by Iris Morland
“Based on flimsy evidence.” Jaime slapped at the papers. “This is concrete, my friend. This shows that you’re a weaselly piece of shit who would do anything to screw me over for God only knows why.”
Eric’s eyes darted around. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“I’m not the piece of shit,” he growled, his face turning red. “I’m not the one who got a job he wasn’t qualified for, just to fill some quota. I’m not the one who then had the audacity to start fucking the boss’s sister. But now you’ve turned Grace into your little whore—”
Jaime grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall before Eric realized what was happening. “Do not ever speak of Grace that way,” Jaime hissed, his vision turning red. “I already warned you once. Do you want me to break every rib, every finger, every toe, every bone in your body? Because if you even so much as think of Grace, I’ll make you pay.”
Eric gasped for breath. Jaime let him go, and Eric rubbed his throat, swearing.
“I want to get this over with. I have the evidence that will send you to jail, and even if some jury finds you innocent, we all know that the scandal will destroy you and your family.” Jaime watched as Eric’s eyes widened, the first bit of fear crossing his face. “Ah, so now you care? Eric O’Neill, the son of the prominent senator, getting arrested for embezzlement. That’ll make his campaign a hard sell, don’t you think?”
Eric spat. “Fuck you, Martínez.”
“You’re the one who’s fucked. Either I take this evidence to the police, or you disappear from my sight. Either way, once your father finds out, I’m sure you won’t get a cent of his money.”
Eric’s face got progressively redder, his eyes flashing. Jaime stood and waited for him to give in. The O’Neills were such a prominent family in the state and country that any hint of scandal like this would be a huge coup. Jaime hadn’t known how much Eric would care about something like that, but clearly, it mattered.
“So what’s it gonna be, Eric?”
Eric refused to look at him. He stared at the ground, like it would give him some kind of an answer to Jaime’s question. Jaime could feel the wind picking up, and snowflakes melted against his face as the clouds opened up.
“Either give me an answer or I’m taking this to the police.” When Eric didn’t reply, Jaime began counting down. “Five…four…three…two…”
Eric stood up and, reaching into his coat pocket, pulled out a gun. His arms trembled as he held it, but Jaime stilled as he aimed it straight at his head. The snow began falling faster around them.
“Fuck you. Fuck you and everything you stand for,” Eric said. “You can’t make me do anything. You’re going to jail because you’re the one they want, not me.
An odd sense of calm enveloped Jaime. Perhaps he knew that Eric didn’t have the balls to shoot him. Or maybe this was just how you felt before your last moments. If he was supposed to die here today, he only hoped that Grace would find happiness.
But Jaime didn’t want to die here today in cold blood. He held up his hands, placating Eric. “You don’t want to do this,” he said in a low voice.
The gun trembled in Eric’s hands. “Yes, I do. I’ve dreamed about shooting your brains out. It would be worth it.” But his voice bespoke his fear, and his eyes were wild.
Jaime stepped toward him slowly. “Put the gun down, Eric.”
“Fuck you. Stay away from me!”
Jaime stopped. His heart hammered so hard he could barely breathe. Snow fell on his face, melting against his hot skin.
And then before he could say another word: a gunshot, deafening the world around him.
19
Grace sat at Joy’s and stared at the clock. The minute hand seemed to slow down with each passing second, until she had to stand up and pace around the room. Joy watched her, saying nothing, because there really wasn’t anything that could be said.
Jaime was out there confronting Eric because he was a brave idiot and she hated him as much as she adored him. She wanted to be there for him, but he’d made her promise she’d stay put. So she had. She waited, and she paced, and she prayed that this would be over before the sun lowered below the horizon that day.
“Grace, you’re giving me a headache. Come sit down at least.” Joy patted the couch cushion next to her.
“I can’t. I can’t sit still.” Grace wrung her hands. She felt like an army wife left behind while her husband was deployed. Except her man was only a few miles away, and with every passing minute, she wondered why she’d agreed not to go with him.
A knock sounded on the door. Joy raised an eyebrow and then after looking through the peephole, opened the door to allow both Adam and Gavin inside.
Grace turned. When her brothers saw her, their eyes widened.
“Grace, what the hell happened to you?” Adam demanded as he came toward her.
“Was it that boyfriend of yours?” Gavin gritted his teeth. “I swear to God, I’ll kill him myself…”
Grace put up her hands to stem the tide of male rage. “No, no, Jaime would never hurt me.” She touched her cheek. She’d thought she’d put enough makeup on to cover it, but apparently not.
Gavin tilted her face so he could inspect the bruise closer. “Who did this?” His voice was low, dangerous. Grace had to stop herself from shivering. While Adam was a bundle of rage, Gavin’s anger was quieter.
“Eric O’Neill attacked me. Jaime is with him right now.”
Both men yelled, “What!” at the same time, and then the questions started pouring in. Joy, seeing that Grace was about to tell them to go away, tugged the Danvers brothers to the couch, made them sit, and told all three of them that they were going to discuss this like adults and not do anything stupid.
