Chapter 17
About to dry the breakfast dishes the next morning, I reached for the dishtowel, but the towel ring was empty. “Weird…it was just here.” I scanned the kitchenette before calling Luke. “Did you take the dishtowel?”
“Nope.” He peeked around the corner from the utility room. “I’m troubleshooting the thermostat.” He shook his head. “No matter what the temperature’s set at, it stays 68 degrees.”
“Not this again.” The earlier cold drafts and more recent gust of wind came to mind. “Haven’t Mateo and Marianna moved on?”
His mouth curving in a smile, he shook his head. “The heating system’s old.”
“Then explain that.” I pointed at the missing dishtowel, hanging overhead from a viga beam.
****
At noon, Rosie delivered five to-go boxes.
I greeted her with a warm squeeze. “What’re these?”
“Your wedding dinner entrées.” Rosie beamed. “I want you and Lucas to choose your favorites.”
“This is much too elaborate.” Luke hugged her as he relieved her of the packages. “We don’t need any food tasting. Anything you make is delicious. Besides, we’re family.”
“Exactly. You’re family, so you deserve the best.”
“Then join us for lunch.” I opened the screen door as Teddy bounced about our legs.
As she entered, Rosie cringed at the towel waving from the rafters. “Why’s that hanging there?”
“Oh, I meant to take it down, but I got caught up in fixing the heater.” Luke set the food on the table, climbed on a chair, and pulled the dishtowel from the beam.
Rosie crossed herself.
“This may be in left field…” I paused as I set another plate. “But did anything strange happen in this room?”
Rosie’s nostrils flaring, she nodded. “Mateo’s second wife hanged herself.”
“Valentina?” I exchanged a look with Luke. “Where?”
Rosie lifted wide eyes toward the ceiling. “That same rafter.” She swallowed. “According to rumors, she hanged herself with a dishtowel.”
A shudder slid down my spine.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Luke tore off three paper towels for napkins, then pulled out Rosie’s chair. “What happened?”
“The story’s always been hush-hush, but from what I understand, Mateo never stopped loving his first wife. So much so, he often confused their names.”
“I can’t blame Valentina for being hurt, but to commit suicide over a slip of the tongue…?” I shook my head.
“Apparently, the last straw was a Freudian slip, when he called her Marianna in the”—she glanced at the bed—“boudoir…”
“Oh.” Luke sank into his chair. “That’s an indiscretion of a whole other magnitude.”
“The scuttlebutt was that she left a suicide note before hanging herself that night.” Rosie winced. “Mateo found her the next morning.”
I eyed the rafters from a different point of view. “No wonder Bea’s family resented Marianna. The bitterness must’ve run deep.”
“Deep enough to span four generations.” Luke spoke under his breath.
“But enough talk of star-crossed marriages.” Rosie began opening the to-go boxes. “Instead, let’s plan a happy one, beginning with the entrées for your wedding reception, which, may I remind you, is eleven days away.”
“Yikes. Knowing the timeframe is one thing but hearing it aloud is another.” I took a deep breath to fortify myself.
Rosie’s cheeks lifted in a smile as she described the contents of each to-go box. “This is gulf shrimp marinated in lime and cilantro. These are green chili and beef empanadas. This is grilled achiote chicken. These are three kinds of salsa with chips: black bean, green chili, and pico de gallo. And finally, nopales for any vegetarian guests.” Palm up, she waved her hand across the food, inviting them to eat. “Por favor come.”
I sampled the dishes, savoring each taste and texture. “The jumbo shrimp are so plump and juicy, they definitely have to be one of the entrées. And the empanadas are so light yet crunchy.” Groaning, I glanced at Luke. “We’ve got to include these, but I love the chicken’s color and peppery flavor.”
“A Mexican menu wouldn’t be the same without chips and salsa. They’re a necessity. And nopales are a traditional veggie.” He shook his head. “I can’t decide between these.”
“Then let’s not choose.” I grinned at the thought. “Let’s have a buffet.”
