He left with a friendly wave. Madison picked up a piece at random, fingering the twisted curves. The wood spoke to her and she didn’t want to ignore that voice inside her. Eventually, it would tell her what to do with them.
Back inside, she carried the basket over to the coffee table, kicking off her flip-flops and crawling onto the couch to open her gift. Setting aside the card with her name scratched on the outside in a spiky, untidy handwriting, she loosened the ribbon holding the cellophane in place.
A bottle of champagne, the label written entirely in French and looking like it cost more than every bottle she’d ever bought in her life, was the centerpiece. Around the wine were jars and boxes of gourmet snacks, several fine cheeses and meats and a bright yellow gerbera daisy in a pretty blue pot. Madison took each item out and examined it, marveling at the good taste of her mystery benefactor. Jada, kind as she was, wasn’t particularly thoughtful in this way, so it couldn’t be from her.
Madison clutched a bottle of green olives stuffed with garlic, her favorite snack in the world, to her chest as she pulled the last item out of the basket. It was a small box, not much larger than a ring box, wrapped neatly in plain blue paper. When she tore it away and lifted the lid, she saw a simple, teardrop-shaped crystal on a thin wire. She lifted it from the box and gasped.
The crystal twisted on its wire, turning to find its center. It caught the light pouring in through the wall of windows. The light shattered inside the teardrop and sent a thousand tendrils of refracted light. Sparkling light in all colors of the rainbow dotted the room. She stared at the dots of light on the wall, at the beams made visible by the dust motes floating in the air or at the glowing teardrop, still swaying gently as it dangled from her fingers. The sight was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes.
She finally picked up the card, now desperate to know who sent the basket. Her favorite olives and the beautiful flower were one thing, but the teardrop prism was one of the most beautiful, thoughtful gifts she’d ever received. A simple object revealed an understanding of her love of light. There were very few people in her life who knew about it.
The card was plain, white cardstock. She was so shocked by what was written there that she read it out loud to the empty room.
“Congrats on the show. CS.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The winter cold snap barely lasted through December and by January the weather was mild as spring. It wasn’t usual for this part of the country, but Madison wasn’t complaining. She rarely worked well in the cold and gloom of winter, and this winter was worse than any she’d ever experienced. Her solitude left her working in fits and starts, barely keeping up with the diminished demand from the winery shop. It wasn’t just her mood that thwarted her. The damp slowed her work. Pots that dried in a matter of days during the summer and autumn took a week or more after Christmas. Her shelves filled slowly and emptied even more slowly.
Boots made a bright spot of her winter. With less for him to do around the estate, he had taken to dropping by the cottage for coffee and a chat in the afternoon, keeping Madison from slipping too far back into her depression. Madison’s initial assessment that they would end up being good friends, was borne out in those days. She was surprised to see him so often—most of the winery staff worked only seasonally and the place had practically emptied by January. The restaurant staff remained intact, since reservations were as coveted as ever, but Boots and CS appeared to be the only ones working the dormant fields.
Those winter afternoons were fun, sitting in front of a roaring fire and sharing tidbits about each other’s lives. Madison told the story of Robert early on, only to discover that Boots knew the basics from watching Top Chef. Madison bristled again at the invasion of her privacy, but knew it was as much her own fault for calling when she knew all Kacey’s communications were recorded. The mileage the network got from her pain was a sticky subject, and fortunately Boots was perceptive enough to make sure they didn’t dwell on her grief.
He shared his own story with candor, which endeared him to her even more. His parents were undocumented immigrants, sneaking north across the border before he was born. Things went smoothly enough for him and his little sister, both born in Arizona, until the recent change in political fortune. Few American Presidents had been welcoming to Mexican immigrants, but this was the first to put them in cages. His father was deported after nearly thirty years in the country and his mother followed him willingly. She loved her children, but they were adults now and she would not be parted from her husband.
