In the Vineyard Ch. 04

They were finally getting around to cards, but Miles couldn't concentrate. He lost a few dollars quickly and took himself out of the game. He had nearly finished the bottle of wine by that time. One of Jimmy's friends presented a joint, and started to pass it around. Brandon and Jimmy each turned it down, saying they weren't interested.

"Come on, Miles, " said the friend, goading him. "It'll make you feel better." And, Miles was starting to feel things spinning. He'd made the mistake of following up a several glasses of wine with another shot of Scotch, and been too preoccupied to eat nearly enough to counter the alcohol. So, he took the joint, trying to remember the last time he'd seen one of these - his own college years, likely. He puffed, and smelled the familiar perfume-like odor. It did settle things down, for a few minutes. Miles excused himself after a hand was dealt and went into the bathroom.

After about 20 minutes, Jimmy found Miles passed out on the floor of the bathroom, but couldn't get him to move. Finally, with the help of the others, he carried Miles upstairs and put him to bed. They resumed playing cards, Jimmy was down about twenty dollars and wanted to get it back. They played on into the early hours of the morning. At one point, shortly after 1 a.m., Miles came stumbling down the stairs, and went into the kitchen for a drink of water. On his way past the card game, he stopped for a minute and had another shot of Scotch. He stopped at the couch and laid down.

The card game broke up just after 4. Miles was sleeping soundly and snoring. Jimmy didn't disturb him, planning to come back later on Friday to help with the clean up. He cracked a window in the kitchen to draw some of the smoke and food odors, and quietly departed.

Miles woke with a throbbing headache. He looked at the clock. 7 o'clock. He went upstairs and got into bed. He had left this morning without plans, and it looked as though he would spend it trying to sleep.

Ana was considering her wine search on Thursday morning when the telephone rang.

"Hello, " she said, expecting Greg.

"Ana, I'm worried about you." It was her mother. Nothing like subtle, Anna thought.

"Hello, Mother. How are things?"

"Ana, Greg called your father this morning. He was quite upset."

"I'm sorry he bothered Daddy about it," she said, curtly. One thing she really couldn't stand was the fact that her parents seemed to continually be involved in anything to do with she and Greg.

"Ana, he really loves you."

Ana thought for a minute before replying. "Mother, Greg and I need some space. We never really broke up. And it doesn't help matters that he involves you in our business. You're my parents, and I don't go running to you every time we have a disagreement. I really resent the fact that Greg does!"

"Ana, honey, we're all concerned. We think you might need some help."

"Help with what?"

"Ana." Her mother paused. "We know you've been under a great deal of stress lately. Greg truly cares about you. And he seems to think, in your current state that you are vulnerable. He is especially concerned that you might get involved with a married man!"

Ana almost laughed out loud. Greg, scaring her parents with talk of Todd Formby. What a dirty trick. "Mother, I know who he's talking about, and believe me, there is no chance whatsoever of anything happening. I can't believe that Greg even suggested it!"

"Ana," her mother continued, "What about this Miles person? Greg says that he has a reputation for taking advantage of women."

"Greg, again, doesn't know what he's talking about. " Her parents really liked Greg. It was difficult to overcome that. Ana tried another tactic. "Mother, Greg is just upset because I told him I needed some space. He's just acting jealous."

"Ana, we think maybe that you should see someone."

It took a minute for this to sink in. Ana initially thought that her mother meant that she should date. But she began to suspect another meaning.

"What, you mean a professional? A therapist?"

"Well, honey, you can't deny that you are a little...edgy these days. We think it might be for the best. Of course, if money is a concern, your father and I will gladly help out. And Greg knows someone..."

That was it for Ana. "Mother, I'm not crazy. Or going crazy. Please, please don't just take everything Greg Romano says as gospel. I just want some breathing space." She tried to think of a way to resolve her parents' worry easily. "Mother, I'm not ruling out the thought of Greg and I getting back together. I just wasn't ready to get engaged last night. I would like to explore my career options and start to feel better about myself first."

"But honey, with Greg, you don't need to work. He wants to start a family." Ana could hear the tension lessening in her mother's voice. Her approach was working.

