long.
But I need to be here. I need to be here with Penny. And with Dale.
I look toward the mountains, where the sun set an hour ago. Dale is somewhere up there. Alone.
He didn’t even take his dog.
“Let’s sit, girl.” I plunk onto the ground.
If I sit, if I touch this ground that he finds so hallowed, maybe I’ll understand why he left. Maybe I’ll understand that thing inside him that he can’t share with me.
Maybe…
Penny lies down next to me, and her body against mine is a warm comfort. I rub my arms to ease the chill.
Dale told me to bring a jacket that first night. Why didn’t I bring one tonight? The weather was warm today, but nights are a different story. At least I’m wearing long sleeves.
I grab the backpack and open it. I pull out a bottle of water and pour some into a bowl for Penny. She eagerly takes a drink. I take a drink from the bottle myself, letting the water coat my dry throat.
I won’t cry.
I’ve cried enough tears for Dale Steel.
I gave him all of me. My body, my heart, my soul.
I take another drink and then look up at the sky. So many stars! If possible, I think more are visible tonight than the first night here with Dale.
Except that I was so consumed by Dale that night… His enthralling red-wine voice. His blond perfec
tion. His dark countenance.
I hardly noticed the stars.
Dale still consumes me, but at least I can see the stars now. They’re bright and dazzling, and they seem to twinkle. Ha! There’s truth in that song from my childhood, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
“You like those stars, Pen?”
She’s not looking at the stars, of course. Her eyes are closed, her head resting on my thigh. Such a sweet pup.
She loves her daddy. If I let her, would she lead me to Dale? How far into the mountains has he gone? I’ve no doubt Penny could find him, but I won’t put her through that. Who knows how long it would take? I’m not exactly a backwoods type of girl.
I sigh and pull the bottle of wine I packed out of the backpack. “Let’s have a toast,” I say to Penny.
I uncork the bottle and pour a glass.
“Something’s missing.” I pull the votive candle out of the pack. “Candlelight would be nice, don’t you think?”
Yeah, I’m talking to a dog. She seems to understand me though. She licks my hand at the mention of candlelight. I take that as agreement.
I strike a match and light the votive inside its crystal holder. Lovely. The candlelight flickers through the glass, casting diamonds on the ground and vines.
“If only I had a cigarette now,” I say to Penny. Then I force out a laugh. I don’t smoke. I’ve never smoked. Though I wouldn’t say no to a joint right about now. I gave that up years ago, but sometimes a little herb helps when your world is imploding.
This is a lovely place. Peaceful and tranquil, especially at night, when no one else is around. I understand why Dale finds solace here. What I don’t understand is why he won’t let me provide what he needs.
“What do you have that I don’t?” I ask the vines.
I stop then and I actually listen. As if I truly think they might answer me.
The only response I get is a soft breeze that makes me rub at my upper arms once more.
I sit for a few more minutes, waiting for the vines to say to me what they say to Dale when he’s here. To reveal those secrets that give him peace.
To reveal Dale to me.