Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Grayson's Vow.
BRACE yourselves...
MERCEDES
Evans Vineyard seemed very quiet... Sam had stayed in our room for the rest of the day, not returning to work, just lying on the bed staring at the wall.
I had come into the room several times, but he hadn't spoken to me much. But I figured he just needed to process what he'd found out. Who wouldn't?
He was deeply wounded and anguished.
The belief system he'd held close to his heart for so long, was now completely obliterated.
He'd been living and desperately trying to fulfill a singular vow... A vow based on what he now knew were lies.
And the truth that lay beneath was ugly and soul-crushing.
I didn't have to wonder if my husband felt aimless or disjointed because I'd been there once, too. I just wished he'd talk to me.
I'd woken in the middle of the night and reached for him, but his side of the bed was empty and cold. And now, I was walking in my small nightie through a dark, silent house, looking for him.
"Sam?" I called softly.
No answer...
So I stood still and listened, finally hearing something very far away that sounded like breaking glass...
I followed the distant noise until I came to the door in the living room that I now knew went down to a wine cellar, although I'd never been inside.
It was open just a small crack, a light shining from below.
"Sam?" I called again. When there was still no answer, I opened the door tentatively and descended the narrow, spiral staircase.
The sounds grew more distinct, one loud crash startling me and causing me to pause before moving forward.
When I got to the bottom and peeked around the corner, I saw Sam sitting on the floor, leaning back against a shelf, drinking from a bottle of wine.
He saw me come into view and brought the bottle away from his lips, wiping the back of one hand across his mouth and holding the wine towards me.
"Mercedes, try it. It's a Domaine Lefl...blah blah blah who cares, from France," he slurred slightly, giving me a wry smile. Then he tossed the half-drunk bottle and watched as it shattered on the cement floor amidst several other smashed bottles, their contents pooling together in a now-worthless mixture of wine, glass and soggy bottle labels. "Oops, sorry, slipped right out of my hand. I'm not usually so accident-prone. Here, shall we try another?"
He reached behind him and grabbed a different bottle off the shelf and picked up the wine opener sitting next to him on the floor.
I rushed forward, kneeling down next to him...
"Sam," I said, leaning forward and putting one hand on his cheek. "What are you doing?"
He stopped in his efforts to open the bottle, looking blearily up at me...
"I'm sampling my father's rare wine collection," he said. "Harrold did a good job protecting it from him before he could destroy it himself, but I'm really only doing what he would've done if he'd been given the chance." He paused, hurt skittering over his features before he continued. "Do you know that of all the things I sold in this house, I avoided these because I believed it would disappoint my father? When you came along and I didn't have to part with this," he waved his arm backward indicating the shelf behind him which still held several bottles. "I was so damned relieved I'd done something else that would've made my father proud."
He laughed, a hollow sound filled only with pain.
Ah, so he was bent on taking what justice he could into his own hands. Only, if the look on his face was any indication, it didn't satisfy.
"So," I said, scooting closer. "How about we sell the rest of them instead of giving him the satisfaction of doing exactly what he would've done? How about we make some money off these and buy...a pet monkey and name it after your father? Or...a double-seated bicycle? We'll ride around Napa talking about what an ass your father was. I've got it! You know what ? Let's buy a parrot! And we'll teach it to say nasty things repeatedly about Dwight Evans." I placed my hand on his knee... "There are better things to do than this. We'll come up with something together."
Sam touched my naked thigh with one finger and trailed it upward, lifting the material of my nightie as he went.
"You are so beautiful," he said.
I smiled a small smile.
"And you are so drunk."
"In Vino Veritas," he whispered, repeating the phrase etched above the doorway I had meant to look up. His finger traced the waistband of my underwear. "In wine there is truth." He paused, his brow furrowing. "Only here, there are only lies and deceptions."
"Sam, no..."
He shook his head, bringing his hand away.
