Biting Winds

by Shawna Ireland

  “You’re sure we can be in here?” Jessie asked, not wanting to look nosey or overstep her welcome.

  “Yes, it was one of the rooms Mr. Danvonne encouraged us to use, knowing that we would have a lot of downtime. That, and besides not having cable, there’s no Wi-Fi.” Stacey cringed, but Jessie couldn’t imagine ever needing the internet if she had a room like this back home. She would be wearing bifocals after a year from reading so much.

  Jessie planned on spending the rest of the late morning reading book titles because there were so many. Sangio had titles from Mary Shelley, Gustave Flaubert, Leo Tolstoy, and Henry James to Harper Lee, Jane Austin, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bram Stoker, and Thaddeus Shakespeare. However, it was the historic books that caught her eye. They were hard covered journals encased in black leather, with the name Danvonne embroidered in metallic silver stitching, and each journal covered a quarter of a century. They started in the 1700’s, and the last one covered the years 1850 through 1875.

  Jessie set herself up with a chicken salad sandwich and a large glass of iced tea and headed out to the rose garden. It was as impressive to the vineyard. The roses were in full bloom, and the rich aroma of sweet, tart, and creamy roses wafted through the slight breeze. The variety was beyond anything Jessie had seen, and she could easily envision herself getting lost in the paradise of roses had she not been so focused on learning the history of Mr. Sangio Danvonne.

  Chapter 30

  Sangio was uncertain how this would end, but he did not anticipate the trepidation he would feel at the possibility that Jessica would be revolted by what he was, but he had no other option.

  “Jessica?” No one answered when he lightly rapped on her door, so he tried a little harder, and began to panic as if she were already gone.

  “Mr. Danvonne, you’re back! I’m pretty sure Jessie is reading in the garden. At least, that was where she was when I last saw her. She’s been waiting for you to get back, so you may want to let her know you’re home,” Stacey informed him.

  Sangio rapidly and eagerly headed for the garden, stopping to admire the scene when came upon her. She looked as if she belonged. If it were possible, Sangio knew his heart would have skipped a beat. Several beats for that matter. Jessie was lying back in the garden on the same Adirondack chair his mother used to lounge in to get lost in her novels.

  Sangio had only seen Jessie in sweats, shorts, tank tops, and cotton pajamas. The last time he saw her he was setting her up on the floor with a pillow and quilt as she slept, still shuddering from her violent tears. She had looked like a child, frail, breakable, and hurt. He had not prepared himself for the healthy, flushed image of beauty in blue jeans and a perfectly fitted ivory lace tunic. Jessie was holding a book in her lap, reading with flames of intent in her eyes, flipping pages slowly with one hand, and holding a glass of tea in the other. She looked strong, as if backed by the bravery of an army of soldiers. Her hair flowed all around her, off her shoulders, down her back, around the chair, even on to the pages of the book. It shined, reflecting and absorbing the golden rays of the sun. Sangio stared hard at Jessie, knowing he could not endure without her.

  As if sensing the intensity of his stare, Jessie looked up from her book, quickly closed it and jumped up.

  “Sangio, you’re back,” she said, her eyes dazzling him that much more. “We need to talk.”

  “I know. First, come with me,” he insisted as he dropped a pair of sandals he purchased in town at her feet, noticing the newly painted nails. She must have been feeling much better. Jessie put the sandals on and followed Sangio around to the front of the estate.

  Sangio handed Jessie a key and pointed to a brand new silver Lexus, parked next to his.

  “What is this?” Jessie asked, confused.

  “A key to your car,” Sangio began, but before he could finish Jessie was handing the key back to him.

  “A car? You can’t buy me, Sangio. I’m not for sale.”

  “I would never insult you by suggesting you could be bought. Listen, please. You have some difficult questions for me, I know. But in turn, you must expect that I have difficult answers to respond with, some that you will not be prepared to hear. Therefore, I want you to have this car, so you know that you are free. It is a token of your freedom. Not a bribe. I want you to know that I did not bring you here with intentions of changing your life. I have hopes, but not intentions if that makes sense. Regardless, you are free to leave if that is your choice,” Sangio finished.

