I went back to the house to shower and join them at the winemaking facility where José was overseeing the equipment usage. I was bone weary, but there was no way I was going to leave the men out there to work without me. I could sleep later. And maybe, while I was working, something would come to me regarding a way to win my wife back. Because Lord knew, I had no idea what to do right now other than falling to my knees and begging for her forgiveness.
After showering, I went down to the kitchen and started brewing a pot of coffee. I flicked on the television while I waited and froze when I saw Cooper Stratton's face on the screen. Grabbing the remote off the counter, I fumbled with it as I attempted to turn up the volume. The newscaster was mid-sentence once I'd finally succeeded.
". . . seems this shocking video was shot by a call girl who taped Judge Cooper Stratton in a hotel room at The Palace Hotel during a black tie charity dinner held two nights ago. The hidden camera caught an allegedly intoxicated Judge Stratton bragging about accepting bribes, manipulating case outcomes, and other highly corrupt activities. An investigation has just begun and details are still emerging in this case, but Judge Stratton also boasted of his alliance with former San Francisco Mayor Frank Dallaire several times in the video, claims that Mr. Dallaire is vehemently denying at this time. Some might recall Cooper Stratton’s former engagement to Mayor Dallaire's daughter, Kira Dallaire, an engagement that ended in a scandal of its own." Shock ratcheted through my system and I braced my hands on the counter in front of me to hold myself up. The newscaster continued, "This story highlights the public's deep concern about corruption in politics. As voters and citizens, we'd all like to believe those in positions of power don't trade influence, but this case seems to be bringing those suspicions to the forefront of today's political discussion. Let's show that video one more time."
The video started from the viewpoint of someone sitting on top of Cooper Stratton as he lay on a bed, outfitted in a tuxedo. He was laughing as he discussed precisely what the newscaster had said. My whole body tensed, fierce anger and stark disbelief clenching my gut as I listened to him discuss the way in which he'd casually ruined lives, first as a prosecutor and now as a judge. No wonder Frank Dallaire had been so willing to protect him when Kira had caught him with hookers. He'd been doing dirty work for him for years. And she hadn't had any clue. I swallowed, focusing back in on the video. The girl wearing the camera giggled and spurred him on, stroking his ego by telling him how much his power turned her on. When she leaned forward slightly to undo his bow tie, I caught a glimpse of the ends of her hair swinging forward. It was pink. I shook my head back and forth. It couldn't be. I squinted my eyes as the person wearing the video camera excused herself to use the restroom and then the grainy picture cut to her walking briskly through what looked like a black tie gala. There was laughter, chatter and dishes clattering in the background, and as I moved even closer to the television, I saw a guest in the background wearing a tux, and it was only in profile, but it looked suspiciously like Harley. And . . . holy fuck, I recognized someone else at that gala. She was just in profile as well, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was my stepmother, Jessica Hawthorn. What the hell was going on?
"Charlotte!" I yelled, remembering suddenly she was at the hospital. "Holy fuck." José didn't answer his phone and so I rushed down to the vineyard where I quickly informed him I'd be back as soon as possible.
"Got it under control, boss," he called in return. I was already halfway out the door. I ran to the house and threw a few things in a bag and got in my truck, driving out through the gate. Jesus Christ. How had this happened? My mind was racing a million miles a minute. Kira. Kira was behind this. I wanted to shake her and then crush her to me and never let go. The little witch had cooked this up. I knew she had. Sweet little beautiful witch. She could have placed herself in danger. Was that why she’d been with Cooper here in Napa? I'd treated her so cruelly that day. She'd done this to help me, to help us, just as Harley and Priscilla had—I knew it in my gut and I trusted.
But I still needed answers. Questions pounded in my brain, one after the other. And I knew where I needed to go to get them.
As I drove, visions of Kira ran through my mind: turning to me in our bed, the morning light hitting her face as her sleepy, green eyes opened, her lips turning up in a soft smile as she reached for me. I saw her holding Sugie in her arms. "She needs love more than anything," she'd told Vanessa. "The only thing that will hurt her is holding it back." I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, and an intense ache filled my chest. I saw her jumping down from that tree, standing on the tractor in a ballerina pose, sliding down the bannister, a look of unabashed joy on her face. And yes, she’d most definitely won that day. I saw her walking toward me in the maze reaching out her hand. That night, under the moonlight, she had saved me. And when it came time, I hadn't been strong enough to save her back. I let out a deep exhale, the visions flowing through my mind, through my heart. I pictured her kneeling in front of me on the floor of the wine cellar, a look of tenderness and love on her face. "If you let it, pain makes more space for love within you. And the love we carry inside makes us strong when nothing else can." Jesus. That's exactly what she'd done. She'd taken all those empty spaces inside her and filled them with love. And when the worst had happened, I had been too stupid, afraid, and filled with self-doubt to allow her to teach me how to do that, too.