by J. T. Lundy
I hadn’t considered the ramifications for Sister Claudette. She was Mother Superior of a convent. What would happen if everyone found out she had had a love child? “We can still keep the secret, Sister. You are the Mother Superior. It would not be strange for me to call you Mother?”
Sister Claudette bowed her head. “It is up to you, but I would be honored and it would give me great joy.”
My insides crumbled. The lost son was home. Tears flowed from my eyes. “Okay, sure. Thank you, Mother.” I cried.
Sister Lucia cried.
My mother cried. We three embraced as one, the remaining Barnes family. I felt eternal.
“You see why I want you to keep the land,” Sister Claudette said. “We are part of the church, but we are Barneses at heart, too.”
“We want you to have a big family.” Sister Lucia’s tearful red eyes began to shine. “The vineyard needs the Barnes spirit now and in the future as well.”
Wow. I’d just found my mother and I was already getting the marriage/family pressure.
Sister Claudette put her hand on my shoulder. “You can live as you want, Jason. I realize marriage and family might not be your style. I am happy just to be near you, finally.”
I thought of Laura and Jacqueline and smashing my face into François’s dinner. “I’m not sure what my style is. I might be too selfish and greedy to have a family.”
“You have a good soul,” Sister Lucia said.
“I take responsibility for your faults,” Sister Claudette said. “Clara had her hands full with you. She loved you, yes, but I think she had her own regrets.”
“I’m not sure what you’re driving at, Sister, er Mother, but I’ve recently been told to see a psychiatrist. Maybe all I need to do is talk to you.”
The sisters laughed.
“Of course,” Sister Claudette said. “All humor aside, I would like that.”
“I still need to pay the church back for the chalice. If I could have a living allowance I’d like to give the rest of my profits to the church until I repay the chalice’s value.”
“That will take some time.”
“So be it. I don’t need much.”
The sun now beamed in at full strength. Dust particles floated contentedly in the warm rays. The wind blew outside, causing the wood door to creak.
“Okay, Jason,” Sister Claudette said. “I like your conviction. You shall repay the church.”
I nodded and accepted the plan. It felt good and right. And then I thought of the police and felt anxious. “What about the French police? They will run me down soon enough.”
Sister Claudette pursed her lips. “Hmm. We will have to think about that.”
Sister Lucia looked ready to explode. She twittered excitedly and smiled. “I took care of the police. The case is closed.”
Sister Claudette looked shocked.
“Say what?”
Sister Lucia did a little hop and motioned toward the relic cabinet. “After all, the Joan of Arc chalice has been returned.”
Sister Claudette and I did a quick jerk and extended our necks to see the cabinet. Sure enough the Joan of Arc chalice sat in its spot, basking in glorious sunshine.
“How? What? Where?”
Sister Lucia clapped her hands and laughed. “I had the chalice the whole time. I bought it on eBay for thirteen thousand—”
“One hundred euros.” I ran to the cabinet. Sister Lucia opened the door. I took out the chalice and held it up and inspected it. I clutched it to my chest and returned to the sisters. “We have to lock this up. There are thieves out there.”
The sisters laughed.
“That is a good idea.” Sister Claudette rubbed her chin in thought. “We can put the chalice in the abbey safe for now.”
“We could make a high-tech secure cabinet and put the chalice on display. Think of the tourists it would draw to the vineyard. Think of the donations and wine sales. We’ll put out a little cash donation box right next to the display.”
The sisters smiled. We exited the chapel into the warm day and blue sky. I leaned up against the Citroën. “How’d you know to buy the chalice on eBay?”
Sister Lucia became serious. “I saw you, Jason. I saw you take the chalice.”
I was surprised and must have looked so.
Sister Lucia looked at the chapel. “I like to sit in the back pew, too. The dark is calming.”
“I’m sorry, Sister.”
“I watched your place like a hawk the next day and when I saw Stumpy he could talk of nothing else but an eBay auction and I knew.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
Sister Lucia smiled. “Simple. I wanted you to own the vineyard.”
