A Kiss of Cabernet Page 17

  Jake said nothing, but she heard him sigh as he faced straight ahead, a worried look on his face. He grabbed her hand and pulled it into his lap, idly stroking her palm with his fingers. As though he had finally made up his mind, he turned to her.

  “I have an illness.”

  Illness? This wasn’t what she was expecting.

  “What kind of illness?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism out of her tone. She pictured his well-toned body in the shower on the night of the harvest.

  “Remember that first night when you found me on the floor? I was having an episode. I get dizzy and stumble, and then I pass out, but only for a few minutes. Then it passes and everything is normal. But it’s getting worse and it will continue to intensify until my speech slurs, my body shakes, and I…become an invalid—not a nice one, either.”

  “Are you on medication?” Why haven’t I heard about this before?

  “There’s no cure for what I have. What’s worse, it’s hereditary, generally passing through the male line. I’m dying, Paige. But living is far worse. Especially for the caregivers.”

  Paige swallowed the lump in her throat and concentrated on breathing. This couldn’t be true. Life wasn’t this unfair. She instinctively circled his waist with her arms, holding him tight against her body. She wished she could infuse him with her own health and energy.

  “I am so sorry, so sorry,” she murmured against his chest, tears welling up in her eyes.

  She forced herself not to cry. Of all the shattering events of the day, this was the worst. The vineyard was lost, but it didn’t even matter anymore. With Jake’s admission, she realized the only thing that mattered to her was the man.

  Without the vineyard to occupy her time, she could devote herself to Jake. He would have all the care and love he needed. Medical miracles happened all the time. Where was his fight? She needed to be there to put it back in him.

  She took a deep breath and squeezed tighter. “We can get through this, Jake. I’m sure there’s something that can be done. I want to be with you. I don’t care how long you have or what state you’ll be in. I love you, and maybe that’s what love is—taking each day for what it is and cherishing it. Isn’t there something called ‘in sickness and in health’? Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I believe that. I can do that for you.”

  She hadn’t meant to blurt out her feelings, but how could he think she would leave him because he was sick?

  “You don’t understand.” His tone sharp, he got up abruptly and walked to the water’s edge. She could see the tension in his stance.

  He turned around, a harsh expression on his face.

  “I care about you, Paige.”

  She waited for the next words, the knot in her stomach growing.

  “But I don’t love you.”

  …

  Jake wanted to die right now. Jump in the river and float out to sea. He turned back to face the river. If he looked at her face, he’d crush her in his arms and tell her he didn’t mean it. He did love her. He wanted to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times. Paige Reynoso loves me and I love her!

  He wanted to be with her always. But always would be a hell she knew nothing about.

  He squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw, and turned around. She stared at him, her lip trembling, a tear on her cheek.

  God help me. I have to hurt her. It’s the only way.

  He curled his hands at his sides. “Let’s go. Your return flight is in a couple of hours. I’ll have the driver drop you at the airport.”

  He walked to the car and slid into the backseat. She joined him, hugging the door on her side. She said nothing. Shoulders rigid, she looked straight ahead, like she couldn’t trust herself to speak.

  It must have cost her to tell him she loved him. It’s what he’d wanted to hear more than anything else in the world. But he didn’t have a normal life to give her. The most loving thing he could do for her was to say good-bye.

  In the cruelest way possible so she’ll forget me.

  Pulling up to departures, he jumped out and opened her door.

  “I’m sorry about all this.” It was lame, but he felt like he should say something.

  She looked past his shoulder, her expression as wooden as a mask. Clutching her overnight bag, she strode into the airport terminal, head held high.

  Swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he told the driver to drop him off in an old part of Philadelphia, before they headed back to New York. They stopped in front of a row of townhouses, all connected by common walls, with colonial doors flanked by rosebushes.

  The door opened as Jake was fumbling with his keys.

  His mother enveloped him in a hug.

  “The prodigal returns. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “You know me. I like to keep you on your toes.”

  He followed her down a central hall with doors leading off both sides. This was his boyhood home, and it was comforting. He needed it right now.

  “Can I get you something? Tea? Beer? I can make coffee. How long can you stay?”

  She perched on the arm of a Queen Anne chair and looked expectantly at Jake who had grown quiet.

  “I think I’ll pass, Mom.”

  “Is something bothering you, Jake? You look like you’ve lost your best friend. What is it?” She left the arm and sat down in the seat.

  Jake paced the length of the room, a grim expression on his face.

  “I’m in love.”

  Elizabeth smiled, then frowned. “Well, now, that’s a cause for celebration. Why the long face. Doesn’t she return your love?”

  “She loves me, all right. But it can’t go anywhere.” He spat out the words. “I’ve sent her away.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have Huntington’s.”

  Elizabeth spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Her fingers plucked at her slacks. “Have you seen a doctor? Did you get tested?”

