by Nan O'Berry
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
A Beautiful Disaster
Nan O’Berry
Contents
From Marina Adair
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About Nan O’Berry
Additional Books by Nan O’Berry
Other Kindle World Stories
About Marina Adair
From Marina Adair
Dear Readers,
Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena
Vineyard series, and the Original Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.
I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.
Warmly,
Marina Adair
To my friends who held my hand when I panicked. To my cover artist who had the courage to crawl inside my mind and create the gorgeous cover. To my editor, who took time away from her family to review my work and catch my mistakes. To the readers, who picked up a book from a nobody and took time to read, you have touched my heart and I am forever grateful. A special thanks goes out to Jan Clemente for naming Molly. It was a perfect name.
Most of all, I wish to thank Marina Adair, who had the courage to allow me to join this wonderful group of authors and create a fun story to fill your holidays with love.
Thank you all.
Nan O’Berry
Post script….
The month of October has not been kind to Napa Valley. My heart goes out to the families who have lost loved ones and homes. I hope in this season of giving, we all find time to sponsor those charities that give 100% to those in harm’s way.
To the fire fighters and first responders who put their lives on the line each and every day regardless of the consequences, you are the true heroes. May the good Lord bless you and keep you all in the palm of his hand.
Chapter 1
Alyssa March stood at the backdoor of the small grey bungalow situated comfortably off the main drag of St. Helenas. When her grandparents purchased the property on Merlot Street, it seemed to be on the outskirts of town. However, over the years, the town had grown and moved to meet them.
“It must have been your house Nana. Everyone wanted to gravitate toward you,” Alyssa whispered to the breeze. Pushing the door open, she stepped onto the porch her grandfather added just so her Nana would have a place to sit in the warmth of the sun and admire her flowers. “Yes, you had such a green thumb. I’m sure God is using you to beautify the world with your talent, one meadow at a time.”
The breeze stirred and cupped her cheek just as her Nana would have done, if she were still here. Alyssa turned her face toward the heavens and closed her eyes letting the sun bathe her face. For a moment, the warmth took away all the pain and heartache of the past weeks, the death of her Nana to cancer, the funeral, the use of her hard earned savings to pay the last of the medical bills.
A cloud past over the sun and the air cooled. Alyssa opened her eyes and tugged her sweater a bit tighter around her form.
“What am I to do now?” she wondered aloud.
Shuffling her feet, she moved to the bright turquoise painted rocker and sat down.
“Paint it as blue as the ocean,” Nana had told her. Alyssa had done just that. Then her grandmother had sat down using it as her throne while she directed Alyssa in the fall landscaping that she would now never see.
“Don’t bury the bulbs too deep. Use your knuckles as a guide. Think like a painter, Alyssa dear. Color is everything.”
She was right. Across the back of the yard, her grandmother’s tall wooden fence provided the backdrop to a profusion of flowers. In the spring, there would be tulips and pansies to dance in the afternoon sun. As the weather warmed, roses in shades of pink and red would take their places. But of all the arrangements she enjoyed the most were the fall baskets of mums. They took one last journey together to the Farmer’s Market. There, Nana instructed her on purchasing several baskets. One or two seemed too damaged to use. Her Nana merely laughed and purchased them anyway.
Bringing them home, she placed them around the old fountain, some sitting upright andsome leaned over, so their holes wouldn’t show. Then per her instructions, Alyssa had planted the rust, yellow, and bronze colored mums to disguise the imperfections. The effect was stunning. They had even made a scarecrow from one of Nana’s old house dresses. A sunbonnet covered the head, but the smile was for Alyssa.
A breeze lifted the leaves on the old Oak tree and she watched a single golden one, float down, spinning, twirling until it reached the lawn below in its own slow measure of time.
Again, her Nana’s voice echoed. “Stop being so maudlin. Death is just another trip in time. Besides, your grandfather has waited long enough for someone to talk to.”
“Yes, he has,” she murmured. “But where will that leave me?”
Laying her head back, she closed her eyes and let go. Sleep would cure all things. Her dazzling dream was interrupted. Dazed and a bit confused, her nerves were more alert than the rest of her. Gazing around, she looked for the reason she had been awakened. In the distance, a dog barked. She sat up and pulled herself together. Shouts from a child echoed against the stillness. She rose.
Seconds later, a beautiful golden dog bounded into view. It turned its head and stared at her for an instant before rushing toward the scarecrow.
“No!” Alyssa moved to the edge of the deck. Her eyes widened in horror as the dog dropped the object and sniffed around looking for the perfect spot.“Don’t you dare!”
The dog ignored her as huge clumps of mums flew in all directions followed by dirt.
