by Jan Moran
After a while, he stopped and rested a hand against the scarred door. “Is there anything besides wine to drink in here?”
“That’s all we have in the cave.”
“Let’s take a break.” They perched on the chairs, quenching their thirst with wine and sharing a brooding silence.
She watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed. She remembered running her hands across his throat as they made love. The touch of his skin, the smell of his hair, the sound of his deep whispers in the night. I love you, cara. I love you. One magical night she could never forget, no matter how she tried.
And it could have been forever. Her heart clenched at the loss.
She detected a glint in his eye—or was it the flicker of candlelight? Feeling self-conscious, she ran a hand across her wayward hair.
Her body was burning with heat, though not from exertion. She would never forget what it felt like to be in his arms. One moment they had been blending wine together in the cave, and then, in the blink of an eye, their lives changed.
Caterina drew a sip of wine, recalling the day that altered the course of their future.
They were in the cave testing wine. She had tasted a blended wine and let it flow over her tongue. “This is exactly what’s been missing,” she had said, her voice dropping a notch.
“It is, isn’t it?” Santo had brought her hand up to his face.
She opened her palm to him, and he pressed his full lips against her soft skin. He moved on, dragging his lips across her shoulder, which was nearly bare in the sundress she wore.
“Cara, my Caterina. What a beautiful woman you’ve become.”
Giving herself to the moment, Caterina arched her neck as he traveled across her exposed throat. When their lips finally met, their separate worlds ceased to exist.
Without a word, Santo stood and offered his hand. He guided her to the plush burgundy sofa that anchored the room; they sank into the cushions. Together they slipped free from the bondage of their thin cotton clothes, their warm bodies melding, while the desire that had simmered beneath the surface all summer exploded.
Caterina had never been intimate with a man. Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, her mother’s admonitions swirled, but she was powerless against the passion that inflamed her heart, her mind, her body.
At one point, Santo hesitated. He searched her eyes for confirmation before continuing their lovemaking, but Caterina pressed against him, her craving for him overwhelming her last vestiges of judgment. Santo’s loving intensity matched the fullness in her heart.
Even now, as Caterina recalled their passion, she thought of how right it had felt between them. The love she and Santo had expressed for each other had brought her beloved Marisa into the world. How could that have been wrong?
Yet in the eyes of her mother, her faith, and society, it was.
The connection she felt with Santo was beyond anything her friends at school had ever whispered about. It was more than a lustful encounter; they had opened their hearts to each other.
And her mother had decimated their relationship before it ever had a chance to flourish.
Caterina drank in more wine to allay her thirst. Was it too late for all of them? Suddenly, she hated this place. She wanted nothing more than to get as far from Mille Étoiles as she could.
She thought of Marisa and wondered again if she was okay. Faith and Patrick were looking after her this weekend, but she ached to hold her little girl and know that she was safe. Had the earthquake affected San Francisco? Napa Valley was an hour away from the city. It had felt as if the earthquake had been centered right under them, but San Francisco was also at risk. She had to reach Marisa.
Santo put his glass down and stretched his shoulders. “We should get back to work.”
They returned to the job at hand, and a few minutes later, Santo yelled, “I’ve got it!” He’d scraped against rock on the other side.
“Can you see anything?”
“A bunch of rocks and dirt.” He cursed under his breath. “I’d hoped to see daylight through this rubble. It’s a landslide, for sure.”
“Can you tell how dense it is?”
He shook his head. “It might be a small amount, or it might be half the mountain. Let’s keep going, cara.”
That word, cara, slipped carelessly from his lips, breaking her heart yet again.
“How much longer can we survive in here?” How long would they have sufficient oxygen? Worse still, what about the rising carbon dioxide level, the deadly natural by-product of fermenting wine? The doors to the cave were always open when people were working to guard against carbon dioxide poisoning.
Santo looked grim. “There’s no time to waste.” He thrust the end of the iron hoop into the wood.
As they gouged and stripped away particles of wood, Caterina thought about the night they’d slept together—the only night—the night she’d replayed in her mind so many times. “Do you ever think about what might have been between us?”
A nerve above his eye twitched. “Of course I do.” He reached through the hole he’d made in the door and swept dirt away. “But that was a long time ago.” He gritted his teeth and gouged at the door again.
Caterina glanced at Santo and felt a stab of regret. God must have it in for me. Of all the men to be trapped in an earthquake with, why did it have to be him?
Suddenly, beams of light spilled through the hole they’d made through the door from outside. Raphael’s voice boomed out. “Santo, Caterina, are you in there?”
Santo rushed to the door. “We’re here,” he called back. “But we can’t open the door. Can you move the rocks?”
Caterina got up and stood behind Santo. The din increased, and she could make out other voices. Her mother, Nina, Juliana. The dog was howling with excitement.
Santo cried out, “Vino!” He turned to Caterina, relief spreading across his weary face.
Overcome with emotion, Caterina began to sob. After today, she might never see Santo again.
“Hey, we’re safe now, cara,” he said, putting his arm around her. His voice sounded thick. “We’ll be free in a few minutes.”
