The Truth is in the Wine

by Curtis Bunn

  “Look at him,” Brenda said. “He’s beaming.”

  “I know,” Ginger said. “I was trying to wait until the right time to tell him.”

  Paul returned from a bathroom run. He had purchased them the Gold Experience, meaning they had a private tasting of three more Sterling wines: a 2008 Reserve Chardonnay; a 2010 Malvasia Blanca; and a 2011 Viognier. The staff wine steward serving them enjoyed their celebratory spirit so much that she also poured them a 2007 Sangiovese and a 2007 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon.

  Ginger had water.

  “Baby, I am so sorry you cannot taste these wines,” Paul said. “They are so good. Then again, I’m not sorry.”

  “Me, either,” Ginger said. “I was telling your mom that I was waiting for the right moment to tell you. I was in shock myself for much of last night. I hardly slept. I almost told you in the room before we left. But we were talking about a romantic dinner and I thought that was the best time.

  “But being out there in the sun, looking at all that God created, it felt like the right time and place.”

  “It was perfect,” Paul said. “Perfect.”

  “We’ve got to tell Helena,” Ginger said. “And we also have that other news to tell her. Thinking about that last night gave me a headache. What do you all think? How should we handle this? I don’t want to burden Helena with the news that she was adopted and pile on that there’s a new baby coming.”

  “Sometimes kids have problems with a new child because the focus won’t be on them anymore,” Madeline said.

  “But Helena is eighteen; she should be beyond that stage,” Brenda said.

  “She should be but she’s been spoiled all her life and gotten all the attention,” Madeline said. “When she comes home next year for a visit from college, will she be OK with seeing everyone give so much attention to the baby?”

  “Well, she’s gonna have to be OK with it. And she will be,” Paul said. “When a new kid comes the older kid has to adjust. That’s how it is. We have to make sure Helena doesn’t feel left out. Plus, she’s so sweet. She’ll be a great big sister.”

  “But I’m worried about the dynamic of her learning she’s adopted and learning about a new baby coming all at the same time,” Ginger said. “Should we tell her both things now? Should we wait on telling her about the adoption?”

  “You’ve got to tell her everything,” Madeline said. “Now. That’s my opinion. She’s a good young lady, mature. She’ll handle it all. It might be a lot in the beginning, but she won’t go off in hiding or anything. She’s pretty expressive.”

  “Ginger, I get your concern,” Paul said. “She learns that we are not her birth parents in one breath and then learns that we have a baby on the way in the next breath. Does she feel like she means less to us because of the baby?”

  “She knows how much she means to you both,” Brenda said. “I do. I was against telling her at all that she was adopted. But I have changed on that. She deserves to know. But the reason I changed is because I thought about the person Helena is. She’s a great kid. She calls me every week—from college. And I am sure she calls you, too, Madeline. What teenager calls her grandparents consistently while they are away in college?

  “So I’m sure she’s calling you both all the time. My point is, family is important to her. You all mean the world to her. She’s going to be strong about it. She’s not going to feel you all will love her any less.”

  The discussion went back and forth for several minutes, all the way in the tram down the mountain to the car. It was so involved that Paul didn’t even bother to be bothered with his fear of heights and enclosed places. He simply rode with it.

  They headed back to the hotel feeling great physically from the wine and great mentally from the news. But they could not come to a consensus on Helena. “So, if we tell her both at the same time, which do we tell her first?” Paul asked.

  The car fell silent. “Well, if we tell her the baby is coming first,” Ginger said, “she’ll be happy. She’ll be excited. Maybe with that joy in her she will not be so impacted by learning she’s adopted.”

  “See,” Madeline said, “I think differently. If you tell her the hard news first—that she’s adopted—then telling her the good news lifts her spirits. It’s like, ‘What do you want to hear first? The good news or the bad news?’ Most people say, ‘Gimme the bad news first, so the good news can make them feel better.’ ”

  “Not necessarily,” Brenda said. “I would want the good news first so it could cushion the bad news. And then there’s the chance that she could receive the adoption news so strongly that it cancels out the good news.”

