by Jan Moran
“Caterina, let us handle this.” Santo’s voice was gentle but laced with concern.
“No, this is our land.” Caterina jerked a thumb toward her chest, crying out with pent-up frustration and torment. Marisa frowned at her mother’s sharp words.
Raphael leveled his gaze at her. “We’ve all worked this land together; it’s our livelihood, too. More than that, it’s our home, and we’ll fight for it together.”
Caterina bit her lip against the raging emotions within her.
“Anger is good, signorina; it gives you strength to fight,” Raphael said. “But direct it toward the right person. Santo told me he tried to do the right thing by you. Regrettably, your mother and I committed a grave error in judgment. Now it’s up to you and Santo to decide how to deal with this. We must go forward.” He glanced at Marisa. “For her sake.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it.” Caterina’s eyes clouded, blinded by a mixture of hurt and hatred and rage for her father and the utter, gross unfairness of it all. She couldn’t understand why their hearts sought out each other if their love was so wrong.
Seeing Santo was more than she could bear. Pressing Marisa to her chest and fueled by adrenaline, Caterina fled the cave, racing through the darkened vineyard toward the house. Leaves slapped at her arms, and she stumbled in her woven espadrilles. She careened down the hill, her hair streaming behind her, her face wet with angry tears. Marisa cried at the jostling chaos.
Caterina’s shoes slipped in the dirt, and she pitched forward. She lurched to the ground, falling onto her knees but still clutching Marisa, who was growing even more agitated. As she went down, the air cracked above her. The old vine above her head exploded, showering her and Marisa with shreds of bark and leaves and fruit.
What the hell? In an instant, her muddled mind cleared. Caterina recalled with horror the sound of distant pings in the hills during hunting season. She pressed herself and Marisa down into the volcanic dirt, hardly daring to breathe, her heart thumping in her chest.
Another shot exploded the ground beside them. Dirt sprayed onto Marisa’s face, and she screamed.
“Shh,” Caterina whispered, clamping her hand over Marisa’s mouth.
She heard a rustle behind her. Clasping her arms around Marisa, she crawled under the vines into the next row. She craned her neck and saw a man creeping through the rows.
Luca.
Her skin bristled. What she felt for him was far beyond hatred; it was an emotion descending into an intense, dark realm of abhorrence and loathing she didn’t know she possessed. She leaped to her feet and raced through the vineyard with Marisa, trying to stay low.
Another shot cracked through the night air. Caterina ducked as a bullet whizzed past them, shattering a cluster of grapes and splattering dark burgundy-red splotches against her white shirt and Marisa’s pink dress.
“Caterina, where are you?” Santo’s voice rang out on the hillside above her.
“Get down!” she screamed. As soon as the words left her lips, another shot rocketed past her. She dropped and rolled through the dirt into another row, brushing leaves and dirt from Marisa’s face. A laugh erupted behind her.
“Why run? You’re trapped,” Luca said.
Caterina blinked. Ahead of her was a shed, to the right a ravine. He stood angled behind her, blocking her escape, a gun leveled at them.
“You’re an evil man! You never deserved my mother!” she screamed, edging away.
Another laugh. “She’s next. She’ll get everything she deserves.” Her father—a rangy, menacing man with a haughty profile—advanced toward them. She pressed against a vine and turned her back toward him to shield her baby.
“Leave them out of this.” Santo was striding toward them with determination, a shotgun wedged against his shoulder, squinting one eye down the barrel.
“You’re not going to kill anything larger than a bird with that.” Luca laughed again. “Ava stole everything from me. Now I’m taking it back.”
Caterina felt her way along the wooden supports that held the vines and grapes. She’d reached the end of the row. A few steps behind her, the ravine fell away. A mule had once lost its footing and plunged to its death in the steep abyss.
That’s exactly what he’s planning, she thought. Caterina’s hand quivered against the end of the wooden support.
