Chapter 17
FRANKIE
There’s a valley that overlooks the Abbott vines that has never lost its magic for me.
It’s Monday and the winery is closed, giving Charlie and me the perfect opportunity for a late morning horseback ride.
So we saddled up Ytse and one of the mellow winery horses and now we’re on a slow, ambling ride up to the little valley inset above the property.
The stark blue skies and winter sunshine are a much-needed peaceful break from the craziness of our lives.
I try to pretend I don’t notice Donovan following us from a distance in one of the vineyard’s UTVs, which is basically a tricked-out golf cart that can tackle rugged terrain.
My father had considered planting vines here years ago, since there are a couple of acres of decent soil, but the surrounding hills keeps the area from getting enough sun to produce well.
Which was a blessing in disguise, because it meant this land could remain a wild meadow, dotted with a few scrubby oak trees.
It’s one of my favorite places on the entire property—and one I’ve come to many times when I needed to be alone.
“How did baby like their first horseback ride?” Charlie asks as she dismounts.
I smile. “Aww, I hadn’t thought of that. Baby’s first ride. I’d say baby is a natural.”
We take in the view and stretch our legs for a bit, giving the horses a chance to rest.
The normally vibrant green of the land is now muted shades of winter brown, but the view is still stunning. Even Charlie comments on how still beautiful it is here.
Settling ourselves down on a smooth boulder under some trees, we dig into the small bag of snacks Alain packed for us before we left—pistachios, red grapes, pretzel snaps, and cheese cubes. We brought water bottles too, but mine is filled with tea.
“I’m still pissed Dante announced your pregnancy at dinner like that,” Charlie remarks. “He obviously doesn’t know the rules.”
“Pff. Not to mention,” I add, “why tell a room full of strangers? It’s private. I would have at least liked to be able to discuss it with him beforehand. I would’ve tried to talk him out of it.”
Charlie flashes a wry smile. “Which is probably exactly why he didn’t tell you his plan.”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s too early to be making announcements. If anything were to happen…”
“Don’t even say it,” Charlie interrupts. “But yeah…that’s why people usually wait until after the first trimester is over. If not longer.”
She looks out at the view, going quiet. I don’t need to ask what she’s thinking about.
She and Clayton have been trying to have a baby for years.
My sister has miscarried twice, both times in the second trimester, and knows all too well what it feels like to share the happy news, only to be heartbroken later.
I’ve actually been meaning to talk to her alone about my own news, I just haven’t had the chance until now.
“Charlie, are you…feeling okay about me having a baby? I mean…before you do?”
I bite my lip, half dreading her answer.
It’s not like we ever discussed there being some kind of pecking order with regard to Abbott babies, but I can’t dispel the nagging guilt I feel every time I catch Charlie gazing wistfully at my belly.
My big sister always talked about having kids—way before I ever, ever considered the possibility for myself.
She doesn’t answer for a moment, and I’m starting to feel anxious for bringing it up at all when she finally says, “It hurt…at first. I was happy for you, but it hurt. I had a few bad days, honestly, just feeling like…it wasn’t fair.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“Don’t be.” Charlie turns a little to look at me. Her eyes are red, but she forces a smile. “I realized pretty quick that I can’t be upset about something so good. And I’m really, really excited for you. That’s the truth. I can’t wait.”
“You’re going to be the best aunt,” I tell her. “Livvie too. This is one lucky little bean.”
“You’re damn right,” Charlie agrees, swiping at her eyes.
Gently, I ask, “Have you and Clayton talked any more about…those fertility treatments? I know the success rates are going up all the time.”
She’d mentioned it to me at one point last year—and had been resolute about finding the best specialists and narrowing down the most effective treatments—but then she’d stopped talking about it. I hadn’t wanted to press, but now my curiosity is getting the better of me.
My sister smiles sadly. “Speaking of mamas, we should Facetime Livvie and make sure she’s not going crazy being cooped up with Miriam.”
“Good idea,” I say. I don’t mention the change of subject as I pull out my phone and dial our little sister. “You think you’ll keep calling her ‘Miriam’ forever?”
