Alex would ask them what was wrong, but she didn’t have the strength. Instead she rested her head against Brodie and let her eyes drift closed again.
Her mom was running her fingers through Alex’s hair when she woke up.
“Where am I?”
“At the hospital, Mija,” her mom whispered.
Alex closed her eyes again. Between Peyton, Brodie, and Sorcha, she’d spent too much time at this place in the past few weeks. The last thing she remembered was Brodie carrying her to his truck. After that, nothing.
“Why am I here?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Peyton and Brodie found you in the car in your driveway, passed out, Mmija.”
“Where’s Maddox?” Alex turned her head to the side, not wanting to see the recrimination in her mother’s eyes.
“In the hall. Do you want to see him?”
“Can you tell him I’ll call him later?”
Her mother shook her head.
“I don’t want to see him right now, Mama.”
Her mother shook her head again, but stood and walked out of the room. Alex closed her eyes and waited. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Maddox would be the one walking back in instead of her mother.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened and her mother came back in.
“He left.”
Maddox got in the elevator. He’d go downstairs, but he wouldn’t leave. He knew Alex well enough to know she’d want to be alone, but not for long. In fact, he predicted that within the hour, she’d call and ask him to come back. In the meantime, he’d stay close by.
“Can I see her?” Peyton asked when he came in the waiting room.
“You can try.”
Peyton nodded her head and walked in the direction of the elevator. He didn’t need to explain what he meant. She knew Alex well enough to know she’d refuse to see him, but Peyton would be allowed in.
“Has the doctor told you anything?”
He shook his head, and walked to the window. “Lucia said they’re going to keep her here overnight.”
“What’s wrong with her, Mad?”
“I have no idea.”
That wasn’t true, but since Alex only told him she thought she might be pregnant, it wasn’t his place to tell anyone else.
Maddox kept his back to Brodie, not wanting to see the look on his brother’s face.
“You know more than you’re saying.”
Maddox shrugged.
Alex was the only girl among six brothers, and she had been doted on her whole life. She could do and say whatever she pleased, and she did, because she was protected by a pack of hot-tempered Hispanic men, who were a lot like their father.
At least in recent years, Maddox was certain their relationship hadn’t been the secret he and Alex pretended it was. The valley was small and close-knit—news of her hanging out with him would’ve spread quickly. The only person who should have known about it, but didn’t, was Peyton.
When Alex’s father died a little over five years ago, she turned to him, after not speaking to him, outside of saying hello, for over two years. It was the longest they’d gone without talking since she’d turned eighteen. Her father’s death, and how hard it was on her, was the first glimpse Maddox got of the insecurity Alex hid beneath her shroud of strength.
He’d been the one to go to his father and ask that they help the Avilas when Alfonso died. Alex’s father was in the vineyard when a massive heart attack took his life. He was airlifted to the same hospital Alex was in now, although Maddox heard he died before they reached the landing pad.
Her oldest brother, Gabe, had been taking over more and more of the winemaking duties at Los Caballeros, but in their grief, Maddox doubted they’d be able to get through crush without help from area winemakers and vineyard owners.
Laird Butler and his sons hadn’t been the only people in the valley to help, they’d just been the ones who helped the most. With their land bordering one another’s, it only made sense that they could be there more often and more easily. No one would’ve thought much of it if it hadn’t been for the longstanding feud between the two families.
Laird guided Gabe through the harvest and crush that year, walking the vineyards with him. Maddox often heard his father quip, “The grapes will get better and better, until the day they start to get worse.”
The first and most important decision Gabe had to make was when to pull the early varietals off the vines. When to pick each type of grape was the first irrevocable decision in the sequence of winemaking, and a time fraught with pressure, anticipation, hope, anxiety, and ultimately, joy.
As with any other form of gambling, winemakers were forced to determine when to stop the deal and live with the hand they were given. If they picked too early, the grapes wouldn’t be ripe enough. If they picked too late, the grapes would be over-ripe.
There were analytical tools winemakers used to measure sugar, acid, and pH in the ripening grapes, but as much as formulas and target numbers helped zero in on when to pick, the most crucial decisions were made based on a combination of intuition and experience. Together, Laird and Gabe watched vine condition and weather, focusing on the taste and condition of the fruit.
The day they decided to pick the first grapes to ripen, that year or any other, began the busiest and most hectic time of the year for winemakers. Managing one harvest required twelve- to sixteen-hour days, with two, they worked almost around the clock. The Butlers helped the Avilas, and then the Avilas turned around and helped the Butlers.
Maddox and Naughton worked with Alex’s three younger brothers, Joaquin, Sal, and Mateo, to wash and check equipment, prep barrels, and make sure the right yeasts had been ordered and were on site. They were behind schedule, but if worse came to worst, the plan was to transport the grapes and crush at Butler Ranch.