Sister Claudette looked stern. She was a straight shooter and this scheme probably seemed wrong to her. She shook her head and then a slow smile worked across her face. She laughed. “I so wanted to give you the money. Maybe God wanted me to as well. He had to work around me, though.” She chuckled some more. “But where did you get thirteen thousand euros, Lucia?”
“Thirteen thousand one hundred euros,” I said.
“I had a little saved,” Sister Lucia said.
Sister Claudette looked at her suspiciously because she knew Sister Lucia did not have that kind of money.
“And I have friends that loaned me the extra.”
Sister Claudette again gave her the eye. “What friends?”
“Friend, actually.” Sister Lucia blushed. “Monsieur Aceau and I were sweet on each other when we were young, if you remember?”
Sister Claudette nodded and said a knowing, “Ah.” She smiled. “I remember.”
Aceau! He knew the whole time. That’s why he was so agreeable and wanted to file the inheritance papers quickly. I had new respect for the man.
The sisters offered me a ride, but I wanted to be alone for a while to ponder all that had happened. They understood and drove back to the abbey, Sister Lucia holding the chalice in her lap.
I started to walk back. I walked and then I ran. I ran down the hill and into the vineyard with my arms out. I sang, “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” The song felt right. The vines swayed in the breeze and applauded my victory run. They lifted up and then lazily fell in a forgiving wave. The vineyard was mine and I felt it was accepting me, blessing me. I was one with the land, one with the vines, one with my ancestors, and one with my new family. I had a mother and a friendly aunt. I had the best friend in the world.
The long joyous run made me feel content, like I had arrived at my fated place in life. I ran hard up the final hill to the patio and house. I was sweaty and spent.
I walked through the front door. I had been out the whole night. I was hungover with emotion. I marched up the stairs, elated.
I kicked open Stumpy’s door, euphoric to tell him the news. Holy Carnivale! I forgot Melanie was there. I saw what I shouldn’t have seen. What I hope never to see again—a roller derby of twisting dough-like smashing flesh—Stumpy style.
Stumpy and Melanie dove under the covers. I pulled the door three-quarters shut so I couldn’t see them. “Sorry, campers.”
“What are you so fired up about?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
Melanie shouted. “You can come in. You ruined it anyway.”
I burst through the door and pulled a desk chair over to the bed and sat on it. Stumpy and Melanie lay side by side with the covers pulled up to their chins.
I talked rapidly. “Sister Lucia bought the chalice from us on eBay. We have it back. Sister Claudette is my mother. Sister Lucia is my aunt. I own the vineyard free and clear.”
They both looked at me with wide eyes.
“You too, of course, Stumpy—ten percent.”
They continued to stare.
“Ain’t it great? It’s over. It’s all over.”
Stumpy looked dizzy. “Sister Claudette is your mother?”
“Yeah. It’s a secret for now.” I told them the whole s
tory.
Stumpy cried.
CHAPTER 32
Stumpy and I sat in our booth at Lucky Mike’s.
It felt strange being back in the United States. We kept saying “Bonjour” to everyone.
The night was early and the crowd was light. A decades-old stale beer smell floated up from the warped vinyl floor, something I had never noticed before. A red plastic basket filled with popcorn sat on the table between us.
“Well, well. What have we here? I thought you guys were gone for good.” Lucky Mike stood over us with a tray full of bottled beers. I handed him his passport, and he put it in his cash pouch without comment.
“Bonsoir. I mean good evening, Mike,” Stumpy said. Mike looked at him with a suspicious eye.
“I was wondering.” Stumpy tapped his chin with his index finger. “Would you happen to have an ’09 St. Emilion Bordeaux? Or an ’07 Rothschild Mouton Cadet?” Mike glared at him. “Or better yet, what would really go well with a burger would be a fine Louis Jadot Beaujolais.”
Mike looked at me. “You got cash?”
I nodded.