  “I can’t take a Lexus from you as a token of anything. It’s too much.” She continued holding the key out to him.

  “Then abandon it. Drive yourself away from here if that is your choice and leave it on the side of the road. You can call me and tell me where to pick it up, or just leave it, and it will be traced back to me eventually. Unless you chose to stay, even for a little while,” he trailed off. “Come on, let’s walk.”

  They hadn’t even entered the vineyard rows before Jessie started firing the questions.

  “What were you doing at the campground?”

  Sangio was surprised that this was the question Jessie started off with.

  “I hadn’t been home in many years, and I was contemplating whether I really wanted to return, or head somewhere else. When I decided that I did want to come home, I had to make arrangements, to make sure the estate was ready to receive me.” He answered what was probably the easiest question to come.

  Jessie stopped walking and looked Sangio square in the eyes, “Did I die, Sangio? When Dave hit me with the rock?”

  "Yes and no. Your heart was still beating, but you were brain dead. It was just a matter of time.”

  “Are you a doctor?” she asked, calmer than she should have.

  “I am not.”

  “But you saved me?” she clarified. “It was you, right?”

  “I did,” he validated.

  “Tell me about my injuries,” Jessie requested, turning her back on him hoping he wouldn’t see the fear in her eyes.

  “Are you sure?” he cautioned, but she still waited patiently for him to begin. “What do you remember?”

  “I remember falling backwards and hitting my head on something hard. Probably a curb. I remember him dragging me in the sand. And I remember him holding a huge rock over my head,” Jessie choked the last memory out.

  “I heard you scream out,” he started in a mournful voice. “I tried to get to him before he brought the rock down on you, but it happened so fast. Your nose and cheekbones were shattered, and your forehead was split.” Sangio coughed, trying to keep his composure, but failing. “And the blood came so fast, and the swelling was instantaneous. I listened to what should have been your last breaths, and I gave you my--, I fed you a healing medication. You were as good as dead when I got to you. Your head was so bad Jessie. I could hear your heart beating, barely, but there was no chance your brain could sustain such a blow.”

  “Then how am I here?” Jessie asked through tears.

  “The medication healed you.” He chickened out, not knowing how to say it.

  “And you brought me here knowing your medicine would work?”

  “Yes, and I knew the hospitals wouldn’t understand the rapid healing.”

  Jessie was sobbing again, trying to get the next question out, but not even wanting to hear the name again, let alone mention it, but she had to know.

  “And Dave?”

  “He ran. I don’t even think he saw me. He panicked when he saw what he did, and he fled. I had to choose fast, to help you or to rip him to shreds.” Sangio finished the sentence with fury running through his bones.

  Jessie composed herself momentarily. She walked forward for a minute, and turned around and walked back to Sangio.

  “Jessie, the medicine I was referring to, it was--”

  “Stop, I have one more question.” She was bracing herself for the answer, just as Sangio was bracing himself for the question.

  “Ask! I will not lie.”

 
“Am I a vampire too?”

  Sangio was unprepared for Jessie’s question, and he stood dumbfounded, unable to process her words. Did she say too?

  “Too?” Sangio treaded lightly.

  “Yes Sangio, too. Am I a vampire like you? Did you turn me into a vampire? Is that how you saved me?”

  “No, Jessica! I did not turn you into a vampire. I would not share this curse with anyone else, especially not you. Your heart was still beating when I--”

  “Fed me your blood.”

  “Yes, healed you with my blood.” Sangio felt as if the vineyard was spinning, “But how did you know?”

  “What? That you’re a vampire?” she laughed as she wiped her eyes. “Honestly, I thought I imagined it, romanticized about it to pass the time away at camp. I spent most of the camping trip reading the same page of my book over and over, writing my own stories in my head.”

  “I thought you were just a slow reader,” Sangio admitted with a laugh.