"Think about it, though. It really was such a perfectly devious plan... The perfect way to tell me how much he hated me... The perfect vengeance. If he'd had just a little more time, I could've come home to a pile of worthless ashes." He took a loud, shuddery breath... "I thought it was a gift, but it was the exact opposite. After everything... I thought he'd finally... Jesus. It hurts so much, Mercedes," he said, his voice filled with anguish. And the look on his face made me feel as if my heart would crack into tiny pieces to lie amongst the shattered bottles littering the floor.
"There's so much pain," he said on a broken whisper.
"I know," I said, moving right up against him and taking him in my arms as he leaned his head into my chest.
God, I knew the pain he was feeling now. I understood it and I ached for him.
"Listen to me, Sam," I leaned back and took his face into my hands, looking him in the eye. "There is always pain in this life. Not just for me, not just for you...for everyone. You can't avoid it. And sometimes the pain is so great, it feels as if it carves out the very essence of who you are. But it doesn't, not if you don't allow it to. It carves out a place in you, yes, but love is meant to fill that space. If you let it, pain makes more space for love within you. And the love we carry inside makes us strong when nothing else can."
His eyes searched mine...
"Do you believe that?" he asked.
"I know that."
He let out a long, shaky breath, burrowing his head into my chest again.
"My sweet Mercedes..." he murmured. "If only I could believe it, too."
"You can. In time, you will. Let that be the legacy your father leaves you. That's the perfect vengeance."
We sat that way for what seemed like a long time, me holding him until my legs beneath me began to cramp.
Then Sam finally looked up at me, running his thumb over my cheekbone, and murmured,
"Would it ruin the moment to tell you I want to take you upstairs and fuck you until I can't see straight?"
I laughed softly...
"I'm at your service. But first, let's make some coffee and get you sobered up. You're going to feel like hell tomorrow. And we have a long day of monkey shopping...or parrot shopping to do."
He let out a laugh that ended on a half groan half sigh.
"Okay," he finally said. "Okay."
"Sammy's not working today?" Alice asked, her face a study in concern.
"I don't think so. He didn't get out of bed this morning. But he needs to sleep, he drank quite a bit last night."
I had already told Harrold about the mess in the cellar and he had cleaned it up, taking inventory of the bottles Sam hadn't smashed. Maybe the monkey was a little over the top, but I was serious about the parrot.
"Perhaps I should go up and talk to him..." Alice said.
I nodded...
"Yes, maybe later, he really needs to sleep. But I'm sure he'd appreciate what you have to say. He seems so..." I chewed on my lip for a moment. "...grief-stricken."
"I'm sure that's exactly what he is," she said. She shook her head sadly. "And he can't be happy with me, nor with Harrold..."
"He'll come around."
Alice nodded, but her look was doubtful and her lack of confidence only served to make me more nervous. She seemed so distraught that I gave her a hug.
"He's going to be okay," I said. But my tone lacked conviction, even to my own ears.
The lost look in Sam's eyes when I'd left the room this morning had sent a chill through my blood.
And there was the fact that I was keeping something from him, too...
In the beginning, it hadn't seemed like information that needed sharing. But then everything had happened so quickly. And now, it was a secret between us and I knew I needed to tell him, but I didn't know how he'd react.
He was still on such emotionally unstable ground.
How many secrets could he process right now?
How much pain could a person handle before they broke?
'It's me again, Gram. If you could send me some wisdom... Please tell me...what do I do?'
Alice pulled me from my worried reverie...
"Sammy got a call this morning that his bottle labels are ready," she said. "I guess I'll go into town and pick those up for him."
"I'll take care of it. I need to get out for a little bit anyway. I feel like I'm breathing down his neck. He probably needs a little time to process everything on his own. And I don't want to get in the way of that. However, if he comes down, will you text me?"
"Yes, of course, dear. See you soon."
I drove into town, going straight to the small print shop where Sam had ordered labels for the wine about to be bottled.
