CHAPTER 16
“You have to let me feature this at my next tasting in the shop! It’s divine!” Meg sipped the burgundy red wine she was negotiating with Morgan.
Meg was the owner of Blooming Grounds, the town floral and coffee shop. She held several evening tasting events a month, where she featured local wines, brews, and spirits. It was quite the hit amongst the tourists and offered a sense of sophistication to the locals looking for something grander than the usual town offerings.
“Meg, it’s just for fun. I appreciate the offer, and your interest, but I just don’t think…”
Meg cut her off before she could sell herself short, again, “Don’t say it. It’s good enough, Morgan, it’s better than good enough. You have a little goldmine sitting here!”
Guy picked up the Bordeaux wine glass that held a fragrant red wine. He swirled the glass below his nose taking in the rich aroma before tasting a sample. He closed his eyes as the flavorful notes swirled in his mouth and danced on his tongue.
“Morgan, you made this?” She grinned and nodded, blushing at his enthusiasm, “Wow, it’s…it’s exquisite.” His choice of words and handling of his glass implied experience and understanding of wine.
“Isn’t it though?” Meg added. “It’s superb. One of the best I’ve sampled. I think she has a prize wine here, she just won’t believe me.”
“Look, I appreciate the compliment but it’s just…for fun. It wasn’t meant as anything but a hobby and it’s nice to have so I can share it with all of you!” Morgan defended.
She was flattered by their praise and appreciation of her wine, but they were her friends and liked her cider too. However, she wasn’t selling that either – they would like anything she put in front of them – that’s just who they were.
“Morgan, this really is sensational. There is something incredibly unique about it, not like anything I’ve had. It’s bold, full bodied like a cabernet, but it has a sweetness and light earthiness under the initial fruitiness. This is a pinot, but there is still something. I can’t put my finger on it though.” Guy swirled the burgundy liquid, and held it up to eye level, evaluating its content.
The silence surrounding him caught his attention directing his view from the wine to the dozen or so eyes pinned on him. Confusion rested in his expression briefly before recognizing the justification of their stares – he remembered something. Not sure what exactly, but he knew wine – fine wine – and this was it.
“Huh. Well…I guess I’m a wine drinker?” he joked, generating a round of excited laughter.
Doc Charles put his wine glass down and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning forward to speak as Guy’s doctor. “How ya feeling? Anything stick out? Any clear memories? Anxiety? Headache?” Morgan sat opposite Doc, to Guy’s right and at the edge of her seat with a hand resting on Guy’s leg. Anxiety was the word she chose to describe how she felt, but she kept it to herself and held her breath, waiting for Guy’s answer.
“No, nothing, feel fine. Can’t say I remember
anything specific – that just came out of nowhere – more like it’s just something I know
, rather than a memory returning, if that makes sense?”
Nodding his head, Doc leaned back in his chair, grabbing his wine as he went. He took on a relaxed state, clearly pleased with Guy’s moment of progress. “Good. That’s good. That just may be how it happens. It’ll just ease back in. My guess is wine is familiar to you.”
Lost in thought, Morgan loosened her grip on Guy’s leg and reminded herself to breathe. He didn’t remember everything, specifically. He didn’t remember who he was. A wave of guilt coursed through her when that brought her a sense of relief. She wasn’t ready to lose what she wasn’t even sure she had.
Guy smiled, turning to Morgan, “I suppose Doc’s right. This is familiar, and this wine is…is amazing. Like you.”
Morgan smiled. Warmed by his words, she found herself at a loss of her own.
“See, Morgan,” Meg interrupted with a pithy excitement, “Help me out here, Guy. This wine needs to be everywhere. I can guarantee offers from more than one broker!”
Morgan laughed, lightening the mood, hoping to distract from the subject at hand. “I appreciate the offer, once again, but I don’t know. Like I said, it’s just a hobby. Besides, if I sell it; there won’t be any for the wedding.”
“The wedding?” Meg questioned.
