Thoughts intruded from his old life while he worked, but he forced them away by concentrating on measuring and scoring glass. He could not touch the past. He was afraid to consider the future. Living in this day and this moment must constitute his outlook, taking pleasure from his solitary life as an aspiring glass artist. In less than a week, he should receive a rare call from his twin brother, Cristo. The thought brought him comfort.
On Wednesday, Callie and her daughter Susannah traveled up to her uncle’s Oregon winery for their annual summer sojourn. Her husband, John Henry, planned to join them on the weekend. However for these two days before he arrived, they planned to enjoy their time together while basking in the kind attentions of her aunt and uncle. She savored the way her uncle’s memories of his brother, who had been her father, gave her a sliver of her late parents to keep with her. Callie felt so eager to be where she felt loved and free that her escape was tinged with guilt. John Henry had long ceased to be the man she slavishly admired as a student ten years before.
Her first allegiance was to her daughter. She stayed in her oppressive, disturbing and at times verbally brutal relationship because she thought Susannah needed her father. Sometimes now John Henry directed his belittling and outright nasty comments not only at herself but at Susannah as well. Even though she owed her husband her fidelity, her debt of gratitude must be paid by now. A change had to be made, no matter how hard.
She desperately needed to believe she possessed the courage and fortitude to carry out her plan. She brushed her hair to fall across her shoulders, straight and dark like a bay horse’s tail banged in a crisp line. Then she tapped on a little make-up to mask the smudges under her eyes. She had lost weight in the last year, and her face was haggard from too many nights of poor sleep as she worried about her marriage. Her best failed to measure up to her husband’s expectations. Nothing ever seemed good enough for him.
She stopped to remember him in her student days when he taught one of her art history classes in her senior year of college. As her professor he struck her as handsome, entertaining, knowledgeable and scholarly. He was thinner back then, without his drinker’s paunch and bloated faux bonhomie. In the classroom and on campus, he projected the image of an intellectual professor. She had worshiped him.
However even early in their lives together, John Henry had wanted pleasures a man should not demand of a young woman as innocent as she had been. She had desired so much to please him and in her unworldly way she thought what he asked for must be the way lovemaking proceeded between a man and a woman. Over the years, his penchant for lascivious sex had continued until she became so debased she refused to participate. Even now after not having had sex with him for over a year, their life together struck her as all wrong. He besmirched her womanliness with his demands. His last attempts had resulted in his failure to perform, which he had blamed on her as he did everything wrong in his life, including his lack of advancement in his professional life and his seeking solace in drinking.
Before melancholy took hold, Callie rejected the repulsive recollections of their intimacy while she trotted downstairs, stopping in the spacious sun-strewn kitchen for a mug of the coffee her uncle left on the warmer. The rich brew of fresh ground beans laced with a little cinnamon signaled morning and home to her. She splashed in cream and a half spoonful of sugar, stirred and scuffed along in her slippers through the big living room and down the hall. When she tapped at the open door of his office, her Uncle Rick peered over his glasses at her.
“Thought I might see you this morning,” he said in his firm voice. A thin, muscular man, he was aging into what might be called wiry.
“Guess I’m fairly transparent,” she said.
“At least to me.” Whenever he spoke to her, his voice carried a tender tone with affection in the vowels and kindliness in the consonants.
Callie took a deep breath to make herself sound more like a decisive woman and less like a scared teenager. “When John Henry is here, I expect to give him an ultimatum. He must stop his excessive alcohol consumption and go for counseling.”
“Or?” Rick asked, raising both eyebrows.
“I will leave him and take Susannah with me.” Even though her voice quavered with uncertainty, she said the words out loud in hopes the small statement could transform into reality. Over the last years, her spouse’s denigrating condescension had eroded her sense of worth.
“That is what you need to do. He’s edging deep into alcoholism. What if he won’t take action?”
“I will pack and leave,” Callie said, her voice coming out thin and reedy.
“I’ll come down if you need my help.”
Callie nodded. “You’ve been through your marriage ending with your first wife. How hard was it to move out and carry on?”
“Hard to leave my kids, but easy to move forward in a new life. The relief I felt buoyed me up. For this change, Callie, you are going to need a core of iron. Remember to look forward, not backward.”
“Am I wrong not to stick with my marriage? I made a vow to stay for better or worse.”
“Damn malarkey from a bygone age. You have every right to a good life and so does your daughter. You and Susannah deserve happiness."
“I know,” she whispered.
“You will always have a home here when you want and for as long as you want." He stopped speaking to let what he said sink in.
A little hope stole into her heart. He treated her more like his child than either of his two grown children from his first marriage.
"Now give me a hug and let’s enjoy these next two days. Sassy is taking you and Susannah off to a fancy spa up in Portland, followed by lunch and shopping. I’m going to meet you all for dinner. Tomorrow I want to tour the winery with you and talk about a few changes here.”