“When in doubt, have them all.” Rosie beamed. “A buffet it will be.”
“That was easy.” Pleased at how the wedding plans were shaping up, I returned her smile.
Then Rosie chewed her lip. “Did you have any luck in finding a dress?”
“I did, and I found the perfect veil.” Jumping up, I rinsed my hands at the sink. “Want to see?”
“The veil, anyway…” Rosie glanced at Luke. “I wouldn’t want the groom seeing the gown before the wedding.”
“I can take a hint.” He chuckled. “I’ll be in the warehouse. Call me when you’re finished.”
“In that case, let me show you the whole outfit.” I grabbed the dress and a slip from the closet and called from the bathroom. “It’ll just take me a minute to change.”
When I reappeared, Rosie’s face lit up. “You look lovely.”
“It’s really a tea dress, but I think it’ll do.”
“It’s perfect—just the right mix of conventional and unconventional.” Rosie’s eyes twinkled. “Now let me see the veil.”
“I put it in the hope chest for safekeeping.” I grinned.
“How appropriate.”
As soon as the chest’s heavy lid lifted, a swarm of flies divebombed my face, filled the cabin, and buzzed Rosie and Teddy.
The dog barked and snapped at the black flies.
I slammed the lid and thrashed my arms, fending off the pests, but their sheer numbers were overwhelming.
They attacked in droves, dodging my flailing arms and biting my exposed face, neck, and arms.
I slapped them as they bit, and my hand came away bloody. “What the heck?” Whistling for the dog, I called over my shoulder as I scrambled out the door. “Run, Rosie!”
“What’s all the commotion?” Luke sprinted from the warehouse.
“Flies.” I caught my breath. “When I opened the chest, they swarmed us like stuka dive bombers. We had to run outside to escape them.”
“They must’ve been breeding in the hope chest.” Rosie swiped at her cheek and smeared blood from a bite. “They’re like a biblical plague.”
Luke handed her a tissue. “You two wait here. I’m going to spray those flies and end this ‘plague.’ ”
I winced. “The insecticide won’t hurt the veil, will it?”
“No, it’s a non-staining formula. All it does is kill bugs.” Grinning as he entered the cabin, he spoke over his shoulder. “By the way, I like the dress.”
“Dang it, Luke!” Hands on hips, I huffed. “You weren’t supposed to see it until the wedding.”
Five minutes later, he emerged with the veil. “Here’s the culprit.”
I reached for it.
“Don’t touch it.” He pulled the tulle away. “It’s covered in fly eggs and crawling with maggots. I’m going to fumigate it outside.”
“I just bought it yesterday.” My shoulders slumping, I turned toward Rosie, telling her about the manufacturer’s number embroidered inside a heart, then turned back. “Can you show your aunt?”
As he searched the circular veil for the embroidery, maggots dropped to the ground.
“Gah.” My skin crawled. “I modeled that veil.”
“Here it is.” Luke stretched the fabric taut, making the number more visible.
“VIP01141899.” Rosie looked from one face to the other. “What’s it mean?”
“What if VIP stands for Valentina Isabella Perez?” I pointed as I read. “And if you add dashes to read 01-14-1899, that number looks like a date stitched inside a heart.”
Luke ran his finger across the digits. “Mateo married his second wife in January 1899.”
“Could this be Valentina’s wedding veil?” I searched Rosie’s face for confirmation.
“The idea’s far-fetched but not impossible.” Rosie’s reflective expression turned into a scowl. “But do you really want to wear this fly-infested rag at your wedding?”
I glanced at the veil alive with maggots. “No.”
“Then how about shopping for a new one in El Paso tomorrow?”
****
Rosie knocked on the door at sunrise. “If we leave now, we’ll be in El Paso when the store opens. Then we can stop for lunch, drive back, and be home by mid-afternoon.”
“Perfect.” As I poured coffee in the thermos, I shared the story about finding the engagement ring in the grounds.
“Maybe that was Valentina’s veil.” Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do with it?”
“Luke got rid of it.”
