Wait for Me in Vienna (29 page)

51

A blanket of gray, gloomy clouds covered the city as Johanna and Thomas dozed and cuddled under the blankets. It was already Sunday; Thomas’s departure rapidly approached.

Johanna staggered sleepily to the toilet. On the way back, she stole a peek at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning. She woke up Thomas, so they wouldn’t sleep away their last precious hours together.

“What are we doing today?” she asked as she lay against him and ran her fingers through his hair.

Thomas grunted something unintelligible. He obviously wasn’t fully awake and didn’t give the impression that he was full of zest and ready to take on the world, though they’d slept for almost nine hours.

Good
, Johanna thought.
I’ll sneak in the kitchen and come back in about twenty minutes with a tray full of delicious treats: croissants, rolls, jams of all kinds, honey, butter, ham, cheese, and coffee
.

“Wake up, Thomas. Breakfast is ready,” she whispered in his ear as she placed the tray on his stomach.

“Mmm!” He sat up. He was revitalized by his first sip of good strong coffee, really good, not the weak American stuff foisted upon him in New York.

“What would you like to do today?” he said after he’d eaten every last bite of his delicious meal.

Johanna shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not very pretty outside, but it’s not raining, either.”

“We could take a drive outside the city, take a walk someplace pretty, go get some lunch?” Thomas suggested.

“Excellent idea.”

Suddenly, Thomas’s cell phone rang. It was Martin.

“Why is my brother calling you?” she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“Because I’m extremely popular with my fans,” he teased as he took the call.

Johanna carried the tray back into the kitchen. Suddenly, Thomas came in and gave her a big hug from behind.

“Martin proposed that we go over to their place this afternoon for some cake and coffee, or a glass of wine or beer.”

This time, Johanna had to deliberate a little. “Okay, we can drop in for a bit. But then I want to have you all to myself this evening.”

Thomas called Martin back. “Good, we’ll come this afternoon. We’ll call when we’re on the way.”

Thomas had secretly planned this day trip ahead of time, but he wanted it to appear spontaneous. Thomas knew what Johanna liked; he had carefully observed her when she leafed through wine magazines, reading articles about the highly acclaimed Grüner Veltliner wine. He’d researched wineries and organic farmers in the area. He knew that she hated nothing more than cheap, factory-made bread, which was about as authentic and local as the cheap blouses H&M sold in all colors and sizes around the world. While in New York, Thomas had booked this surprise outing to an organic vineyard and farm that Johanna had read about in one of her culinary magazines. He had also planned a romantic, candlelit dinner—well, actually, a candlelit lunch.

Thinking they were going for a long walk in the country, Johanna put on sneakers and casual clothes. She should have realized something was going on when Thomas suggested that instead of sweatpants—which he didn’t necessarily think were unsexy—she should wear jeans. He was able to talk her out of her sneakers, too. She figured he just wanted to see her in something nicer on their last day, so she acquiesced.

“Where are we going?” she asked in the car.

“Let me surprise you. I know the location of a great dirt road.”

“A what?” she asked with some irritation. “A dirt road? And you won’t let me wear my sneakers? Well, Thomas, you are a very odd person.”

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

“Oh, what are you up to?”

“Don’t be a pest. Just let me surprise you.”

“All right,” she said. Less than five minutes later, though, she asked him again. “You could at least give me a hint . . . just a little one, maybe?”

Thomas shook his head vehemently and refused to say a word. He knew if he ignored her questions, she would eventually give up.
Johanna can be quite demanding
, he thought as she stared at him in the hope that she could pry a word out of him with her eyes. Thomas turned up the music.

“Who’s this singer? I like it, but it’s not your kind of music, is it?”

“That’s ‘All About Your Heart’ by Mindy Gledhill,” he replied. “And of course it’s my kind of music; otherwise, I wouldn’t have put it on.”

“I just said that because it’s such a peaceful song.”

“Oh, I like peaceful music,” he proclaimed, putting his hand on Johanna’s knee, although he would have preferred to put it over her mouth.

After about thirty minutes, Thomas turned down an exit ramp toward the Heinz Organic Farm.

