Zenna thought about it. “Tired.” She rolled her shoulders. “A bit stiff.”
Ana poured flour into a sifter over a bowl. “You did well, yesterday. It was a powerful session.”
Zenna traced a finger through a bit of flour that had sifted onto the counter. “It was downright scary. I was frightened to death. It felt like I was going to die.”
“But you knew you weren’t, right?”
“Yes, but that didn’t make it any easier. It was almost too painful to bear.”
Ana regarded Zenna for a thoughtful moment before she spoke again. “It would have been easier if you had been prepared, even a little bit, from childhood. You said you got the gift from your father?”
“That’s what my mother said. I can’t remember ever seeing my father acting strange or even talking about it. I don’t think he had the same kind of discomfort or pain with his visions. My mother refused to believe what was obviously happening to me. First, she blamed it on some kind of physical or hormonal imbalance. She tried to find cures by dragging me to every imaginable doctor and psychiatrist.”
“Your father didn’t tell you anything at all about why you were having these visions or how to control them? How far are you with that chocolate?”
Zenna pushed the bowl to Ana and licked her finger. “No. My father didn’t know about my visions. He left before the visions started. My mother always believed what my father had was a psychological problem, and she was terrified when it started with me.” Zenna laughed bitterly. “I can’t tell you how many shrinks I saw or how many pills I had to swallow during those first years.”
Ana’s gaze was compassionate. “Until you started hiding it?”
“Yep. That was the only way to make her stop taking me to useless doctors.”
Ana sighed. “It could have been so different. Your father should have known, should have had a feeling, some instinct about you. He should have contacted your mother later, to ask if you had shown any signs.”
Ana placed the chocolate in a metal bowl on top of a pot of boiling water and turned the gas down a fraction. “Like I’ve told you before, the gifts in our family come from my father’s side. It’s totally genetic. I guess it is in your case too. If not given the right guidance, it can become a burden instead of a blessing.”
Zenna grimaced. “You can say that again. It’s never been anything except a pain in the buttocks.” She wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. “My father never contacted us again. I think my mother tried to reach him. Many times. She still loves him. Even to this day.”
Ana chuckled. “It’s a pity your father wasn’t around to help you master your visions. Then you wouldn’t have been in this situation.” She spooned butter into the flour, clutching the bowl to her body.
Zenna rested her chin in her hands, watching the circular movements of the wooden spoon. “‘Situation’ referring to the people who have been trying to lay their hands on me?”
“Yes. If you had control over your ability, you wouldn’t have been so valuable and useful to them.” Ana looked up, her hand stilling on the spoon. She looked at Zenna hesitantly for a moment. “Do you know what they are after, these men?”
Zenna dropped the napkin in the garbage bin next to her. She shrugged. “If you mean do I know they will drug me, induce me into an involuntary coma, and attach electrodes to my brain, then yes. I do know what will happen to me if I get caught. I didn’t know before. I know now. I read some articles on the internet.”
Ana frowned. “That part is true, yes, but do you know why they’ll do it?”
Zenna shrugged again. “Research?”
Ana scooped the melted chocolate into the mixing bowl. “Research will only come much later, when their primary reason for wanting to lay their hands on you, as you’ve put it, is served, when you are no longer of use to them. You will be of use as long as your mind is healthy.”
Ana scraped the dough into a buttered cake tin before her eyes met Zenna’s. “They will use your abilities to gain information.”
“Information on what?”
“Anything they may need at that point in time. Information about warfare, military intelligence, tracking criminals. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I guess.” Zenna couldn’t help but feel slightly shaken. “Can they do that?”
Ana turned to place the dish into the eye level oven. “There are powerful people out there, Zenna.” She closed the oven door and turned, once again, “Much more powerful than us, more powerful than what my family can fight.”
Zenna straightened on the high chair. “Why are you telling me this?”
Ana untied the apron at her back. “Because no one can protect you better than yourself. Do you undestand what I’m saying?”
Zenna watched her for a long, silent moment. “You’re telling me how important working with Margarita is. Why help me?”
Ana took the chair opposite Zenna. “In my family, I have been fortunate enough to have had all the guidance I could ever need. It helped me to train my sons. I believe we can help you, and it is our duty to help others like us.”
Zenna flinched. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine the physical pain she was going to feel every time she tried to force a flash through her brain.
As if reading her mind, Ana leaned forward, placing a hand on her. “It will be hard in the beginning and painful. Like yesterday. As you learn, it will get better. Until there’s just the control and no more pain. You have to keep the end goal in mind when it gets tough.”
Zenna took a deep breath. She slowly withdrew her hand from Ana’s and studied her palms, the lines her mother had read so often to try and predict her daughter’s fate. Now Zenna looked at her hands and wished she could predict her future.
“I wish there was another way around all of this.”
