Sweet From the Vine

by Jacquie Underdown

  Matilda’s smile was broad as she stood, prompting all three of them to stand too. ‘Sure. You have all my details in your resùme packs.’

  ‘Here, let me walk you out,’ Mitch said, gesturing towards the door.

  Matilda strode off a few paces ahead, and he followed close behind until she waited at the boardroom door for him to open it. When out at reception, she stood before him with a generous smile on her lips.

  ‘Thanks, Mitch,’ she said, her husky voice a little softer.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  She took a step closer and lifted both hands until they rested on his shoulders. She eased up onto her tiptoes, leant in to him, and her lips pressed against his cheek as his lips met her soft, powder-scented face. ‘It’s so good to see you again after all these years.’

  His breath paused for half a second as her warm touch moved within him. Hard to believe, but her sweet femininity ignited remembrances from long ago. How could she still, after all these years, be ingrained in his memories?

  Shifting back, he looked into her eyes. Was it the same for her? His gaze fell to her lips, broad and full and painted with a soft glossy pink. ‘Good to see you, Matilda. A surprise, sure, but a good surprise.’

  Her ear tilted towards her shoulder as she smiled. ‘I’ll hear from you soon.’

  He cleared his throat, nodded. ‘You will.’

  ‘See ya,’ she said with a small wave, then headed out the front door.

  He stood there, watching through the window as she strode down to her car. An incredible body and her outfit was doing nothing to hide it. Small fluttering tugs shifted in his stomach. Tingles of heat moved through his limbs.

  He stood upright, shook his head as soon as he realised what those sensations were: desire and arousal.

  No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this.

  Rachel’s face popped into his head and he wanted to groan.

  Desire dissipated and he was one of the vines out in the yard being pulled and yanked as tight wire wrapped around his limbs, tying him to a trellis.

  And what was this anxiety for exactly? He didn’t want the answer to find him, but it did, reminding him with abrasive wire around his heart that he had lusted after someone other than Rachel.

  A better man wouldn’t have betrayed his wife so soon.

  But the scent of Matilda, the lush warm press of her hands as he touched her shoulders, the tender sensation of her soft lips at his cheek, the closeness, the memories, the long length of time since he had felt a woman’s hands on him, cracked through his resistance and allowed something different to seep through.

  He closed his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose as he drew in a few deep breaths.

  When slightly recovered, he returned to the boardroom. His brothers were grinning as he sank down in to his seat.

  ‘Matilda is perfect. Exactly what we’ve been looking for,’ Sam said.

  ‘She’s amazing,’ Tom agreed, his hands moving in big excited gestures. ‘I could tell just from the few things she discussed that she has a good head for this job. Exactly what we need.’

  Mitch remained silent for a moment, afraid his voice would betray his unease.

  ‘You’ve got to agree?’ Sam asked and waited for Mitch to reply.

  Of course he agreed. For this business, for their future success, Matilda was perfect.

  For himself, judging by the emotions that stirred from a simple kiss to his cheek, it wasn’t the best idea. He was still so tangled up from Rachel’s death, he couldn’t deal with this hint of an attraction to Matilda on top of it.

  Give him anything else and he’d handle it—his daughter, the vineyard—but not this biological desire and aching for intimacy and connection. That was too big of a mind-fuck. He still had so much to work through and to move on from.

  But it was his responsibility to ensure that this vineyard remained a success. To deny the business of Matilda’s obvious expertise would be professional suicide.

  ‘Have a letter of offer drawn up and sent to her. If she agrees, she can start Monday.’

  Chapter 3

  Matilda hadn’t hesitated to bind herself to Alpine Ridge again by planting her property roots. A fortnight after arriving back, she had placed an offer on a house on the outskirts of town that had views of an expanse of lush countryside and near-off mountain tops.

