Page 71 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

But I’m also grateful for my mom’s health and my dad’s newly renewed peace of mind. I feel lucky to get to work alongside my folks at the beautiful vineyard they built from the ground up. I’m grateful that I get to use my Yale degree, just like I’d planned, taking over the family business that we all care for so much.

And even though it wasn’t where I’d planned to end up, I’m grateful for Fine As Wine. It was honest work and helped me and my family get by. It saved us, and it led me to Shira.

Plus, I made a couple of good friends out of it. I see Tonio leaning against one of the apple trees, muttering something to Valentina that makes her smile. He catches my eye and, grinning, gives me two thumbs up. I grin right back, heart swelling with emotion.

As far as I’m concerned, I’m the luckiest man on the planet.

Laughing from pure joy, I pick up my wife and, lifting her to spin her around, sweep her off her feet all over again.

Falling Into You

Isla

Ipress the phone close to my ear, as if gripping it tighter will stop my whole body from shaking. As if it will stop me from hearing my father speak the words I’ve been expecting, and dreading. As if it will help me breathe.

“I’m sorry, hon,” comes my dad’s warm voice into my ear. I can hear the tiredness tucked between the syllables. “I wish I could ask you to come home for a better reason.”

I draw a shaky breath. “How bad is she?”

He hesitates. “She’s like a gray and windy day. Much of the time she’s someone else, confused, sometimes frustrated. But at least once a day, it’s like the clouds clear and the sun touches her and she’s the woman I married again, for a little while anyway.”

He sighs, and my gut twists. I had no idea my mom was so far gone in her dementia. I’ve been living half a day away, leaving my father to care for her. Sure, he has my brother, Tristan, in Edgewood to help out. But I know my brother, and I’d bet good money that he’s been keeping his distance.

“Will you come?”

My father’s voice is so thin. My belly twists again, pinching.

“Of course, Dad. Of course I’ll come.” I glance at the red clock hanging on the turquoise painted wall above the kitchen’s stove. It’s nearly evening, too late for me to be willing to pack my daughter into the car and drive across Massachusetts. “Guin and I will leave first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t want to put you and Guinevere out. But I thought you’d want to see your mama before she completely —“ His voice grows thick, and he can’t speak.

“You’re not. I’m just sorry we haven’t visited sooner.” I swear under my breath, cursing myself. “I’ll email Guin’s teacher tonight and get the work she’ll miss. And you know I can take my freelance writing work anywhere. It’s not a problem. And even if it were, you and mom are way more important.”

He sniffles, and the sound nearly breaks my heart. “Thanks, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Dad. I love you.”

The call disconnects from his end. I stare at the silent phone in my hand.

I swore I’d never go back to Edgewood. There are too many bad memories, and too many folks who never left the small town.

But my parents were not among the painful parts of my history there. My shoulders sag with the weight of feeling I’ve failed them. How could I have stayed away for so long when my mom was losing herself and my dad was probably struggling to bear the emotional brunt of her care?

I can’t judge Tristan. I am no better than my brother, hiding here in the outskirts of Boston.

But it is time to change that.

Setting the phone on the kitchen counter, I take a moment to stretch my shoulders, then head for the bedrooms.

“Guin,” I call, “want to go see Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow?”

The excited squeal that pierces my ears even from down the hall tells me everything I need to know. I’ll let her revel in her excitement tonight, and tell her about the reason for our visit on the car ride tomorrow.

God knows I’ve given her few enough memories with her grandparents. I’m not going to make her worry about them all night, empathetic soul that she is.

But I will tell her . . . and maybe start to make up for lost opportunities with what little time we have left with my mother.

Ash

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