The Barrel House Series: Boxed Set: Bourbon Love Notes, Bourbon on the Rocks, Bourbon Nights, Bourbon Fireball

by Ryan, Shari J.

  The cereal aisle is overwhelming as usual because I don’t have a favorite type of cereal, so I switch it up to avoid breakfast boredom for when I take the time to eat breakfast.

  “Journey, I thought that was you,” I hear from behind.

  I swore she didn’t see me. She was talking to her daughter, and I’m sure plenty of women in the area have dark hair and black coats. “Tracey, hi,” I greet her. “It’s been a few months, huh?”

  “It has,” she says. “Emi, can you say hi?” I think her daughter is just about two now. She’s adorable with her whitish blond hair Tracey usually has up in pigtails that curl into perfect cylinders.

  Emi looks at her hand first as if it’s supposed to do something, then holds it up to me and waves. “Hi,” she offers.

  “That was nice of you to bring those DVDs to my brother. He was awake most of the afternoon yesterday, watching them.”

  “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that.”

  Tracey does what any typical person would do in her situation and subtly glances into my cart, probably wondering what a single woman shops for. “You’ve been visiting Adam pretty early on Fridays. My parents were wondering if you’ve been avoiding them,” she says, laughing cautiously as if what she’s saying might be hinting at a joke.

  It’s easier to avoid.

  “The mornings are just easier for me,” I tell her.

  Plus, I know they meet with a family therapist every Friday morning, so no one else is visiting at the same time.

  “Have you thought about what I said?” Tracey asks, lowering her voice.

  I nod my head and try to force a small smile. “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “Maybe this week.” Maybe this week, I’ll go to the doctor and address my issues. Maybe, next week.

  “You don’t look good, hon,” she says. Tracey has always been honest with me, but it’s because she thinks I’m not honest with myself. She’s also a psychologist, and it’s in her bones to help everyone around her heal.

  “Things are getting a little easier,” I tell her.

  “Losing a parent doesn’t get easier. You just adjust to the void. Plus, you know what a loss does to old wounds,” she prompts me to finish her sentence.

  “I know.”

  I’m at the point where I’m cracking my knuckles from discomfort. I feel the tension in my shoulders and the pulsating in my head. “You know, I have a friend I’m trying to set up. He’s a great guy. Would you be interested in me giving him your phone number?”

  We’ve gone from the discussion of therapy to matchmaking. Sometimes I feel like Tracey has a list on her agenda to fix me, and though she can never check off an item, she still tries to accomplish every task.

  “No, thank you. I’m not looking to date right now.” I grab a random box of cereal from the shelf and drop it into my cart.

  “You’ve been saying that for years. I get the feeling you’re still punishing yourself.” I am, but not to be a masochist. Nothing has felt right. “Adam wouldn’t want this for you. He doesn’t want you to live like this. I’m sure of it.” Tracey has said this to me a million times, and it could be true, but my life is the way it is for a reason. I’m just not sure of the reason yet.

  “The guy I kissed that night, the one Adam saw with me; he’s been around lately,” I tell her, feeling some relief for admitting the truth that has been killing me inside.

  Tracey offers a genuine smile. “Are there still sparks?”

  I shrug. “Maybe, but—”

  “Listen. The universe has a plan for all of us, different lessons we each need to learn in this lifetime. Your lesson is not the same as Adam’s, and you don’t have to act as though it is. You did nothing wrong that night, and if this man is back and you feel something for him, you aren’t doing anything wrong. You were so young then, Journey. You both were.”

  Her words of wisdom have always comforted me, but I don’t think most people think so level-headed as she does. I fear judgment and the thought of what Adam could truly be feeling or thinking. “I suppose,” I tell her, trying to end this personal discussion I wasn’t planning to have with her or anyone.

  “It’s not like you’re on some kind of wild bender, trekking across the country looking and making rash decisions,” she says, reminding me of the two years I was deemed to have lost my mind.

  It had been nearly a year since the accident. Throughout the year, I turned down my scholarship and pulled my admission from UNH. Instead of following my plans, I more or less lived in a chair next to Adam’s bed as he remained in a coma. No one knew if he would wake up, but his parents held onto hope, much longer than the specialists recommended.

  Mom and Dad were not happy with my decision but didn’t fight me on it either. They knew I wasn’t going to snap back from what happened. However, they also weren’t aware of the details that led to the accident. Melody was the only one who knew the truth, and she kept the secret without bribery. Our relationship grew a lot that year, making me realize how lucky I am to have a sister who had my back no matter how crappy life got. She sat with me by Adam’s bedside as often as she could, just to keep me company. Those were times I won’t forget.

  As time went on, Melody’s life evolved, and she was heading off to college, as she should. However, it meant I was losing my sister—the person keeping me sane on my worst days. She struggled with the idea of leaving, but I forced her to go. I couldn’t hold her back.

