The Long Way Home (24 page)

He looked impassioned, "I think I knew that. I watched
you slipping away. I can feel it, I’m losing you." A tear slipped down his
cheek. I wasn’t
sure drunk tears
counted, but it was an
effort. He sniffled, “I don’t want to lose you. I need you. Can we go back? Can
we be friends again? I miss you.”

I kissed his cheek softly, "I miss you too, but I mostly
just miss being your friend. I miss being your family.
I miss
listening to your stories and laughing.
Like the one about you and your
brothers when you went fishing and one caught some underwear and chased you
with them. I like us as friends." I wasn’t sure if it was true or just
words I spoke to avoid my broken heart.

He looked devastated, "I can change, Jack. I can be what
you need."

I shook my head, "I don’t want that. I like you just the
way you are, but I can't love you the way you want me to. It took me all this
time of not having you around to see that we are always going to be best
friends. Always. I will always be your Jack."

He shook his head, "Baby, I love you. I know I do."

I nodded, "I know you do. I know you love me in your
special way and I'm the only girl who says no to you and makes you crazy but
that isn’t the marrying kind of love."

"You love someone else?
Someone like
Luce, who your parents will love?
Fuck you! Don’t tell me you love me
but don’t want to be with me." He got up and walked to the door. I grabbed
the back of his shirt and dragged him to my bed. I shoved him down on it and
laid
beside him, "We are not arguing right now. You are
drunk and stupid."

"Don’t sneak away this time."

I shook my head, "I won't." I closed my eyes,
"I don’t want to lose you, Mike. If you want to be with me, then you need
to prove it. You couldn’t even do three months of celibacy. I know you were
with other girls."

He sighed, "They don't ever mean anything, Jack. And I
did cut back, a lot. I only slipped twice when I was at a couple parties. I
woke up and realized what I’d done. I tried to tell you, but I didn't know how.
I knew you’d be disappointed in me. I am trying."

I kissed his forehead, "I'm not kidding around. I'm
disgusted you would sleep with Daniela and hurt Tex and me like that."

"Tex did it to me first."

I shook my head, "That's mature." And that was
exactly the point my heart was making. "Mike, this careless, sexy, slutty,
hockey player thing you have going for yourself was hot ten years ago. It's not
hot anymore. You're getting older, time to grow up."

He nuzzled into me, "I'm like Peter Pan."

I shook my head, trying to stifle my laugh, "No, you
aren’t. It's time to see what big boy Mike is like."

I felt him smile, "I can show you big boy Mike right
now."

I nearly gagged, "You stink and you just had sex with
another woman. A married woman."

He chuckled, "You walked into that one, Jack."

I watched him fall asleep, forcing myself to see slutty,
gross Mike.

Later that night, as he shoved my bags into the back of the
cab, he gave me a sour-looking expression.

I nudged him and smiled sweetly, "I'll see you at the
end of May."

Mike scowled, "Just come home. I swear you can watch me
grow. Muriel will be excited to see you."

I shook my head, folding my arms over my shirt, "Sorry.
I need this."

"Why are you doing this?"

I narrowed my gaze, "My sister is having sex with Will,
who probably loves her and she probably loves him. But you know what's sad? She
will never be with him. She won't sacrifice her social status and choose love.
Tex was screwing Daniela the entire time you were with her—she's a whore.
Let's face it. You wait for him to marry her and then pay him back—that's
sick. I nearly sleep with you and then nearly bed hop from you to Luce."
His face darkened but I shoved his chest, "Stop. You fucked Daniela; you
have no right to judge me. To top all that shit off, I nearly married a
sadistic bastard because my dad told me to. I have NEVER just been away from
the toxicity of it all. All these near misses would have happened, had I still
been taking
several
types of prescription medicine.
You see how fucked up that is? My life sounds like a soap opera. I'm waiting
for someone to come back from the dead and I'm just going to find a script
writer and produce this shit."

He snorted, "You're making it sound worse than it
is."

I shook my head, exasperated, "NO. That’s the worst
part, Mike. I'm not."

"STOP CALLING ME MIKE!"

I leaned into his savage look, "THEN EARN MY LOVE,
FRANCE! STOP EXPECTING THAT YOU DESERVE IT BECAUSE WE HAVE HISTORY!"

He grabbed my shoulders but stopped himself. We hovered in
that awkward silence for a minute. The one where we stared at each other's
quivering lips and prayed desperately that the other person would move that
last ten percent. Both stubborn and scared, neither of us did.

He gave me a hurt
look,
"I went
to the Empire State Building for you."

I smiled, I couldn’t fight it,
"
I
loved that."

His ragged breath sounded like it might catch in his throat.
"I can't lose you."

I nodded, "Then act like it. Act like missing me isn’t
just a sober thing for you. Act like I am the person you want to be with and
think about the person I want to be with."

I moved the last ten percent but I pressed my lips against
his flushed cheeks. He pressed into the kiss. I whispered, "See you in
May."

I turned away from him and climbed into the cab. Before I
closed the door, I turned back to him. He looked tragic and on the verge of
doing something crazy. I hoped he would, just a little bit.

"Tell Brandi I said she is a hateful slut and I will see
her in May too."

He started to laugh but it sounded close to crying, "I
love you, Jack."

I nodded, "I love you too, France."

When I got onto the flight for Greece, I pulled the
handkerchief from my pocket. I smelled it and sighed. It was the smell of the
hillside, the setting sun, and the
Valpolicella
. I
opened it up to see a note written inside of it.

