Harvest Moon

by Sharon Struth

  He stacked the latest signed contracts, pulled his keyboard closer, and entered a few sparse details into a spreadsheet he’d created to track retailers who’d agreed to carry the vineyard’s wines.

  About to shut off the computer, he paused. This morning, for the first time since he’d started regular correspondence with Etta, he’d ignored an e-mail she sent.

  Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders ever since reading the drafted e-mail from her side of the computer the other morning. Now a reply to anything she sent made the secret he kept seem more dishonest than ever.

  He logged into his account, recoiling as he considered how his true identity might be perceived. A new e-mail from Etta sat near the top of his inbox, the subject “Finally! Your Lyrics.” With everything going on, he’d nearly forgotten his last musical piece remained nameless and wordless.

  To: Ry@ecleticexpression.com

  From: Musetta@yahoo.com

  My Dear Ry,

  Ta-da!!! The long waited lyrics to your inspiring music are presented to you on a silver platter. Yes, it took me far too long to get them done, but the creative muse cannot be forced.

  Since you once said the music was about hope, the accompanying words are filled with my hope. The true inspiration came from two very important people who got me here. You, my friend, are one of them.

  Trent read the lyrics, then read them again. His throat tickled and eyes watered. Her words brought new meaning to his creation and enhanced his message.

  This was how he’d confess to Veronica the truth about their dual relationship.

  * * * *

  Veronica twirled in front of the long mirror behind her bedroom door, and the skirt to her retro halter dress lifted like a blooming flower, showing a peek of her thighs. She smoothed it back into place and slipped on a pair of black, patent leather sandals.

  Without thinking, she reached for her strand of single pearls, but hesitated. Tonight a force inside her body made her stand a little taller, like a soldier walking into battle fully prepared and ready for a fight. A change of uniform was in order.

  She went inside her drawer and removed a blue jewelry store box. Opening the hinged lid, she could still remember the anniversary of her first date with Marc, when he’d given her the silver chain holding a single large pearl encased in a marcasite surround. After their breakup, she’d stored it away because it reminded her of him, but over time she hadn’t worn it because it didn’t suit her usual style.

  Once the chain was hooked around her neck, it dangled about two inches above her cleavage and was a perfect match for the red dress. Still a pearl, but a new pearl.

  With a half hour until Trent arrived to pick her up for the party, she went into the kitchen and poured a glass of white wine. She wandered to the sliding doors near the deck, staring outside and sipping her drink. The home seemed quiet without Boomer, but leaving him at Emily’s house was easier than worrying about him if she decided to stay out late.

  Gary’s shadow had followed her all day, like an imaginary stalker. The words she’d dreamed of saying to him varied—a garbled and uncertain tone one minute, strong and filled with rage the next.

  What if over the past two decades, he’d turned into a super nice guy? What if he’d found Jesus and repented for his sins? What if he took her aside and apologized profusely, with claims he’d received help for his problem?

  Or maybe, just maybe, he was still a vulture who preyed on women, who’d somehow managed to fool everyone around him about his true nature. She shuddered, goose bumps trailing along her neck.

  She went to the kitchen table and flipped open her laptop, locating the invitation. A last minute change by the couple was possible, although improbable. She skimmed through the guest list, and they still showed a solid yes.

  By some force of their own, her fingers ran along the keyboard and typed in his name into the search bar and hit enter.

  A number of hits appeared, and one showed his picture on a site for a real estate agency. She clicked the link to an ad for “Tishman Realty—Three locations in Fairfield County to Serve You Better.” Gary wore a tan blazer with a logo on the lapel.

  She studied the photographs on the website: pictures of him with other agents, a picture at an award banquet for a Connecticut realtor group. His toothy, Crest-perfect smile glowed in every photograph. Confidence still radiated from him, evident even via the computer monitor. Intense brown eyes and neat light brown hair with a few peeks of gray, all parted on the side and giving him the appearance of a mature, life-size Ken doll.

  She stared at Gary’s face. In her mind, she repeated the words she wanted to say. I’m not scared of you. You’re sick. You need help.

  Tonight Gary Tishman would finally receive her long overdue message.

  * * * *

  Trent sprinted up the four steps of Veronica’s porch. She opened the door before he could knock, a touch of worry behind her smile. The urges to help her get through tonight strengthened.

  “You’re early,” she said.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you.” He came inside. “You get more and more gorgeous every time I see you.” He took her hand, stepped back and twirled her in a dance move, making her skirt spin while he wolf-whistled. “Pearls, I might need to have you now. Right here, in this doorway.”

  She grinned. “Like you almost did at our lunch rendezvous yesterday?”

  He coaxed her closer. “Exactly like that.”

  She brushed the lapel of his black sports jacket, tidied his shirt collar, then kissed him, the taste of wine lingering on her tongue.

  “Not only are you beautiful, but…” He licked his lips. “I’d say you taste as good as a chardonnay aged in oak.”

  “Good guess. Do you miss wine?”

  “Maybe a little. The hard drugs were always my real downfall, but it’s better to stay away from everything. At least for now. You drink what you want.” He patted her bottom and leered. “I’ll sample you.”