  About a month after Melody left for college, I was sitting by Adam’s bed, watching a movie about a woman taking a solo road-trip across the country. It was supposed to be a life-changing therapeutic experience. She was running away from different problems than the ones I had, but I felt her happiness in the scenes where she was taking in the world, connecting with nature, and experiencing new emotions while learning to be on her own. She returned a year later as a different person—one who had grown and started a new chapter in her life.

  My only debate was whether I should leave Adam’s side. What if he were to finally wake up? I wouldn’t be there. I understood the coma could be a permanent state, but there was still a chance he’d come out of it. The hope for Adam waking up was becoming less likely every day, but his parents were determined to hold onto the small chances, as was I. They promised to call me if anything changed and supported my need to seek the adventure that could somehow fix all the broken pieces in my life.

  Mom was not on board with my flighty idea of driving across the country in a crappy car, but Dad was thrilled. He wanted me to have adventures and to see the world. He had been so worried I would crawl into a cave and never come out after Adam’s accident. Somehow, Dad managed to persuade Mom to let me go—to let me fly. Dad closed us into my bedroom and sat down beside me, placing his arm around my shoulders. “There’s something you need to know, sweetie,” he said.

  I looked over at him with wonder. “What’s that?”

  “You need to take this adventure. You’re meant to do this.”

  “Why?”

  Dad smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, staring through my closet door as if he was jogging through his memories. “When your mother went into labor with you, we were on a weekend trip in the mountains. You weren’t due for another four weeks. But you made a decision that night, and you were sticking with it.” That sounded like me. “Your mother and I were snowed in on the mountain. We had to call for a rescue to help us. It took almost two hours, but when we arrived at the hospital, we were told there were no free beds and had to travel another hour to the nearest hospital that would have a bed. We had to take a helicopter because of the snowy conditions and the speed, in which, you were coming. Somehow, we made it to the hospital twenty minutes before you were born. It took us almost four hours to get your mother into a bed, but there you were—somehow perfect and even healthy, considering your early arrival.” Dad shook his head as if the thought of what they went through was still unbelievable. “I looked down at you, and I swear you wink
ed back at me. That’s when I knew we had to name you, Journey.” He twisted his body to face me and looked straight into my eyes. “It made perfect sense because you would always be our first real Journey in life.” Dad swept a strand of hair behind my ear and pressed his lips into a firm line as he inhaled sharply through his nose. “I’d rather hold onto you forever and never let you go, but it’s your turn to experience your purpose.”

  I felt inspired and motivated to make a change in my life, but I had no clue I would somehow miss that purpose throughout the trip.

  Mistake after mistake; it’s what I’ve been known for, and it’s what I fear the most now. “You’re not allowed to feel guilty anymore,” Tracey tells me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Free yourself from those thoughts and move forward.”

  I gently tug at Emi’s pigtail and wave at her, getting ready to leave the conversation I would have avoided like the plague if I thought she would be at the grocery store. “It was nice seeing you,” I tell Tracey.

  “If you ever want to talk,” she says. “You know how to find me.”

  I lean forward and hug her, silently thanking her for being a good person and a good sister to Adam.

  My grocery list disappeared from my head, telling me I should have written down what I needed. I was too flustered to remember even half of what would feed me for the week, so I grabbed the necessities and checked out quickly, needing the comfort of my enclosed space within my apartment.

  So much for my Monday being the opposite of what everyone else deems the dreaded day to be. It doesn’t take long to unload the few bags of groceries, which means I can tend to the five messages I missed from my phone after enduring the long sets of buzzes in my back pocket.

  The first message is from Melody:

  Melody:I might need your help in the shop for a couple of hours today if you can spare the time. Let me know.

  The next four messages are from Brody:

  Brody: Would you be interested in having dinner with Hannah and me tonight? She's been bugging me to go to this themed restaurant near Burlington.

  * * *

  Brody: Pleaseeeeeee. I think Hannah might try to sell me on the black market if I go alone.

  * * *

  Brody: I’m almost serious.

  * * *

  Brody: You can’t seriously still be sleeping. How lazy are you?

  I don’t know how Brody is going to make it until Hannah turns eighteen with the direction their relationship is heading. That girl has every ounce of control over him, which is surprising given Brody’s natural ability to take life by the horns. He’s obviously procreated a smaller version of himself, which is mildly amusing.

  Melody only asks for help if she has to go to an appointment or a conflict at the same time Brett has to be out of the distillery, so I try to help out when she asks. It’s the least I can do after giving up my share of the business.

  * * *

  Me: What time do you need me?

  * * *

  Melody: Eleven to one. Would that work?

  * * *

  Me: Sure, I’ll be there just before eleven.

  * * *

  Melody: You’re a lifesaver. Love you!

  * * *

  Now, to handle Brody. Why would he be driving out toward Burlington on a school night? Maybe Hannah threatened him. How could anyone be afraid of a sweet ten-year-old girl?

