CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) (25 page)

Zack watched workers show up to their stores and go in. Zack signed a lot of the paperwork because he knew fights would cost money and time and build grinding anguish in his children.
I’m not going to squabble over everything - it’s bad enough for the kids that we are splitting
.

Flashes like television episodes pushed their way forward into his mind in rippling waves. His kids’ births, their first steps, their first days at school. When they drew on the walls with crayons and markers. He would be giving up all the rest of their firsts until they became young adults. Could he do that? Based on this paperwork he would have to. He couldn’t believe how Lydia had twisted the one spot of his happiness of the winery investment against him into something to cause him to lose his children. He had tried enduring Lydia, thought his patience and steady resolve might keep him unharmed. Now alone with nothing to solve his situation, no wife, no kids, no job. He only had that winery that had yet to produce any profits – and likely to need another capital call. Money that he did not have. He flipped through the paperwork and found the judge agreed that with the kids, with granting Lydia’s petition for more of their savings for home maintenance and the kids’ college educations. They gave him a pitiful amount. A note attached, written by Lydia, was that she reduced the balance in their shared checking account to that listed in the paperwork and removed her name from the original account. He looked around inside his car. How many other little details would he have to change? Driver’s license. Car insurance. “Do I need this car?” He looked at it. “I could drive it instead of flying to California.” While he knew he could buy a beater car out there, he knew the maintenance history of this one, it could last and he wouldn’t have to spend time trying to sell it here either. He could focus on the approaching harvest season at the vineyard. How would Claire react when he told her?

He watched the rain drizzle down the windows and readjusted his life.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“Aaaargh.” James Vega wrestled himself out of his chair. He smacked the TV tray in anger, tumbling the tray and all its dishes with half eaten bits of meals and half empty beverages onto the carpet. He walked to the blaring television game show and kicked the console. His toe cracked the plastic covering the speaker. He put his foot down and banged against the screen with his fork until bright points of light pierced the room like stars in a dark night.

“Dad!” Claire ran from the kitchen and tried taking the fork from his hand. He shoved her away, her body sprawled across the couch, and the hard board strengthening its back bruised her side. She gained her feet and launched at him again. He turned to her and put his hand under the coffee table. He flipped the table toward her. She dodged the heavy wood and reached for his arms. She hugged her arms around him. “Dad! It’s me, Claire. Your daughter!”

He growled again and wiggled under her grip. She couldn’t hold him and he burst free of her, clomping over the upside down coffee table with its legs splayed into the air just as sad as an upside down turtle. Her father kept moving. He grabbed the floor lamp as he steamed toward the front door. He dragged the lamp until the cord pulled tight at the base of the lamp. He stopped and yanked at the lamp. A spark flared near the electrical socket where the metal strands of the separated cord touched each other. The circuit breaker deeper in the house flipped and threw the room into darkness. Claire banged her shin on the coffee table leg as she chased her father. He reached the front door and opened it. The security chain rattled and banged as he pulled the door against it. He pushed his arm through the opening until his shoulder stuck. He pushed until another thought entered his mind. He gripped the lamp shaft in both hands and swung its heavy foot at the door.

Claire tipped her chin back as the cast foot of the lamp brushed near her face. “Dad!” The lamp gouged into the steel security door with a loud thump. Her father pulled at the door and shoved his arm out. His shoulder stopped him a second time. She yanked away the lamp from her father’s distracted hand. Then she leaned into the door trapping him by his arm. She put both hands to her father’s face, forcing him to look at her, “Dad! You need to settle down. You’re scaring me. Dad, can you understand me?”

He wrenched his shoulder up and down. Then he stopped. Tears came to his eyes and his head hung down toward her. She released pressure on the door and hugged him. She led him back to his chair. He cried and his body shook. He floundered to his chair where his hands came to his face, “I’m sorry, Claire!”

Claire touched his head, “That’s ok, Dad. You worried me.”

“Do you touch all your customers?” He flinched back, “I came here for a donut and a coffee. Can I get a coffee with cream and sugar? You are pretty, I must be lucky.”

Claire took a deep breath. She would need to talk to Tyler and Joan about putting their father in a home. Her father’s swinging lamp could have knocked her out or killed her. If his door had opened while she remained in the kitchen making lunch, he might be in the middle of the street in a blink. “Yes. I’ll be right back. You read the paper while I get it.”

“Thank you.”

September

Claire followed Zack around the fermentation tanks on their way to the fields. He had shown her the completed divorce paperwork and she stayed. She even suggested coming out to the vineyards today while he worked.

The sky burned blue over the vineyards. Tight purple grape clusters dangled from the lower vines like upside down Christmas trees needing no adornment to sparkle and glow. Zack followed a random winding path through the rows selecting single grapes from the bright clusters to taste. Occasionally he crushed a grape in the refractometer he carried and measured the sugar content directly. Claire could smell Zack’s mix of work sweat and aftershave as he reached passed her for one of the grape clusters. Zack plucked a berry from the center. He brought it up to Claire’s gaze, “Here, try this.”

Her eyes circled around his face and followed along his arm and up to the fruit. She bit the luscious fruit from his fingers. The sweetness burst across her tongue mixed with the fruitiness of black cherries and currants.

“Can you taste the sugar?”

She reached for Zack’s shoulder. She drew him toward her, swallowing the grape, “You tell me.” She touched her lips to his. As the grape flavors burst in her mouth, her body burst in her desire for him. Claire crushed against him, wanting him, burning for him. Her hand moved across his shoulder and hooked her elbow around his neck. The scruff of his beard stubble a day old and sexy against her bare arm. Her tongue rippled along his and she wanted him here and now.

