Chapter 21 Harvesting Souls #2
“It’s so much more than that, and you know it. I guess the medicine’s helping, and I kind of want to delete who I was before it.”
Bec grabbed his hand. “Don’t say that, honey.”
“That’s not what I mean. It’s just ... people know me a certain way here. A fresh start wouldn’t be so bad. An adventure.”
“For the record,” Bec said, “the medicine hasn’t changed who you are. You’re still our Michael. It’s just helped your brain process things in a different way.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me. Whatever it does, it’s working. And this isn’t about running from what happened with Annette. I’m saying that the idea is really exciting.”
Bec looked at him for a while, then slid fearful yet excited eyes to Otis. “Where would we go?”
Otis rubbed his stubble, trying his best to temper his elation. “We’d have to do some research after harvest, wouldn’t we?”
“Look at him, Mom. He’s glowing.”
Bec laughed at that. “He is, isn’t he?”
“I can’t deny that a new adventure sounds delightful,” Otis said, noticing his upright posture and the happy tingling on his skin.
“Trying to re-create what we have here feels like a dull second act, but maybe it’s not about re-creating at all.
Maybe it’s about doing something new. Only if you’re really on board.
We’d have to talk to Cam too. It’s important for a college student to have a home to return to. ”
“Dad, Cam’s not coming home. Are you kidding me? As for me, it was my idea.”
“Fair point, but women make us do crazy things.” Otis looked over at Rebecca and winked.
“I want to walk into a new school and not know anyone, and no one have any opinions of me. Here, I’m the weird kid with a face covered in zits who finally had a girlfriend, then got dumped and then didn’t go to school for a week. Here, I’m Otis’s kid.”
“Oh, come now. You’re more than that,” Bec said.
“Let’s hope so,” Otis said. “Mike, you’re more than I’ll ever be.”
Mike gave a kind smile. “Anyway, I don’t need to sleep on it. Nothing’s tying me down here. What about your parents, Mom? And Jed?”
Rebecca paused and drew in a slow breath. The question had obviously been top of mind. “I can’t take care of them forever. Maybe it would be good for all of us.”
Otis swelled with pride when he heard her say that.
He took the bottle next to him and poured Mike a glass. “By God, let’s toast to the idea of setting sail, fam.”
Mike and Rebecca and Otis clinked their glasses, and Otis couldn’t remember a time when everything felt more right.
“You’re taking our daughter from us? And our last grandchild?” Marshall sat in his trusty recliner in the living room. They still hadn’t painted over the scarlet-red walls—still hadn’t put much effort into cleaning up the place.
“Dad, that’s not what this is about.” Rebecca had stayed incredibly strong since Jed had lashed out at her. In fact, that night had been good for her. She seemed to have finally found peace with all that had happened. Her decision to leave them verified it.
“You sure that’s not what it’s about?” Marshall asked.
“That’s what it feels like. Don’t you think, Olivia?
” He looked over at his wife, who sat in her go-to chair where she typically knitted as they watched their favorite news channel.
There was no knitting today. She looked exhausted already, and Bec had only just told them.
“I don’t know what to say. Why would you leave?” Her voice was caked in desperation.
“Because we want a new adventure.”
“Where?” Olivia asked. “Why don’t you move to Napa? Then we can still see you.”
“We’re not moving to Napa. We want to find something new, something fresh.”
Marshall groaned. “Rebecca, you’ve always run from things. I don’t know what you’re running from now. Lloyd Bramhall. Us. Your brother. I was raised not to abandon my family, and I’d hoped I’d raised you the same way.”
Sitting by his wife on the couch, Otis waited for her to dig her nails into his thigh, but she held strong. Dammit, he was proud of her.
“Dad, I have given you guys my everything. It’s time I look out for my family. It’s time I go live my life. We’ll get some good money from the sale. We can help you out, but we’re leaving, and I don’t know where. That’s the exciting part.”
Marshall inclined his eyebrows. “The exciting part, yeah. I’m sure your brother will think so.”
“He has to do his own growing; I can’t carry him. If you want my opinion, which I know you don’t, stop pandering to him. Quit picking him up every time he falls. I know that I’m done doing that.”
“We’re not asking for your opinion,” Olivia said, showing rare backbone.