  “It has to be in how we position it,” Paul said. “We can’t position it as bad news or as something that’s so disconcerting. We have to present it to her as news that she’s old enough and mature enough to accept. We should say we probably waited too long to share this with her—put the burden on us, where it should be. Tell her that we will find her parents for her and take her to visit her parents if she’d like.

  “I have a friend who learned she was adopted when she was twenty. She learned it because her natural parents’ family found her. She wasn’t upset with her parents; she knew they loved her and that they were trying to protect her; that they were not trying to deny the child anything, despite how it looked. I will tell her that story.”

  “And you also tell her that you and her mother and her grand-parents love her more than life itself, which is true,” Brenda said. “And tell her that her little brother or sister will need her to help raise him, to teach him, to guide him, to set the example for him. Give her some responsibility in her sibling’s life.”

  “Yes,” Ginger said. “You’re both right. We have to let her know that she’s even more important to us now. Let her know we want her to be a strong influence on the baby’s life, which we really do.”

  “That’s true,” Paul said. “I kinda hope it’s a boy because I don’t think I can take another girl having me wrapped around her finger. I need a boy to wrap his mom around his finger.”

  “Oh, I cannot wait,” Brenda said. “We haven’t had a baby to play with in eighteen years. That’s too long. I have missed being a grandmother to a little one, watching her grow up, learning to walk and talk and get into things.”

  “Yeah, that Helena was a mess,” Madeline recalled. “She’d come to my house and right away run to her grandpa. She loved her granddaddy. I never saw him so proud as when she sat on his lap and would fall asleep there.”

  “I thought about that, too, Mother, last night,” Ginger said. “I wish Daddy would be here to see the new baby. He’d be so happy.”

  Her voice trailed off and she got a little teary-eyed. Much of the focus after her father’s death was on her mother and how she would handle losing her mate of more than forty years. But even as he was dealing with his loss of job around that same time, Paul monitored his wife. She was a daddy’s girl who took his death hard.

  Most people did not see her pain. Paul pulled her through, although she would never get past not having her daddy.

  “Losing your father probably has something to do with why you’re so emotional about this, Gin,” Paul said.

  She nodded her head. “I still miss my daddy,” she said. “There’s no other way to put it. The pain I feel won’t go away. I can put it off from time-to-time. But it’s there. And that’s what kind of scares me about this thing with Helena: What if she feels she’s losing you, losing us?”

  “We have to make her understand she’ll never lose us,” Paul said. “I believe she already knows that, but we’ll make sure she does.”

  They arrived at the hotel after stopping at a grocery store and picking up some sparkling cider. They wanted to toast with Ginger.

  Paul stopped at the hotel restaurant and picked up four champagne glasses. In their parents’ room, he made a toast.

  “To my wife, who I love so much; to our unborn child, who we will love with all of our hearts; to Hel
ena, our daughter and granddaughter that I could not love anymore than we do; and to God, thank you for blessing us with this incredible gift of growing our family.”

  They tapped glasses and drank up.

  “I cannot wait to see you with your little baby bump in a few months,” Madeline said.

  “I’m gonna keep it sexy,” Ginger said. “I refuse to be some oversized human blimp in frumpy clothes with swollen feet, sliding across the room.”

  “Yes, we can’t have that,” Paul said.

  “Look who’s talking now,” Brenda said. “He’s gotten himself together and lost a bunch of weight and now he can talk?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I earned it.”

  “Well, I can tell you right now that I’m breastfeeding—they say you lose weight quicker that way,” Ginger said.

  “How do you know this?” Madeline asked.

