Ana sat down on the other side of Zenna, giving her an encouraging nod and a smile.
“Close your eyes,” Margarita said. Then she started to chant.
It was a dire, strange sound, her strong voice commanding, yet comforting. Zenna focused on the voice. She did as she was told. She tried her best to block all other sensory awareness from her consciousness.
At first, the chanting was calming and soothing. Zenna felt herself dropping into a deep state of relaxation. She drifted into a warm darkness like a feather. Just as she thought she was going to fall asleep, she became aware of another presence in her solitary chamber of comfort.
It felt like when Luca probed her for her emotions. First touching, reaching, searching, ever so gently, like the tentacles of an octopus, carefully exploring a new surrounding. Then there were suddenly more tentacles. The grip on her tightened. She felt suffocated. She tried to focus on her breathing, stilling the panic that started to push up in her in a wave of heat. The feeling of being in a vice increased, the feather lightness turned heavy.
She was falling. Falling. She wanted to scream, but only her mind existed. She couldn’t move or shout. There was only the sensation of falling. The warm night started to explode in shards of light. A kaleidoscope of agony spun around her, pulling her into a vortex of so much despair she wanted to claw to get out. Pain pierced her from all sides. It was bigger than life.
She spun, losing all sense of gravity. Her limbs stretched, ached, and then the pain reached a peak, before she broke through the cutting, splintering shafts, from the dark into white-blue air, dry and brittle, some distant mountain tops below her, and the cries of an eagle in her ears.
She was flying. She flipped upside-down and sideways. She dove downwards, then up. The wind took her breath away. The movement made her stomach churn. She was out of control, and it was frightening. She was moving through the air, but she couldn’t control the flight.
She tried to breathe. Somewhere, in the very back of her mind, she knew someone was breathing next to her, but it was only an echo in the valley of the mountains through which she soared. Her eyes were sharp. Like torturing magnifying glasses, they illuminated scenes that flashed across her visual perimeter. Scenes of things, people, places she didn’t know. It lashed at her. It felt like her body was being ripped apart. Her mind was stabbed with thousands of needles. She wanted out, but she knew the only way to end it was to end the journey.
Instinctively, she knew, if she gave up the flight, the only way out was crushing herself to a pulp on the sharp cliffs below. Her breath caught in her chest in fear. She tried to move her head, to see where she was going, but movement was impossible. She was being manipulated like a puppet. The pain intensified. Then it flattened. It came in another wave, the crest, this time, higher. She thought she couldn’t bear it. She tried to breathe harder. She tried to fight it less.
Her vision fixed on one of a million fleeting still movie pictures. It was one she already knew. It was the one she experienced in the lift in the hotel. This time, it wasn’t simply the image of her being dragged down the corridor. It seemed to last for hours. She saw everything. It didn’t come to her as images, rather as a strange comprehension.
There was the guard, Santiago, Zako, the room, the gun, the killing, the running, Etán and Luca in the car. She went through it all until she felt her body shaking in protest to the strain. Oh, God. Her mind called out. She couldn’t. She was going to fall, but then, the restraints that held her slipped, the suffocating feeling lifted, and she felt herself descend. Smoothly, softly. She drifted far away from the mountains, to the valley. Her heavy body, every limb feeling like it was plucked from her, started to ease, until she turned into a feather, and brushed softly onto the ground.
Slowly, darkness enfolded her, and she felt herself back in the dark, warm abyss, where only the relaxation remained. Very far from her she heard voices. They were calling her, the sound waves they created around her pulled at her, but she was so, so far away, and so tired. She tried to ignore them, but they hauled her toward the pain.
Drawn by the terrifying screams that reached them through the closed door, Etán and Luca jumped, reaching the door simultaneously. It was Etán who pushed the door open. They saw Zenna’s disheveled state. She was huddling on her knees on the carpet screaming with pain.
Margarita sat on her knees in front of Zenna, clutching her hands. Her eyes were closed, and she was chanting.
