St. Helena, Napa County, California
November 1999
I AVOIDED LOOKING DIRECTLY at the boys the day after finding Andrew and Michelle together, my thoughts dark and troubled as I prepared Thanksgiving dinner. I was afraid that the truth would burst from my lips, and what would happen then? What would Josh do to his brother for sleeping with his girlfriend? I was disgusted with Andrew, and questioning whether Josh was telling the truth the whole time about the photo of Abby. He had blamed Andrew, and everyone had believed him—except me. But what was Andrew really capable of? Had I defended him to David, possibly at the cost of our marriage, for nothing?
We need to do something, Bev, David had said after we got the call from the school about the photo. We need to make this go away. I knew he wasn’t thinking about just our family, but our winery. Our reputation.
My brain began filling with memories like a deep well.
The boys at six years old, drawing pictures of our family. Josh’s had been scribbled hastily, Andrew’s more detailed, his little forehead creasing in concentration. The next day, Andrew’s photo went missing, and he cried. He didn’t flat out accuse his brother of stealing it, but he didn’t have to. I knew where the photo was long before I found the strips of paper crosscut in David’s shredder.
They’re kids, David had said with a shrug. They need to learn to work things out.
The boys at ten, running races down the corridors in the vineyard, timing each other with stopwatches. They both planned to run cross-country for the elementary school team. To my surprise, Andrew was the faster runner, but one day, he came back with a sprained ankle, claiming he didn’t want to join the team after all.
Accidents happen, David had said.
The boys at eleven, twelve, thirteen. Every year, there had been something Josh took away from his brother, insignificant enough for me to convince myself nothing had happened—small enough, maybe, for Andrew to convince himself nothing was wrong. He never said anything against Josh. Sometimes he looked at me like he wanted to, like he was imploring me to read his mind. It was easier for me not to intervene.
But after the barn, I looked at those memories through a new lens. Maybe Josh had never done anything wrong, and it was Andrew who had lied to make his brother look bad.
I knew it was only a matter of time until Josh found out and Michelle discovered the truth, a gut-wrenching thought that I could barely let myself imagine. In my despair, I convinced myself there was a chance neither of them would ever know. Andrew would be back to the Dunn School after the holiday. The boys were safer apart from each other. Eventually, Josh and Michelle would break up. They were seventeen, and even if they claimed to be in love, their end was inevitable.
When Josh asked if a few friends could come over to hang out in the barn on Friday night, David heartily embraced the idea. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, the boys having friends on the vineyard on weekends, although less so lately, with Andrew away and Josh spending so much time with Michelle. We knew that drinking happened, but one thing David and I agreed on was that we’d rather they do it on our property than somewhere else where we couldn’t check in.
“Andrew, you should join,” David said when Andrew came downstairs for lunch.
“I don’t think so,” he mumbled.
“They’re your friends too. I want you to get out there and socialize a bit. Okay?” David was insistent, so hopeful that Andrew could fit in before we brought him back to Dunn on Sunday.
Andrew looked up at me, the same way he had as a kid. Imploring me to say something. My smile was tight, my nod almost imperceptible. He glanced back down at his plate when he realized I wasn’t going to take his side.
David was in a good mood the evening of the party, upbeat and jovial as he sang in the kitchen, chopping peppers and tomatoes for a salad. I rocked Kieran to sleep as I walked past the bay window in the living room, eyeing the throng of teenagers gathering on the property.
“It’s more than a few friends,” I murmured.
“It’s no big deal. Let them be kids,” David said. “Besides, with them out of the house, I thought we could talk. We haven’t… really talked yet, and I think it’s time.”
“Okay,” I said, Kieran heavy in my arms. I was afraid he wanted to do more than talk. David and I hadn’t been intimate since he returned, with the exception of a few kisses, a couple of instances of curling up together in bed.
“I’m making that seafood linguine you love so much. Remember, from that restaurant in San Francisco? That cozy little Italian place. When my parents babysat the boys.”
“Oh yeah.” David was trying, but reciprocating his enthusiasm took every ounce of my energy.
I did remember the restaurant in San Francisco. Josh and Andrew had been three or four, and I’d finally felt like myself again. I had been in a great mood until David brought up the idea of having another baby, a conversation I was nowhere near ready for. I told him I wanted my tubes tied: our family was complete, and with the baby phase behind us, I wanted to focus on raising our twin boys. He suggested I might change my mind. I went to the bathroom to get away from him, and when I came back, he was apologetic.
“I ordered for you,” he’d said, his hopeful double-dimpled smile a peace offering. But I had never wanted the seafood linguine.