  “I got some information from the hospital last night, some pamphlets,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep. Between thinking about Paul in jail and Helena and being pregnant, it was too much for me to sleep. So…”

  “I would have done the same thing,” Madeline said. “I’m so happy you are pregnant. Isn’t it something to realize you have life growing in your stomach? How big of a miracle is that?”

  “That’s why I keep touching it. There’s nothing to feel yet,” Ginger said, “but it’s in there growing, little by little. An embryo, to a fetus to a baby to a real live person. It’s amazing.”

  “It is amazing, but we’re going to have to set up very regular doctor appointments,” Paul said. “You’re not a spring chicken anymore—although you still look young; don’t look at me like that. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

  “He’s thinking about this man he was in jail with last night,” Ginger said.

  “Hold on—that sounds too casual, like I’m always in jail or something,” Paul said, laughing.

  “Never know,” Brenda said. “This could be the start of something.”

  “Not here,” Paul said.

  “Anyway, before the pregnant woman was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say that we have to be positive. Nothing negative; not even thoughts. I’m going to eat right, drink right, rest, exercise, take vitamins. These nine months are going to be the most disciplined of my life. And it’s going to be easy. As much as I love wine, I didn’t look at you all drink it and feel like I had any urge for it. I am so into this.”

  “That’s the right attitude,” Brenda said.

  They chatted for another ten minutes or so, but never came to an agreement on how to share the important news with Helena.

  “We don’t have to figure it out today,” Paul said.

  He and Ginger headed to their room to relax before going to dinner at French Blue. They planned to meet their mothers in the lobby at seven so they could meet Mitch and his friend, Lionel.

  Paul was not really anxious about them going on a date, but he was cautious. The kind of madness that happened—shootings at schools, random violence—made most any sane person wary of the next.

  As they got dressed for dinner, Paul stopped what he was doing and walked over to his wife. She looked up at him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. “And before you say, ‘You haven’t said that to me in years,’ let me say I apologize. I love you.”

  They kissed and hugged each other tightly. “We should tell Helena to come home next weekend,” Ginger said. “We shouldn’t wait any longer. I don’t want this hanging over us. I want us to get past it so I can totally enjoy being pregnant and my family.”

  Paul said, “OK.” He agreed with Ginger, but he wondered how she would respond when he told her of his winnings. He was amazed that he had not told anyone but Big Al of his millions. Well, he did tell his father, too; he knew he was not going on the trip and would not blurt it out, as his mother might.

  After a restful few hours talking, nodding off and watching Law & Order, they prepared for the evening. Paul got in the shower first. “So I can get out of your way and let you take over the bathroom,” he said. “This dinner is going to be special.”

  “I hope so. I’m starving,” Ginger said as she applied makeup. “Thanksgiving dinner was good, but not great. Last night, I couldn’t eat anything after you left. So I’m ready for a great dinner.”

  Paul was not speaking of the meal, but he said, “Me, too.”

  He found the David Yurman diamond ring he purchased for her and slipped it in his jacket pocket. He poured the last of the wine he had remaining into a glass and enjoyed it and watched SportsCenter as he waited on Ginger.

  Several minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom looking lovely. “You’re having a boy,” Paul said.

  “Wishful thinking,” Ginger said.

  “I can tell,” he added. “You’re glowing. Your skin is glowing.”

  “That’s called lotion, Paul,” Ginger said. “You didn’t say I was glowing yesterday.”

  “Yesterday I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” he said.

  “I heard people say that if you’re pregnant with a boy your skin will glow,” Ginger said. “It’s too early for that with me. But that raises a question: Do you want to hear the gender of the baby in advance or when the baby is born?”

  “I want to wait. I like surprises,” he said.

  “I do, too. So it’s a deal; we will not learn the gender of our baby until she is born,” Ginger said.

  “Agreed—until he is born,” Paul cracked.

  Ginger participated in the little game, but she did not care if it was a boy or a girl. If anything, she leaned toward a boy because she had the experience of raising a girl—and she knew Paul was serious about wanting a boy.

