Page 80 of Just Like This
“No,” Oliver choked out.
Palmer cleared his throat, distracting us from our grief. I swiped at the tears that seemed endless and followed Oliver out toward the guest house. Palmer left me there momentarily to head back for our rental car and bags. I wandered the small space, trying to get a sense of Garrett, but he wasn’t there.
I could see the rows and rows of vines from the many windows and decided to head out, knowing that if I wanted to ease this ache for a moment, I’d find relief there. I started walking slowly, examining the vines that were still full of leaves even if their fruit had already been harvested. My head popped up as I heard a rustling of leaves and crunching of earth. I twirled around to see if someone was approaching and saw a familiar head of chestnut hair.
“Garrett,” I called out. My feet carried me quickly toward the familiar form. “Garrett!”
My heart hammered wildly, and my hands started to shake as I reached out toward him. What was he doing here? Did he come home early?
“Hey, baby,” he greeted me with a half-smile that made my knees weak. He was wearing a plaid button down and a pair of khaki pants. He held his arms out to me, beckoning me. “I missed you so much.”
I rushed toward him, my vision blurred with tears. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I wailed. The moment my arms clasped around his waist, he was gone, and I fell to my knees. Frustrated, I banged my fists on the hard ground until they ached.
“Where are you?” I yelled.
The sound of feet rushing toward me renewed my hope, but it was quickly dashed when I looked up and saw Palmer heading toward me.
“What’s wrong?” he called out. When he was close enough, he slid his hands under my arms and lifted. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I replied, my voice numb and hollow.
“What happened?” His eyes inspected me, searching for signs of injury, and when he finally met my cold gaze, he seemed to understand. “You miss him?”
“What if something’s wrong? What if he’s hurt?”
“Oliver would have called you,” Palmer reassured me. He was right. We were together minutes before in the tasting room, and if something was wrong, then he would have told me immediately. “Why don’t you take a nap or something? Valerie said you don’t sleep much.”
Sleep? It was almost laughable. Since my father died, it seemed to evade me, and the only time I got any was with the help of medication. But it seemed like a good idea; medicating myself so that my brain shut off for a few hours.
“That sounds like exactly what I need,” I reassured him.
“Great. Oliver told me about this Italian restaurant in town called Scopa. I’ll call and see if they have a table available for tonight.”
I nodded my approval and followed him as we walked back to the guest house. Inside, I located my small carry-on suitcase and searched for the pills that would give me a few hours of peace and quiet.
“Here.” Palmer handed me a bottle of water, and when I gave him a questioning look, he said, “I know you well enough to read your mind, Cami. Just take one, okay? I don’t want to dine alone.”
I smiled weakly as I accepted the water and unscrewed the cap before taking a sip and swallowing down the tiny white pill. “Thank you,” I said, giving him a weak hug. I shuffled slowly through the house until I found the bedroom.
The bed was perfectly made with a downy white comforter and more pillows than should be allowed, but it looked like heaven. I didn’t even bother to undress; I just removed my shoes, before flopping down and curling beneath the covers. It wasn’t long before my mind went blank, and I found peace in a dreamless sleep.
Dinner was a disaster. I felt like a robot, just going through the motions. That was the downside of the pills that helped me sleep. They left me in a fog. When I woke up the next morning, I had a hard time even remembering what I had eaten, but it was easy to remember the apparition of Garrett I imagined in the vineyard.
The smell of coffee motivated me, and I quickly dressed before greeting Palmer. He smiled brightly as he handed me a cup of coffee. “I thought we could go out today and see some of the other wineries in the area,” he said, waving a few brochures.
“That sounds like a great idea.” I glanced out at the property; I couldn’t stay here. No matter how much I missed Garrett, I didn’t want to be haunted by these hallucinations. Coming here was supposed to make me stronger, not weaker.
“Oliver suggested a few, so I thought we’d have breakfast and then head into town and pick up some lunch.” I zoned out listening to the rest of Palmer’s carefully crafted plan. He was so sweet, trying to distract me and take care of me while I grieved the loss of my father and worried over Garrett.
I agreed to his plan and ate the breakfast he prepared. He watched me carefully the entire time, his entire body tense and ready to act the moment I appeared distressed. After we finished eating, I cleaned up the dishes, and Palmer left to meet Oliver in the tasting room.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage. The moment he was out of sight, I scrambled to my backpack and pulled out my laptop. Palmer made me promise before we left not to check my email, and yesterday, I put on a show for him even though my fingers itched to open it up and log on. But today, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I needed to know if there was an email waiting for me.
I fidgeted nervously while I waited first for my computer to boot and then for it to connect to the winery’s Wi-Fi. When my email server’s homepage popped up, I quickly typed in my log-in credentials and waited. My excitement was short-lived once I realized that my inbox was nothing more than a list of junk. There was nothing from Garrett. Disappointed, I logged off and shut down my computer. I slipped my laptop back inside my backpack and then headed out to meet Palmer in the tasting room.
