The Winemaker

by Charmaine Pauls

  He brushed his fingers over her mouth, his eyes roaming over her as if he wanted to imprint the memory of her in every nerve of his being and then opened her door for her. She stepped inside and gave him one last look before he closed her door, and shut the image of his face from the remainder of her night. She had never felt more lonely or cold. Her passion was spent, she was empty.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ana had arranged for a wedding practice run the day before the actual ceremony. They had invited all the participants to dine at the estate. The house was a buzz of people running around, setting up sound equipment, gazebos, arranging flowers, and preparing food. The only people who didn’t join in the joyous preparations were Luca and Zenna.

  After waking up early that morning, the memory of the night she and Etán had spent still fresh in her mind, Zenna started packing. There was no way she could stay to face Etán and Clara as a married couple. What Etán had offered her the previous night, what he had asked from her, was something he wouldn’t do once he had taken his vows. She understood. There was something between them that was bigger than the ‘chemistry’ they had baptized it as. After tomorrow, it could never be again. It had been magical, beautiful, like a unique, once-off creation, and it could never be again.

  Zenna realized, for the first time, how hard she had fallen for him. All this time they had been living under the same roof, she had fought and denied her feelings because she knew he couldn’t return them in the way she wanted. Last night, they had come so close. For the first time, Etán had opened up to her completely, giving her all of his emotions without holding back. It was powerful and passionate. She knew she had fallen in love with him long before last night. It took her a while to face the facts, and now she had, she had no choice but to, once again, pick up the pieces and move on. After Marcos, she had been shattered, but her hopes had still been intact. After Etán, she knew it wasn’t going to be quite as easy. All she could pray for was for time to heal the wounds.

  When she finished her packing, she walked onto the veranda, watching the scurrying of people from afar, as she leaned against a pillar. She was aware of everything happening around her. Her senses were alert, sharp. She saw Ana, next to Clara, talking to the Master of Ceremonies. Pedro was showing the waiters where the bar was to be placed. Alejandro and Cristian directed the moving of crates of wine from the cellar to the house. Juan and his wife, Marcia, waited for the wedding practice run to begin, drinking from bottles of mineral water at the top end of the aisle that led through the chairs set out in the garden. The priest stood under the gazebo, reading from a piece of paper. Teresa fluttered around the florist who arranged bouquets of white and orange roses.

  A breeze disrupted the quiet, bright air of the morning, rustling and disordering the heap of dry leaves the gardener had raked up on the lawn. Zenna looked up. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The weather forecast predicted a sunny, windless day. A perfect day for a wedding. Zenna suddenly wished her future could be predicted as easily as a weather forecast. That would have been something. She still had no idea where she was going. The only certainty in her life was Etán was getting married and she was leaving.

  She couldn’t go to Luca, because she would still be exposed to Etán, in one way or another. It was ironic she had found herself here, in this place, only to be running again. This time she was running from something entirely different. She wasn’t running from kidnappers, she was running from her love, her pain.

  The breeze picked up, lifting a light, yellow leaf and twirling it past her. In contrast to the clear, blue sky, her life was a brewing thunderstorm. She felt strangely calm, strangely accepting, but she knew the breakdown would come. She just couldn’t allow it to crush her. Not just yet. Her eyes moved to the vineyard that glowed orange and red in the distance. The fruit of Etán’s labor ... saved for the child he is going to have with Clara.

  Even while lost inside her own thoughts, in a quiet space inside of her soul, she didn’t miss Luca approaching her, leaning on the pillar next to her. For a while, they stood in silence, regarding the activities around them. When he did eventually speak, he didn’t say anything about the night before. Instead he looked at her for a long moment, taking in her new look.

  “You look different. No, you look amazing. I like your hair like that.”

  “Thank you.” She touched her auburn hair self-consciously. She had dyed it, washing out the highlights in the morning with the hair dye she had bought on her shopping spree in the city. “This is my ... totally ... natural color.”

  “It suits you.” His voice was quiet, subdued. His eyes moved over her black slacks and red shirt. “You look good looking like yourself.”

  “That only makes sense to you, and to me.” She smiled.

  “You shouldn’t have to hide behind that rebel look. You’re a great woman, Zenna. I have a feeling you’re only starting to discover yourself and who you can be.”

  “It’s been a strange journey,” she said, knowing he knew what she meant.

  “Tomorrow is going to be strange day,” he mused.

  A little pause followed while both of them watched as Etán emerged from the bottom of the garden, walking to Clara’s side. They exchanged a few words. Clara smiled. Etán’s face was, as usual, a mask.

  “Luca,” Zenna started uncertainly, “about last night...”

  He turned his head back to her. “You don’t have to explain to me, Zenna.”

  She looked at her hands and then back at his face. “You know how I feel, don’t you?”

  He smiled. “For the first time since we’ve met, you’re not hiding your emotions from me. You haven’t forgotten I’m an empath, Zenna, have you? I know you love me like a brother.” He looked back toward the wedding procession. “I know how you feel about Etán. You can’t hide it anymore.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’ve known it from the start, even if you did do a mostly good job of hiding it. I’m sorry for your pain. I can feel it inside of you, tucked away so carefully, waiting to be released, when no one will see your tears.”

