Age quickly melts away when the long-forgotten scent of a mother’s perfume or the tune a father whistles when he talks of his days as a soldier surprises us, no matter how many years have passed since the last time we encountered it. Senses can transcend decades, centuries, transporting us to that one moment in time that was so blissful, so sweet that it is forever branded on our hearts. Lying dormant for years by work, disappointment, sour relations, illness, and heartbreak, a scent can instantly pervade our soul and transform us into that child sitting quietly by the river fishing with his father, or into the little girl learning to bake her first pie at her grandmother’s side, a woman birthing her first child, a father giving his daughter’s hand in marriage, a soldier holding the hand of a dying brother. These are moments that define our lives and give us something with which to gauge all the days between them.
For many this gathering, this celebration brought back a flood of memories both fond and bitter. Mistakes made are now are seen as learning curves: battles fought, now seen as mere disagreements; disappointment, now believed to be for the better, God’s plan being without fault.
After a few more dances, the bride and groom slipped away as was the custom, running into their future hand in hand, the two of them forging ahead alone with the blessings of their family and friends still warm on their cheeks, laughter and song still nestled in their ears and a passionate fire alight in their full hearts.
Running from the meadow to Vander’s parents’ home had them out of breath and dizzy from the wine. They had to stop twice to catch their breath before reaching the barn. Intending only to ride one of the horses out to their new home site, they were shocked to discover the ribbons that had been on their bridal carriage were now around the necks of both animals. There was a letter nailed to the inside of the barn door now dimly illuminated by the lantern Vander lit and held up at shoulder height. The horses blinked sleepily while he read the note aloud:
Son,
I am more proud of you than words could tell. Take them both; they would be lost without each other and without you. Make your wife as proud.
Yours,
Father
Piper reached up and wiped the tears from her love’s eyes, smiling at his expression. It was one of true gratitude and surprise, he never expecting anything from anyone. He held her close and kissed the top of her head and whispered, “We are going to have a beautiful life together.”
She nodded her head against his chest and breathed in the scent of his skin, the straw, and the horses. They turned to their steeds and smiled as they reached for the saddles and bridles. Pieferet and Henk seemed a bit confused by all this, first the ribbons and now being taken out well after the workday was over. But they would do anything for Vander, and deep in his heart, he knew that each would lay down his life to protect him if need be. Tacked up, they were every bit the riding horse as they were work horse in harness. As they were led from the barn, Vander snuffed out the lantern light and closed the heavy doors behind him, wondering what his father would do without his partners. A sense of sorrow filled him as he imagined his father having so much love for him that he would sacrifice so much.
Piper reached up for a handful of mane and reins in her left hand and waited for Vander to hold her shin and give her a leg up. She gathered her dress around her and sat her horse like she always did, like a boy. She never liked riding with both legs on one side of a horse. Her husband loved that she didn’t care what others thought of her: she was a woman with a mind of her own. He brought his left foot up into the stirrup iron, and with a slight hop, he pulled himself straight up and swung his other leg over his horse’s back and looked at the homestead with different eyes. How hard his father and mother must have worked to build this farm. The patience and money and time, the labor and love it must have taken. He knew that he and his wife would do the same, and a sense of excitement raced through his veins as he spun his horse around to face west, toward his future.
He looked over at Piper who was quietly braiding a section of Pieferet’s mane, waiting as her husband said a silent goodbye to his boyhood in the moonlight of a perfect spring evening. Together they cantered along the moonlit lanes that led them out to the pastures beyond the village toward their new home.
Chapter 11
SHE COULDN’T WAIT for the plane to land. It had been seven years since they had been to France on their honeymoon and Paul’s promise to make this trip an even better one had her wondering just what he had up his sleeve. She turned in her seat and looked at her handsome husband whose hair was just starting to gray the slightest bit. He wore it well, and she thought then that she had never loved him more than she did at that moment. But then, she had moments just like this quite often.
He looked at her and smiled. “What’s up, beautiful?”
She smiled and gently dismissed his question by resting her head on his shoulder and said, “I can’t wait to see the inn and meet this guy.”
“Me too, sweetie.”
After an extensive search, Paul had found an investor in southern France who was willing to meet with them and possibly fund their vineyard. Piper loved the synchronicity that he was from Italy and happened to share the last name of several of her mother’s relatives. Alfred Porrazzo was from the Abruzzi region and had moved to France after a university trip in his early twenties during which he met his wife, Kay. Together, they worked her parents’ vineyard, raised their family there, and eventually took over when her parents could no longer run the business. Now in their seventies, they no longer saw new vintners as competition; rather, they viewed them as keepers of tradition. They, too, were very much looking forward to this visit from the young couple from Massachusetts. Most inquiries for capital were from California, and over the decades, “Freddy” had grown tired of the fame and fortune seekers.
