"Can you hold for just a moment?" he'd asked the reporter on the phone. "Good?" he asked Isabella.
"We're there with everything but the Mourvèdre," she'd told him.
"The guys will be here tomorrow. You ready to get this done?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," she'd replied, a broad smile on her face.
He'd returned to his phone call, feeling more eager and enthusiastic than he could remember feeling in the past few years.
Jonathan walked down the row behind the backs of the men crouched low, cutting bunches from the vines with quick efficiency. They used sharp round blades, and the grapes that were felled were put into a lug—a bin that each worker kept on the ground in front of him. Tractors with huge bins on the back were parked at the end of each row being worked, and when the lugs were full they got dumped into those. When the tractor bins were full, they were moved and dumped into the crusher, and eventually to the fermentation tanks.
He found Isabella kneeling beside the other workers, cutting grapes into her own lug. Her hair was pulled back tightly, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"That as fast as you can work, DaSilva?" he teased.
"Hey, I don't see you helping," she said, pausing to squint up at him.
"We ran out of blades."
"I just happen to have an extra." She handed him a small curved knife.
"Great," he laughed.
"Hey, even if you only cut a ton, that's one less ton that you have to wait to have brought in," she reminded him. A good vineyard hand could cut two tons a day or more, and most were adept at sorting the grapes in the vineyard, leaving behind any that weren't ripe or contained rot or other potential imperfections that could lessen the quality of the wine.
"I'll help out, don't worry," he told her. "I have one more interview this afternoon for a northern California magazine. Would you come in for that? They want to meet the winemaker."
"Jon," she paused in her work and looked up at him again. "You're just as credible a winemaker as I am. We made that blend together." She looked frustrated.
"But the job should be yours." He motioned for her to stand up.
She stood slowly, stretching her back and rubbing her hands on her pants. She looked tired.
"I want you to accept the job. I want to know that you'll stay on."
"I can't promise that right now," she said, her face unreadable. "I'm here through this harvest and crush. I don't know what happens after."
"But where would you go, Iz?"
"That's not a conversation we can have right this moment," she said.
"Okay." He walked away from her then, his head spinning. They'd been so happy at the festival, but she hadn't promised to stay then, either, had she? Jonathan didn't understand, couldn't fathom what was in Isabella's head. He knew that she had nowhere else to go. Why wouldn't she stay?
Jonathan shook his head, trying to clear the feeling of rejection that was flooding him, making him feel like a small boy, powerless to get what he wanted.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Isabella
Isabella tried to focus on the work at hand, but her mind kept returning to the conversation with Jonathan, and her work was slowing noticeably. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, but she couldn't commit to staying at Château Sauvage indefinitely.
She couldn't put her finger on her exact reasons, and that is why she'd been unable to explain them to Jonathan. But she knew that every time she trusted in something, in someone, she ended up on her own anyway. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. She knew that the feelings of abandonment she had came from her earliest childhood, and she also told herself that she had no right to feel abandoned when she'd had a family that loved her so deeply for so many years. But then they'd all left her. Maybe not willingly, but they were gone either way.
Isabella looked up around her. As it was right now, she was alone, and she was fine. If she remained alone, complete in herself, then nothing else that happened in her life would have the power to hurt her again. She knew that staying here, letting herself love Jonathan—something she admitted she already did—would make her vulnerable again to the whims of the universe. And that universe seemed hell-bent on her isolation and unhappiness. She didn't want to lose him. And that might mean that she could never have him.
When the sun had set and it was too dark to continue, Isabella went back to the house after thanking the crew and promising to meet them again at first light. Her back was stiff and her arms ached, but she felt happy, at least with the progress in the vineyard.
Jonathan sat in his study at the desk, a small pool of light illuminating the ledger in front of him.
"I'm sorry I missed the interview," she told him.
"It's okay, Iz…" he trailed off. "Listen. I need to ask you something. I guess I don't understand what you're thinking. I thought everything was so good." He stood and walked to where she stood.
She could see the confusion and hurt on his face, and reached a tired hand up to smooth his cheek, as if she could wipe away his concern.
"Things are good. They're good out there in the grapes, and they're good between us."