The woman at the front desk brought the box out to me and then ran my bankcard, frowning slightly at the machine...
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Evans, but it says your card is declined."
"What? That can't be right," I said. There was plenty of money in that account. "Will you try it again?"
She did, with the same result, looking uncomfortable.
Despite the chill that went down my spine, I shook my head...
"My husband probably bought something and didn't tell me. I'll have to stop in at the bank. Men."
She chuckled softly...
"It's happened to me before, too. Do you want me to try another card?"
I didn't have another card. So I dug into my purse, counting out the money I had.
Thankfully, I had quite a bit. I'd taken out cash to tip all the workers at the party several weeks ago, but Sam had given Harrold the cash for that, so I hadn't used what was in my wallet. And it was all still there.
So I counted out the money for the bill and handed it over, thanking the teller and leaving the shop with the box of labels.
Placing it in the trunk, I got into my car and drove straight to the bank. The feeling of panic that had swept through me inside the print shop was now a full-blown case of buzzing nerves.
And my heart pounded in my chest as if it understood something terrible was about to happen...
'Oh God, please let this be some strange misunderstanding... a bank error, anything. Please, please...'
I parked, took a moment to take deep, calming breaths then walked to the bank. Thankfully, it was practically empty and I approached a teller without having to wait.
When I told her why I was there, she looked up my account and frowned at the screen...
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Evans. It appears there's been a hold put on your account."
'Oh God.'
"A hold?" I squeaked. "Does it give a reason why?"
She shook her head...
"No, I'm sorry. But you should receive something in the mail if your account is being garnished or if there's another legal reason for the hold."
My heart was beating so rapidly, I had trouble catching my breath...
"Are you able to check my husband's account?" I asked. "Just to tell me if there's been a hold placed on his as well?"
"Well..."
"Please," I said. "I don't want any other information. I know it's in his name only. Just if you could..." I drew in a sharp breath, panic overwhelming me for a moment. I brought my hand to my chest. "I'm sorry."
The older woman smiled sympathetically.
"Let me just..." She began typing on her computer. Then she frowned again... "Yes, it appears the same hold has been put on his account as well."
"Thank you," I said, the contents of my stomach coming up my throat. I swallowed heavily. "I appreciate it very much."
I turned to walk away and she called after me...
"I'm sure it will be cleared up, Mrs. Evans."
I turned my head, but kept walking. Because no, it wouldn't. Oh God.
"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you."
I walked briskly to my car, my skin cold and prickly, and once I was seated behind the wheel, I pulled my phone out, dialing my father's number...
He answered on the third ring.
"What have you done?"
Pause...
"Mercedes."
"My Gram's money," I burst out. "What have you done?"
I heard his deep sigh and then he seemed to put his hand over the receiver as he spoke to someone in the background. I thought I heard a door close before he came back...
"He's not right for you, Mercedes. He's a criminal."
"You bastard!" I swore. "You did do this. Why?" My voice cracked, sorrow and rage overwhelming me. "Do you really hate me that much?"
The words sounded familiar. Hadn't I just asked that question about Sam and his own father?
"Of course I don't hate you, Mercedes. I just don't want you making choices for your life that will lead you in the wrong direction."
"It's my life!" I yelled. "I'm a grown woman! You had no right to do this. And now you've put his business in jeopardy, too. He has employees who count on him."
"If your husband counts on your money for his success, then he's no man at all." His voice was tight, unrelenting.
"You have no right... No leg to stand on. That money is legally mine. My Gram left it to me."
"Yes, perhaps, but I can tie it up in court until you see the logic of my position and the folly of your choices. I'm doing this for your own good, Mercedes. I'm your father. I can't let you ruin your life."
Shock and horror slithered up my spine even as tears slid down my cheeks.
"You're doing this for your own good," I hissed. "You've never given my happiness a moment's consideration. You're doing this because of your own pride. You can't bear to see me do anything that doesn't work into some agenda of your own making. You can't bear the thought that I'm not under your thumb just like everyone else in your world."