“I think we need to taste more grapes,” Zack said, pulling back and appearing to pant between his words, “I told our wine maker I’d do the survey and announce when the fruit is ready to harvest. It’s ready.”

“We’re not close enough,” Claire pulled him against her, wondering how she had resisted before. The perfect weather, the sun sitting comfortable in the sky. The afternoon wandering through the field inspecting the grapes with Zack. Watching him get more involved with the winery and vineyards since the divorce. She knew he worked in the fields as much to forget everything as getting the job done. She saw Zack whenever she could pull Tyler from his surfing to watch her father. Visiting Zack helped her avoid wallowing in her own situation. She needed Zack now, suddenly more, like a dial amplified passed ten. She hadn’t wanted anyone like this in, well, she never knew. Not like this. Zack did not pull away. He pressed her against him with his strong arms and nearly lifted her. Foliage glowed around them like curtains holding the world away.

Their kiss remained unbroken as she unlatched his overall strap. He spun her around and laid her down on the soft clover with leaves like butterflies, slipping his arm free of his other overall strap. She pushed at him and rolled up on top straddling her knees to either side of his chest. She broke their kiss and straightened. She watched his eyes for a long heartbeat after she pulled off her cotton shirt and bra in a single smooth motion. Her breasts hung heavy and her nipples pinched themselves, calling to him. His hands stroked up her body and against all the nerves at the edges of her breasts. Her eyes closed as she focused on the sensations traveling along her skin. Then her arms wound around his head and his around her back, nudging her breast across his lips. Claire slipped down his body. The fantastic touch of skin on skin charging her desire. Her hair flooded across his shoulder. Their pants unbuttoned. Probing. Zack rolled her and moved his lips to her body. She winced
in pleasure as he nibbled her breast. She moved her hand across his chest, his stomach, and reached below his belt. Zack’s fingertips stroked between her legs.
Claire expected fumbling. But this man knew her body better than she did. Waves of pleasure caused her to vocalize more than she thought proper but soon she did not care in the middle of this field. Alone with him.
Oh!
She had not considered the experience he might have gained being married. Nor how effective he could be with that experience until her body rose and crashed in splintering ecstasy that rolled into a second and a third. Claire begged him to stop. He filled her entire world with his touch. She forgot her sweaty body stuck with ground chaff. She forgot that her ragged breath came in quick, delicious gasps. The movement of their bodies against each other in a rhythm that held her focus. Then an orchestra wide crescendo split through her skull, tumbling her back like
a rapidly discharged battery burning hot and simultaneously bursting with a chill as the adrenaline rush faded. She stretched on the ground and he
too lay on his back next to her recovering his breath. Claire ran her fingers across his chest, enjoying the coarse feel of the dark hair that covered it. Not a nude, shaved, and chemically treated cover model, but a real man. She rolled against him and slid her thigh over his. Her face felt his warm shoulder against her cheek.

Zack took a long breath. He whispered, “You are amazing.”

Claire pulled her hand across his chest, tipping her finger tips up and lightly scraping her painted nails against him. His arm swung across and pulled her close, their faces inches from each other. Claire said, “I didn’t know what to expect – but wow.”

“You thought I’d finish before the buttons were off?”

“I didn’t know,” she breathed his scent in, mingled with her own now. Marked as hers. “You knew where I needed you.”

He smiled, “Experience counts for something once in a while.”

Claire’s hand went to her forehead, “My mind almost burst – but in a great way.”

Zack lay back looking into the clear blue sky, a smile cutting his face, “I know mine did.”

“Jay, I appreciate you letting me crash on your couch.”

“No problem Zack. That’s what old friends are for. Sad Lydia stuck you that way. What time are you leaving for the game?”

“It’s a one o’clock game. I should get going in another twenty minutes. I think Lydia only let me take the kids out because they watched a game on television last week. When I mentioned it would be fun they kind of bowled her over.”

“It should be a good game.”

“I want a hot dog!” said Grace, skipping in a little dress and white tights.

“And pop. I want a big orange pop,” Noah demanded.

Zack hadn’t gotten used to everyone in California calling it soda. He liked to hear his kids use the Mid-Western slang. How he missed them. He knelt in line and hugged Noah.

“Ow Dad.”

“I didn’t squeeze you that hard, what’s wrong Noah?”

“My arm is bruised.”

“Did you get in a fight with your sister or did you fall down while playing?”

“No Dad.”

Grace pulled up her sweatshirt, “I have one too!” Grace was proud of her mark, as if it were a fancy tattoo.

“What were you doing to get those?” Zack ran his fingers over the children, pressing on their arms and legs and finding more bruises on the backs of their legs. “You have these all over. What’s going on?”

“Nothing Dad –” Noah said.

Grace spun, “I want pizza instead of a hot dog.”

Noah pushed between two other people standing in line to see the counter better, “I want one of those pretzels. Dad can I have a pretzel and a hot dog?”

Zack said, “They’ll put mustard on the pretzel.”

“Really? I don’t like mustard,” Grace’s shoulders drooped.

“Maybe we can get it plain.”

“That’s what I want. A plain pretzel. How long before we get through this line?”

“I’m not sure Grace.”

Zack kept running through his mind what could have happened to get those bruises. They had played rough when he lived with them and they never bruised like that. He remembered a few things from those books on what to do when you have a new child that Lydia had gotten but never seemed to read herself. Zack didn’t enjoy any of the baseball game itself but being with the children was great. He did the divorced-dad thing and bought cotton candy for them on the way out of the park, “You can have this when I get you home.”