Ana shook her head sadly. “There isn’t. However, once you master your ability, you will be out of danger’s path. There is a lot of good work you can do with your talent.”
Zenna’s head shot up. “I don’t want to publicize it to the world. I don’t intend to work with it at all.”
Ana smiled sadly. “We have never publicized our gifts to the world, but we use them every day to do a lot of good. You just need to learn how and when to use it. That, my dear, is a huge responsibility.”
Zenna blew out a heavy sigh. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not in for a joy ride?”
Ana’s smiled deepened. “So, you accept you not only have to learn, but you also have a huge responsibility resting on your shoulders? That you will try to work hard at it? Make good of it?”
Zenna looked away. “Do I have a choice?”
Ana’s voice drew back her gaze. “There is always a choice. It’s up to you.”
Zenna jumped off the high chair and strode to the coffee pot. She held the pot up toward Ana. “Coffee?” Ana nodded.
She poured them both a cup. “This is a prep talk for what’s coming later today, isn’t it? It’s going to be worse, and you know it. That’s why you’re baking a cake. The cake is not for teatime. The cake is for me.”
“Good girl,” Ana purred. “You’re quick in comprehending. It will be hard, but you can do it.”
Zenna carried the two cups to the counter. “What about your ability? How does that help to bring about any good?”
“I can help prevent tragedy. I get a premonition of something, and, if I focus my mind on it, I can exercise the right action to prevent some very sad things.”
Zenna cupped her mug. “For example?”
Ana thought for a while. “My neighbor’s three year old son once went missing. They looked everywhere, but couldn’t find him for two days. When they called me, I managed to pull up a vision of him, lost in the vineyard that borders on both of our properties. I told them where to look for him, and they found him. He wandered out there all by himself. No one would have ever thought to go looking for him that far out. It didn’t make any sense, but he got there.”
“Isn�
��t that interfering with the future, changing the future?”
“Fate is what we make it, Zenna. If we can make fate better, we should. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes. I’ve never really believed in fate. What about Margarita? How does her gift help people?”
“In her case, it is mostly sadder. She can, for instance, tell the police where to find a dead body or, on a scale of lesser emotions, where someone had lost something important to them.”
“She is looking for Santiago’s body, isn’t she?”
Ana nodded. “It takes a great deal of energy, Zenna, and right now, her energy is focused on you.”
“Did you ever see things that were going to happen in your own family?”
“Of course. We do all the time.”
“Did you see the ... problems that were going to result between Etán and Sanita?”
“I did. I had a strong feeling from the very first day I met that girl. There are things with which I refuse to meddle. Things the boys have to learn for themselves.”
“What if Etán is so emotionally scarred he will be unhappy for the rest of his life?”
Ana smiled confidently. “Oh, he is not so emotionally scarred. He will be happy again.”
“You sound so sure,” Zenna said.
“Of course I am,” Ana said brightly. “Now, shall we set some plates outside? I do believe our cake is almost ready.”
Zenna nodded. If anything, she needed comfort food today.
Despite everyone’s protests, Zenna worked the morning away in her suite. Ana and Etán wanted her to rest before her afternoon schedule with Margarita, but Zenna didn’t want to start feeling like more of a guest than she already felt. She still needed to earn her keep and to feel she was actually doing something for the salary she was paid, not to mention the benefits, like free accommodation and a powerful family’s protection. She felt awkward that she couldn’t repay the favor in full. Working for Etán didn’t feel like enough to cover half of her debt.
She worked through lunch and ate a quick sandwich at her desk in her suite. She was busy reading through a review translation when someone knocked on her open door. She turned to see Emmie leaning in the doorframe, her arms crossed, a big grin on her face.
“Hi stranger,” Emmie said in a friendly voice. “Thought I’d drop in to see how you’re feeling. Etán said you’re not coming into the office for a few days.”
Zenna raised an eyebrow. “He did?”
“He sure did. Told us you were going to go through some tough times, so I thought I’d come and give you some emotional support.”
Zenna leaned back in her chair. “He is so protective.” She sighed. “I wish he would stop treating me like his baby sister.”
Emmie straightened and walked to an armchair next to Zenna’s desk. “May I?” She motioned to the chair.
“Sure.” Zenna turned her swivel chair so she could face the younger girl. “Do you want some coffee or tea?”
“No, I slipped away from the office. If Etán finds out, he’ll be really upset. Thank you, anyway.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, are you upset about being treated like Etán’s baby sister because you feel smothered or because you have less than sisterly feelings for him?” Emmie smiled sweetly.
Despite her cool act, Zenna felt her cheeks flushing. “The first option, of course. I hate being smothered.”
“Right,” Emmie said, her tone saying something else.
“Oh, what?” Zenna clasped her hands together.
Emmie looked at the ceiling. “Nothing. Anyway, I’m glad you look all right. The way Etán was shaking and screaming at all of us yesterday, I thought you had a stroke or something.” She got up. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks. That’s very kind, Emmie.”