“Stop that!” She took to the steps and watched as the dog looked over to her, wagged its tail, and used his nose to shovel the dirt back into the hole.
“Bad dog! Bad dog!” She ran toward the animal who glanced up once again, its tongue hanging happily from his mouth as if it had done something wonderful.
“How could you dig up this flower garden! Just where are your owners?”
The dog barked.
Alyssa screeched to a halt waiting for it to lunge.
“Molly!” a child’s voice echoed over the backyard.
She drew her gaze around to see a child of no more than five rush forward.
“Don’t run toward it,” she commanded. “You don’t know if it’s friendly.”
The child stopped and stared at her as if she where some strange creature from another land. Instead of replying, he turned toward the dog. “Molly, you weren’t supposed to run away.” Moving past her, the child dropped to both knees and opened his arms.
The dog, she now knew as Molly, gave another loud bark of greeting then stepped forward so the child could throw his arms around his neck.
“Good old Molly.” The child sighed and picked up the rope still attached to the collar.
Her patience ebbing, Alyssa placed her hands on her hips and demanded, “Is this your dog?”
The dark headed boy turned and his brown eyes rounded.“Yes, ma’am. Molly’s my dog.” There was a slight hesitation. “Well, mine and my uncles. We can’t keep him at the apartment ‘cause he grew too big.”
Alyssa blinked.
Seeing his opportunity, the little boy continued, “I’m sure glad you found him. I was awful worried. We were playing with the Frisbee when he got bored and ran away.”
Alyssa squared her shoulders. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to get away with this by apologizing. “Your dog tore up my flower garden.”
The little boy climbed to his feet and looked over at the damage Molly had done. “Gosh, I’m sure sorry. Molly didn’t mean to do it.” He turned toward the dog. “Did you, Molly?”
Alyssa sent a frustrated glare to the open gate. “Where is this uncle of yours? You are too young to be out on such a busy street.”
“Uncle Jericho? Oh, he’s fixing his car. He told me not to go far, but he didn’t realize Molly ran off.”
“Yes, yes, I bet he didn’t.” Alyssa groused. “Let’s go find this uncle of yours.”
As she reached for the leash in the boy’s hand, the dog jerked free.
“Molly!” the little boy screeched as the dog began to make laps around the back yard.
“Where did he go?” Jericho Brown put his hands on his hips and gazed up and down the quiet suburban street.
“You’ve been told not to go exploring,” Jericho muttered to himself his brow furrowed and he strained his ears hoping to hear the sound of the dog’s bark. “Nothing.”
He tossed the oily rag he’d used to dry his hands onto the fender of his late model sedan and stepped toward the edge of his driveway. “Tate?” he called out
He waited. No shouts from his favorite and only nephew. Jericho raised his voice. “Tatum!”
The silence disturbed him. He stepped to the sidewalk, glanced both ways, and contemplated which direction to begin his search. A white Frisbee stood waiting at the edge of his property next to a decorative fir. Deciding it was a sign, Jericho blew out a breath and headed to the right.
“Tate. Tatum,” he continued to call. “Where are you?”
His eyes searched for any type of movement. The roar of a push mower drowned out his calls. Jericho stopped and waited for his neighbor to finish the pass on his lawn.
“Hey, Thomas!” Jericho raised his hand in greeting.
Thomas slowed his stride and released the handle, cutting the engine. “Hey, Jericho.” He pulled a red handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his brow. “What’s going on?”
“Looking for my nephew. By chance, did you see him go by here?”
His neighbor grinned. “Yep, he ran past here a few minutes ago. He was hard on Molly’s heels.”
Just as he had suspected. “Thanks.” With a wave, Jericho quickened his pace. Up ahead, the drive reached the intersection with a much bigger street. He couldn’t bear the thought of Tate and Molly rushing into oncoming traffic.
“Tate!”
“Molly!”
A bark resounded down the residential street named Merlot.
“Molly.” Jericho jogged in the direction of the familiar sound. Third house down, a turn of the century bungalow stood the weather of time. A gate, behind a parked gold SUV stood open. Molly’s barks grew louder. Worry replaced fear as he pushed open the gate. There he saw a woman holding Tate’s arm while she reached out for Molly, who danced just far enough away from her to keep her from grabbing the rope. Adding to the din, where Tate’s shouts for Molly to hold still.
“Molly. Sit.”
His sharp tone turned each head, canine and human. One look at his stern face and the dog slammed on the brakes and immediately placed its bottom on the ground.
The quick movements made the woman stumble nearly throwing her face first to the lawn. She recovered to stare as he moved forward.