“Hope he burned it.” She counted off on her fingers. “The ring, the dishtowel, and the flies yesterday…that all happened since you bought the veil?” At my nod, she grimaced. “That veil’s spooky.”
****
The three-hour drive flew by as we discussed wedding plans, and when Rosie parked at the bridal salon, I turned toward her. “Except for Luke, you’re my closest friend. Would you be my Matron of Honor?”
“I’d be honored.” Rosie leaned across the seat to hug me, then opened the car door. “Come on. Let’s make this the best wedding ever!”
I tried on all lengths of veils, from twelve-inch blushers to knee-length mantillas. I weighed simple tulle against beaded lace, but finally settled on a waist-length, fifty-four-inch, sheer chiffon veil.
The saleswoman steered us toward a colorful array. “And your colors are…?”
“Rosé and Champagne.”
“We have twenty off-white shades, from ghost white and white smoke to flax and vanilla. The hue differences are subtle, but ivory and ecru might be the closest matches to Champagne.” The woman selected two from the assortment. “Which do you think would work better?”
“I had no idea off-white came in so many shades.” I fingered the fabrics as I eyed the faint contrast of colors. “Ivory.”
“Excellent choice. Now, how will you accessorize your veil?” The saleswoman stared at my head as if imagining the options. “Will you wear a glitzy hair comb, fresh flowers, a crown, or a bow?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked. “What do you recommend?”
“For this veil, I’d suggest a hair comb.” The woman led us to a display case of chic bridal clips and combs.
I wrinkled my nose at the pearl and rhinestone confections. “These are too chichi—definitely not me. We’re getting married in a vineyard.”
“Vineyard…” The saleswoman nodded knowingly. “In that case, what about a transparent plastic comb but with a bridal hair vine?” She took out a wiry accessory, intwined with pearls, crystals, and silver leaves. “The beauty of these vines is their versatility. You can mold them around any hairstyle you choose.”
“I love the leaf motif.” I ran my fingertips over the spray of leaves. “Do the leaves come in other colors than silver?”
“Gold or rose gold.”
I grinned. “Rosé gold!”
****
As she started the car, Rosie turned toward me. “My niece recommended a new restaurant nearby. Want to try it?”
“Sure.” Ten minutes later, I followed her into a narrow noodle shop. A wooden counter stretched the length of the dining area and offered a clear view of the kitchen’s open plan.
“Maeve?” An oddly familiar voice thundered from the back.
Cody? I tensed, recalling our last encounter.
He rose from his booth, his tall frame silhouetted against the restaurant’s light.
I glanced at the door, then turned toward Rosie. “Maybe we should—”
“Maeve, how good to see you.” As Cody strode toward me, he touched my arm, invading my personal space. “What are you doing in El Paso?”
His gaze never leaving my face, he reminded me of the dynamic man he had been once.
I swallowed, debating how to tactfully answer.
“We’re shopping for her wedding veil.” Rosie came to my rescue.
He blanched. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes, the wedding’s in how many days?” Rosie caught my gaze. “Ten?”
Cody’s shoulders drooped as he congratulated me.
“Thanks.” Keep it short. “Good to run into you, Cody.” Uncomfortable, I whisked a smile. “But I hope you’ll excuse us. Ros…my Matron of Honor and I have wedding details to discuss.”
“Of course…” He stepped back as if I’d slapped him. “My AA sponsor is meeting me in a minute, anyway. Glad you found my favorite ramen shop. Be sure to try the Miso Ramen…and again, congratulations.” His smile bleak, he gave a stiff nod to us both before heading back to his booth.
AA sponsor…? I returned a curt nod. Of all the “gin joints” in town, why did Rosie pick this one?
“Who was that?”
“An old friend.” I shrugged.
“That’s all?” Rosie stared after him. “He didn’t seem overjoyed about your marriage.”
“No.” I gave an uneasy sigh. “Sorry I didn’t introduce you, but…” I bit my lip.
Rosie’s shrewd smile relayed her impression. “Because he’s more than just an old friend?”