  The sweet little house was built in the early 1920s, but it had been renovated with skill and elegance from the roof down to the footings. The property boasted more than enough room for a chicken hutch and a veggie patch if that was the direction she wanted to go in.

  During the thirty-day settlement, Matilda shopped for furniture, electrical goods, artwork, cutlery, and crockery, everything she would need to make her home comfortable.

  She had left the US with nothing but a bag of clothes and shoes—determined to make this re-start in her hometown as fresh as possible.

  The contract on the house settled yesterday, and her letter of offer for her new position at the vineyard turned up in her email on the same day. With Monday as her start date, that meant she had a measly two days to get unpacked and settled. So, before the sun had risen this morning, she was up, car packed with boxes of items she had stored at her parents’ house and was heading over to meet the delivery trucks by seven am.

  A deep orange tint glowed from behind the mountains, eating up the early morning shadows. As she drove, it brightened, burnishing the hills and paddocks in burnt russets and golden ochres.

  When she pulled into the long gravel driveway, stones chinking and clunking under her tyres, deep pinks and sunrise yellows crept across the sky like a bleeding canvas.

  Her heart was buoyant as it sat in her chest and in her eyes was a warmth of happiness. Matilda had never been afraid of change, moving or starting over, but she had been afraid to end her marriage.

  There were no guarantees that she would find someone else who she could be happy with, let alone him be a good father to future children. But to continue pretending that she was happy existing within a childless marriage was worse than the unknown future she faced.

  Leaving her marriage was like willingly committing a crime that would hurt many people, not just Oscar and herself. And for a long time, that’s how she felt, like a criminal with no empathy, hell bent on going after what she wanted, others’ emotions be damned.

  That mindset stayed with her for many months. And so it should, she had gone back on her marriage vows and hurt the man she swore to love forever all because of this one desire for children.

  She was no different from the heartless advertising sharks she had butted heads with during her career—selfishly achieving their objective like a single-minded bullet, disregarding the destruction.

  At least the sharks were able to convince themselves that what they were doing was right. Whereas Matilda could always see the wrongness in her decision to end her marriage.

  Sure, she had tried to convince Oscar to reconsider his stance on children, but he wouldn’t, and she was left with two choices: stay with Oscar and never have kids or leave and pursue a future where there was a possibility that she could.

  She’d rather a chance than none even if that meant ending her five-year marriage to an otherwise good man.

  Matilda parked the car on the grass out the front of the house, leaving the driveway and garage clear for the removalists. She unlocked the front door, her front door, and went inside breathing in the strong scent of fresh paint and new timber flooring.

  This house was the signpost of her movement in a new direction, and an electric thrill crackled through her. She giggled as she wandered around the house opening blinds and windows to allow fresh mountainous air to roll through.

  She skipped to the back door that led out onto a big timber deck. As she opened it wide, she gazed out at her backyard that didn’t end until distant hills butted against the dawning sky. Silence, bar for the melodic morning songs of rosellas and cockatoos and the odd identifiable laug
h of a kookaburra.

  She inhaled deeply. How she missed this air—always brisk and clean and renewing.

  Matilda unpacked what she could. When the removalists arrived with her deliveries, she directed them to where her homey necessities were to be positioned.

  Once they left, Mum and Dad dropped by to help. Dad handled all the boyish stuff like tuning in the television and, begrudgingly, assembling flat packs.

  Mum helped with the more feminine touches like packing away the kitchen items, helping hang the artworks Matilda picked up from local artists and positioning décor items like lamps and rugs.

  When done, it was dusk, and they collapsed onto the couch with a glass of wine each and a home-delivered pizza.

  ‘Thank you so much for all your help,’ Matilda said.

  ‘Our pleasure. We’re so glad to have you home,’ Mum said with a weary grin.

  Matilda had only seen her parents once a year since moving to the States seven years ago, though they talked endlessly on the phone every week.