“We’re going to a winery?” Johanna started to jiggle her right foot in excitement. “This is the one that I read about!”

“Yes. Are you happy?”

“Totally! What are we doing here?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said as he stepped out of the car.

The owners of the winery were a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Heinz. The man must have been at least six feet six. They greeted them enthusiastically.

“Hello. Welcome! It’s such an honor to have you as our guests. This is my husband, Sepp, I’m Maria, and we run this place,” she said, visibly proud as she pointed to her husband and to the surrounding terrain, ringed by vineyards.

The lush green vines lit up the land. It was hard to tell which was greener—the grass or the grapevines. Precious, pearly green grapes hung on the vines. These would later be made into Grüner Veltliner, Riesling, or Pinot Blanc. Between the vines, which were lined up like an army in formation, supported by nearly invisible wires and wooden posts, were narrow paths that were easy to spot from a distance.

“Mama, Mama!” yelled a blonde child running toward Thomas and Johanna.

“That’s our daughter, Katharina, our sunshine,” the mother announced with pride as the rosy-cheeked little girl hid under her mother’s apron. She occasionally snuck a peek at Johanna and her shoes.

“They’re so pretty,” Katharina said as she pointed at Johanna’s ballerina flats.

“Thank you,” she said as she bent over to greet the little girl.

“Good. We’ll start the tour by going through our cellar. There’ll be a wine tasting there later, after the tour. Last year was an excellent vintage!” said Sepp as he opened a heavy wooden door that hid a staircase into a rustic cellar.

The wine cellar was impressive. It smelled a bit musty because of the countless wooden barrels, which were stacked high on both sides of the room. It was also a bit cool, so Johanna pulled her sweater around herself.

“How old is your winery now?” Thomas asked.

“It’s been in the family for a very long time. I took it over from my father. And he inherited it from his father before him,” said Sepp as he stepped in front of a giant wooden barrel. “These barrels are made of local, aged oak and hold 225 liters of wine.”

“Wow,” Johanna said in amazement. “And which wine do these barrels contain?”

“A Cabernet Sauvignon. It’s our flagship product. It’s been showered with awards and recently received a score of ninety-two points from
Falstaff
.”

“
Falstaff
?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, it’s an Austrian magazine about wines, restaurants, gourmet cooking, and so forth,” Sepp explained succinctly. “I believe I have an issue upstairs I can show you later.”

The three went through the rest of the cellar rooms as the owner explained the intricacies of proper storage, wine varieties, sales, and the history of the winery. Johanna was fascinated, and Thomas was just as interested in it as she was. He was happy that Johanna was so enthusiastic about being there and was able to speak with Sepp about the flavor and maturity of assorted varietals.

“You know what, let’s just get ourselves a taste of something right now,” the winemaker proposed, and led the way to a room back up on the ground floor. “This room is new. We built it last year.”

Johanna and Thomas admired the large dark-brown wooden table with barstools around it in the middle of the tasting room. One wall of the room was made from empty wine bottles, which provided a charming focal point.

“Please take a seat. I’ll bring you both a taste right away,” Sepp said, and disappeared through the door.

“This is the most awesome surprise!”

“I’m so happy that you like it. But wait until we get to the finale.”

“You mean there’s more?”

“Yes. We wanted to have lunch, right?”

“Right. Where are we going?”

“We’re staying here. We’re going to have a romantic, candlelit lunch.”

“Candlelit lunch? That sounds amazing.”

Sepp came back again and put glasses of white wine and red wine in front of them. Maria brought some glasses of water and a basket filled with fresh bread.

“I baked them myself,” she said as she pointed at the loaves of crispy white bread and dark walnut bread.

Thomas and Johanna each grabbed a piece. The white bread, baked to a crispy light brown on the outside, crackled when you bit into it; inside, it was fluffy and moist. It was the type of bread that people would stand in line for, the type that made aficionados rub their hands together in anticipation. People would wait a long time to get a hold of one of these rare specimens, which went so well with marinated olives, feta cheese, oregano, and thyme. It was reminiscent of Italy, somewhere in Tuscany perhaps, a small town where the smell of cypress tress hung in the air and acres of wheat fields spread out like carpets of gold.