Mike slammed our two regular beers on the table. “Welcome back, assholes, and quit fucking with me, Stumpy.”
Mike walked off, and Stumpy’s eyes opened wide. His jaw dropped as if to say “What?”
I laughed. “Man, France has gotten into your blood.”
“And yours. I keep seeing that dreamy look in your eye. You wish you were back there now.”
Stumpy was right. I couldn’t stop thinking about France. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jacqueline or that Sister Claudette was my mother. “I do wish I was back there now. I admit it. I can’t stop thinking about Jacqueline.”
“I thought you two were great together. You should look her up when we go back.”
I lifted my beer. “Cheers.” We clinked and drank.
Stumpy’s face puckered. “Oh, this is awful.”
I had to agree. The beer was flat and weak and tasted like a frat house basement. “Yuck. What morons drink this stuff?”
Stumpy put his index finger to his chin like an aristocrat. He tilted his head in thought. “Maybe we should try that wine bar on the east side that just opened up.”
“Probably more your style,” I said. “More sophisticated clientele.”
“I absolutely agree.” Stumpy nodded and looked serious. “So are you going to call her?”
“Who?”
“Jacqueline! When we go back.”
I sat back in the booth. I put my hands on my forehead and then flung them out toward Stumpy in frustration. “Did you not see and hear how upset she was? I messed it up. She deserves better than me, anyway.”
Stumpy had a huge grin on his face. He could barely contain himself. I thought he was going to crack up laughing.
“Oh, sure. Rub it in. You found love, and I found out what a jerk I really was.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“Ha, ha.”
Stumpy’s eyes gazed over my shoulder and his face beamed. Singing came from behind me. “Oh when you’re smiling, when you’re smiling.”
“Wait, what?” I spun around and there she was, walking toward me looking more beautiful than I could ever imagine. Everyone in the bar watched as Jacqueline continued to sing. “Yes when you’re laughing, when you’re laughing.”
I reached across the table and grabbed Stumpy’s head. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. I jumped up and faced Jacqueline. The joy I felt was overwhelming. Tears welled up in my eyes. Jacqueline had come for me. We sang together. “Oh when you’re smiling, when you’re smiling. The whole world smiles with you.”
Everyone in the bar clapped. I saw Sheila at the far end giving Jacqueline an unfriendly look-over like only women can do. She immediately went to her phone and started texting.
Jacqueline smiled at me. “I hear this is the place for a good beer and brat.”
“And free popcorn,” I said.
Her eyes sparkled like a starry vineyard night. I knew we would be all right. We held hands and looked into each other’s eyes.
“Jacqueline, I’m sorry about the chalice—”
She held her index finger over her lips. “Sh.” She held my hands. “I know everything.”
“Know what?”
“Sister Claudette and Sister Lucia came to see me.”
“In Paris?”
“Marketing St. Sebastian wine, they said. But I imagine it was mostly me and you they were concerned with.”
My head spun. I didn’t know what to say.
“They told me your confession, and I—I forgive you, too.”
I was the luckiest man in the world. “I’ll never let you or the sisters down again.”
Jacqueline smiled a sweet, yet challenging smile. “Sister Claudette, that is—your mother—has promised me the same thing.”
“I’ve no one better to vouch for me.”
She laughed. “Stumpy emailed me quite a long essay defending your character as well.”
I laughed. “Well, there you go.” I hoped I wasn’t being too cavalier, but she smiled and looked at me with affection. Without thought I blurted, “I love you, Jacqueline.”
She gave me the look. “I love you, Jason.”
We kissed.
CHAPTER 33
Two weeks later we were all back in France. It was time. It was time to have a party. Stumpy and I stirred up a celebration, a celebration for the harvest, for the vineyard, for the nuns, and for us. We invited all who wanted to come from the town, including the Hotel Duras’s staff.
The sun set behind the ridge and the sky turned a Bordeaux red. A warm breeze cooled the skin, heightening the senses.
Jacqueline and I stood together, holding hands more often than not.