  “You know all that?”

  “Yes, I was truly hoping Etán would come to his senses.” He gave a boyish laugh. “I even tried to make him jealous. For you.” His voice was soft. “Promise me if you need someone, you won’t suffer alone. Come to me when it feels like you can’t make it on your own.”

  She couldn’t lie to him. “Luca, I’m leaving.”

  He didn’t look at her. “I know, but I think you should stay. At least until you’re over him enough to carry on.”

  “I can’t break down in front of them ... him ...” she said. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

  The music started, and they watched Clara starting to walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. Ana was calling to the musician who played the piano to slow the pace.

  “Luca,” she started again, “I’m not sure I know how you feel. I want to know you, too, will be all right.”

  He straightened, putting his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry, Zenna, I’m not in love with you. I’ve never been. I love you like a sister, but I’ve never liked you in the way Etán did.”

  She noticed he had used the past tense and it made her flinch.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, understanding why his words had hurt her.

  “Don’t be. It’s quite all right,” she lied.

  They watched as Clara and Juan reached Etán, watched as Clara’s father released his daughter’s arm from his, and embraced his future son-in-law.

  Luca turned, starting for the stairs.

  “Are you not staying to watch the dry run?”

  He leaped down the stairs and started to stroll in the direction of the vineyards. “I don’t think I can bear it,” he said over his shoulder.

  She watched him disappear behind the cluster of trees at the bottom of the garden, the ones that lined the big pond. Her eyes drifted to the wedding couple, Clara’s hand now on Etán
’s arm, and Zenna realized she couldn’t bear it either. She looked back in the direction Luca had disappeared. It was better not to say goodbye. If they happened to run into each other one day before her court case came up, they would kiss and pretend everything was all right. If she went to Luca now, she would lose control in the wake of his compassion.

  She looked one last time at the perfect wedding laid out in front of her before she walked back into the house and called a taxi from her mobile phone. She would call Ana and Pedro later after the rush of the wedding had died down to thank them for saving her. They probably wouldn’t understand why she didn’t stay for the ceremony, but she’d think of something before she spoke to them again.

  She went back to her room to do a last check. Her box of books and her two suitcases were ready plus a few extra shopping bags, thanks to Luca. She was going to miss him and his contagious naughty boy attitude, but not nearly as much as she was going to miss Etán.

  She slipped the two bottles of wine he had given her into her bag and bent over the bed to get a good grip on the heavy suitcase when a vision struck. At first, she panicked. It was the first involuntary vision she had since she started working with Margarita. She made a conscious effort to relax her body and her mind. The pain that started to pinch her in a vice eased.

  She used the technique Margarita had taught her to grip and hold the vision. She effectively pushed the emotions that usually hijacked her attention and stayed in control to distinguish between reality and the vision. She stayed grounded, gripping the bed, and let the vision unroll to its full length.

  When it ended, she was wet with perspiration. Her breathing raced and her heart beat erratically, but there was no pain. She gasped as she pulled back the images into her conscious mind. She had to warn the family. She had to get outside. Yet even as she tried to move, the unearthly sound from the ceiling froze her to the spot. Too late! She first felt the event from her vision unfold in the shaking under her feet and in the way the bed moved under her hands. Her eyes widened in shock and panic.

  A terrible noise came from the ceiling. It snapped and cracked from its central point until the cracking noise spread out like a net into all directions above her head. It sounded as if the whole roof could give at any minute. As the terrifying, deathly noise penetrated the walls, the furniture, and the windows, the movement beneath her increased. The wave built in strength and speed. She could hear it in the crescendo rattling of the windows and see it in the things falling around her.

  The earth was not only moving sideways in increasing violent spasms, but also vertically. The sound of the windows straining in their frames was frightening. The wave built again, and she saw with distress how objects, lamps and vases started to tumble from tables and commodes, crashing with clattering, breaking sounds to the floor. The sliding doors of the closets opened. Drawers slid out, and paintings lost their hold on the walls as the nails came loose and they fell around her. Cracks appeared in the walls around her. Bricks were exposed behind the plaster and paint.

  She glanced at the huge light fitting above, saw the bolts come undone, and tried to scramble away from it, but found her legs battled to anticipate the moving earth, making it almost impossible to maintain her balance. She let go of the bed, crouching on the floor next to it, until, almost as suddenly as it started, the movement stopped.

  She had precious few minutes before the first aftershock was going to strike. It was going to be a stronger one, stronger than the earthquake that had just hit. She barely managed to make it to the double door that led from her bedroom to the veranda, pulling at the latch feverishly, only to realize the door wasn’t going to budge. Looking up, she saw the doorframe had been squashed in at the top, trapping her and preventing a short escape outside.

  She forced herself to run on shaky legs over broken glass and ornaments through the open door that led to the hallway. Chaos surrounded her. A small table lay on its side. The water fountain in the inner courtyard had broken and water drowned the concrete floor around it. Windows were cracked, and picture frames littered the floor.