  Mum was the same as she had always been—long russet hair, hazel eyes and dressed in her flowy dresses with bright bangles and jewellery, but time had dusted her hair with grey and deepened the lines of life that sat around her eyes and forehead.

  Matilda didn’t want to miss out on her family any longer; if she had stayed with Oscar, she would never have left the US.

  Matilda raised her drink in the air. ‘To new beginnings in old towns.’

  Her parents chimed their glasses with hers. ‘Here. Here.’

  They all had a mouthful of wine, which tasted especially good after a full day of tiresome work.

  ‘Courtesy of the Mathews family,’ Dad said. ‘Who are now officially your employer.’

  Matilda looked at her glass, the rich red liquid curving up towards the lip as she slanted it. ‘They do make a quality drop. It’s been a long while since I’ve tasted it.’

  ‘You’ll soon be making up for lost time, I’m sure, what with working there and all,’ Dad said before taking another long swallow. Age had crept up on him too and taken a little of his hair as well as shading it with a lot of white.

  Since signing the employment contract, Matilda had been consumed with a jittery anticipation. The position was unique, but that wasn’t the sole reason for her nerves.

  From the moment she looked into Mitch’s rich brown eyes, framed by a much more masculine face than he had ever possessed as a teenager, her mind flooded with all that they had shared, her heart throbbed with the recollection of their love, and it caught her completely off guard.

  Never ever had she thought that the connection she had once had with Mitch all those years ago would still be as present now as the day she said goodbye to him when only an eighteen-year-old girl.

  Adding kindling to her reignited flames was the fact that time had improved him like a good vintage. He was a little taller, stronger looking. His features—cheekbones and jaw—were much more defined. His limbs were thicker beneath his crisp blue shirt, which she had noticed when her palms pressed against the hard muscle of his shoulders.

  What had stayed the same was his colouring—deeply tanned skin, thick dark brown hair that was neatly trimmed and the most to-die-for roasted coffee-coloured eyes. She couldn’t look away once she gazed into them because reflected in every facet of those eyes was their history together.

  Ever the observant soul, she also didn’t miss the new frown lines or the pain that had crept into his features and dimmed the brightness of his irises. Witness to that, she wanted to pull him against her chest, wrap her arms around him and tell him how sorry she was and that everything was going to be okay.

  Yes, she had experienced the pain of ending a good relationship, but she couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for Mitch to have lost his wife.

  ‘How long ago was it that Mitch’s wife passed?’ Matilda asked.

  ‘Oh, gee, it would be coming up to two years. Yes, two years in April next year,’ Mum said.

  Matilda nodded. ‘She died during childbirth, right?’

  ‘Yes. She was a lovely young woman. It devastated that family, particularly Mitch, for a long time.’

  ‘It’s so sad.’

  ‘Yes, it was. Still is.’ Mum turned in her seat and focused all her power of human insight upon Matilda.

  Matilda squirmed. You’d think after thirty-three years she would be used to the fact that her mother was a counsellor and had the ability to see past her social constructs and deep inside to the real issue. ‘Are you worried about your past relationship affecting your professionalism?’

  God, she was good. Matilda had never been able to hide anything from her mum. ‘A little.’

  ‘What exactly is bothering you?’

  Matilda shrugged, but it was a gesture used only to delay her response. ‘When I met with him, I could still feel a little of what we used to have. Which is crazy because we were so young back then and it was hardly serious.’ Except it was serious. Completely. At least that’s how her heart felt. But like always, she had followed her head instead of her desires, thinking the right thing was to leave him for university, then a career.

  ‘That’s understandable. Young or not, your relationship was a big deal at the time. It’s completely normal that some of that emotion can be sparked. It’s no reason to undermine your professional abilities, though. Unless you’re interested in pursuing him romantically again—’

  She shook her head quickly. ‘Of course not. I’ve … moved on. He has too.’

  Mum nodded. Dad had a sip of wine.

