34. Mackenzie
Mackenzie
The wedding is beautiful. It’s a perfect day with clear skies and sunshine, not too hot or cold, not windy at all. Daphne is radiant and Luke is clearly crazy about her. I’ve never seen a couple so obviously in love, and it makes me ache with yearning.
That’s new. I never used to yearn at weddings.
Maybe I didn’t know what was at stake.
Jake arrives late and stays at the back of the church, like he’s not entirely sure he’s welcome. I can feel his presence, but I ignore him completely.
It’s totally up to him now.
I get text messages every thirty minutes from my uncle, updating me on the harvest. We got that rain and the sunshine I wanted, and the grapes are plump.
Uncle Franz is happy about the sugar ratios and the yield, but less happy about my decision to leave the red grapes even longer. We’re both worried about early frost.
The reception is at The Carpe Diem Café, of course.
Merrie closes down for the evening and Sierra serves hors d’oeuvres while everyone has a drink.
Daphne and Luke are circulating, accepting good wishes and welcoming everyone, and there’s a long table set down the middle of the restaurant for dinner.
Sylvia is lighting candles everywhere and the fire is crackling on the hearth. It’s just beautiful.
I studiously avoid Jake’s gaze but don’t even taste my wine.
As luck would have it, we end up almost back-to-back.
I know it because I can smell his cologne, the one that makes my toes curl in my shoes.
He’s with Mike, the two of them sticking to the perimeter of the celebration.
In attendance, suited up, wishing the couple well, but the history between them and the groom making it tough to join the spirit of the event.
“Hey, Uncle Jake,” Sierra says. “I want to ask you something.” Everyone – including me – turns to look
My god, he looks delicious.
“Okay, shoot.” Jake smiles at Sierra and then at me, and everything in me turns to mush.
Never mind my demands. Never mind my expectations. One more night of him naked would suit me just fine.
His eyes glimmer as if he knows what I’m thinking – or as if he agrees.
He holds my gaze and I get the message. You know where I am.
I do. I spent all night thinking of him alone in that big bed at the townhouse.
He sleeps in the nude. Why did I need to know that?
What am I going to do with that visual for the rest of my life?
“You have that red car,” Sierra says.
“I do.” Jake turns a little, indicating said car parked at the curb.
“Can I drive it?”
He is surprised into a laugh. Mike nearly chokes on his drink. The brothers eye each other, their agreement clear.
“Can I?” Sierra asks again.
“No,” Mike says. “It’s a big step from Rupert’s tractor to that car.”
“Rupert?” Jake echoes.
“We’re buying his farm.”
“Oh, that Rupert.” Jake says easily, his gaze sliding to mine.
I smile despite myself. As if there are that many Ruperts in the vicinity.
Sierra is oblivious to any subtext. “But how will I know unless I try?’
“No,” Mike repeats. “You need to conquer the Jetta before you drive anyone’s car.”
“He won’t even let me drive his truck yet,” Sierra informs Jake who nods solemnly.
“It takes time to learn to drive. And my car has a manual transmission. Do you know how to drive a stick?”
“The tractor has a stick.”
Jake looks at Mike.
“It’s older than both of us,” he says. “Three speed transmission. It’ll probably outlast all of us.”
“And I can drive it.”
Mike nods and smiles at Sierra. “She can. She’s good at it, actually.”
“A natural,” Sierra says. “That’s what Rupert said.”
“Who has a Jetta?” Jake asks.
“Also Rupert’s. Also ancient.” Mike takes another hors d’oeuvre from the platter and Sierra takes the hint, quickly resuming her duties. “I figured it would be a good stepping stone. He’s left it parked behind the barn. It doesn’t even have plates anymore.”
“But it has gas in it,” Sierra informs Jake. “Rupert told me that he left it ready for me to try. The keys are in the kitchen.” She sighs heavily. “But Mike hasn’t had time to give me a lesson.”
“Four speed?” Jake asks Mike.
“Five. Apparently, it really moves.”
“Please, Uncle Jake? Will you let me drive your car? I could tell everyone at school about it next week and it would be the best.” She smiles at Jake, clearly trying to influence him with charm.
“I’ve said no,” Mike begins, but Jake gives me a hard look, then raises a hand.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “I will come to the farm, wherever it is, and give you a driving lesson on the Jetta. And if you pay attention, and if you ace it, I might let you drive my car just a little.”
“Uncle Jake, you rock!” Sierra shouts. Both Mike and I reach for the tray, guessing that she’s going to impulsively hug Jake, but Jake gives her a look.
“I do not hug,” he says firmly.
“Then you should learn,” Sierra replies just as firmly, hands off the tray to her dad and gives an astonished Jake a tight hug. She steps back and reclaims the tray. “All of you guys need to work on your hugs,” she mutters then presents the tray to me. “It’s like they think everyone has a disease.”
These hors d’oeuvres are grilled shrimp, perched on a bit of puff pastry with some kind of filling beneath them, a spike of chive and a drop of red sauce. I take one, just because, and catch Jake watching me eat it.
Then his gaze slides away, leaving me feeling like the sun has moved behind a cloud.
“Maybe we should head out,” he murmurs to Mike and I guess they’ve agreed that their attendance will end with drinks.