  “Actually, I’m a very fast reader, but you were more fascinating than a novel. I couldn’t figure out what a sophisticated, polished, mysterious man was doing in a campsite alone. I doubted you would ever have difficulty finding a camping partner. You were never dirty or sweaty, and I never saw food or a cooler in your cove. You didn’t even eat the snacks I set out when you came to play cards.”

  “So you guessed vampire?” Sangio asked.

  “Ha! No, I guessed gay at first, but that didn’t explain the lack of eating, or the allergy to the sun.”

  Sangio burst out laughing at that revelation.

  "So?” he urged her to continue.

  “So, I would have had to be gay myself not to pick up on certain vibes between us.” She blushed, looking into his eyes for confirmation, and receiving it. “And you always shook hands while wearing gloves. I read a lot of books. I’ve heard a lot of stories working as a nurse. So, I thought maybe you were a vampire. And I prayed to God that you were a vampire and not gay.”

  “No, you didn’t!” Sangio laughed, only half believing her.

  “I did! I swear I did! By then I realized I made a huge mistake marrying Dave, and I had to find a way out. You were a great distraction,” she laughed with a little shrug of her shoulders.

  “I’m shocked Jessica. First, I didn’t know you were so damn funny!” They both laughed. “Secondly, I can’t believe you knew.”

  “I didn’t really know,” Jessie corrected him. “I thought I was nuts. I was pretty sure they were going to have to commit me to a mental hospital when I found my way back home. I seriously thought I was nutting up. But then I woke up here, and you walked in and convinced me that I was still alive. You looked at me, more like into me, and I knew something happened. Something unnatural,” she said a little too seriously.

  “Let me ask another question, Jessica?” Sangio asked as they made their way back to the rose garden.

  “Ask! I will not lie,” she said, mimicking his previous response.

  "Are you not repulsed by me? By what I am?” Sangio asked.

  “A vampire?”

  “A monster, Jessie. Unnatural. From the devil. Night walker. Blood drinker.”

  Jessie walked up to Sangio, taking his hand and removed his glove, dropping it to the earth. She placed his hand under her shirt on her heart, letting Sangio feel the warmth, and the thumping of her strong heart. After a minute of standing in silence, with his eyes closed, feeling the life force of the woman he loved, she took his hand, turned it palm side up, and brought it to her lips, kissing the center of his palm.

  “You, Sangio Alexandre Danvonne, could never be a monster. You saved me from a monster, and you gave me my life back. Does that sound like a monster to you?” Jessie scolded him.

  “Wait!” Sangio stood, shocked again by Jessie revealing his full name. “You know my middle name?”

  Jessie pointed to the historic books she had been poring over, and then putting her finger against her lips, “Shhh. There will be plenty of time for questions. What I want to talk about now is revenge.”

  Jessie set her car key on top of the Danvonne Family journals, took Sangio’s ungloved hand, and headed back the mansion.

  Chapter 31

  Sangio paid Beth and Stacey generously for their services, as well as their silence, leaving the ladies gaping by the front hallway.

  “This is too much!” Beth laughed at the same time that she stuffed the cash into her vintage brown leather woven purse, tightly wrapping the loop fastener.

  “If you need anything, Mr. Danvonne, please call me directly.” Stacey handed him a slip of paper with her cell number on it. “And Beth wrote her number on it as well.”

  “Yes, anything at all!” Beth reiterated. “It doesn’t even have to be health related. We have many talents!”

  Stacey nudged Beth in the side, signaling that she was laying it on a bit thick, and though slightly embarrassed, the weight of Beth’s purse made it hard to do anything but bubble with excitement.

  The three ladies exchanged teary goodbyes, promising to meet for coffee or a drink sometime soon. Though there were barely a handful of sentences shared between Jessie and her nurses, the bond that formed from that which she overcame while in their care was strong.

