Sweeter Than Wine (50 page)

She loves me! Siegfried's heart jolted with happiness. If she wanted him
back, he would go to her. He would follow her anywhere, do anything for her. She
was the home he longed to return to.

He reached for her hand, and the brightness increased, until his family--
Vater, Mutti, Ernst, Opa Roye, and Another he did not notice before--were lost to
sight. But their happiness remained with him, in him, an honor and a glory he
would keep, and return, forever.

I will bring Alice to meet them someday, he thought. Mutti will like her.

* * *

Siegfried opened his eyes to a room almost as bright as where he had just
been. "Ah-lees," he croaked, tasting the salty-sweet moisture of her tears on his
lips, a sacrament of love.

He willed his vision to clear, and saw the priest reverently kissing his narrow
purple stole.

"God be thanked! He has granted us a miracle!" Father Byrne said, jubilant.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, my son,"

With an effort, Siegfried turned his head, seeking Alice.

There was a well-dressed woman, blonde hair bobbed under a close-fitting
hat. Her face was familiar. She was the woman in his...dream. Like--Alice. Her
mother? She supported a sobbing Oma Tati.

But Alice was kneeling at his left side, smiling tremulously at him, her whole
heart shining in her eyes. "Ah-lees," he said, smiling too. He closed his eyes and
slept again, a sleep of healing rather than escape.

* * *

Siegfried awoke at twilight to find Alice still sitting at his bedside. He struggled
to push himself upright. He needed to tell her something very important, but when
he tried to speak, only a coughing spell emerged.

Alice stooped to brace her arm behind his back, and held a glass of water to
his lips. He drank eagerly, feeling the brush of her mouth against his temple. When
he finished, he rested for a while, readying himself to try to talk again.

"Ah-lees, mein Herz," he squeezed out before he had to cough some more.
"Are you all right? Our baby?"

"The baby's well. It kicked me! And I'm just fine--now," Alice said, joyfully. "You
saved our lives, you know. How are you feeling?"

"Like I have been through the crusher-destemmer."

She gave a watery chuckle. "Siegfried, you were dying, We thought you were
dead!"

"I thought so, too." The memory filled him, so that he felt curiously light and at
peace. He could not speak of it, only hold Alice's hand until he could master
himself. "I heard you say that you--love me."

She blushed, the color rising under her fair skin like the most beautiful of
sunrises. She did not admit it--out loud, and he knew too well what prevented her.
Releasing his hand, she began to pleat the bedsheet with nervous fingers. "Your
grandmother threatened to take the baby away from me if you--didn't
recover."

"Why would she do such a thing?" How dared she?

"Because of my past. Even you asked me--if I'd been a...you know," Alice
whispered. "And, afterwards, you moved out of our bedroom." Now anger
smoldered in the back of her eyes.

It took all his strength to recapture her hand and hold onto it for dear life.
"Schatz, I was wrong to let you think I believed you when you said--" His fragile
voice dissolved in a torrent of coughing, and he fought for breath. "I have been a
terrible coward. I could not tell you about my own lie because I knew you would
want me to go away."

"That's what Mr. Bundschu said--"

"I am so sorry. I promise, I will never lie to you, or leave you, again. Can you
forgive me?"

"I already have," she said, softly, her eyes shining with that familiar, glorious
light. "But--"

He raised his eyebrows in question. His heart sank at the determined set of
her lips. "But?"

She looked away from him, over her shoulder as her mother came into the
room. Siegfried wished that Alice's brilliant welcoming smile could be directed at
him, too.

"How's our Lazarus doing?" Alice's mother examined him closely, her gaze
assessing but not unfriendly.

"I am well, thank you." He stretched his burned mouth into a painful smile, and
gave Alice a significant look.

"Oh--um," she said, blushing again. She raised her chin. "Siegfried, this is my
mother, Florence O'Reilly. And Mama, this is my husband, Siegfried
Rodernwiller."

"Is that how you pronounce it? It sure looks different when you read it in the
newspaper." Alice's mother nodded to Siegfried, and winked.

"I am very pleased to meet you," he said, sincerely. "I am very fortunate to
have married your daughter."

"You do know it's all gone? The house, the winery, the wine, everything. You
love Alice even if Montclair doesn't come with it?"