“My gift to you! Let’s go pick the year.” Morgan stood, ready to move on to the next conversation. Sure her friends meant well, and thought her wine was good enough
because they loved her. The rest of the world tended not to think such about her, and it was easier to just avoid disappointment by keeping her wine at Pinecrest.
The ladies excused themselves to the outbuilding that housed Morgan’s wine hobby so Megan could pick her wedding wine. The rest of the gang had broken off into different groups, spread out around the large deck, enjoying each other’s company and a cold beer.
“She’s really something else,” Guy offered, unsolicited. “She doesn’t see it though, does she?”
Without mention of her name, Chappy and Blake knew he was referring to Morgan by the love struck look in his eyes and genuine concern in his voice.
“She is,” Chappy answered a sharp edge in his expression. “That girl is a people pleaser, with a big heart that was broken in a devastating way. Her daddy is a good man, but she always felt like she had to prove herself to him – prove she could run this ranch as good or better than he did, like a man could.”
“He was hard on her?” Guy asked in surprise. Morgan had only spoken of her father in high regard so he was surprised by what he was hearing.
“No, no, boy, “Chappy corrected. “Her father thinks the world of her, thinks she can do anything. She’s his only daughter, only child, a real daddy’s girl. She has grown up a girl in a man’s world
, rejected by a man she deeply loved, for another man.”
Guy let out a deep sigh, “Brad.”
Nodding slowly, legs extended, ankles crossed, Blake spun his empty beer bottle in his hand. “Bingo. That bastard did a number on her. She got over him, but never over feeling like she wasn’t good enough. He comes to town, visits his family – with his wife and kids.”
“No fucking way. No wonder she feels that way,” Guy said.
“Right? I make sure I write him a ticket for something every time he comes through,” Blake grinned. “It’s the least I can do.”
Chappy patted Guy on the back, chuckling at Blake’s admission. “So, treat her right boy. Make sure she feels like more than enough.”
Leaning forward, elbows balanced on his knees and a steely smirk, Blake said, “Or I might write you a few tickets.”
A rare laugh began to escape Blake when his posture went upright and rigid. Jumping to his feet, he shouted, “Oh shit!”
Turning in the direction Blake’s shocked stare was locked; gasps of surprise and fear flooded the air at the sight of billowing smoke rising above one of the out buildings in the distance. The wine building – where Meg and Morgan were.
“Morgan!” Guy ran while his heart sank at the idea of Morgan in danger.
“Shit! Guy!” Blake looked to Sam and Lydia. “Get the kids inside. Lock the doors until it’s over.”
Chappy went to a stunned Lydia, helping her up from the chair she had fallen in. Her sister was in there.
Jessie ran by, on her cell phone, calling in for help, while the others rushed after Guy toward the fire. Blake hung back for a brief moment, paying homage to the eerie stir chilling his spine. It was happening again – after days of peace and quiet. He scanned his surroundings, taking in every detail, filing it away for later assessment, then quickly caught up to the group.
Screams of help could be heard as they reached the front of the metal building. The large sliding doors were locked tight and not budging. Working as a team, they used rope on each door, pulling with every ounce of strength they could muster up.
Heavy smoke was creeping out from under the doors, as well as the top, making it difficult to breath. The trapped women went silent sending the group into an adrenaline spiked panic.
“Morgan!” Guy screamed in desperation, praying she would reply. She didn’t.
The smoke increased, flowing with ominous force from the loft level sliders. “They’re shut! Those are always open! Why are they shut?!” Guy’s aching fear infiltrated the crowd.
There was no relief in the distant sound of sirens. There was no telling how long the fire had been burning, nor the exposure the two women endured thus far. Angry plumes of racing smoke painted a picture of despair that nearly crippled the continued rescue attempt.
“The side door!” Guy hollered in excitement referring to the single steel door on the right side of the building.
Colton, desperate to get to his bride to be, followed him in desperation, while the others continued to work where they started, using a tractor, attempting to pry the doors open. Their rope broke, so they resorted to rigging a chain instead.
