Page 15 of Vineyard Dreams

With each passing second, Elle’s emotions mirrored Lena’s – the suffocating fear, the desperate need to escape, the overwhelming sense of being trapped. In that moment, Elle understood with startling clarity why Harper had experienced such a visceral reaction in the wine cellar.

Later, Elle watched as Lena’s activism gained momentum, her impassioned speeches and unyielding determination inspiring a growing movement. The love between Lena and Clara remained a constant despite all of the challenges they faced.

But danger always loomed, and Elle’s heart raced as she witnessed the escalating threats against Lena, the hateful slurs hurled at her during rallies. The tension built to a crescendo, and a loud noise shattered the stillness of the theater, causing Elle to jump in her seat.

The scene unfolded in horrifying detail. Masked men burst into Lena and Clara’s home in the middle of the night. Glass shattered. Furniture was overturned, and Clara’s screamspierced the air. Elle felt sick to her stomach as the scene unfolded.

But nothing could have prepared Elle for what followed.

In the chaos of the attack, Clara fell, her body crumpling to the ground as the men scrambled out the door with the sounds of sirens in the distance. Lena rushed to her side, gathering her in her arms as crimson bloomed across Clara’s shirt. Elle watched, transfixed, as Lena cradled her love, her anguished cries reverberating through the theater.

Clara’s head lolled against Lena’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed. Blood seeped between Lena’s fingers as she desperately tried to stem the flow, her tears mingling with the scarlet stains. Elle’s heart shattered, the raw agony of the moment searing itself into her memory.

Lena’s sobs filled the air, a primal, guttural sound that spoke of a pain beyond words. She rocked Clara’s lifeless body, her fingers tangling in her hair, her lips pressing against her cooling skin. The camera lingered on the scene, unflinching in its portrayal of the depths of Lena’s grief.

Elle sat motionless, her own tears flowing freely. The brutality of the moment, the senseless cruelty that had ripped Clara from Lena’s arms, left her reeling. She couldn’t look away.

As Lena’s world crumbled, so too did Elle’s composure. The reality of the sacrifices made, the lives lost in the fight for equality, hit her hard in that moment. Elle’s heart ached for Lena, for the love she had lost.

The final scenes of the movie had followed the rest of Lena’s short life, and the words on the screen now alongside a picture of Lena brought fresh tears.

Lena Matthews spent all of her life, fighting for her love to be recognized as equal, as worthy of celebration, as worthy of dignity. She knew that oneday it would be. But she never lived to see it. In 1999, Lena died after battling a short illness.

When the credits rolled, Elle remained in her seat, her cheeks stained with tears. The theater emptied around her, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her mind was reeling from the powerful story she had just witnessed, the raw emotions that Harper had so masterfully portrayed on screen.

Elle had never heard of Lena Matthews before she’d watched Harper’s acceptance speech, but now she felt an inexplicable connection to her. The courage and resilience that Lena had displayed in the face of unimaginable adversity had left Elle in awe, and she couldn’t shake the image of Lena cradling Clara’s lifeless body, the anguish etched into every line of her face.

As the last of the credits faded from the screen, Elle finally gathered the strength to stand. She made her way out of the theater, her steps heavy. The cool evening air hit her face as she stepped outside.

Elle climbed into her truck, settling into the driver’s seat. As she sat there, her mind drifted to Harper. The actress’s performance had been nothing short of extraordinary. To inhabit a character like Lena, to delve into the depths of her pain and her love, must have been an emotionally exhausting experience. Elle could only imagine the weight that Harper had carried with her long after the cameras stopped rolling.

It was no wonder that she was struggling to move on.

11

The knock at the door startled Harper, her book slipping from her fingers and thumping on the carpet. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was just past 10 PM. Frowning, she rose from the couch and padded to the window. She pushed the curtain aside, peering out into the darkness. The porch light illuminated a familiar blue truck in her driveway.

What was Elle doing here so late?

Harper made her way to the front door and pulled it open. Elle stood on her porch, but even in the dim lighting, Harper could see that Elle had been crying.

“Elle? What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I know it’s late,” she said in a rush. “I just...” She exhaled as she ran a hand through her hair. “I needed to see you.”

Before Harper could respond, Elle stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around Harper.

Harper stiffened for a moment, taken aback by the suddenness of the embrace. But as Elle’s arms tightened around her, Harper melted into the hug. The warmth of Elle’s bodyseeped through Harper’s thin cotton shirt, and she caught the faint scent of her perfume. Harper’s hands found their way to Elle’s back, settling on her waist as Elle pulled back.

“I... I just saw your movie.” Elle’s voice cracked, her hands lingering on Harper’s shoulders. Tears glistened in her eyes. “The scene where Clara—” She broke off, shaking her head. “God, Harper. The way you captured Lena’s pain, her loss. I felt every moment of it.”

Harper’s throat tightened. She’d lived with Lena’s story for so long, carried the weight of it through months of filming, but seeing Elle’s raw reaction brought it all rushing back.

“Come sit down.” Harper gestured toward the living room, her hand finding the small of Elle’s back. But Elle hesitated at the threshold, running her fingers through her disheveled hair.

“I must look awful,” Elle said, wiping at her cheeks. “I didn’t even stop at home first. I just... I had to come straight here.”

Harper shook her head, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips. The words “you look beautiful” were the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself, swallowing them back. “I’m just glad you’re here,” she said instead. She gestured towards the living room. “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll grab us a bottle of wine.”

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