During the winter’s only snowfall, Madison learned of the struggles his parents had trying to rebuild a life with nothing in a country they hadn’t seen in decades. They had no family in Mexico anymore and barely remembered a life there. His sister joined them after graduating from college, but there was little to no chance Boots would see them for a long time. They couldn’t even visit him because of the deportation and he worried what it would mean to cross the border these days. There was every chance that an emboldened bigot in Border Control could stop him from coming home just because of the color of his skin.
For as bleak a picture as he painted, there was no self-pity. It was one of the things Madison liked most about Boots. He had an unbreakable optimism, a rosy-cheeked joy in the way he looked at the world. Madison found herself happier in general when Boots was around.
Still, by the time the snow melted, even Boots’ company was becoming monotonous. In the new year, Madison began to see CS stalking through the fields more often, and the itch in her feet nearly drove her mad. She wanted to be out in the vines again, even with the cold. She wanted to walk and talk with CS.
All of those desires came to a head one day when Boots stopped by earlier than usual to invite Madison out of the cottage. He and CS were going to ride through the vineyard to inspect the winterization and they wanted Madison to join them. He explained how she could ride Oscar, the calmest of the horses, but Madison didn’t hear any of it. She didn’t worry that she’d only had two or three riding lessons and the last one was weeks ago. She didn’t worry that she would have no idea what they were discussing about the grapes. She didn’t worry about Jada’s voice in her head warning her to be careful when it came to CS. She ignored it all and ran to get her coat and sturdier shoes, practically pushing Boots out of the house.
CS met them at the stable door, the reins of three horses in her hand. She was attentive and kind to Madison, asking her to be honest about her comfort level and reminding her of the basics of mounting and riding before they set off.
“I’ll look out for you. Keep close to me,” CS said once they were all in the saddle.
Madison didn’t need telling twice. Glorious sunlight washed over her face, warming her soul if not her skin. The day was still chilly, but the air was fresh and carried the unmistakable scent of life hibernating under the earth. Oscar was indeed gentle, with a slow, even step. He was dapple gray with a rump like a Dalmatian puppy and a beautiful silver mane.
The rows were too close to ride three abreast, so they staggered their line, allowing them to be close enough to talk without shouting and still ride comfortably between the vines. CS led the group, with Madison behind and Boots in the rear. Boots kept up a running commentary on the state of the vines.
“They’re looking good, aren’t they, CS? We’ve had a great winter. This year will be one of the best harvests.”
“Don’t jinx it, Boots.”
He rolled his eyes when Madison looked back at him, swaying gracefully in his saddle. “She’s so superstitious.”
“How can you tell it’ll be a good harvest?” Madison asked, looking at the bare vines.
“He can’t,” CS announced, her focus entirely on the vines. She sat comfortably in the saddle, her legs wrapped around Violet’s flanks as though they were two parts of a whole. “He’s trying to show off.”
“Don’t listen to her, Denver. I can read a dormant vine like the back of my hand. After all, I am
apprenticed to the best winemaker in all of Oregon.”
“That’s not saying much. Besides, you are my horticultural apprentice, not my winemaking apprentice. Big difference.”
The bickering was so adorable, Madison hated to break it up, but the energy of the sunshine was infectious and she couldn’t keep quiet. “What did you do to protect the vines?”
If her goal was to get a chance to speak, Madison chose the wrong approach. Boots immediately launched into an explanation of the growth cycle of grapes, explaining the pruning process to encourage new, vigorous growth. She understood that at least since she still had a pile of dead cane behind her house. Unfortunately, he completely lost her after that. Something about bleeding water from the pruning wounds.
She came to understand, while he prattled on and she retained nothing, that Boots was excited by the business of growing of grapes. She hadn’t realized his importance at the winery, hadn’t known he was an apprentice, hadn’t appreciated his enthusiasm. That enthusiasm was not the same as CS’s, however. When she spoke about wine to Madison, it was the pouring out of a passion. Like a love story between grape and earth. She loved what she did. Madison craved the eloquence of CS’s explanations, not the textbook descriptions from Boots.
