Saving Grapes

by J. T. Lundy

  He opened the door to the hallway and made a great show of putting the “do not disturb” sign on the knob. He closed the door behind him and I was stuck. I struggled for a few minutes, but had to stop as I found it difficult to breathe out of only my nose.

  I rested and then rolled. I had the idea of making it over to the door to kick it and make some noise. I rolled twice and got stuck. Eustace had tied a bed sheet around my ankles and connected it to the bed rail.

  I rested again and tried to think. I had time; Illinois was seven hours behind. I just needed to get to the BNP Paribas bank before the wire room closed at three. I rolled and struggled and tried to break free. The muscles in my torso cramped. Damn Eustace. Damn duct tape.

  I thought about Jacqueline and Stumpy. Would they worry about me? Would they come looking for me? I tried to send them telepathic messages. I knew it was futile, but I still tried. I tried sending messages to Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia—Laura even. Someone save me.

  Stumpy would have to figure out something was wrong soon. God, he was probably sitting in his stupid Aceau costume playing Gameboy waiting for me to pick him up. He could keep that up all day before realizing something was amiss.

  And then, I admit it, I prayed. I prayed the most selfish prayer of all time: Help me God to get out of here and inherit the ten-million-dollar vineyard and I promise to go to church every Sunday. Like God hadn’t heard that one before. But still, I prayed. I prayed the same prayer over and over and was unashamed.

  The hours went by as I struggled, prayed, and tried to send telepathic messages. My constant saliva worked against the duct tape and eventually freed my lips. I was able to open them slightly. I stuck my tongue out and loosened the tape further. I worked my jaw and sucked the tape into my mouth and chewed. I chewed and chewed until a hole opened up and I freed my mouth. I could breathe, and the sensation energized me.

  The ability to breathe regularly helped my endurance, and I jackknifed myself up and down until I jerked the bed over a couple of inches. I wouldn’t be able to move the bed to the door, but I could conceivably move it closer to the window. I jackknifed and jerked repeatedly, and the bed moved a few more inches. As I moved closer to the window the sun’s rays beat down through the glass, hot on my face, and I glistened with sweat. I struggled more until I had the bed about a foot from the window.

  I arched my back and rocked back and forth like a seal. Once I got high enough, I landed my head on the bed. I buried my chin into the cushiony cover. I bit the covers and pressed down with my chin and pulled with my neck muscles until my torso was up onto the bed’s edge. At that point I was able to move my legs underneath me, and I pushed myself up and rolled onto the soft pillow-covered mattress.

  I wiggled close to the window and arched my head off the bed and rested it on the windowsill. I had a sideways view into the courtyard and café below. I tried tapping on the window with my head and gave a couple cries for help. This proved too difficult to keep up so I rolled back onto the bed and pressed my feet against the window. I pushed up and the double hung opened wide. A fresh breeze blew in. It felt cool and wonderful.

  I rested a moment and then turned back around and planked myself so my shoulders were on the sill and my head stuck out the window. “Help! Help!”

  People were eating and talking and waiters bustled back and forth. A couple people looked up but ignored me as a madman or else assumed someone else would take care of the annoyance. At least that’s what it looked like to me, as I could see no one interested in my predicament.

  I heard the key in the door and felt instant relief; someone had come to the rescue. The door opened and shut. It was Eustace.

  “Shut up!” Eustace grabbed at my legs and tried to pull me out of the window.

  I wiggled free and kicked. He jumped on the bed and tried to put his body and arms around my legs.

  I flipped out. Literally. In an adrenalin rush I made a spasmodic, chaotic jerk, pushed my feet against Eustace with all my might, and unintentionally vaulted myself out the window.

  For a second I thought I was going to die, but then my feet jolted, and Eustace’s leg rope held. I hung down the stone wall, held by the bed sheet around my ankles. The bed was pulled up against the window and I prayed Eustace had tied good knots.

  I swung upside down like a pendulum two stories above the ground and screamed. My shoulders and head bumped against the building until I stopped moving and the side of my nose and face stayed mashed against the stone.

