Chapter 27
Rosa
E mi and Javi are both hard at work in the vineyard by the time Jake and I make an appearance, but I can’t bring myself to care. The four of us remove the hail nets and fold them up, stacking them at the end of the rows of vines. We’ll have to sort them out later—Wade’s, Jansen’s, Belmonte’s, ours—but for now, our focus is on clearing the vineyard and inspecting the crops for damage.
I’m not as well-versed in identifying problems as Jake and the interns, so I hang back as they trek through the rows, lifting leaves, peering at the clusters of grapes. Javi takes notes as Jake points out areas for further inspection, and by noon everyone seems to be breathing easier. I pull Jake aside and ask him for his honest opinion.
“Not perfect,” he says, “but pretty damn close. We were able to save most of the crops, and the little damage we did take on should reverse itself by next season.”
I can feel my knees start to go weak, but I take a breath and force myself to stay standing. “Thank God,” I breathe.
The outcome could have been disastrous, I know. If it wasn’t for Jake, our ragtag crew, and the generosity of friends and family, we could have lost an entire season’s worth of grapes. All our hard work, financial strain, and dreams—down the drain in one bad weather pattern. And helped along with a dash of sabotage.
I head to the house a few minutes earlier than the other three, promising them a quick lunch before they dive back into the work. As I putter around the kitchen, I glance at the metal sign on the wall that Jake gave me just two short weeks ago.
Somehow it’s become my focal point, my guide for rebuilding this long-neglected winery. Bring it back to what it used to be, take it forward to what it could become.
The combination of past and potential has taken hold of me, and I don’t want to let go.
And somehow I know I’m not just thinking about Caparelli.
I can’t run from the truth anymore. When the harvest comes, I want Jake to be there. I want him by my side and in my bed. Our past, our present, and our potential.
But ten years ago, I let him leave. And now I don’t know how to ask him to stay.
* * *
Once lunch is over, Jake gives Emi and Javier instructions for the rest of the afternoon. As they head out, he adds, “Rosa and I are going to return the hail nets, so when you’re done, go ahead and go home for the night. Good work today.”
I wait until the back door closes, then say, “We are?”
He leans over and kisses me, a brief hard smack of the lips. “Yup. No time like the present.”
Well, okay then. I resist the urge to press my fingertips to my lips, still tingling from that kiss.
Jake drives us up the hill to the vineyard in his truck, and we load the stacks of nets into the back. I start moving the final bunch when he stops me with a hand on my arm. “Your cousins said those nets were originally from Caparelli.”
I nod. “Some of them, but not all. And I refuse to give Uncle Geno a single thing to hold over my head anymore.”
He doesn’t smile, exactly, but the expression on his face tells me he knows the subtext of what I just said.
There’s something powerful about being seen , I realize, and I didn’t know how much I missed that until Jake came back into my life.
We wave goodbye to Emi and Javier and make the short drive around to the front of Jansen’s property. Jake offloads the hail nets while I chat with the foreman, Antonio, thanking him again for the crew’s help yesterday.
“Neighbors help neighbors,” he says simply, tugging his hat a little lower against the blazing sun. “Turned out to be a pretty good evening after all that. Except for the business at the end.”
I blush and try to figure out a way to change the subject.
“All done,” Jake says, shoving his hands into his pockets as he joins us. “Let us know if there’s any way we can repay the favor.”
“Will do,” Antonio replies and turns to go. Then he stops and calls over his shoulder, “Hey, forgot to mention this yesterday, but you don’t happen to have a night crew, do you?”
Jake and I look at each other, confused. “No,” I say. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Oh, Pedro said he saw someone in your vines a few times over the past couple weeks. He likes to walk later in the evening, when it’s not so hot. He thought the guy worked for you, then realized he didn’t see him yesterday when we were setting up the hail nets.”
My heart starts beating faster. “Do you think he could identify whoever it was? If possible?”
“Suppose so. I’ll ask him.”
“And if anyone sees something like that again, let us know, okay?” Jake adds.
We thank him again and head to the truck. Once we’re in the cab, I turn to Jake. “That was promising.”
“Yep.” He backs up the truck and turns it around, heading into town. “Let’s drop these off at Wade’s before we head over to Belmonte.”
I nod, not particularly anxious to be around my uncle again so soon after last night’s blowup. Maybe if we stall long enough, he won’t be there when we bring the nets back.
A quick detour to Wade’s, though, isn’t enough to put off the inevitable, and far too soon we’re turning onto the long road to Belmonte.
I realize it’s been weeks since I’ve been here. And isn’t it funny how these weeks at Caparelli with Jake have felt more like home to me than the place I lived and worked at for most of my adult life? I lean my head on the window and watch the scenery pass by, the long straight rows of vines climbing the hillsides on either side of the road to the family home.
Here and there I can see workers in the fields, so many of them, and a tiny rush of sadness overtakes me as I wish I could provide Caparelli with the same support. Then I look at Jake and think of Javi and Emi back on our land doing the same work on a smaller scale, and I know I’m doing my best. We’re doing our best.
Nonna would be proud.
Jake pulls into one of the parking spaces to the side of the winery building, gravel crunching under his tires. He turns off the truck, and we both sit there for a moment, watching the buzz of activity all around us. It’s late in the afternoon, and workers are putting away their equipment, chatting with each other, piling into their own vehicles to head home for the evening. I see my cousins, working alongside the crew, and I feel a pang of loss at what I never really had here. I was never part of the team.
Maybe that’s what Nonna saw; maybe she knew my sisters and I would always be on the outskirts of a Belmonte/Caparelli combination that Geno ran. Maybe she knew we needed something just for us.
Geno walks around the edge of the barn, and I feel my body stiffen. Without speaking, Jake puts his hand on my knee and squeezes gently.
Maybe he knows what I need, too.
My gaze flicks over to the man Geno is talking to, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
Then I gasp. “Holy shit .”