CHAPTER FIVE #3
I was on him like a squirrel on a nut, grabbing his shoulder and hauling him away. “Don’t touch that.”
“Uh …” His expression was more of surprise than concern. “Is it poisonous or something?”
“Very. It’s wolfsbane. You need to handle it with gloves.”
“Then why the hell do you have it on the property, where you have children?” The concern in his eyes made me take a step back, but I made sure to put myself between him and the plant.
“The kids know not to touch it. It’s hidden back here because it likes shady, wet spaces, and it has the wire cloth over it.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why you have a poisonous plant on your property. Is it invasive?”
“No. But we just do. Leave it at that, please.”
His brows narrowed. “The kids all know not to touch it?”
“Of course they do. And tourists aren’t allowed back here.
The staff all know not to touch it too. It’s usually hidden better than this, but the rocks we had concealing it must have been moved or fallen.
” I quickly searched the area for more fist-sized rocks and began placing them on the ledge to better conceal the wolfsbane.
He didn’t help. He just stood there and watched me.
Eventually, I’d stacked enough rocks that to anybody that came back here, unless they really tried to look for it, wouldn’t see it.
“So, tasting room?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Sure …”
I led him back through the barn, neither of us saying a word, but I could feel his curiosity.
Why the hell did four single moms have a poisonous plant like wolfsbane growing on our property?
Maybe he didn’t know what kind of effects wolfsbane had on a person who consumed it, but I would bet my freedom and this vineyard that he was going to go home and Google it.
Shit.
My reaction had definitely been over the top.
And I probably shouldn’t have told him what it was.
I just freaked out. I’d already smacked him in the face today; the last thing I wanted was for him to touch a plant on my property and have a heart attack.
Though just touching it with a pinky finger probably wouldn’t cause cardiac arrest. He would need to ingest a fair amount of the stuff.
I opened the door to the tasting room and let him go inside first.
“This place is really cool,” he murmured, glancing around the low-ceiling space with the exposed beams, big windows on three sides of the building, and shiny brass fixtures.
“I know you’re driving, but would you like a small glass of something?”
“What’s your favorite?” he asked, taking a seat at the bar.
I tapped my chin. “I do love our rosé. And I have a half-opened bottle in the fridge.”
“Then hit me with that.”
Reaching under the counter, I brought out two rosé glasses, then grabbed the bottle from the fridge.
I poured us each about three ounces.
He held it up to the light. “It’s a very pretty color.”
“Tastes even better than it looks.”
We clinked glasses, then, holding eye contact in a way that reawakened those butterflies, we sipped in tandem.
“That is really good.” He took another sip.
I nodded and drummed my short, unfancy fingernails on the wooden bar.
“You gonna tell me why you and your cousins are growing a very poisonous plant on the property? Because you have to assume I’m going to go home and Google the side effects of the thing, right?”
Heat filled my cheeks.
“Does it also have medicinal properties? Do you put it in the wine? Is it like crack? You’re secretly getting people addicted to your product so they keep coming back for more wine?”
I cocked my head to the side and studied his handsome face for a second. The thick brows, chiseled jaw, wrinkle-free forehead, dark-brown eyes. “People have guns in their houses for protection. What’s the difference here?” I finally said.
“Guns are weapons that are meant to protect you if there is an intruder. The Second Amendment was made in the event of a government uprising; the people of the country could revolt and take back their country. Poison involves premeditation. That’s the difference.”
“Haven’t you ever met someone, or had someone in your life who you just really …
didn’t want to exist anymore? Whose presence kept you up at night?
Tormented you to the depths of your very soul?
Who, just the thought of them no longer walking the earth, brought an overwhelming sense of peace to your heart that you became a little lightheaded?
” I swallowed. “We all have demons and monsters that haunt us. Some real, some not. Having the wolfsbane, just … it’s a form of comfort.
We don’t have guns on the property, but we do have that.
My cousins and I … our freedom is very precious to us, and we’d do anything to protect it. ”
I hadn’t planned on saying as much as I did, and the moment it came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it. Only four people knew my absolute truth of how I earned my freedom. Me, Gabrielle, Danica, and Raina. It was a secret we intended to take to our graves.
