He wrenched his shoulder up and down. Then he stopped. Tears came to his eyes and his head hung down toward her. She released pressure on the door and hugged him. She led him back to his chair. He cried and his body shook. He floundered to his chair where his hands came to his face, “I’m sorry, Claire!”
Claire touched his head, “That’s ok, Dad. You worried me.”
“Do you touch all your customers?” He flinched back, “I came here for a donut and a coffee. Can I get a coffee with cream and sugar? You are pretty, I must be lucky.”
Claire took a deep breath. She would need to talk to Tyler and Joan about putting their father in a home. Her father’s swinging lamp could have knocked her out or killed her. If his door had opened while she remained in the kitchen making lunch, he might be in the middle of the street in a blink. “Yes. I’ll be right back. You read the paper while I get it.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 18
September
Claire followed Zack around the fermentation tanks on their way to the fields. He had shown her the completed divorce paperwork and she stayed. She even suggested coming out to the vineyards today while he worked.
The sky burned blue over the vineyards. Tight purple grape clusters dangled from the lower vines like upside down Christmas trees needing no adornment to sparkle and glow. Zack followed a random winding path through the rows selecting single grapes from the bright clusters to taste. Occasionally he crushed a grape in the refractometer he carried and measured the sugar content directly. Claire could smell Zack’s mix of work sweat and aftershave as he reached passed her for one of the grape clusters. Zack plucked a berry from the center. He brought it up to Claire’s gaze, “Here, try this.”
Her eyes circled around his face and followed along his arm and up to the fruit. She bit the luscious fruit from his fingers. The sweetness burst across her tongue mixed with the fruitiness of black cherries and currants.
“Can you taste the sugar?”
She reached for Zack’s shoulder. She drew him toward her, swallowing the grape, “You tell me.” She touched her lips to his. As the grape flavors burst in her mouth, her body burst in her desire for him. Claire crushed against him, wanting him, burning for him. Her hand moved across his shoulder and hooked her elbow around his neck. The scruff of his beard stubble a day old and sexy against her bare arm. Her tongue rippled along his and she wanted him here and now.
“I think we need to taste more grapes,” Zack said, pulling back and appearing to pant between his words, “I told our wine maker I’d do the survey and announce when the fruit is ready to harvest. It’s ready.”
“We’re not close enough,” Claire pulled him against her, wondering how she had resisted before. The perfect weather, the sun sitting comfortable in the sky. The afternoon wandering through the field inspecting the grapes with Zack. Watching him get more involved with the winery and vineyards since the divorce. She knew he worked in the fields as much to forget everything as getting the job done. She saw Zack whenever she could pull Tyler from his surfing to watch her father. Visiting Zack helped her avoid wallowing in her own situation. She needed Zack now, suddenly more, like a dial amplified passed ten. She hadn’t wanted anyone like this in, well, she never knew. Not like this. Zack did not pull away. He pressed her against him with his strong arms and nearly lifted her. Foliage glowed around them like curtains holding the world away.