Meanwhile, Guy approached the side of the building, immediately reaching for the door handle that was typically locked, as it was rarely used. As quickly as he grabbed the handle, he was pulling back his now burnt hand. The door, its handle, and exterior walls were scorching hot.
The fire must have started there. Life seldom played fair, but this was just a plain bitch. Guy wouldn’t settle for the cards being dealt when the stakes were so high and would cost him the one thing right in his life. The only thing giving him purpose right now and made him whole despite not knowing anything more about himself than just that.
That haunting sound fell on his ears and pulled him from present. He saw the same image of the rearing horse, felt the aching fear that nearly paralyzed him each time his memory of past collided with present. He heard it, the first bang as he was holding onto his frightened horse for dear life.
This time, the memory was clearer, felt real. He looked to his right, still trapped in the terrifying memory, and for the first time, the memory didn’t end there. No, this time it showed him the source of the bang and it came from the wooded area that traced the property. A flash of light accompanied the second bang – something of a bold bright spark. Gunfire.
As quickly as it flooded his mind, the flashback was over, and that’s exactly what it was, a flashback. Something real. A memory. A third bang pulled him to present, revealing the source of the obnoxious sound – it was him.
He was kicking in the steel door, one, two, three times to no avail. A brawny force pulled him from his desperate duty with a fight as great as his own. Colton had his arms around Guy, pulling him out of the way, giving Dunny access to the door with his large collection of keys.
Where the fuck did he come from? Before his thought could be reconciled, the battered door was open and Dunny stood to the side, barely escaping the rush of flames that crowded the door, blocking the entrance.
“We got it open!” Dunny shouted, alerting the others, arms crossing their faces, shielding from the smoke as they coughed through the overwhelming smoke.
Guy pulled his shirt over his head, wrapping it around his forearm, and then dousing it in the nearby water collection tank. With the wet t-shirt shielding his lead arm and face, he charged through the flames followed by Colton. They could hear their names being yelled by the gang rounding the building from the front to the side.
A trained fire fighter, Colton said, “Keep a hand on my shoulder, I’ll lead. We stay together and find our women together. Got it? I won’t come looking for you. I’m looking for them!”
Nodding, Guy understood the need to stay together and did as he was told. They forged through the flames that quickly narrowed as they got further from the door. The smoke, however, remained thick, leaving little to no visibility to see, and no air to breathe.
After only moments in the smoke-filled place, Guy found it hard to push on. The smoke was heavy, robbing him of mental clarity, leaving him weak and winded. What did that mean for Morgan? She had been in here far longer than he.
He pushed down the fear, said a prayer, and bet on their love. He called out to her over and over despite the burn in his lungs. A faint sound could be heard in the nearby distance. The closer they got, the more clear the raspy sound. Morgan.
Both men lowered to the ground, crawling toward her fading voice, until they finally reached her, sitting up against the racks of wine with Meg lying in her lap with a wet cloth over her face, held by Morgan.
Relief washed over the men, quickly followed by panic. Morgan was coherent, but fading fast, fighting the undertaking the thick smoke was attempting.
“She’s okay,” she said, referring to a semi-unconscious Meg. “She is breathing, has a pulse, get her out of here, quick!”
Without hesitation, Colton followed Morgan’s directions and scooped up Meg.
“Grab her,” Colton said, tilting his head toward Morgan, “Let’s get out of here – stay on my shoulder.”
Guy reached for Morgan just as her head fell. She’d managed to stay alert just long enough for her friend before succumbing to the smoke, unable to fight anymore.
“Morgan! Stay with me, baby! Stay with me!” Guy shouted, sweeping her up in his arms. Placing his damp shirt over her face, he prayed it would filter the air long enough to get her out of the raging hell they found themselves in.
Shoulder to shoulder with Colton, they retraced their path, or so they hoped, in an effort to escape. Colton began shouting the word out
, eventually hearing the word here
in response. They were finding their way out by following the voice as well as revealing their location. Like an intense game of life or death, Marco Polo
. The last few feet only took minutes to beat, but felt like hours. Morgan wasn’t responding and Guy couldn’t tell if she was still breathing.