Luca shook from head to toe. “Mom, do something,” he begged. “She is dying of pain.”
Ana’s face was compassionate. “Luca, pull up your barriers. You’re opening yourself to her pain. Be strong for her. It’s not easy, but she has to get through this.”
Luca turned to Etán. “Do something. I can’t bear to see her like this.”
“This is the only way,” Ana said. “We’re almost there. I need you to be quiet, now.”
Both men moved to the side of the study, Luca watching with his arms across his chest, his hands shaking, and Etán with a tight face.
It felt like a lifetime before Zenna started calming, slouching in Margarita’s arms. When she opened her eyes, she looked distraught and tired.
“Water,” Margarita demanded.
Etán moved to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of mineral water, which he quickly carried to Margarita.
She took the glass and gave it to Zenna. “Drink. You need to drink plenty of water for the remainder of the day.”
Zenna drank.
The older woman took the glass, letting go of Zenna gently. “What did you see, Zenna?”
Zenna was quiet for a long moment. Finally, her voice came low and dry. “The same vision from the lift, only longer. I saw it in more detail.”
“You got the full vision this time and not a portion, because normally you would have blocked out the rest because of the fear and the pain. How do you feel now?”
Zenna touched her temples. “I am dying of pain. I need to lie down. I feel sick.”
Margarita touched her hands again. “You have done very well. I’m proud of you, Zenna. I’m going to give you something to take for the pain. It’s a Ginkgo Biloba tincture. It’s natural. It will take a little longer to work, and it may not work as efficiently as powerful drugs at first, but in the long run, it will help to cure the lingering pain. I need you to rest, to be quiet, and not to get upset or to put strain on your body or mind for the rest of today. You can take it easy tomorrow too. Today’s session was intense. Tomorrow we’ll take it easier.”
“I’m not sure I can do this, again.”
“You can. You will see. Now, let’s get you to your room to rest, all right?”
Sudden heaves of nausea made Zenna double over. She moaned in agony.
Etán stepped forward. “What’s wrong with her, Mother? Margarita?”
“It’s normal, Etán,” Ana said gently. “She is going to feel sick for a while.”
Etán watched as Zenna’s body started shaking uncontrollably. “Is this normal?” He directed his question at Margarita, furious. “Do something.”
He knelt in front of Zenna, trying to reach for her, but she pulled away. For a minute Etán looked confused and then helpless.
Margarita pushed him away gently. “You’re not helping.” She turned to Luca. “Can you help us to take her to her room?”
Without another word Luca went behind Zenna, falling to his knees, folding his arms around her, his head resting on top of hers. Shivers visibly raked through her body. She gritted her teeth.
“Relax, Sugar,” he said against her ear. “Relax. It will soon be all over.” Her body slumped somewhat in Luca’s rocking embrace. “That’s it. Let it all out. Relax.”
Etán looked at Luca, his arms around Zenna and felt his heart being ripped from his chest. She had chosen Luca. Why should he be surprised? He had been nothing but a jerk, hurting her the way he did by insulting her mother with something that was so painful to her. This sucked. He watche
d Luca getting to his feet, lifting Zenna in his arms, and carrying her down the hallway. He contemplated following, but then changed his mind. Zenna didn’t need him. She needed Luca. Quietly, he walked from the room.
Margarita turned to Ana. “One of them is going to claim her, but not the one to who her heart belongs.”
Ana smiled. “The future is a hard thing to predict.”
Zenna’s ordeal shook the household. Teresa was quiet and subdued. Ana was pensive. Luca got on his bike and took off like a madman. Margarita was exhausted. It had taken a greater toll on her than she revealed. She had gone to bed in the early evening. Etán took a cup of tea to his mother who sat silently on the veranda.
Ana took the warm drink gratefully. “You’re such a honey, Etán. Thank you.” She pulled a wrap tighter around her shoulders. “Luca was so very upset. I didn’t mean for him to see it. He’s more sensitive than you.”