As the plane landed, Piper felt a little light-headed and had to sit for a few minutes while the rest of the passengers left the plane. Paul asked the flight attendant for some water, but Piper waved it away, insisting that she just needed a moment. He sat next to her and rubbed her back while she sat with her head in her hands, eyes closed. This was more than her typical scent-ache. She felt like she might vomit but she didn’t want to startle Paul by trying to explain any of it. She had never been able to clearly communicate these sensations to Paul. He would only laugh and tell her she certainly was an imaginative one, but that’s why he loved her. It used to bother her that he poked fun at her, but as she grew older, it in fact, helped her to just ignore some of these strange occurrences and simply regard them as temporary little hiccups that happened from time to time. But this time she couldn’t ignore it, whatever it was.
She stood up and stepped out into the aisle of the plane, eyes wide, waiting for the darkness to lift. When it did, the look on Paul’s face frightened her more than a little.
“What?” she asked.
“Honey, are you okay? You’re really pale,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired. That was a long flight.”
The visions came fast and hit her like sleet in the face, sharp and unrelenting: A child’s hand, blackened and limp, a golden medallion clutched in dirt-covered, shaking hands, a woman on the ground, sobbing, a little girl at her side. Whose hands?! Whose child?!
Paul grabbed their bags from the overhead compartment and led her down the aisle toward the exit. As she neared the front of the plane, the pilot poked his head out to wish them a relaxing visit. Piper glanced up at him and was struck by his piercing blue eyes. He smiled and nodded in her direction, then looked away as he rubbed his nose nervously. As he did, she smelled salt air, straw, and roses. Her head was spinning and she wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest. Paul felt her swaying and slipped his arm around her waist and held her tight. The two flight attendants looked at her with concern and asked if they should call for medical assistance; but the pilot never stopped smiling. If Piper hadn’t been so intent on getting off
the plane, she would have noticed the tears in his eyes that betrayed his shy smile.
When they reached the inn, Piper was feeling much better, somehow refreshed; but Paul said that they were staying put and insisted on ordering in. He called down to the kitchen and ordered dinner which they enjoyed out on the terrace by a sparkling fountain. Paul reached across the table and took his wife’s hand. “You gave me a little scare back there, Lady.”
She smiled and giggled the way she did when he said things like that.
“Sorry, Honey. I was just a little dizzy. No big deal. I’m fine now.”
He paused and tilted his head a little bit, which reminded her of Viceroy when he heard a curious noise. On her husband, the expression meant, “Are you sure?” She took a sip of her wine and said, “What? You don’t believe me?”
He looked at her. “Well, it’s just that you were pale as a ghost and quite frankly it looked like you were seeing one to boot.” She remembered the scent-ache and realized that if the expression on her face had reflected how she felt at that moment, then yes, she could see how her husband thought she was terrified. She had been. The visuals came so fast and so furious that she couldn’t comprehend them. They were a blur. She remembered, though, that as they flew through her mind, she felt like these were actual memories. The pictures that normally accompanied these sensations were like bits of a dream, something that hadn’t really happened to her. But this time it was different. She had heard of flashbacks before, but Piper knew that people who experienced those sorts of things usually had either used hallucinogenic drugs or had been through an extremely traumatic experience. But neither of those things applied to her, and she was just having a hard time shaking the feeling that these were memories.
She ate her salad and raw oysters and relaxed with the sound of the fountain. She drank all of her wine and then excused herself from the table. “I think I’ll lie down for a little bit, Honey. Then maybe we can take a walk, what do you say?”
Paul looked up at his wife as she stood in front of him. “Sure, Babe. Yell if you need me. I’m going to call Freddy now and set a time for tomorrow. Okay?”
She smiled at him and nodded. He furrowed his brow, stood up, and put his arms around her slender waist. “You’re not getting cold feet on me are you?”
She stepped back and took his hands in hers. “Paul, look at me. I told you before I am in this a hundred percent, Sweetheart. I’m not getting cold feel. I’m just feeling a little under the weather. I promise; that’s all it is.” She stepped closer and let go of his hands.
He folded her into his chest and he took a deep breath and kissed the warm skin on the side of her neck. He could feel her pulse and loved the very life blood that ran through her veins. He felt a sudden stab of sorrow for not being able to start a family with her. They had been trying for a while but each month brought disappointment. She didn’t like to talk about it and he wasn’t going to mention it now, especially with her not feeling well.
Back in the room, Piper took a hot shower, letting the water scorch her white skin and turn it bright pink. She didn’t feel tired as much as mentally exhausted. In the weeks leading up to their trip, there had been several clients whose horses had been injured in “accidents”; the adjusters she hired per diem were not available, which was often the case, and which necessitated that she investigate the accidents on her own. The phone calls from the vets were eerily the same: “Suspicious wounds,” “Unlikely injury,” “Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” Piper had been in the business long enough to know trouble when it dialed her phone. These situations weren’t rare in her field, but each one turned her stomach just the same. How could someone wound their own horse or someone else’s for the money? She didn’t know of a more loyal animal, except for maybe a family’s dog. She couldn’t imagine that someone with a heart could intentionally pick up a syringe of snake venom and inject it into the legs of a horse so that it wouldn’t be able to compete in an upcoming competition and likely need to be put down. And what goes through a person’s mind as she offers a handful of yew berries to an aged horse, which for years had served as companion and trusted mount, now viewed as nothing more than an eating machine worth a lot more if dead? These phone calls from the equine vets shook her up and made her want to get out of the business altogether.
