Catch Me If You Can

by Juliette Cosway

  She smiled directly at him and it warmed him somewhat, but he couldn’t yet bring himself to return it and turned back to the path ahead.

  Later that day, he led them through the well-trodden route to Carson Pass, their crossing point on the Sierra. The passage had risen steadily for twelve or thirteen miles and they would soon be descending into California. The descent ranged for about three miles. When they finally crossed into the place beyond the mountains, he turned occasionally and watched as Eleanor looked toward the changing views with astonished eyes.

  Nothing could prepare the new visitor for the magnificent sight of the more fertile land beyond. She was going to be astonished after the weeks of plains and mountain ranges. The land ahead was fertile, nurtured with the gifts of the heavens. The winds carried warm rain across the state to the edge of the mountain range. Cattle grazed on fine grass. Fruit and barley and wheat would be visible for miles ahead. While he relished the sight as she might see it, Rivers finally mellowed.

  They were going home. He wanted to be beside her when she took in the sights. He turned his mount around and galloped back.

  “Rivers, we are nearly there.” She smiled up at him.

  He nodded and picked up her fingers, kissing them gently.

  Her hair danced around her face in escaping tendrils, her expression full of emotion and awe. Pride welled up inside him and his demons were finally laid to rest.

  “I can see it’s going to be just as you described it to me, a year ago, in Oaklands.” The way she said that and the glistening hint of tears in her eyes made his heart ache. She was obviously thinking of her father and his passage through this gateway, his first sight of the new land. “It’s as if a piece of heaven has fallen here,” she murmured.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied, but he wasn’t looking at the landscape, he was looking at her. When he finally dragged his eyes away, he looked back at the stragglers, waving them in.

  “We’ll stop at the next town to rest and eat.” He looked back at Eleanor and added, “I want us to lay in a real bed tonight.”

  * * *

  The Rutherford homestead backed on to Riverside. They delivered Camellia safely home and Eleanor hugged her mightily, a strong friendship having been forged between them over the course of their time together. They said their goodbyes with promises to visit one another soon. That only left Daniel and Eleanor with Rivers. He’d sent the youngsters onward the day before, instructing the other men to take them directly to Frieda’s.

  Eleanor watched Rivers as he led them down the narrow track on the riverbank, toward his home. He had a withdrawn, thoughtful expression.

  She’d learnt a lot more about him from Camellia. He had a younger brother called Theo. Theo had married since Rivers had left. There was now a young family living there with his maman and his grandfather. They were close neighbors and Camellia often visited with Lucy, Rivers’ new sister-in-law, and the maman, who Camellia described as a formidable lady. Rivers’ father had died tragically, years before, in an accident that had also injured his younger brother. Camellia looked sad, but didn’t enlarge on the story. Eleanor wondered if this was why she’d called him a tortured soul. Was his silence and his loner nature perhaps something to do with this tragedy?

  She left him to prepare his thoughts and gazed at the view around the Sacramento basin, where fine orchard gardens weighed heavy with fruit and fields full of crops approached harvest. He hauled up shortly, and pointed through the orchards to a rambling house sprawled out ahead. Archways leading into shady verandas surrounded every side.

  “Home,” he said, simply.

  He took them to the back of the big house, where they dismounted. Then he led them through a kitchen garden and toward an archway overhung with gnarled leafy vines. There, on the shady veranda, an old man sat in a rocking chair.

  The man stood when he saw the three people walking up the path. He came to the edge of the terrace, and clutched the railing with one hand, the other shielding his eyes for a better look.

  “Is it a mirage?” His voice was thick with emotion.

  “No, Grand-pére, your eyes don’t deceive you.” Rivers walked to him and as he did, the old man’s face lit up. He moved to the top of the steps and reached out his hands to take his grandson in his arms, kissing him heartily on both cheeks several times. Eleanor and Daniel exchanged smiles.

  “Pierre, Pierre my dear boy, I’m grateful to have lived long enough to witness this moment. I can die a content man now.” There were tears in his eyes and as Eleanor watched, she realized that Rivers too was fighting back the emotions.

