Sweeter Than Wine (38 page)

She put down the burden in her arms, reached into a wooden case partially
concealed by a tablecloth, and retrieved one last bottle of the unmarked vintage.
Siegfried had earlier pronounced it very good, but Alice had been too keyed up to
do more than take a sip or two. She had clutched her one glass for the remainder
of the reception, the champagne growing tepid and flat as the hours passed.

Siegfried accepted the bottle. "We thank you," he said with grave formality.
"For everything." He gave Mrs. Breitenbach one of his sweet smiles, lifted her
hand, and kissed it.

Mrs. Breitenbach turned pink. "Go, go! Mr. Breitenbach and I will take care of
the rest here."

She picked up her burden again, and continued out the door. Maria, just
entering the building, stepped aside and let Mrs. Breitenbach pass through the
door first. Then she hurried over to Siegfried and Alice.

"We are about to leave. Where is Peter?" Siegfried asked curtly.

"Mr. R., he's out back. He had too much to drink. Again," Maria reported. "He
doesn't usually--" she began to add, defensively, at Siegfried's disapproving scowl.
Then she stopped, her shoulders slumping.

Siegfried gave Alice a sideways glance, not quite meeting her eyes. "Please
excuse me." Then he turned to Maria, and said in a resigned tone of voice. "You
had better show me where he is."

It was nearly dark by the time Siegfried managed to partially revive Peter, who
had passed out near the necessary facilities. Maria insisted on riding in the bed of
the Model-T with her inebriated husband, leaving Alice to gather up her silk skirts
and climb into the passenger seat.

Siegfried drove the bumping, rattling truck back to Montclair without
speaking.

The silhouette of his profile was stern in the faint twilight, as he gazed out at
the road and the dark shapes of the passing bushes and trees. "What's wrong?"
she asked, when the silence grew too heavy.

"Nothing." His voice was low, and a little husky.

Back at Montclair, Alice staggered wearily upstairs to her bedroom and slipped
out of her high-heeled pumps with a moan. Siegfried had not said a word to her
since their brief exchange on the drive home.

But then again, it had been a long and exhausting day for both of them, Alice
reassured herself.

"Will you unbutton me?" she asked, presenting her back with its long row of
tiny buttons to him.

He drew close, and she felt a series of slight tugs, followed by a sudden give in
the fabric around her bosom and waist. She arched her neck ever-so-slightly in
anticipation of the kiss she knew he would place there, as he always did when
helping her with her buttons.

But he didn't kiss her. Nor did he place an affectionate hand on the curve of
her hip when he reached the last button at the base of her spine.

"There." She felt him move away, and a second later, heard him open the
wardrobe door.

"Thank you," she said timidly, glancing over her shoulder as he hung up his
suit jacket.

"
Macht nichts
," he replied dismissively, without looking at her, occupied
with hanging up his clothes.

Alice slipped the borrowed wedding gown off her shoulders, carefully stepped
out of it, then hung it in the wardrobe. Siegfried moved away from her as she did
so, and occupied himself with laying out his pajamas. Alice suppressed her hurt
feelings as she continued undressing.
He's tired,
she told herself, trying to
make herself believe it. Since his public proposal, even when he had been
exhausted, Siegfried had always managed at least a quick cuddle before falling
asleep.

He was moving very stiffly, his usual easy movements gone slow and
mechanical. As she watched, he stepped out of his trousers, the long muscles in
his legs flexing. He folded the dark wool along the knife-crease before hanging the
pants up next to his jacket. He did not lift his head to look at her when she rolled
down her silk stockings and stood there, clad only in her slip.

Alice felt the air in the bedroom darken with unspoken tension, and she
wondered what was wrong. Snatching her nightgown off the bed, she went down
the hall to wash her face.

She emerged from the bathroom some time later, hoping that Siegfried was
waiting to pounce on her as soon she slid between the sheets. It was their
wedding night, after all. Alice hesitated a moment outside her bedroom door,
feeling a certain guilty excitement at the prospect.

But when she entered the bedroom, the lights were already turned off.
Siegfried was lying on his side of the bed, his body turned away from her.