“We’re almost there, honey. Keep breathing. I’m getting you out of here,” he continued, his voice full of fear. “Stay with me, I need you.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck as they approached the raging flames at the door they had entered and now attempted to exit. He whispered one last sentiment before breaking through the fire laden doorway. “Be okay, Morgie, be okay. I love you.”
They were met by waiting paramedics and firefighters heading in with their hoses attached to the hydrant like water source on the Pinecrest property. Though off duty, Carigan and Dawson jumped in, checking Colton and Guy over while the on-duty medics went to work on Morgan and Meg.
Doc Charles followed both ambulances to the hospital where he would oversee the care of Morgan and Meg who were both fighting their injuries.
“Where did you come from, Haines?” Blake’s tone was full of threatening accusations. He didn’t care what message he was sending.
“Wha-what do you mean?” Stuttered words and fidgeting eyes weren’t missed by Blake. Dunny was hiding something.
“You know what I mean. You left the party hours ago – pissed off, I might add. Then you happen to show up, with your keys? I’ll ask you again. Where did you fucking come from?” Dunny stood in shock, appalled by Blake’s unspoken accusation.
“I fucking saved them, Blake. Nobody was getting in there if I hadn’t shown up.”
Fury crossed Blake’s face, his body pale and tense as if preparing for a fight. “You don’t think that’s convenient? How many times have we been lucky
you were there when shit has gone down now?”
Stepping forward with white knuckled fists clenched, Dunny was toe to toe with Blake when he turned his baseball cap around so he could get in his face. “Say it Blake. Say whatever it is you’re trying to say.”
A devilish smirk landed on Blake’s unimpressed face, challenge accepted. “I think it’s interesting, Duncan
, that you just happen
to appear at that right
moment every single time shit goes bad. I mean, how’s that for coincidence?”
“Fuck you, Blake. You think I did this? This is my home and I would never
hurt Morgan!”
“Ehh,” Blake shrugged his shoulder, tilting his head to one side while offering an unconvincing expression, “Maybe not intentionally.”
Eyes pinched in a death glare, Dunny clinched his teeth, jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about. Some asshole that nobody knows…hell, that doesn’t even know himself… shows up here and it’s me
that you think starts random shit around here? You’re really not as good at this shit as you seem to think.”
“Nah, that asshole
has been the star of Morgan’s show since he arrived and that pisses you
off. Do I have that wrong too? You’re back a day and here we are – a fire? The only one I see storming off before shit hits the fan is you – only to return, trying to save Morgan’s day, only…” Seething anger shifting to mischievous provocation, Blake delivered low blows to instigate the reaction he was looking for, “it was still Guy
saving the day, not you. How does that make you feel, now
?”
“Are you kidding me? You think he’s the hero?” Disbelief in his tone, he laughed and puffed out his chest. “I’m
the one fixing everything! I had the keys to get in this fucking building! I’m the one that…”
Bingo. Blake’s attempt to get under Dunny’s skin was working, he was starting to talk, crack under pressure, he was about to tell Blake everything he needed to arrest his ass. “The one that what?”
Relaxing in his stance, Dunny let out a deep breath and subtle chuckle. “I see what you’re doing here, it won’t work. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the hospital and check on Morgan.”
With one last opportunity to get under Dunny’s skin, and drive out an ounce of truth so he could put an end to the debauchery that was Dunny, Blake went for the kill shot. “I wouldn’t bother. She has Guy. Small rooms, third wheel and all…”
Blake walked off, leaving Dunny with the final knife in his back. If Dunny was behind this, which Blake wasn’t entirely certain he was, the truth would fester its way to the surface eventually. He now had an official investigation to assist in, and friends to check on. Whatever this was, it was coming to a head and he was anxious to put it behind them.
There was a wedding at Pinecrest in just a few weeks, and he’d be damned if any of this interfered. He had his work cut out for him.