by Anna Katmore
“No, thanks.” I patted my still bursting stomach. “The yummy dinner last night should keep me going for a day or two.”
The corners of her lips almost lifted as far as her ears. Oh my God. This woman had definitely touched my heart if I had just made a compliment about her cooking.
“All right then, shall we go?” she cheered.
I leaned sideways to peek around her. So far it was only the two of us. Wouldn’t Albert and Julian come, too?
She tracked my gaze and then confronted me with a frown. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Where are the others? Are we going alone?”
“Oh, no.” She waved a hand, then grabbed mine gently, and pulled me up. “Your uncle and Julian are in the field already. Albert can hardly wait until the cock crows before he leaves the house to tend to his beloved vine.”
They left? How strange that Julian didn’t take care of my mother before he went to work outside. Or maybe he’d popped into her room while I was getting washed and dressed. After all, I had taken nearly ten minutes to choose a pair of khaki pants and another dark t-shirt from Marie’s donated stack of clothes.
Initially, I had intended to wear my own clothes. But they might have gotten dirty out on the field. I wanted them in nice shape for my escape tonight. Well, in as good condition as possible, overlooking the hole in the knee of my jeans and the tattered hem of my sweater.
Marie tugged on my arm and started for the vineyard. “Allez, Lou-Lou,” she ordered over her shoulder.
With a yawn, the giant dog emerged from under the bench to trot along beside me. I inched closer to Marie, but she assured me the Saint Bernard meant no harm. “In fact, a squirrel was the biggest thing she ever dared to get involved with.”
A squirrel? Lou-Lou’s back stood even with my hip as we walked along the footpath. I croaked out a hoarse laugh.
Her moist muzzle bumped into my hand. When she shoved her big head under my fingers, I figured she wanted me to pet her. Nervously, I skimmed my fingers through the soft curls on her meaty neck. It felt all right. Her head not twisting to bite off my hand seemed like a good sign.
The closer we got to the entrance of the yard, the more fidgety I became. The scent of young leaves wafted all around me. Everything smelled so…green. Juicy. Liberating. I picked up pace. Because Marie hadn’t let go of my hand since we left the patio, it was me who dragged her along now. The yard spread out in front of us, longer than the runway of the French airport where we had landed. It must have stretched a mile in both directions, length and width.
Crushed stone crackled under my boots as I twirled along the path, drinking in the beauty of this place. Thousands of shrubs, tied to wires, stood like tin soldiers. They reached no farther than my chin.
“Wicked,” I breathed.
“I am not surprised you like them.” Marie grinned. “Some say, one either hates the vines, or loves them for a lifetime. In your case I would say, it is in your blood to feel close to the vineyards.”
It was in my blood? What a strange choice of words. Yet, this little piece of earth connected with me in an instant. Invisible roots grew from my feet, dug through the stony surface, and anchored me to France. A warm vibration in my body tried to signal that I’d finally come home.
Get a grip, idiot. This is the land of the enemy.
I straightened my back, and the muscles in my face hardened. “What do you want me do?” My ice-cold voice detached me from my aunt as well as the vineyards.
Marie tapped a finger to her lips. “You can see if Julian needs help with the fertilizer.”
I tracked the direction of her outstretched arm. Some eighty feet across the field, Julian scooped white powder out of a bucket and tossed it without much concern underneath the bushes. I could do that.
Lou-Lou’s paws pounded on the dirt behind me as I jogged over to him. While I had trouble climbing through the two lines of wire ropes stretching along each row, the dog simply dodged them.
Seven rows of shrubs farther west, Julian greeted me with a laugh. “Seems like you made a new friend.”
“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to let her next meal out of sight,” I muttered, eyeing the colossal dog sideways.
Julian set the bucket on the overturned soil and wrinkled his nose. “I really scared you with that silly story, didn’t I?”
“No, you didn’t.” Unable to help myself, I stuck my tongue out at him. “But I think you owe me an apology for trying.” Fists planted on my hips, I waited for him to say, I’m sorry, Jona.