“We’ll give you what you want!” Caterina yelled, stalling for time. “Take Mille Étoiles!” Santo was closing in on them. Through the shadows, she spied another figure approaching him from behind.
“Santo, watch out!” Caterina screamed just before a man knocked Santo from his feet. Her pulse roared through her head. She was wild with fear for Santo. And for Marisa.
“What a shame; he almost saved you.” Luca’s eyes gleamed as he came closer to her, his boots crunching against the shattered vine. “Did you really think I’d be here alone?”
“You’re disgusting.” Santo and the other man were scuffling, but there was nothing she could do. Or was there?
His lips curled into a sneer. “Maybe, but I’ll be rich once I get rid of this stinking place—and you and your mother.”
“If you kill us, you’ll be caught. You won’t get the money.”
“Sure I will. The sheriff will decide you all died in the fire.” He reached the edge of the vineyard and took aim.
As Luca raised his gun, Santo sprang loose and dove for his legs. The gun exploded as they collided, and Luca slumped onto Santo, cursing. Precariously close to the edge, Santo clawed his way out from under him.
Luca clutched his side. Blood oozed from his wound. With effort, he raised his gun and took aim again. Caterina squeezed Marisa against her chest and shrank back, prayers on her lips.
But before Luca could bring Caterina and Marisa into his sight, Santo thrust out a long, powerful leg, smashing his foot against Luca’s wounded area.
An animal scream erupted from Luca’s mouth. Off balance, he fired, flailing as he tried to maintain his stability. “Help!” he cried, waving his arms.
Caterina watched in morbid fascination as Luca slid backward in slow motion, the soft limestone soil crumbling beneath him, unable to stop his fall. Instinctively she reached for his hand, but he slid and flipped over, tumbling down the ravine. She could hear him grasping in vain at limbs and rocks. His screams reverberated through the mountains.
Caterina caught her breath, and even Marisa grew quiet. After a thud, the vineyard fell silent.
Santo wrapped his arms around her and Marisa. “Cara, are you two okay?”
“I think so.” Shaking, she pressed against Santo, grateful he was there. She was still clutching Marisa, who began wailing hysterically. “Where’s the other guy?”
“I got him,” Raphael answered. He stood over the man, a gun pointed at his head.
“Do you think Luca is dead?” Caterina was still shivering.
Santo stared at the spot where Luca had gone over the edge. “No way could he survive that fall. The coyotes and mountain lions will take care of the rest.” Santo’s breathing was labored. “I never would’ve forgiven myself if he’d hurt you or Marisa.”
Caterina’s head grew light. She clung to Santo, her heart pumping. He took Marisa from her, stroking her tiny back with a broad hand to calm her cries.
Santo inspected Marisa’s grape-spattered dress, alarmed. “Dio mio, is this blood on my child?”
Caterina looked down and clutched Marisa’s pink dress, which was covered with dirt and stained a deep crimson. She ran her hands over Marisa’s limbs. “No blood, just grapes,” she said, expelling a deep breath. She and Marisa were bruised and filthy, but they were unharmed. “Luca was a lousy shot. Only the vines suffered his wrath.”
Santo glanced down the black ravine. “He’s surely dead.” He rocked Marisa in his arms, stroking her hair with love. “When I saw him threatening you and my baby girl, I could have killed him myself.”
Caterina’s eyes misted as she watched Santo and Marisa
together. In her father’s arms, Marisa had ceased crying. Santo was humming to her. Caterina leaned into him and felt his heart pounding, matching her rapid pulse. “How did you know he was here?”
“I didn’t,” Santo said. “I came after you and Marisa, and then I heard shots. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect this precious little one and her mother. So I grabbed the gun from the truck.” He smoothed tangled hair from her face. “I never knew my parents. I wish I’d been there for Marisa from the beginning, but it’s not too late to start now.”
Under the tragic circumstances, that would be all he could do, Caterina thought, giving in to soul-crushing anguish. And for that, Luca was surely on his way to hell.
