by Karis Walsh
More than anything, though, Berit had been upset by the way Tace had been treated whenever she mentioned her brewery. Berit had tried to keep her spirits up and turn the insults into jokes about the people who had spoken them, but she saw Tace’s demeanor gradually fade as the afternoon wore on. Berit had some suggestions that might help Tace. She had no idea how to broach the subject without making Tace feel belittled by her as she had been by the winery staffs and owners. Tace had bluntly called Berit on her attitude toward teaching today, but Berit wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable doing the same in reverse. Were they good enough friends?
Friends? Berit watched the darkening fields as they drove past. She’d touched friends before. Hugs, handshakes, casual brushes of hands or arms. She hadn’t ever felt the intensity of focus that she had experienced when she had done nothing more than hold Tace’s hand and rub her palm. Every nerve ending in Berit had concentrated on the place where skin met skin. She’d let go of Tace and had felt as physically drained and emotionally electrified as if they’d had sex right there on the front seat of Tace’s car.
Berit moved in her seat. There was plenty of room for sex in here. She sighed and looked out the window again, trying to find something to distract her awareness away from Tace, who sat so close to her.
“There’s another one,” Tace said. Her voice sounded weary, but she pointed at a sign for a winery that was just a mile up the road. “Do you want to stop?”
“Do you mean stop at the winery, or stop going to wineries? I hope it’s the latter, because I can’t stand another one of those tasting rooms. I’ve had enough Tuscan charm to last me a few years.”
Tace laughed. “I’m glad you said that. I was beginning to wonder if we’d been to ten different wineries, or to the same one ten times.”
“They’re all beautiful,” Berit said, cautiously approaching the subject she’d wanted to talk about for over an hour now. “The grounds are fabulous, and the wines are excellent. Over and over again. No matter what the people we’ve met have said to you, I can’t believe there isn’t room for a change of pace. A unique artisan brewery with local charm and local flavors, plus an approachable, inclusive atmosphere. You might be just the breath of fresh air this town needs, Tace. That could be your niche.”
“I don’t know. Am I looking for a niche, or do I just need to sell enough beer to make the business marketable? There are hundreds of wineries working together to make this town a destination for a specific group of tourists. I’d be all alone, trying to market a different product to people who aren’t interested in it.” Tace’s voice trailed off. “Do you want to see one of the wheat fields where I worked?”
Berit was surprised both by the change in subject and by how much she wanted to see more of Tace’s world. She nearly made an excuse about her back hurting after all the unaccustomed activity, just so she could get back to the house and lock herself away from Tace and these uncomfortable feelings. She was having to face the fact that teaching might be more important to her than she wanted it to be, and then run the risk of failing miserably at it. Could she handle a relationship with meaning, too? Both would end soon enough, but Berit had planned to leave this town whole and healed again, not heartbroken and ashamed.
The thought of being alone with Tace and prolonging her day off from studies won the internal debate she was having. “I’d like to see it. I won’t have to ride in a combine to get there, will I?”
Tace laughed. “I think we’ll save that experience for another day. We’ll just be on the side of the road, near the edge of the field. You’ll be safe.”
Berit had her doubts about her emotional safety as she watched the sky darken outside the car window. Here, beyond the city limits, the night seemed to drop a curtain over the two of them. She felt the quiet and isolation even while the noise of the engine and the headlights fought against the darkness. Tace pulled off the empty highway and onto a gravel road. She drove behind some trees and parked.
The silence fell like a guillotine once the car was shut off. Berit felt the same juxtaposed sensations of weightiness and expansion she had felt when she’d wandered away from camp while on remote digs. Tace was about to get her wheelchair out, but Berit stopped her.
“Are we going far?”
“No. Just a few yards up this hill, and we should have a great view. Can you walk a little?”
Berit pulled herself to a standing position. She was feeling stronger in small increments, but she was being obediently careful—for once in her life—until she was checked by her doctors in Florida over winter break. She felt good on this soft and beautiful night, however, and she wanted a chance to stretch her legs. As she had expected, Tace came over and offered her arm to help Berit over the ruts and furrows of the bare field. An added bonus.
Berit wasn’t sure what she had been expecting when Tace offered to show her a wheat field. Wheat, she supposed. Dirt. They were only yards away from the backwoods highway, but the little stand of trees separated them from any sign of pavement or civilization. They walked to the top of a gentle hill and Berit got the same disorienting sensation of being in a vacuum, while having the world open up before her at the same time.
Tace spread a blanket she’d gotten out of her trunk on the rough ground and helped Berit lower herself to a seated position. Berit eased back until she was lying down and staring at a carpet of stars above her. The silence filled her head until she thought it might explode from the pressure.
“What a magical place,” she whispered.
“It is,” Tace agreed in a similarly quiet voice. “Why are we whispering?”
“I feel like I’m in a cathedral,” Berit said. She inched her hand along the ground between them until her fingers touched Tace’s and intertwined with them. “What’s the glow over there? Is it lights from the town?”
Tace laughed. “I hate to spoil the romantic mood, but it’s the state penitentiary.”
“Oh, my. Well, we can pretend it’s candlelight. Prisons aside, this is a beautiful place to work.”