I shook Peter’s hand. “I’m terribly sorry about all the incidents at the hotel.” Peter, full of wine and feeling merry, shrugged. “Love does strange things to people.”
The early evening glow cast a warm beauty over the vineyard. Nuns and town dignitaries and welcome party-crashers stood close together and filled our patio. Wine flowed freely. Nuns worked the crowd with plates of food.
We made our way over to Monsieur Aceau and his mother. I shook his hand. “Thank you for everything.”
He laughed. “It was fun.”
I laughed. “And here I thought your client was a mobster-type from Bordeaux.”
Aceau reached inside his suit jacket. “I have the papers ready.”
“Oh, good.” I called and waved to Stumpy. He and Melanie talked and laughed with a group around them. Stumpy beamed. Melanie stood by his side, softly clutching his hand.
“I understand I owe you some money, Monsieur Aceau,” I said.
He shook his head. “It is Sister Lucia with whom I did business.”
“Nonsense. You and I know it was all for me. I will pay you first thing after the wine sale profits.”
Aceau nodded in acquiescence. “There is no hurry.” He winked at me. “I have no worries about Sister Lucia’s debt.”
I laughed. “You have a good son, Madame Aceau. You both are welcome to our vineyard and to our wine whenever you desire.”
Madame Aceau put her hand on her son’s shoulder and her face lit up with pride.
Stumpy broke into our group with Melanie clinging to his arm. “What’s up?”
“Aceau’s got the papers. Are you ready to own part of a vineyard?”
“I feel I’ve drunk part of this vineyard. I might as well own it, too.”
Aceau led us to a small table and spread the papers out. He handed me a pen and pointed to several places I was to sign. I signed and handed Stumpy the pen. He dropped the pen and when he bent over to pick it up, his rear end knocked into Jacqueline and some of our guests, creating a domino-bumping ripple through the crowd.
Matthew and Mark darted through the party. They each barked once and then scooted off into the vineyard.
Stumpy followed Aceau’s
pointing finger and signed underneath my signatures. Aceau brought out his stamper and officiously whacked away at the documents. Stumpy and I clinked glasses and shook hands.
“To my new partner,” I shouted.
Everyone cheered.
Stumpy set his glass down and gave me a gregarious hug. He lifted me off the ground and spun. I held my glass up high and tried not to spill. People laughed and ducked in fear.
Stumpy set me down. Jacqueline and I kissed. Sister Lucia and Sister Claudette stood next to us. They shook our hands. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Sister.” I just couldn’t call her mother. Not yet. Not that I didn’t want to, but “Sister” had become a habit.
The party continued. Strings of white lights around the patio lit up the ever-darkening night, complementing the emerging stars. The heat escaped into the night air and the conversations became more animated.
Sister Lucia hit a spoon against a wine glass stem and it clanked shrilly. Sister Claudette put her hand on Sister Lucia’s shoulder and climbed onto a chair. She looked over the crowd. She spoke in French and then translated into English as she went. “Could I have everyone’s attention?”
She lifted her wine glass. “A toast to the new St. Sebastian vineyard owners and vintners. Jason Barnes and Neil, uh, Stumpy, Hammond.”
“Santé. Très bon!” People laughed, patted us on the back, and clinked glasses with Stumpy and me.
Sister Claudette spoke again. “On a more serious note.” The party became countryside quiet. “My new friends, my dear fellow Sisters, and my lifelong friends.” Sister Claudette nodded to the older locals. “Some of you knew me before I became a nun. When I was, let’s say, more of a free spirit.” The folks Sister Claudette’s age laughed and smiled to each other. “But to all my friends I have a confession to make.”
Sister Lucia clasped her hands and silently prayed.
Sister Claudette continued. “Before I became a nun I made this same confession to the church as part of absolving my sins to become one with Jesus.”
I wanted to hide. I knew what was coming and I felt like it was my fault. I was living proof of her sin.
“When I was a teenager I had a baby. And that baby grew into a fine boy, and became a wonderful man.”