36
The next morning, Caterina lingered in the early predawn darkness at the rear kitchen door, cupping hot coffee in her hands. The house and vineyard were quiet, although the air still seemed charged with electricity.
Last night Santo had walked her and Marisa back to the house and made sure they were safe. She wanted to talk to him, but the house had erupted in chaos. The sheriff and the priest arrived after news of Luca’s demise had reached the town. The sheriff had interviewed each of them and taken statements. The priest had counseled them, prayed with them, and reassured them of God’s forgiveness for any sins they thought they might have committed.
He had no idea how many they’d racked up.
Caterina had barely closed her eyes to sleep before it was time to rise again, but this morning, she felt better knowing Luca was gone. She would mourn her father—not for the man he was but for the ideal her mother had created for her, for the father she had always wished she’d known.
Santo was a good man; he would be a fine father to Marisa. For this, she was thankful.
Yawning, she rubbed her puffy eyes. Life would go on, she thought sadly, though not as she’d hoped. After her mother’s confession and confirmation of her worst fear, little hope remained for a life with the man she loved. All things considered, it was the best outcome she could have expected. Luca had done his despicable part, but she’d also mangled her life and lied to everyone who loved her.
As for the constant ache in her soul, she’d have to live with that for the rest of her life. She blinked back tears of despair. How she would manage that, she didn’t know. One day at a time; that’s all she could do. Caterina heard footsteps behind her and whirled around, her coffee sloshing over the rim.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Ava said.
“My nerves are shot,” Caterina replied, swallowing against a lump in her throat. Though Luca was dead, she couldn’t seem to eradicate his disturbing presence.
“Mine, too.”
Ava was attired in jeans and boots for the workday ahead. Even dressed casually, her mother looked chic with a printed cotton scarf at her neck, pearl stud earrings, and fresh citrus perfume. Then Caterina realized she was dressed the same way. Like mother, like daughter. Maybe the old adage was right, after all.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” Ava put her arm around Caterina.
Caterina shook her head. “I still have a creepy feeling. Figured I might as well get started. I was just heading up to check the fermentation process.”
“I’ll come with you.” They started off, hiking up the hill in silence. They each held a flashlight to light the uneven path. The grape pickers were already working a field farther down the hill. Caterina recognized Raphael in the illuminated section and relaxed a little, knowing he was close. Then she saw Santo and looked away.
Ava sidestepped a rock. “I’m so relieved that you and Marisa weren’t harmed yesterday. Luca was always such a troubled soul.”
“At least you won’t have to get an annulment. Now you’re really a widow.”
“That’s true,” Ava replied thoughtfully. “Luca was never a father to you. He was just a cruel, egotistical, self-centered man. He professed to love Natalie, but that was obsession, not love.”
“I’m glad you have Raphael now. And we still have Mille Étoiles. Luca had planned to burn it, with all of us inside.”
Ava shook her head sadly. “But I’m devastated for you and Santo.” Unlike in the past, Ava’s voice now held a note of genuine sadness.
“We’ll work it out, Maman. He’ll be a good father to Marisa.” At least Santo wasn’t giving up on them, though their situation was tragic.
“Mille Étoiles would have been lost without you, chérie. You did so much—going to Paris, arranging the new credit lines, writing purchase orders, speaking with reporters. And making a phenomenal wine, of course.” Ava’s voice cracked with gratitude. “You saved Mille Étoiles, chérie. Your grandparents—my parents, and Violetta—would have been so proud of you.”
“I couldn’t have created the wine we did without Santo.” Caterina kicked a rock in the path. Santo had been as much a part of the winemaking process as she had been. Their combined artistry and passion won the competition. And then she thought of Victor Devereaux and his comment about their wine label.
“When I was in Paris, the head of the competition saw the house on our label. He recognized it, but he called it something else. He mentioned a marquis, too. Was this my poppy?” Caterina used the childhood name that Ava had always used when she spoke of her family, although she’d never told her much, she realized.