Crying harder, Caterina turned into his chest and felt the steady throb of his heart. She pressed her hands against his chest, logging into her memory the feel of his skin.
“Everything’s okay now.” Santo kissed her forehead and smiled. “At least we’re talking again. If nothing else, this was worth it. I’ve missed you. Friends again?”
Friends? That was beyond her ability with him. He smiled down at her, his eyes sparking another sob that threatened to rack her body. Gripping her emotions, she turned her face to his. “Is that what you think?”
“Cat, come on, what more do you expect of me right now?”
“Hold on,” Raphael called. “Almost there.”
“What’s wrong?” His smile disappeared, and he glared at her. “I thought things had changed between us.”
“So had I.” Caterina shook her head. What good could come of this? He was engaged; he had chosen another.
She was a mother; she had more important things to do with her time.
Ten minutes later, beams of light from flashlights and kerosene lamps flooded the cave, and they were freed. There were hugs and cries all around, though Caterina winced as Ava embraced her.
Raphael handed Caterina a kerosene lamp. She waited until the others walked ahead, and then she asked her mother the question burning in her mind. “Why didn’t you tell me Santo had asked to marry me?”
Ava narrowed her eyes. “Is that what he told you?”
“Don’t play this guessing game with me again. I know it’s the truth.”
“You don’t know anything.”
Caterina raised the lamp to illuminate her mother’s face. “Maybe not, but mark my words, I’m going to find out everything.” She pushed the lamp into her mother’s hand and hurried to join Juliana.
As Caterina flung an arm around her dearest friend, Ju
liana whispered, “Everything okay between you and Santo?”
“Sure. Nothing happened in there.” Technically that was true. But another one of her mother’s lies had been unveiled, and her heart had been tested. She wondered if her feelings toward him would ever end. “What time is it?”
“Probably about four or five in the morning.” Juliana swung her flashlight in front of them.
With Raphael and Nina leading the way, they picked their way through rocks and dirt, the night illuminated only by the glow of kerosene lamps.
“The electricity and telephone are out?” Caterina asked as they approached the darkened house.
“That’s right, but we have plenty of kerosene, candles, and flashlights.” Raphael opened the rear door to the main house. He stepped inside, swinging his flashlight around.
“I’ll get more supplies.” Nina pushed through the kitchen door.
Panic gripped Caterina. She had to know if Marisa was okay. With the phones out, her only option was to drive into the city to see how Marisa was.
“I have to go back to San Francisco right now.” When everyone turned to look at her, Caterina realized too late how strange it must have sounded, but all she could think about was Marisa’s safety. She turned to Santo. “Will you come with me?”
Santo looked suspiciously at her. “Why? It’s late.”
She crossed her arms. “Will you come or not?” She’d lost her chance to tell him about Marisa in the cave. He could drive her into San Francisco, and they could talk on the way. She didn’t want to blurt out her secret about Marisa to him here, in front of everyone. They should be alone.
Ava spoke up. “Caterina, don’t put Santo out. You’re tired; you can leave when it’s daylight.” She slid a piercing peripheral gaze to Santo.
“Your mother’s right,” Raphael added. “The roads might be damaged—a bridge could be down. Wait until the sun is up.”
Santo shoved a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if to verify what he’d told her in the cave. “I have to return to Davis anyway.”
Davis. To see his fiancée, no doubt. Caterina swung her gaze from Ava to Santo and back again. Too much time had passed. Decisions had been made. She thought about the house in Montalcino. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to take Marisa there. If the vineyard came with the house, she could make wine to support them, just as Ava had done when her father had died. There she would be free of judgment, free to raise Marisa and live her life.
Raphael hitched up his trousers. “I need to check on the gas line again. Santo, I need your help.” Raphael made his way to the door, and Santo followed him out without so much as a backward glance.
Ava went into the kitchen to check on Nina.
Juliana put a hand on her hip and looked at Caterina, her suspicions aroused. “What’s going on, Cat?”
Caterina squeezed Juliana’s hand. “I have to make sure Marisa is okay. Tell everyone I’m going to check on my apartment. I’ll call you when I can.” She hugged her friend.
Before Caterina could change her mind, she grabbed her purse from the table and her keys from the hook by the rear door. She tucked two bottles of wine Santo had brought from the cave under her arm and then flung open the door and raced to her car.
With one last tear-blurred look back at Mille Étoiles, she tapped on her bright lights and wheeled onto the pitch-dark road. Through the rubble she began the descent, swerving around rocks and fallen tree limbs.
When Caterina came to the main road, she saw the earthquake had buckled the asphalt and the road was closed, so she had to take a longer route to San Francisco.
Halfway there she stopped at a gas station to call the O’Connells, but the attendant told her their phone line was out. A few miles down the road, she pulled into a breakfast diner, but their phone lines were down, too.
Caterina pressed a hand against her pounding heart. She’d never been so worried in her life. She wouldn’t rest until she saw Marisa.
There were so many cars snaking into the city that the usual hour drive took several hours. Even the soaring Golden Gate Bridge was jammed with creeping autos as she crossed the bay. Gazing across the city, she thought San Francisco looked relatively unharmed. She breathed a sigh of relief as she drove.