"Mother, can't you understand? I wouldn't feel good about myself if I agreed to let Greg take care of me at this point. I need it to be my choice, not a desperation thing."

"Well, Ana, maybe you know best right now. We'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Again a dilemma. "I'm sorry, Mother, I can't. I made some plans with my girlfriends to do something Saturday night. I can't let them down." Not exactly a lie, she thought, but she still felt bad. "But, maybe I'll come up on Sunday."

"We'd love to see you, darling. Please take care. And call me, one way or another, on Sunday."

"I will."

"Ana." Her mother's voice sounded different. "Ana, I think I understand. How you feel about Greg, I mean. We just want the best for you, honey. If you need to take your time, you should. You have the rest of your life to be an old married lady." Ana's mother laughed at this. "But, remember, honey. Its not such a bad thing to have a good and successful man." Ana's father had always done well in business. While they weren't exactly wealthy, the Palmers didn't ever lack anything. They had nice cars, nice homes, nice vacations, and Ana's parents paid for her education at a private college. "Maybe we pushed you too hard with Greg, in the early years. Maybe you need to sow your wild oats, so to speak. " Her mother paused. This was obviously difficult for her. "if you feel that you must, please be careful. These Prince Charming types aren't always what they seem. And, remember, Greg will always be there, in the end. Just, please be discreet. He would be crushed if he knew.

Ana almost laughed out loud. Her mother was giving her permission to have an affair, as long as it didn't impact her relationship with Greg.

"I'll see you soon, mother. Don't worry about me. I'll do the right thing."

"Bye, honey. Your father and I love you very much."

"I love you, too." Ana put down the phone and sighed with relief. That wasn't quite as bad as she'd feared. The phone rang again and she hesitated before answering.

"Hello."

"What's up?" It was Veronica.

"Oh, not much. Other than the fact that Greg Romano tried to propose to me last night, and when I said no, he went running to my parents."

Veronica sounded surprised. "Oh, my god! What did you say to him? What reason did you give him? Does he know about you and Miles?"

"Vern, at this point there is no 'me and Miles.' So, no, I didn't tell him anything other than that I need some space. And I told my mother the same thing. I just can't believe that he has to involve my parents in everything!"

"Well, the reason I called is to see if you're getting it all together for Friday. Do you need any help? Is everything going OK?"

"Other than finding the spectacular bottle of wine, everything's just great."

"Can't help you there, we're pretty much margarita drinkers, here. Wait, in fact we do have some old black raspberry wine that Chris' father made. But take my word for it, you won't impress anyone with that!"

Veronica's good humor was contagious. Ana started to feel more relaxed. "I'm sure I'll get it together."

"Mary and I can't wait for details. How early on Saturday can you call?"

"I'll let you know," Ana promised. Take it as a good sign if you hear from me later, not earlier.

Ana was unsuccessful again searching for the special wine on Thursday. She awoke Friday with a new reserve - no call had come from Miles to cancel the date, so she expected him. She started with the business telephone directory, and jotted down the places she hadn't been to yet listed under wine or carryout.

After making her list of about 8 places, she dressed and set out. Everything else was ready, the condo was spotless, new table cloth and other new things in place. She had to admit that the new things, minor though they were, provided a definite improvement - she was almost sorry that she had taken so little interest in the place before.

She struck out with the first two places. The first was completely closed, and the second had paired down its wine offerings to about 25 bottle of the usual grocery store stock. The next place had a fair selection, and she was almost convinced to buy an Italian Amarone that the proprietor said was a very good year and very hard to find. The place after that had stopped carrying wine altogether - they said they sold far more beer and it wasn't worth the bother. She pulled up to the next place on her list. She took a look, and almost turned around without entering. The place was an former residence, converted to a business. The name had changed from the telephone book listing. It also had a hand lettered sign which stated 'Under New Ownership.' Other handmade signs promised 'Local Pottery,' 'Used Books,' and 'Ask about our custom made quilts.' Hardly a wine store, but, sure enough, beneath the 'Used Books' was a sign stating 'Rare and Unique Wines.' Oh, well, she thought, what is there to lose?