She went to hug him. Unhappiness and tension might dominate her life, but she was grateful for her Uncle Rick and Aunt Sassy. Even through his grief at the loss of his brother, he had comforted her during those black days after the death of her parents. They had been mowed down in an automobile accident by a tractor trailer on I5 south as they drove home from a weekend in Seattle. She still remembered his face when he took the call and how he had walked over to tell her that her parents were no more. Tears welled in her eyes, and she gave him an extra squeeze.
Chapter 2
Mathew expected to enjoy the upcoming the Sunday lunch get-together at their neighbors, Rick and Sassy Lindquist, following Steve and Ivy’s return from Norway. The party would have the bonus of seeing their niece, Callie, who he had heard was up visiting from California. He had talked with her a few times before at a wine tasting and at her Uncle Rick’s house. While his knowledge of her was limited, he approved of Callie’s eye-catching allure, her honest gaze and what he understood of her character. Whenever he thought about a woman to share his life, her face floated into his mind. Callie, short for the Greek ‘Calista’, meant beautiful and in her distinctive way she was. Just too darn bad she was married to a drunken cad.
Pulling a cabled navy cotton sweater over his white oxford shirt, he smoothed down his jeans and slid on polished cordovan tassel loafers, hoping not to appear too informal. From his rooms on the lower level of Steve and Ivy’s house, Mathew walked upstairs to find Ivy ready to go. In her denim slacks and a whisper of a pink silk blouse, Ivy retained her femininity. Steve strode out in a pair of twill pants with a sharp crease and a crisp white and red striped shirt worn open at the throat. When he saw Ivy, his changeable fjord-blue eyes glowed with warmth. He smiled down at her and stopped to pull her close. Ivy tossed her keys to Mathew. The three of them departed through the conservatory, setting the alarm system as they went.
Once at the party they sipped Rick’s good pinot noir, sampled the hors d’oevres Callie and her daughter handed around and talked with the vintners and neighbors at the gathering. Mathew found himself turning and moving to watch Callie. He wandered over a few times to chat with her. She tended to speak in such a soft to
ne he inclined his head or took a step forward to be near enough to her to distinguish her words over the surrounding chatter. Closeness to Callie delighted him.
With Sassy serving platters of spicy fajitas and tacos on the clay-tiled portico at the front of the house, the lunch celebration became light and fun. Mathew maneuvered around until he found Callie sitting with her daughter Susannah while they ate some lunch.
“How long are you here for?” he asked, pulling over a chair to sit with them.
“A week for all of us and maybe the two of us will stay on longer,” Callie said. Her daughter grinned at her and shook her head to confirm. “Susannah and I love it here. This used to be my home after my parents died.”
Callie glanced around the room and frowned. Mathew turned to see her husband refilling his glass of red wine, taking a long swallow and topping it up again.
“Would you ever consider moving back?”
“John Henry is committed to his career at Berkeley, but . . .” Callie said, her voice trailed off as she gazed at her daughter who studied her, not missing a word.
Mathew wanted to ask what the ‘but’ meant and yet it would be too awkward with Susannah listening. Why did this woman, this married woman, have such a strong effect on him? He had met troubled women before. Callie’s innate sweetness made him want to protect her, even as he wanted to hold her lithesome body and erase the troubles that flitted across her face when she gazed at her husband. He believed in marriage and was not a home-wrecker. On the other hand, if Callie wanted to end her marriage would he be wrong to help her?
Standing with Steve and Ivy after chowing down a big plateful, Mathew found himself watching Callie as she circulated through the group with a tray of champagne flutes for a toast to summer. She fit well into this vineyard environment and she was very close to her Uncle Rick and Aunt Sassy. He wondered how she could bear living so distantly in California.
Rick’s vineyard set a standard for the quality of wines it produced. They were delicate yet full wines known for their subtle nuances. Like Rick, the wines his vineyards produced had no pretentions. Rick was a self-made man who had founded several businesses, grew them and sold them for high dollar values. Mathew suspected that the legacy he inherited from his father was matched by Rick’s personal wealth.
Mathew turned his attention back to Callie when she stopped nearby to chat with some neighbors.
Her husband stood near his left side. Following Mathew’s gaze, John Henry said, “She’s not the temptress you might envision.”
“Pardon me?” Mathew asked, not believing he heard the man correctly.
“I said, my wife is not the temptress you might envision. Not very sensual and not at all venturesome,” John Henry said with a sneer.
“Your comments are unwelcome and inappropriate.” Without thinking, Mathew squared himself for a confrontation.
Rick spun around. “John Henry, put down your glass and take a long walk in the fresh air.”
Without even a glance at Rick, Callie’s husband said in the loud voice of a man whose alcohol levels exceeded his sense, “You might think those long legs of hers would make her a sex goddess. However she fails to inspire.”
“Stop right now,” Mathew said. “A man should not disparage his wife.”
Undeterred, John Henry said, “Someone like you might prefer her languid disinterest. Why don’t you give her a try?”
While not a man to suffer from fits of temper, John Henry’s remarks caused a response so intense Mathew’s emotions took control. Unaccustomed wrath surged through him at the insults to Callie.
