Bittersweet Read online

  Bittersweet

  Jacquie Underdown

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Bittersweet

  Jacquie Underdown

  A vineyard, a family in pain, and the healing magic of cupcakes. . .

  Amy Jenkins, a talented and ambitious chef, is left humiliated and debt-ridden after her city restaurant fails. When her best friend calls asking for help in her small-town cupcake shop, Amy jumps at the chance to hide out in the small town of Alpine Ridge while her shattered ego mends.

  The youngest Mathews brother, Tom feels overlooked and underappreciated. His brothers remember every mistake, but never give him the responsibility or opportunity to take his place in the family business. So, he spends three weeks out of every month working at a mine in the back-end of nowhere. But then Amy moves to town to help run his pregnant sister-in-law’s bakery, and suddenly home seems to be where his heart is.

  Amy’s move was only ever meant to be temporary, but when tragedy strikes the Mathews family, Amy finds herself unable to move on. As she and Tom get closer, Amy finds every excuse to stay: first, she claims it’s for the family, then she claims it’s for the shop. But maybe, it’s for her own heart. . .

  About the author

  Jacquie lives in Central Queensland, Australia, where it's always hot and humidity constantly coats the skin, summer or winter. After her profession as an accountant almost killed her (with mind-numbing boredom), she is on permanent hiatus. She now spends her time wrapped up in her imagination, creating characters, exploring alternative realities, and falling in love with a host of mouth-watering heroes who occupy her mind at first, then eventually her books. Jacquie has a business degree, has studied post-graduate writing, editing and publishing at The University of Queensland and earned a Master of Letters from Central Queensland University. But all that means is that she's super-dedicated to writing the best books she can for readers to enjoy.

  Acknowledgements

  With each book, there are so many people who contribute in many different ways, and I value each and everyone’s input and support. First and foremost, I would like to thank Kate Cuthbert for your continued guidance and belief. Also, a big hand to the Escape team and associated professional staff for taking this book from its raw state through to publication.

  Thank you, Nicola Beshaw, for taking my research questions to the right people. I would also like to acknowledge Cian Klinkenberb for answering all my questions in regards to pre-eclampsia and treating premature babies. If I have got anything wrong, I accept full responsibility.

  Brooke Moody, your attention to detail during the editing phase is always valued. Thank you.

  Brad, my wonderful husband, I couldn’t do this without you. Never once do you tell me to give up even when I complain that I really, really want to.

  For Nicola.

  You have filled my mind with so many happy childhood memories.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

  Chapter 1

  Amy Jenkins couldn’t get away from Alpine Ridge fast enough. She pressed her foot to the floor, urging the old rust bucket ahead. The engine groaned.

  No way was this car sturdy enough to make it the three-hour drive to Melbourne, but she was out of options.

  A trail of dust skirted behind her as she raced along the gravel track. The autumn colours of the vineyard, seen through the windscreen, were blurring together behind a watery film of tears.

  A sob broke from her throat, and she slammed her palm against the steering wheel. Everything that meant anything to her was lost. Nothing existed inside. She owned nothing. Her dreams were shattered. Every constructed part of her identity had been picked away until she was left gaping and raw.

  Shoulders slumping, Amy pressed a hand to her chest, trying to ease the dull ache. She sought an anchor to cling to but found nothing, no-one to hold her up, not even a sense of self. Her heart thudded out a staccato beat as that little nugget of misery dawned on her.

  Where did she go now that she’d reached the end?

  How did she find the sunshine from the darkness of rock bottom?

  She shook. Tears stole her vision. If she didn’t pull over right now, she would crash, so she eased the car to the side of the track and cut the engine. She dropped her head against the steering wheel and fell apart.

  Amy Jenkins, who had lived every day for the last twenty-nine years, died at that moment. The world she had built crumbled around her shoulders.

  An engine roared in the distance. She wiped at her face and glanced up into the rearview mirror. The glinting metal of a car was speeding down the hill. She turned the key in the ignition, but the engine let out a tired series of gasps rather than the rumble she was hoping for. Damn it!

  She twisted the key again and sputtering grunts and clicks sounded. A glance out the windscreen revealed another car heading towards her. The car behind came to a stop, gravel and sticks crunching under the tyres.

  Ahead, the ute skidded to a halt metres from where she sat. Amy’s good sense begged her not to look at the man in the driver’s seat—it would only hurt her all the more to do so, but she had no choice, this stupid car wasn’t letting her go anywhere.

  The door flung open and Tom climbed out. His jaw was set. His neck was straining. When he faced her and met her gaze through the windscreen, his shoulders relaxed and relief overcame his features for a few heartbeats. Enough time for yearning to throb through her body, sinking deep into her bones. Tom.

  He looked past her to the car behind and glowered. The image in the mirror reflected Mitch climbing from his car. A fierceness overcame Tom’s stance, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his side as he stormed towards Mitch.

  Oh no no no!