As Boots talked, Madison grew restless. She could tell by the rigid set of CS’s shoulders as they rode that she was itching to take over, but she never did. She showed a respect for Boots, understanding how his interest differed from her own.
The drone of Boots’ voice and the swaying pace of the horse lulled Madison into a waking doze. CS stopped to take a closer look at a series of vines, letting the other two pull ahead. After a dozen paces, Madison turned to look back, wanting to make sure CS didn’t leave her alone with Boots for too long.
As she turned, an unnatural movement caught Madison’s eye. She looked down at the same time Oscar did, and their reactions were remarkably similar. A snake as thick as a tree branch, its body olive-brown with dark blotches ringed in white, slithered like a snapped whip around the base of the nearest vine. Its mouth grinned wickedly on its spade-shaped head. It raised its white-striped tail and shook it, the sound like dried beans rattling around in a paper cup. Madison’s heart turned to ice. Had she been on the ground, she would have jumped, which is exactly what Oscar did.
With a shake of his massive head and a cry like a frightened baby, Oscar reared onto his back legs violently. Instinct alone kept Madison in the saddle. One foot slipped from the stirrup and she felt herself falling, so she threw her body at Oscar’s neck and held fast. She caught her own wrists in her hands and locked her fingers in place, the skin pinching painfully. She smashed her eyelids together, pressing her face into the silky strands of the horse’s mane so she could no longer see the snake.
Oscar screamed in her ear, drowning out the human sounds around her. Oscar bolted. His front legs slammed into the ground, forcing the stiff leather saddle into Madison’s chest and the air out of her lungs. Hooves pounding on dry earth consumed her senses. Dirt clogged her nostrils and clung to her throat. Her heart raced faster than Oscar galloped.
Just as panic overtook her, the horse jerked to an unexpected stop. Madison’s arms were at the limit of their strength and she slipped in the saddle, leaning drunkenly off the side where her foot hung free of the stirrup. She could feel the sweat drenching his neck. She started to fall and accepted her fate, waiting to feel a bone-jarring impact with the rocky soil. The impact, when it came, was much softer than she imagined. And warmer.
“I’ve got you.”
Arms wrapped around her waist, easing her down.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Madison forced her arms to move, wrapping them around the body holding her up. Square shoulders and the softness of cotton. Madison opened her eyes as CS lowered her to sit on the ground, their arms entwined. The first thing she saw was Oscar. His eyes were wild and rolling and he yanked hard at the reins wrapped firmly around CS’s hand. Seeing him reminded Madison of where she was, and she tried to scramble to her feet, her eyes rolling like the horse’s, scanning the ground around her for the snake.
“Whoa. It’s okay.” CS held her firmly but gently in place. “You’re safe.”
“There’s a snake!”
“You’re not near the snake anymore.” CS jerked her head over her shoulder, indicating how far they’d come. “You’re safe.”
Madison clawed at CS’s arms wrapped around her, but she saw instantly that CS was right. They were a long way from where they’d started, Boots was barely visible, climbing off his horse, at the top of the rise behind CS. Her breathing slowed as she remembered the pound of Oscar’s hooves. CS must have read Oscar’s mind and spurred her horse on to follow the moment he bolted.
They’d nearly reached the end of the row and the steep drop of a ditch on the other side. No doubt Oscar would have bucked her off jumping it and torn through the trellises on the other side. Madison would have broken much more in that fall—probably her neck.
Boots gave a shout in the distance and Madison jumped at the sound. CS’s arm tightened around her. She could feel the winemaker’s breath on her neck, quick and shallow.
“It’s okay,” she said, breathing the words into Madison’s hair.
Madison forced herself to nod, but her fear had not dissipated. She doubted it would for a long time.
“Do you think you could stand?”
She nodded again and scrambled to get her feet beneath her. With a gentle press of muscles into her lower back, CS pulled her to her feet, setting her right so easily she may have weighed nothing at all. Madison’s knees weren’t up to the task of locking at the moment, and CS held on to her, keeping that band of steely muscle tight around Madison’s waist.