  “Yes. But the tests were inconclusive.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Did you tell them about the genetic test we did when you were a baby? It was negative.”

  “I did. They said that didn’t mean anything. The disease can still manifest itself if the father had it.”

  “But that rarely happens.” Elizabeth stood in front of Jake and wrapped her arms around her son. “What are your symptoms?”

  “Dizzyness, stumbling, headaches…you know.”

  “Yes, I do. But those could be anything. Have you been tested for anything else?”

  “No. They do the full neurological tests when new symptoms develop. I haven’t had any new ones, so I haven’t gone back yet.”

  “Go back. Insist on the brain scans. This is your life, Jake. You can’t make assumptions. Not if there’s someone you care about. If doctors at the clinic don’t think they’re necessary yet, Dr. Michaels can order them.”

  He looked at his mother like he was seeing her for the first time. “I knew there was a reason I picked you to be my mother.”

  “Why, because I make you see what’s in front of your own eyes? Get more tests done. I’ll be right there with you. And if it turns out to be something else, you can thank me then.”

  “What if it confirms the disease?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “It would be easy for me to say that sending her away was the right thing to do. But I can’t. I loved your father very much. Before we were married, he told me about the disease, and he let me make the choice. I chose him. And I would do it all over again.”

  She walked over to the fireplace and picked up a picture from the mantel. Jake saw that it was the one of his father holding him when he was about two years old.

  “We hadn’t planned to have children—you knew that—but when you came along, we were thrilled. You were the best thing that ever happened to us, and when we were told you did not have the gene, we were doubly blessed.”

  She put the picture back and faced him. Her eyes held a soft expression, a
nd she smiled, showing the dimple he had inherited. “Get your physical. Check out other possibilities. Then go back to her, Jake. Tell her you love her. Let her make the decision. Don’t make it for her.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “My favorite cocktail napkin quote—‘wine improves with age; the older I get, the more I like it.’ Amen to that.”

  —from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes

  Jake breezed through the surgery and busied himself with paperwork during his recovery. He’d been ecstatic when they told him he had a blood clot…dangerous, but curable. It wasn’t Huntington’s.

  When the doctors pronounced him fit to work, he moved back to his apartment. Leaves had turned, and early snow was predicted in New York. He wondered if it ever snowed in Napa.

  For the past two weeks, he and Kevin had met with prospective buyers of the various properties he had around the country. He decided to sell everything he’d acquired in the early days and concentrate on Madison and its subsidiary. He never wanted to be in a precarious financial position again.

  “Did you see this? It came in the mail.” Kevin waltzed into the office, holding out a colorful brochure.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a prospectus. A new company called Terra Properties is building a luxury resort and is looking for investors. It’s Sims and Jorgensen.”

  Jake’s hand stilled, and he dropped the paper. “My property?”

  “Yes. Fifty-six luxury units among mature vineyards overlooking the Silverado Trail with a nine-hole golf course, gourmet restaurant, and five-star spa.”

  What had Paige said, right before the fiasco at Pantheon? Something about the near-impossibility of getting permits for development on prime grape land.

  “When is it going to be built?”

  “All they say is the process is underway.”

  The side of Jake’s mouth twitched. If Paige was right, the “process” might take a decade. He dropped the brochure in the wastebasket.

  “Not interested.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  “Did you look into that little project I gave you?”

  “I did, and it’s all set. When do you leave?”

  “One more checkup and I should be cleared to travel.”

  Kevin’s hand was firm on his shoulder. “I hope this works out for you, Jake. You haven’t even called her.”

  A slow smile curved his lips. “I’m a risk taker, Kev. My gut tells me this one is going to work out.”

  Brave words. The last time he saw, Paige her expression could have frozen a volcano.

  While convalescing he’d discovered he could do an enormous amount of work from his laptop. The knowledge had given him an idea…a wonderful, crazy idea.

  The flight to Oakland left early in the morning.

  But first, he had one more call to make.

  …

  Napa Valley in the late fall was an artist’s dream. Splashes of gold mingled with red and orange in row after row of harvested vines. Green grass fresh from the first rains of the season grew between rows and on hillsides, giving the valley the classic look of a Monet painting.

  The beauty of the season, combined with new wine releases, brought tourists in droves. They relaxed among majestic views and searched for wines with the perfect balance of fruit, longevity, and color. Paige saw them every day at the St. Helena winery where she had a temporary job in the tasting room, thanks to Mariel.

  When will I stop searching the crowds for his face?

  “Hey, give me a hand over here, would you?”

  Paige shook her head. Her sister was carrying a heavy box of dishes. She rushed over and took it out of her hands.

  “Let me take it. I’m the one who’s used to lifting fifty-pound sacks of sulfur. You’re the delicate one.”

  “Delicate? And who beat you in tennis last weekend?”

  “I said delicate. I didn’t say unathletic. Besides, Nicky can beat both of us, and he’s only eight.”