He sighed...
"Mercedes..."
"Haven't you done enough to him?" I asked, realizing there was nothing to lose now if we discussed it. He'd already done what I'd feared most. "I remember, you know. I was there when the judge in his case came to your office. I heard your advice. I heard you tell him to throw the book at Sam... to make an example of him. And that's just what he did."
"I give a lot of people counsel. There's no law against it. And if that boy got the book thrown at him, it's because it's what he deserved."
He remembered... The bastard remembered.
The quickness of his reply gave him away. He hadn't when we'd gone to him in San Francisco, though, I was sure of it. He had to have looked more closely at Sam at some point after that. I knew it in my gut.
Whether it was before or after he'd offered him the bribe money, I didn't know.
My dad had taken part in screwing Sam over and all along. Not only had my husband's crime been an accident, but it had been based on valiant reasons... He'd been trying to protect someone.
For a moment, the only sound was my harsh breathing as I attempted to swallow the sobs desperate to escape my chest.
"That counsel you give affects lives, Daddy. Real live, breathing humans who have hopes and dreams. Like the advice you gave Chris on how to handle the situation with me. You crushed me. Did you know that? You crushed Sam, too. Please, please don't do this. Just put a stop to whatever you've done and let us be happy. You've done enough. Please."
I did sob then, a harsh, gasping sound.
"I'm sorry, Mercedes. This is for your own good, and Christopher's too, yes. But you'll see the wisdom in my vision someday. As for your current husband, I've made him a very generous offer to walk away from you. And I suggest he take it if he doesn't want his business to fail."
"And what strings are attached to that?" I spat out.
"Not many. He's receiving a significant amount of money for very little sacrifice. I asked only that he walk away from you permanently and go along with the story that he took advantage of you...a troubled girl with a significant trust fund."
Very. Little. Sacrifice. Me. That's what he thinks of me.
My blood turned to ice water, not at the fact that my father would throw me under the bus again, but at the realization that he had no qualms about ruining Sam's life, too.
Again.
"He's just beginning to earn back his reputation. And now you're asking him to lie and have people look at him like a pariah again? How do you expect him to make a life for himself in a place where people have no respect for him?"
"That's not my problem. With the money I'm offering, he can make a life anywhere."
This egotistical fuck-up of a father saw himself as some sort of hero. Was his ego so colossal, he truly viewed himself as an agent of justice?
He was truly delusional.
"Is that why you married him?" he asked. "Another charity case to you?"
"No. I love him," I said simply and truthfully. Because there was no reason to try to convince him of anything anymore.
I suddenly felt numb...
He would never leave me alone. I would spend the remainder of my life being his pawn in some form or another.
Staring unseeing out the windshield, I ended the call without another word.
I didn't remember the drive back home.
Home...
Another sob threatened to choke me as tears slid down my cheeks, one faster than the next.
"You're okay," I assured myself. "Everything will be okay. Sam and I will work this out together. He said he'd take care of me now."
Oh God, but neither one of us had a cent to our name once again.
I pulled through the gates and immediately noticed a black town car parked in front of the fountain. Oh God, now what?
As I pulled in behind it, Chris stepped out of the back seat...
My heart stuttered again and then took up a staccato beat. At this rate, I was likely to die of heart failure before this day was over.
I took one last deep breath and stepped out of my car, closing the door with a quiet click.
Christopher was already walking towards me...
"Mercedes, what's wrong?" he asked, a look of concern on his face.
I swiped at my eyes...
"Do you really not know, Chris? Or are you in on this, too? You and my father...some sort of demented duo," I suggested flatly.
He took a deep breath, his brow creasing.
"Yes, I know what he did. And I'm sorry. But I have to agree with his desire to get you out of here." He waved his arm behind him at Sam's home. "He's a murderer, Mercedes," he said harshly. "You're probably not even safe."
"I'm about a million times safer with him than I ever was with you."