He's as tired as I am
, she told herself, yet again. But he had not even
met her eyes since the wedding reception. The sick certainty that something awful
had happened began to constrict her chest.

"Good night, Siegfried," she murmured as she climbed into the bed. She was
surprised further when he ignored her. She knew he was not asleep yet. She had
shared a bed with him long enough now to recognize the relaxed sprawl of his
limbs and the deep, gentle breathing that marked his genuine slumber. Tension
radiated from his too-straight back, encased like a mummy in sheet and blanket
despite the stifling summer heat.

Alice stared miserably up at the dark ceiling. Why was he acting this way?

She had grown accustomed to his open affection. She liked the way that
Siegfried treated her, as if she were irresistible. Alice threw back her sheet in a
vain attempt to circulate some cooler air to her sticky skin, and thought back over
the last three weeks: Siegfried sneaking up on her in the hallway for a quick but
fervent embrace before mealtimes; a morning kiss on the cheek that ended with
him nuzzling the sensitive nape of her neck; his slow, sensual worship of her
breasts before he made love to her at night.

Had she done something to offend him? Alice cast her mind through the day's
events. He had been his usual easygoing, calm self at the wedding, a pillar of
strength. It wasn't until after the reception that she felt shut out...after she had
seen him in a serious discussion with Tati.

Oh, no
. A cold vise closed around her lower belly, and she cupped a
protective hand over the slight swell there, shielding her baby from the sudden
surge of dread.

What did Tati tell him? And why?
She had done everything Tati had
asked of her, even made her marriage to Siegfried a permanent one.
Why
would she betray me?

* * *

When Alice awoke, Siegfried was already gone, but he had left evidence of his
passing: Bill's dressing gown thrown over the chair, spatters of shaving soap on
the mirror in the bathroom, and red-dotted swabs of cotton in the
wastebasket.

This untidiness was so unlike him! She finally caught up with him in the
kitchen. He was dressed for Mass, and the shaving cuts stood out vividly against
his fatigue-pale face.

Maria and Peter were nowhere to be seen. Siegfried said without meeting her
eyes, "Maria will not be joining us this morning. Peter is feeling unwell. I will get the
truck. We will go soon." He left the kitchen.

Alice watched him through the window as he bent stiffly and turned the crank
to start the Ford. He looked as sad as she felt. She suddenly couldn't bear the
constriction in her throat. Yesterday they had pledged sacred vows. Now they
were not even talking.

She hurried to join him, but standing next to him was like standing next to a
pillar of salt. She felt bereft, and anxious.
What did he know?

* * *

Siegfried heard God speaking to him through His instrument, the Mass.

Today's lesson was from the Gospel: "Now while he was at table in his home,
even many tax collectors and sinners came to join Jesus and his disciples at
dinner. But the Pharisees saw this and complained to his disciples, 'What reason
can your master have for eating with tax collectors and sinners?' Overhearing the
remark, he said, 'People who are healthy do not need a doctor; sick people do. Go
off and learn the meaning of the words,
It is mercy I desire, not
sacrifice
!"

Siegfried did not want to be counseled towards mercy and forgiveness. He
wanted to burn with righteous rage. He had been deceived in all that he had
believed about Alice. He had thought her modest, chaste, and of good family. But
none of it was true. His yet-unmet mother-in-law was a whore; his father-in-law
had been a supplier to brothels. As for Alice herself...Siegfried's stomach churned
at the thought. Thank God his father could not know his shame!

He stalked out of the church as soon as the Mass was ended, only to
encounter a knot of gesticulating men, standing on the sidewalk in front of the
church steps, passing a newspaper from hand to hand.

"Not only does he not answer my brother Carl's letter," Walter Bundschu was
saying heatedly, "but he lets Judge Van Fleet in San Francisco go ahead and
declare that Wartime Prohibition is legal. It's going to be enforced! Right before
harvest!"

Irate mutters accompanied this declaration, and somebody passed Siegfried a
copy of Saturday's
Santa Rosa Press Democrat
, which detailed the Federal
judge's decision.

"We can't even make our two hundred gallons of wine for personal use!"
protested another man, reading over Siegfried's shoulder. "That's infamous!"