  The kitchen was an even bigger disaster. Plates had slipped from the buffet, lying on the floor, some whole and others shattered, while broken glasses lay on the counters and on the tiles beneath the open cupboard doors. Stepping over tins of food that had fallen from the pantry and bottles of wine spilling their contents underneath the wine rack, her only thought was to get to the people outside. To Etán.

  Screaming and panic filled the air. As she reached the veranda, the perfectly orchestrated wedding preparations of earlier lay destroyed in the garden. She took it all in with one glance.

  Ana was shouting instructions to the guards. She was bent over the priest, blood flowing from his head where it had been struck when the gazebo collapsed. Chairs lay in disarray over the lawn amid crushed flowers. She searched the audience until she saw Pedro calling out orders and checking for injuries. Etán ran toward the cellar. The barrels ... the wine...

  Scrambling down the steps from the veranda, she ran toward Ana. When the older woman saw her, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank God you’re all right. I need you to get to the house. Get the medicine box. We have to stop the bleeding.”

  Zenna wasn’t concerned with the priest. It was a superficial wound. She grabbed Ana’s arm. “There is another one coming. Stronger this time.”

  She saw Ana’s face go paper-white before she got to her feet and gripped Zenna’s arm. “Pedro, we have to warn Pedro!”

  Before either woman could move, the horrible noise started anew. The earth shook as geological plates moved miles below, groaning in protest to the forced imbalance as layers of uplifted, underground mountains tried to correct the balance. Spasms slowly built to a crescendo like the labor pains of birth. Then, agonizing bit by bit, the first, violent aftershock stilled.

  Zenna fell to her knees, glancing around to ensure there wasn’t anything in the immediate vicinity that could crash on their heads. The aftershock was shorter in duration, but harder in intensity. Pandemonium snaked through the small crowd. Zenna looked up to see people crying, screaming, shaking. Another quick surveillance of the area told her Clara was all right, huddled between her parents. Zenna’s only instinct was to get to Etán.

  As she got to her feet again, trying to steady her legs, Ana gripped her arm. She looked at Zenna, her face distorted in alarm.

  “Luca,” she cried.

  Zenna looked around. Fear gripped her. She heard Ana calling to Teresa to take care of the priest while she ran toward the house.

  Zenna followed. “Ana, stop. He’s not there.”

  Ana turned, a panicked look on her face. “What do you mean he’s not in the house?”

  “I saw him walking toward the vineyards only ten minutes ago.”

  Ana turned toward the path that lead from the garden past the pond to the vineyards.

  Zenna caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “You can’t go out there on your own. We have no idea how long before the next aftershock. There will be another one. I’ve seen it, Ana!”

  Ana stopped. “Get Etán,” she said, suddenly in control of the situation, as calm as ever. “We have to go look for him.”

  “Ana, what is it?”

  “I have a terrible feeling, Zenna,” she said, her eyes wide. “Luca is in danger. Hurry!”

  Zenna ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Halfway to the cellar, a wave of nausea welled up inside of her. She stopped, managed to steady her breathing, and regain control. She was barely prepared when the vision came, this time violently fast. Feeling her feet swaying, she gripped at the trunk of a nearby tree. She did her best to hold the vision, to let it unroll, but her body was under too much strain. The image slipped from her mind, running like water through her fingers, beyond her will to trap it, but she had seen enough. Luca! She gasped for air again, fighting for breath. There wasn’t enough time to find Etán.

  She turned, running back. In the garden,
she stopped next to Teresa. The housekeeper knelt beside the priest, crying.

  Zenna gripped her by her shoulders. “Teresa.” The woman started to cry harder. “Teresa,” Zenna shouted. “Listen to me. Luca is trapped in the caves. I think I can find him, but there’s little time. Run and tell Ana and Pedro.”

  She turned to the priest. “Do you think you’ll be all right?” She spoke in a shaky voice.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, holding a dishcloth to his bleeding skull.

  “Run,” Zenna shouted at Teresa.

  Zenna got to her feet and ran for the path that circled the vineyards, zigzagging up the hill that led to the caves. By the time she reached the narrow opening in the rocks that hid a bigger, natural hall behind it, and several smaller caves connected by a maze of interconnected tunnels, it was painful to breathe. She drew air haphazardly into her burning lungs. Falling into the dust in front of the entrance, she prayed her gift wouldn’t let her down even if only this once.

  She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She imagined herself changing into a tiny bird that could easily access the narrow tunnels beyond the rock formation. She focused every ounce of energy she had left on accessing the hidden caves by voluntarily using her gift for the first time until she could feel Luca, until the vision became clear enough for her to see him.

  He was trapped inside one of the caves. The wall in front of him had yielded when the first earthquake struck, closing him in. He didn’t know by moving a rock at his back, he could crawl through a tunnel just big enough for a man’s body to access another small cave that had been opened at the back by the quake. What set her heart racing was what she glimpsed in her vision before. The second aftershock would destroy the roof of the cave where he huddled, collapsing tons of rocks on top of him.

  Frantic, she looked around. She saw people in the distance running toward her. She could do it. She could find him. She had to or it would be too late. It wasn’t Etán who reached her first, it was a tearful and shaken Clara.