“Very tasty,” Thomas said as he reached for a loaf of walnut bread.

“After the wine tasting, we’ll have the regional specialty for lunch. See you later,” Maria said as she walked out of the room.

They did see Maria for a moment again later, but she never got to serve them that lunch. Johanna had to go to the bathroom, and as she walked down the old cellar stairs, she stumbled. She tried to grab onto something that would curb her fall, but there was nothing; she tumbled down the stairs with a loud crash and a scream.

“Johanna,” Thomas called out worriedly, leaping out of his seat, then racing toward the stairs. “Are you hurt?” he asked as he examined a gash on her chin.

Johanna seemed dazed as Thomas picked her up.

“It would probably be best to take her to the hospital and let them examine her there,” Sepp suggested when he saw how out of it Johanna was.

Thomas agreed. “Yes, we’re going.”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Johanna croaked out, but suddenly, a hellish pain came over her, and she groaned in anguish. “Or maybe we should,” she said meekly as Thomas carried her outside.

He put her gently into the backseat. “No, I’ll drive. It’ll be all right.”

Sepp nodded.

Maria was in shock as she stepped out of the house. “What happened?” she cried as Katharina ran out behind her.

When the little girl saw Johanna’s gash, she began to cry. Maria had to comfort Katharina.

“Johanna fell. They’re going to the hospital,” said Sepp. “Do you know where you need to go?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Well, the closest hospital is about five miles from here. I’ll give you the address, and you can put it in your navigation system. You have one?”

“Yes, I have one.” Thomas typed in the address.

“Well, I pray it’s nothing serious,” Maria said as she folded her hands reverently while Katharina cried into her mother’s apron. Thomas started the car and raced out of the driveway.

“Are you okay back there?” he asked, and looked into the rearview mirror.

“Yes, but please, don’t drive so fast,” Johanna moaned. Now that the shock was wearing off, a stabbing pain shot up and down her right leg. She could feel the pain but couldn’t locate it exactly; it just hurt everywhere.

“Sorry, I’ll slow down. We’re almost there,” Thomas said, trying to remain calm as he let up on the gas.

The emergency room was full, but not as full as Vienna’s general hospital, where injured people flooded in every second, along with hypochondriacs. It was best to avoid busy city ERs altogether if at all possible, since the waiting time could be forever; plus, the attending clerical and medical staff were almost always overworked and stressed out. You were lucky if your injuries weren’t too bad or, even better, if you were just a hypochondriac. Then, you could take a good book or magazine with you, and maybe some popcorn and a soda, which made the waiting room seem like a sort of a movie theater. It’d be smart to bring more snacks for later, since you’d probably be waiting such a long time, especially if you weren’t too seriously injured. When someone came in on a stretcher, covered in blood, the chances were very good that they were going to take your place in line.

Thomas carried Johanna into the waiting room of the ER and placed her on a chair.

“Wait here, I’ll get us signed in,” he said, and took her insurance card out of her purse. After a few minutes, he came back with some water and her registration papers.

“Are you thirsty?”

Johanna shook her head, then leaned on Thomas’s shoulder.

Forty-five minutes passed before they were called in.

“We’re up. Come on, Johanna,” he said as he helped her up.

A nurse brought a wheelchair as a precaution.

“That’s going to be much more comfortable,” the lady in the white-and-blue uniform said as she helped Johanna.

“Mmm, aha, well . . .” the doctor said as he examined Johanna’s leg. “Unfortunately, it seems to be broken.”

She froze.

“We’ll need to do an X-ray and an MRI,” Dr. Mick said, and typed something into the computer. “Then we’ll talk more in a few minutes.”

Meanwhile, Thomas waited outside; he paced up and down the hall, sick with worry. The walls in the waiting area were a cheerful yellow, probably designed to convey a feeling of happiness or hope.
Or some nonsense like that
, thought Thomas, looking in the direction of the door through which Johanna had vanished.

“I had a feeling that it was the ankle,” said the doctor as he examined the X-ray of her left leg. “You’ve fractured your ankle pretty elegantly.”