I kept my eyes trained on the window. A car pulled into the driveway, and Michelle got out of the back seat, wearing a pink dress and a shrunken leather jacket. She wasn’t smiling, and instead of heading to the barn, she made her way up the porch.
She knows, I thought, my brain racing. I slipped outside to meet her.
“Hi, Mrs.—Bev.” She smoothed down the hem of her dress. She was nervous, but so was I. Somehow I managed to make my voice sound normal.
“Hi, Michelle, how are you?” So much was unsaid between us. Michelle had seen me with Emilia. I had seen her with Andrew. We both contained truths that would be devastating if said out loud.
“I’m okay,” she said, still fidgeting with the pink fabric of her dress. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something—”
But before she could say anything else, David joined us on the porch, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.
“Michelle,” he said, his voice big and booming. “Great to see you. I think everyone’s at the barn already.”
She nodded, her entire demeanor changing. “Right. I guess I should head over.”
I wanted to reach out and grab her elbow, to tell her to stay, to hear whatever it was she was about to say. But she didn’t turn around once as she headed to the barn.
David was waiting for me in the kitchen after I put Kieran down in his crib, a hopeful smile on his face. He handed me a glass of chardonnay. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against mine. “To new beginnings. To no more secrets.”
I took a first sip of wine, the vanilla-spice taste settling on my tongue. I waited for the guilt to set in over my own secrets, but it never did.
“I was thinking,” he said. “Remember when we were dating and I used to cook for you while you were studying? Except if I made seafood, it usually came from a can, since it was all I could afford.” He paused. “All I ever wanted was to take care of you, and I messed it all up.”
“You did take care of me,” I said. David used to show up at my door with food he’d made for me, simple dishes like Hamburger Helper or garlic noodles, lovingly packed in Tupperware. If I was busy with schoolwork, he would give me a quick kiss and tell me he would call me later. He never did something because of what he might get in return.
“Maybe my problem was that I didn’t let you do the same for me,” David said. “I always wanted to protect you from all the bad things. But you were very capable on your own.”
“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I’ve been thinking about the past a lot, since… your indiscretion. About us.”
David clasped his hands together. “You’re doubting everything because of me. Because of what I did to you. And, Bev, cheating on you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” His eyes became glassy. “I want to put our family back together again. What do I need to do to prove it to you?”
I chose my words carefully. “When you were gone, I started thinking maybe we’d be better off that way. Being separate. Maybe we’ve just grown apart, David.”
He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “We can find our way back to each other. We always have. We have a baby to think about—we don’t want him to grow up in a broken home. Look at the upbringing we’ve given Josh and Andrew. Doesn’t Kieran deserve that too?”
And look at how they’ve turned out, I wanted to shout, but David would never see his sons the way I did. He was a great dad, playful and loving, but his relationship with the boys lacked the worn-in intimacy that hallmarked mine. It was so much easier for David, disappearing into the vineyard and returning home for the fun parts, while I warred in the trenches with our children, potty training and prying stubborn mouths open to brush molars and trimming tiny half-moon fingernails without clipping skin, mediating temper tantrums and shouting matches. Father was something David wore like a designer label; mother was a scar embedded in my skin.
“You didn’t want to hear something negative about Josh. You silenced me, and maybe I wanted to punish you, because I know I pushed you away. Maybe this is a broken home.”
Panic appeared on his face. “I’m the one who cheated. I’m the one who messed up. And I understand I have a lot to make up to you, but I’m willing to do that. I want us to be a family again. I want that more than anything.” He paused. “What would happen if we separated? Josh and Andrew will be away at college soon, but we’d have to share custody of Kieran. Shuttle him back and forth. Your parents had problems, Bev. They put you and Camille in the middle, and that wasn’t fair. But you’re an incredible mother. We’re not them. We’re… us. Bev and David. David and Bev. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
I swallowed, my throat closing up. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved too.” It was true.
David tentatively stepped toward me. “Do you think you could forgive me for what I did? I know it might not happen overnight, but with time… we can go to couples counseling. I’ll see a therapist. Whatever you need me to do.”
“David…”
He closed the gap between us, took my hand in his, and led me to the sofa, where I reluctantly sat beside him. He kneaded my fingers gently between his. “I know we can’t start over, but we can make a go of this. We can be a family, a real family. I’m not excusing what I did or putting it on you, but I did try to talk to you about how I felt, so many times. It was one moment of weakness…”
I could feel it dissolve like wet tissue paper, my hatred toward David, the anger I’d burned with while he was away. And it wasn’t like I could just relocate to some far-flung location and still share custody of Kieran. I knew that already. I was tethered by motherhood and obligation, bound permanently by love.
“Bev,” he said. “Do you want to be with me or not?”