Time slowed. He stepped forward and transferred his glass from his right hand to his left. His knuckles clenched. His right arm rose to arc through the air until it hit John Henry’s jaw. When his fist landed, John Henry’s face registered surprise. His head moved backward, followed by his shoulders, his torso, his hips and his legs, and he fell kerplunk on a sturdy wooden chair, bouncing off the arm and into the seat where he sat stunned.
Mathew’s arm dropped to his side as he regarded John Henry with a mixture of satisfaction and horror. He belted the prick of a man with a robust right hook. A little blood trickled from the corner of John Henry’s mouth.
Time sped up again. Steve jumped in front of Mathew, locking his arms to his sides. Rick grabbed John Henry, pulled him to his feet and hustled him into the house. Steve remained with Mathew, regarding him sternly yet with respect when he said. “I think you should let Ivy drive us home. Give an apology to Sassy on our way out.”
As they left, Mathew glanced back over his shoulder at Callie as she hastened after Rick and John Henry. When she peeked over at him with a worried expression, a little smile curved the corners of her refined lips. No matter what the man said, Mathew was disappointed in himself that his rage over the insults to Callie hijacked his judgment. Why did she stay with the man? A sweet, feminine woman like Callie should be loved and protected, not disparaged.
Three hours later back at Spook Hills, the kitchen overflowed with the tang of the homemade meatballs and spaghetti sauce Ivy simmered in the kitchen. Scenting the air with an earthy essence, the fragrance of basil, thyme and oregano floated through to the living room where Steve and Mathew hovered over a game of Scrabble. The rat-tat-tat of the heavy brass doorknocker interrupted their concentration. Since they expected Lenny to join them that evening, opening the door to discover Sassy and Rick startled Mathew.
“I am sorry,” he said shamefacedly.
“Don’t be. I wanted to belt the guy myself today and many times before,” Rick said, giving Mathew a little mock tap on the jaw. “Pompous, drunken professor. I crammed his stuff in his suitcase and put him on a plane back to San Francisco. He is not welcome at our home unless he sobers up, apologizes to us and treats Callie right. Little hope of his becoming a decent man.”
“Is Callie upset?” Mathew asked.
“About you? Don’t think so. She may drop by with Susannah. She gave John Henry an ultimatum to check into rehab and to seek counseling. She’s to go back in a week to check on him.”
“I’m not a man prone to irascibility. The punch came out of I don’t know where,” Mathew said shaking his head at himself, still puzzled by his uncharacteristic behavior.
Sassy reached up, kissed him on the cheek and whispered. “It came from your heart, making it lovely to see.”
They turned into the living room when Steve called out, “Hey look who’s here! Entertaining get-together today. We enjoyed the food, wine and company even with our bit of drama.”
“The drama made the festivities extraordinary to us!” Rick said with a satisfied grin as he turned and clapped Mathew on the shoulder.
Ivy came in from the kitchen, inviting them all to stay for dinner as she wiped her hands on her bright red apron. Mathew’s spirits lifted further when Callie arrived with Susannah about a half hour later. Callie’s face showed strain. Nevertheless like her aunt, she kissed Mathew on the cheek and whispered soft words of appreciation. Right afterward Lenny walked in from where he lived in a trailer near the barn.
Overhearing that Lenny liked to play backgammon, Susannah led him to a small drop-leaf cherry table by the window set up with a leather games board. The late afternoon sun streamed over them, but the fresh breezes flowing through the house kept the air comfortable. Susannah seemed to trust Lenny innately as the two of them became engrossed in their game. Her little nine-year-old brow furrowed in a cute way when she assessed a move. Crusty and grizzled as an old bobcat, Lenny sat across from her more pleased than Mathew had ever seen him.
Shortly before seven Ivy came out of the kitchen, “Mathew, will you take the dogs out for a walk? They finished their suppers.”
“I’ll help,” Callie said, jumping up to go with him. “What are their names?
“Cleo and Harry.”
As they stepped outside, Mathew went first with the corgis pushing past him. As had become his habit since being spied on by the intruder the week b
efore, he paused to survey the surrounding hillsides before stepping aside to let Callie join him. No additional signs of anyone watching him or Spook Hills had turned up, but Mathew continued to act on the side of caution.
“What’s the trailer for?” Callie asked, pointing to the open doors of the old barn.
“Lenny,” Mathew replied. “He’s living out of a suitcase for a time, but wanted to be on his own. If he decides join us full-time at Spook Hills, we’ll have to find more permanent housing for him.”
“How come he’s not in the house?”
Mathew shook his head, “Lenny is a bit of a loner. Always has been. He stayed with us for a night, but the next day he wanted his own digs, such as they are.”
They walked out to head up to the little walnut grove where Steve scheduled the contractor to begin work on the tree house he designed for Ivy. On either side of the grassy path, the neatly planted rows of grape vines bowed almost sensually along the contours of the hilly landscape. Each row and each plant made Mathew proud.
“Callie, sorry for punching your husband. He made derogatory statements about you. Before I could stop myself, I knocked him over into a chair.”
Callie leaned towards him and said with more firmness than usual in her voice. “John Henry’s severe alcohol problem impacts everyone around him. You defended me, and I appreciate it. ”
New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) Page 2