“Uncle Jericho!” The child began to rush toward him.
Molly stood up.
“Sit. Molly. Now,” Jericho instructed sternly.
The child stopped and the dog grew still.
“Tatum, come here.”
The child looked back at the woman standing perfectly still watching everything and moved forward only to throw his arms around his uncle’s legs.
Jericho placed his hand upon his nephew’s back. “I’m here.” He knelt down so he could be at eye level, then gently grasped the boys upper arms. “How many times have I told you not to go running off?” He stared into Tatum’s earnest eyes.
“A lot.”
“Hmm…” He raised a brow and tussled the child’s hair. “So, why?”
“Why did I do it?”
“Yes.”
Tatum glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the dog. “Molly ran off. I mean we were playing with the Frisbee and Molly found that shoe. I know you told her not to take it. So when she ran off, I just had to follow her to get it back.”
Jericho processed the information and with a nod of his head, he slipped his hands down his nephew’s arms to bring his hands together into his grip. “I understand you didn’t want Molly hurt. However, you should have come to get me. Together, we could have found Molly without me having to worry about whether you were in trouble.”
His nephew nodded.
Now, that Tatum understood his transgression, he turned his attention to the dog and the woman watching them. Rising to his feet, Jericho steadied his voice. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry.”
Her chin came up and he detected the fire in her eyes. “You should be.”
Jericho blinked.
“Your dog…” She pointed to the destruction behind her.“…Tore up my flowerbed.”Her hand jerked to her chest on the word ‘my.’
Jericho was too intent on staring at the blue stormy eyes that stared back at him to really note the action. A heartbeat followed and he found his voice. “I apologize.”
The words seemed in adequate.
“As you should,” she snapped then drew the sweater around her and the silence seemed painful.
“Again, I apologize.” This time, he offered her a radiant smile.
To his surprise, she didn’t buy it. Instead, she drew herself up to her full height and glared back at him.
Hoping to diffuse the situation, he squeezed Tatum’s shoulder. “Go get Molly, will you?” He caught the child’s stare that arced from the young woman back to him.
Swallowing, Tatum followed his uncle’s orders.
Jericho took a relaxed pose, shifting his weight to his right leg and stared at the mutilated flowers. “I will pay for your flowers and your gardener’s time.”
To his surprise, her eyebrow arched. She crossed her arms over her chest and the glare from her eyes grew more intense. “My gardener,” she bristled.
Miscalculation. His brain roared. Jericho suddenly knew how Napoleon felt at Waterloo. “You don’t have a gardener?”
She brushed his question off. “Throwing money at this won’t get you off the hook. It took hours, precious hours to plan and develop this concept. My grandmother spent the last months of her life making sure this was a work of art.”
Jericho felt the ground fall from beneath his feet. “I—I’m terribly sorry, for the loss of your garden and your grandmother.”
“I want this fixed,” she hissed.
“Yes ma’am, what do you want me to do?”
“Do!” Her voice squeaked as it rose an octave. “I want you and your nephew to return tomorrow, ready to help me straighten this disaster out.”
“I’m supposed to drop everything and come tomorrow?” Stunned, Jericho stared at her.
Her
eyes narrowed. “I think that’s reasonable.”
His anger grew. How dare she challenge him? “I have classes to teach.”
“I have a life to get back to normal.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
“Fine.”
The snap in her voice made Molly bark.
Jericho took some satisfaction in the way her body jumped. “I will be here at five tomorrow. Tatum has school. I will make sure he’s back on Saturday to do any yard work for you. Miss….” In the exchange of tart words, they had yet to be introduced.
“Miss March.”
“March.”Humph, well that explains it. Her cold exterior matches the chill of her name.Jericho felt Tatum’s hand reach up to his. “Very well, Miss March, expect me tomorrow.”
“I shall.”
He took the leash from his nephew and they walked out of Miss March’s yard.
Chapter 2
Jericho shoved his notes into the folder on his desk. Usually, he enjoyed giving the stirring speech uttered by Patrick Henry in the St. John’s Church in Richmond, Virginia, but today, the enthusiasm waned. His students knew it. He could detect their glances as if he’d told them the ending to the perfect movie, ruining it for all. Picking up his notes, he angrily stuffed them into the old faded book bag and heaved it on to his shoulder.
“It’s all her fault,” he grumbled as he crossed to the doorway and cut the lights.
Shutting the door, he made sure it was locked before making his way outside. Oh, he knew that part of his problem was the dressing down he’d received from his sister when Tatum rushed into their condo with the news that Molly had torn up a flowerbed. According to his sister, his list of less than top priorities was being responsible.