Fire in the Vineyard

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “She may change her mind,” Janice said. “I know that Nora wants to stay, she said so. We’ll have to convince Juanita, but she’ll need time to sort everything out. For the moment, they’re staying with her sister.”

  Robert nodded. “I offered Juanita a job, taking care of some of the paperwork for the estate. I bet Ken and Matt would appreciate the help. And I really think they need the money. We’ll see.” He got up.

  “I need to get away to clear my mind. I think I’ll take a drive down to San Luis Obispo to visit Angelo and Miriam. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “Sounds good,” Janice said. “Why don’t you invite them and Sandro for dinner on Sunday?”

  “Okay, I will.” Robert got up.

  “Drive carefully. And don’t come home too late.” Her voice sounded concerned.

  Robert gave her a questioning look. “Do I look that bad? Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

  Janice gave him a hug and went back to the house. Robert walked to driveway where his Jeep was parked.

  Chapter 40

  Robert drove south toward San Luis Obispo where Uncle Angelo lived with his wife Miriam and their adopted son, Sandro. Robert parked his car and walked up to his uncle’s home, a modest house with a beautiful, well-kept garden in a quiet residential area of the city.

  Uncle Angelo opened the front door, stepped onto the patio, and waved at Robert. He was in his sixties, of medium height with a trim body, unruly black hair streaked with gray, and penetrating black eyes. Like Robert he had inherited his looks from the Italian side of their family.

  “Well, well, stranger,” he greeted Robert with his deep gravelly voice.

  Robert gave him a hug. “I know it’s been much too long, but here I am.”

  Uncle Angelo waved at the garden chairs on the patio and Robert sat down. Miriam, Angelo’s wife, came outside. She was an attractive, tall and slim woman with short blond hair and blue eyes. She was quite a bit younger than Angelo, in her forties. After greeting him, she left to pick up Sandro from school. Angelo brought out two glasses of lemonade and they sat quietly for a while. Robert let his eyes wander over the colorful summer bloom in Miriam’s garden. Gardening was one of her passions, as Angelo told him. For the first time that day, Robert was able to relax a little, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the calm that exuded from his uncle.

  Robert took a deep breath. “How is Sandro doing?”

  “Really well,” Angelo said, taking a sip of lemonade. “He gets good grades in school, loves it, and wants to become a soccer star and a professional guitar player and singer.” Angelo chuckled.

  “Wow, quite ambitious, the little guy,” Robert said.

  “Tell me about it,” Angelo said, then faced Robert with his black, intensive eyes. He cleared his throat. “So, what’s going on with you? You guys have had quite some upheavals.”

  “You can say that again.” Robert’s mood, which had improved in the joyful environment, plunged again. “Angelo, I feel like a complete failure.” He propped his elbows on his knees and put his face into his hands.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Well, you know what happened with Romero, right?”

  “Yes, Martin filled me in,” Angelo said.

  Robert told him how he felt guilty not having been more in touch with his family and friends, that he was so focused on his work he didn’t even notice the heartache and trouble people close to him experienced.

  “Why hadn’t I become aware of Romero’s problems? I attributed his increasingly gloomy demeanor to his worrying about Nora. He grew distant, kept making excuses why he didn’t want us to get together after work, which we used to do before all the time. I often wanted to ask him why, but I never did. Now, it’s too late.”

  Robert rubbed his forehead. “Had I known that Romero was struggling with an addiction to gambling and needed money, I may have prevented the worst from happening.”

  Angelo put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Robert, you’re too used to being in control. Romero isn’t your fault. He suffered from an addiction and he was too proud to admit his illness. So, he ended up stealing from you instead of asking for help. You cannot help someone who doesn’t know or admit they need help. I know all about that. Remember how many times your father, and even you, offered to help me when I was in trouble many years ago? I was too proud to even consider that I was in trouble.”

  “Still, people close to you offered to help you. I didn’t even realize that people close to me needed help,” Robert said. “There were things going on in my family that everybody knew about, except for me. I’m sure you heard about Matthew’s paternity issue.”

  Angelo nodded. “Yes. Janice told Miriam.”

  “See, I didn’t even know about it until Lauer, the investigator told me. What kind of a father am I? Matt had been troubled for weeks, and I hadn’t noticed. Instead, I’ve been short-tempered with him. No wonder he didn’t want to confide in me.”

  His voice trembled. “And then there is Ken, my accountant. We’ve worked together many years, and I hadn’t even realized he had problems with his wife, let alone he was going through a divorce. I know I neglected Janice as well. She has been a good sport about it. The other day, I noticed that Mom and Dad had aged. When did all that happen? How much else did I overlook? How much do I really know about my family, my friends, the people around me?

  “Lately, I’ve been asking myself if I sold my soul to my business, to success, fame, and awards, and now the devil is reaping his benefits?” Robert’s eyes well up.

  “Ah, Robert,” Angelo patted him on the shoulder. “Now, you’re being a little too hard on yourself. We all make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them. So, relax about your business a little more and pay more attention to the humans around you.”