Emmie waved a hand. “It’s nothing. By the way, Luca was in the office again this morning. I told him I was going to slip away to come and see you. He told me to tell you he was going to take you out for a nice, long walk this afternoon after your session.”
Zenna sighed, not looking forward to the session with Margarita.
Emmie grinned again. “Luca seems to be spending an awful lot of time at the estate and the office lately.” She walked to the door with provocative cat steps.
At the door she turned. “I wonder why?” She smiled, winking at Zenna, before she breezed through the door.
Zenna turned back to her desk, wiping a hand over her face. Suddenly, she felt tired.
“I told you not to work.”
She jumped, catching her breath, before she turned to see Etán standing in her door.
“Gosh, you gave me a fright.”
He looked in the direction of the hallway. “What was Emmie doing here?”
Zenna gave him a sour look. “Checking up on me after you told the whole office about my ordeal.”
“I had to warn them. They need to know. If anything happens, I don’t need a bunch of ignorant people around me.”
She sighed heavily again. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on you.”
“Now the world is checking up on me?”
“If Emmie and I count for the world, then yes.”
She smiled, despite herself. “What do you want, Etán? I’m busy.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “I want you to stop being busy.”
“And do what? Be bored?”
He closed the distance between her door and her desk with long, easy strides, stopping next to her desk, too close for comfort. Zenna wheeled her chair away from him a little. His lips curled into an amused smile.
“Does my presence make you anxious?”
Zenna flushed, feeling caught out. “Not, in the least,” she lied, lifting her chin in defiance.
Etán closed the small distance between them, turning the chair so she faced him, his hands pressing on the armrests. “In that case, if you don’t mind me in your face,” he said smiling, “I came to tell you to stop working and to take a break. If you’re really bored, I bet I can find you something more relaxing than work to do.”
Zenna felt her heart racing, dismayed at his effect on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes drilled into hers, a suppressed smile making them shine. “Read between the lines.”
“I prefer directness as you may have noticed. I don’t do anything between the lines.”
“How about between the sheets?”
“That’s inappropriate!”
“I can see your heart is beating faster. Your cheeks are flushed. I can smell your feminine heat, your arousal.”
“You are a beast!”
“You are tempting me with smelling too good.”
“I thought we had this conversation about smelling stuff in my hair.”
“It’s not your hair I’m referring to.”
“What is wrong with you today?”
“I don’t know. Tell me. What’s wrong? Too close for comfort? Are you going to deny, again, there is an attraction between us?”
“Whether there is an attraction or not is beside the point.”
“Why would it be irrelevant?”
“You said your heart has been turned to stone, remember?”
“You said you need to get laid.”
“I did not. You did.”
“Did I? Sorry, excuse me for getting meddled up in the details here, but it is getting very hot in this room or is it just me?”
“I think it’s rather cold. It must be that hardened, stone heart of yours turning everything into ice.”
“I don’t need a warm heart to keep you warm, Zenna.”
“Your proposal leaves me cold.”
His arms moved, brushing against hers. Her face flushed even further.
“Why would my arms around you leave you cold? It’s contradictory to the response I see in your body.”
“You were the one saying I shouldn’t get into one-night stands.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot. You changed your tune. You are the exception to the rule, are you?”
“Yes, because I promise you, once I get into your bed, you are not going to want to let me out. So it won’t be just a one-night stand.”
“You are pretty sure of yourself for someone who got dumped by your wife.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch,” she echoed
“My words offended you?”
“Very much.”
“Then why are you so turned on?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I think you know the answer to that.” He smiled awkwardly.
“Just because I get turned on once in a while, doesn’t mean I feel like being used.”
“That’s my girl. Now you’re talking like someone who values herself.”
“So you invite me to sleep with you, and you are happy I declined? You would have been disappointed if I said yes?”
“On the contrary. I doubt anything about you can be a disappointment.”
“Then you don’t make any sense.”
“Marcos is a bastard. I am not.”
“So me sleeping with, say Marcos or Luca doesn’t work for you. Sleeping with you is just hunky dory.”
“Of course. I care for you in a way they don’t.”
“In what way is that?”
“A way I can’t explain.”
“That’s a pity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because I can. It’s a physical way, Etán. Would you have ever asked Sanita to sleep with you before you married her?”
He looked surprised. “Who’s to say we didn’t?”
“A girl knows these things. Especially a girl like me. So, the answer is no. You wouldn’t have asked her.”
“No, I respected her. I wanted her to know that. It’s been different for us. She comes from a very prominent Catholic family.”
“So you don’t respect me?” Her voice was pained.
“I do, Zenna. Don’t you know that? Isn’t trying to protect you all about respecting you? I will never, ever, marry again. That doesn’t mean I can’t care for your needs.”
The Winemaker Page 26