****
When Rosie dropped me off at the cabin, I gathered my packages. “Come in for a cup of coffee.”
“Thanks, but I’d better get back to the café. Give Lucas my love.” She drove off with a smile and a wave.
Unlocking the cabin door, I glanced about. “Luke? Are you here?” When no one answered, I peeked at the bags’ contents and unwrapped the tulle from its layers of tissue paper. Then anchoring the veil’s comb to my hair, I admired my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
The screen door flapped shut, and the dog’s toenails pitter-pattered across the slate floors.
“Luke? Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
Eager to show him, I sashayed into the living room and twirled around, letting the veil swing out. “What do you think?”
His eyes glassy, he muttered. “Nice.”
“Nice?” I blinked. “That’s it?”
“Sorry.” His smile distracted, he seemed unfocused. “You’ll make a lovely bride.”
“Luke?” I reached my arms around him. “What’s wrong?”
He pulled a crumpled grape leaf from his pocket. “Pierce’s Disease.”
Fingering the dried leaf’s red edges, I recalled our first dinner conversation. “This was the bacteria that ruined your grandfather’s vineyard, wasn’t it?” I went cold. “Will we lose the vines?”
“Possibly…just like my grandfather.” He ran his hand over his face. “I was so smug—thought I had all the answers.”
“Can pesticides help?”
“California’s been experimenting with a neonicotinoid insecticide—”
“A what?”
“A nicotine-based pesticide.”
Marianna’s diary entry came to mind. “Didn’t your great-great-grandmother use nicotine to treat chicken lice?”
“Nicotine-sulfate.” He sniffed. “Maybe this insecticide isn’t so new, after all.”
“Nothing’s new under the sun…” I flashed an encouraging smile. “But if it worked for her, it’ll work for us.”
“Hope you’re right.” His eyes bloodshot, he glanced outside at the swaying tree branches. “The problem is we have to spray as soon as possible—”
“So, what’s stopping us?”
“The conditions have to be right—dry and still.” He grimaced. “And the wind’s picking up.”
“If it doesn’t work the first time, spray the vineyards again.”
“The insecticide’s not cheap.” His shoulders slumped. “We can’t afford to time it wrong…”
My chest squeezed tight. “So, you’re saying we have one shot?”
****
While Luke drove to Fort Stockton for the insecticide, I snipped infested leaves from the vines, trying to slow the disease’s spread.
An hour into the trimming, my phone rang. Though Caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number, I answered.
“Maeve.”
The tenderness in Cody’s voice stopped me cold. Despite the sun overhead, I shivered. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize for the way I behaved the last time I visited you.”
“Apology accepted.” I was curt. “Now, if you’ll excuse—”
“Please don’t hang up.” His tone implored. “I’ve joined Alcoholics Anonymous, and step eight of the Twelve Steps involves making amends to everyone I’ve ever hurt. You’re the first on my list.”
“I’ve already accepted your apology.” My finger hovered over the disconnect button. “Now, if—”
“I wish you and Luke all the best.”
“Thanks, best of luck to you, too.” Ending the call, I debated whether to block his new number. Is he sincere, or is this just another ploy?
****
Luke returned four hours later. His face red as he climbed from his truck, he studied the gathering clouds overhead.
“What’s wrong?”
“A storm’s blowing in. We’ve got the pesticide, but we can’t use it. Yet the longer we wait, the narrower the window to save the vines.” His head hung low. “We could lose everything.”
“No matter what happens to the vineyard, we won’t lose everything.” I wrapped my arms around him. “Not as long as we have each other.”
The wind gusted through the vine rows in a mournful wail.
“Now what?” Looking at the darkening sky, Luke broke away.
A drop of rain splattered the driveway’s caliche dust, then another and another. Within moments, biting pellets of rain assaulted us.
“That rain stings.” Wincing, I rubbed my arm.
“That’s not rain. That’s hail.” Luke opened the passenger door as he helped me inside. “Hop in.” He crossed to the driver’s side, slammed the door, and started the engine.