"Mama!" hissed Alice, turning red, at the same time Siegfried answered, "Of
course!"

Florence's eyes narrowed as she studied Siegfried.

He felt himself weighed and found wanting, so he sat up a little straighter,
though the abused muscles in his back and shoulders protested. "I am sorry to
hear Montclair is gone," he spoke from the heart. "But I was an utter fool to think
that anything was more important than my wife."

"Alice's lawyer says she owns Montclair free and clear. You got no claim on it,
even if you did marry her."

Siegfried remembered that, when he first arrived in California, owning a
vineyard had been the most important thing to him. Now he knew better. He turned
to Alice. "Mein Leben. You are my life. My home is where you are. We may not
have a house, but I will gladly live in a tent if you will give me another chance to be
your husband. Ah-lees, will you take me back?" As she hesitated, he added,
"Please?"

Alice took a deep breath, and looked straight at him. "I'm tired of pretending
that I don't have a family." She gave her mother a swift, apologetic smile. "Of
hiding the truth about my past, of worrying what people will think."

"Of course, Ah-lees." She was going to give him another chance! He was
intoxicated with joy, floating on champagne bubbles. "I love you just the way you
are. And as for your mother--Mrs. O'Reilly--" he addressed her. "That seems very
formal. May I call you 'Mother'?"

"Honey, you can call me anything you like. If you treat my baby girl right."
Florence grinned.

Alice brought his hand to her cheek and kissed his fingers. He felt her tears on
the back of his hand as she said, "I do love you. And I have good news about the
crop--"

"Not now. Now you kiss me." He touched her cheek as her lips sought his. The
taste of her tears was replaced by the warm flavor of her kisses, hesitant at first,
then fierce, as she flung her arms around him.

He was truly home, at last, and forever.

Montclair, Saturday, April 17, 1920

Spring sunshine lay soft over Sonoma's rolling green hills, and wild mustard
bloomed in yellow profusion between the rows of newly-leafed vines in Montclair's
vineyards. Signs of construction marred the pristine beauty: churned-up mud, drifts
of sawdust, and stacks of lumber outside the open wooden frame of an incomplete
house.

Parked cars lined the long drive and there were over a hundred people
occupying the construction site. Men stood in small groups, defying Prohibition
with full glasses, and many women and children sat on picnic blankets which had
been spread on the soft green grass.

"That's our house," Alice said, pointing. "Well, it's going to
be
our
house." Baby Elizabeth bounced excitedly, then her gurgle turned demanding.

Alice slipped away to the foreman's cottage she and Siegfried had been
occupying. She had just finished feeding her daughter and buttoning up her blouse
when Maria dashed down the hallway and slammed the bathroom door.

Alice smiled and called, "I remember how that feels!"

"Only three months to go!" Maria said happily when she emerged a few
moments later. "At least I'm not confined to bed." She patted the curve of her belly.
"And he's still growing."

"I'm so glad you could make it," Alice said as they walked back together
toward the party.

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world. Let me know if you need help with
anything."

"Absolutely not! You're here as a guest, Mrs. Roye!" Alice said, then spoiled
the effect by giggling. They hugged each other, then Maria was carried off by
friends who hadn't seen much of her since she had married Hugh and moved to
Healdsburg.

Alice surveyed the long trestle table set up in the front yard with a hostess'
assessing gaze. It was covered with platters of food: cold fried chicken; deviled
eggs; sliced cheeses; potato, macaroni and green salads; breads of all
descriptions; and meatballs. Flanking the table were two large barrels, one filled
with homemade wine and the other with home-brewed beer.

"Do you fear our guests will starve?" Siegfried came up behind Alice and
nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Not today, they won't." She shivered pleasurably, shifted Bethie to her hip,
and turned to kiss him thoroughly.

"Your mother is here," Siegfried said, when she let him up for air. "She wants
to see the baby."

"I'd better go," Alice said, but she stood on tip-toes to give him another quick
kiss.

A welcoming smile blossomed on her face as she walked quickly to the gate
beneath the palm trees, where her mother's sleek car stood. "Mama! I'm so glad
you could make it."

"Alice honey, I'm sorry I'm late. I missed the ten o'clock ferry." Florence,
elegant in a beige linen traveling dress, reached out to stroke the curve of Bethie's
cheek with the back of her finger. "Oooh, and look who's grown!"

