Page 104 of Before We Say Goodbye
He raised a glass. “I wouldn’t have made it without you, my love. Somehow you brought me back from the abyss. More than a time or two. I hope this next chapter is more about you than me.”
“About that,” she said. “I’ve been thinking the same thing—”
“Now hold on. Let’s not get carried away. I’m not saying that you’re not needed, or that I’m suddenly healed from my inner strife.” He almost said more but held back. “Sorry, okay. Finish, please. What is going on with you?”
She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her fingers atop a knee. Her wise eyes twinkled with excitement as she directed them toward the splash of colors melting into the horizon. “I want to travel.”
Otis seized up. One thing was true for farmers, especially those who had a new farm to tend: Travel is a recipe for disaster. She knew that as well as him.
“Don’t worry,” she said, throwing up a hand decorated with several rings. “I’m not going to pull you away from your new vines. I’m talking about just me. Maybe go to India, or even Bali. I’d love to do a yoga retreat. Or even a silent retreat.”
“A silent retreat?” He said it like she’d suggested they abstain from alcohol for the holidays.
“Where you don’t talk for a week or two.”
“Dear God.”
“It might be good for you, if you wanted to join?”
“You’re, ugh, I . . . that sounds like . . . um.”
She finally let him off the hook. “I’m joking. Of course you’re welcome, but I would assume it sounds like your version of hell.”
Otis breathed a sigh of relief. “Very close to it. All you’d have to do is invite Lloyd and restrict alcohol, and my hell it would be.”
She sat back up, reached for her glass, and took a sip. “You’ve traveled so much for work while I’ve been at home, focusing on the boys. I want to get out and see places. It’s my turn.”
The sheep baaed below; crickets chirped.
“I don’t love hearing that you feel like you’ve been trapped.”
“Not trapped. I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t trade what I’ve done for the world, but I do have things that I want to do. We’ve done Europe plenty, but I want to see more of this world. And not just vineyards, no offense.”
“No offense taken,” he said. “There’s no point in visiting anywhere in the world that doesn’t put wine in the highest regard, but I suppose you’ll have to learn that the hard way,” he said with an annoying grin.
“There is more to life than wine, Otis.”
“I know that,” he said defensively. “Cheese is nearly as paramount ... pork. Don’t get me started.”
She let out one of her famousughs but in a playful way. “Believe it or not, there is more to the world than things that you put into your mouth. What about a surf or ski trip, or even skydiving, something extreme to get the adrenaline going?”
“Deary, my idea of extreme is a seven-hour gastronomic tour through Bologna. Nothing gets the adrenaline going like an all-day culinary romp that starts with a bottle of Pignoletto paired with a chunk of forty-month-aged Parmigiano-Reggiano and a stack of finely shavedprosciutto di parma.” The hair on his arms stood up as he delighted in even the idea of such an adventure.
Bec rolled her eyes, but Otis fought back with an all-knowing chuckle. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, dear one. But again, just as the boys had to learn the hard way, so will you. Go take your trek to Machu Picchu and sleep on the hard ground and eat goat arepas and drink Peruvian lagers. Go sleep in a tent in the jungles of Zimbabwe whilst gurgling fermented elephant urine, then peer through your little binoculars for a leaping gazelle. Or—”
“Here we go,” she said.
“Fine, fine. Just know that while you’re sitting in a hut in Bali munching on bamboo during your silent retreat, you’ll recall our visits to Paris, the exquisite satin sheets of the Hotel d’Angleterre, the selection of Bordeaux at Le Grand Véfour. Or you might recall setting our eyes on the vines of Romanée-Conti for the first time, quite surely our first brush with God. You will know, my dear, that I am sometimes right.”
“I should record you. People should hear your ridiculousness.”
“Isn’t this why you love me?”
She laughed.
He threw up his hands. “What?” With a sigh, he spun his glass. “Fine, let’s return to you. Tonight. No.This yearis about you.”
She paused, likely gauging his sincerity. “It’s nice when your husband asks about you. Kind of rare. Has someone been coaching you?”
