Chapter 10
“This is so fascinating,” Morgan observed as she stood next to Zion.
Zion glanced over, expecting to see an eyeroll or a sneering look, but Morgan only smiled at her. The vineyard owner had offered them a tour of the grounds, and of his latest area of harvest. He was showing them how they harvested the grapes, and how they cared and maintained them, so they didn’t get damaged.
A previous memory made Zion wary of seemingly benign comments. Jane had been completely bored and quite vocal about the vineyard. Morgan indeed seemed fascinated by the wine-making process. It was a great relief to Zion. She’d almost said no to the tour, for fear that her companion would embarrass her with an obvious disinterest. She was pleasantly surprised.
“I’m thinking we might want to head back soon,” the vintner commented as the gathering clouds looked more and more ominous in the distance.
The three began walking back through the vines toward the parked golf cart, but no sooner had they stepped in that direction, the clouds broke and it started to rain. By the time they made it back to the golf cart they were all soaked. Once again, Zion anticipated an acrid comment from Morgan, but quite the opposite happened.
“And they say it never rains in California…” Morgan grinned brightly, as she wrung out her hair dripping with rain.
Zion chuckled, draping her jacket, that had mercifully been thrown across the seat of the cart, and was therefore dry, around Morgan’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” Morgan smiled. “I had no idea it was going to rain either.”
“We will get straight over to the B they had their own private cabin. The bathroom boasted a claw foot bathtub. Zion had suggested a bath so Morgan could warm up and she had readily accepted.
There was a light knock on the bathroom door. Morgan hurriedly checked to ensure that she was covered in bubbles in all her appropriate places.
“Come in,” she called softly, noting that Zion had waited until she’d given permission. It was another thing that separated Zion from so many others she noted.
Zion opened the door partially, not looking fully into the bathroom. “Are you decent?”
Morgan smiled to herself; Zion really was the utmost gentlewoman.
“Yes, you can come in.”
Stepping inside, Zion peered over at the tub, tilting her head slightly. She’d noted that Morgan was covered in bubbles. Internally she felt something shift toward this woman. Finding someone demure in this day and age was nearly impossible, especially one that looked like Morgan.
“Feeling better?” Zion queried, smiling.
“Much!” Morgan enthused.
Zion grimaced. “I apologize again for not checking the weather.”
Morgan shook her head. “It’s not your fault, I was so busy trying to look pretty that I didn’t think about the possibility it would get cold.”
Zion canted her head, narrowing her eyes a little, a smile spread across her lips. “I’m not sure.”
Morgan pressed her lips together, a rosy color bloomed on her cheeks and her bright green eyes shone. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”
Zion shrugged. “Just how I see it.” Morgan continued to blush as she playfully patted at the bubbles around her, her eyes did not meet Zion’s. Zion found the gesture endearing. “So…we have a few options for dinner.”
“Yes?” Morgan now looked at Zion. Her gaze was almost wonderous in curiosity. It was nothing like the expectant, almost challenging look Zion was used to receiving from Jane.
Zion took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.
“Well, there’s a fairly fancy French restaurant in town; there’s also a chop house that’s pretty nice too.” Morgan nodded, looking pensive. “Then again there’s some good restaurants nearby, like Grace’s Table or Eiko’s…” Zion’s voice trailed off as Morgan began to nod.
“What kind of food does Grace’s Table have? Eiko’s sounds like Japanese.”
“Right you are,” Zion affirmed. “Grace’s is kind a mix of Italian, French, and American.”
Morgan ran her hand through her hair, then peered up at Zion. “Which one do you like?”
Zion did her best to suppress her smile, so much so that her eyes sparkled with the effort. She was so pleased with being asked what she liked for a change, it was almost painful. “I like Grace’s actually.”
Morgan nodded, then canted her head. “Any chance we can order in from Grace’s?”
“You mean stay in the room?”
Morgan caught her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s such a beautiful room, I’d hate to waste it. We do have a little dinner table.”
It was difficult for Zion not to reach down and hug the other woman, the idea of just relaxing in the room was a tantalizing thought.
“I think I can arrange that,” Zion told Morgan with a bright smile as she took out her phone. She pulled Grace’s Table’s menu up and handed the phone to Morgan. “Just tell me what you’d like to order.”
“You pick,” Morgan told her. “I trust you.”
Zion took her phone back. “As you wish, madame.”
Zion sat down on the small porch, looking over the menu on her phone, and making decisions about what she’d order for her and Morgan. It felt so good having Morgan tell her that she trusted her, it made her feel validated again. Jane had always been so impossible to please when they’d come to Napa.