“Better?”
“Not really.”
“Worse?”
Madison shook herself, trying to convince herself that the approaching clop of hooves didn’t make her want to curl into a ball in the dirt.
“You okay, Denver?”
Madison nodded again, her eyes searching him for a patch of blood on leg or arm that would account for his shout.
Boots turned his attention to CS. “Oregon rattler. Big one, too. I made enough noise for him to take off. He’ll be at the property line by now.”
CS unwound one of the reins from her hand and passed it up to him. “Take Oscar back to the stables and check him out.”
“What about Denver?”
“I’ll bring her back. It’s okay. Just go.”
Madison turned back to the group. She smiled up at Boots, but he wasn’t fooled. No doubt he could see the strain in her face. She wanted to reach out to Oscar, to stroke his neck and reassure him, but his eyes still reflected the wild fear she felt.
Just as her breathing shallowed and she wondered idly if she was hyperventilating, Boots trotted off and she was left alone with CS and Violet. The more familiar horse was completely unfazed by the whole incident. She nuzzled at CS’s shoulder as she had that day by the tree. The third time she pushed at CS, she nearly knocked the woman into Madison.
“Okay, fine!” CS growled, digging a cube of sugar from her pocket. “Spoiled horse.”
Watching Violet munch away at the sugar with what could only be described as a triumphant grin on her lips, Madison started to chuckle, then laugh. It wasn’t long before the laugh became hysterical and tears started running down her cheeks. She knew in a detached sort of way that she was cracking up. The stress and fear broke over her and the laughter through tears turned into straight tears. CS’s arm was still around her waist, and she buried her face into her strong shoulder as her body shook.
“It’s okay.”
Madison managed to get out through the tears and hiccups, “I know.”
“You’re safe.”
She felt safe. She felt safe with the snake and spooked horse gone. She felt safe with her feet firmly on the ground. She felt safe in the circle of CS’s arms.
The te
ars passed quickly. Her knees solidified and she took a step back, out of CS’s arms, to pull a handkerchief out of her back pocket. It was CS’s bandana. The one she’d given Madison the day they met under the tree. She’d intended to give it back today, but hadn’t gotten to it. Using it now to scrub her face, it occurred to her how often she’d cried in front of CS. The thought brought a flush of embarrassment to her face and she determined to toughen up in the future.
After a long moment, CS asked hesitantly, “Better?”
“Sure.”
“Then swing up. Let’s get you home.”
CS held Violet tight against her side and indicated the stirrup by her knee.
“Absolutely not.”
“You don’t want to go home?”
“I want to walk home. No offense, Violet, but there is no way I’m getting on that horse.”
CS stood straighter and took a step closer, her face deadly serious. “You have to.”
“I can’t.” Madison took a step back, her knees wobbling. “I can’t, CS.”
“If you don’t get up there and ride now, you never will.”
“Fine by me.”
“Not by me.” She reached out, putting a warm hand on Madison’s shoulder. “You can do this. Do you trust me?”
She’d expected the question, but that didn’t make it any less unfair. It was a coercive question. The sort of thing people ask in movies to convince and cajole. She couldn’t turn down the ride now, no matter how great her fear. It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t change her answer.
“Yes.”
CS moved back to Violet’s side, making herself an anchor for Madison. “Left foot in the stirrup and swing over with the right.”
“I know how to mount a horse.”
Madison slipped her foot in the stirrup and hesitated. She knew she wasn’t supposed to. CS told her on the first lesson that it was a capital mistake to stand with one foot in the stirrup for too long. It made her vulnerable to injury if the horse was skittish and started to move. Still, she was afraid and CS was there holding Violet in place so she couldn’t get hurt. She closed her eyes when she pushed up. Her right knee banged painfully into the rear of the saddle, but she corrected it quickly and was seated. With a wriggle of her right foot, she had both feet in place and felt a little more secure.
And Then There Was Her Page 18