"Then why won't you stay?" he asked.
"I just…I don't know if I can."
He wrapped his arms around her then and pulled her to him.
She felt the warmth of his body and the tight resolve she'd held onto threatened to uncoil. Being near him felt more than good, it felt right. But the fear that gripped her was stronger. She bowed her head against him, took a deep breath and then stepped away.
"Jon, I'm filthy. I'm exhausted. I need to shower and sleep. We start again at four-thirty."
"You haven't even eaten." His voice was quiet, small.
"I'll grab a quick bite before bed," she said, turning to walk away. She couldn't look at him again. She was too tired to fight the rush of emotions that his eyes caused in her.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Jonathan
Jonathan helped with the rest of the harvest when he could. He watched Isabella, working harder than any of the paid laborers, and couldn't help but feel proud of her. She was so strong, so determined.
But the confusion he felt over whatever lay between them was eating him alive. She came in late each night, sometimes offering him a kiss before bed. There was still a sweetness between them, but she was keeping the flaming passion pressed down, and Jonathan found himself having to fight not to push her for more. Now that he knew she wanted him, he couldn't understand what might be keeping her from his arms, from his bed, from promising to stay in his life.
Unable to stand the mystery any longer, he decided to confide in Vicki one morning after Isabella had already gone into the rows. She sat in the kitchen, feeding Thomas.
"Where's Charlotte?" he asked.
"She had a date today with Andrew, so I agreed to watch Thomas."
"Wow, they're moving fast."
"No they're not. It's just a date," Vicki laughed.
Jonathan sat down and stared at the tabletop.
"Isabella won't agree to take the job."
Vicki paused in her feeding, looked up at him. "Have you made it formal? Paperwork and everything?"
"No. But I'm not going to draw up papers if she isn't interested in the job." He shook his head and spread his palms on the surface of the table, looking down at his fingers.
"Maybe it's not the job that she isn't sure about," Vicki said thoughtfully.
"That definitely doesn't make me feel better," Jonathan said.
"No, that's not what I mean. Listen, Jon. She told you about her childhood, and she told you that she's just lost her whole family. She's completely alone in the world."
"No she's not. I'm right here," Jon felt the color rise to his face.
"Right, but can you blame her for wanting some kind of definition? For needing to know what exactly this is all about?"
"What the hell do you mean? She knows what's between us. She feels it too, I know she does."
"B
ut what is it, Jon? What do you want from it?"
"What do you mean?" Jonathan was confused and becoming irritated. "I want her to stay, make wine, raise a family."
"That. Exactly." Vicki smiled at him. "Have you told her that?"
"One thing at a time, Vick. If she doesn't even want to stay here…"
"Maybe she does, but maybe making wine isn't the main reason."
"Vicki, I'm tired. And clearly, I'm an idiot. Just tell me what to do. If Isabella leaves…" he shook his head, feeling like tears might be close. The idea of Isabella leaving made him feel hollow, hopeless.
"Then give her a good reason to stay." Vicki was holding her own hands out on the tabletop, fingering the blazing diamond on her left hand, pushing it around so that it caught the overhead light and gleamed.
"I've tried to give her reasons. Dammit, I love her, Vick, isn't that a reason?"
"Big Brother, I do love you. But you are so dense." She took off her ring and held it in front of his face. "Give her something to show her that there's a reason to stay."
Revelation lit Jonathan's mind as the ring gleamed before his eyes.
"Oh." He said. Suddenly he felt something click. "Of course. You're right." He knew she was right. He jumped up from the table and pulled his sister into an embrace, then practically ran down the hall to his room to get his wallet.
Jonathan and Vicki met again at the table for dinner, and Jonathan confided his plans in his little sister, who shared his conspiratorial grin as they ate.
Charlotte came in, her cheeks flushed and a smile on her face as well.
"I'm so sorry that took so much longer than I thought it would," she said.
"What'd you guys do?" Vicki asked.
"Well, a couple things, actually." Charlotte looked excited. "Listen, I know that I just met Andrew. And I don't want you to think that this is about him, because it's not."
Vicki and Jonathan exchanged glances.
"I got a job in town," Charlotte said. "I'm going to be working at the bank."