  She laughed. “Sounds like a good deal for me. So, ready to go?”

  “Hold on.” He lifted her single pearl, alone on its chain. A gem that had survived invasion, now left bold and beautiful. He kissed it and let it fall. “I like it. Now let’s go.”

  Chapter 24

  “This town is even smaller than Northbridge.” Veronica stared out the passenger window as they passed the storefronts of Millerton, New York. She cut a sideways glance Trent’s way. “We’re a couple of minutes from Gail’s house.”

  “Good.” Trent noted she’d been quiet during their ride, and just now thought he caught a glimpse of nerves behind her eyes. “Have your friends lived here long?”

  “They bought the place about ten years ago. When Eli hit it big in the market, Gail insisted they get a weekend home close to the city.”

  They drove for a while in silence, Veronica offering the occasional driving instructions. On the town’s outskirts, they turned into a long driveway leading toward a white farmhouse. Cars already lined the spacious lawn.

  They parked and Veronica pushed open her door.

  Trent reached for her wrist and she turned to him, her large, dark eyes questioning why he’d stopped her. Before she could say a word, he kissed her, tender and with passion, hoping to ease her mind, letting her know he stood by her side as she faced the enemy.

  He pulled back and winked. “Now we can go.”

  They got out. Veronica slipped her purse over her shoulder and a lace shawl over her forearm. Hand-in-hand, they walked toward distant piano music and voices, blending with sounds of chirping crickets from the woods surrounding the rural property. The sun kissed the horizon and promised a beautiful night. Knowing what they were about to walk into, he could only hope.

  Veronica mentioned some friends who’d be here, giving Trent a little background on the group and how their bonds had formed. Only once did her voice show even a crack, at the mention of Carin, who he’d seen in the photograph with Gary
. They followed a slate path to the back of the house.

  A small crowd had already gathered under a large party tent, situated between an in-ground pool and the antique farmhouse’s stone patio.

  “There’s Gail.”

  She led him to the tent. Twinkling party lights hung from the ceiling, sparkling like stars above guests and round tables, covered with colorful floral centerpieces. Veronica panned the area, silent, staring at clusters of guests, her lips tense. She gripped his hand, tighter than ever before. More than anything, he wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t.

  Trent leaned close to her ear. “Hey, Pearls darling? If you want to arm wrestle, at least give me a heads-up.” He lifted their hands. “You’re strong.”

  “Sorry.” She smiled, gave him a playful squeeze.

  They went over to a group standing by the bar. He surveyed the area for the man from the photograph or his wife.

  “Ronnie!” Gail shrieked, stopping the conversation in their circle of people.

  Veronica hugged her friend, who showcased a rich beach tan set against a white sundress. Gail’s short, edgy hairstyle said Manhattan chic, not surprising, since Veronica had said the family spent most of their months in the city.

  She took Trent’s arm and drew him closer. “This is Trent Jamieson.”

  “Welcome, Trent. Geesh, Ronnie. Where’ve you been hiding this one?”

  “No hiding at all. He came in the new batch of arrivals we get every year in Northbridge.”

  Gail grinned. “Trent, this is my husband, Eli.”

  Trent shook hands, and then Eli hugged Veronica. “Can I take your things? We’ve set up a spot in the guest room down the hall for purses and jackets, right near the bathroom.”

  Introductions were made with people Veronica already knew. Trent pretended to listen while he combed the crowd. His skin pulsed, nerves eager and still filled with rage over the details of Veronica’s rape.

  And yet here she stood, talking and laughing with her friends, ready to face this creep.

  He placed a hand on her lower back, whispered in her ear, “I’m going to get us drinks. White wine? Something else?”

  “Wine is good.” She smiled, making him wish he could share the pride swelling inside his chest over her bravery tonight. He went to the bar, got her drink and a seltzer with lime. A couple rounded the corner of the house. Trent stilled and watched them, thinking it was the couple. As they neared, he saw it wasn’t.

  When he returned with the drinks, Veronica was talking about the tasting room opening tomorrow. Trent shared some details about events during the day, the food they planned to serve and how he’d be playing with his band later that night.

  Every so often he’d catch Veronica glance around the yard, subtle movements where he’d see a glimmer of fear in her gaze. All while he stood by, hands tied by a secret. Her secret. His secret. If only one of them had been bold enough to share. Frustration he couldn’t ease her worries mounted, but he tried to hide it and listened to the old schoolmates chat about their classes.

  Veronica’s laughter drew his attention her way. “Gail, I think your memory of that class is clouded by the crush you had on the professor. He never—” She quieted and stared out into the yard.

  Trent followed her gaze.

  A couple headed toward the tent. Tall torches cast a golden glow along the path to the party, enough light so Trent could make out the newcomer’s faces, and also the reason behind Veronica’s silence. His jaw tightened, and he impulsively clenched his fist.

  “…he never tested us fairly. Right?” Veronica turned to a third woman from their school days, who agreed.

  Trent continued his study of the new arrivals. Without a doubt, he could take this guy.

  Veronica put a hand on his forearm. “Want to get something to eat?”

  “Sure.”

