Chapter Twenty
Alara held up her glass of orange juice, letting the light catch the drops of condensation as they ran down the sides, the sunlight turning them to liquid gold. She set it down on the table when Charles appeared at her side.
"May I?" he asked.
"Of course. Please, sit." She shook her head with a smile as he took the seat beside her out on the terrace.
They'd finished dinner a while ago. Reaves and Zia were down the side of the house watering the sunflowers, and she'd thought Charles had retired to his study.
"Something amusing?" he asked.
"Not amusement," she told him. "More like amazement that you ask if you may sit down, when this is your place, and I'm the guest."
He reached across to pat her hand. "You're not a guest, Alara. I thought we'd cleared that up by now."
"Sorry, I…" The last thing she wanted to do was offend him. He'd given her and Zia so much.
He chuckled. "You certainly don't need to apologize. What I was about to say was that, far from being a guest, you're family. I haven't wanted to use that word before—not because I didn't think it, but because I didn't know if you'd trust it."
Zia's laughter carried to them on the breeze, and they listened for a moment to her and Reaves chatting, the words indistinct but the happiness in them quite clear.
"I don't know how things are progressing between you and Reaves, and I'm not asking," he added hurriedly. "But I am hopeful about the direction the two of you are moving in."
She nodded slowly. She'd been doing a lot of thinking since Faye had handed her the wish Zia made in the kitchen yesterday. She didn't want to promise too much—not to anyone, not just yet. So she told him the truest thing she could. "I'm hopeful too."
"Good. Then let's leave that there for now, shall we?" He sipped his whiskey and stared out at the setting sun.
She did the same, comfortable in the silence with him in a way that felt unfamiliar. Silence she was used to, but sharing it was new.
After a while, he turned to her. "How was the injection today?"
She glanced down at her arm. "It wasn't bad at all. It's a little achy, but Caroline said that's to be expected."
He nodded. "And the next infusion is on Friday. Is that right?"
"Yeah. And I'm hoping Dr. Ambrose is right that the second one won't have the same effect as the first."
He turned to her with a smile. "It wasn't such a terrible weekend, was it?"
The twinkle in his eye made her smile. "No. It was far from terrible. I was wiped out, sure. But everyone took such good care of me."
"And you let us." She raised her eyebrows, and he nodded.
"That's the trick, Alara. I won't claim to know what it is in your history that makes it so difficult for you.
All I can tell you is what I know from my own experience.
When you have people in your life who want to take care of you, life gets a whole lot better—for you and for them—if you allow it. "
"Thanks. I think I'm starting to learn that."
"I'm glad."
They sat in silence another while. She loved the light here. It bathed the vine-covered hills in gold.
When the sun glinted off something, she leaned forward, trying to figure out what it was. It had to be that same greenhouse, or whatever it was, that had caught her eye from the office—the golden light that had finally brought the whole design concept together for her.
She turned to Charles and pointed. "Do you know what that place is?"
He looked for a few moments, a wistful faraway look in his eyes. "I do. I know that place very well."
Something about his tone caught in her chest, and she waited, hoping he'd tell her more.
He took another sip of his whiskey before he continued, never taking his gaze off the glinting glass in the distance. "The thing that catches the light is a greenhouse."
She'd thought as much, but she didn't want to say so. Instead, she waited.
"When it's shining like that, you can't make out what’s beside it.
" He paused, seeming lost in his memories for a few moments before pulling himself together.
"It's the house. That was the first house I bought for my darling Marguerite.
" He glanced at her. "For Reaves's mother. She would have loved you."
"I would have loved to know her."
He nodded. "But the house." He cleared his throat.
"I bought it for her when we came here. It stands on a small parcel of land.
When we first moved in, I used to stare at this place—this house wasn't here then.
Just the land. I knew that one day it would be covered in my vines.
That we'd work this land, grow the vines, and make wonderful wine together.
" He nodded. "And we did. Just not for long enough, I'm afraid. "
He sat up a little straighter. "I built this place for her." He gave her a rueful smile. "People thought it was an eyesore at first. I imagine some still do. But it never bothered me. My Marguerite wanted to live in a castle, so I made sure that she did."