"That's great, Charlotte!" Vicki said.
"And I got an apartment, too," she continued. "I can't stay here with you forever, but I need to tell you how much it has meant to have this time to think. Thank you so much."
Jonathan couldn't help but feel sad at the prospect of Thomas leaving.
"You don't look happy for me, Jon," Charlotte said.
"No, no. Of course I am. I am really happy for you, and proud of you. I guess I'm just gonna miss you. And Thomas."
Charlotte looked sad for a minute, then the smile returned. "Well, I was thinking. Maybe you could be his godfather? I mean, if you're willing." She looked uncomfortable suddenly, like she'd said too much.
Jonathan released a loud whoop that he didn't even feel coming, and was on his feet in seconds. He picked up Charlotte and spun her around.
"Is that a yes?" she asked.
"An enthusiastic one!" he told her.
He helped Isabella finish up the harvest that night. She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, so he sent her inside to bed while he dismissed the workers for the day. It was almost over, from what he could see. Maybe one more day. He'd be out in the vines with them all day on the last day, helping them finish up. And when it was over, he had plans of his own.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Isabella
The entire initial harvest had taken two weeks, working morning, noon and night. Jonathan paid out the workers and reminded them that he'd be calling them back in a few weeks when the rest of the grapes were ready.
Isabella and Jonathan stood by the crusher, watching the trucks pull away and basking in the sense of completion of a difficult task.
"We did it," Jonathan said, turning to face her.
"We did," she agreed. She looked up into his face, unable to help but return his smile when she saw the dimples in his cheeks, the light in his eyes. The sun was fading behind him, and he was more handsome than she'd ever seen him, with dirt smudged across his face and arms.
He took her hand and they stood staring into the crusher for a few minutes, watching the grapes pulled down into the turning blades beneath them.
The sky took on an orange and red cast, the top of the sun hanging over the rows of vines stretching out behind them to the horizon. The crushing grapes released a musky rich scent into the air that mingled with the late summer heat. Isabella took it all in, wondering if she'd ever felt happier than she was now, standing in the spot she most wanted to be, surrounded by her life's work. With Jonathan.
As she had this thought, he pressed her palm tighter and she looked up at him again.
"Isabella," her name was a breath.
She turned to face him with a raised eyebrow and shock flooded her when he dropped to his knee in front of her.
"Isabella," he said again, his voice louder now. "I have been thankful for you every day since you arrived at Château Sauvage. I think you know that you saved the winery that my father built. You saved our business. But I don't know if you realize that you saved something else. You saved me.
"I didn't know how lost I was before you found me. I hadn't known what I was looking for until I found you.
"Your presence here, your grace and your intelligence, have changed everything. You've changed the way I feel about what is possible in life. And I can't imagine life without you."
He paused, looking up into her face.
Isabella stood dumbstruck, her body vibrating with surprise as she gaped at him, kneeling before her on the ground, pouring his heart out.
"Isabella DaSilva," he continued. "I love you. With all my heart. And I can't imagine a life without you. I don't care if you take the job as winemaker. I don't care what you do, as long as you don't leave. Isabella, will you please stay? Will you marry me?"
He pulled a box from his pocket then, opening it to display a ring that looked almost identical to the one her mother had worn. It was beautiful.
She stared down into his open face, and tried to memorize it. She wanted to remember the way the setting sun lit his dark hair, the way the dark stubble was coming in around his masculine jaw, the way the eyes glowed and danced when he looked at her. She felt a warmth ignite in her chest and push slowly outward, filling her body with a happiness she didn't know she was capable of.
Isabella dropped to her knees and put a hand on either side of the handsome face before her.
"Jonathan," she said, her voice a whisper as she fought off tears. "I love you, too. And yes, I'll stay. But you better damn well believe I'm gonna be winemaker!"
He laughed and pulled her into his arms.
She felt truly alive, there in the warmth of his embrace and his love, for the first time since she'd heard the news of her family. She felt awakened, transported, and grateful. She looked up at him, and softly kissed the full wonderful lips of her future husband beneath the glow of the setting California sun.
<<<<>>>>
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRT
Y-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
A Rare Vintage (Wine Country Romance) Page 15