Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
R achel bent down to help Everly wiggle her arms into the sleeves of her tiny raincoat, the toddler squirming with the determination of someone twice her size. The yellow coat had been Hannah's gift, covered in little ducks that Everly loved to point at every time she put it on. Today, though, it might as well have been made of thorns for how much her daughter protested wearing it.
"No coat, Mama!" Everly declared, her words clear and confident as she pouted up at Rachel. Her blue eyes—so like Brian's that it sometimes caught Rachel off guard—sparkled with stubborn determination. "Don't like it!"
Rachel suppressed a laugh, holding the jacket steady as Everly tried to push her hands away. "I know you don't like it, but it's raining outside, and we don't want you getting wet and cold, do we?"
Rachel kept her voice gentle but firm, the way her own mother had spoken to her during similar battles years ago. She'd learned early in motherhood that patience was more than a virtue—it was a survival skill.
Everly crossed her arms with a dramatic huff, her defiance melting into reluctant acceptance. The gesture was so reminiscent of Hannah that Rachel had to bite back another smile. "Okay, Mama," she said with a long sigh that sounded far too grown-up for her almost three years.
Rachel leaned down and kissed the top of her daughter's soft blonde curls, which framed her face in unruly ringlets. The scent of baby shampoo and the lingering sweetness of the morning's maple syrup clung to her hair. "Thank you for cooperating, my little negotiator," she said with a smile, remembering how Jack had nicknamed Everly "The Senator" for her impressive ability to argue her way through bedtime.
Everly giggled and snatched her stuffed bunny from the table, holding it under her coat as Rachel grabbed her own raincoat and the umbrella from the hook by the door. The soft patter of rain against the windows gave the house a cozy, almost serene atmosphere, but Rachel knew Everly needed her daily dose of fresh air—or "big girl time," as Everly called it. These morning walks around the vineyard property had become their ritual, a way to start each day with wonder and exploration, no matter the weather. The vineyard was only a short drive from their house, but once there, even the rain couldn’t stop Everly’s excitement.
The worn wooden floor creaked beneath their feet as they moved toward the door, the sound as familiar as a lullaby. Rachel had come to love these old house sounds, so different from the sterile silence of her Boston apartment. Here, everything had character, history, stories embedded in every nook and cranny.
Outside, the cool drizzle kissed Rachel's cheeks. They got inside the car and drove to Stellar Seas Vineyard, hoping Jack would join them on their walk. Once they pulled into the driveway, Rachel sent Jack a text letting him know they were there.
The spring rain had transformed the vineyard into a watercolor painting, all soft edges and muted colors. They got out of the car and Rachel opened the umbrella and held it over Everly, shielding the little girl as they walked down the narrow stone path that led toward the garden. The stones, slick with rain, glittered like river rocks in the gray morning light.
"Mama, puddle!" Everly shouted, her voice bubbling with excitement as she pointed to a small puddle glimmering in the driveway. The water reflected the cloudy sky like a mirror, rippling with each raindrop. Before Rachel could stop her, Everly jumped in, splashing water onto her boots and laughing as if it were the most delightful thing in the world. The sound of her joy echoed across the quiet vineyard, pure and infectious.
"Everly!" Rachel said with mock exasperation, shaking her head. Water droplets flew from her daughter's boots, creating tiny constellations on the wet pavement. "You're supposed to stay dry, remember?"
Everly looked up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes, her curls sticking to her forehead. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes like morning dew. "Sowwy, Mama," she said, but the mischievous sparkle in her gaze gave her away. She clutched her bunny tighter, as if the stuffed animal might protect her from any real scolding.
Rachel sighed but couldn't hold back her smile. "You're impossible," she muttered fondly, lifting Everly out of the puddle. The weight of her daughter in her arms, solid and warm despite the cool morning air, grounded her in the present moment. These were the memories she wanted to hold on to—not the painful ones that sometimes crept in uninvited.
