Page 64 of Rainshadow Road

“I like Jefferson. He was a big patron of viticulture.”

“Did he have a vineyard?”

“Yes, at Monticello. But he was more of an experimenter than a serious grape grower. He was trying to grow European vines—vinifera—which produced amazing wine in places like France or Italy. But the vinifera couldn’t handle the weather, disease, and pests in the New World.”

Clearly he was a man who loved what he did. To understand him fully, Lucy thought, you would have to learn about his work, why it meant so much to him, what the challenges were. “I wish I could walk through the vineyard with you,” she said wistfully. “It looks beautiful from here.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you outside to see something special.”

“What is it?”

“A mysterious vine.”

Lucy regarded him with a perplexed smile. “What makes it mysterious?”

“I found it on the property a couple of years ago, growing on an easement that was about to be plowed up for a road project. Transplanting a vine that size and age was a tricky proposition. So I asked Kevin to help me with it. We used tree spades to get as much of the root-ball as possible, and we moved it to the vineyard. It survived the transplant, but I’m still working to get it healthy.”

“What kind of grapes does it produce?”

“That’s the interesting part. I’ve got a guy at the WSU land grant working on identifying it, and so far he hasn’t been able to come up with anything. We’ve sent samples and pictures to a couple of ampelography experts in Washington and California—it’s not on record. Most likely it’s a wild hybrid that happened from natural cross-pollination.”

“Is that rare?”

“Very.”

“Do you think it will make a good wine?”

“Probably not,” he said, and laughed.

“Then why have you gone to so much trouble?”

“Because you never know. The grapes might turn out to reveal some attributes of the wine that you never expected. Something that expresses this place more perfectly than anything you could have planned. You have to…”

As Sam paused, searching for the right phrase, Lucy said softly, “You have to take a leap of faith.”

Sam gave her an arrested glance. “Yes.”

Lucy understood all too well. There were times in life when you had to take a risk that might end in failure. Because otherwise you would be haunted by what you hadn’t done… the paths you hadn’t taken, the things you hadn’t experienced.

***

After Sam had taken care of Renfield, he worked in the vineyard for an hour and went to check on Lucy, who had fallen asleep on the sofa. He stood in the doorway, his gaze tracing slowly along the length of her body. There was something extraordinary about Lucy, a delicate, almost mythical quality. Like a figure from a painting… Antiope, or Ophelia dreaming. Her dark hair trailed in ribbons across the pale green velvet, her skin as pale as night-blooming lilies. Dust motes glittered in a constellation in the sunlit air above her.

Sam was fascinated by Lucy’s mixture of vulnerability and strength. He wanted to know her secrets, the things a woman would reveal only to a lover. And that was nothing short of alarming. He’d never had such thoughts before. But if it took the last ounce of decency he possessed, he would leave her alone.

Lucy stirred and yawned. Her eyes opened to regard him in momentary confusion, heavy lashes shadowing the drowsy depths of green. “I was dreaming,” she said in a sleep-colored voice.

Sam went to her, unable to resist reaching down to play with a lock of her hair. “What about?”

“I was here. Someone was showing me around… it was the house the way it used to be.”

“Was I the one with you?”

“No. It was a man I’ve never met.”

Sam smiled slightly, releasing the lock of hair. “I don’t know if I like you hanging out with another guy in my house.”

“He lived here a long time ago. His clothes were… old-fashioned.”

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