  Sangio and Jessie watched the nurses drive off in Beth’s 1974 VW Bug, painted the same color of an orange cream Popsicle, before turning back into the house where Sangio gave Jessie a full historical tour of the mansion, starting in the two-story foyer.

  The foyer, adorned to honor the significance of receiving important visitors, for both social and business pleasures, was decorated by his great-great-grandparents, Jacob and Frances Danvonne. The first impression upon entering the home gives one a sense of the character of the designer. The room was open, high, and spacious. An elegant cream Victorian couch with hand-tufted cloth, and meticulously carved mahogany, woven with foliage, settled in the heart of the room. Complementing the sofa on the right side was a matching love seat, and on the left, were two matching chairs. The ensemble of furniture surrounded a distressed steamer trunk, lifted off the ground by four mahogany pegs, transforming it into a coffee table.

  Looking up from the sitting area, the staircase rose from the floor, covered in rich burgundy carpeting, diminishing the opportunity to slip on carefully polished marble steps. Ivory painted iron spindles spiked into the crest and base of the ornate mohogany banister frame. The same mahogany wood not only accented the furniture, windowsills, and curtain rods, but also ornamented the massive frames that clung to the family portraits hanging proudly throughout the entire room. The elegant decor proved that the family not only had exceptional taste, but equally treasured their family.

  There were oil paintings of Sangio’s ancestors, including his father, mother, and brother, as well as Sangio himself. The one thing their pictures had in common, that set them apart from the other portraits were the smiles. You could not see them in their serious faces, but in the gleam of their eyes. There were paintings of many generations of Danvonne's standing in front of the stone wall that still stood to the east of the vineyard to date, though reinforced for stability throughout the years. Sangio’s great-grandfather built the wall with his own hands, not allowing anyone else to help. He gathered boulders throughout the estate and carried, rolled, and wheeled them to their destination, then stacked them slowly while waiting for the mortar mix to dry. There was no practical purpose for the stone wall. It was built as a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present, to impress his great-grandmother, Frances, who once saw a painting of a stone wall with grape leaves growing rampant over it that she fell in love with. Jacob and Frances had many cups of afternoon tea, midday picnics, and Sunday brunches on blankets while sipping wines that were produced from their own fermented grapes.

  Sangio allowed Jessie to open each door on the lower level, and she marveled at ever detail whether it was a closet, supply room, office, library, parlor, family room, dining room, game room, or guest bathroom. Also on the lower le
vel were three different guest quarters. Each guest quarter had its own antique bedroom set, including a four-poster king-size bed, chest of drawers, bureau, mirror, jewelry box, footlocker, and nightstands. Each room also had a sitting area with a vintage chaise set up with a complementary chair and round table, making the sitting area perfect for tea for two, or a book for one. Last, but not least, each guest quarter had a bistro-style table with two chairs, lightly covered with doilies, resting in a nook of bay windows.

  While the quarters Jessie was set up in was light, pastel, open, and scattered with bouquets of roses the other two guest quarters were darker, with heavier, richer fabrics.

  “Actually,” Sangio admitted when Jessie pointed out the differences, “your quarters were just as dark when you arrived, but your nurses lightened it up, for which I was very grateful, since we had enough of a somber mood tending to your injuries.”

  “I never really thanked you, Sangio. For everything. You, just being there at the camp, taking me to the cliffs and shopping, it was the only time I felt alive during the entire trip. I still can’t believe that was me. It seems like years ago. I have replayed every minute that I spent with Dave over the past two years, trying to figure out if there was something I missed. Pink flags, as my old boss used to say when she gave us relationship advice. I guess if it hadn’t been for the distance, I may have seen the real Dave a long time ago. Even still, I should have seen something. For goodness sake, I figured out you were a vampire after a week, and I couldn’t figure him out in two damn years?” Jessie shook her head.

  Not sure whether to laugh, or console her, Sangio could only concur with her amazement that people aren’t always whom you expect. “I was betrayed once, Jessie, similar to you That time was so dark for me, but I feel it is only right to tell you about my, eh, less civilized days.”