Chapter Two
Ezra
T he sweet vintage Malbec in my goblet lost its sweetness and turned as dry as a Sancerre wine at the mere sight of Levi. Standing alongside Jackson’s two groomsmen, we now waited for the two men to return from their private discussion. The two men beside me sipped from glass beer bottles, but I’d never cared for the cheap stuff. Wine was richer in both flavor and price than beer, and I liked expensive things.
Unfortunately, I was broke.
After a few moments, I ambled out of my kitchen with its dark elegant dark walnut cabinets and pristine white granite countertops into the living room. Peering through the window that overlooked the front yard, I spotted Jackson on the porch with his phone pressed against his ear. Levi was nowhere to be seen.
“I need a team at Skeleton Cliff for a body recovery.”
My hand trembled, causing the wine to slosh out of my glass. A body recovery? Who had Levi found in the hills?
I was still hovering near the couch when Jackson reentered the house.
Pretending not to have overheard his phone call, I tried to act nonchalant as I asked, “Is Levi coming to the wedding?”
Jackson pocketed his phone. “Yes.”
With a nod, he brushed past me and headed back into the kitchen. Too bad my almost-brother-in-law lacked personality. I relished the fact that he was a better catch than Levi Shaw. Lilly insisted he was quite interesting once you got to know him, but I hadn’t met that charming side of him yet.
I wasn’t the type of person to throw parties. This bachelor bash was my attempt to lure Jackson into confidence with me, brother-to-brother, but he spoke less in this situation than when issuing warnings to me for fighting in bars. In those moments, my fists flew faster than my good reason could stop them.
My temper was like a second voice inside my body, but I hadn’t always been this way. I hated losing control. Ever since my father went to prison for laundering money, and I quit my job at the Bruno Vineyard Winery in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee, something underneath my skin splintered apart, and I was left trying to keep a dark current inside of me at bay.
I threw back the last sip of wine and then returned to the kitchen. Jackson wasn’t speaking to me, which was the reason for this soiree. No need to stick around.
“Please, excuse me,” I said to the men. I grabbed two fresh wine glasses by their stems, along with the freshly opened bottle on the counter, and exited through the sliding glass door.
Humid Tennessee heat slapped me in the face like a wet washcloth as I stepped into the fenced-in backyard.
A garden stretched beyond the faded wooden fence. A vineyard would be more enticing, but I was stuck on this putrid farm. Ghost Mountain Farm was in danger of bankruptcy, and I was doing all I could to keep it profitable.
This piece of land in southern Tennessee held generations of memories within its soil. My father had worked hard for it, and I couldn’t let him waste away in prison for nothing. I envisioned a haven awaiting his return, a sanctuary for my mother’s solace, and a place where Lilly could cherish her past through rose-tinted glasses.
Someday, when I could save enough money, I’d leave the farm and buy land in the Tennessee hills where I’d build a small wedding venue next to a cultivated vineyard. Then, I could be the overseer of my world, rich in burgundy grapes and scarlet sunsets.
But until then, I must keep this farm afloat.
That task seemed to grow more challenging each week.
Pushing dark thoughts aside, I nudged the gate nestled within the pristine white picket fence with my hip as I made my way past the Shaw residence and toward my childhood home.
Giggles floated down from the upstairs window, where Lilly and her bridesmaids were immersed in wedding preparations. The orchard echoed with the cheerful chirping of birds, while tantalizing scents of roasting meat slathered in BBQ drifted on the gentle breeze.
Yes, there were pleasant things about this land. The aged tire swing that smelled of rubber, and the way mother’s kitchen reminded me of sticky icing on cinnamon rolls. The fields outside transformed from a dry brown hue to lush green every summer, a seasonal spectacle that never failed to captivate me.
Mother swung open the squeaky screen door before I could knock. “Is Jackson all right? He’s not getting cold feet, is he?”
“No, Mother.” I kissed her cheek. “He’s acting like his normal, unshakable self.”
She rose on her tiptoes to tame an errant strand of brown hair that had escaped my hairline. “You look so handsome.”
Mother appeared pristine in her creamy pink mother-of-the-bride dress. “You're looking beautiful yourself. Can I see Lilly?”
She shook her finger at me. “Not with that red wine. You’ll ruin her dress.”
“Please?” I gave her my most arresting smile.
With a shake of her head, she relented. My smile had worked from as young as I could remember. Mother stood at the bottom of the stairs and hollered, “Lillian, Ezra’s here. Can he come up?”
I refrained from mentioning that I could have screamed up the staircase myself, but this was Mother’s house. She’d always done the yelling for us. Hearing her reminded me of years past.
Moments later, a line of girls filed down the stairs. “She says you can come up,” the girl with wine-colored lips, and a perfectly symmetrical face said. I couldn’t remember her name. She was one of Lilly’s friends from nursing school. Maybe she’d married a famous country artist? Lilly’s life was almost grocery-store-magazine worthy too. Until Levi messed it up.