My voice rose in volume as I spat the words at him. But suddenly another wave of defeat crashed over me. Fighting with Chris wasn't going to solve this situation...
I needed to change my tactic...
So I did.
"Chris," I said, moving closer to him, my voice shaking slightly. "I know what you did was..." I shook my head, searching for words that would persuade him, rather than anger him. "...because of the drugs and alcohol. I know that wasn't the real you."
He seemed to consider that explanation momentarily and find it agreeable.
"It wasn't, Mercedes." 'Liar!' "It wasn't me. I was out of control. But no one can know that. It would ruin me."
'But you were perfectly fine with ruining me.'
I shook my head briskly.
"I don't want to expose you, Chris. I'll never reveal what happened between us. I'll take the fall. It's okay. I'll do whatever you ask of me. Just please, convince my father to take the hold off my Gram's money. Convince him to leave us in peace. Will it really hurt you to come up with a new plan, one that doesn't involve me? Please, Chris, if you ever loved me at all, please let me be happy."
Chris worried his lip, appearing to contemplate my words. And hope leapt in my chest. So I moved a few steps closer...
"You don't know everything he does or everything he's capable of. I know you're better than him, Chrissy. Don't align yourself with my father any more than you already have."
"What he does?" he asked, moving a lock of hair away from my face. I suddenly glanced at the house, hoping against hope Sam wasn't looking out the window.
No, he was most likely still sleeping. But I didn't want him to walk into the middle of this. I needed to convince Chris to help me.
I shook my head...
"He manipulates people for his own schemes. He even used Sam. He's already hurt him and used him so terribly."
"Used me how?" came the cold hard voice next to me...
I sucked in a ragged breath, my heart leaping. I hadn't seen Sam because our cars had concealed him as he'd approached. And I'd been so focused on Chris.
I didn't expect he'd be working today, but he must've been, at least for a short time. Because that's the direction from which he'd come.
"Sam," I breathed, stepping away from Christopher.
Right at that moment, Fifty came from behind Sam looking straight at Chris and letting out a singular snarl, followed by two barks.
My eyes widened... It was the first time to my knowledge that she had ever barked in her life.
"I think you should leave. My dog doesn't like you," Sam said. His voice was cold and deadly.
Chris smirked...
"I'm sure she's about as good a judge of character as you are."
"She doesn't lie," Sam answered, his expression tight, his voice still frigid. "She's a dog, not a politician. Get off my property!"
"I was just leaving." Chris turned his attention to me... "You know my position, Mercedes. I'm as concerned about you as your father. We're here to help you. If you need me, call me. And I'll be here in a heartbeat."
At that, Sam stepped forward...
"I can assure you my wife will not need anything from you...either now or in the future."
Chris stared at him for a tense moment, my own breath suspended, and then wisely backed down, turning and striding to his vehicle.
I let out a harsh exhale...
Neither Sam nor I said a word as Chris got into his car and his driver pulled away around the fountain, and out the front gates.
Then...
"What in the hell was that about? Were you crying?" he asked, moving towards me, a look on his face that was a cross between anger, concern and wariness.
"I...yes." I let out another shaky breath. "We need to talk, Sam." I shook my head, my arms hanging loosely at my sides. "Can we go inside?"
He studied my face for a moment, the wariness suddenly taking center stage... Oh God, I was going to hurt him and he was already so hurt.
Dread made my shoulders curl forward.
However, he led me towards the house, even as I tried my best to ignore my shaking legs and follow him into his office.
I wondered at the choice, but perhaps he led me there simply because it was the nearest room to the front door.
"Do you want to sit?" I asked.
"I'd rather stand," he answered tersely. He was acting so business-like with me. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my body. "What's going on, Mercedes?"
His posture and the watchful look on his face reminded me of a man expecting a blow.
"The money's been frozen," I whispered, my face crumbling.
His expression registered first confusion and then shock.
"What? How?"
