Page 38 of Before We Say Goodbye
“And I haven’t even tasted wines like this. My God, Bec. We’re on holy ground.”
Thanks to Lloyd, they had an afternoon appointment with a five-hundred-year-old winery. In the depths of a musty cellar underneath the town, as Camden lay on the floor drawing in a coloring book, a German man with shaggy hair and a plaid scarf guided them through a lineup of rieslings. The first few vintages were crisp and delightfulquaffers, but nothing that sent Otis reeling.
Then the man pulled corks on older wines from the early sixties that blew Otis’s and Rebecca’s minds. It was as if riesling slept for the first decade before coming alive and running in a million different directions. Wines from grapes grown only meters apart tasted like they’d come from different parts of the world.
“This is how the riesling works,” their host explained in stilted English. “The wine needs many years for it to find its way.”
“Just like us,” Rebecca murmured.
Otis stared into the golden hues of a ’61. “I have never understood wine till this day.”
Rebecca wiped Otis’s eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
“My whole world has changed. It’s flipping fruit juice, Bec, but it means so much to me. Being here. These wines. This town. The history. They were making—no,growingwines herefive hundredyears ago on those unbelievably steep slopes.” Otis stuffed his nose back into the glass and spoke in reverent whispers. “I’m eager to get back to California and tap in, but another part of me wonders why I would even try. How can we ever find a piece of land back home that would be worth devoting our lives to?” He looked at the dusty racks of wines dating back hundreds of years and sighed.
“The how doesn’t matter. All we have to do is will it.”
“Will it? Are we back to this Seth thing again? You and Sparrow really need to settle yourselves.”
Sparrow and Rebecca had become best friends, despite the decade that stood between them, and Sparrow had pulled Rebecca down into awormhole of New Age thought. They’d both recently read a book calledSeth Speaks, which supposedly captured the wisdom of a spirit named Seth who had written a book through a channeler named Jane Roberts.
Otis thought that the two women might have eaten too many magic mushrooms, but a small part of him—an infinitesimal part—wondered whether perhaps he was missing out on something. The way Bec spoke lately, she’d changed. It was like she’d stepped into herself, tapping into a power of which she hadn’t been aware.
Lately, she and Sparrow had been talking about manifestation. Apparently Seth talked about how mind created matter, that humans, either intentionally or unintentionally, drew their own reality as if they were sketch artists.
“Okay, magic genie woman,” Otis said, his sarcasm thicker than the Beerenauslese they were about to try, “I want fifty acres on a hillside in Sonoma County. A place near a river with centennial vines parked on a south-facing slope.”
Rebecca gestured to his wine, the ’61. “Smell that again.”
He did so.
“Wake up and smell the riesling, my love. There’s no room for doubt right now.”
“Wake up and smell the riesling,” Otis muttered. “That’s a bumper sticker waiting to happen.”
Back at the hotel, Bec jammed a metal rod into the spokes of Otis’s peaceful evening. Camden slept in a crib inside the cramped room, and the adults sat out on the balcony in the chilly night air, looking out over the lights of Bernkastel-Kues, a place barely touched by modernity. The stars burst overhead.
“I want another baby.”
Otis had taken a sip of Spätburgunder and coughed it out onto his shirt. “Another baby?” He wiped the pinot noir from his chin. “So nowwe’re buying land and wanting another baby? When are we winning the lottery?”
“I’ve always known we’re having two.” Her playful side took over. “What’s the problem? Have you lost your attraction to me?”
Otis pulled her onto his lap. “Moi? Lost my attraction to you? I’d put a poster of you on my wall.”
She turned and whispered over her shoulder, “Then take me, Otis Till.”
“Right now?”
“Why not?”
“Camden, for one.”
“He’s asleep.”
“Yeah, but ... we’re kind of on display up here.” He gestured toward the people wandering the street four stories down.
“Fine, you know what? I’ll go down to the bar and see if there are any handsome German men who might be more interested.” She popped open a button on her blouse, then another. “Catch you later.”