“Oh, I know.” Bec centered herself. “I love you guys so much and can’t wait for you to visit us. And I’d love to know you support us.”
Olivia whimpered. “What happens when we can’t take care of Jed any longer? What happens when we can’t take care of ourselves?”
It was a hell of a question, a sharp blade of one.
“Mom, we’ll always be there for you, however we can. Hopefully, you guys have a lot of years left anyway.”
Marshall laughed. “Oh, joy.”
“Look, guys. I have to live my life. Mike will be in college soon. Otis and I have new adventures ahead.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
Bec didn’t look devastated; she looked like she’d expected nothing less. Hell, she looked more at peace than he’d ever seen her.
Harvest was everything Otis had hoped, and he felt like they’d captured the whisper of the ranch like never before.
Once the wines were in tanks and fermenting without issue, the three of them started taking research trips.
They drove down to Paso Robles and up to the Russian River Valley.
They flew to Charlottesville for a few days and tasted interesting cab francs and viogniers, then shot up to the Finger Lakes for riesling.
Nothing quite hit home yet, but the journey couldn’t have been more fun.
Otis had never seen Mike happier. Something about this being his idea revved his engines.
The moving parts locked into place when they landed in Portland, Oregon.
It felt different from California, but the West Coast vibe was still there and terribly appealing.
Otis didn’t know the first thing about growing pinot noir.
He’d thought about trying some back in Sonoma but had never quite gotten around to it.
Like riesling, a variety like that took all your focus.
It wasn’t something you could dabble in.
His suspicions proved to be true as they toured the Willamette Valley and met with growers over the course of a week.
He couldn’t imagine a prettier place in the country.
Could they get used to the cold and wet?
The food was extraordinary, and the people seemed like the good kind.
They tasted pinot after pinot, and Otis would close his eyes and imagine a world where he devoted himself to a new grape.
Still, they had yet to see Washington State.
They drove along the Columbia River in a rented Jeep, and when they finally crossed over the bridge, Otis’s world shifted.
He had never seen anything like this landscape in his life.
It wasn’t far from Montana, and yet it was a world away.
When the vineyards came into view, he gasped.
They were these beautiful stretches of green tucked onto desert hills.
Oases in the desert. But that big wide river surely gave a nice cooling effect, not to mention an endless supply of irrigation water.
They stayed three nights in Walla Walla and met with folks that Otis had heard about over the years, the likes of Leonetti and Woodward Canyon.
Everyone knew of Otis and treated him with almost too much respect.
Not one let him go without asking about the early-pick vintage.
He had done so much with his life, made some amazing vintages, but they’d likely put He picked reds in early July one year on his tombstone.
The wines.
Of.
Washington.
Otis wasn’t sure what to make of them. Some were far from polished.
He could tell quickly that many of the winemakers were former cherry farmers trying to figure things out.
They lacked a proper education in wine, including ample time spent in the Old World.
The potential of this fruit and land, however, could not be denied.
In the right hands, Washington State could produce wines that could disrupt the world order.
There are moments that define a life. The day you meet your soulmate. The day you marry her. The day your children come into the world. The day you find your purpose. In a winemaker’s life, the day you find your land.
If you’re lucky, you might find a second plot.
Otis knew even as they came around the bend on the highway that he’d found a place that would be as important to him as a Stradivarius might be to the right violinist.
This land was a petite blonde stopping a bus, climbing on, walking down the aisle, and connecting eyes as if drawing coordinates in the stars.
She was the first breaths of two baby boys as they curled into their mother’s arms. She was a mirror of the piece of land that would become Lost Souls Ranch.
She, this mountain, was as much destiny as Rebecca and the boys and the passion that had nearly consumed him.
Yes, she was a she.
Red Mountain exuded femininity. There were no formal signs, no tasting rooms. This wasn’t Sonoma. Certainly not Napa. This wasn’t even Walla Walla. This was the wild frontier.
She was just a blip on the map.
And yet she was everything.
Everything.
A southwest-facing slope, the sun showering warm, ripening rays over the vines that had already been picked of their bounty. Their leaves had changed to the colors of a campfire, and together those shades were a painting on a canvas of virgin soil.
Never had Otis seen a piece of land that called out more to him.