A chuckle ripped from his chest instead. “Rrright.”
My ego stomped an invisible foot on the ground. “That so didn’t sound like an apology.”
Bucket in hand again, he ignored my complaint and continued his work, with me fast on his heels. The smirk he cast over his shoulder irritated me like hell.
He’d better not dare think I followed him out of boredom. Or worse, interest. After all, I came over to work. “Marie said I should help you with, um, whatever you’re trying to do here.” I waved a hand at the powder he dropped to the ground in fistfuls every few feet.
“And here I thought you’d already taken a shine to me,” he teased.
So says the guy who woke me this morning by tickling my nose. I snorted and fell back a few steps.
Julian jerked his head, motioning for me to follow him. “Come on, Jona. Of course, I know you came here to work.” His laughter chimed out warm and fair and assured me he was just trying to wind me up again.
I paced up to match his stride. “Fine. What exactly am I supposed to do?”
He handed me the half-empty bucket. “For starters, you dust the roots along the path with this powder. I’ll go fetch another bucket.”
In a graceful jump, he took the two rows to our left and headed for some sort of square container. Lou-Lou chased him with a happy bark for twenty feet, then she angled off as a bird caught her eye.
While Julian filled an empty pail with the contents of a man-high box, I dug my hand into the fine powder and let it run through my fingers. What could a substance similar to flour do to the vine?
Following Julian’s example, I dropped a handful to the ground, trying to draw a small white circle around the stem of a little bush.
“You don’t have to be that precise,” he said behind me, tossing a fistful to the ground on the other side of the path. “Rain will wash the powder in, so the roots can soak it up from the wet dirt.”
Facing the clear sky, I squinted against the burning sun. “Doesn’t look like it will rain any time soon.”
“Then the sprinkler will do the job.” He winked and continued to toss the floury matter.
Even after he’d turned away from me, I still stared at his back. I couldn’t understand how such small moves set my heart beating like a jungle drum. He had me yearning for more of his attention. I flexed my shoulders, shook off the annoying feeling, then continued with the sprinkling.
The bottom of the bucket had already come into view when quick, heavy footfalls crushed the stone behind me. I jerked out of my monotonous work. Pail flying, I spun on my heel to gaze into the beaming face of a tiny woman who resembled a teapot. Her hair, no longer than my pinky, shone silvery gray in the morning light and curled like pig tails all over her head.
Her lips pulled back in an eerie, wide smile, revealing a set of healthy white, but uneven teeth. Stunned, I focused on her heavy eyelids that looked as if they yearned to close over her bright green eyes.
“Ah, Jona!” she cried out in delight, pronouncing my name Shonáh. Arms spread wide, she sang out in French, “Je suis très heureuse de faire ta connaisance!”
I had no idea what she’d said.
Then she pulled me into a tight hug. My body shaped against her round belly, she swayed me a couple of times from side to side. Her embrace knocked the air out of my lungs. Dumbstruck, I clung to her shoulders, so as not to tip over by her enthusiasm.
Only when she let go of me did I m
anage to croak, “Hello.”
The teapot shot a few more words in French at me. I finally caught the name Valentine and figured she was trying to introduce herself. Obviously she knew my name, if not the right pronunciation, so I replied, “Ah, yes.”
A moment later she hugged me again then shuffled away.
“Now, that was weird,” I whispered after she was gone, trying to gather my composure. “French people seem to be a happy folks.” Always friendly to strangers and blessed with a smile that they seemed to wear all day.
To my left, Julian chuckled low and deep. “Valentine was pleased to meet you. And she doesn’t speak English.”
Head angled, I mimicked his lopsided smile. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
His laughter shook us both as he wrapped one arm around my neck and pulled me forward. The warm ocean scent of his skin overlapped the intense smell of the young vine. I breathed in deeply then swallowed hard.