I took in a deep lungful of air...
"My father... I don't even know the details. But he's done something... made claims and tied it up somehow until they can be investigated."
"Okay, well, whatever claims he's made, they're baseless. That money's yours via the terms."
"I know," I said, my voice breaking. "But he can tie it up so long we're forced to start selling things just to survive. He can. He will."
Sam swore harshly, running his hand through his hair...
"I'm so sorry. I underestimated him. I didn't think..."
He stared somewhere beyond me, his expression an unreadable mask. He quiet for so long, I wondered if he'd speak again at all.
Then...
"Why was Chris here and what were you talking about? You mentioned your father using me," he finally asked, bringing his gaze back to me. "What did you mean by that? Tell me."
"Chris... he was just, I don't know, pretending to be concerned about me." I moved towards my husband, putting my hands on his biceps and looking up into his face, using my eyes to plead with him. "Please try to understand what I tell you next. Please understand why I'm only telling you now. At first I didn't think it was necessary...and then the more time that passed..."
He went stone still.
"Spit it out, Mercedes. Now!"
I turned away from him...
"I told you how I interned for my father. And I was frequently at his office. So I would overhear things..."
I dropped my arms, turning back to Sam who was listening intently. I shook my head, trying to find the right words.
"My father, he's always had this idea that if he has influence with the local judges, he has the ultimate power."
In that respect, he wasn't wrong. Truth didn't matter; facts didn't matter if you had the people who made the final decisions in your pocket.
"He grooms them if he can, as in the case of Chris. He curries favors, makes deals and so on. He's done it for years."
Power, it all comes back to power.
"What does this have to do with me?"
My eyes moved over the hard lines of Sam's expression...
"One night we were at his office after hours. I was finishing up a few projects as I waited for him. And the judge in your case..." I glanced at him, but his expression didn't change. "...came in to consult with my father on a few cases...one of which was yours."
"Go on," he said, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.
I expelled a long breath...
"I was delivering a file and I only overheard snatches, but it was enough to understand. It was an election year, see, and my father advised him to throw the book at you... to give you the ultimate sentence and send a message that he wasn't only tough on crimes committed by the poor and minorities, but that he also delivered harsh sentences to rich white criminals, as well. It's all a game... a game of perceptions and manipulating "facts". The players don't matter, the individual lives don't matter...anything can be twisted if you come at it from the right angle. You were a pawn. It's the reason you didn't get community service or a minimum sentence like your lawyer believed you would. Because of my father you went away for five years. And I... I never forgot your name. That day at the bank, I heard it and I remembered."
I finally braved a glance at Sam's face, looking for understanding, but although his skin had paled, his expression held nothing except cold impassivity.
"And then you decided to use me, too. It was all one big set up," he said.
I furrowed my brow...
"What? No, that's not... Running into you at that bank was like fate and I..."
"You expect me to believe that now? Using me is exactly what you did." He laughed then, an ugly sound full of disdain. "What a perfect way to get back at your own father. Talk about the perfect vengeance. Marry the man he helped put in prison. No wonder he was so livid. Jesus, you're just like him, scheming and using people."
I suddenly felt like I was suffocating...the room growing dark at the edges around me, as if I had tunnel vision.
Scheme?
Use people?
No, I didn't do that. Did I?
I would admit I'd often come up with plans and ideas, but they weren't used to hurt people.
Suddenly, I was sick and confused. I put my hand on the edge of Sam's desk, steadying myself...
Did I?
Is that what I did?
Had I done that to him?
I shook my head in denial.
"I didn't use you, Sam. I just wanted to try to make it right. I thought..."
"Make it right?" he yelled, startling me. "How have you made anything right?" He laughed again, running his hand through his hair and grabbing a handful before bringing his hand down again. "Was that the plan all along? Use me to get the money and then take it back somehow? Holy fucking God! You're all liars! And look where you've left me...penniless, shackled to a schemer and now having to contend with your father again...the man who once ruined my fucking life!"