Alex had been out in the vineyards and in the winery alongside him, her brothers, and his, for days that grew longer once each batch of grapes, fresh from the vineyard, arrived at the winery.
Sorting the bad fruit from the good was the first step after picking, and one of the most tedious in the process, but she hadn’t complained.
That year, Sauvignon Blanc was the first varietal to hit the crusher-destemmer machines. When the avalanche of grapes was processed, chaos reigned. Emotions ran high as the long days and nights wore everyone out. Laird insisted they stick to a strict schedule of breaks, so each of them had a chance to sleep more than a couple hours straight.
Gabe confided in Maddox that his own father never would’ve allowed it. “I can’t leave. This is my duty to my family, to my father,” he told Maddox.
Neither realized Laird was listening until he approached. “The more tired you are, the more mistakes you make. Go get some rest. You’ve earned the break. No one would agree more than your father.”
Gabe finally relented and went home to sleep. When he came back several hours later, he thanked Laird, and extended his hand to shake. Instead, Maddox watched his father pull Gabe into a hug.
Word spread quickly through the westside wine community that day—there was a truce between the Butlers and Avilas.
The most grueling and physically taxing part of winemaking came when the red varietals were picked.
For the white varietals, the fruit was pressed, separating it from the skins, and then the juice was put straight into tanks for fermentation. It was a relatively simple process, compared to the reds.
For wines like Cabernet Sauvignon, and other red varietals, the must, which was the combination of split skins and flesh, or pulp, went into vats, where it was left to sit.
When yeast was added to the must, converting the sugars in the grapes to alcohol and carbon dioxide, the gas would push the skins to the surface, creating what was called a cap. To extract the most color and flavor, at least twice a day the cap formed by the skins had to be punched back down.
Everyone hated the job, yet Maddox often volunteered when others complained.
“How do you do it?” Alex asked one night when he offered to drive her home.
“Which part?” he laughed.
“How do you stay so positive?”
“I don’t know. I guess I try to remind myself why I want to be a winemaker. When I spent a year working in French vineyards and wineries, that’s when I really fell in love with the process.”
He told her about the culture of the harvest in France, and how it was entrenched in celebration. “There were hour-and-a-half lunches every day, and at the end of harvest, there’d be grape fights in the vineyard.”
When the last load of the last varietal to be harvested was delivered, clusters of grapes were scattered all over the tractor, and a guy with an accordion would play “La Vie en Rose.”
“It sounds like a fairy tale, but it was very real. I want it to be that way in my winery someday.”
“I like that,” Maddox remembered her saying. “Some people are cup-half-empty people. You’ve always been a cup-half-full person.”
“You never know when the grapes you pick, sort, and process might turn into a great vintage. That’s what it’s all about, right?”
“The start of something magical.”
Maddox wondered that night if Alex was talking about the wine, or about them.
Since that first harvest after her father died, he and Alex had been together more than not.
She was usually the one who walked away, refused to talk to him or try to work out their differences, but Maddox hadn’t ever pushed very hard. He let her come back in her own time, always believing she would.
“I told you, there’s nothing to forgive,” Alex told Peyton.
“I was so wrapped up in what was going on with Brodie and me, and then Lang petitioning for custody of Jamison and Finn. I knew something was up with you. I should’ve taken the time to talk to you.”
“There was nothing to talk about.” Twenty minutes ago, the doctor came in and told her she had a mass on her ovary so large that it had blocked her menstrual cycle, and she had developed an infection.
Their plan was to surgically remove the mass and keep her ovary intact, so she’d be able to get pregnant in the future. Given the infection, the surgery had to be performed almost immediately, before sepsis set in.
“Alex?”
“What, Peyton?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “No.”
“Does Maddox know what’s going on?”
Alex shook her head.
“Why are you shutting him out?”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to see him right now. You, of all people, should understand.”
“You forced me to see Brodie.”
“I didn’t force you to do anything.”
“Let him in, Alex. He’s worried about you.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You’re such a hypocrite. Yesterday you didn’t want anything to do with Brodie. Now that you’re engaged and everything is happily ever after with you two, you’ve forgotten the last few weeks?”
“I was wrong. And what you’re doing now is wrong.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted for me? You wanted me to forgive Brodie. I know you did, because you told him what to say.”
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“You did. He told me you did.”
“All I told him was not to say he was sorry until he told you the whole story about what happened that night. That’s it, Peyton. And as far as my not wanting to see Maddox right now, it isn’t any of your business. We aren’t together in the same way you and Brodie are. We never have been.”
“You’re the hypocrite, Alex.”
“That’s enough. Let her be.” Both Alex and Peyton jumped when the door opened and Maddox walked in. “Peyton, do you mind giving us a few minutes?”
Peyton stood and kissed Alex’s forehead. “I love you, and that’s all that really matters, Alex.”