“Yes, Alexandre-Xavier de Laurette was my father. Your grandfather, your poppy. It hurt so to speak of my parents after they died. They were fine winemakers and descended of an old, noble family. After I left France, it didn’t matter anymore. We were pursuing our American dream.” She waved a hand across the land. “This is our life now. I was determined to do whatever it took to succeed here. And for you to become a true American. I will always be French, but I wanted you to be accepted in our new country.”
They arrived at the processing building adjacent to the cave. The doors were propped open to release carbon dioxide that built up during the fermentation process. They had a ventilation system, but everyone still took precautions.
Standing outside, Caterina shivered and looked around, still feeling uneasy. The sheriff had taken Luca’s partner away, so they had nothing to fear, but she still couldn’t shake the terror she’d gone through yesterday. Caterina followed Ava inside, glancing around the cave.
Caterina brushed against a stack of papers on a table, knocking them to the floor. “Go on, I’ll catch up.” As she picked up the papers, Ava went on ahead of her.
A moment later, a crash broke the morning silence. “Maman, are you all right?” When Ava didn’t answer, Caterina rushed to find her. “Where are you?”
Caterina froze when she entered the room where large concrete vats of red wine were fermenting. On the catwalk that ran above the open vats, Ava stood clinging to a railing, her face white, her eyes filled with terror. Workers used the catwalks to monitor fermenting wine and punch down caps of skin that formed during the process.
Panic struck Caterina, but she tried to stay calm. “Maman, what are you doing up there?” She caught a glimpse of a man’s hawkish profile and rangy frame shadowing her mother.
Ava angled her head, indicating someone behind her. “It’s Luca.”
A laugh rose in the air. “Thought you’d gotten rid of me, didn’t you?” Luca stepped onto the platform behind her mother, a butcher knife gleaming in his hand. “But I know the secrets of Mille Étoiles. Fell right onto the ledge outside of the smuggler’s cave used during Prohibition. People used to hide cases of wine there with rope ladders. Figured the authorities wouldn’t search someplace they couldn’t reach. I found the old mountain climbing equipment in there, too,” he added, boasting. “After all these years, funny how so little changes.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Ava said. “Raphael and the sheriff will be here any moment.”
Luca laughed again. “I doubt it. Why would they be looking for a dead man? I was kicked into the ravine without a second thought. Now it’s time to return the favor.”
Moving gingerly, she climbed the ladder that led to the catwalk.
“Come on up. Join the party,” Luca said. “We’ll make it a family affair. I’ll kill two birds with one stone—or knife, as the case may be.” He tossed the knife from one hand to the other, his expression one of gleeful hatred.
Caterina focused. She stepped onto the first rung of the ladder and hauled herself up, thinking as she climbed. Carbon dioxide was heavier than air and settled to the surface of the vat where it was the strongest. If a person fell in, he or she could quickly black out and drown.
Better Luca than us.
Another step, and she pulled herself up to eye level with the landing.
“Welcome, daughter.” Luca held out a rough, dirty hand to her.
Caterina ignored it. She stood a few feet from him, drawing herself up to his height. She resembled him a little; she had his height and high cheekbones, but that was all. Unflinching, she stared straight into his cold, dead eyes. “You ruined my life, you’re an evil man, and you’re not my father. Now let my mother go.”
Luca’s mouth twisted with maliciousness. “You know I can’t do that.”
Ava gripped the railing. “Caterina, go back. This is between me and Luca.”
Caterina shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”
Luca put a hand over his heart and feigned emotion. “How touching. Ava, did you hear your daughter? How brave she is, the little fool.” As the last word left his mouth, he lunged for Ava with the knife.
Caterina screamed and Ava scrambled away from him.
But Luca was quick. He whipped the knife against the back of Ava’s shoulder. Her shirt fell open, and blood oozed from a long gash. Arching in pain, Ava slipped and fell on the platform. She tried to crawl away from him as he stood over her, laughing.