And yet, there was something about Lennox Paul that made me want to open up.
Made me want to just … come clean. Maybe it was that I could sense this guy had his own demons lurking in the shadows.
There had to be more to the story of his age—and it definitely wasn’t over thirty—and his daughter’s age.
His large Adam’s apple undulated on a heavy swallow, and he blinked. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “I have. I do. And I understand.”
Before I could stop myself, I reached forward and placed my hand overtop of his on the counter. His gaze dropped to it, but he didn’t pull away.
“There are a lot of bad people in this world,” I whispered.
“People who hurt others for no reason other than their own selfish gain. Their own sick, selfish enjoyment. I am not one of those people. My cousins are not those people. But we believe in holding those people accountable. We believe in justice.”
His head moved slowly in a nod. “So do I.”
I stood behind the bar, and he sat there on the stool, our eyes locked, hands touching for what was probably no more than twenty seconds, but it felt longer, it felt intense, before his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted the moment.
Clearing his throat, he leaned over to the side and reached in to grab it. A look of dread flashed through his eyes when he saw the name on the screen: Dawn. “I have to take this,” he said to me, draining his wineglass, then standing up from the stool and heading toward the door. “Sorry.”
I waved him off as he ducked outside, putting the phone to his ear. I finished the dregs left in my wineglass and stashed them in the sink behind me, reliving what we had just shared a moment ago.
I didn’t think he’d go all squirrelly and sick the authorities on me.
Besides, it’d been nine years. The autopsy was done.
Ephram was no more than dust, scattered in the local landfill.
Because yes, I absolutely had that fucker cremated, then I took his ashes and tossed them into the steaming pile of putrid trash.
Trash belonged with trash. There was no statute of limitations on murder, but without a body, or a curious person who wanted to reopen the case, I was safe. We were all safe.
He’d wandered far enough away that I figured it was okay to duck out of the tasting room and go check on Austin and Mabel near the tree.
She was sitting under it now, her spine against the trunk, her sketch pad closed, phone sitting on it.
Austin had stopped doing his Hacky Sack and sat across from her, staring at her phone. Quietly, I approached them.
“Hey, guys—”
“Shh,” Mabel said, glaring at me with one eye. “The app.” She pointed to her phone.
“What app?”
“Shh,” both kids now said.
“Mom, it’s a bird app. It takes all the different bird sounds and identifies the birds,” Austin whispered.
Mabel sighed, grabbed her phone, and hit the “off” button on the app. “Yes, but it doesn’t work if people are talking. It only picks up on bird calls. And human voices interrupt the bird calls.”
“Sorry,” Austin said sheepishly. “Can we turn it on again?”
“Will you be quiet?” she asked.
He nodded.
Then she glanced at me. “Will you be quiet?”
I sat down next to my son and did the ol‘ zip-lock-and-throw-away-the-key to my mouth. Mabel just rolled her eyes and turned the app back on.
I’d never really stopped and just listened to the birds before.
But it was like an orchestra in the trees.
An overwhelming cacophony of twitterpated egg layers.
Every now and then, I’d hear a crow or a gull, but the rest I couldn’t place.
The app was going crazy, listing them all, highlighting which one was most prominent.
I couldn’t see any birds, but they were in the trees, and having quite the party.
Gravel crunched under shoes behind us, and I craned my head around to find Lennox approaching, twin creases of frustration between his thick, dark brows. “Mabes, we should go.”
She placed her index finger over her mouth to shush him.
“Mabel Dawn Paul—”
Mabel paused the app with a weighted sigh. “Five more minutes. There are a lot of unique birds in these trees. A few I didn’t expect to find on the island.”
I met his gaze, and my lip twitched.
His sigh was even heavier than his daughter’s, but he nodded and sat down next to me, crossing his legs. Our knees bumped, and he didn’t pull away.
Mabel pressed play again, and we all sat there in total silence, listening to the canopy symphony and watching the app go wild.
I glanced down at the app and saw that the current birdsong we heard belonged to a Swainson’s Thrush.
Then a White-crowned Sparrow joined in, making it a duet.
Soon, an American Robin entered the chat as well, and a crow kept trying to interrupt and say his two cents.