None came.
After seven months, he went again to her house after hours, and once again, she seemed almost to be waiting for him. Chico Three, who was now full grown, pushed his head against Connor's leg, his tail wagging, and crooned in delight. It was a sharp contrast to Jessica's reaction.
She didn't open the door all the way. "Davey's having a bad night," she whispered.
Connor said nothing.
"I'm sorry." She started to say something else, stopped, then sighed. "I'm very sorry."
"Okay," he said. Then he handed her the large Tupperware bowl he was holding. "Chili," he said.
She took the container, and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "See you around," she said.
"Okay." He walked back to his truck, because there was nothing else to be done.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Four days after the proposal
IT HADN'T BEEN FAIR, Connor proposing like that. Since the other night, all Jessica had done was stew over it. For once, she'd resented the long weekend--Manningsport Day, when all the local businesses closed for some historic, unknown reason. Her job at Blue Heron Winery was the perfect antidote for personal problems, and she really didn't want the free time.
Marriage? Seriously?
Granted, Jess realized that most people would think the whole proposal was really romantic and all, but it wasn't fair. Connor knew the rules.
When they'd gotten together for the last time, she'd made it clear.
She liked Connor. Very, very much. But her life was not typical. She had Davey, and he would always be her first priority until the day she died, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Who else loved Davey the way she did? Who else could take care of him? He had fetal alcohol syndrome, and, the doctors had surmised, post-traumatic stress disorder, courtesy of that asshole Pete O'Rourke, who'd made sure a little boy had seen his beloved dog dragged away to be put down.
And to someone like Davey, time didn't heal all wounds. He still cried for Chico the Original. Still cried for their mother. Still asked if Dad would be home for dinner, though Keith Dunn had disappeared the day of their mother's funeral and hadn't sent a single note, or dollar, since.
Chico One... Yes, he should've been put down. But it could've been handled so much better. In Davey's mind, it was Connor who'd caused the dog's death. No amount of Jess explaining could undo what he thought was true, and her parents hadn't helped with mutterings of Those fucking O'Rourkes or Why was that kid bothering the dog in the first place, huh? And so, according to Davey's logic, Connor killed dogs. Her brother's limited IQ prevented him from viewing the story another way.
The result was that for the past twenty years, Davey had been terrified every time he'd seen Connor. That time when Connor had come over to watch the movie...that had been the worst, and Jess understood. Davey had been betrayed. There was his dog-killing enemy, in his own house, with his sister. It had taken months to gain his trust back.
Over the years, Jessica had read enough to get a doctorate in the subject of fetal alcohol syndrome. She'd talked to dozens of school counselors, therapists, psychologists, pediatricians, neurologists. She once talked her way into a conference on the subject--her looks came in handy once in a while--and let an expert buy her a drink and stare at her cleavage while she peppered him with questions.
In the end, they all said the same unhelpful things. But Jessica was the world's foremost expert on her brother. She understood things like executive function, processing deficiencies, impulse control. She understood that if she said something like "Don't hit the car with that stick," Davey might think it was perfectly okay to hit the car with a rake.
He could read a little bit, and unless you studied his face and knew what to look for, you'd never know he had any problems. People would hear him quoting endlessly from The Hobbit, but they wouldn't understand that to Davey, it was just a cool adventure story with swords and a dragon. Themes of betrayal, friendship, the corruption of wealth, loss of innocence...those higher concepts were invisible to her brother. And because he could quote movies and he spoke fluently, people often got frustrated with him for not understanding what seemed so obvious to them.
Like Connor. He just didn't want to accept that to Davey, he'd always be a dog killer. The day Chico had been dragged away by Animal Control had been the worst day of his life. Worse even than when their mother died.
Connor thought he could win her brother over. He was wrong.
Davey wasn't going to change. He wasn't able to change.