Alara's hand came up to cover her heart. "Oh, Charles."
He nodded.
"Do you still own that house?" she asked eventually.
"Oh, yes. Yes. I couldn't… I'd never…" He shook his head. "It was rented out for years. A nice young family. But they grew up and moved on." He shrugged sadly. "I should probably do something about it."
She wanted to tell him he should never let it go. It was easy to see how much it meant to him. But it wasn't her place to say.
Silence settled over them again for a while, Reaves and Zia's laughter drifting to them, snippets of conversation—and if Alara wasn't mistaken, the word Homer was coming up on Zia's side far too often.
The sun had set now, and the sky was slowly fading to darkness.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, watching him take it in.
"It is. I love this moment when the stars return.
" He pointed to a constellation she didn't recognize.
"That's where she lives, for me now." He gave her a rueful smile.
"I don't know if you believe in that sort of thing.
To be honest, I don't know what I believe myself.
But it gives me some comfort to think she's up there, riding the stars, having fun.
" He looked a little embarrassed. "The ramblings of a sentimental old fool. "
She reached out to touch his arm. "Don't say that, Charles. You're not old, and you're no fool. And for what it's worth, I'm just as sentimental."
He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. She still hadn't told Reaves. But Charles had shared with her, and it felt important to share with him.
"That's where Zia thinks her father lives, too."
His eyes grew wide, but he didn't question her.
"The subject hasn't come up, but I'm sure you must have wondered.
" She glanced toward the side of the house.
"And Reaves, too. I'm not hiding anything.
It just…" She shook her head. "He was a good man.
He was my friend." She gave him a sad smile.
"And that's really all he ever was. We grew up together. "
She looked out at the greenhouse. "I didn't know my parents.
I was raised by my aunt. She hadn't wanted children of her own, so I was something of an inconvenience to her.
Jesse lived next door. He was a couple of years older than me, and I was a quiet, skinny kid.
" She said it with a smile. "He looked out for me.
He was kind. And there was nothing—no romance.
He went away to college. But he came home in the summers, and then… "
She drew a breath. "I always wanted to go to art school. But when it came time, my aunt wouldn't let me go. Jesse went to the Air Force after college. I didn’t see him for a few years. The next time he came home, he couldn’t believe that I was still stuck there and I was so sad.
I wanted to run away. I didn’t know what I could do.
And he comforted me." She dropped her gaze.
"Just that one time. It was kindness, nothing else. "
She stared out at the vines for a moment. "He went away on a climbing trip with his friends. And he didn't come back. Neither of us knew about Zia before he died."
Charles cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, my dear."
She shook her head. "No, I wasn't asking for your sympathy. I just wanted you to know." She tried to shrug it off. "Didn't want you thinking there's a deadbeat dad out there who might show up one day." She gave a short laugh.
But he shook his head. "Don't do that. Please."
"No. I'm sorry. You're right. I'm really not trying to make light of it."
"I understand. And it means the world that you shared it with me."
She nodded. "It means the world that you shared with me too, Charles. Thank you."
He smiled and turned to stare up at the sky again, darker now, the stars shining a little brighter.
~ ~ ~
Zia skipped along, shaking glitter from her pot onto the sunflowers as Reaves watered them. She did it every time, convinced it helped them grow. Reaves wasn't so sure about that, but she enjoyed herself so much that he couldn't bring himself to say anything.
She'd been chattering away while they watered and picked weeds, mostly about Homer and occasionally about Callie. She caught up with him at the corner of the house.
"What are you waiting for, Prince Daddy?"
He stared for a moment at Alara and his dad, sitting quietly, gazing out at the vine-covered hills, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. He turned around and grinned at Zia.
"I'm thinking we should probably go water the flowers around the front. We forgot them."
Her little face fell. "Oh no. We can't forget those flowers. They're pretty, too." She frowned. "But we don't water them because they're pretty. We water them because they're flowers, they're growing things, and because they need water, and we have it."
He chuckled. "That's right. Come on, let's go."
She leaned to one side, peering around his legs at her mom and his dad. "Do you think they're okay?"
"I think they are. They look peaceful, don't you think?"