Typical Levi.
"Don't you dare let Lillian have that wine," Mother said.
"I won't let her ruin her dress, Mother." I gave her another peck on the cheek before I ascended the creaky stairs, a nuance that had been a part of the house since I was a teenager. I never made it far when trying to sneak out. A smile lifted on my lips at the memory.
Lilly met me at the landing, resplendent in a white gown and a flower crown.
“Wow,” I said. “You look . . . magnificent.”
“And you look debonair. Is that a vintage Malbec?”
“Should I have brought something else?”
“Mother won’t let me drink a drop of anything but water, and you know how much I love wine. Bring it inside. Quick, before she takes it away.”
She pulled me into the room that once sported a weathered blue marker sign declaring “No Boys Allowed,” an attempt to bar me, Levi, and his brother Colton. Lilly was the princess of the farm. The only girl born of the King and Shaw families.
Her room hardly resembled the teenage girl oasis it used to be. The pink floral bedspread had been replaced by a pristine white duvet embellished with delicate ruffles. A potted fern on the dresser replaced her old stereo. The walls were adorned with framed paintings capturing poignant moments of human connection: a mother embracing her toddler, a grandfather tenderly holding his wife’s hand, and two lovers locked in a graceful twirl.
The most noticeable change was the absence of scattered clothes on the floor. “Has Jackson turned you into a neat freak?”
“Not completely, but he has forced me to become better organized. It’s not bad, I suppose, but I’m used to knowing where everything thing is, even when it’s a mess.”
I gave the room a nod of approval. My home was immaculate. As was Momma’s. Being tidy was a personality trait Lilly hadn’t inherited. Thankfully Jackson had encouraged Lilly to adopt some of his military-style cleanliness. “I like it this way.”
“Of course you do. The only thing you leave lying around are wine glasses.”
She knew me too well. “And cork openers,” I said cheekily.
“Naturally.” She grinned. Looking around the room, she sighed. “I’ll miss this place.”
I carefully poured two glasses of wine, giving her time to mourn her past as she embraced her future.
She leaned forward to take a delicate sip from hers. “I can’t risk getting a drop on this dress.”
She looked like the Ghost Mountain Farm princess she was. Flowers graced her hair, and her makeup enhanced her natural features instead of hiding them. “Nor would I desire you to.”
Her eyed rolled back into her head as she closed her eyes. “Mmm, this is great. I’ll only have a little. I want to be sober for my wedding.”
“No worries, little sister. I didn’t come to intoxicate you.”
She peered at me over the rim of her glass, her wide mascara-coated eyes blinking curiously. “Why are you here? Are Jackson’s friends too dull?”
“They’re all right. I came to tell you that Levi’s arrived.”
She set down her glass and said, “He made it?”
“Why do you sound excited? He broke your heart. I don’t understand why you invited him to the wedding, let alone asked him to stand. It’s weird.”
“Levi and I are friends.”
Lillian’s lingering feelings for Levi were clear. I suspected Jackson knew as well, but she'd left Levi in spectacular fashion. She was marrying Jackson. It was clear which man she cared for more, even if she still held old feelings for Levi.
“He wants to be more than your friend. Trust me.” Good thing Levi didn’t know she still cared.
“It won’t matter after today.”
I considered telling her about the body Levi discovered, but I decided to spare her undue curiosity or stress. Jackson could share it with her later if he chose.
“I could kick him in the balls for disappearing and missing the rehearsal dinner. Where was he?”
Levi had been carousing in the hills, nursing his misery and probably drowning in drink. I shrugged as I again considered telling her about the body. But I couldn’t give her that kind of shock before her wedding. “I’m not sure. But that’s not the only reason I came.”
She sank onto the bed as though it were made of cotton clouds.
I leaned against the dresser. How could I voice this next part without sounding like a weak fool? “I wanted you to know that I’m honored you’re allowing me to walk you up the aisle.”
Her hands disappeared in the folds of fabric.
“It shouldn’t be me,” I choked out. Our father hung like a mist over our lives, present but untouchable. He should be the one escorting Lilly.
Her gaze met mine. “I know,” she said, her voice cracking. She tilted her face upward. “Stop making me cry. I’ll ruin my makeup.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know he’s proud of you, even if he can’t be here.”
She used a tissue to dab at the moisture under her lids. “He called me today.”
I tried not to sound shocked. “He did?”
“Yes. He told me to enjoy every second with every person.” She grinned. “He also requested that I tell you not to get into any brawls. He wishes you’d call him more.”
I didn’t call because my father asked too many questions about the farm. Questions I could never answer without lying to him. My father knew me too well. He knew when I was deceitful.
“Promise?” she said, taking a sip of wine.
I frowned. Did I miss something? “Promise what?”
“Not to lose your temper.”