She walked onto a porch and through a screen door with an 'Open' sign. She didn't see anyone at first, then an older gentleman, with wisps of white hair sticking out under the beret on his head and wearing small wire-rimmed glasses, stood up from behind a glass counter. He was wearing a cardigan sweater and a dress shirt and tie, all obviously from another era. He looked at her quizzically, then said, as if he'd been rehearsing it all morning, "How may I help you?"

"Wines? I'm looking for some wine?"

"A unique and special bottle, I presume."

"Yes, that's exactly it."

He came around the counter to the front. "Please, Ma'am. Follow me." She thought about saying 'Ms' but silenced herself before anything came out. He led her through a doorway to the next room back. On bookcases were bottles and bottles of wine, all dust covered. She picked up the first bottle to catch her eye, and was surprised to see that it was more than 30 years old. She glanced around at other vintages, and found similarly old wines. "This is wonderful. I had no idea you had all of these old wines here. But, what should I choose?"

He crossed his eyes and scratched his head lightly. "You must tell me something about what you want it for. Who, when, where, and the like."

"Well, its for a man. But, not just any man. This man knows a lot about wine, he makes it."

"Hmmmm." He looked thoughtful. "What kind of wine does he make?"

"Well, all sorts. Red, white...."

He interrupted her, shaking his head.. "No, that isn't what I mean. Does he make good wine? Does he make wine with care? Or, does he just make wine to make money from it?"

Ana hadn't said anything about the winery - how did this man know to ask about making money? There were certainly far more hobbyists and amateurs than there were wineries around here. Maybe it was just a lucky guess. She thought about his questions.

"I would say some of each, but more than anything, he tries to make the best wine he can. And, he's always trying to make it even better."

"Then, he might appreciate something produced by hand, in very small quantity a long time ago, made with a great deal of love." He stated this as if there was no answer to it.

"That sounds wonderful. But how much...?"

"I won't ask you to purchase it on my word. I have a small quantity, and I happen to have a bottle I opened last night and didn't finish. I have so few friends to share with these days...." He looked a little forlorn. "It will have faded some, but you'll get the idea. " He looked at her conspiratorially and whispered. "I don't have an actual tasting license, so I will pour you some in a china cup. I can trust you." Again, a statement, not a question. "Please wait here for a minute."

He went back into the front room and she heard the sound of feet on stairs. She remembered that there had been a wooden stairway in the corner of the room. He must live here. But, how strange. The sign said 'Under New Ownership,' but the place looked as if it had been exactly the same for years and years. And, the man seemed to belong here as well. But, maybe she was finally going to get lucky with the wine.

A soft pad back down the stairs and the man carrying a half full bottle of wine with a cork in the top. And, what a bottle! It was light green glass, and had design etched into it, around the top and the bottom. The label was practically worn or rotted off, she could see only a letter here and there, no recognizable words. It had the look of being kept in a dark and damp place for quite a long while.

The man opened up a glass fronted piece of furniture and extracted a china cup. He paused before closing the front and extracted a second. "I'm sorry you won't be able to see it in a proper glass. It practically dances in a glass." He looked suddenly concerned. "You do have decent wine glasses, don't you?" Ana assured him that she had just purchased lead free crystal glasses - the import store recommended them because the lead could be hazardous. The man chuckled a little, she got the feeling that he didn't think much of the lead concern, but he simply said, "Good."

He poured a small splash in the cup. "Just smell. Then roll it around in your mouth. Then I will pour another small swallow. It is quite potent, it hasn't lost that with age."

"How old is if? I can't read the bottle."

"Taste. Then we'll talk."

Ana sniffed. What an odor! But she couldn't place it. Flower, fruit, herb, all bright things - it occurred to her that it was the odor of a sunny spring day - when the world is coming back to life. She took the taste, and the initial sensation was that it was slightly too cold. She swirled it in her mouth and it warmed up. She could taste a golden light sweetness, but not like sugar or honey, or like wine made from one of the sweeter grapes. It was fuller bodied than that - with just a hint of citrus flavor. She instantly wanted to drink more, but slowly.