  A thunder of tiny footsteps approached and they looked round to find a little girl standing by their side. She was dressed in a frothy pale yellow gown, which had been ruined by a huge rip on the sleeve and two green grass stains somewhere around the location of her knees. She had shiny black hair that fell to her waist and those big brown eyes that Eleanor was recognizing to be a family trait.

  “And who might this be?” Rivers asked.

  “I’m Fleur,” she offered, staring up at him. “I thought you were my papa.” Rivers looked to his grandfather for confirmation.

  “This is your niece, my boy. This is Theo’s child.”

  Rivers looked back at the little bundle of shambolic femininity and squatted down to speak to her directly. “Fleur?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m your Uncle Pierre and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  A deep longing made itself known inside Eleanor, a strange feeling of awareness as she watched him talking to the little girl who resembled him.

  “I’m four,” she announced.

  Rivers broke into a smile. “Only four, and already you are such a pretty young lady.”

  The girl beamed, revealing gappy teeth that only seemed to enhance her childish beauty.

  “Goddammit!” The voice rang out, shattering the happy moment.

  Eleanor and Daniel both looked around to see what had to be Rivers’ brother striding down toward the family group. He was similar, but slighter and leaner. He stared at Rivers as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He stopped and pointed at him.

  “Why I ought to run you of this land with a rifle at your back!”

  Rivers rose to his feet.

  Eleanor swallowed hard. She glanced at Daniel, whose eyebrows had lifted in concern.

  Rivers quickly looked over his brother then broke into a grin. “That’s the spirit!” he declared.

  Theo broke into a not dissimilar grin and the two men embraced, chortling loudly, oblivious to the little girl who tried to regain their attention with her constant babble at knee height.

  Eleanor sighed with relief. She’d thought the happy reunion was about to be brought to an abrupt halt, but it seemed the prodigal son was welcomed. The emotion of the moment had taken hold and she pressed her lips together to quell it.

  It was then that she noticed the neatly folded sleeve of Theo’s shirt, pinned up against his shoulder, where his right arm should have been. Camellia had warned her, but somehow the sight affected her more than she thought it might. He resembled Rivers, whom she loved in such depth that she couldn’t begin to assess the impact of such a tragedy, had it happened to him instead.

  “Would this be the reason you have come back to us?”

  Eleanor jumped. She’d not noticed the grandfather approach her side and when he spoke over his shoulder to Rivers it startled her. She looked into the dark, laughing eyes that gazed at her, and smiled. Despite his years, he was a rugged, handsome man who had once been tall and mighty like his grandson.

  “I cannot deny it. Miss Eleanor Craven’s presence in my life has in part contributed to our arrival here today.” Rivers joined him to make the introductions. His eyes teased her.

  Theo reached out his left hand in a clever sideways handshake as soon as he was introduced, taking away any hesitation she might have about what to do. He drew her hand to his lips in a sideways kiss, which tickled her immensel
y. The little girl, Fleur, immediately attached herself to Eleanor, pulling at her hand as the party moved toward the house.

  “Maman will be thrilled,” Theo said. “Let’s surprise her.”

  Rivers grinned eagerly, as if the two always pulled pranks on their maman.

  “She’s in the kitchens, trying to teach Lucy the art of French patisserie making – yet again.”

  Grandfather shook his head and looked at Eleanor, rolling his eyes, immediately linking her in to the joke. Theo was friendly too, and obviously thrilled to see his older brother. Pride took root in her heart.

  Theo led the way, urging Fleur to keep quiet, as they entered into the house. When they reached the kitchen doors, he paused and put his finger to his lips and waved Rivers and Eleanor forward. Eleanor peeped around the doorframe into the massive kitchen, where on one side, two girls in maid’s uniforms were busy chopping vegetables. They shook their heads while looking toward the other side, where another two women stood at the work surface, covered in flour.

