Page 93 of Before We Say Goodbye
Considering Rebecca was always right, Otis did just that. It was June, and the vines were alive and well, working their way toward pushing out grapes. The whole valley was stunning. He pulled back the gate and descended the hill into Carmine’s oasis.
Otis heard the whisper as always, that ever-present energy that came only when one was so incredibly connected to his place. Otis thought he’d found it on some level on his own land, but Carmine would always be the master.
The old man sat at a table in the shade, drinking a bottle of white and smoking a cigarette. He looked like he’d aged a decade. His dog, Antonio, sat at his feet. “There he is, the Grape Messiah.”
Otis knelt and let Antonio lick his hand. Carmine kicked out a smile. “I remember the first time you came to see me. When was that? Twenty years ago?”
“Right about that.”
Carmine sucked in smoke and let it out with another grin. “Such a shy kid, but you had that look in your eye. You’ve really done it now, haven’t you? What’d you pull up in? A BMW?”
“Just the work truck.”
“I’m giving you a hard time.” With great effort, he pushed up from the table. They embraced, and Otis could feel how weak his mentor had become. “It’s good to see you, Otis. How’s the family?”
“They’re well, you know. Mike’s doing better, got his first girlfriend. She’s been good for him. He’s fourteen now. Can you believe that? Cam’s loving Colorado. And Bec’s punching above her weight, trying to keep the farm straight. Keep me straight.”
Carmine sat back down. “I heard you picked in July last year.” His grin was all-knowing, and they shared a chuckle.
“There was more to it than that.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. You’re a celebrity now. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me about the great Otis Till. You’ve got what it takes, that’s for sure.”
“Until Lloyd takes it away.”
Carmine poured Otis a glass. “Yeah, what are you going to do? He’s not one I’d like to pick a fight with.”
“He’s about to win, one way or another.”
“So let him. There’s more than one good piece of land out here.”
Otis sat and took a long sip of an absolutely mesmerizing chardonnay, a bottling with stunning vibrancy. “Yeah, but I’m ... I’m tired. I don’t want to start over. We raised our boys there. Planted and replanted so many of those vines. It’s where I started to find that whisper, you know.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Imagine if you had to say goodbye to this place,” Otis said.
“I am saying goodbye.” Carmine looked at the closest vineyard block, a hodgepodge of varieties that had made some of the best and truest wines Otis had ever tasted. “I know you see it. Blackberry bushes taking over, more oak trees coming right out of the rows. The vineyards overgrown and starting to swallow me. I suppose I’ll die doing this thing, pulled right back into the earth, swallowed up by my terroir.”
A pain hit Otis, thinking about how he hadn’t been there for Carmine since the whole mess with Heartbreak. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. I’ve been busy. Not only lately but for years.”
Carmine stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray full of butts. “Don’t worry about me, but it is nice to see you. How are the wines? How’s this early pick?” Another grin came. He clearly enjoyed what Otis had done.
“It’s drinkable.”
He slapped his leg. “You son of a bitch. You fell in love with her, didn’t you, the wine life? That’s the only way. You have clusters swinging between your legs,ragazzo. Whatever happens, don’t let it eat you up. You fought the good fight.”
Otis stared into the wine, scents of apricot and green apple wafting up out of the glass. “Would you sell if you were me?”
“Take the money and run? I might. Some people you can’t fight. Lloyd Bramhall’s one of them.”
“I wonder if I ought to step away from wine. We’ll have some money. It’s been a lot, all-consuming. Maybe it would be better that way.”
Carmine lit up another one, contributing with each puff to the yellow of his beard. “I suspect a man knows when he’s farmed his last vintage. Is that how you feel?”
Otis took a moment to ponder the question. “Not by a long shot. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Go back to where it all began. Find the fun again. Somewhere along the line you got pulled in by distractions. Who could blame you? The money you’ve made doesn’t come by most winemakers. You read the trends. Broke some hearts with that Heartbreaker.”