Etán’s jaw tightened, but he smiled. “Luca will be fine. He just needed to go and blow off some steam.”
Ana sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you through that. I know you are the strong one, but you were upset, too.”
“I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
Ana smiled, knowing exactly what was on her son’s mind. “Zenna is stronger than you think, Etán.”
“Oh, of that I have no doubt. She’s got strength in bucketfuls. I didn’t like what I saw today. Are you sure your friend knows what she’s doing?”
Ana sipped the tea and closed her eyes in approval. “Your tea tastes so good. Margarita is the best, Etán. Trust me.” She searched her oldest son’s face. “Why don’t you take Zenna a cup? It will do her good. Add lots of sugar.”
Etán lingered for a moment, turned, and walked back to the house to do exactly as his mother had suggested, not because he was such a considerate person, according to himself, but because he was dying to see Zenna, to see with his own eyes that she was all right.
He knocked on her door, carrying a mug of steaming tea in one hand. He didn’t wait for a reply, scared she might deny him entrance into her private domain. She was lying in bed under a light mohair blanket and sat up when he entered.
“Brought you some tea,” he said, sitting down on the side of the bed. “Feeling better?”
“A little.” She wiped a hand over her face. “Thanks. For the tea.”
“It’s hot. Careful.” He deposited it on the bedside table. “You were brave, Zenna. I’m very proud of you.”
She smiled a wry little smile. “Not really. If I could, I would have run. Margarita held me captive.” It was meant to be a joke, but Etán didn’t smile.
“I brought you something.” He got up, went through the door, and returned with a bottle of wine. It had a big, red bow around the neck. He held it out to her. “Our first orders are ready for dispatch. I wanted you to have the first bottle.”
She took it and looked at the label. “Your 2008 Carmenere.” She turned the bottle to read the description on the back. “The deep, dark, purple color, exuberant nose, and mouth-filling palate all point to a very special wine. The fresh berries, black pepper, fig, cinnamon, and dates on the nose follow through to the lush, velvety palate. Nicely structured with fine tannins for an elegant and complex wine with a long, intriguing finish.” She looked up.
“Congratulations, Etán. You’ve done well. The reviews are excellent. Cristian told me the orders are rolling in.” She studied the bottle she clutched in her hands. “I love this label. I’ll keep the bottle ... as a reminder ... of our good work together.”
He paused. “Listen, about earlier this afternoon, I owe you an apology.”
“No, you don’t. I was out of place. I shouldn’t have meddled in your private affairs.” She put the bottle on the bedside table and looked at her hands.
“I believe I owe you an explanation, at least.”
“None needed. Really.”
“No, please.” He touched her hand, and waited until she turned her head back to him. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was angry. Angry with Marcos for doing what he did to you ... because I have never stopped being angry at Sanita for what she did to me.”
Zenna felt an oddness rise between them. She wasn’t sure she needed to know the intimacy of what she guessed was coming. “It’s all right, Etán, you don’t have to talk about it.”
“Please.” His expression was pained. “I hurt you, and it hurts me more than you can imagine. I lashed out in anger, and it wasn’t fair. I’m not going to lie to you and say I didn’t mean it, because I did.”
Zenna flinched in surprise.
“At least the part about Marcos being a sod. It’s not how it sounds. What I mean to say, really, is that I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Zenna cleared her throat. “That’s noble.”
“A noble intention that wasn’t expressed in noble words. I’m sorry for being such a prick.” He rubbed his fingers over hers, absent-mindedly. “Sanita cheated on me, on us.” It was hard for him to meet Zenna’s gaze. “I was the last one to find out. She had an affair with one of my friends.”
Her heart contracted with compassion. She squeezed his hand. “That’s horrible. Is that why you got divorced?”
He pursed his lips. “It set us onto a path of blame, hurt, anger, lies, and resentment. The divorce came after.”
Zenna felt her heart sinking. “There was no way to fix it?”