The small hairs on his forearm tickled my chin and made me aware of how close he really was. His side rubbed against mine, the warmth of his body seeping into my skin. I felt way too comfortable in his embrace. For a brief moment, I longed to rest my head on his shoulder. I tilted my chin to gaze at his cheerful eyes before I pushed out of his hold.
He wasn’t my friend and shouldn’t be so close. And most importantly, I shouldn’t feel so good around him.
Julian studied me for a second. Though he didn’t say a word, I could read the question clearly in his quiet, blue eyes. Is it really so bad?
It was too nice. And that was the problem.
His glance lowered to my chest. “Oh bugger, I smudged your shirt.”
I pulled at my tee. The powder on his hand had left a white trace on the collar of my V-neck. Before I could dust it off, Julian was already brushing the fabric, giving me a quick start. But he only messed the mark of three fingers into one white blur.
“Stop it.” I slapped his hand away and laughed. The powder wouldn’t be padded off, not even with my clean hand. “You ruined my tee.”
“And I had a nice time doing so.” Julian smirked. “Don’t worry, princess. A shirt isn’t something that can’t be washed.” He tapped my nose with his powdered finger then returned to dusting the roots.
Hand shoved into the white material, I flounced before him. “You’re right. It can be washed—” A big grin sat on my lips as I pressed my palm to his chest, leaving a white mark on his midnight blue shirt.
Julian didn’t seem surprised, nor did he bother to wipe off the dirt. Instead he made one threatening step forward and leaned close to my ear. “I guess you would kill me if I did the same to you.” His suggestive words set a bunch of butterflies loose in my stomach.
As he pulled me against him, his strong hand on my bottom made me suck in a breath. His whiskers rubbed against my cheek, playing havoc with my senses. With my front pressed against his, a weakness settled in my knees. I feared collapsing in his arms any moment.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have my revenge.” His voice had dropped an entire octave.
If I wasn’t out of my mind at that second, I would have sworn he nuzzled my temple. Before I could gather my thoughts, he let go of me and continued his walk.
My heart pounded like mad. I took a moment to steady my knees. Better stay a little farther behind, out of his reach.
We continued our task in silence. When it was time to refill our buckets, he got me set with a full pail but left his empty one by the container. “Can you continue alone for a while?”
“Sure.” I frowned. “Where are you going?” I didn’t want him to leave me.
“I won’t be long. You just finish this line, and I’ll do the other side when I come back.” He strode off before I could agree to his order.
Headed toward the house, his pace increased while I watched him. Maybe he needed to pop to the loo. But he could have said so when I asked. I shook my head, returning to the task.
Without him, dusting the ground was a darn boring job. I’d covered about twenty yards when Marie found me. At her side walked a man with shocking red hair and a big bulbous nose.
“This is Henri,” she said.
The man held out his hand, and my own got lost in the cup of his chunky fingers. With Valentine being a teapot and this man as tall and slim as a beanpole, they really were a mismatched couple.
“Hello, Henri.” I tried to imitate the sound of his name the way Marie had said it. Ou-ree.
He flashed a chipped-toothed smile and squeezed my fingers. From his silence and nodding, I gathered he too didn’t speak English. Cool, one more person I didn’t have to talk to, although he and his wife seemed like nice people.
Attention dedicated to sprinkling again, I whirled around once more at my aunt’s amused chuckle.
“Jona,” she snorted. “What is that on your backside?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” I twisted my neck to catch a glimpse of my bum, first left, then right. A powdery handprint glimmered on my pants.
I growled, dusting my butt to get rid of the traitorous mark of Julian’s hand. The bastard had gotten his revenge indeed. “This will cost him his head!”
Julian came back half an hour later. Too long for a loo break. Most of my anger had blown off by that time, too. And the bottle of mineral water he handed me vaporized the rest of my annoyance.
“Stay hydrated on hot days like this, or you’ll end up with a headache.” He took a swig from another bottle.