Little balls of ice collected on the windshield as he drove. Then larger hail pelted the metal roof, thundering inside the truck’s cab.
By the time we reached the shed, hailstones the size of robin’s eggs littered the ground.
Protected beneath the shed’s roof, I opened the passenger door and stood on the running board to survey the truck’s roof and hood. “Look at all the dents.”
Luke groaned. “If Pierce’s Disease doesn’t destroy the vines, hail will.”
Ten minutes later, the storm let up.
The ground was white with an inch of hailstones. Luke raced to the vineyard, slipping on the icy pellets.
I followed, a lump in my throat as I viewed the damaged vines and bruised, pea-size grapes. All our work…
His shoulders slumping, Luke bolted from vine to vine, row to row.
“I’m so sorry.” I reached for his arm wanting to connect—ease his pain and mine.
“It’s not your fault.” Growling, he shrugged me off.
“I know, but this hail on top of Pierce’s Disease is so…unfair…” My words trailing off, I spoke to the air as he dashed to the next vine. “Luke…?”
****
At dinner, he seemed in a fog.
“Want more Salisbury steak? Peas?”
Barely eating or speaking, he only nodded or grunted.
****
The next morning, he stared blankly at his breakfast.
Caught between wanting to comfort him and give him space, I was stymied.
He got up from the table without a word.
“Aren’t you going to finish your eggs? And you never touched your bacon.” I forced a smile. “It’s your favorite—hickory-smoked and uncured.”
“Give it to the dog.” He pushed open the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Where else? The vineyard. Try to salvage what I can.”
I glanced at the window. “But it’s raining.”
“Then I’ll fix the sprayer.”
“You said the weather had to be perfect to spray the pesticide.”
“I’m not spraying. I said I’ll fix the sprayer!” He slammed out the door.
My chest tightening, I forced a deep breath.
****
Luke skipped lunch and tromped into the cabin at dusk, wearing mud-caked boots.
I set newspapers on the floor. “Why don’t you leave your boots by the door?”
Apparently unaware of the mess, he glanced at his boots, then, grunting, unlaced them.
I stifled a sigh.
He trudged to the table in stockinged feet, plopped down, and rested his head on his hand.
I bit my lip, teetering between sympathy and aggravation.
His shoulders started shaking.
Is he crying? Moving closer to comfort him, I noticed his shirt was drenched. “No wonder you’re shaking. You’re soaked through.”
“Huh?” He turned dazed eyes toward me.
“You’re dripping wet. Why don’t you change into dry clothes?”
“Why?” He shrugged. “I’ll just get wet again.”
“Luke…” You’re scaring me, I wanted to say. Instead, I ladled a bowl of homemade chicken-noodle soup and set it before him. “Eat this. It’ll warm you from the inside.”
He dipped his spoon into the broth and began eating mechanically.
I dished a bowl for myself and sat across from him, trying to make eye contact.
But his glazed eyes stared without seeing.
Resigned, I gazed out the window, watching rivulets of rain flow down the pane. His mood is as dark as the weather. I changed the subject, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Have you started building the wedding arch?”
“Don’t you think I have better things to do?” He scowled.
Wincing, I tiptoed around the issue. “Well, maybe we can rent one.” Then exasperated with his negativity—and myself for tolerating it—I confronted him. “Have you sent out the invitations yet?”
“Don’t you get it? If we lose the crop, we lose the vineyard.” His chair scraped as he stood. “I have too much at stake to waste time.”
“In case you forgot, we’re getting married in nine days.” So tense that my muscles quivered, I jumped to my feet. “Of course, if you think the wedding is ‘wasting time,’ maybe we should postpone it.”
His eyes flashed. “Maybe we should cancel it.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Not bothering to slip on his boots, he grabbed them and slammed out the door.
The wind knocked out of me, I sagged back into my chair.
The dog sidled alongside me, rubbing against my calves.
“Teddy, what’ve I done?”
The lights flickered.
