I grin. Dax would be happy to hear this. “Thank you. I’ll take some Cabernet. The one with eucalyptus that you told me about yesterday, please.”
“Since when did you start drinking red wine?” My mom turns around, hands on her hips like I’m in trouble.
“I drink some red,” I counter. “But this is for Dax. You know he can’t stand drinking my Pinot Grigio. Says it’s too sweet.”
“It is,” Andrew chimes in. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes are emphasized as he explains, “The reds are good for the heart. In Greece, we drink at least one small glass a day, but over there, the wine is much more potent. And stronger.”
“Stronger?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Yes, but it’s even better for the heart, if you can manage the taste.” He winks.
“Well, you also sip Ouzo for fun, so I don’t know if I’ll take your word on this wine.” I nudge him playfully.
“Just be glad we don’t smash the grapes with our feet like my grandparents did in our village.” He snorts.
I scrunch my nose as he and my mom laugh with each other. He squeezes her waist, and that makes me smile.
They’ve been married for almost three years, and it often feels like they’re still in the honeymoon phase.
It’s obvious he makes my mom happy. She deserves it, especially after the divorce with my dad when I was twenty. She was alone for years before Andrew waltzed into Sunnyville to open the winery, claiming it was his retirement plan. Even though the Hoskins’s vineyards are extremely popular around town, Andrew’s unique and specific tastes make their winery successful.
He and my mom suggest a few wines for me to taste, and before I have too many, I hold up my hands. “Okay, I think that’s enough. I still have to drive home.”
“We take you,” Andrew offers, ever the generous man. My mom told me it’s part of his Greek culture to give and take care of others, especially those he considers family. It makes me like him even more.
“No, it’s really fine. I appreciate it, though.” I check my phone and find a message from Jacob. He’s about to get on the Ferris wheel. “I’m going to find Jacob and hang out with him for a bit before we head out.”
“Here’s a wine you and Dax will both enjoy.” Andrew puts a bottle of red in a long, brown paper bag and hands it to me.
Thanking them, I hug them both goodbye and make my way through the crowd. The sun’s setting, and more people have come out to listen to live music. The stage is decorated with twinkling lights that glow brighter and brighter as the sun falls behind the trees and buildings.
I pass the maze of hay bales, frowning as I recall getting lost in there when I was eight years old. Dax followed me in. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to me after I ran off, but I was already curled in a ball, scared of the dark. It felt like the hay bales were closing in on me like a demented scarecrow come to life.
But Dax grabbed my hand and helped me up.
He held my hand the whole way to the exit, and I remember thinking how smart he was to know the way out.
Dax always knew. He always knew what I needed before I asked.
He walked me through the changes in Internet—from dial-up to Wi-Fi and beyond. Mitch was good at that stuff too, but he worked a lot, especially when I took extra time off.
I went through a bout of postpartum and found it difficult to even put my shoes on, let alone make it to work once my maternity leave was up.
So, I didn’t go.
Mitch offered to pick up the slack, and being in a dark place at the time, I let him until I got help and felt good enough to work again.
Mitch was so strong, yet he became so fragile toward the end.
It broke me in ways I’d never experienced before.
“Clara?”
I blink back the onslaught of memories and find Dax in front of me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the tent?”
His eyebrows remain furrowed as he answers, “I had to take a leak, but I’m headed back there now for another hour. What’re you doing?”
I turn from the maze to Dax. “I’m so silly. I was just thinking about the time I got lost in there.”
“I found you crying.”
“Yeah. Not exactly an exciting memory, but I was just thinking, is all.” I bite my lip.
Dax wraps his arms around me, and his warmth makes me feel safe.
Like I’m not as alone as I often felt for the last year.
“I don’t know why I’m being like this.” My voice is muffled against his chest as I cling to him. “It’s just some stupid hay.”
“Tell me what you were really thinking about,” he pleads softly.
I pull back, forcing a smile, but I can’t hide from the one person who knows me better than I know myself. “I just… was reminded of Mitch. It’s been hard, you know? It feels like I haven’t gotten to really grieve since he died because it’s been one thing after another. Packing, moving, unpacking, making sure Jacob is adjusting okay. Just hard.” I pause, then whisper, “It was hard even before all that.”
He doesn’t ask for more details.
Instead, he kisses my temple, and I close my eyes, silently thanking him for not thinking I’m crazy, not that anyone would blame me.
But it’s nice to be understood as I have a near-meltdown next to a maze of hay bales, a row of Port-A-Potties, and families buzzing about.
“Why don’t I drive you and Jacob home?”
“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re busy, and we haven’t even had a single funnel cake.” I wipe at my face with the sleeve of my light cardigan.
“A lot of people left already, and I’m sure they can handle it without me. I’ll call