  One of the women was petite with auburn hair plaited on top of her head. The other of the woman was tall and strong, dressed in black with silvering hair pulled into a neat bun.

  “No, Lucy, you must tease the pastry,” she instructed, as if appalled at the way the young lady with handling the dough. “Imagine it’s a delicate fabric, the most expensive silk that will fall apart if you crush it. Handle it as if it is your prize embroidery.”

  Her companion giggled and smiled and the older woman laughed too. Clearly the instruction time was enjoyable.

  Theo reached for Rivers and pushed him into the kitchen, waving at the maids and indicating they should keep quiet. The two young women stared at Rivers as if they couldn’t believe their eyes, seeing the man similar in looks to Theo. Eleanor realized they’d probably never seen him before.

  Rivers stepped quietly across the room until he stood behind the two women.

  “I hope you are making brioche,” he said. “That’s my favorite.”

  There was a mighty clunk as the mixing bowl dropped to the surface. The women turned toward the voice, and Eleanor waited, her breath held, as the maman turned to find her long-lost son behind her, casually reaching over to dip his finger into the cake mixture like a naughty little boy.

  Camellia’s description was accurate. Rivers’ mother was beautiful and quintessentially French, with delicately arched eyebrows and the proudest demeanor. Eleanor noticed those dark brown eyes again and smiled. They were as sharp and focused as an eagle as she looked him up and down.

  They all waited in silence for her reaction. She stood still, staring, for what seemed to be an age. Then she blinked and dusted her hands off on her apron. She turned to the two serving girls, who were watching, agog.

  “Annie, we’ll need to put on the second oven and fetch another side of beef from the pantry. My eldest son has seen fit to come home for his dinner, at last.” With that she darted to him and Rivers caught her in his arms, laughing at her remark. “Oh my dear boy, it is good to see you again.”

  They hugged each other tightly and Eleanor noticed the maman quickly brushing away any trace of tears and instead acting as if they had seen him a few days ago, with no recriminations or regrets.

  Everyone poured into the kitchen, which soon became a hive of activity and introductions, with everyone chatting and Maman overseeing proceedings whilst also issuing instructions for all the wine in the house to be opened, and a list of food to be brought from the pantries that grew longer by the minute.

  “Such beautiful eyes, you have, my dear,” she said, when she met Eleanor, and smiled warmly at her, astutely noticing the note in his voice when her son introduced the young woman as her father had.

  Between Fleur and the grandfather, Eleanor and Daniel were seated at the huge table and kept entertained and plied with refreshments. Eleanor watched the family scene from her seat with a deep sense of satisfaction. This was different from where she’d come from and everything she’d known, and she was proud to witness his family reunion. Her heart swelled with pride and love.

  Rivers took time to know his new sister-in-law. He also teased his mother mercilessly about her inability to pass on her cooking skills. Eleanor watched the proceedings without comment, until she overheard the maman ask him how long he was staying.

  “We must be going soon, for Eleanor’s aunt, my employer, is expecting us home soon.”

  “This is in Napa, where you give all our family knowledge to their vines?”

  Rivers chuckled low. “I knew you’d track me down.”

  “I kept my tabs on you, as any mother worth her salt would.”

  Eleanor took a deep breath and stood. “You should stay for a while. Daniel can escort me from here.”

  Rivers looked at her with his eyebrows raised and a deep sense of amusement. He shook his head slightly in chastisement, which would only be visible or make sense to her. His eyes told her he was accusing her of trying to run away from him again.

  How untrue that was, Eleanor reflected.

  “Oh will you, Pierre?” Maman asked. “Surely you can spare us a couple of days, or at least a promise to come back soon.”

  “I promise to come back soon, either way.” He glanced at Eleanor again and smiled. “However, Eleanor should perhaps complete her journey tomorrow and I’ll follow on in a few days.”

  Eleanor smiled. It was a clever, tender gesture, allowing her to complete without him, and it fulfilled the purpose of keeping both women happy.

  Maman nodded approvingly, and returned to supervising the cooking.