Their kiss remained unbroken as she unlatched his overall strap. He spun her around and laid her down on the soft clover with leaves like butterflies, slipping his arm free of his other overall strap. She pushed at him and rolled up on top straddling her knees to either side of his chest. She broke their kiss and straightened. She watched his eyes for a long heartbeat after she pulled off her cotton shirt and bra in a single smooth motion. Her breasts hung heavy and her nipples pinched themselves, calling to him. His hands stroked up her body and against all the nerves at the edges of her breasts. Her eyes closed as she focused on the sensations traveling along her skin. Then her arms wound around his head and his around her back, nudging her breast across his lips. Claire slipped down his body. The fantastic touch of skin on skin charging her desire. Her hair flooded across his shoulder. Their pants unbuttoned. Probing. Zack rolled her and moved his lips to her body. She winced in pleasure as he nibbled her breast. She moved her hand across his chest, his stomach, and reached below his belt. Zack’s fingertips stroked between her legs. Claire expected fumbling. But this man knew her body better than she did. Waves of pleasure caused her to vocalize more than she thought proper but soon she did not care in the middle of this field. Alone with him. Oh! She had not considered the experience he might have gained being married. Nor how effective he could be with that experience until her body rose and crashed in splintering ecstasy that rolled into a second and a third. Claire begged him to stop. He filled her entire world with his touch. She forgot her sweaty body stuck with ground chaff. She forgot that her ragged breath came in quick, delicious gasps. The movement of their bodies against each other in a rhythm that held her focus. Then an orchestra wide crescendo split through her skull, tumbling her back like a rapidly discharged battery burning hot and simultaneously bursting with a chill as the adrenaline rush faded. She stretched on the ground and he too lay on his back next to her recovering his breath. Claire ran her fingers across his chest, enjoying the coarse feel of the dark hair that covered it. Not a nude, shaved, and chemically treated cover model, but a real man. She rolled against him and slid her thigh over his. Her face felt his warm shoulder against her cheek.
Zack took a long breath. He whispered, “You are amazing.”
Claire pulled her hand across his chest, tipping her finger tips up and lightly scraping her painted nails against him. His arm swung across and pulled her close, their faces inches from each other. Claire said, “I didn’t know what to expect – but wow.”
“You thought I’d finish before the buttons were off?”
“I didn’t know,” she breathed his scent in, mingled with her own now. Marked as hers. “You knew where I needed you.”
He smiled, “Experience counts for something once in a while.”
Claire’s hand went to her forehead, “My mind almost burst – but in a great way.”
Zack lay back looking into the clear blue sky, a smile cutting his face, “I know mine did.”
Chapter 19
“Jay, I appreciate you letting me crash on your couch.”
“No problem Zack. That’s what old friends are for. Sad Lydia stuck you that way. What time are you leaving for the game?”
“It’s a one o’clock game. I should get going in another twenty minutes. I think Lydia only let me take the kids out because they watched a game on television last week. When I mentioned it would be fun they kind of bowled her over.”
“It should be a good game.”
“I want a hot dog!” said Grace, skipping in a little dress and white tights.
“And pop. I want a big orange pop,” Noah demanded.
Zack hadn’t gotten used to everyone in California calling it soda. He liked to hear his kids use the Mid-Western slang. How he missed them. He knelt in line and hugged Noah.
“Ow Dad.”
“I didn’t squeeze you that hard, what’s wrong Noah?”
“My arm is bruised.”
“Did you get in a fight with your sister or did you fall down while playing?”
“No Dad.”
Grace pulled up her sweatshirt, “I have one too!” Grace was proud of her mark, as if it were a fancy tattoo.
“What were you doing to get those?” Zack ran his fingers over the children, pressing on their arms and legs and finding more bruises on the backs of their legs. “You have these all over. What’s going on?”
“Nothing Dad –” Noah said.
Grace spun, “I want pizza instead of a hot dog.”
Noah pushed between two other people standing in line to see the counter better, “I want one of those
pretzels. Dad can I have a pretzel and a hot dog?”
Zack said, “They’ll put mustard on the pretzel.”
“Really? I don’t like mustard,” Grace’s shoulders drooped.
“Maybe we can get it plain.”
“That’s what I want. A plain pretzel. How long before we get through this line?”
“I’m not sure Grace.”
Zack kept running through his mind what could have happened to get those bruises. They had played rough when he lived with them and they never bruised like that. He remembered a few things from those books on what to do when you have a new child that Lydia had gotten but never seemed to read herself. Zack didn’t enjoy any of the baseball game itself but being with the children was great. He did the divorced-dad thing and bought cotton candy for them on the way out of the park, “You can have this when I get you home.”
Lydia said, “What are you giving them cotton candy for? That’s pure sugar.”