When Caterina rushed into the O’Connells’ home, she called out, “Faith? Patrick?”
The family was in the kitchen getting ready for lunch. Marisa broke into a smile and squealed with glee when she saw her mother.
Caterina scooped her from her high chair and hugged her tightly to her chest, relief flooding her. “I’m so happy to see you, little one.” Marisa’s bright eyes—Santo’s eyes—twinkled with happiness, oblivious to her mother’s worries. She rocked her little girl in her arms. I’ll never let her go again. She kissed Marisa’s soft cheek, reaffirming her decision about their future. She might have lost her mother and Santo, but she would not lose Marisa.
“We heard the news this morning about Napa,” Faith said. “We’ve been trying to reach you. Why, you put my heart crossways, I had such a fright.”
“Everything is shut down,” Caterina said. “I was trapped in our wine cave all day and most of the night.”
“Fierce weather, indeed. Shook a bit here, but not much.” Patrick rapped on the wall. “No damage, thank the Lord.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten.” Faith added another place setting and insisted she sit down.
“Not really.” Caterina swept a hand over her face and hair. “I must look a fright, too.”
“Eat first. You can bathe later.” Faith slid a serving of corned beef and cabbage onto Caterina’s plate.
Never had food smelled so good. While Caterina ate, she fed Marisa, who was also hungry.
“How bad is the damage at the winery?” Patrick asked.
“We lost some wine, and the cave will have to be cleaned up and reinforced, but I think most of the equipment survived.”
After Marisa’s afternoon nap, playtime, and dinner, Caterina bathed her, changed her into her nightwear, and stroked her hair and back until she fell asleep. Satisfied that Marisa was sleeping soundly, Caterina tiptoed down the stairs to help Faith clear the table.
As they were washing dishes, Faith asked, “Did you have a chance to speak to your mother about Marisa?”
Caterina sighed. “We had a dreadful argument.” Faith had so much confidence in the goodness of people that she hated to tell her the truth, but she did.
“Oh no!” Faith exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes. “I’d prayed so much for her acceptance of Marisa. What are you going to do?”
Caterina lifted a corner of her mouth. “Strangely enough, I just learned I’ve inherited a house in Italy. I’ve decided that Marisa and I are moving to Montalcino. We’ll start fresh there.” No one will know about our past.
As she spoke, her voice was filled with hope, but thoughts of separation slashed her heart. She would miss her family and friends, Faith and Patrick, and all the good people she’d worked with in Napa and San Francisco. And Santo. Always Santo. As much as she hated to admit it.
“That’s a timely gift from God, indeed it is.” Faith nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll pray you meet a good man there.”
Caterina dried her hands and hugged her dear friend. Although Faith meant well, a man was the last thing on Caterina’s mind now.
11
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Early the next morning, Caterina managed to get a call through to Juliana at her mother’s cottage on the vineyard. Juliana was helping Nina clean up, and she reported that none of the winemaking equipment had been damaged.
Caterina dressed in a slim-fitting taupe suit, secured her matching hat, and pulled on ivory three-quarter gloves. She kissed Marisa good-bye and reported to work at the St. Francis Hotel.
On her lunch break, she checked the documents in her purse. The date for the reading of the will in Montalcino was drawing near. She hurried to a private phone booth off the lobby. After she closed
the glass door, she called the investigator, Anthony Martoni, who had visited her with news of her inheritance.
“Hello, Anthony. I’m calling to see if the offer for the flight to Montalcino is still available.” She twirled the coiled telephone cord around her finger. “And I need a ticket for my baby,” she added in a matter-of-fact manner. “Violetta Rosetta’s great-granddaughter.” She held her breath.
“Of course, Miss Rosetta, er, forgive me, Mrs.—”
She could hear the surprise in his voice. “You can still call me Caterina.”
“Oh, uh, thank you. And will your husband be traveling with you as well?”
“No.” At least that was true.
“I understand. My wife chastises me for working too much as well. Maybe he can get away with you next time. That’s round trip, of course?”
“Why, yes.” Caterina doubted she’d have need for return tickets, but she didn’t want to explain, so she went along with his assumption.
“I’ll make a note for my secretary. She’ll also arrange your airport pickup and an inn for your stay.” She could hear him rustling papers.
Caterina asked him a few questions about the house, and he assured her that the property in Montalcino was hers to live in or do with as she wished, although he suspected it would need repairs.
She wasn’t afraid of hard work.
Anthony went on, “Heard on the news you had another earthquake out there. That was one of the most unnerving experiences I’ve ever had. Glad we don’t have them in New York.” He paused. “What did you say your husband does?”
Caterina winced. She was growing to hate her lies, but people didn’t really want to know her truth. She could just imagine the feigned politeness, the whispers behind her back. No, I’m not married. Never was. Knocked up? Oh yes, I was. That’s right, pity he wouldn’t marry me. But on we go … She’d be branded a social pariah. And for what? Having sex? Giving birth? That was a normal part of life. The only thing missing was a marriage license. A damned piece of paper. She had to admit, her mother had been right about that. She dragged her attention back to the conversation.