“I’m not eating at that shit hole!” Jane snapped, when Zion suggested Grace’s Table.
“The food is really good there,” Zion replied.
“We’re eating at LaToque.”
Zion did her best not to scowl, she really didn’t like French food. Jane knew it, but didn’t seem to care. Instead, Zion sighed. “It’s been a long day, and we need to get dressed up to go there.”
“So?” was Jane’s retort. “Why are you trying to ruin my time this weekend? You know I’ve been stressed, but I guess you just don’t care.”
Zion blew her breath out through her nose, feeling instantly guilty. “You’re right, I know you love that place. Okay, we’ll go there.”
Jane smiled a brilliant, wide smile, her blue eyes lit up. “Aww, see? You do love me!”
Later at the restaurant, Jane made a big deal about where they sat. “We don’t want to be at a loser table,” she told Zion, as she snapped her fingers at the hapless hostess who’d been ready to show them to a table located near the kitchen. “The kitchen is far too noisy! Find us something better!” Jane insisted.
The hostesses’ eyes widened at Jane’s imperious tone. She glanced at Zion, who gave the girl an embarrassed smile. “I’ll see what I can do,” The hostess said and rushed away.
“We don’t have a reservation, and this place is packed,” Zion murmured to Jane.
Jane waved away the comment, tapping a scarlet red nail impatiently on the hostess desk. When the news wasn’t good, Jane flew into a rage, causing a scene and demanding to see the manager. Zion took a step back, recoiling from her girlfriend, unwilling to be associated with someone acting the way she was.
“I thought I could count on you…” Jane hissed at Zion later when they were seated by the manager himself.
“To what?” Zion queried holding up her hand plaintively. “To scream at the staff like you were?”
Jane’s lips twitched, a sign that she couldn’t decide whether to blast Zion or not. It always drove her crazy when Zion didn’t pander to her needs. Finally, she gave a long-suffering sigh, and nodded. “I get it,” she stated, although Zion was fairly sure she didn’t. “You’re so used to being used as a doormat that you don’t know any other way to act.” She flipped her hair back from her shoulders, with a smug smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Someone has to wear the pants in this relationship.”
Later, back at the hotel, the sex could almost be described as violent.
Jane had continued to push every one of Zion’s buttons. Zion lost some of her iron clad control and Jane enjoyed it thoroughly. Afterwards, Zion retreated to the bathroom to take a long hot shower, doing her best to wash away her shame and anger. Meanwhile, Jane smoked in the non-smoking room, and smiled like a satisfied cheshire cat.
“Oh, this is so good!” Morgan exclaimed, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed. “Have you tried this?”
“No, that’s new on the menu, is it good?”
“You have to try it!” Morgan told her, taking a forkful of the halibut and leaned forward to offer it to Zion.
Smiling, Zion took the proffered bite, and nodded in agreement as she chewed. “That is definitely a keeper.”
Morgan glanced around her at the room, smiling, and took a sip of her wine.
“This is a really beautiful place.”
Zion returned her smile, unaccountably pleased. “I really like it; I’ve been coming here for years now.”
“I can certainly see why,” Morgan observed. A thought struck Morgan, but she knew it wasn’t something she should ask. She was unable to disguise her quizzical look before it piqued Zion’s curiosity.
“Ask,” Zion instructed her gently.
Morgan shook her head. “It’s not my place and it’s none of my business.”
Zion’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if wanting to coax the question from Morgan. “You want to know if I brought Fancy here.”
Morgan closed her eyes, and opening one eye she inclined her head. “I’m sorry, I told you, I’m naturally curious about everything.”
Zion chuckled. “I did bring her here, yes.”
Morgan pursed her lips, she refused to let her mouth get her into more trouble.
“And no,” Zion continued, sensing the next question, “she didn’t have the same impression of the place you have.”
Morgan looked shocked. “She didn’t like it here?”
Zion curled her lips in recollection. “She said it was too low end for her.”
“Well, la dee da… ” Morgan replied rolling her eyes, already hating Fancy.
Zion chuckled. “She was more of a five-star resort, Michelin rated restaurant kind of girl.”
“Sounds like a snob to me,” Morgan uttered before she could stop herself.
Zion laughed out loud at Morgan’s quick remark. “You can definitely say that.”
Morgan canted her head. “What was someone like you doing with her?”
“I’m curious as to what you mean by someone like me.”
Morgan bit her lip, unsure she should be this direct , but she figured Zion had been upfront and honest with her, so she could return the same favor.