His face had gone from pale to flushed and his voice shook as he yelled.
"Sam," I said, holding out my hand and moving closer. "Of course I didn't plan it. You're seeing this all wrong. After what your father did, I can understand, but you're looking at this through the eyes of someone who's just been hurt very badly. Please, if we come together...you and I...we can think of something that will..."
He stepped back away from me, the look on his face full of disgust. I dropped my hand...
"Come up with something? Still conniving, Mercedes? Just stop, I can't take anymore. It's making me sick. You make me sick. I'm just sick of it all... The manipulations, the lies, the half-truths."
I shook my head...
"You're making this out to be something it's not. Please, just take some time to think about it. I'm not like my father. I'm not like your father."
My voice ended on a whisper and I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
"This has nothing to do with my father," he spat out. "This has to do with you and the fact that I'll never trust you again."
I shook my head, denying what was happening... denying the cold distance in his expression.
"I know it must seem like you can't believe in anything anymore. But you can believe in me."
"I thought I could."
A single tear slid down my cheek...
"Sam, I'm your wife. What we have together..."
"I can get down at the corner bar any day of the week," he said icily.
I put my arms around myself again, trying desperately not to believe his vile words.
"I know you don't mean that. I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you," I croaked brokenly.
He leaned his head back and laughed, causing me to wince with deep hurt.
"Love? Love? You know what love has gotten me in my life?" He picked up a paperweight off his desk and threw it hard at the window. The glass shattered as it hit, flying straight through and landing somewhere on the ground outside.
I let out a little yelp... And he turned to me, his hands fisted at his sides...
"You don't love me. I was bought and paid for, nothing more. I acted the husband, didn't I? And now our business arrangement is over. Get out!" he said. "Get out of my house!"
"Get out?" I asked. "I'm your wife, I live here. This is my home..."
"Not anymore. I'm calling your father this afternoon and taking him up on his offer. At least the rest of the people who work at this vineyard won't have to suffer because I married you."
I hung my head and then lifted it to meet his eyes...
"Please, Sam, if you'll just let me explain so that..."
"I have no use for your explanations or your pretty words. They all end in lies. Get out!" he yelled, his expression furious.
I startled again and then let out one singular sob. Then I turned towards the door, flinging it open.
I raced past Fifty who whined mournfully, but started following along behind me.
Sobbing openly now, I ran to the master bedroom and stuffed clothes and toiletries in my suitcase. I was sure I was leaving a few things behind but was too distraught and grief-stricken to do a thorough search.
Hadn't I done this before?
Stuffed clothes in a suitcase to make a hasty escape?
Only that time someone was pursuing me. This time... this time I was being tossed out.
By my husband.
By the man I loved with all my heart.
But maybe it's what I deserved.
I bent down and looked Fifty in the eyes, rubbing my hands over her wounded head, attempting to control my harsh breathing.
"There's my beautiful girl," I said. "You take care of everyone here, okay? And know I love you and that you're a good girl, such a good girl."
I stood up before I collapsed in more tears and made my way down the stairs...
When I made it to the front of the house, I paused to look in the open door of the office. Sam was standing behind his desk, leaning over, his hands flat on the surface in front of him.
I almost stepped towards him, but he looked up, his face hard and remote as he stared at me wordlessly.
He had completely withdrawn as if we'd never shared anything at all.
I backed up, then turned and ran through the front door, out to my car where I tossed my suitcase in the backseat and got behind the wheel.
A burst of air shuddered up from my chest as I again struggled to catch my breath... But it felt like the world had collapsed all around me.
Sam was standing at the window now watching me leave, just as he had that very first day...
I started the engine and pulled around the bubbling fountain, past my little cottage and the oak tree I'd once climbed, out through the gates, speeding away from Evans Vineyard...
Speeding away from the only home where I'd ever felt I belonged.
Sad, so sad :(
Stay safe!