They continued walking toward the garden gate, Everly clutching her bunny close. The iron gate, with its intricate vine pattern, had been one of the first things Jack had restored when he’d taken over the ownership of the vineyard.
Rachel's thoughts began to drift to a time she rarely allowed herself to revisit. The memories rose like fog from the wet ground, impossible to ignore. She could still see the Boston kitchen where it had all come crashing down. The glossy countertops, the warm light streaming in through the windows, the scent of coffee lingering in the air. Everything had been perfect, modern, carefully curated—just like their life together had seemed. She had been so nervous that day, clutching the pregnancy test in her hand like a fragile promise. Her heart had pounded as she walked into the kitchen, where Brian stood scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the storm about to break.
"I have news," she had said, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and fear. She'd spent the morning rehearsing the words, imagining his reaction, hoping for joy but preparing for shock.
He had looked up, distracted by something on his screen. His expensive watch had caught the light as he'd shifted, a gift from his latest promotion. "What kind of news?"
Rachel had taken a deep breath, steadying herself against the counter's cool surface. "I'm pregnant."
The silence had stretched, heavy and suffocating, filled only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic below their high-rise apartment. Brian's expression had gone from blank to incredulous, his phone clattering onto the counter as he crossed his arms. His wedding ring had gleamed accusingly in the morning light.
"That's impossible," he had said, his tone clipped and cold. "I had a vasectomy." The words had fallen between them like stones, hard and immovable.
Rachel had felt her throat tighten, but she had forced herself to speak. Her hands had trembled as she'd placed the test on the counter between them. "I know. But it happened, Brian. I don't know how, but?—"
"You've got to be kidding me," he had interrupted, his voice rising. The vein in his temple—the one that always appeared when he was angry—had begun to pulse. "We agreed—no kids. We talked about this. It was settled."
She had tried to explain, to tell him that the pregnancy had been unexpected but that it felt like a miracle. That maybe this was the universe giving them something they hadn't known they wanted. She had believed that he would come around, that his initial shock would give way to acceptance, maybe even joy. But his anger had only grown, his voice echoing in their perfect kitchen, bouncing off the marble and stainless steel until it filled every corner of their carefully constructed life.
Adding insult to injury, Brian questioned the paternity and insisted on a test. It was the end of Rachel’s efforts to save the marriage. They fought and he stormed out of the apartment and never returned.
By the time Everly was born, Brian had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. The divorce papers had arrived by courier, his signature already in place, no room for discussion or negotiation. Rachel had filed her own response, packed up what little she could carry, and returned to the Cape, where her sisters had welcomed her with open arms. Their Aunt Kathleen had passed away and left her small cottage to Rachel.
"Mama, Bunny wet!"
Everly's voice pulled Rachel back to the present, the sound anchoring her like a lifeline. She crouched down to inspect the stuffed rabbit, its worn fur darkened with raindrops. The toy had been Everly's constant companion since her first birthday, a gift from Aunt Hannah that had quickly become indispensable.
"It's okay, sweetheart," she said gently, brushing away the raindrops with the sleeve of her raincoat. The familiar motion, the simple act of comforting her daughter, helped push away the shadows of the past. "Bunny's just a little wet. We'll dry him off when we get inside."
Everly nodded solemnly, clutching the rabbit to her chest as they continued their walk. Rachel watched her daughter, marveling at how much she had grown. The way she walked with determined steps, her little rain boots making soft squelching sounds in the wet grass. The thoughtful expression she wore as she examined every flower and leaf they passed. Everly was the center of her world, the reason she kept going even on the hardest days. Every milestone, every new word, every tiny victory was a reminder that sometimes the best things in life came from the most unexpected places.