  Robert nodded and brushed a hand across his face. He looked up and saw Miriam and nine-year-old Sandro approaching. The young boy carried a backpack and balanced a soccer ball on his hand. He walked up to Angelo and hugged him, then smiled at Robert. “Hi, Robert.”

  “Hey, there, Sandro, how is it going? I heard you plan to become a famous soccer star and professional musician.”

  Sandro grinned, a little embarrassed, but then nodded vigorously. “I’m going to start guitar lessons next week.”

  “That’s great. Hey, perhaps you can play something for us during our entertainment evenings in the wine cellar.”

  “Okay, but I have to practice first,” Sandro said with a serious face.

  Robert laughed at the boy’s eagerness. “I’m sure you’ll learn it fast.”

  “Well,” Miriam said, “first we have to concentrate on your homework, okay? Let’s go and get a snack.” She and Sandro went inside.

  “You know you never told me how you found and adopted Sandro.” Robert turned to Angelo.

  “Well, you never asked,” Angelo said.

  Robert nodded. “See, that’s what I mean. I’m just not aware enough what’s going on around me, in my family. I’m sorry. But I really want to know.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. “Want another drink?”

  “No, thanks, I’m good,” Robert said.

  “Actually, I have a better idea.” Angelo got up. “You know I work as a layperson for a Benedictine abbey, right? Have you ever been to one?”

  “No, always wanted to, never made it. Another one of the things I kept postponing because of work.”

  “Let’s go,” Angelo said. “There are two facilities, one nearby and one in Big Sur. We’ll visit the nearby one where I work. We’ll come back here afterward. I hope you’re having dinner with us.”

  “Thanks. Yes. That would be great.”

  Chapter 41

  The Benedictine Monastery of the Risen Christ was situated in the backcountry of San Luis Obispo on a hill overlooking the valley below and the mountains in the distance. Robert parked his Jeep in the visitor’s parking lot next to the chapel at the entrance to the forty-acre ra
nch. On the hill above them, he spotted a few monks in their long black robes. They disappeared behind the brush and trees that seemed to form a natural border between the private residence and the public area of the monastery.

  Robert and Angelo stepped into the small chapel where they met a young monk, who sat on one of the chairs, meditating or praying. The interior of the chapel was simple. It contained a few religious pictures and a bookshelf with books and pamphlets. After looking around for a while, Angelo motioned to Robert to go outside, where they could talk without disturbing the monk’s meditation.

  Next to the chapel there were a few garden chairs. They sat down and gazed at the landscape in front of them.

  “What’s that down there?” Robert asked and pointed at a circular formation of stones.

  “It’s a labyrinth, which represents the fourteen Stations of the Cross,” Angelo explained. “Monks and visitors use it to meditate. We can check it out later.”

  Robert took a deep breath and closed his eyes, savoring the moment of peace and quiet. They sat next to each other in silence for a while.

  “You asked about Sandro?” Angelo mentioned.

  “Yes. Please tell me,” Robert said.

  “I met him in a place similar to this in the Piedmont in Italy, in a Benedictine abbey in Moretta where I attended services as a lay monk,” Angelo began in a low voice.

  “I noticed a young boy hanging out with the monks and sometimes he sat in the abbot’s office, drawing and painting. He was six years old. Abbot Francesco told me that the mother worked as a caretaker for a wealthy old man who had no family left. She and Sandro lived right next to the abbey, and the little boy often played on the monastery grounds. There was no mention of a father, so I assumed they were divorced or the father was dead.”

  Angelo stopped and gazed at the hills in the distance, thinking about that emotional time, which had been a true crossroad in his life.

  “One day, one of the monks, who had played with Sandro, told me that the mother of the boy had developed an aggressive type of cancer. She died a few weeks later. I felt terrible for little Sandro and wondered what was going to happen to him.

  “Shortly thereafter, Abbot Francesco called me into his office and told me that Sandro’s mother had begged him to let Sandro stay at the monastery after her death. She had cut all connections to whatever relatives they still had in Sicily, and she really had nobody in the Piedmont who could take care of Sandro. She knew he felt comfortable here, and the monks were his best friends. She didn’t want him to end up in an orphanage or with foster parents he didn’t know. The abbot had promised to take care of Sandro.”

  Angelo paused, then continued. “He asked me to help him. The abbey wasn’t really suited for a little boy. All the monks were adults. He needed children his own age. Abbot Francesco felt that I could let him play soccer with the boys I counseled. He suggested I meet with him a few times a week, help him with his homework and let him play with some of the kids I mentored. Sandro loved to play soccer.

  “I wasn’t sure I was the right person to take care of him. I asked the abbot about Sandro’s father and why he wasn’t around. The abbot told me that his father had died when Sandro was three years old, under suspicious circumstances. He didn’t tell me what the circumstances were. And now, at the age of only eight, he had lost his mother.”

  Angelo glanced at Robert. “I was struck by the similarities to my own past.”

  Robert frowned. “Similarities?”

  Angelo gave him a questioning look. “Your father never told you the story?”

  “I know that grandfather died when you were young, but Dad didn’t give any details.”

  “Well, our father, your grandfather, died under equally suspicious circumstances when I was three years old. He was a crook and probably a mobster. And my mother passed away when I was eight. Just like Sandro’s mom.