  * * *

  Me: Normally, I don’t go out on school nights.

  * * *

  Brody: There’s no school tomorrow. It’s a professional day. So …

  * * *

  Me: What’s the theme of the restaurant?

  * * *

  Brody: Frozen.

  * * *

  Me: ?

  * * *

  Brody: Pick you up at five.

  * * *

  I haven’t seen Brody since Friday morning. He had to take Hannah to see her mother this weekend and ended up working in between the long drives. We’ve exchanged texts, but there hasn’t been a mention of our little party under the sheets, which has me wondering if he’s regretting moving at a stupid speed with someone who has more baggage than a plane could carry. With Hannah being around, the dynamic will be different, and I’m curious to see how a night with the two of them would be. Plus, I didn’t get enough meals for the workweek, so it’s one less thing to worry about.

  * * *

  Me: Okay.

  * * *

  Brody: Really?

  * * *

  I’ll leave him hanging on that note. Of course, I have the day ahead to think about dinner, and I’m more than likely to come up with a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t go.

  13

  I’ve got to hand it to Melody and Brett; they’re keeping The Barrel House in good running condition. Considering Melody didn’t know corn was the main ingredient in bourbon a few months ago, she’s definitely learned a lot in a short amount of time, and of course, having Brett Pearson as the teacher has certainly helped with her attention span.

  It’s almost three, and I’ve finished labeling a few crates of bottles and packed up the four shipments due to go out tomorrow. I’ve also dusted and polished some of the displays.

  Melody returns to the shop only a few minutes past three but walks through the shop as if she never left. “Thank you for coming in. I appreciate it,” she says.

  “How was your appointment?” She skirted around the topic when she left, leaving me curious as to what kind of appointment she had.

  “It was fine.” Melody smiles and walks past me.

  “What kind of appointment was it?” I press.

  “Dentist,” she says quickly.

  “For two hours? Dr. Helms is two blocks away. Did you have to get a filling or something?”

  Melody looks like she’s in a spotlight surrounded by a hundred strangers. It’s the look she gets when lying. “Oh, my God. Why are you so nosy?”

  Nosy would be me asking her what time the appointment was and which assistant was helping Dr. Helms today, but I asked if she had to get a filling.

  “You weren’t at the dentist,” I tell her, smirking for good measure.

  Melody finds the duster and begins to sweep over the areas I just cleaned. “It was just an annual. We don’t need to discuss it, Journey.”

  “I wasn’t asking to discuss it,” I tell her.

  Melody drops the duster down by her side and turns to look at me. “Have you been on the pill before?”

  I glance around, feeling like she’s asking me a trick question. “Yes,” I say, unsurely.

  “What is the percentage of guarantee that it works?”

  “Are you pregnant?” I gasp.

  “No,” she groans with a sigh. “Well—no. I got the morning-after pill.”

  “Okay, I’m confused,” I tell her. “Are you on birth control, or are you trying to go on it, or are you talking about something completely different?”

  “I’m on the pill, Journey.”

  I nod, telling her I understand so far, but still not sure where she’s going with this. “Okay, so why do you need the morning-after pill?”

  Melody runs her hands down the side of her face. “I missed a pill at some point last week, had unprotected ... you know, then noticed the pill I missed.”

  “Oh,” I say, holding my lips in the o-shape. “Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

  Melody shakes her head. “Part of me would rather be sorry, but I can’t do that to Brett.”

  “No, you can’t do that to Brett.”

  “I want a baby so badly, Journey.”

  I know what Melody wants. She stayed in a crappy relationship for years, holding out for what she wanted until she realized she wouldn’t be getting it from that guy. She’s only been with Brett for a few months, though. I don’t see things ending anytime soon between them, but she needs to go through the motions, especially with the way she looks at life—one foot before the other kind of girl, unlike me.

 
“You’ll have one. Don’t worry, okay?” I tell her.

  “What about you?” She always asks me these damn questions when she knows the answer never changes.

  “I’m dying alone, Mel.”

  “No, you’re not,” she argues.

  “I know for a fact that you’re going out with Brody tonight.” She bounces on her toes and smiles mischievously.

  “This is why two sisters and two brothers—”

  “Okay, I know. You’ve said this four million times.” Melody gives me a one-armed hug, so she doesn’t touch me with the duster. “Make sure you dress warmly for tonight. I’m surprised you agreed to Frozen.”

  “It’s a restaurant,” I tell her.

  Melody squeezes me a little tighter. “I love it when I know more than you do. It happens so rarely, but these moments. Ugh. Amazing.”

  “What is Frozen?” I ask her.

  “It is a themed restaurant,” she says. “Oh, my phone is buzzing. I gotta take this. I’ll call you later.” Melody answers her fake call and walks toward the other end of the shop.

  Dress warmly. For God’s sake.

  I make my way home and up to my apartment, wasting no time before pulling up Google to find out what the hell Frozen is, besides a Disney movie.