  Paige carried the dish box over to a sideboard where glasses and utensils waited to be unpacked. She had volunteered to help her sister set up for a party that evening. Her weekends weren’t exactly busy these days.

  When they finished setting the tables with light brown cloths and orange napkins, a florist truck arrived with arrangements of orange marigolds, yellow chrysanthemums, and baby’s breath. Tiny sugar pie pumpkins cut to hold a card were set at each place setting, and white votive candles were placed behind the glassware.

  “It looks beautiful,” said Paige, admiring her sister’s artistic ability. She had planned the decorations, selected the menu, and ordered the wines—from this winery, of course. “What’s the occasion?”

  “An engagement party,” said Mariel, following behind her sister and placing small white name cards in the holders.

  “Give me some of those and I’ll help you finish.”

  “No, I can do this. You know how precise I am. You go out and take those empty boxes with you. The caterer’s going to use that space when he arrives.”

  “Okay.” Paige stacked several cardboard boxes, putting them one inside the other, and carried them out to her pickup. The morning was still cool, but the sun was out, and it promised to be a bright day. Though to Paige even the brightest days seemed dim without Jake.

  The day he sent her away was burned into her memory. I don’t love you. He’d said it without inflection, annunciating each word like he was speaking a foreign language and he wanted to be sure she understood.

  Her world had shattered.

  Mariel came out the door, locking it behind her. “Let’s go. We can come back around six and see if the caterer needs help.”

  They drove through downtown St. Helena with its rows of brick storefronts and out past Beringer Vineyards and Greystone, now the home of the Culinary Institute of America. Mariel lived in a small apartment complex built on the side of an oak-studded knoll with a view overlooking a vineyard. Paige was staying with her until she found her own place. Garnet Hill and the Silverado Trail were far away.

  The truck stopped, and Paige stared straight ahead, her jaw rigid.

  “You miss him terribly, don’t you,” said Mariel, making it a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” Her voice was a whisper as her eyes filled. She hastily swiped at them with the back of her hands and followed her sister into the kitchen where Mariel put a teakettle on to heat.

  She still couldn’t believe how foolish she’d been, declaring her love when he’d made it clear he could make no commitments. When he said he didn’t love her, she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. If she had Jake’s love, she could handle anything…even the loss of the vineyard.

  When she came home, she researched Huntington’s. It wouldn’t have been pretty at the end, but she was strong and could have handled his care. Why couldn’t he see that?

  Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she had convinced herself that he did love her. He’d been protecting her. Out of love.

  “I know you’re in pain, but I have a feeling everything’s going to be all right,” said Mariel, handing her a cup of cinnamon spice tea. “Here, this will make you feel better. If I had chocolate in the house, I’d give you that instead.”

  They both laughed, and Paige inhaled the wonderful spicy smell of the tea before taking a sip. Her breath caught in a sob.

  “It’s just that I love him so much. I can’t stop.”

  Mariel put down her cup and carefully drew her sister into the circle of her arms.

  “Oh, honey, don’t cry.”

  “I thought he’d at least call. Maybe I’m being punished somehow. Maybe it’s because of how I treated Manuel.”

  “Stop it right now.” Mariel pushed back and looked her sister in the eye. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. Nobody is being punished for anything. Do you hear me, Paige?”

  “It’s just that I want an explanation. So I’m making one up.”

  Mariel picked up her cup and
turned to look out the window at the golden chardonnay vineyard below. She checked her watch and shook her head.

  “Yikes! I promised to take some clothes over to Mama for the rummage sale tomorrow after church. I have to go.” She turned and faced Paige, sitting calmly now on the couch, drinking her tea. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I think so. These bouts of self-pity can’t last. Maybe I’ll get over them soon.”

  “You will, probably sooner than you think.”

  Mariel winked and went off into the bedroom. She came out with a bulging sack and a small suitcase and stopped to put her cup in the sink.

  “I’ll be back later. We’ll go to the winery and do the finishing touches on the party. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Mariel closed the door, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts.

  …

  Jake pulled to the side of the road and got out his phone. Punching the map app, he studied the diagram. Damn. He missed the road and would have to go back a mile. Mariel said it was hard to find, and now he was starting to believe her. So much for distracted driving.

  The doctor had cleared him for the trip, but Jake wondered if he was having a relapse. His palms were sweaty, and he thought he might have a fever. It couldn’t be the fact that he was going to see Paige, the woman he had thought about constantly for the past six weeks.

  He found his turn and entered the driveway, right by the mailboxes as instructed. Stopping outside the one-story unit, he shed his coat and tie, squared his shoulders, and leaped out of the car. Would she be glad to see him? Would she slam the door in his face because he had sent her away after she poured out her heart to him? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was here and he was going to take her in his arms and kiss her until she begged him to stop.

  …

  A car door slammed outside. Mariel must have forgotten something. The doorbell? The door wasn’t locked, was it?

  She got up off the couch and opened the door.