“You strike me as a very gallant, salt of the earth, knight in shining armor type,” Morgan intimated, “and she strikes me as the wicked, dragon queen.”
Zion chuckled, putting her tongue to her upper lip, her blue eyes sparkled in delight at the description. “She was definitely not who I thought she was.”
Zion noticed her friends gathered in a group as she approached them, catching the furtive glances as she joined. She noticed Dax put her phone away immediately.
“What’s the haps, kids?” Zion asked.
“Nothing.” Dax shrugged. “Why?”
Zion pursed her lips at her best friend, knowing the woman well enough to know she was lying.
“Give.”
Dax grimaced. “It’s nothing, just a video.”
“Okay…” Zion said, eyes perplexed.
“Z, it’s…” Jaims began, knowing this wasn’t going to go well, her voice trailing off as she shook her head. “You really don’t want to see this.”
“Dude!” Shayne exclaimed. “She needs to know what’s the what here.”
“Yeah, I agree with L word,” Errol put in.
Dax looked pained, glancing at the other members of the crew, who all ended up nodding in unison. She sighed, and hesitatingly handed Zion the phone, then pressed play on the video.
Zion took the phone, surprised to see Jane in the video. Jane was dressed in a white sequined gown, her hair was tied up, jewels glistened at her throat and her ears. Zion all but fell over when she put her arm through the crook of a dark-haired man’s arm.
“Representative Winston Farro just arrived with his wife, Jane. Representative Farro just announced that he was running for governor.”
Zion handed the phone back to Dax, feeling sick suddenly. Turning, she strode to the bar, and poured herself a shot, instantly followed by another and another. Doing her best to drown her disbelief and doing anything she could to forget what she’d just learned.
“How did you meet her?” Morgan asked.
“She came into the bar,” Zion told her, her tone becoming more vacant.
Morgan nodded, and hearing the caution in Zion’s voice, she quickly changed the subject. She knew she’d touched a nerve and didn’t want to continue to poke at it.
“This wine is really lovely.” Morgan took another sip. “It’s got a very nice woodsy finish.”
Zion noted the change in subject. She appreciated it as she picked up her glass. “Yeah, it’s one I’m definitely going to get for the bar.”
“I think it’s really great that you feature good-quality wines at the bar,” Morgan enthused. “I know when I order wine at most bars I’m getting a lower shelf wine. That’s why I usually don’t even bother.” She smirked warmly.
“I figured if I’m going to set myself apart from other bars, I should do things a bit differently,” Zion replied.
“I think it’s a great business model.” Morgan grinned.
“It’s been working for me so far.”
They continued to chat about random things. Morgan avoided initiating a conversation about Jane, even if her curiosity was killing her.
“I have a question for you,” Zion said.
“What’s that?”
Zion looked back at her for a long moment, obviously debating asking the question.
“What is it?” Morgan repeated.
“I’m wondering if…well, if you have ever been with another woman.”
Morgan’s look was both pensive and thoughtful. “I have,” she said, “it was very casual, and nothing really came out of it.”
“Why?” Zion asked. Her reply piquing her interest.
Morgan shrugged. “I think that neither of us were interested in a long-term relationship. I’d just come out of a dismal relationship with a man, and she’d broken up with her girlfriend recently as well. It just wasn’t the time for either of us.”
Zion looked satisfied with the answer.
Later that evening, they moved to the couch in the living room area of the small cabin. Morgan caught herself yawning, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I promise it’s not the company.”
Zion glanced at her watch. “It is getting pretty late, we should probably talk about sleeping arrangements.”
“Aw, yes, I guess we should,” Morgan commented, having observed the king-sized bed in the room, but not wanting to assume anything.
“This couch pulls out,” Zion said. “I can sleep here, so you can have the bed.”
“We can’t share that big old bed?” Morgan queried, an auburn eyebrow raised. “I promise I’ll stay on my side; your virtue is safe with me.” She winked.
Zion laughed. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“And I very much appreciate that, but I’m betting the mattress on this pull out is lumpy and uncomfortable.”
Zion studied the couch. “Probably.” She reached out a hand and touched Morgan’s cheek, taking Morgan by surprise. Zion looked serious. “You should know that I’m very interested in you, but I really want to take things slow. I hope that’s okay.”
Morgan felt her heart skip a beat. “I understand, and of course it’s okay.” She nodded. Getting up from the couch, she looked at Zion. “I’m going to go change.” She picked up her overnight bag and walked into the bathroom.
Zion stared after her for a long moment, a thread of worry wriggling through her. When Morgan walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she was clean faced, and wore a pair of silky pajamas. The relief on Zion’s face was quite evident.