“He hit my little sister! Are you pressing charges? Why didn’t you go to the police?” Adam was about to stand up, but Joy pushed him back down onto the couch.
“Let your sister talk,” Joy said, pointing a finger in his face. “Yelling over her isn’t going to help.”
“I’m not yelling!” he yelled.
Grace just buried her face in her hands.
After Joy had gotten the two brothers to quiet somewhat, Grace told the story as best she could. Adam looked close to storming out to enact some kind of medieval vengeance, while Gavin listened more attentively, but with an equal amount of rage. Joy sat next to her fiancé, and he held her hand, like her physical presence barely tethered him.
“So he’s with him right now?” Gavin leaned forward. “Why does he expect to do? Have some kind of duel?”
“He wants this over and done with. I told him it would be dangerous, but he’s stubborn.” Grace felt tears press at her eyelids. “I’m so afraid for him. Eric is a loose cannon…”
As she spoke, Adam turned pale. Joy noticed and pulled at his arm. “Hey, what is that face?” she asked. “You’re scaring me.”
“As I was driving here, I heard gun shots.” Adam licked his lips; his eyes were stark. “I thought it was deer hunters, but now…”
Grace didn’t stay to listen to anything else. She grabbed her phone, stuffed her feet into her boots, and threw her coat on as the sound of her brothers’ shouts followed her. She didn’t hear anything as she got into her car and began driving the few miles to River’s Bend. She barely heard the operator at the end of her call to 911, and she didn’t recognize her own voice: strangely calm and level. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.
When she got to the vineyard in record time, she hid her car some distance away and began running. She heard shouts as she neared the main building, and then there was another gunshot. She covered her mouth to stifle a scream.
Running, she went to the back of the building, hiding herself in an alcove. She knew Jaime would kill her if he saw her, but she couldn’t simply just stand around and let him die. She gazed around the corner and saw that both men were still standing. No one was bleeding, as
far as she could tell. Jaime was trying to get Eric to calm down as he continued to wave his gun, his expression frantic.
“Don’t do this,” Jaime said. “You don't have to do this.”
“You’ve given me no choice!” Eric leveled the gun at Jaime once more.
Grace wondered if the earlier shots were warning shots. Or perhaps Eric’s aim had been too abysmal to hit his target, given his emotional state. She watched, horrified, as a gun was pointed at the man she loved, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Then, the blessed sound of sirens. Eric wheeled around, and a group of cops converged on him.
“Drop your weapon!” When Eric didn’t move, the officer shouted once again, “Drop your weapon!”
Eric bent down and placed his gun on the ground. Before Grace could even blink, he was surrounded and on the ground, his arms behind his back as he was handcuffed.
Grace saw Jaime take a deep breath, leaning over to put his hands on his thighs. She didn’t think. She just ran out and wrapped him in a huge hug, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Grace…Grace, what are you doing here?” He hugged her back, so hard her ribs ached. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He tilted her face up so he could look at her.
“Adam heard gunshots and I didn’t think, I just knew I couldn't let you do this. You could’ve died.” She covered her mouth to keep the sobs from pouring from her throat.
“Jesus Christ, you fool.” Jaime kissed her, then kissed her cheeks, her nose, her chin. “You stupid little fool. God, Graciela, I told you stay put!”
“And I told you this was too dangerous for you to do alone!”
After that, no more words were needed. They couldn’t stop touching each other, couldn’t stop kissing, like if they broke physical contact, one would disappear into the ether. Jaime could call her a fool over and over again, but she didn’t have the strength to get angry about it. They were both fools.
Everything moved quickly. Eric was taken away, and the remaining officers interviewed Jaime and Grace. One of the officers was none other than Sheriff Jennings, who gave them both a look like he wasn’t remotely surprised they were involved in something like this. Coming up to them, his hands at his belt, he scowled at the two of them.
“Can you tell me what happened here?”
Grace glanced at Jaime. He cleared his throat, and then replied in a level voice, “I’d prefer to get in contact with my lawyer before making any statements.”
The sheriff merely harrumphed, but nodded. Before he turned away, though, he said, “You’ve gotten into quite a number of binds around here, Mr. Martínez. One wonders how much longer you can stay in Heron’s Landing without burning the whole place down.”
Grace held onto Jaime’s arm, feeling him tense from the insult. Medics came to attend to them, which they both waved off. Grace just wanted to go home. After some more questions and then even more questions from Adam, Gavin and Joy, who had shown up soon after, Grace and Jaime headed back to his place.
“You’ll be all right?” Joy asked her. “You don’t want to come back to my place?”
Grace shook her head. “I’ll be all right. I’ll text you later.”
Grace’s phone started exploding with phone calls from her parents and pretty much everyone else in the town. No one could believe what had happened, and rumors swirled ravenously. One story said that Jaime had tried to shoot Eric in the head, while another said that Eric was a part of the mob and had been hired to take Jaime out on some hit job.
Grace talked briefly with her mother, assuring her she was all right.
“Come home as soon as you can,” Julia said, her voice wavering. “We miss you. We were so scared for you, honey. I know you and your father aren’t agreeing lately, but we both love you so much.”