  They debated the issue from the room to the lobby, where they were to ask their parents of their preference. But then they got to the lobby, Madeline and Brenda were not there. Ginger went to check the bathroom and they were not there. Before they could call the room, Paul’s cell phone rang. It was his mother.

  “Paul, we’re in a taxi,” she said. “Mitch and Madeline got things mixed up. He thought we were meeting there. She thought he was coming to pick us up. The restaurant does not seat unless all parties are present—and we couldn’t move the reservation back. So we jumped in a taxi so you and Ginger can go on with your night.”

  “Ma, we could have taken you to the restaurant,” Paul said. “Which one is it? Maybe we can meet you there for drinks after dinner.”

  “OK, good. It’s called Tra Vigne,” Brenda said.

  “That’s close to where we’re going. We passed it twice today,” Paul said. “OK, keep your phone on. I will call you after our meal. Or you call me before you all leave the place.”

  Tra Vigne was an Italian restaurant with vine covering the building with green and white awning just beyond a railroad track. It looked like something carved out of Italy.

  Mitch and Lionel waited at the bar for Madeline and Brenda, who were looking elegant and younger than their sixty-plus years. Both wore dresses and heels, but not too high. “You’ll never catch me falling on my butt,” Brenda said.

  Mitch, tall and distinguished with gray hair and a mustache, noticed Madeline immediately, and he and Lionel met them at the reception area. He and Madeline hugged while Lionel—who was not as tall as Mitch but was handsome with a wide, engaging smile—introduced himself to Brenda.

  Madeline and Lionel and Brenda and Mitch exchanged handshakes and pleasantries and they were escorted to their table. The restaurant was alive and noisy, full of people. It was an ideal setting for a double/blind date: nice, but not overly romantic.

  Mitch said, “To eat good food is to be close to God. It’s an Italian saying. And I agree with that. Eating is one of my true pleasures.”

  “Mine, too, Madeline said. “This place is supposed to have good food.”

  Madeline sat at the square table to Mitch’s left, with Brenda next to her and across from Mitch and Lionel to Brenda’s left. Madeline and Brend
a strategized on this arrangement. They wanted it so that if Mitch desired to engage in private conversation with Madeline, he would be able to do so without talking across the table. And the same with Lionel, who was an interesting man.

  He spent the latter part of his life running a foundation for underprivileged boys, after retiring from the military. He played the saxophone. He seemed genuine. And he had an edge about him.

  “Our foundation was legit; I can see how you’re looking at me,” Lionel said. “You’re thinking about that Jerry Sandusky fool from Penn State who molested all those boys. Don’t get any ideas.”

  The ladies laughed.

  The evening flowed nicely. The food was delicious and hearty. The wine was nice and flowed like water. The conversations ranged from raising kids to travel to the Presidential election to the awkwardness of blind dates.

  “Funny, but I never felt uncomfortable tonight,” Lionel said. “This has been great. My man Mitch took care of me, introduced me to a couple of nice women.”

  Something in those words forced Brenda to focus more on Mitch. She found herself looking across the able at him, as if drawn to him. She could not understand it—until then. She was not just looking at him anymore; she was staring.

  Her heartbeat increased and she excused herself to go to the bathroom. “Want me to go with you?” Madeline asked.

  Brenda sipped some water. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be right back,” she said.

  She collected herself and made it to the restroom. She was glad it was empty. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was shocked. But she was sure: Madeline’s friend, Mitch, was the young love of her life, Mitchell English.

  Brenda had not seen him in more than forty years. When last she did, he walked away with tears in his eyes after she refused to marry him. She was pregnant by her eventual husband, James, but he still wanted her to be his wife.

  Now there he was, sitting across the table from her. How could it be? How small is the world? More importantly, what would she do? Should she tell Madeline first? Should she pull Mitchell to the side? Should she do it at the table? And did he realize who she was?