The wonderful liquid cooled my throat. Until the first swallow, I hadn’t even realized how thirsty I was. I guzzled down half a liter within a few seconds. The rest we left in the shade beside the container.
The morning went by almost too fast, and soon Marie called us to come inside for lunch.
“Go with Marie, princess,” Julian said. “I’ll come in a few minutes. Your uncle needs help with the dirt scanner.”
I knew what he was talking about. A small machine Albert had used all morning. A short cable connected a pen-like thing to a little box in his hand. Randomly, it seemed, Albert dug the pen into the earth under various shrubs and read information from the screen on the box. Winemakers used such funny equipment.
I rushed after Marie. My face red and heated from the sun, I appreciated the little break in the cool house. Since I’d refused to eat breakfast this morning, my stomach roared a starving rumble by the time I sat down at the oval table.
The dragon joined me, yet she was clever enough to choose the place farthest away from me. Dark rings shadowed her eyes, and her hand shook as she reached for a glass of water. Her fingers so bony and slim, it was a miracle she found the strength to lift the cup to her mouth.
While she drank, she gazed at me over the brim. Not to show any weakness, I held her stare with a grim expression. Looking away would have meant I cringed from her.
Unfortunately, eye contact brought her bad ideas such as speaking to me. “How did you like the vines? Julian said you were having a good time outside.”
Julian said? Of course, he came to see her when he left me alone out on the field. Bloody hell, I should have guessed. A hint of jealousy mingled with rage at her boldness exploded in my stomach.
“The judge sent me here to work, and that’s what I did. No more, no less.” I rose from the chair to grab a drink. Sometimes backing off was the smarter way—whatever was necessary to make her stop talking to me.
While I filled a glass under the tap, Marie sneaked closer and wrapped one arm around my waist. “Really? No more than work?” she whispered. “I thought I heard you laughing.”
I glared daggers at her, but she beamed. Jeez, I hated her for being so lovely.
When I lowered into the chair again, my mother averted her gaze to her folded hands. With her shoulders hunched, she looked like she couldn’t hold her head up. I couldn’t remember her being haggard like this in London. Actually, she’d made a rather steady appearance then, apart from her sunken eyes.
With my attention focus
ed on her, she shocked me when her head suddenly snapped up. Her cheeks gaunt, the bones stood out even more as her face lit up.
My heart stopped for a second. Every muscle in my body tensed like wire. Bliss sparkled in her eyes. Her entire composure seemed at the ready to pull me into a bear hug.
Run for your life! Panic gripped me while my feet itched to take flight. Had she gone bananas? It took me only another moment to realize she actually stared through me and at the door. Still under shock, I turned my head, only to find the door closed. An instant later, the handle pushed down. Julian slipped in.
His stern features changed to happy when his gaze drifted to my mother. He dedicated the first smile to her. The second one was meant for me.
I couldn’t explain what was happening in that room, but something was very wrong.
“Oh, you are here at last,” Marie beamed as her husband followed after Julian. “So we can finally eat.”
The two men took a seat, Julian next to me.
“Your face is a little sunburned,” he said. His knuckles graced my cheek.
I flinched away, giving him a disgusted snort. His hand dropped to the tabletop. Definitely offended, he narrowed his eyes.
Marie’s lasagna smelled delicious, but for some reason my appetite had disappeared. I poked bits of the meal with my fork, shoving it around the plate. No more than three mouthfuls would go down my throat. My stomach felt strangely full.
Aunt Marie placed her soft hand on my forearm. “What is the matter, chérie? Are you not hungry?”
The hair at my neck stood on end as I felt Julian’s questioning look on me. Did he sense that he was the source of my queasy feeling?
Don’t be ridiculous. How could he know? I couldn’t even explain it to myself. To be jealous of his relationship with my mother felt totally wrong.
“I guess it’s the heat that bothers me,” I mumbled.
“Oh, of course, you are not used to the French climate. What was I thinking?” Marie patted my hand. “Maybe you should stay inside for the rest of the day.”