She had spent several weeks at Montclair last month, helping Alice after
Bethie's birth. Now Florence took up the baby with experienced hands. "What a
precious!" She held her granddaughter tenderly and smiled at Siegfried, who had
placed a proprietary hand on his wife's shoulder. "She looks just like her
daddy."

"And her great-grandfather," Hugh commented as he strolled up. "She's a
Roye, all right."

"Thank you for coming today, Mother," Siegfried said to Florence. "Have you
met my cousin, Hugh Roye?"

"We're acquainted," Florence replied, with a wink at Hugh. "It's been many
years, though. I almost didn't recognize you."

Hugh turned almost purple with embarrassment. "I'm married now," he
blurted.

"How nice for you," Florence said, demurely. "I met your wife when Bethie was
born. Maria is a very nice girl. I hope you're taking good care of her."

Alice realized where Hugh must have known her mother from, and swallowed
her horrified laughter with an effort. "Come and meet my neighbors, Mama. The
Livernash sisters particularly wanted to meet you. Hugh, will you excuse us?"

She walked away with her chuckling mother, leaving Siegfried alone with his
cousin.

"This is a wonderful celebration," Hugh said hastily. "Tell me again why you're
doing it?"

"The
Richtsfest
is an old German custom, to honor the builders of a
house and wish its family good fortune," Siegfried explained, filling Hugh's glass
with a 1906-vintage Montclair claret. "As far as I am concerned, it is a good excuse
to have a party."

"Any excuse is a good excuse." Hugh took a sip of the wine, and smiled
beatifically. "Aaahhh. Grandpa had a way with wine."

"And you have a way with selling it," Siegfried toasted him. "To our
partnership, and our contract with the Rosenbergs!"

Hugh swallowed again and said, "Speaking of good fortune, not only will we be
able to sell kosher wine to the New York market, but I got the response on our
application yesterday." He smiled, holding his glass out for another measure.

"We may sell medicinal champagne?" At Hugh's nod, Siegfried wanted to jump
for joy and dance with all his neighbors. He settled for grabbing Hugh's hand and
shaking it enthusiastically. "That is wonderful news! Alice will be so pleased!" Pinot
Noir made an excellent long-lived red, but it made even better white
champagne.

"We'll have Paul Masson for competition," Hugh warned, "but I think we can
make a profit."

"And Montclair remains a winery, as
Opa
Roye wished."

It had been a gamble, buying cooperage--only the best--from winemakers who
were getting out of the business. And Hugh had managed to pick up equipment
some fellows were giving away.

Siegfried looked up at the completely rebuilt winery at the crest of the hill. This
fall, he would make wine again. He would not have to follow his harvest pickers
with tractors, tearing out his vines, as many other wine growers had done.

"Have you heard from Tati?" Hugh turned the glass around in his fingers. "I
thought you mentioned she would be here."

"She will not talk to you?" Siegfried shook his head sadly. "What a stubborn
old--"

"Roye," Hugh finished.

"She is a foolish old woman, Hugh. She did telephone this morning and
apologize that she would be late. Something about her 'old bones.' Perhaps you
will have another chance to--"

"I don't think she'll ever change. At least, after hearing Alice tell her side of the
story, I understand
why
."

"Well, I hope, for her sake, that she will apologize to you today," Siegfried said,
slapping Hugh on the back in comradely fashion.

Hugh gave a short laugh. "I'm glad Alice accepted
my
apology. Maria
would have had me sleeping on the sofa forever, otherwise."

Siegfried looked for Alice and saw her talking and laughing with her neighbors.
Bethie was safely asleep on Florence's shoulder, and Maria was smoothing the
baby's thin, strawberry blonde hair. He smiled at Hugh and lifted the glass in his
hand. "We are so fortunate."

Hugh was about to agree when they were interrupted by a shout from
above.

Henry Behrens, the master carpenter for the new house, had climbed into
position. He waved his arm, and Siegfried and Hugh went to the cable looped over
the rooftree. They pulled steadily and a fir wreath rose slowly above the gathered
guests, many of whom called encouragement and advice. Alice and Maria came to
stand near as the garland was hoisted onto the long beam.