But most of the time the job wasn’t stressful; in fact, she found it very invigorating and loved how every day was different. It was far from ever being boring. She scrambled prior to the trip to France to get an agent from her old office to take her calls for her while she was away. And her own animals, well, she absolutely hated leaving; but she had entrusted them to their neighbor to the south. He was a gentle, older farmer who had owned Belgian draft horses his entire life. When she asked if he could feed and water her horses and dog, his eyes brightened and he tugged on his beard. “Oh, I’d love to, sweetheart. That Friesian you got there sure is a looker.”
He was a lonely man whose wife had passed away two years prior, and he used every reason he could come up with to wander over and see what the young couple had done to the property that had been in his family for over 150 years. At first Paul thought he was going to make a pest of himself, but Piper gently reminded him each time he mentioned it that the man was all alone. Soon, though, Paul came to realize that the guy was just trying to be helpful. He shared with them pictures of the old homestead and his family throughout the many generations who had worked the land that Piper and Paul now owned. They had him over for Sunday dinner once a month and Paul found himself taking the long way home on more than a few occasions to stop in and check on the old guy. Piper felt more than comfortable with her animals in his care. She reminded herself to look for a gift to bring back to him as a thank you.
She lay on the bed not feeling tired, but not wanting to sit outside and talk, either. Sometimes she just needed to be alone, which was nothing new. She always made time for herself each day: riding, listening to music that inspired her and, of course, her writing. Paul could easily spend every waking moment with her and never get sick of her company, but he had learned that she was a much happier woman when she had some space.
She got up, rummaged through her purse on the bureau and pulled out her iPod and a piece of her favorite clove gum. She lay back down and turned on her music—the band that Paul teased her about. She loved Ville’s voice and found his music comforting, meaningful in a way that she couldn’t explain. Paul said the only reason she liked him was that both his first and last names began with “V.”
She closed her eyes and let the music fill her heart. She was going through something lately but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She felt like she should be happy but somehow wasn’t quite there. What was missing, she wondered and instantly stopped herself. She knew and Paul knew. They wanted a baby. She rolled onto her side and let the tears come. It had been so long since she had cried, but between the stress of being away from home and all of her responsibilities, while not feeling well, and taking this giant step, this financial risk with the vineyard, was too much. She let herself cry, a luxury she usually denied herself.
The tears stung this time, not as much a relief as they usually were. These angry tears swelled into waves of resentment pulsing through her veins, and she didn’t know why. She curled the pillow over the back of her head and held it so that the ear buds of her iPod sank so deeply into her ears that it hurt, the music filling her head and drowning her thoughts. After a while she tried to relax and released the pillow, letting it uncurl gently onto the bed. She lay there eyes wide, chest still hiccupping with unrelenting sobs. It wasn’t the first time she had wondered if she would be childless her whole life and how it would feel to watch her friends’ children grow, marry, and make her friends grandparents someday. Her horses and dog, and of course Paul, were her life; the animals had filled an important void even when she was a child. But now? Now it just wasn’t enough, and she always felt that she was disappointing Paul, who grew up with sibl
ings and wanted a big family. Over the Fourth of July weekend, his entire family came out to the farm and had a grand time. On one of her many trips into the house to get more napkins, lemonade, salsa, and batteries for her camera, she spied Paul at the grill on the deck as his brothers played softball with their kids. He looked so happy watching them; yet, at the same time, there was a look of longing on his face and she could have sworn the reason he rubbed his eyes was not because smoke got into them. She asked him later that night about how he felt having everyone here at the farm. He cocked his head and furrowed his brow and asked, “What do you mean?”
She had said, rather curtly, “What do you mean what do I mean? I just want to know how you felt seeing this place filled with kids and ….” Her voice betrayed her bitchiness and the tears rimmed her lids, making Paul’s heart ache.
He pulled her close, and pressed his warm lips onto her forehead. He said, “Sweetheart, you know I love having everyone here. It’s awesome to have the family all together and see the kids getting bigger and watching them become their own people, ya know?”
She nodded her head against his chin. “I know you’re disappointed, Paul, and I’m just sorry that I can’t seem to give you a family.”
He pushed her back gently yet a bit abruptly in order to get her attention. His expression was stern bordering on angry. “Do not say that. Piper, honey; we’ve been through this. It’s not your fault or my fault or anyone’s. All the doctors say the same thing—there is absolutely no medical reason that we shouldn’t be able to conceive a baby. Remember?”
She remembered. She remembered the stress, the tears, the tests, the appointments, the phone calls, and the endless books on infertility. They both knew it all too well. She also remembered how loving and gentle her husband had been to her, not pressuring her, and always reassuring her that his life was full with her, that she was all he needed, and too, that he loved the trying part anyhow.
Piper, Once & Again Page 10