“Great, now we’re going to lose electricity?”
The lights flickered again, went off, came on, then dimmed.
“A brownout?” As I stepped toward the kitchen, the lights went out, and the refrigerator stopped humming.
A musty odor filled the air as I searched for the matches. Mold? Mildew?
Teddy sneezed twice.
The stench of rotting teeth and mothballs permeated the cabin. My eyes began to itch, and I coughed as my fingers found the matches.
Lightning splintered in a white-hot flash outside the window, momentarily lighting the kitchen.
A shadow stirred before the room went dark.
Did I imagine that? The frigid darkness enveloped me, and I struck a match. My numb fingertips fumbled from one drawer to the next until finally, I connected with a candle.
A low growl began in the back of Teddy’s throat as a shadow crossed the room, and a freezing gust blew out the match.
Yelping, I tried to light another with trembling fingers. Despite my shaking hands, the flame finally took hold, and the candle’s faint glow showed my breath’s condensation.
A transparent silhouette emerged. Barely visible, it lifted a gauzy veil, revealing a scarred, wizened face, then glided across the cabin and through the bolted door.
Teddy lurched at the exit, barking and scratching.
Was that my imagination? No, Teddy saw it, too… My heart pounding, I tilted the candle over a saucer, then secured it in the melted wax. I searched the cabin in the scant light but found nothing odd, and embarrassed, I laughed at my fears. “Teddy, we’re jumping at our own shadows.”
The cell phone rang, and I flinched. Luke! “I’m so glad you called.”
“You are?” The warmth came through Cody’s voice. “Then I’m glad I followed my hunch.”
“What?”
“Gut instinct…something told me to call you.” His friendly tone changed to one of concern. “Are you all right?”
Though uncomfortable speaking with my ex, I was glad for the company. “It’s storming here. The lights went out, and I’m just a little jumpy.” I squinted. “But what do you mean ‘something’ told you to call me?”
“I don’t know. Call it intuition…a sixth sense. Something made me pick up the phone.”
After Luke’s rejection, the idea of anyone caring enough to call eased the ache. I took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.
“Okay, spill it.”
“What?”
“I recognize that groan. What’s wrong?”
Where do I start? “To begin with, the vineyard’s infested with leafhoppers, but because it’s raining, we can’t spray the pesticide. Worse, a hailstorm damaged the vines, which leaves them even more susceptible to Pierce’s Disease. I’m worried the crop will fail.” A lump caught in my throat.
“I’m sorry about the weather and hope the vines survive, but that’s not what’s troubling you, is it?”
Sitting at the table, I fought back tears. “Can’t fool you, can I?”
“Hey, we’ve been through a lot together. I know when something’s wrong.” His smile came through the phone line. “What’s really bothering you?”
It’s true. He knows me better than anyone—even Luke. Lapsing into familiar patterns, I summarized the fight and cancelled wedding. “Then just before you called, the storm knocked out the electricity, and I saw…I thought I saw…” I shook my head. “My imagination took off.” Talking about my fears lessened their grip, and I chuckled. “You probably think I’m crazy, but thanks for listening.”
“Hey, I’m happy to be your sounding board—or shoulder to cry on—whatever you need.”
I blinked. Was he always this considerate? No… “You’ve changed.”
“I’m sober.” His laugh was dry. “That’s the difference. Besides, my sponsor says helping others helps me stay sober, so anytime you need to talk, call me. You’ve got my new number. I’m always here for you—just a phone call away.”
The rain beat a steady patter against the windows, lending a somber backdrop as I hung up. More confused now than before, I glanced about the cabin’s gloomy interior. One candle doesn’t shed much light…either in here or on the situation. I twisted my engagement around my finger, studying it in the candlelight.
The door squeaked open, and I jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Luke crossed the room. “And I’m sorry for stomping off. The Pierce’s Disease, the hail, and now the rain have taken their toll.” He sighed. “But I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on you.” Holding out his arms, he moved a step closer. “If you’ll have me, do you still want to get married?”