  Grand-pére set a basket filled with bottles of wine upon the table. He slowly uncorked the bottles, inhaling the aroma from the cork of each one before carrying the bottles through to the dining room.

  When he returned, he told Fleur to show Daniel her little patch in the garden. Eleanor found herself being led away by Grand-pére. He carried the empty wine basket and took her to a narrow corridor, at the end of which stood a heavy wooden door. “La Cave, our wine cellar, the heart of our home.”

  He pushed the door open. Stone steps descended into the darkness. He lit two lanterns that stood in a niche at the top of the steps, and held them up high to show how deep the staircase went.

  “Will you come down with me and choose a special wine that will bring us more of this good fortune?”

  Eleanor nodded. She was eager, and Rivers needed some time alone with his mother.

  They descended into the darkness and Eleanor watched in awe as the light thrown out by the swinging lanterns revealed the vast, deep cavern, filled from floor to ceiling with row after row of tall shelves, inset with symmetrical diamond divisions, each filled with bottles. She breathed deep the earthy scent. It was entwined with wood and something rich and inviting – the massive barrels of wine.

  Grand-pére set one of the lanterns down on a roll-topped desk that stood near the bottom of the steps, and raised the flame of the other.

  “Our family have been vigneron, wine growers, for centuries. When I came here to America, I brought a small casket of earth from our home in France. Some of it lies on this floor, in the cellars we dug. The rest is at the back of the chateau –- did you notice the older vines there?”

  Eleanor nodded.

  “Those are the oldest, the first grapes that grew here, and I planted them myself.” He gestured for her to follow and led her down through the tall racks that were narrowly separated by small passages. At the end of each row, a ladder was stationed for easy access.

  Eleanor looked up at the shelving as they passed. Each diamond shaped segment of the rack held a slot in which a piece of parchment was inscribed with details. He led her past rows upon rows of wine and at the end of the racks, he gestured over to the wall where a large storage niches been carved into the stones. There, in what appeared to be the most prestigious position of all, was a collection of bottles, each in a separate wooden slot.

  “These are the oldest wines from thi
s land. When these wines were bottled, my hair was as dark as Pierre’s.”

  Eleanor saw something of Rivers’ smile in his face.

  “Now, as you are the special visitor and you have brought our Pierre back to us, you must pick a bottle.”

  “How do I know which one to pick?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps one will beckon to you,” he said gently. “You must choose your own way to find it.”

  Eleanor was tickled. This was obviously an honor that he gave to certain guests. She looked at the bottles.

  “Well, I’ve known Rivers… er, Pierre, for about twelve months.” She rested her hand on the first row then counted across to the twelfth row.

  Grand-pére smiled, nodding at her method.

  “However, of those twelve months I believe we have only been together during five of them.”

  She counted five rows up with her hand. He reached for the slot and pulled out the dusty bottle with an eager expression. He turned the bottle carefully in his hand and blew the dust from the label.

  “Ah, you have chosen well. This is a good wine that will bring us much more good fortune when we open it.”

  He stopped speaking, and cocked his head to one side, as if listening.

  He winked, tapped the side of his nose, then pointed to the stone cellar steps.

  A moment later, Eleanor heard the scrape of the cellar door opening. Light preceded Rivers’ booted legs down the deep, wide steps. She watched as he emerged into the light of the lantern below. He stood at the bottom the steps, his white shirt aglow in the darkness.

  The old man tucked the chosen bottle under his arm and led her back toward the steps, to Rivers.

  “Have I kept Eleanor away from you too long, Pierre?” he asked, chuckling.

  Rivers was unperturbed by his remark, he was indeed looking at her, illumined in the dark cavern by the flickering lamplight. “I must speak to her for a few moments. I feel she’s owed some explanations.”

  She smiled up at him, tentatively.

  “Are you warm enough?” he whispered.

  She nodded, totally focused on him. He looked strong and determined, set against his entire heritage, here in this channel of earth, the channel that his family had carved into their new home. It seemed ancient, nonetheless, as if they had truly brought it with them from France.