It made me smile. Inside was a note,

"Jacqueline,

As per
our previous agreement, I will be waiting for you May 9th at the Gallery of
Ancient Art in Rome at 7 pm.

Yours,

Luce."

I felt my breath hitch as I reread it. He had planned all
along to give me the handkerchief. He had planned it like a romantic movie,
long before we even spoke of movies.

My stomach tightened as the plane took off. He would be the
right choice; I could love a man like Luce so easily.

I shelved the last of the bottles, "I think this is it.
Now we just have to go and see if the guys are ready with the pruning and
burning."

Rita smiled at me, "You work hard for an American. I have
never seen anyone work so hard."

I smiled, proud of that and slightly
disturbed by the racial slur
, "
I like it here
. I like this
kind of work. Every bottle feels like a member of my family."

She rolled her eyes, "You sound like my
Pappou
. He always said the wine was the blood of our
family."

I dusted my knees off and nodded, "See, that’s so
romantic and inspired. I like that."

She winked, "He drank almost as much as you."

I laughed, "Nice. What did you want anyway?" Rita,
being an owner, never came down into the cellar very often. She did the ‘fancy
work in nice clothes’ part of the job. Things like tours around the vineyard
and dinner parties.

She pointed at the ceiling, "A very persistent American
is here to see you."

I scowled and walked after her through the old tunnels.
"No one knows where I am, except my sister." I couldn’t imagine her
wanting to fly at seven-months pregnant. We emerged from the dirty basement but
it wasn’t Brandi.

It was Muriel.

She looked stunned, "Jacqueline, you look positively filthy.
Come with me, this instant."

I smiled and walked over. She was the ball of fire she had
once been. No longer broken by a bad marriage and too many pills.

She opened her arms for me. I wrapped mine around her. She
squeezed my biceps, "You are getting muscles; this is most unbecoming. No
doubt too much hard work and fighting off Greek men."

Rita snorted, "She doesn’t fight them off. She just
gives them that look and they know not to go near her."

I gave her a wounded look.

Rita shook her head, "No, not that one. The really mean
one with the wrinkles in the eyebrows."

I gave her a look. She laughed, "Yes, much closer."

Muriel put a delicate hand out to Rita, "Muriel
Getty." She was going by her maiden name.

Rita smiled, "I am Rita
Barontis
."

Muriel's eyes widened, "Why then, your grandfather must
have been John."

Rita nodded, "Yes, he was."

Muriel gave me a sly smile, "Very attractive man."

I shook my head. Rita gave her a surprised look, "You
knew my
Pappou
?"

Muriel winked, "A girl never kisses and tells."

Rita laughed, "That sounds like him. Well, you must have
lunch on the patio."

Muriel glanced at my tee shirt, shorts, and boots. I shoved
her towards the patio "We will, thank you."

Muriel linked my arm, "I suppose if I didn’t want men to
notice me, I too would dress like a young man."

I sighed, "How are things in Boston?"

Nick, the maître d’, brought us to a nice seat in the midday
sun. He smiled and passed us the single piece of papyrus with the menu on it.

Muriel placed hers on the table, "What are you doing,
Jacqueline?"

I glanced at the menu I knew off by heart and shook my head,
"Running away, I suppose."

"Are you done?"

I looked up at her, "I don’t know. I don’t know what to
choose for myself so I figured, why go back? What is there for me in New York
or Boston?"

Her eyes narrowed, "You're about to become an aunt. Your
father is in the hospital. The man you love is winning every game under the sun
and Boston is probably going to win the cup this year."

She could see the hold I had on my emotions, even if my
father was in the hospital.

"I found a vineyard I was thinking about investing some
money in, if I had the right person to buy it and run it."

I sighed, "Oh, that was a low blow, Muriel."

She sipped her lemon water, "I know. The joy of getting
old is that you may speak your mind. Let me speak mine."

I took a sip of water, "Let me order us some wine
first."

Her eyes darkened, "No, that’s alright. I prefer the
water."

I scowled, "Okay." That was odd.

She ran her fingers over the silverware, "The day you
came to my house and found me in the corner. I had dished out enough pills and
booze to end my life. I wanted to die. You came there and you saved me. You
made me remember that a man wasn’t worth giving up on myself for."

I hadn’t seen that coming.

She continued, "I don’t drink or take anything
anymore." She looked at me with emotions filling her eyes, "Let me
save your life, Jacqueline. Let me be the beacon of light you were for
me."

My heart stopped.

"Let me invest in your dreams and help you make them
come true." She pulled a folder from her oversized purse and laid it in
front of me.

"They aren’t listing it until we have had first refusal
on the property. A friend owns it and is getting too old to have it any longer.
His children have never been interested in it. He doesn’t want it to pass to
anyone who isn’t completely in love with wine and wine making."

I stared at the stunning photos of the old vineyard as she
spoke, "The grapes originated from the mother vine, the oldest cultivated
wine grapes in North America. The blended wines from the vineyard all have some
of the mother grape in them, her fermented skins. The vineyard is beautiful and
he is willing to give his label, as long as when you create your own label, his
legacy doesn’t die with the transfer of ownership."

I nodded "Sounds fair but I don’t see how I can do this.
I don’t have enough money; how much is he selling it for?"

"Let me worry about the finances. Come home and start
your own dreams."

I shook my head, "You have no idea the thing you are
offering and how much it means to me, but I can't accept that kind of
generosity."