  Amy yanked the handle, thrust the door open and scrambled out. ‘Tom!’ she yelled, but he didn’t acknowledge her, his long, determined steps not faltering for a second. She rushed after him, not knowing what she could do to stop him, but she needed to be nearby, just in case.

  Tom charged at Mitch and shoved him in the chest. Mitch stumbled backwards but regained his balance.

  ‘You …’ growled Tom, palms colliding with Mitch’s chest again. The height difference was never more obvious as Tom loomed over his brother, but Mitch was more solid, even with the weight he had lost over the last few months, and he managed to keep his footing.

  Tom pressed closer until he was face to face with his brother. ‘No more interfering in my life. It ends now!’

  Mitch held his hands up. ‘Let me talk first.’

  ‘No. You listen to me.’ Tom raised his fist. He slammed it like a hard rock into Mitch’s jaw. A sickening smack sounded. Mitch’s head flung to the side, and he stumbled backwards.

  Amy screamed, ‘Tom! No.’

&nb
sp; Tom pressed closer, poised to strike again.

  ‘No, Tom. Don’t. Don’t.’

  Tom thumped Mitch again. The revolting crack curled in Amy’s stomach like rancid food. If Mitch hadn’t defended himself yet, he wasn’t going to. He was going to take the blows until his brother’s fire was out. Amy’s heartrate ratcheted because she was unsure how long that would take.

  She sprinted, screaming, ‘Stop it! Tom, please, stop.’ She grabbed Tom’s arm. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flared.

  Mitch’s face was blotchy red. An open gash on his cheek leaked blood down his face and neck.

  Tom glared at Mitch, his jaw tight, but when Amy trailed her fingers down his rigid arm, desperate to diffuse his anger, he turned and met her pleading gaze. With each deep breath, his tensed muscles eased and face relaxed. He dropped his hands to his side and sighed.

  Tom. Thank God.

  But a different determination crept into his stance and expression. Before she could decipher what it meant, he squatted, gripped Amy by the waist and hoisted her up in the air. He threw her over his shoulder and marched to his ute.

  She punched his back, but it was useless, he didn’t even register her fists. She hadn’t the power to compete with his size and strength.

  ‘Let me down,’ she yelled.

  He opened the passenger side door and bundled her into the car. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Your home is here … with me.’ He shut the door and marched around to the driver’s side.

  Mitch jogged over. ‘Wait. Let me talk.’

  Tom hesitated, looked up at his brother, and his shoulders rolled inwards. Despite the anger radiating from him moments earlier, Tom was obviously broken.

  How did they all get to this point? How could all their lives unravel so fast?

  Chapter 2

  Four months earlier

  Amy sat on the edge of the lounge chair, head in her hands. The dense whirling of thoughts in her mind, spinning and spinning, ad infinitum, gave the phone the presence of an intrusive neighbour banging on the door. The ringtone strummed on her nerves like the callused pads of fingertips, made her teeth ache.

  The phone stopped, and she sighed. She could go back to thinking. Thinking, she could handle. Anything else …

  But as soon as the phone quieted, it rang again. Amy lifted her face from her hands and looked at her mobile dancing across the discoloured timber top of the coffee table. Her best friend’s face flashed on the screen. Rachel’s song, the one she’d chosen for her, reverberated through the small apartment. Amy watched until the screen went black.

  Silence.

  Then, sure enough, Rachel’s face lit up the screen again. One missed call—nothing to worry about. Two in a row hinted at importance. But three, one after the other, meant urgency and that realisation nestled in Amy’s belly like a sinking bag of bricks.

  She lurched forward, grabbed the phone and held it to her ear. ‘Hello.’ Her voice was gritty to her own ears.

  ‘Amy. It’s Rachel.’

  Amy’s pulse quickened. Her friend’s voice was different. Flustered. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Actually, no. I’m in hospital at the moment. There're some complications with the pregnancy.’

  A buoyant dizziness ballooned in Amy’s head. Her heart thundered. ‘What? Is … are you … is the baby …?’

  ‘I’m fine. The baby’s fine. The doctors have it under control.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Which hospital?’

  ‘It’s my blood pressure. It’s too high. But they’re managing it. They’ve transferred me to Melbourne in case the baby needs to be delivered early. There’s a care unit here …’

  Her voice cracked, and she stopped.

  Amy squeezed the bridge of her nose and sighed. ‘So, it’s serious?’

  ‘It can be. They’ve got me on medication that seems to be working.’

  ‘I’m coming to see you right now. Is Mitch there?’

  ‘Yes. He’s here. You don’t have to visit if you’ve got work.’

  Just hearing that word work made her guts clench. But there were more important things at play here than how she felt. ‘I’ll be there in an hour. Text me through your ward number.’

  ‘Thanks, Amy. I can’t wait to see you.’

  ‘You too. See you soon.’

  Amy hung up with a sigh. She marched to the kitchen to plug her phone in to charge. As she connected the cord, she noticed her shaking hands. Her heart was still racing.