  Out of my one eye I could see Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia sitting at a table, looking at me in horror. At another table there was Jacqueline, Melanie, and Stumpy. Stumpy, decked out in his Aceau costume, ran toward me in a blur. A trestle full of flowing vines rested against the building. Stumpy climbed up the vines like George of the Jungle, reached over, and wrapped an arm around my torso.

  Eustace must have split as two waiters appeared in the hotel room window. They held on to the bed sheet and lowered me slowly.

  Stumpy guided me down. His arms held strong around my stomach, but I was still inverted and my face bounced uncomfortably against his crotch.

  “Not a word,” he said. “One smartass comment and I’m dropping you.”

  “Not a word.” Thank God for Stumpy. The good man had saved me again.

  I saw Jacqueline running toward me, a frantic look on her face.

  Stumpy worked me down as the men leaned out the window. I saw Sister Claudette standing below looking worried, her arms outstretched waiting to catch me. The old lanky waiter stood next to her. They reached their arms up and cradled me and, with the help of some other waiters, gently lowered me to the ground.

  Other waiters surrounded me and pulled on the duct tape and unwrapped me like a spinning top. The men pestered me with questions in French and English, but I didn’t want the police involved so I remained silent.

  “Careful,” Sister Claudette said in a commanding voice. She kindly peeled duct tape off the side of my face. She looked at me with concern, like she really cared for me.

  “Thank you, Sister. I’m okay now.” I shook the lanky waiter’s hand. “I’m fine. Thank you. Thank you.” I motioned for everyone to leave me and to return to work.

  Jacqueline stood at a distance with an incredulous look on her face. She shook her head slowly. I gave her a wink and a little salute. “Sorry I’m late—join you in a minute.” I thought I saw the beginning of a smile, but then nothing. She simply nodded and returned to the table. Now that I was safe, I think she was amused, but too embarrassed to be a part of it all.

  Stumpy’s beard was askew. I reached up, patted his cheek, and fixed the fake scruff. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “Jason, what—How?”

  “Eustace.” It was all the explanation he needed.

  Stumpy helped me up, and we walked behind Sister Claudette through the café. My face had scratches. Duct-tape fragments adorned my clothes.

  Sister Claudette sat down at a table with Sister Lucia. I nodded to Sister Lucia. She nodded back, smiled, and shook her head.

  I sat down and said hello to Melanie and Jacqueline. Melanie was going to catch a train and her suitcase sat ready to go next to her. I emptied my water in one gulp, refilled it from a carafe, and guzzled it down again. Jacqueline and Melanie stared blankly at me.

  “Okay, then.” Stumpy put his napkin on his lap. “Where were we?”

  “We were wondering if Jason was ever going to show up,” Melanie said. “And then he fell out of a window.” She started giggling. Stumpy laughed.

  Jacqueline remained stoic. “You realize as a French woman it is somewhat difficult, or embarrassing, to be associated with an American man who seems to have such a disastrous—”

  I interrupted lest I have to hear a litany of my faults, “—A sense of freedom—a carefree love of life?”

  Melanie lifted a glass. “As a French woman I recognize a man qui sait profiter de la vie. A man who really knows how to live!”
/>   Stumpy lifted his glass. “Undoubtedly.”

  I held my glass up and we all looked to Jacqueline. Her lips curled up slightly. She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed her temples. “Dear God.” She lifted her glass. “C’est vrai. To Jason. Il sait profiter de la vie!” She laughed.

  If only Aunt Clara were here to hear this! I laughed, too, and the more we laughed the harder it was to stop.

  Jacqueline finally spoke. “First Stumpy shows up dressed like Napoleon’s banker and now this.” She waved her hand at me. “You guys sure know how to put on a lunch.”

  I slapped my hand on the table. “Banker! Stumpy, we have to go to the bank.”

  Stumpy leaned back and patted his protruding vest. “All taken care of, Monsieur Barnes.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Stumpy and I knocked heads and whispered.

  “What do you mean it’s all taken care of?”

  “Just that. It’s my bank account. I have your information. I took care of it.”

