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Then he stalked through the kitchen toward the office.
Pippa followed him.
Iris stood there for just a moment. Then she pushed away from the table, walked to the entry way, pulled on a jacket, shoved her feet into boots, and stormed outside.
Ready to run away from home.
* * *
So,that might have been the most exciting family breakfast he’d ever attended.
Hudson pushed away from the table, stood. Looked at Iris’s parents, nodded. “So, thank you for breakfast. I think maybe I should—”
“Go,” her father said. “By the way, we’re not always this lively.”
“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t. I just have my brother and my parents. My dad is a cowboy, and the most he says at dinner ispass the potatoes, so this was…well, at least we know Fraser cares.”
Garrett gave him a half smile. “Yes, he does. I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but thanks for watching over our daughter, Hud. I truly believe that God put you exactly where you needed to be, at the right time to help keep her safe.”
Oh. Well, maybe. Because given the theories at the table, maybe he wasn’t to blame for the assassination attempt.
And they’d kept each other alive in the cave, so maybe.
But, “I don’t know, Garrett. God hasn’t exactly been present in my life, so—”
“God has always been present in your life, Hudson. You just don’t realize that he’s in every breath you take, every beat of your heart. He is ground under your feet and the air you breathe. And most of all, he’s the one that put the love for our daughter in your heart.”
He didn’t bother to deny the last. Instead, he got up. Pointed at the door.
Garrett nodded and Hud headed to the entryway, grabbed his jacket and shoes—no boots for him—and headed outside.
Cool air, crisp and quiet with the falling snow. He liked it here—reminded him in a way of Montana. The sky hung low and gray, the trees dusted with white. Tracks led to the big red barn with the wordsMarshall Fields Winery.
He followed them and found the big glass door to the building unlocked. He let himself in.
The smell of must swept over him, a little heady as he stepped onto the cement floor. The place held a number of large stainless steel tanks to one side and rows and rows of oak barrels on racks on the other. At one end, hoses ran from smaller stainless steel tanks, and a forklift sat, quiet, in the middle of the room.
“Iris?”
His voice lifted, but the vastness of the room swallowed it. He looked down and realized that her wet boots had tracked in moisture. A little Gretel trail.
He found her in a separate room, sealed off from the main winery. It held a long wooden table surrounded by leather-backed chairs, and on the wall, pictures of her family, of the winery, the accomplishments of the Marshall family. Iris stood, arms folded, looking at the wall.
“This is quite the place,” he said.
“My grandfather started it. Actually, he grew corn and started with a small patch of vines. Used to make his own wine. Dad was into computer programming, but when Grandma got sick, he came home and started farming. It was his idea to start the first rows of vines. The rest is history. He loves the winery. I actually think he sings to the vines.”
“My dad sings to his horse.”
She looked at him.
“He’s a day-laborer cowboy for a ranch in Montana. We actually used to have a cattle station in the outback. It had been in the family for generations, and then my dad took it over and, well, it was tough. He’s a good man. Hard worker. But he wasn’t cut out to be a rancher, and then my mom got sick, and it drained everything they had. He just sort of quit life, and we moved to Melbourne and stayed for months with my mother while she went in for treatment. He lost the station. When she went into remission, we moved to America. I was ten. I missed the cattle station and hated everything, and then I found football. It just felt good to belong to a team, and I was good at it, so…” He shrugged. “I put everything I had into it. Everything I have. It’s all I am.” He looked at her. “Sorry. I came out here to talk about you.”
“I’m sorry about your mom. And for the crazy that happened in there.” She looked away. “Fraser’s right, you know.”
Not what he’d expected to hear, honestly.
She pointed to a picture, the color faded, of the family together, dressed in swimsuits, all of them young and grinning. “This is a picture of when we went rafting down a river near us. It’s a little dangerous, and we all tied our tubes together. Mine was in the middle. I kept trying to untie, to go down alone, but Fraser and Jonas wouldn’t let me.”