Charlie shrugs. “After all this time, ‘Mom’ feels weird to me. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Hi!’ Livvie waves excitedly when she picks up the call and holds up a large bubble glass with a fancy stem. “Look, we’re having margaritas!”
“Virgin margaritas.” Mom’s head pops into the corner of the screen. “I can’t let her have too much fun, can I?”
They’re sitting outside on a patio. The Louisiana sun is bright and appears to already have cast highlights in Livvie’s hair.
“We’re having a blast,” Livvie says. “I wish you two were here!” She takes a long drink from a bright pink straw. “Last night, we had alligator.”
Charlie and I look at each other. “That sounds like an adventure,” Charlie says.
“It tastes like chicken!” Livvie spouts.
Mom adds, “I told her it was chicken so she’d try it.”
“She did. She told me it was chicken.” Livvie laughs. “It’s a little chewier though.”
“Ew,” Charlie and I say in unison.
Mom and Livvie clink their glasses together—I’m floored that they’re getting along so famously, but I love it. We chat for a few more minutes and I let Livvie say hello to the horses and coo at them before we hang up.
On the ride back, Charlie gives me all the details about the New Year’s bash she’s organizing for the winery. It’s going to be a challenge to top Livvie’s headless horsewoman ride at Halloween, but I know we’ll come up with something.
At the stables, brushing down our horses after the ride, Charlie suddenly says, “You know what we should do? Go on a babymoon! Some time away, just the two of us. I’ve always wanted to paint a sunset in Montana—maybe we can spend a weekend at one of the hot springs hotels that has a spa. It’ll be a nice little pampering.”
“Sounds like heaven. I’m in.”
I don’t remind her that we’re both under watch 24/7 and it’s highly unlikely that our spouses will let us go anywhere. But then again, maybe this will all get settled soon and Charlie and I can have our mini vacay after all.
We part ways after handing the horses over to the stable hand and I head into the house to take a shower before lunch.
My inner thighs are sore from riding and my shoulders feel tense, although these minor aches are nothing like the one that’s been plaguing my lower back for the past few days.
Remarkably, the ride seemed to have eased that.
I’m just about to go upstairs when Dante comes down the hallway toward me, presumably on his way out, but he pulls up short when he sees me.
“You went horseback riding?” he asks incredulously, gesturing at my clothes.
I look down at myself, then at him. “Yes?”
“What the hell were you thinking? It’s dangerous.” His tone sharpens, as if he’s two seconds away from giving me a serious ass chewing.
“Seriously? Women have been riding horses while pregnant for centuries. Eons, probably. And I’m still in my first trimester, Dante. It’s fine.”
I grab the banister, but he steps closer.
“No. It’s not fine. No more riding, you hear me?”
Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “Ytse is unflappable, and I’m more than experienced. We walked the entire time. You’re overreacting.”
He’s shaking his head, refusing to listen to reason. “If you don’t promise to stop riding, I’ll sell every horse on the property by tomorrow.”
Oh, that’s it. “Are you done being a damn dictator yet?”
“I am not being a—”
Pulling off my riding gloves, I smack him in the chest with them. “Fine. How about we get a medical professional’s opinion at my appointment this afternoon?”
“Yes! He’s going to say it’s a bad idea.”
“She’s going to say that moderate exercise is fine, even into the third trimest—”
“NOT on the back of a wild animal!” Dante spreads his hands as if I’m an idiot.
“DONOVAN!” I yell, startling Dante with my volume.
My driver appears, remarkably fast from wherever he’d been posting. He’s never far away anymore.
“Get the car ready, please,” I tell him. “I need a hamburger. And please, do stuff as many burly men into the car as you think I need to go to In-N-Out without getting murdered.”
Forgetting about the shower and change of clothes, I follow Donovan out the front door, my riding boots clipping an echoing quickstep of rage across the marble floor.
Leaning back into the foyer, I call out, “See you at the doctor’s at two, my dearest love,” with as much sarcasm as I can muster.
Then I slam the front door behind me.