Zack opened the bags for the children and they scampered to the living room to watch a cartoon on television. Zack saw that Lydia had ordered regular cable television, something he kept out of the house. He asked, “What’s with the bruises on the kids?”
“They fell while playing.”
“But most kids get those bruises on the fronts of their legs. I didn’t get bruises like that until I was twelve and started making ramps to see how high I could jump my bike.”
“They played baseball in the back yard with Nick. Grace turned to catch the ball, running backward, and tripped over the flowerbed rock boarder knocking Noah over in the process.”
“That’s quite a story.”
“It’s what happened. I saw it or I wouldn’t have believed it either.”
“Well I’ll see you later, Lydia. Make sure you keep the kids safe.”
Zack drove down the road toward Jay’s house and called Amanda, “Can you confirm any of Lydia’s stories? I’m concerned.”
“I’m not sure about bruises like that but I saw Nick hit the kids roughly when they played in the living room. And of course Lydia strikes them all the time and adds verbal attacks, but that goes without saying.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” Zack hung up the phone. He continued to drive and contemplate what he could do. A toxic environment. Maybe he could find a good lawyer. His phone rang and Zack answered.
“It’s Claire. Zack, my car engine seized and stranded me.”
“Are you home now?”
“No. I’m at my car. The tow truck driver is hooking up to it. I wondered if you had any suggestions for what I should do with it.”
“How do you know the engine seized?”
“All the dash lights went on after a big clunk. I coasted over to the side of the road. The tow guy tried starting it and looked at it and said “It’s kaput!” and that I’ll need a new engine.”
Claire turned her phone away from the noise. The driver pulled on the hydraulic levers and the cables and chains clanked and growled, dragging the car up the ramp. “I barely have money to pay the tow truck bill when my credit card statement comes through. I can’t afford a new engine nor a new car. I wondered if you had any advice.”
“Can you get a ride from your friends to get you to around for a little while?”
“That’s pretty easy,” Claire said.
“Then have the driver take the car to my place. I’ll pay the extra mileage. I’ll take a look at it.”
“You will?” Claire’s voice seemed to smile with relief.
“Yes. I’ll be back there in two or three days. Put the car keys in my house and lock up.”
Chapter 20
October
Zack slept late. He awoke to the sun streaming through his curtain-less living room windows. He tried back calculating how many hours he had been driving, catching short naps at truck stops, driving across the plains and over the mountains into the desert. A long trip. He tried to think what day it might be but he just flopped on the couch and fell asleep. He stuffed his car with the things Lydia demanded he remove from the driveway where she tipped it off, before it rained. He shoved it all in his car and he just drove. He replaced his wipers in Omaha due to all the dreary rain that he traveled through from Chicago until he started into the Rocky Mountains beyond Denver. His windshield scrubbed clear by all that rain made the lights of Las Vegas sparkle more brilliantly and enticingly as he drove through. He did not stop. Twenty-five-hundred odd miles rolled up on his odometer by the time his wheels stopped turning at his rental. Exhaustion overtook him.
He turned on the coffee pot and went outside to Claire’s car with the keys she had left on his kitchen counter. She had drawn a curly flourishing heart on a piece of paper wedged under her keys that caused him to smile and remember his last visit with her in the vineyard.
He pulled out the box of tools he purchased at the hardware store while taking the break from all the monotonous rain-soaked driving. A truck stop sold him a nice oil pan that he kicked under the car. He dropped the case with a jack and hoisted the vehicle up in the air on jack stands that still smelled of new paint and anti-rust oil. He drained the engine oil and metal plopped out in clumps of shavings and chunky slivers. He used a screwdriver to move debris dams aside for the oil flow. He knew his best option for fixing the car was scribbling notes about the car model and its vehicle identification number and the engine details on a handy piece of cardboard that he took in the house. He turned on his refurbished computer and started a search. Eventually he located the on-line classified car parts list. He found the same engine he needed from a person that yanked it out of a wrecked pickup.