  “You wired sixty grand to the court for me?”

  “That’s what I just said. You didn’t show up and I knew it had to be done—for both of us.”

  “And it worked?”

  “It worked. I’ve a confirmation number and everything.”

  I looked at Stumpy. If the payment clerk notified Judge Crawford, that nasty conviction would be dropped and I could be considered an honest citizen again. Stumpy smiled proudly. Could it be true? Did he really wire the money? My shoulders relaxed and the tightness in my forehead disappeared. “You’re the best, man.”

  Stumpy and I returned our attention to the lunch. “Sorry, ladies. We had some financial business.”

  Melanie and Jacqueline looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Melanie motioned toward the hotel. “Looked like you were into the business hanging on to each other over there.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes went mockingly wide. “Big business.”

  The ladies looked at each other and laughed. Stumpy looked embarrassed, but still smiled, happy Jacqueline and Melanie were getting along. The food came. We ate and drank and had a good time.

  Eustace walked out of the lobby. He saw me and then straightened when he saw Stumpy.

  I gave Stumpy a kick under the table.

  Eustace came toward us.

  Stumpy licked his fingers as he told a story about throwing pepperonis onto a pizza. He needed to be in character. I kicked him again. He kicked me back.

  “Mr. Aceau.” Eustace stood before me, clearly rattled that Aceau and I were dining together.

  Stumpy took the fingers out of his mouth and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Bonjour, Monsieur Short.”

  “Bonjour. I wanted to make sure we were meeting this afternoon.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid I forgot.” Stumpy looked at his cell phone, which impressed me because I knew he had no idea how to work the calendar. “Could we possibly reschedule to next week? I have a very important meeting at St. Sebastian with the Morceau sisters this afternoon.”

  Stumpy was brilliant. The longer we could stall Eustace the better.

  “Perfect.” Eustace nodded to the Sisters’ table. “I also have scheduled a meeting with the Morceau sisters this afternoon. We could all meet at once.” Eustace stared at me menacingly. “I think there will be some interesting information from the United States justice system by then that will be very interesting to you and the sisters.”

  Eustace had thrown Stumpy in a box and he couldn’t think his way to the outside. “Very well. If it so happens, we shall meet at St. Sebastian. But I am dining now, Monsieur …”

  “Small, Eustace Small.”

  “That’s right. Usedass Small.”

  Eustace’s face turned red. “You’re not getting away with it this time, Jason. Clara should have given me the vineyard straight out. I was always more of a son to her than you.”

  I stood up. “Aunt Clara raised me. We were flesh and blood.” I saw Sister Claudette looking at me. I thought she would be angry with me for making another scene, but she looked concerned, sad even. “Six months, Eustace. That’s all you lived with us and you think you deserve the world?”

  “Six months, yes. But tell me. How many times did you see Clara this past year? The past five years?”

  He had me there. “Maybe I wasn’t so concerned about working the Last Will and Testament angle like you.” He started to say something else and then stopped, probably deciding it wasn’t worth it to have Aceau mad at him. He nodded to the table. “Monsieur Aceau. Ladies.” He turned and walked away.

  “Don’t you guys ever get tired of those infantile ass jokes?” Melanie asked.

  “No,” Stumpy and I said at the same time.

  Eustace walked through the café and stopped to speak with Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia. He waved his hand animatedly and they looked over at me. I looked away.

  “That’s your former stepbrother?” Jacqueline asked.

  “My evil nemesis who is trying to steal the vineyard.” I motioned to my scratched face. “He’s the one who did this to me.”

  “You should tell the police. They’re right there.” Jacqueline quick nodded to her left. I looked over to the Sisters. Eustace was gone. Two gendarmes were now standing at their table.

  “No. Stumpy and I will take care of Eustace in our own way.”

  “Is that why you’re disguised as Aceau?” Melanie said.

  “It’s all part of the grand plan,” I said.

  Melanie looked at her phone. “I have to go.”

  We stood up. Jacqueline and I gave Melanie hugs. Stumpy walked her out to the sidewalk to a waiting taxi. They held each other and kissed. Stumpy looked overjoyed and sad at the same time.