I circled my wrist as I took a bow. “As you wish, Milady.” But we both knew it wasn’t that simple. When you shook a bottle of soda, it exploded. Pressure sucks the space from an object. The same happens to my blood when the right pressure is applied. “I’ll avoid Levi.”
“I wish you two could be friends again.”
Irritation rippled through me. “Why? He means nothing to us.”
“He’ll always mean something to me.”
Her confession turned up the pressure under my skin. “He shouldn’t.”
“You can’t erase history, Ez. It follows us everywhere. I accepted what happened between us, and I’m much happier now.”
I finished my glass of wine, unwilling to venture into talking about the past. “See you on the field?”
She let my abrupt end to the conversation stand. “I can’t wait.” Her smile returned.
I leaned in to kiss her cheek before leaving. “I love you, Lilly, and I’ll do whatever it takes to care for you and Mother while Father is away. I just wish I didn’t have to. It’s not fair.”
“I love you too, Ez. I’ve got Jackson now. You can let me go, okay? One less lady to take care of.”
I stood. “I’ll never stop looking out for you.”
“Nor will I for you.”
I walked to the door. “I’ll tell your entourage to reassemble.”
She laughed, rising to finish her wine. “Take the Malbec, or one of them is bound to spill it on me.”
The girls traipsed up the stairs as I descended. Mother was nowhere to be found. She must have escaped to her bedroom to continue getting ready.
Retracing my steps toward my home, a fluttering paper by the shed caught my attention. My backyard, enclosed by weathered white picket fencing like the neighboring farmhouses, housed a shed in the far corner for my gardening tools.
I stooped to retrieve the paper and scanned it. Then I crumpled it.
In the center of the yard stood a fire pit I’d created myself. The area encircling the pit shimmered with polished whites stone, while white pebbles snugly filled the gaps between the slabs. Though I rarely made a fire, flames had licked the black sky last night.
This paper should have been destroyed with the rest. Nobody could know the truth it held.
There weren’t any other papers in sight.
Good.
I brought it back to the fire pit and peeked inside. All ash.
I threw the crumpled bank statement inside and then found a lighter in the shed.
Orange flames devoured the evidence with a satisfying crackle. Smoke burned my nose as I collapsed into one of the Adirondack chairs around the pit.
The farm felt like a noose cutting into my windpipe. Although my father admitted to the money laundering that sent him to prison, I had a feeling he was covering for someone. Duncan Shaw.
Levi and I hated each other because I believed his father was responsible for my father going to prison, and he was convinced that I killed his father in retaliation. Neither of us could prove the other wrong.
Last year, when the crops were bad, I wondered if my father did launder the money. The farm was one harvest away from ruin.
But no. He couldn’t have.
If I didn’t act, then the land my father had worked so hard for would no longer belong to us.
Family history—vanished in an instant. Along with a place to live and my dream of being a vineyard owner.
Back when I left my favorable job at the Bruno Vineyard winery, life had felt bleak, but now it felt like a death sentence.
Was I willing to place my entire future on land that had the potential of becoming lost? I didn’t want to, but I must. It was my duty to provide in my father’s absence. Besides, I needed the money to carve out my place in the world.
Levi’s figure flickered in the kitchen window of the Shaw house. How dare he live as though there was no responsibility? How dare he break Lilly’s heart and smugly accuse me of murder? Especially when I was the one providing a home for both him and his mother.
Indignation simmered, but I promised Lilly that I wouldn’t brawl on her wedding. I’d promised.
Levi disappeared from view.
The wind rustled the leaves from branches above my head as I worked to calm the rage underneath my skin.
I couldn’t, but I also couldn’t let Lilly down.
Abandoning my seat, I marched toward the shed, drew back my arm, and forcefully slammed my fingers into the sturdy wood.
The aspect about my episodes of outburst that remained a mystery to most was the agony that drove them. It wasn’t about inflicting harm on others (though Levi sometimes deserved it); it was about releasing the unbearable discomfort festering inside me. One strike didn’t suffice.
The skin on my knuckles split upon impact with the wood once more.
Pain seeped from my body, offering slight relief, but not enough.
A third strike tore more flesh from the bone.
Then, just as I struck the wood for the fourth time, fingers clawed into my arm. A throb pounded through my temples as my chest heaved.
Mother’s touch on my bleeding hand was gentle yet firm. “Stop,” she commanded, her voice cutting through my anger.
I clenched my jaw, fury still coursing through me like a relentless fire.
The shards of betrayal threatened to tear me apart. If broken hearts could be weapons, then I would forge them to seek vengeance against Levi and his kin for all they had stolen from us.
Another shard broke off my heart as I looked into Mother’s sad eyes.
My father crushed her heart first. And I might break it again. I’d do anything to keep the land that she and Lilly loved so much, even if it meant getting myself into a heap of trouble.
I didn’t have money, but I was determined to make some.
No matter what it might cost me.