Page 30 of Meet Me in the Vines
That was us in the driveway. Just two kids who never got the chance to love each other to the fullest. And god, I want that chance again.
“Damn. Does Dad know?”
Wyatt knows everything that went down between my dad and me on graduation night. He demanded I tell him what was going on when I started avoiding all family functions and hardly ever came home. I lived with Logan until I left for summer soccer training at UC Davis.
It took some time, but I finally realized that my distance wasn’t just a punishment for my dad—it hurt everyone impacted by the shrapnel of our blowout. I had promised Wyatt and Kerry a summer of brotherly bonding, and when I fell short, Wyatt was the one who held me accountable. So, I made a pact with my brothers that no matter what was happening between my dad and me, it wouldn’t take away from our time together. I started coming home from university once a month just to have our brother bonding time.
I wanted to live up to James and what an amazing big brother he was to us. I owed it to Wyatt and Kerry.
“Yeah, he knows. I mean, he’s not stupid. Violet just died, so I’m sure he can piece together that Audrey would come home for Noah,” I state very matter-of-fact. He nods, helping me load supplies for tonight in my truck.
“He’s trying, you know. He’s changed, Donovan. Give him a chance.”
Wyatt may be right, but my father and I have never seen eye to eye. Our relationship, although better than before, is still strained.
“I just need time, Wy,” I grumble, wanting this conversation to be over.
My brother stops loading the truck and turns to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. I sigh and give him my attention.
“You’ve had time, D. Don’t pull away. Not after James. He needs you.”
I remain stoic, clenching my jaw.
“All Dad did my whole life was compare me to James in everything. Sports, grades, manners, you name it,” I mutter, the frustration building in my tone. “Nothing I did was good enough for him, and after James died, he shut me out then fucked me over,” I huff out, breathing harder than I intended.
Wyatt props himself up on the tailgate of my truck and pats his hand on the space next to him. I remain standing and he rolls his eyes.
“You’re fucking stubborn, just like him. It’s called grief, D. And yes, I agree, what he made you do was fucked up. But Audrey is here now,” he says softly, making me wonder where my grumpy little brother went. “Time heals our grief, but that doesn’t mean we forget. I fucking miss him, too. I know he was your best friend…” His voice trails, not able to find the words.
He sits quietly, his eyes fixed on a stray cork on the ground. I slide into the space next to him and sling my arm over his shoulder.“You’remy best friend, Wy,” I say while pointing to his heart. He gives me a weak smile.
“I just don’t want our family to drift further apart. Please, Donovan. Make it right? Talk to Dad?”
When I look into his eyes, I see that little kid who looked at me like I’d hung the moon.
“Okay. For you.” I elbow him in the rib and kiss the top of his head.
“He’s hurting about Violet too, Donovan. We all are.”
He balls his hand into a fist and bops my knee, sliding off the tailgate to continue loading the truck. I look down at my work boots and ride out the wave of grief that hits me.
Violet’s death impacted our small town. She was the heartbeat, spreading goodness and joy to everyone who knew her. She and Noah were there for me when everything came crashing down with Audrey—and never once did they spite me for it.
I found out that Audrey left for New York two weeks after our night together, and every time I’d come home I’d visit Violet and Noah almost every day. I never told them what happened, but it didn’t matter to them. They gave me grace when I needed it. Being with them made me feel closer to her. I know when she left for New York as soon as she did, it was my doing.
During the five years my father was in business with Duke Taylor, I wanted nothing to do with it. So, when I graduated from school with a degree in viticulture and enology, I decided to work directly with Noah as his assistant winemaker at the Winthrop Family Winery. My father was disappointed, but he had no right to be upset.
The following year, shit hit the fan with Duke after his arrest. My dad pleaded with Noah to work together again and begged for his forgiveness. Noah said that there was nothing to forgive, because that’s the man Noah Winthrop is. He’s the most respectable person I know—steadfast and humble—and he brought my family back into his life with open arms.
I slide off the tailgate to help Wyatt with the final cases to load. We work in silence, and I glance up once in a while to look at my brother with admiration.
The best thing about this job is hands down working side by side with Wyatt. Tonight will be a testament to our hard work and the love that Noah and Violet literally poured into this wine. I’m honored that Wyatt and I had a part in it.
We harvested a fucking great batch of grapes in 2018, and now the town gets to have a taste of Violet’s Vintage. A wine that represents resilience, love, and family. A wine that I’m proud of. A wine for the angel and saint that she is: Violet Winthrop.
“What do you think, Jojo? You want it facing this way or on the other side?” Wyatt and I hold up the banner.
Winthrop Wine Happy Hour: In Loving Memory of Violet Winthrop 1945–2024