Morgan canted her head. “I’m guessing you were worried about what I’d be wearing…”
Zion opened her mouth in surprise, but then closed it, nodding.
Morgan laughed softly, reaching out to touch Zion on the chin. “I told you that your virtue was safe with me.” She winked. “I meant that.”
Zion stood up, acknowledging the close proximity to Morgan. She looked down into Morgan’s face, eyes searching. “I trust you.” With that, Zion leaned in, kissing Morgan’s lips softly, then stepped back. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Pick your side,” she said, pointing to the bed. It made Morgan laugh. Zion grabbed her overnight, slung it over her shoulder, and went into the bathroom.
When Zion emerged twenty minutes later Morgan could have been bowled over with a feather. Zion was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. What shocked Morgan to her core was the colorful sleeve tattoos that were on display.
Zion quirked her lips in a grin. “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting this,” she said, gesturing to her arms, even as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Morgan moved closer, running her hand down one of Zion’s arms. “No, no I was not.” Her voice was full of awe.
One of the more prominent parts of the sleeve on Zion’s left shoulder was a coat of arms in red, yellow and black. The symbol consisted of a knight’s helmet atop a shield, featuring English crosses in red and white, as well as yellow and black diamond shapes. The shield was balanced by a leopard on each side. The name Calvert featured in a banner, and she could make out the words Fatti maschii parole femine scrolled across a banner at the bottom of the crest.
“What does this mean?” Morgan asked, touching the banner at the bottom of the crest.
Zion offered a small smile. “It means manly deeds, womanly words, or strong deeds, gentle words, depending on who you ask.”
Morgan sat back, looking up at Zion. “What language is it?”
“Italian.” Zion grinned. “Apparently the phrase was all the rage in seventeenth-century England.”
Morgan nodded. “Well it definitely fits you, from what I’ve seen.”
Zion laughed softly. “I can’t take credit, it’s apparently my family crest, but I like it.”
“I understand that.” Morgan smiled. “So you’re English?”
“English, Scottish, and Northern Irish,” Zion told her.
Morgan ran her hand over the other designs on Zion’s left arm. “This is really beautiful work. Let’s see the right arm now.”
Zion chuckled, and obliged her by shifting to show her the other arm. “This is my Navy side,” she said, with a proud smile.
“Wow…” Morgan muttered in awe.
Zion’s right arm featured a beautifully detailed aircraft carrier moving through the sea, with an American flag waving behind it, and a banner across the bow with the name USS Carl Vinson CVN 70 . There were also five birds flying around the ship.
“Okay, I assume the Carl Vinson is the name of the ship you served on, but what does CVN stand for?”
“Basically, it denotes it as a Nuclear-powered carrier. C stands for carrier, V stands for volplane, which is French for glide, and the N is for nuclear.”
Morgan continued to examine the tattoo and touched one of the birds. “And what does this stand for?”
Zion smiled indulgently. “Swallows represent five thousand nautical miles sailed, in the career of a sailor.”
“And you have five…”
“I’ve gone around the world once, and then some.”
“Holy cow! That’s a lot.”
Zion laughed. “It felt like a lot.”
Morgan ran her hand down Zion’s arm, shaking her head in amazement. “You’ve lived a full life, haven’t you?”
Zion looked thoughtful. “I suppose I have.” She gave Morgan a direct look. “What about you?”
“Me?” Morgan replied sounding surprised.
“Yes, you,” Zion countered, moving to join her, sitting back against the headboard. Her blue eyes met Morgan’s. “We seem to talk about me all the time, but I never hear much about you.”
Morgan pressed her lips together, looking apologetic. “It’s a habit of mine to ask a lot of questions, I’m really not trying to be evasive.”
“Okay,” Zion said, motioning for Morgan to get comfortable, and was pleased when Morgan moved to sit very close to her. It seemed natural for Zion to put her arm around Morgan’s shoulder. “Tell me about you.”
“Uhhh,” Morgan stammered. “I grew up in the Midwest, it was deathly boring. Just dust and crops as far as the eye could see.”
“Is that why you began writing? Or did that come later?”
Morgan looked thoughtful. “I guess that is when I started making up stories, but it started with reading voraciously, anything I could get my hands on.” She smiled wistfully. “My school was small, and had a tiny library but I think I read every book in it that was fiction. I got to visit other places, other worlds even.”
Zion nodded. “What kind of stories would you make up?”