Tears sprang to Grace’s eyes. “I know. I love you guys too. I’ll talk to you later.”
Jaime muttered something about eating. Grace wasn't hungry, but he seemed to need to cook something. She heard him puttering about the kitchen, swearing and chopping and sautéing what seemed like everything in his fridge. She sat on the couch and tried to wrap her head around everything that had happened.
Her brain wouldn’t work, though. She kept remembering the sound of those gunshots, the way Eric had pointed that gun at Jaime. She closed her eyes and it was all she could see.
“Don’t think about it,” Jaime said as he sat a plate in front of her. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.”
She stared at the grilled cheese in front of her, and her stomach turned. “I can’t eat anything.”
“At least drink something.”
She forced herself to swallow some water, which helped her feel a little bit better. But she just leaned her head against Jaime’s shoulder as he ate.
“My parents were in El Salvador right as the civil war began,” he said softly, not looking at her. “They’ve never told me everything they saw, but I know that some of their best friends and so many family members just…disappeared. When I asked them how they coped, they said all they could do at the time was look forward. If you look back, the past will take over your future.”
Grace rubbed his back. “I’m so glad you’re all right. The thought of you out there, that gun…” She choked back a sob.
He turned toward her, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t think about it. Don’t. It’s over. It’s over, Graciela. Even if they still charge me, Eric won’t be getting out any time soon for attempted murder. You’re safe, I’m safe.”
She shook her head. “You’re not safe if you end up going to jail, too!” She plucked at his shirt, like she could find the answers she was looking for in the weave of the cotton. “I want to help you. I want to, but how can I? You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
Jaime just held her. They held each other as afternoon turned into evening.
Grace’s phone rang. Seeing that it was her mother again, she said, “I should probably go home.”
He nodded. “They’re worried about you.”
“Will you be all right by yourself?”
“Go, Graciela. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She leaned down to kiss him, and he hauled her into his lap, kissing her until she gasped for air. He murmured her name against her hair.
“I have to go,” she said, extricating herself from his arms.
He kissed her fingers before he finally let go.
GRACE COULD BARELY COMPREHEND the passing of time anymore. She didn’t see Jaime again until three days later, despite calling him multiple times. He’d told her he was busy talking to his newly hired lawyer, to the cops, and everything was such a mess that he hadn’t had time to come by to see her.
Although she missed him, she was glad to get home for a bit. Julia hovered over her, especially once she saw the bruise on her cheek, and Grace had cried in her arms for a while, a cleansing kind of cry that made her feel somewhat better. Carl—never particularly demonstrative—embraced Grace in a bone-crushing hug, and although there was still anger and frustration between them, she realized that her father loved her, in his own way. She’d hugged him back, hoping that they could return to what their relationship had once been.
On Monday, Christmas Day arrived. Grace had forgotten about it in the swirl of events, although the Danvers house was suitably decorated with the requisite tree, lights, and various Santa figurines. That morning, Grace came downstairs to find her entire family—including both brothers, Joy, and Emma—all in the living room. They exchanged presents and ate a Christmas breakfast. Grace had neglected to buy anyone a present, for which she apologized profusely. Julia had merely leaned over and rubbed her arm, telling her she didn’t need to worry about that.
The rest of the day was spent playing with Emma’s new toys—Grace sat on the floor with her niece next to her as they dressed dolls and built Lego sets—and although she couldn’t stop thinking about Jaime and wished he could be here, she also was glad to be with
her family now. She’d missed them. They drove her crazy most days, but they were still her family.
But when it began snowing later that evening, Grace stood at the window and felt tears fall. She didn’t know. She just knew something was going to happen.
Emma came up to her. Her blue eyes gazed up at her. She didn’t say a thing, but just leaned against Grace, holding her hand. Grace placed a hand on her hair, stroking her blonde locks, and she let the tears fall just as the snow outside fell across the land.
Jaime called her to say that they needed to talk. The following morning, she met him at his house, the snow still falling. She stamped her boots and brushed off the snow from her coat as she came inside, shivering.
He came up and took her coat before handing her a mug of hot cider. “Freshly made,” he said.
She inhaled the scent of cinnamon and apples and sighed.
Once sitting, she drank her cider and waited, knowing that Jaime needed to get whatever it was he needed to get out—out.. As the silence lengthened, anxiety started filling her. She remembered her tears from last night, and it had seemed like a premonition of some sort.
She sat her mug down on the coffee table.
“I’m leaving,” he said, not looking at her.
The words didn’t register. “Leaving…?”
“Leaving Heron’s Landing.”
She stared at him, her eyes widening. She wasn’t surprised, and yet, hearing the words was another thing entirely. “For how long?” she whispered.
He finally caught her gaze. His face was sad, resigned, but also stubborn. “For good.”
“But what about your job? The vineyard?” What about me?
“I don’t have a job anymore. Do you think Adam wants to keep me on?” Jaime ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in a place that thought I was capable of stealing from my friend.”
Her lower lip quivered, but she bit it to stem the tide of tears. She was tired of crying, tired of feeling like her heart was breaking. “So that’s it? It’s just over?”