  The sisters paid for their lunch and came over to our table. Stumpy returned, nodded to the sisters and sat in his seat, downcast. I was curious and worried that the sisters had been talking to the police.

  “Is everything all right, Sisters?”

  They glanced at Stumpy and seemed unconcerned that he was in disguise.

  Sister Lucia looked pale.

  “No. Everything is not all right,” Sister Claudette said. “Your former stepbrother Eustace is making wild allegations.”

  “He called the police?”

  “No. That is another matter. Eustace wants to meet with us this afternoon. Will you be there to defend yourself, Jason?”

  “I will be there.” I nodded to Stumpy. “With my lawyer, too, of course.”

  CHAPTER 24

  I sat in the abbey office with Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia, waiting for Stumpy and Eustace to arrive. I explained again how my stupidity and Eustace’s malevolent actions had caused my legal troubles.

  “Eustace wants to pinch the vineyard from me. He strangled me in the hotel hallway and mummified me up so I couldn’t pay the court fine. Thankfully Stumpy came through for me.”

  Sister Lucia held her face in her hands.

  Sister Claudette looked stern. She had her game face on and nothing was going to affect her.

  “I’ve done some mean things to Eustace, and I admit, I overreacted when I wrecked his driving range, but we agreed about all that with Aunt Clara, and he, he—he almost killed me. He’ll do anything to get this vineyard.”

  Sister Lucia patted my hand. “We want to make sure the vineyard remains in the Barnes family.”

  I smiled at her. “Thanks, Sister.” I appreciated their confidence in me, though I’m not sure I understood it. I guess it made sense—tradition was important to them.

  “I don’t understand why Stumpy still has to be Monsieur Aceau,” Sister Claudette said.

  “Eustace thinks he’s Aceau.”

  Sister Claudette tapped her fingers on her ancient metal desk. “I know, but it doesn’t matter any more now, does it?”

  She was right—as long as the payment had gone through, it made no difference if Eustace knew the real Aceau or not.

  “It means a lot to Stumpy. He wants to see this through. A
nd he’s doing a great job acting; it’s a treat to watch.”

  Sister Claudette looked at Sister Lucia. “I don’t approve of deception.”

  “But like you said, Sister, what difference does it make?”

  “I like Stumpy,” Sister Lucia said. “And I like acting.”

  Sister Claudette considered. “Oh, all right. I don’t care for this Eustace character anyway.”

  There was a knock on the door. Eustace and Stumpy walked in together, chatting amicably.

  I went on the attack. “That’s him. He’s the kidnapper. He tied me up and threw me out the window.”

  Eustace had walked in expecting to put on a show. My outburst took him off guard. I give him credit, though. He recovered quickly. His face calmed as he stared at me, calculating. I stared back at him, both of us waiting, wondering—who would be the first to draw.

  “Monsieur Barnes has made some serious allegations about you, Monsieur Small,” Stumpy said.

  “Monsieur Barnes is a liar and a criminal. I’ve come here today to prove it.”

  “Go home, Eustace. You don’t want me to invite the police in on this. I’ll forget about the duct tape kidnapping and we’ll call it even for that peanut butter shampoo Stumpy and I gave you in the fourth grade.”

  Stumpy coughed to stifle a laugh.

  Okay, so reminding Eustace of the peanut butter shampoo was probably the wrong thing to do. Eustace’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the famous peanut butter incident. “I was the laughing stock of the neighborhood.”

  “You took the biggest piece of cake. Aunt Clara was handing it to me.”

  Eustace charged at me. “It was my birthday!”

  I lunged at him. “You tried to steal Aunt Clara from me.”

  Eustace and I locked in a standstill-wrestling match.

  I heard a Bruce Lee type yell. Little Sister Lucia floated toward us and with a windmill of arms and spider-clenching fingers she separated Eustace and me.

  Eustace straightened his shirt. “I’m sorry, Sister.”

  “I’m sorry, too. But he started it.” I caught my breath.