But even putting Davey aside--which she really couldn't, but just for the sake of argument--Jessica...well, she didn't believe Connor. He didn't know what he wanted. Like a lot of guys, he saw her as a challenge. Once, she'd been slutty; after that, she'd become essentially celibate.
Except for him.
She was careful to keep things with Connor controlled. They'd always had a casual relationship...well, no. That wasn't the right word. But a fluid relationship, because that's just how it had to be. She'd always told him he was free to find someone else. He had, in fact. During their in-between times, he'd dated a little bit, and why not? She'd had to break up with him three--four?--times for various reasons. She understood if he needed to move on. She would've been happy to see him with someone else.
She was almost glad when he'd had a girlfriend, that redhead from Bryer. Let him move on and leave her alone and stop bringing up all those dangerous feelings. After all the times she had to break things off, she'd have understood if he one day introduced her to a fiancee.
But he didn't. He kept coming back instead, and Jess had to wonder why. To make up for Chico One, all those years ago? To rescue her? She didn't want to be rescued, thank you very much. A lot of people saw her as poor Jessica, white trash from the trailer park with the drunk parents and slow brother; Jess who had worked as a waitress for half her life, and yes, for about two minutes as a stripper. She could see how people had always seen her, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman--Come here, honey, all you need is some money and a nice hot shower and some good clothes, and you'll be exactly what I want.
No, thanks. There would be no Cinderella story here. She could save her own damn self, and Davey, too.
And she had. It took her nine years, but she got her master's in marketing. She had a fantastic job with Blue Heron now, something she couldn't have called five years ago, working for the family that had once brought her hand-me-downs.
She had a decent place to live. Her brother was stable and doing well with his job, packing boxes at Keuka Candles. She was practically respectable now. The last hurdle would be owning her own house, and that was only a year, maybe fifteen months, away. She was planning to buy a place in the Village, a place that seemed as magical to her as Narnia, the sweet Victorians spreading out from the town's tiny green, views of Keuka Lake from every street. It would happen on her own terms, because Jessica had learned a hundred times that she was the only one she could count on.
Three years ago, after her mom had been gone awhile, and Davey had finally seemed to adjust, Connor and Jess had a week together, their shortest stint yet. Her appendix ruptured on the eighth day, and it was ugly. Full-blown peritonitis and everything, because that was the way things seemed to go for the Dunn family.
When the nurse had told her that Connor was there to see her, she said no. What if Davey came in? He was upset enough, terrified that she would die, and the fact that Connor was probably a little terrified, too...well, she just couldn't take it. They didn't have an ICU kind of relationship. It would make things seem more solidified than they were.
Her emergency drove home the fact that she had to find a conservator for Davey, and as soon as she was out of the hospital, she started talking to lawyers and trying to find someone who could be his guardian just in case. All those years, and it had never occurred to her that she could die and Davey would be alone.
Connor didn't even bother coming over after that one. He didn't have
to. Being turned away in the ICU... Sorry, your name is not on the list... She'd been pretty clear.
And still he was nice to her. Still she came home to a fridge full of food, a packed freezer and clean sheets on her bed and Davey's, too.
This last time she and Connor had started seeing each other, it was because of a sneak attack at his sister's wedding. For months before, she'd suspected he'd been dating someone, and she'd been so, so careful not to let it bother her. He deserved a great relationship. A full, normal relationship with a woman who didn't have conditions and rules and a stunted ability to trust. She hadn't gone back to him in all that time, because she hadn't wanted to leave him again.
Colleen and Lucas's wedding day last fall had been perfect--a sunny and beautiful day, a huge tent in a meadow, and good old Colleen, who'd always been nice to Jess (and had a bit of a reputation herself, though not quite as nasty as Jessica's) had been so happy.
And there was Connor, doing his shtick as single brother of the bride, dancing with everyone from Carol Robinson to Paulie Petrosinsky to his mother.
He hadn't brought a date.
And then he asked Jessica to dance, too, and she said yes, because it was the Chicken Dance and nothing romantic, and it had been fun.