Morgan laughed softly. “Oh, you know, kids’ stuff. I read the Black Stallion series and always imagined myself being a jockey, or I would read the Dragonriders of Pern series and imagined that I could fly in the sky on a beautiful, powerful dragon.”
“I read that series too,” Zion admitted.
“You did?” Morgan was surprised.
“Oh yeah, I read everything that Anne McCaffrey wrote. There wasn’t a lot to do on the carrier when I wasn’t working, and someone had brought her book on board.”
“So, you are a reader.” Morgan widened her eyes dramatically.
“I never said I wasn’t. I just don’t usually read romance books,” Zion admitted. “I like science fiction more. Other worlds, other beings, fantastical stories.”
Morgan nodded, her eyes remaining thoughtful under her auburn lashes. “What if the romance was sapphic?”
Zion looked intrigued. “I don’t know, I’ve never read any of that either.”
“Hmm,” Morgan murmured. “Maybe I’ll write a sapphic romance one day and I’ll get you to read it.”
Zion chuckled. “If you write one, I’ll read it.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Morgan smiled.
“Indeed.” Zion returned Morgan’s smile. “So, your parents are farmers?”
“My father and brothers are. My mom is the quintessential homemaker.”
“Mine was too,” Zion commented.
“Was?” Morgan questioned.
“Yes, she died when I was seventeen.”
“I’m so sorry.” Morgan rubbed Zion’s shoulder.
“We’re not talking about me, though.” Zion’s eyes narrowed. “So, when did you start writing down the stories?”
Morgan gave Zion a sour look, not liking the subject to be about her, but she knew it wasn’t fair if she didn’t share like Zion had.
“Oh, I was a young teen with my very first crush.” Morgan sighed dreamily.
“And who was he?”
“His name was Brad Pickford, he was two grades above me, and so handsome. At least I thought so then.”
“Did Brad like you too?”
“Ha!” Morgan scoffed. “Brad didn’t know I was alive. But that didn’t stop me from making up a whole story about the two of us dating and getting married.”
Zion glanced at Morgan. “And what ever became of Brad?”
“I killed him off in the next story I wrote.” Morgan grinned ruefully.
“Wow!” Zion exclaimed. “Woman scorned and all that?”
“Pfft,” Morgan snorted, “more like woman never even existing for him. He turned out to be a real jerk, who got himself a reputation for claiming he’d slept with girls he hadn’t. So, my sequel included a plot by all those girls to kill him. It was very satisfying.”
“Duly noted,” Zion quipped.
Morgan laughed. “You don’t have to worry; you strike me as the exact opposite.”
“That’s true, I’m not a kiss and tell kind of boi.”
“Have I mentioned how much I admire your very gallant ways?”
The corner of Zion’s lips tugged into a smile. “I learned from old movies.”
“Really now? Like which movies?”
“Oh, the classics, Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, Twelve O’Clock High, Waterloo Bridge.”
“Interesting,” Morgan said. “Men weren’t always gallant in those movies though.”
“Well, if you ignore a lot of the obvious misogyny, and focus on the part where men opened doors, and protect their women, then it’s there.”
“So…Scarlett or Melanie?” Morgan queried.
“Melanie,” Zion answered quickly.
Morgan looked shocked. “Really?”
Zion pressed her lips together. “I’ll admit, Vivien Leigh was absolutely gorgeous, but I liked Melanie’s character better. She was demure, gentle and genuinely sweet.”
“And that’s what you prefer?”
Zion blew her breath out in a sigh. “I know, it’s hopelessly old fashioned, and probably why I’ve failed in the big romance department, but yeah, it is what I like.”
Morgan tilted her head, giving Zion a measured look. “Would you say you’re more like Rhett or Ashley?”
“Ohh…” Zion murmured. “I’d say a bit of both. I try to be even tempered, gentile and loyal, but I’m also no doormat, and given a situation where someone I love is in danger, I can be a door-kicking, fist-wielding Rhett.”
Morgan sighed contently. “I like that.”
“And would you say you usually date Rhetts or Ashleys?”
Morgan scrunched her face in disgust. “Lately I’ve been dating a lot of Frank Kennedys or worse, one of the Yankee carpetbaggers. Either they’re doormats, or opportunistic parasites.”
Zion blinked a couple of times. “Well, that’s oddly specific.”
“Writer, remember?” Morgan winked.
Zion chuckled. “You certainly are.”
They talked some more about Morgan’s childhood, and Iowa, where she was from. Morgan leaned against Zion, feeling comfortable and happy. Zion enjoyed the feel of Morgan against her, feeling like they fit together well. Eventually they got under the covers, continuing to discuss things long into the night. It was a lovely evening.