“Picture it during the day when it’s over one hundred degrees outside. Add lots of bugs, a smelly diesel-guzzling combine, and whirlwinds of dust.” Tace shifted and her arm came into contact with Berit’s.
Berit nearly gasped out loud at the touch of their bare arms. She needed to distract herself from the exquisite pain of finally being close to Tace and being unsure how to react. The pressure on her back from the dried clods of dirt reminded her of her injury. She still needed to nurse her spine back to health. Even without her back problems, she didn’t want to start anything with Tace—unless, that is, Tace was willing to have a short-term relationship. She didn’t seem the sort. She seemed grounded here, and she’d probably expect nothing less from a lover.
The sky and stars and seclusion out here made Berit want to forget about the past and the future and concentrate on now. If she did, though, the soil beneath her might turn to quicksand and trap her in this place. She pointed to the sky with her free hand.
“Do you know the constellations? I can see Cassiopeia and Ursa Major and Minor, but I’ve never learned the others.”
Tace gestured toward the east, where the sky was nearly pitch blue-black and the stars shone in sharp relief. “There’s Andromeda and Perseus. See the square shape near them, with lines there and there? That’s Pegasus.”
“The winged horse. He was my imaginary friend when I was a girl. I’d sit in a corner of the casino, waiting for my mom to finish work or to lose the last of her cash at poker, and I’d imagine he’d come get me and we’d fly back in time. The sounds of slot machines and people yelling, and the smell of cigarette smoke and gin all faded away while I was back in Ancient Greece with Pegasus.” She sighed at the memory, then returned to the now. To Tace. “Did you ever have a make-believe friend?”
“No…well, not really. I don’t think it counts as an imaginary friend, but I used to pretend my mom was with me. I’d ask her questions about the kids and how to do thi
ngs around the house. She’s the reason I was forced into the role of mother before I was out of elementary school, but she also helped me get through tough times, in a way.”
Berit felt her heart breaking for Tace and the childhood she missed. Berit understood because she hadn’t had a real one, either. She hadn’t had to handle the responsibilities Tace had borne, but Berit hadn’t been nurtured. She’d been left to her own devices most of the time.
“You must have done well with them. Didn’t you say your sister is in graduate school?”
“Chris is working toward her master’s at OSU, in Corvallis, Oregon. She’s studying English literature. She’s a good kid. Very smart and serious about her studies. Kyle, on the other hand, isn’t so serious. He’s charming and funny—you can’t help but love him even though he’s sort of…flaky. He’s been in and out of different colleges and jobs, and now I’m worried he’s following Mom’s tendency to float through life, gambling with his future, not just with money.”
“He’s the reason you got the brewery?”
“Yes. He won it in a poker game, of all things. He had the previous owner sign it over to me, and in exchange I gave Kyle the amount we thought would be the price I could get when I sold the place. Both of us were delusional about how much the brewery was worth.”
“Then,” Berit said. She turned her head and looked at Tace. She looked so beautiful in the pale light from the crescent moon. Her eyes seemed to reflect the stars, and Berit wanted to trace the contours of her profile with her fingertips. “Your brewery might not have been worth much when you took over as owner, but you’ve made improvements, haven’t you?”
“Joseph and I have made a few changes for the better, I think,” Tace said with cautious admission. “We’ve got tap pulls and a sign with our logo. I’m really happy with the hefeweizen—it’s my favorite of the beers because of the flavor, not just because it’s the first recipe I helped Joseph create.” Her voice got stronger and more enthusiastic as she talked. “We’ve made a couple of our seasonals, but that’s not the same as adding a regular to the repertoire. The porter is improving, too, and it’s almost good enough to be sold. Oh, and the property is much more presentable now. It’s nothing like these wineries, but it’s tidy enough.”
Berit pictured Tace coming in the house after a long day at the brewery. “I’ll bet it looks great. You usually come home all sweaty and covered with grass clippings, so you’re obviously working hard there.”
Tace laughed. “Ugh. That doesn’t sound appealing.”
“Are you kidding? Sweat is very sexy.”
Tace shifted and looked at Berit. “I never thought you’d notice.”
“Well, I have.”
Tace propped herself on one elbow, and Berit met her gaze with an open invitation. She wanted Tace to kiss her, here in this place where Tace was connected to the soil and to the stars, but she wasn’t prepared for the way her body responded to the first tentative brush of Tace’s lips against hers. She reached up and laid her hand on the back of Tace’s neck, feeling the tense muscles there as Tace seemed to be holding herself in check. Their mouths moved together gently, but the sensations echoed through the deep stillness of the night.
Berit sighed and opened her lips in an answer to the questioning touch of Tace’s tongue. Tace kept her weight balanced on one elbow and seemed determined not to put any pressure on Berit even though she craved the sensation of their bodies pressed tightly together. Berit had been fighting against pity and assistance since she’d been injured, but now she welcomed the way Tace was moving slowly and carefully with her. Berit wasn’t afraid of being hurt physically, but she wasn’t ready for the emotional vibration she felt between her and Tace.