  Leaving their drinks at the first empty table they found, they went to the buffet. While they put food on their plates, Veronica kept glancing toward the group they’d just left, where the man and woman Trent had seen on the invitation spoke with Gail.

  Trent filled his plate but noted Veronica took very little. He couldn’t blame her. Hell, even his own gut was twisted in knots right now, mostly driven by having to hold tight to the reins of his rage.

  They returned to their table, sat, and ate for a few minutes. Neither spoke, yet both picked at their food, glanced around the tent, often staring in the same direction…toward her attacker. Trent’s silence ate away at him. He wanted to scream, promise to protect her tonight.

  She pushed some salad around the plate and looked up. “I think you’re a hit with my friends.”

  He stopped cutting a piece of skirt steak. “Good. I’m enjoying them, too. Want to try a bite of this steak? It’s great.”

  “No thanks.” She quickly glanced to the other side of the tent when Gary’s loud laughter carried across the cool night air.

  The only thing he could do was take her mind off her troubles. “Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Duncan got in trouble in college for putting a live chicken in the dean’s office?”

  Her gaze wandered over to him and expression shifted from worry to amusement. “Your brother?” She laughed and appeared to relax. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

  “That’s why it was hilarious. Here he was, this perfect kid who never did a single thing wrong his whole life. Then his first semester in college, he decides to join a fraternity and they make him pull that prank. Only it figures he’d get caught.”

  Veronica’s eyes brightened. “Did he get in trouble?”

  Trent didn’t get a chance to answer.

  “There you are!” Gail approached their table, eyeing Veronica. The couple from the PartyTime photograph walked directly behind her.

  Trent studied the woman’s darkish blond hair and pretty face, Gary’s football star build. In high school, he’d have said they were a shoo-in for prom king and queen.

  Gail stepped aside and made room for the others. “It only took Carin twenty years, but she’s finally returned to us.”

  “Okay, okay. So I disappeared for a while.” Carin opened her arms to Veronica. “Ronnie, it’s so great to see you.”

  Veronica stood. Her smile didn’t smudge as she hugged the slender woman. Gary watched, his thoughts unreadable. “You, too, Carin.”

  Trent rose, placed a hand on Veronica’s back, his gaze piercing Gary. Nothing about this man’s appearance seemed threatening. In fact, the opposite was true; he was a little too close to perfect. The way a Venus flytrap is able to lure unsuspecting bugs into its petals. The kind of creep who could commit a rape and still appear innocent to the outside world.

  “Gary.” Carin encouraged him to her side. “This is another one of my old friends, Ronnie Sussingham. If you can believe it, Ronnie, this guy was right under my nose during grad school.”

  Veronica’s smile faded. Trent inched closer.

  Gary’s perfectly squared teeth flashed a phony beam and not a muscle of recognition flinched on his face. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

  “Yes. You too.” Beneath Trent’s hand, Veronica’s back tightened. She stared for several seconds, then cleared her throat. “Oh, this is Trent Jamieson.”

  Gary extended a hand and Trent did the same, even though his body wanted to lunge at this guy.

  “So strange that we were all at the same school for two years and never met.” Gail glanced around the group. “Isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Gary focused on Gail. “There were about ten thousand students at the time. More if you count the graduate enrollment. It’s easy to get lost in your own crowd.”

  Carin motioned to the half-eaten plates of food on the table. “We’ll let you guys finish eating and catch up later.”

  Gary glanced between Trent and Veronica, flashed a quick smile. “Real nice to meet you both.”

  “You too,” Veronica mumbled. The second they stepped aw
ay, she dropped into the wooden folding chair and closed her eyes.

  Trent sat. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, then took her half-full wine glass and drank it to the last drop. “Maybe I just need a little food. I had a light lunch.”

  Another couple came to the table and asked if they could join them, a neighborhood friend of Gail’s who Veronica had met here a few years back. A conversation ensued, but Trent pushed aside his plate.

  He rested his elbow on the table and stroked his chin while he watched Gary at the buffet, filling a plate and talking to the person behind him. A moment later, Gary’s gaze drifted to Veronica. The relaxed facade of seconds earlier slipped, and Trent swore a strange expression flickered over the man’s face.

  Chapter 25

  In the three hours since Gary and Carin had arrived, Veronica found herself stuck talking to them on several occasions. Each time, Gary barely looked at Veronica, let alone showed any signs of recognition.

  Fury wormed through her veins, his disregard after what he’d done inexcusable. She tried to reason, figure out why he’d act this way and then realized the sad truth; what choice did he really have? A more disgusting thought occurred to her; maybe he really hadn’t remembered her. Perhaps the repulsive way he’d forced himself on her was so commonplace in his world, the victims in his wake were used and forgotten.

  Gary’s loud laugh rumbled from a few tables away. She glanced over, just in time to catch him sling his arm over the chair of the man next to him and lean close, speaking too loudly near the poor guy’s ear about politics. Gary finished off another glass of scotch and stood, heading toward the bar…again. Carin stayed at the table, watched him walk away. Her annoyed expression, however, spoke volumes.

  Trent’s arm rested on Veronica’s chair back, his hand rubbing her shoulder. “Want to dance, beautiful?”