Etán looked her square in the eyes. “At first, I tried. It wasn’t just her fault, you know, as easy as it would have been to shift all the blame on her. I was very busy. We hardly spent time together. It was the time of the harvest. I traveled a lot from this vineyard to the ones in the Colchagua and Casablanca valleys. Sanita liked to go out, to party, and I often let her go alone because I was caught up with work or running the estate. It had to happen, eventually. She’s an attractive and lively woman. She needs attention. When not enough of it came from me, she found it elsewhere.
“When I found out, it was too late. I battled to get over it, to forgive her.” He grew quiet, staring at Zenna’s hands. “I guess I still haven’t forgiven her. I tried everything to fix our mess, but she kept on going back to him. Eventually, she asked me for a divorce. I begged, I pleaded, but she refused to see me.” When he looked into her eyes again, his smile was ironic. “Until today. I suppose that Gossip article had a lot to do with it.”
Zenna smiled, despite the fact her heart was clenching for some inexplicable reason. “So, you should really thank me, then? For making her see the light?”
Etán’s smile turned sad. “I could, but I’m not going to. Nothing has changed. That was what I wanted to explain to you. I cannot forgive her. More so, I cannot forgive myself, for my part in it all. When I said it was over, it was over. When I said if she left, I wouldn’t take her back, I meant it.”
Zenna bit her lip. “Isn’t that a bit harsh? You’re being very hard on yourself.”
“Maybe, but that’s the only way to survive. I won’t let my heart be broken again, and neither should you. You are way too special.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek.
Zenna felt a heaviness weighing her down. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what Etán was saying between the lines. He was saying their kissing meant nothing. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, and he couldn’t care for her one way or the other. She felt more hurt than she should have. Why should she be bothered? Anger grew inside the heaviness that nestled in her chest. Her throat felt tight. It was almost painful to speak.
“I said I wanted to win Marcos back. I didn’t say I was going to love him again.”
Etán’s eyes turned soft. “That’s no good, Zenna. A girl like you is not made for revenge. A girl like you should love and be loved. Properly.”
She pulled her fingers from his, giving him a hard glare. “I thought I only needed to get laid. Isn’t that how you put it?”
He sighed. “I say things because I care about you. I came here to apologize.”
&n
bsp; Zenna lifted her chin. “Well, you did. So, now you can go.”
He looked at her, undecided, for just another second, before he sighed and got up. “Your tea is getting cold,” he said gently, before he walked from her room.
Chapter Nineteen
Ana knocked on Zenna’s door after breakfast the following morning. “I’m baking a chocolate fondue cake for tea time. I could use some company in the kitchen.”
Zenna looked up from her computer screen, trying to smile. “I’m sure Etán will have a heart attack if I’m one more day late with this report,” she said good naturedly.
Ana crossed her arms. “I’m his mother. I say he can wait. Besides, he’s not allowed to work you too hard. Neither should you overwork yourself. Save your energy for the work you’re doing with Margarita.”
Zenna’s face dropped. “I don’t know if I can do that again.”
Ana straightened, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Oh, nonsense. Of course you can. Besides,” she said in a conspiracy tone, “doesn’t chocolate cake make it all better?”
Despite her reservation, Zenna felt her spirit lifting. “Oh, all right. How can I say no to you?” She got up and followed Ana to the kitchen. “Doesn’t Pedro need you back at your Santiago home?”
Zenna felt guilty for stealing Ana from her husband’s side. They seemed to be inseparable.
Ana waved an arm nonchalantly. “Pedro is a big boy. He’s coped on his own before. Besides, my absence from time to time is a good reminder of what I’m worth to him.”
Zenna took one of the high chairs by the island kitchen counter, watching Ana taking a pan, measuring cups, and a wooden spoon from the cupboards.
Ana placed everything in front of her and pushed an open recipe book toward Zenna. “That was my mother’s recipe.” She took flour and a slab of dark chocolate from the pantry, pushing the chocolate toward Zenna. “Can you break that for me?” She handed her a small bowl. “How are you feeling today?”
The Winemaker Page 25