  Rachel was her best friend. If anything happened to her baby …

  No. She couldn’t think like that. She owed it to Rachel to be positive. The hospital in Melbourne was second to none; Rachel and the baby would be in the best of hands.

  Holding a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers, Amy paced through the hospital ward. She poked her head into Rachel’s room. She was in bed, dressed in a nightie, her rounded belly protruding from under a white sheet.

  At Christmas time, when Amy had seen Rachel last, she was five months pregnant. Barely showing. The change in Rachel’s body in the short two months was surprising.

  Mitch, her husband, was sitting in the chair beside the metal-framed bed, his hand on Rachel’s stomach. They were in quiet discussion. Amy hesitated in the doorway, but they both turned their heads to face her.

  Rachel’s face lit up with a smile. If this were a dire situation, Rachel wouldn’t be smiling so easily, surely? Amy smiled back, too familiar with how a well-constructed veneer could hide truer emotions.

  ‘Amy.’ The cheery warmth in Rachel’s voice helped soothe the knot in her belly.

  Amy moved to the bed and kissed her friend on the cheek. ‘Hi, Rach. It’s so good to see you.’

  Rachel grinned. ‘It is.’

  ‘I bought these for you,’ Amy said nodding to the flowers and chocolates in her hand.

  The colourful arrangement of yellow, fluffy billy buttons mingled with taut strands of green foliage brought pleasure to Rachel’s face. ‘Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. They’re beautiful.’

  ‘Here, let me take those,’ Mitch said, standing.

  Amy went to him and was dwarfed by his enormous height and breadth. His usually shaven jaw was covered with rich brown stubble and prickled against her lips as she reached high onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. ‘Good to see you, Mitch.’

  ‘You too,’ he said taking the presents from her.

  Mitch found an empty vase and set about dealing with the flowers. Amy sat on the side of the bed. Despite the brassy hospital lighting, Rachel looked stunning with her long brown hair falling around her shoulders and brown eyes shining.

  Amy took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Everything okay?’

  Rachel nodded and stroked her stomach with her free hand. ‘It is now. We were scared for a little while there, weren’t we?’ she said, voice cracking and eyes glossing as she turned to Mitch.

  Mitch nodded and sat in the chair beside them. ‘A little scared. But you’re both in good hands now.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘You should have seen me. I swelled up like a bloody toad.’

  Amy giggled as the image of that appeared in her mind. ‘Because of your blood pressure?’

  ‘Pre-eclampsia. I didn’t even know what it was until last night.’

  ‘But they’re treating it?’

  Rachel hesitated, shared a glance with Mitch. ‘They’re managing it.’

  Amy nodded slowly. ‘And what does that mean?’

  A brave, shaky smile curled Rachel’s lips. ‘It means they may have to give me a caesarean early if conditions become worse. And because I’m only thirty-two weeks …’ She stopped and lowered her eyes to her stomach.

  Amy squeezed her hand a little harder and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Her next deep breath inwards was for courage as well as much needed air.

  ‘There're some risks involved with that, but everything will be fine,’ Mitch said, straining a smile.

  ‘The doctors here know what they�
��re doing and will take fantastic care of you both.’ Amy’s enthusiastic nod and confident, albeit shaky, smile hopefully conveyed reassurance.

  When Rachel looked up, her eyes were red. ‘Yeah. I know. It’s just a little scary. And then there're all these crazy hormones in my body making me feel.’

  Amy giggled. ‘Blerg! Feelings. Who needs those, right?’

  ‘That’s what I say. And pregnancy sends them into overdrive. I cried during The Block. The bloody Block because a contestant didn’t have a delivery turn up on time.’

  Mitch rolled his eyes as he chuckled. ‘That’s what I’m dealing with.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Terrible. Ghastly.’

  ‘I know, right? And now I’ve got to spend the next couple of months in here with nothing but daytime television and glossy magazines. I’ll be crying non-stop, in between being bored out of my brain.’

  Mitch stood, commanding her attention—the sheer size and ridiculously good looks of this man always managed to do that.

  When he and his two brothers were all together, it was even worse, as though she was a marionette, strings rotating her head until the three brothers were her sole focus. She dared any woman not to be mesmerised by their overwhelming presence.

  Perhaps there was something in that wine they produced at the vineyard they owned, or maybe even the clean Victorian highland air. ‘I’m going to buy a coffee. You want one, Amy?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘What about you, babe? You need anything? A green tea?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘I’m fine too.’

  He smiled as he leaned over and kissed Rachel on the cheek. ‘I’ll take my time and let you two catch up.’

  When he left the room, Rachel sighed. ‘It’s so good to see you. How’s it all going?’

  Sharp emotions stirred inside, and Amy’s muscles tightened.

  Rachel frowned. ‘Oh no, what happened?’

  Amy shook her head and planted a fake smile on her face even though Rachel would see right through it. She always did.

  ‘Amy? The restaurant?’

  Amy nodded. No words, though, lest the ache in her throat and warm prickle in the back of her eyes transpired as pesky tears. Rachel was who was important now, not the damn stupid restaurant.