She pretended her heart wasn't stuttering and that he was just an old friend from high school, the guy who made the best burgers in the state of New York, the charming brother of the bride who made everyone cry with his speech.
When they were done flapping wings and twisting and clucking, he'd smiled, thanked her and then said, "I miss you."
How was a woman supposed to handle that? Huh? For the rest of the wedding, it felt like bees were humming under her skin, and it was hard to remember how to breathe.
She ended up at his house that night. The second Davey was asleep, she asked Gerard if he could watch Davey overnight. The second he got there, she took off for Connor's. He opened the door, and she pretty much devoured him right there in the front hall. Not that he minded.
And afterward, with her dress lying in a puddle and her panties MIA, she spelled out exactly how it could and couldn't be. Again.
Three people knew about her on-again, off-again thing with Connor, three rather unlikely people. Gerard, her old buddy from the fire department. They'd slept together once in high school; Gerard had been on the football team, a big, strong guy, and a nice guy, too. Just one hookup, in his car at the edge of the soccer field, and he'd been her friend ever since. Looked out for Davey, too.
Gerard had always been her go-to guy for babysitting, physically big enough to handle her brother if he went into one of his rages, nice enough that Davey really liked him. The fire trucks didn't hurt. So he knew, because he had to know, since he was the one who kept Davey company on pizza nights. Ricky was the other person. He didn't mind doing a few hours of baby-monitor listening at night, either.
It worked. In the almost seven months since Colleen's wedding, it worked.
And then wham, Connor got down on one knee. Held up a ring, for the love of God.
Why did he have to do that? It ruined everything. And it hadn't been easy, sitting there, pretending to be casual and...and...calm, not when he was rocking her world, and most definitely not in the good way. More like he was taking a baseball bat to her world.
Once or twice a week had been safe.
Marriage... God, no! The thrill of their illicit relationship would wear off, and he'd think Why did I want to marry her again? and then, just assuming they somehow pulled off a miracle and Davey wasn't an issue...then Connor would leave her. And she'd be worse than Jessica Does. She'd be Jessica Was, as in Jessica was married to Connor O'Rourke, but obviously, he moved on.
There were times when what she felt for Connor was so...big...it was a terrifying. Times when they were in bed and his hands were on her. When he smiled, and she felt it in her bloodstream, in her lungs and stomach and bone marrow. When he said her name in that soft growl, when he just appeared at her door at one in the morning, when he looked at her on Wednesday nights at O'Rourke's, and there was that hard, almost painful pulse between them that no one else could see or feel.
It was almost too much. Anything else, anything more, was just not possible.
*
JESS LIKED TO get to Blue Heron about an hour before anyone else. Davey got on the bus to the candle factory where he worked every morning at 7:45, so she was generally at the vineyard just before eight.
And this morning, after the weekend she'd had, she could use the quiet time to get her head straight.
The beautiful April day did little to brighten Jessica's mood as she drove to work. The apple trees were starting to bloom, the air infused with a hint of grapes, and Keuka, called Crooked Lake because of its odd shape, winked blue in the distance. The Holland land stretched from the lake all the way up to the ridge, hundreds of acres of farm, field and forest, and right in the center, the compound--the barns where the grapes were turned into wine, and the big, graceful post-and-beam tasting room, which also housed the gift shop and the corporate offices.
A few hundred yards away was the Holland residence, where Honor, Jess's boss, lived. Mr. Holland, Honor's dad, and his wife lived over the garage, and way up on the ridge was Jack and Emmaline Holland's house, only visible if the sun hit the windows just right, almost camouflaged up there. Across the field and through the woods was another Blue Heron structure--the old stone barn that had been renovated two years ago and turned into an extraordinarily popular wedding venue.
Growing up in the shadow of the Hill, in the grubbiest trailer in the trailer park, Jess never lost the slight rush of nervousness when she went to work.