I couldn’t discount all the wonderful years David and I had had together. Emilia was gone, and I hadn’t heard from her in nearly two months.
I cleared my throat. “You’re asking if I can forgive you, but will everything just go back to the way it was?”
“No,” he said. “We’ll go to therapy. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll work less. If you want to travel more often, let’s go. I can give you what you want, Bev.” His palm was hot on my leg. “It feels good to touch you. I want you to feel loved by me.”
When he stood up and offered me his hand, I took it and let him lead me upstairs to our bedroom. I stood motionless as he slipped my dress off. His touch was tentative, like it was when we first started dating, when he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do, his fingers migrating from my breasts down below my belly button, between my legs, hesitant and questioning.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathed in my ear.
It was impossible to articulate when I felt so torn in half. But I owed it to us to try.
“I want us to be real. To let go of the idea that we have to be perfect. To not be afraid to fight.”
I watched the surprise wash over his features. He had been expecting me to say something else. “You never have to be afraid around me, Bev. I’m not going anywhere.” He dragged his mouth down my stomach, tongued the skin of my inner thighs. I pulled him on top of me. I wanted to be as close to him as possible.
I felt him enter me, slowly at first, then picking up speed. As he rocked back and forth, his hand cupping my face, my thoughts wandered, but my body responded. The orgasm built. I was out of excuses to hate David. He had cheated, but so had I. He had slipped up once, but I’d done it on purpose so many more times.
“I love you,” he whispered, and I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him deeper into me as I came.
“I love you too,” I said.
Afterward, I got dressed quickly, and we retreated to the kitchen. David served me seafood linguine by candlelight, his face more jovial and animated than I’d seen it in a long time. I tried to reciprocate, to give him the affection he wanted. And as we sat side by side, his ankle finding mine under the table, I realized I didn’t have to try. It was like we had slipped back into the way things used to be—but a messier, more honest version. I took his face in mine and pressed my lips to his, letting my tongue slip into his mouth. I hadn’t kissed David like that in years.
“Wow,” he said softly.
It was I who climbed onto his lap, I who rocked against him and initiated a second time. We’re going to be okay, I thought. I had chosen this life. It was the bed I had made, and it had always been comfortable.
After we finished, we were sitting on the sofa with our wineglasses when Andrew walked into the house, kicked off his sneakers, and ran upstairs.
“What’s wrong?” I called out after him, but he slammed the door to his room without answering. I was surprised he had even lasted that long at the party. When I stood up to go after him, David rested his hand on mine and stopped me.
“Let him go. Whatever it is, he’ll talk to us tomorrow, if he wants to. We have to give the boys space to breathe.”
“Okay,” I said, my lungs tight with panic. I felt trapped, unable to intervene, but David was right. Our boys were practically adults, and we couldn’t force them to do anything.
By the time Josh came back inside, it was after midnight. David had gone to bed, and I was washing the dishes from dinner. I tried to read Josh’s face, but there was nothing strange about his expression.
“How was the party? Has everyone gone home?” I asked, my voice far more casual than I felt.
He nodded, giving me a small smile. “Yeah, it was good. We made a bonfire, but don’t worry, I put it out. I’m gonna head to bed now.”
“Did something happen with your brother? He came in a while ago looking upset.”
Josh shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Wasn’t he at the party?”
“Not really. He kind of kept to himself.”
The worry churned in my gut. “Has Michelle gone home?”
“She got a ride with someone.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed for the stairs. “Good night, Mom.”
I watched him jog away, tall and handsome. I wondered how different he would have turned out if he’d had someone else for a mother. I pictured her, that woman. She wasn’t my mother, with her passive-aggressive comments, her moods flipping like a switch. She wasn’t me, too afraid of conflict to course correct. She was somewhere in between, and she would be doing a better job than either of us ever had.
I spent the next morning with the late-harvest grapes, Kieran in his stroller beside me. David wanted to wait to pick them, maybe even until the following week, but the number of birds we’d had hovering over the vines, curiously hunting and pecking, made me think nature was trying to tell us something. The grapes were beginning to shrivel, their purple skin puckering as their flavor sweetened. If we waited too long, there might not be any fruit left to collect.
I looked up to see David coming toward me and was about to tell him it was time to pick, but he spoke before I had a chance to.
“I just got a call from Rodney Young. Michelle never came home last night, and her friends don’t know where she is. The boys say she must’ve gotten a ride home with someone. You haven’t seen her, have you?”
Dread filled my body. Michelle had wanted to talk to me, and now she was gone. My instincts were telling me that something terrible had happened.
I answered David the only way I knew how. “No. I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”