  “So, I felt an immediate kinship with the little boy. But with my way of life, the possibility of having to run away again if my unsavory past caught up with me, I didn’t feel I was a stable enough presence in Sandro’s life. But the longer we hung around each other, the closer we became.”

  Angelo glanced at Robert. “Then miraculously Miriam came back into my life and soon after we began the process of adopting Angelo with the help of Abbot Francesco, who must have had some connections with the adoption agency. The process went amazingly quick.” Angelo chuckled. “I suspect even the otherwise honorable abbot didn’t shy away from using his worldly influence to speed things up.”

  Angelo shrugged. “That’s the long and the short of it. The rest you know.”

  Robert had listened intently the whole time. Now, he briefly touched his uncle’s arm. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It gives me hope. I think I screwed up a few things in my life, being too ambitious and constantly striving for more. The recent events brought me to an abrupt halt. I’ve been floundering ever since. I need to make some changes. I’ve been so lucky and blessed. It’s time I gave something back. And I want to spend more time with my family.”

  Angelo put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “It’s never too late.”

  Silence again, then Robert chuckled. “You know, Uncle Angelo, there was a time I called you a bum and no-good bastard. Now, I come to you for advice. You think that’s a case of divine justice, karma, or something?”

  “No, you were right, that’s exactly what I was back then,” Angelo said. “So, you see, if a no-good bastard and bum like me can turn his life around, you, a successful winemaker and vintner can do it, too, and much more.”

  They remained seated and gazed at the view of the rolling hills that stretched to the horizon.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Robert whispered. “So peaceful.”

  “You could stay here for a few days,” Angelo suggested. “They have some very comfortable accommodations for guests. The perfect place for peace and contemplation.”

  “I may just do that.” Robert lifted a shoulder. “Though I’d probably go crazy in all this peace and serenity.”

  “You’re right,” Angelo said. “It’s not easy. It takes getting used to being alone in a quiet environment, just with yourself for company, or, depending on your religious beliefs, with God or the universe. All kinds of unruly inner voices attack you. But if you stay with it, go through the turmoil, chances are, you’d feel renewed. That’s at least what happened to me.”

  Chapter 42

  Janice came back from a meeting of her community volunteer group. She put down her purse, poured a glass of water and drank it slowly, then got ready to prepare a pot of tea. She heard the door open; Robert walked into the kitchen and kissed her. Ever since visiting Angelo and Miriam, he seemed to be in a better mood again. He looked pensive but not troubled, a definite improvement. “I’m going to make tea. Want some?”

  He nodded. “Sure. Thanks. How did your meeting go?”

  “Okay,” Janice said. “We’re still looking for a piece of property for the planned youth center. You know the one the city agreed to support. But first we need the space. The land is just so expensive.”

  “I may have a solution for that.”

  “Oh?” Janice watched him surprised.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Robert continued. “About the business and all. There is a field close to downtown. The vines are old and need to be replaced. But then I’ve been thinking,” he repeated.

  “Thinking what, honey?” Janice smiled.

  “What if I donated the field for the youth center? It’s not as if we needed another vineyard. We can barely take care of the ones we have.”

  “You mean just give it away?” Janice looked at him startled.

  “Yes. Why not? Of course, I’d have to consult with Matt and Nadia. They’d have to agree.”

  “Oh, Robert. This sounds wonderful. God, that would mean so much to the volunteer organization. Yes, of course, you’d have to discuss it with the kids. I bet they would agree. I think Matt sometimes gets o
verwhelmed with the whole thing.”

  Robert’s eyes gleamed. In fact, he hadn’t shown that much enthusiasm for anything in weeks, well really months, Janice thought.

  “I was thinking of my friend Stephen Mason, the architect. He might be interested in doing the project, and I know he’d be willing to do it in an economical way. And didn’t Adam say he needed to come up with a project for his master’s thesis? Who knows he may be interested in working together with Stephen.” Robert stopped and gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

  Janice felt elated and she liked the way Robert’s thinking was changing. “Honey, I love the idea. Perhaps, even Julietta may be able to contribute. She’s still in the early stages of her studies but a little hands-on experience may really help her as well.”

  “You’re right,” Robert said. He rubbed his forehead, a gesture that usually showed he was either nervous or thinking heavily about a project. “There’s another piece of property we need to decide what to do with. We’ll either have to replant it or, I was thinking, we could sell it.” He gave Janice an inquiring look. “Mark Llewellyn expressed an interest in it. He wants to plant a new varietal and thinks the soil and position of the field would be perfect. I thought we could sell it and give the money to the kids, to Matt, Nick, and Nadia. I know Nick could use the money to refinance the mortgage on the new house. Matt is still paying off his student loan. Of course the spendthrift should’ve done that before buying a sports car, but … well, anyway. And Nadia could use the money as well once she’s done with her studies … what do you think?”

  Janice laughed happily. “It all sounds wonderful, Robert. What’s gotten into you, though? I don’t even recognize you anymore. What happened to good old frugal Robert Segantino, the relentless pursuer of success and yet another award?”