The man was watching her. He poured slightly more into her now empty cup. He had poured himself nearly a full cup, and was savoring one taste at a time. That taste! What was it? It was like nothing in the world. She drank it slowly - it couldn't have been more than a couple of ounces, and found that he was right. She was beginning to feel giddy. She saw the man look at her, and smile.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want. How much is it, and what on earth is it?"

He looked at her with concern. "This man, is he the right one? No other man?"

She had the distinct impression that he knew everything about her, knew about Greg, knew about Miles. She chastised herself for being paranoid. Just a nice old man in a strange store.

Strangely, she felt the need to be completely honest.

"I can't be certain. I mean, something feels right, or different, or something. I can't stop thinking about him, but I don't know what he thinks of me. He might not even show up," she added, although not hearing from Miles made her more and more certain that he would be there tonight.

"All right then, twenty dollars. Plus tax."

Ana couldn't believe her ears. "You must be mistaken. This is obviously very rare, and very old."

"I'll give you a bottle in better shape. As far as what it is, I can tell you very little. I came upon a case of these many years ago. There are three bottles left - some I drank, some I gave away, just a few I sold. As I said, it was made with love. You and your friend are clever - you can figure out the rest."

He pulled out a wooden box sitting beside one of the bookcases of wine. In it were three full bottles. He lifted each in turn, looking at the amount of evaporation and the condition of the label. He settled on one.

"When is this for?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight! But you should have come sooner. What's to be done?" He was getting agitated. He poked around and found a bottle sized cardboard box. He wrapped the bottle in layers of paper, and stuffed the box with more paper. He fitted the bottle in carefully, and taped the box shut. "Here," he said handing it to her. "You must take it home immediately, but go very slowly. And sit the bottle in a very safe place, so it doesn't move much. On the seat of your car, perhaps. You might wrap the seatbelt around it." He added some directions for chilling the wine. Ana sat the bottle down and opened her purse. She extracted a twenty and a one. She picked up the box.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done."

"Drink it carefully. It will give you wisdom, and not foolishness as so many wines do now. Your friend will like it." He seemed certain.

He opened the door and she went outside. She put the bottle carefully on the passenger seat, and wrapped the shoulder harness around it to keep it steady. The old man watched.

"I will give you your change when you come back. I owe you thirty five cents."

Ana laughed. "Don't' worry about that. You've done me so much of a favor today."

"I will return it. We must attempt to keep all things even and fair."

Ana waved, started the car, and drove home very slowly. She stayed off the interstate and took a series of back roads. Several cars become impatient in following her, and passed her. She normally would have been annoyed, but she was too concerned about her precious cargo to care. When she pulled into her parking space, she breathed a sigh of relief. She carried the bottle inside, and unwrapped it carefully. The man had advised that she refrigerate it on its side for only a couple of hours, so she left it laying in the box. Three -thirty, and she needed to decide what to wear. She ate a container of yogurt and went into the bedroom and started pulling through her closet.

Miles slept in fits - the headache was lessening, and his stomach had gone from queasy to settled down. But a series of vision-like dreams kept him from relaxing. Ana seemed to appear whenever he closed his eyes. "So much for helping me forget about her," he grunted to no one. After one particularly vivid dream, he awoke thinking that she was lying beside him. He had instead wrapped his arm around his pillow. He remembered how good it felt, thinking that she was sleeping there, naked beside him. He remembered seeing her bare back in those dresses she seemed to like to wear. He looked at the clock - coming up on four thirty, and he hadn't gotten up. He resolved to do something about Ana, as soon as he got back to normal. What, he didn't know. But, he had to try something - if not, he was destined to be tortured by her image. But, what if he tried and failed again? Would he go through life thinking about her? Maybe better just to forget her now. But, that seemed impossible. He decided that he would wait until next week, and corner her if and when she came back to pick up grapes. He did still have her tee shirt, maybe he could make an excuse to get her alone. And, then say what? He asked himself. He groaned, and turned over, and went back into another Ana dream. Just then, the door opened. It was Jimmy, coming back to check on Miles. He yelled up "Any signs of life up there?" Miles groaned. The clock now read almost six.