Jack had made the transition easier for Rachel. His quiet strength, his patience, and his ability to make her laugh when she least expected it had been a gift she hadn't known she needed. The way he'd entered their lives—first as her business partner and friend, and finally as something more—had been as natural as the changing of seasons. He adored Everly, and the feeling was mutual—Everly thought Jack was the best thing in the world, running to him with open arms whenever he appeared, demanding "up, up!" until he swung her onto his shoulders.
Rachel smiled to herself, thinking about the quiet moments she shared with Jack—the walks on the beach the late-night conversations over glasses of wine, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. The gentle way he'd helped her sort through her doubts and fears, never pushing but always supporting. She had never believed in fairy tales, not after what she had been through. But with Jack, she was starting to believe in happy endings.
As they reached the edge of the vineyard, Rachel glanced toward the rows of grapevines that stretched out behind the main building. The morning mist clung to the trellises, creating an ethereal scene that reminded her of the watercolor paintings her mother used to create. The vineyard had been Jack's dream long before she had come into his life, and she admired his dedication to every detail. The vines were neat and orderly, a testament to Jack's meticulous care. She had spent countless hours helping him tend to them, learning the rhythm of the seasons, the importance of timing, the patience required to create something beautiful.
"Grapes, Mama?" Everly asked, pointing a tiny finger at the vines. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the same expression she wore whenever Jack explained his work to her in simple terms she could understand.
Rachel crouched down beside her daughter, smiling. “Yes, they’re waking up."
Jack appeared from behind the trellis, a bucket of tools in one hand and a wide-brimmed hat shading his face from the drizzle. His old flannel shirt was dotted with rain, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek that made him look boyish despite the gray at his temples. He waved at them, his smile as warm as the sun breaking through the clouds.
"Hey, you two," he called, setting the bucket down and walking toward them. His boots left deep impressions in the soft earth. "What brings my favorite ladies out here?"
"Puddles," Rachel said with a grin, gesturing toward Everly's rain-soaked boots. The morning light caught the water droplets, making them sparkle like tiny diamonds.
Jack chuckled, crouching down to Everly's level. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the way they always did when he smiled. "You've been splashing, huh?"
Everly nodded enthusiastically. "Splash, splash!" she said, stomping her boots for emphasis. A spray of water arced through the air, catching the light.
"You're going to turn into a fish if you're not careful," Jack teased, making Everly giggle. He reached out to tweak her nose gently, a gesture that always made her laugh. "Maybe we should build you a little pond instead of a sandbox?"
Rachel watched the interaction, her heart swelling with affection. Jack fit into their lives so seamlessly, it was hard to remember a time when he hadn't been there. He had never tried to replace Brian—had never needed to. Instead, he had created his own place in their family, building relationships with both her and Everly that were unique and precious.
As they walked back to the greenhouse, Jack reached for Rachel's hand, his fingers warm against hers despite the cool morning air. His palm was callused from working the vines, but his touch was gentle. "Something on your mind? " he asked softly. "Everything okay?"
Rachel nodded, squeezing his hand. The simple contact anchored her, reminding her that the past was just that—past. "Just thinking," she said, glancing at him. The love in his eyes made her breath catch, even now. "About how lucky we are."
Jack smiled, his gaze steady and sure. A drop of rain fell from the brim of his hat, landing on their joined hands.. He pulled her close to him and kissed her. “The luckiest people on earth,” he responded.
This was home—not the perfect Boston apartment or the carefully planned life she'd once thought she wanted, but this: rain-soaked mornings, muddy boots, endless puddles, and love that grew as naturally as the vines surrounding them.
The greenhouse loomed ahead, its glass panels foggy with condensation. Inside, the first seedlings of the season were pushing through the soil, reaching for the light. Like them, Rachel thought, they were all growing toward something beautiful, something worth waiting for. She squeezed Jack's hand again, watching as Everly ran ahead, her yellow raincoat a bright spot of color against the misty morning.
This was their story now—not perfect, not always easy, but real and growing and full of promise. Like the vines that surrounded them, they were putting down roots, strengthening with each season, creating something that would last.