“Hey, I’m calling on that engine you listed. You still have it?” and so the conversation and negotiation began. Zack emptied his car while he waited for the engine’s owner to deliver the engine. Within a few hours, the engine sat on the driveway next to the broken car, leaning with its pipes and wires waving in the air like the snakes of Medusa. Zack drove to the local supply store and bought fence posts and lag screws and a small hand winch sufficient to lift the engine and transmission. He assembled the posts into a sturdy frame, removed the hood of the car and started disconnecting the old engine. He was glad his rental had a carport roof as he worked through the hot day. He sorted parts between the new engine and Claire’s engine and chose the best performing parts with his meters and tools. He flipped on the spotlights he clamped to the sides of the car that peered like vultures at his work, waiting for tasty morsels he might toss out, but they waited until late into the night. Zack sat in the wood captain’s chair with a beer after he got the engine started. He had about half the contents of his beer before he fell asleep.
His phone rang and woke him up.
“Did you get in town yet? It’s been five days. You told me probably three. I hadn’t heard from you yet. Are you ok?”
Zack rubbed his face. His hands still smelled of grease cleaner. “Can you get a ride over here today?”
“Let me ask … Yeah, Leiko says she can take me out now.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Zack leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and thinking about what he needed to do yet. The hood needed to be bolted back on and squared up with the body, he needed to pick up the tools and parts strewn about the carport, and he needed a shower, badly. He was sure he had grease all over his face and his clothes. That was why he hadn’t crashed on his cloth couch.
Banging on his porch post startled Zack awake. He looked at his watch and saw he’d fallen asleep for an hour and a half. He saw Claire and Leiko standing on the steps.
“Whoa, you’re dirty!” Claire said, looking him over.
“Not having a mirror in the house yet, I could guess so.” He dug in his jean’s pocket, “Hi Leiko.”
“Oh hello, Zack,” she looked at Claire’s car parked under the carport. “What happened with the car? I see parts all over the ground.”
“I replaced the engine.”
Claire walked toward her car, “You replaced t
he whole engine?”
“Yeah. I have to get the hood back on but otherwise it’s fixed.”
“What was wrong with the old engine?”
“A lot of bad things. I’ll look at it more later, maybe, but broken piston connecting rods, likely a bad crank due to all the metal shavings. Gouged pistons and the block.” He lifted the oil pan still filled with broken chunks of gray aluminum and steel, soggy with black oil. “You did a number on it.” He gave Claire her keys, “Start it up and take a maiden voyage around the block.”
“Really?” she smiled, excitement replacing her dread.
“Back it out along the grass and I’ll see you in five minutes.”
Claire got in and started the engine. It revved up and she took it out onto the street.
Leiko said to Zack sitting on the porch steps feeling his sore muscles, “You know I didn’t like you before –”
Zack said, “I know.”
“– But this is amazing.” She turned from the road back to Zack, “How do you know she won’t get stranded? Were all the wires and bolts put on? I see a big pile of extra parts.”
“I started it up last night and drove it up and down the street to make sure everything worked – I’m not putting her in peril.”
Leiko said, “It’s good to be handy.”
“I heard some wisdom once: If you can’t be handsome at least be handy – I suspected I needed to be handy.” Zack rubbed his hands with a rag and scrubbed at his face and arms. The cloth went from beige to zebra grease streaks. “Claire is gorgeous, as are you, and … I’m at least handy.”
“You’re more than just handy, Zack.”
Claire pulled up in her car and turned it off. She raced out of it in joy and threw her arms around Zack. She kissed him hard and long. When she pulled away, she had to straighten her shirt and both their lips burned with desire. Claire said, “Thank you for saving my car.”
Zack fumbled and dropped his grease rag, “I was glad I could find a way to help.”
Cabernet Zin (The Southern California Wine Country Series) Page 19