  ‘In that case, I may have accidentally hinted that you were looking for a relationship to my co-worker, Jennifer. She said her son, Brad, who is just a little bit younger than you, thirty I think she said, is also looking for a relationship—’

  ‘Brad Myers?’

  Mum smiled. ‘That’s him.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ Matilda said, rubbing a hand down her face. ‘Mum, I do not need your help with dating.’

  ‘I know. I know. But, he’s a very attractive young man. He has a good job as a teacher at the local secondary school. I told Jennifer that I would suggest it to you.’

  Matilda sighed. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good. But don’t take long before giving me an answer. The sooner we have more grandbabies the better.’

  Matilda rolled her eyes. Telling Mum about her new desire for children was a big mistake. Now she felt like there was a timeline for making it happen. Truthfully, there was. She was thirty-four soon and as clichéd as it was, she wasn’t getting younger.

  ‘Oh, and maybe eat a few of the Cupid cupcakes from this cute little shop called Love and Cupcakes,’ Mum said.

  ‘I’ve already had some.’ She salivated just thinking about how delicious those cupcakes were. ‘But what has that got to do with me having children?’

  Mum had a sip of wine, then rested her glass back on the coffee table. ‘It’s a proven fact that they help people find their perfect match.’

  Matilda gave her mother a disbelieving look.

  ‘Everyone in town knows it. It’s the reason your brother got married. We never thought he was ever going to settle down. But a few weeks after eating one of those cupcakes, he met Gillian.’

  Dad nodded. ‘It’s true.’

  Her mind ticked but for different reasons than Mum might have liked. Why hadn’t Amy told her about this? It was marketing gold. She would have to do a feature on her website or some kind of promotional spin. ‘Mum, I really don’t think cupcakes are going to decide my romantic future.’

  ‘Might just be too late for such suppositions, my dear. You’ve eaten them. Your romantic fate is already in the hands of Cupid.’

  Matilda finished the last of her wine and stood to collect the bottle from the kitchen, so she could top up her glass. ‘Seriously, Mum, for someone with so much knowledge about the human condition and mind, your love and belief in all things woo-woo astound me.’

&n
bsp; Mum’s smile had a smug slant to it as if to say, ‘we’ll just see about that’. ‘While you’re up, I’ll have a little more wine too please, love.’

  Chapter 4

  Mitch sat in his car out the front of the admin building on Monday morning. The engine was off, but his hands still gripped the steering wheel. He stared out through the windscreen.

  A memory zoomed into focus, a moment in his childhood he hadn’t thought about in a long while.

  He was seven years old and at the local park with his brothers. Mum was chatting with a friend over near the duck pond and watched them from a distance. Another boy, who was older and bigger, joined them on the jungle gym.

  He and his brothers laughed and shouted as they slid, swung and climbed all over the timber equipment.

  After a while though, Mitch heard his brother crying from above him. It was Tom. He was standing at the top of the slide and the older boy, who was so much bigger than his youngest brother, was trying to shove him down it.

  Tom had his hands spread out wide, gripping the rails, holding on as hard as he could.

  Tom wasn’t even four yet. The slide was too steep for him. He had bumped his head really hard the first time he slid down it and had been afraid of it since. Besides, after the head-bumping incident, Mum said he wasn’t allowed to go on the slide until he was bigger.

  But here was this bully, trying to shove him down it. Tom screeched as the big boy wrestled with him.

  Mitch’s heart leapt to see the fear on Tom’s face. He didn’t think, just sprinted to the back of the jungle gym where there was a ladder. He climbed faster than he ever had before and jumped onto the top deck. Over to the right was the slide.

  Tom’s whimpering sounded.

  ‘Get down there, sook,’ the big boy taunted. ‘You little scaredy cat.’

  Mitch didn’t stop. His breaths were rushing in and out of his throat. The big boy turned his head to look at Mitch as he raced towards him, and snarled.

  Mitch was before him now. The boy was much taller than he remembered him being.