Читать книгу The Prodigal Son - Beth Andrews - Страница 9

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you’ve been offered a job?”

Though the words were said quietly, almost conversationally, eighteen-year-old Matt Sheppard knew better than to let his father’s mild tone fool him.

He was in trouble.

What else was new?

But at least it would be for the last time. The last time he had to stand before Tom Sheppard, stiff as a soldier in front of a four-star general, waiting for some form of discipline—or worse, one of his dad’s long-winded lectures.

Matt forced his shoulders to relax. “I was offered a job at a winery in Napa.”

What he left out was that he’d applied for said job. And a dozen others. Anything to get as far away from his hometown of Jewell, Virginia, and, more importantly, the Diamond Dust—his father’s beloved winery.

Tom took off his reading glasses and set them aside before slowly leaning back in his chair. His eyes—the same green as Matt’s—narrowed on his youngest son. King of his domain, Matt thought snidely. Never did his dad feel more self-important than when he was sitting behind his huge, mahogany desk in his oppressive office with its dark woodwork and leather furniture. Matt’s mother, Diane, stood to her husband’s right, a hand on his shoulder.

They were, as always, a unit. One entity. Usually against him.

He tried not to fidget even though his dad stared at him as if trying to read his thoughts. They’d arrived home twenty minutes ago from Matt’s high-school graduation. And while he’d exchanged his dress clothes for his normal outfit of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, his mom still had on her sleeveless blue dress, her long, blond hair held back in a sparkly clip. His dad’s tie was loose, his shirtsleeves rolled up. His suit coat hung over the arm of one of the matching chairs behind Matt.

“You already have a job,” his dad finally said, the assumption being that because Matt was a Sheppard, he’d spend his last summer at the Diamond Dust before starting college. That he’d want to stay.

Matt flipped his hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. “Yeah, I do.” Though he wanted to look anywhere but at his father’s stern gaze, he met the old man’s eyes. “In Napa. I start in two days.”

“Oh, Matthew,” his mom said, sounding disappointed. He ground his back teeth together. Besides getting into trouble, he also excelled at disappointing his parents.

Was it any wonder he wanted to escape?

Tom straightened and leaned forward. “You accepted a job almost three thousand miles away without bothering to tell us about it first?”

“I’m eighteen,” Matt pointed out, unable to hide the defensiveness in his tone. “I don’t need your permission.” He swallowed but the lump in his throat remained. “When Brady was my age, he was already enlisted.”

“You’re not Brady,” Tom snapped.

Matt’s hands shook. He slid them into his front pockets. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not Brady. Or, better yet, Aidan. Right?”

“That’s enough,” his mother insisted, her voice shaking. “We don’t expect you to be like your brothers and we certainly don’t compare you to them, or them to you.”

Matt snorted. Maybe she didn’t, but he knew what his father thought of him. He didn’t measure up. Not to Tom’s high expectations and certainly not to either of his older brothers. Brady, a Marine, was serving their country overseas, and Aidan, the eldest Sheppard son was heading to law school. Brady was quiet, reserved and already engaged to his high school sweetheart, the gorgeous Liz Montgomery. Aidan was their father’s clone. Overbearing. Uptight. Controlling. He’d make one hell of a lawyer.

“You’ll go to California in the fall for school and not a day before,” his father said tightly. “In the meantime, you’ll work at the Diamond Dust. Discussion over.”

Matt balled his hands in his pockets. “I am taking the job and I am leaving tomorrow. But you’re right about one thing. This discussion is over. Sir,” he added, his tone snide enough to have his father slowly rising from his seat.

Diane laid a hand on her husband’s arm. Either in comfort or in an attempt to restrain him, Matt wasn’t sure. “How do you plan on getting to California?” she asked him. “Where will you live? You can’t move into the dorms until the end of the summer.”

“I’m flying out of Richmond tomorrow at noon. I already have my ticket. Paid for with my own money,” he added, before they could accuse him of using their cash for it. “And I’ll stay at the winery.” He slid a glance at his father. “The owner often takes on workers from the school.”

The school being the University of California Davis, which had one of the top viticulture and enology programs in the country. The school he’d busted his hump just to get in to. The school his father had claimed was a waste of time and money since he could teach Matt everything he needed to know about cultivating grapes and the science of making wine.

But that wasn’t enough for Matt. He wanted to know more than his dad. Go further. Be better.

“Now you listen to me, boyo, and you listen good,” Tom said in a soft, deadly tone as he laid both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “You’ll do as I say or—”

“Or what?” Matt asked, telling himself there was nothing his father could do to intimidate him. Hopefully. “You’ll ground me? Take away my truck? Go ahead. But you can’t stop me from going.”

His dad pushed away from the desk and stalked around it, his mouth a thin, angry line. Matt’s chest tightened and he took his hands from his pockets but he held his ground. It still amazed him that, no matter how larger than life his dad had always seemed, he wasn’t. In fact, since Matt’s final growth spurt last summer, he had a good two inches on his old man.

Too bad he still felt about three feet tall when his dad looked at him the way he did now.

“You really want away from Jewell that badly you can’t wait three months?” Tom asked, his hands on his hips.

“I want away from you that badly.”

“Matthew!” his mom cried.

But he didn’t turn away from his dad’s eyes, from the shock and hurt in them. For a moment, Matt debated taking his words back, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not when they were the truth.

And then, that hurt changed, turned into icy resolve. “You want to go off and be a big man? Fine. Go. But know this. If you walk out that door, you’ll get nothing from us. No money. No tuition. Nothing.”

“Wait a minute.” Diane hurried around the desk, her eyes wide and distressed. “This is getting out of hand. We all need to take a little time, calm down, then we can discuss—”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Tom said, not so much as glancing his wife’s way. “It’s past time this boy learned what a good thing he’s had here all these years. Maybe he’ll even grow up a little.”

Matt flashed hot then cold. His palms grew damp. All his plans for the future shifted. He’d have to work during school now. Get loans rather than count on his parents’ financial support. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for certain. But it’d be worth it.

He’d be on his own. Completely.

“I don’t need your money,” he told his father, proud of how rational, how mature, he sounded. “I don’t need you at all.”

Tom rocked back on his heels. “We’ll see what tune you’re singing in a few months when you’re paying your own way. You don’t realize what you’re throwing away. But you will.”

“I won’t change my mind,” he vowed, his hurt and anger giving his conviction the ring of truth. “And I won’t be back. Ever.”

“Matthew,” his mom whispered, “please don’t say that, honey. You know there will always be a place for you here. And at the Diamond Dust. This is your home.”

He waited. But his father didn’t agree with his wife. Didn’t say anything at all. Didn’t beg him to stay. Or take back his harsh words. He didn’t apologize for every time he’d made Matt feel less. Less than perfect. Less than his brothers. For all the times he’d made Matt wonder why his father couldn’t treat him like he did Aidan and Brady. Why he couldn’t love him the same way.

But his dad didn’t say anything. The only sound was that of his mom’s soft crying. Matt wanted to go to her, to hug her one last time. To tell her everything would be okay. But he couldn’t. He felt too close to tears himself.

Instead, he turned on his heel and brushed past his dad, fully intending never to see his parents, this house, or the Diamond Dust again. When he reached the door, Tom’s voice stopped him, his words causing a cold sweat to break out along Matt’s neck.

“You’ll come back,” his dad said, as if he were speaking a prophesy. “And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”