She unlocked the big oak doors and went in, through the gorgeous tasting room, named one of the prettiest tasting rooms in America by Wine Spectator, past the racks of Blue Heron wine, hundreds of gold-foil logos winking in the light. The gift shop sold everything wine-related you could imagine--T-shirts and corkscrews, glassware and cheeseboards, dishcloths printed with grape leaves, mugs and wine charms.
Just past the tasting room was the corridor to the office wing. Jess's desk was in front of Honor's office. She liked being almost a watchdog for her boss. Honor was kind of perfect--calm, smart, able to delegate, complimentary when someone did a good job, helpful and informative if someone was stuck.
If Jess ever got fired, it'd kill her. She had it made here. She'd been working here since last winter, her first job in marketing, her first nine-to-five job ever. Honor was the vice president of operations for the vineyard, which meant she did everything outside of farming the grapes and making the wine. She ran sales, distribution, special events, marketing, PR and supervised all their employees. As her assistant, Jess did whatever Honor said. Sometimes it was give a tour of the winemaking operation, sometimes it was organize an event, write a press release, handle an event at the Barn, which took up more and more of her time these days. Whatever Honor asked, Jess made damn sure she did it right, fast and well.
It was still thrilling, being able to work behind a desk. To write things and come up with ideas for the vineyard, sit in on meetings and make suggestions that her boss took nine times out of ten. A far cry from waiting tables, though she still did that a few nights a week at Hugo's.
All of the Hollands worked for the vineyard in one capacity or another--Honor's older sister, Prudence, was the farmer. Her brother, Jack Holland, was the head winemaker, along with Mr. Holland and old Mr. Holland. Ned Vanderbeek, Prudence's son, was now the fourth generation of the family to be working at the winery. He handled about a third of the vineyard's sales and was one of the few who actually used his office. The other Hollands were always off in the fields or barns.
Honor's sister Faith, who was married to Levi Cooper, didn't officially work for the vineyard, but she was the one who'd renovated the crumbling stone barn, and she was here quite often, checking the plantings up there and visiting her family.
The Hollands were a tight-knit clan,
always coming in and out, bickering amiably, having family dinners and weddings and baptisms, holiday meals and vineyard events. You never saw one without at least one other.
It was the type of family Jessica would've sold her left lung for. She only had Davey. No cousins, no grandparents, no aunts and uncles. Her mother had had a brother who died in high school, the start of Mom's drinking problems. Somewhere, maybe, her father was still alive. Otherwise, no one.
Well. She did have Davey. Last night, he'd brought her outside to hear a crow call. The bird had been sitting on a telephone wire, yacking away, and Davey thought it was the funniest thing ever, and they'd sat on the back steps, just listening to the crow, Davey giggling till tears ran down his face, until it got too dark for the bird.
People often thought--wrongly--that she was a saint for taking Davey in, for not putting him in a home. They didn't know about how much he gave her back. A smile from him, a drawing, his joy over a really good cookie...those things lifted her heart like nothing else.
*
JESS WAS WORKING on some press for Blue Heron's upcoming events when Honor walked in, her tiny dog poking its head from Honor's purse.
"Morning, Honor," she said. "And good morning, Spike." She petted the dog's tiny head. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"No, thanks, I'm good," Honor said, setting Spike on the floor. "How was your weekend?"
Kind of crappy, Jess thought. My boyfriend proposed. Don't you hate when that happens? "It was great. How about yours?"
"Very nice. Can you come in my office for a minute?"
Jessica did as she was told. Shit. Adrenaline needled through her knees. She was about to be fired. Her throat locked, and her face felt hot, but she took a seat in front of Honor's sleek, tidy desk, her mind racing. She had health insurance here, for both her and Davey. She had vacation time, not that she used any. The pay was really solid. Where else would hire her? Would--
"I'll get right to it," Honor said with a smile. "You've been promoted."
Jess's mouth fell open. "What? Really?"
"You deserve it. Congratulations. Hiring you was the best move my father ever made."
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