Tace’s fingers stroked Berit’s hair and left temple while her tongue moved against Berit’s. Berit was losing control of her feelings. She wanted more. She wanted all Tace had to offer. Berit arched toward Tace, trying to get closer, but she felt a twinge in her back and reflexively inhaled with a sharp gasp. She tried to relax again, but Tace was already moving away.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Berit put a hand on Tace’s arm and stopped her apology. “I wanted you to kiss me,” she said. She didn’t know when she’d ever wanted anything as much, but she didn’t say so. Her relationship with Tace was already putting a strain on her ability to remain detached and free. “My back didn’t really hurt, I just felt the muscles tighten a little and I was worried I’d feel pain. But I’m okay.”
“Still, I should have been more careful with you.” Tace lay back again with a sigh.
“If you’re any more careful with me, I’ll be Bubble Wrapped and locked in a padded room.” Berit kept her voice light and teasing, but she was struggling inside between frustration at having the kiss end and relief over the same thing. The arousal Tace had stirred to life in her was relentless and uncomfortable. She needed distance between them, but she was going to be close to Tace and relying on her until they got home again. Berit felt her chest constrict at the thought. She couldn’t even walk away on her own, to give herself space. She was stuck on her back like an overturned turtle, and she’d need Tace’s hand to help her up. She hated the feeling of helplessness, and her growing anger was fueled by her unfulfilled desire for Tace. She lashed out the only way she could, by returning to a topic she knew would cause Tace to pull back emotionally.
“I watched how you changed when you were talking to the people in the wineries today. Can I give you some advice?” Berit had started this line of conversation with the intent of finding distance, but she had really wanted to share her thoughts with Tace. She wanted to help her. Even worse, Berit somehow had come to care whether Tace found success or not.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Tace said, her words clipped. She and Berit had still been holding hands, but Tace let go now.
Berit hadn’t exactly heard a no. “A big part of my job is getting funding and support from people who don’t want to give it to me. I sometimes need permission to excavate in countries that are more concerned about fighting with their neighbors than uncovering relics from the past. Or I need money from universities that would rather see it go to profitable ventures like a new football stadium or medical research lab.”
“Are you trying to compare my brewery to your job and prove how much more important yours is?”
Berit wanted to sit up and emphasize her point with direct eye contact, but her core muscles were still weak, and she was stuck. She only had her words and sharp gestures with her hands if she wanted to convince Tace she wasn’t being mean.
“Of course not. I’m only saying that both of us need to use diplomacy and determination because we’re selling products the world can honestly live without. These wineries don’t need you, but you need their help, just like I need something from the people I approach. I have to make them believe it matters if the university’s press has first rights to publish a book no one but a handful of archaeology professionals and students will read. Or that finding a fire pit from twelve hundred BCE might give a country an advantage in a border war.”
“Does it matter?”
Berit shrugged and felt the rasp of her shoulders against the uneven ground. “It matters to me. I honestly believe what I do in the field is important, and I have to show it when I’m asking for money. When you were adding basil and lavender to your IPA, or when you were talking just now about the changes you’ve made to the brewery, your voice and your face both prove how much you’re enjoying this work. When you talked to the people at the winery, though, you were defeated before you even opened your mouth to speak. You were different, like you didn’t believe anyone would—or should—give you the time of day, let alone advice and support.”
“What if I really don’t believe it?”
Berit heard the doubt creeping into Tace’s voice, and she knew it was directed at Tace herself, not at the brewery. She pretended to deal with the business side of it, not about Tace’s personal sense
of self-worth. “Why can’t you believe it? There are obviously more vital issues in the world today than whether I’ll bring another red-figure vase to light, but I believe it’s important to understand and honor our past. You’re creating an artisanal, local product. Time and care go into making it, and people enjoy drinking it. That’s no less meaningful than anything I do. I’ve seen and heard you. You care more about this brewery than you’ll admit, and it’s time you showed this town how you really feel about it.”
Tace nudged her with an elbow. “Didn’t I deliver this same lecture earlier today? I think you’re plagiarizing.” She sighed, and Berit wasn’t sure if the resignation she heard was due to Tace’s discouragement, or to her acceptance of Berit’s words. Either way, Berit had effectively shut down the physical portion of the evening. Should she celebrate or cry? Maybe both.
Tace got to her knees and reached out to help Berit sit up. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Plus, we need to get you off the ground because it’s getting cold. Time to go home.”
Berit walked slowly back to the car with Tace’s arm wrapped loosely around her waist. Berit was ready to go, but she had no idea where home was for her. A dirty tent pitched on the sand in another new country? The rooms from which she’d ousted Tace? Berit had no idea, but she was weary and a little sore. Tonight she’d settle for a comfortable bed, and let the question of home fade away while she slept.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tace was jolted out of a restless sleep early Saturday morning by a crashing sound coming from the kitchen.
“Tace? Come down here!” Berit’s voice called to her from the bottom of the stairs.
She was out of bed and running down the steep, narrow staircase before she was fully aware of what was happening. She pictured Berit lying in a heap on the kitchen floor, her wheelchair tipped on its side. Instead she found Berit fully dressed and smiling, holding the two saucepans she’d been banging together.