“I love you, too,” Alex whispered, knowing she was going to cry, and wishing there was some way she could stop herself.
When the door closed behind Peyton, Maddox sat on the bed next to her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“I have a mass.”
“You’re not pregnant?”
She shook her head, and when he reached for her, buried her face in his shoulder and let herself cry.
4
“I’ll be back tomorrow, and don’t worry about new release night. We can skip it,” Alex told Peyton.
“I can handle new release night on my own, Alex. The first trimester was the hardest.” Peyton rubbed her hands over her belly. “The boys were harder for me than this little peanut.”
Alex came in this morning, but after a couple hours, Peyton suggested she go home, and Alex didn’t argue. She’d been home from the hospital for over a week, but still didn’t feel like she had any energy.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” Peyton asked.
She was, but it had nothing to do with her surgery. How could she explain the way she felt when Peyton talked about her baby, when she didn’t understand it herself? It wasn’t as though she had been pregnant, the mass they removed from her body had nothing to do with a baby.
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
“What for?”
Peyton rested her hands on her ever-growing tummy. Alex doubted she even knew she did it.
“That you weren’t pregnant.”
“No reason for you or anyone else to be sorry.”
“You know what I mean.”
Alex nodded. She did know.
“Go home and rest,” Peyton told her. She went home, but she didn’t rest. She didn’t have the energy to do anything, but she couldn’t sleep either. She picked up her phone to call Maddox more times than she could count, but each time she set it back down.
What would she say? Now that they knew she wasn’t pregnant, maybe it was time they parted ways for good. Maybe it had been a sign. He’d always be important to her, and she hoped they’d stay friends, but otherwise, she couldn’t see anything more between them. They’d run their course.
“Son, a word when you have a minute?”
“Yeah, Da. I have a minute now.”
“Come up to the house with me.”
Maddox followed his father up the stone pathway that connected the winery buildings to the main house. It was the house Maddox and his siblings grew up in. When he was a teenager, it seemed so small. Now that his parents lived in it alone, it seemed so much bigger.
It looked like a historic Scottish farmhouse, complete with a granite facade under a slate roof. The porch that wrapped around the u-shaped structure was something his father added after inheriting the property from his parents. He also added the archway they were walking through that led to a courtyard. His father stopped by the pond that sat near the middle of the yard.
“Your sisters used to sneak food out to the koi after dinner. They fed them everything—bits of meat, potatoes. Your ma and I discovered what they’d been doing when Skye tried to feed them ice cream, and Ainsley had a fit when it melted before the fish could get to it.”
Maddox remembered that night. Kade had been home on leave. It was one of the rare occasions all his siblings were home for dinner together.
“How’s Alex?”
“She’s okay.” He guessed. He didn’t know for sure. He only told his father what she told him. “I’m okay,” was about all she’d say before coming up with an excuse to end the call, and that was only when she actually answered.
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Go ahead, Da.”
“I need to get something from the house. I’ll just be a minute.”
Maddox sat on the bench near the pond, and watched the koi fight to get to the spot closest to him. He had nothing to feed th
em, so the fight was fruitless. His father came out the kitchen door, carrying a large envelope. He motioned for Maddox to join him at one of the tables on the porch.
“What’s this?” Maddox asked, looking over the papers his father spread out before him.
“I got a call from Peter Wendt yesterday, asking your mother and me to come to his office.”
Maddox nodded, he recognized the name. Peter was an attorney in town. Thirty years ago, Peter’s father started what was now one of the biggest law firms in the county.
His father laid out a map and pointed to an area outlined in red.
“What is this?”
“It’s a two hundred acre parcel, west of Adelaida.”
Maddox studied the map, and read through some of the other materials. The property was twenty miles due west from where they sat, with views of both the coast and the wine country. There was a stocked, spring-fed pond, a seasonal creek, and an existing well with a water storage tank. The map indicated several structures on the property that had power, although it gave no indication whether they were inhabitable.
“I can’t figure out where this is.”
“Old Creek Road,” his father smiled. They both knew of the prime vineyard location.
“Is it for sale?”
“No, Maddox. It’s not for sale.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
His father handed him an envelope bearing his name.
“What’s this?”
His father stood and patted his shoulder. “I’ll be inside.”
Maddox’s eyes followed his father’s back as he opened the kitchen door and went inside. He opened the envelope and pulled out a letter.
Dear Maddox,
I told you once that I couldn’t imagine myself getting old. When you asked if I thought that meant something, I told you I didn’t know. It was a lie. I knew it meant I wouldn’t see you fulfill your dreams.
This land is yours, Maddox. What you see is not all that is there. There’s much for you to discover, and I promise it is beyond your most vivid dreams.
I know you think you can’t leave Butler Ranch, but you can. In fact, it’s long overdue.
The Truce (Butler Ranch Book 2) Page 4