"That's what Mr. Price said. There's going to be a special meeting of the Grape
Grower's Association on Wednesday," Walter announced. "Everybody needs to be
there."

The man behind Siegfried commented, "That lawyer Bell sure knows how to
call it. Listen to this: 'Wartime prohibition so far as winemaking is concerned, has
been a lie, a subterfuge and a fraud from the beginning. Thank God the right to a
jury survives in this country!' Good thing he's appealing the decision!"

Siegfried finished scanning the article, and passed along the paper,
stunned.

Except for medicinal, religious, and non-beverage uses
, the refrain ran
through his head.
Please God, let La Fontaine answer me soon. It has been
over two months.

"How can they do this to us?" Sullivan wailed. "I'll lose everything!"

"Come to the meeting Wednesday!" Walter repeated. "We'll decide what to do,
together."

Siegfried added his assurances to the mass response. He would be there.

* * *

On the steps, the wives and sisters of the wine-men shared their own anxieties
about the future.

Mrs. Breitenbach said kindly, "It's a blessing that none of this marred your
wedding yesterday, Mrs. Rodernwiller. It's such a shame."

"Yes," Alice agreed.

Betty Sullivan, her pregnancy now visibly advanced, said, "But it was too bad
that your husband and his cousin had that fight. Hugh Roye, he's a
troublemaker."

Alice controlled her first reaction to this news, and waited for Mrs.
Breitenbach's question: "What did Hugh do?"

Only her question was directed at Alice, not at Betty. "I don't know," Alice had
to admit.

"You mean your husband didn't tell you all about it?" Betty asked
innocently.

"I--no, we didn't discuss it." Alice felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach grow.
What would they have to fight about, except her? So Siegfried's sudden coldness
wasn't Tati's fault after all, but Hugh's.
Oh, God, help me
.

"Well, I'm sure you had other things on your mind," Mrs. Breitenbach said,
smiling broadly.

"We all have something else on our minds," Betty said, watching the men.

* * *

Back at Montclair, Siegfried grunted an acknowledgment when Alice placed a
plate of bacon and eggs before him, but when she brought out the paper and
prepared to read from it as usual, he said curtly, "I have already heard the
news."

She read to herself the account of their wedding, with its sanitized account of
her origins. The article ended with, "All had a good time," which was patently false,
if Betty Sullivan was to be believed.

She wondered if Siegfried knew the truth about her? If Hugh had told him
whole ugly story... She was afraid to ask, so she hid behind the paper, glad of
Siegfried's silence.

* * *

That night, despite the exhaustion of an afternoon spent laboring in the heat,
Siegfried lay awake, miserably aware of Alice sleeping a few inches away.

She stirred, dreaming, and rolled towards him with an unintelligible murmur,
reaching out to slide her hand across his bare chest.

Siegfried clenched his teeth until his jaw muscles hurt, then deliberately picked
up her hand and moved it away.

He could not bear her touch until he had proven to himself that Hugh was
lying. Until he knew in his own heart that Alice was not a whore.

Siegfried, embraced by shadows, remembered all that Hugh had said and all
that Tati had so unconvincingly denied. He had never heard a person other than
Hugh speak ill of Alice, in this small town where everyone knew everyone else's
business. The Bundschus, the Duhrings, the Breitenbachs, the Sullivans, they all
accepted Alice for what she claimed to be.

And yet...and yet...all of the other evidence against Alice damned her: her
refusal to invite her relatives to the wedding, her reliance on those bloodless
pamphlets, her shocking inventiveness after he had begged her to be wicked for
him. Siegfried remembered the occasions when Alice had claimed to go shopping
in San Francisco all day, only to return empty-handed. There had always been a
miraculous infusion of money the day after: money to hire cleaning crews for the
winery, money to replace ruined cooperage...

What had she actually been doing in the City to obtain so much money?

And then, Alice had become pregnant after
one night
with him. Was
such a thing possible?

Siegfried felt his heart harden into a frozen lump as he remembered how she
had vomited the night they first made love. Didn't women do that in the early
stages of pregnancy? Had she already been expecting before they consummated
their marriage?