Sweeter Than Wine (49 page)

Hugh was sitting on a simple cot, his head in his hands, his elbows digging
into his knees. He didn't acknowledge her, and perversely, his despair gave her
courage.

"Hugh? I came to thank you."

"For what?" he responded, in a monotone.

"For rescuing me--us--the other night. It was very brave of you."

He shrugged.

"Maria is making a statement to the sheriff right now."

Now he looked up. "Is she all right?" he demanded, hands clenched on the
edge of the cot. He was a wreck, gray-blond stubble thick on his cheeks and puffy
eyes, one of them magnificently blackened.

"She's fine." Alice smiled to see his concern. "She told us what happened. All
of it. Don't you think that you were being foolishly noble to keep silent?"

"Noble? I?" Hugh gave a short, hard laugh. "Don't you know about all the
things I've done?"

"I know about some of them. The sabotage--" She was still angry about that,
despite her best intentions.

Hugh shook his head. "You had something that should have been mine, and
you just wouldn't sell it to me. I never understood that. Why wouldn't you sell
Montclair, Alice? It wasn't like you knew what to do with the winery."

Alice thought of all the lies she'd told Hugh--outright, and by implication.
"You've always known where I came from, Hugh. But, like Tati, you never brought
it up--out in the open, at any rate." She sat down next to him. "I was afraid. I
thought, if I gave up Montclair, I'd have to go back, to live my mother's life."

Hugh looked at her as if she was stupid, or out of her wits. "You would have
been a very wealthy young woman! You could have gone anywhere, done
anything!"

"I wouldn't have been part of the Roye family anymore." Alice did feel stupid at
this point, and close to tears. "That was worth more to me than--"

"Hey--hey, Alice," Hugh said, patting her arm with clumsy sympathy. "I'm sorry.
Please don't cry."

Alice took a deep breath and held it. She saw Hugh's anxious face and started
laughing. She took some more breaths, and finally was able to say, "I also wanted
to tell you that I hired Lee Crabbe as your lawyer--but I don't think you're going to
need him, once Maria finishes with the sheriff."

Hugh's mouth twisted. "How can she ever look at me again? I have her
husband's blood on my hands."

Alice heard the door at the end of the hallway open. "Ask her yourself. Here
she comes."

As Maria walked hesitantly forward, just ahead of the deputy, Hugh leapt up.
His fingers gripped the bars whitely. "Maria?"

Maria's steps quickened, then she was there, her hands covering his, curving
around the bars. "I told Sheriff Albertson the truth!" she exclaimed. "He says they'll
probably drop the charges. They have to let you go!!"

"Oh, Maria," Hugh whispered. She pressed her face through the narrow
opening, and his lips sought hers. Neither of them noticed the deputy opening the
cell door, or Alice leaving, unwilling to intrude on their private happiness a moment
longer.

She meant to keep her mother company until Maria had finished her visit, but
before she got out the door a deputy advised her that Dr. Stillman's call had been
forwarded from Montclair.

She picked up the 'phone with a sick feeling.

The doctor spoke gravely. "I'm very sorry, but your husband has taken a turn
for the worse. I called for Father Byrne. I hope--"

"No. That's fine. I'll be right there," Alice said, calmly, just as if her heart wasn't
crumbling.

Siegfried dying? It can't be true!

The denial beat through her brain as her mother drove to the doctor's
house.

She rushed into the infirmary, not sure whether she believed the report. But
Siegfried lay so still on the bed, and the young priest, white surplice and purple
stole over his black cassock, looked up, unsurprised, at her breathless
entrance.

"Mrs. Rodernwiller. God bless you. I haven't started yet."

Alice followed his slight gesture, noticing the white cloth covering the top of the
bedside table, the crucifix between two lighted candles, the towel, a flat dish of
water, and a flat dish containing cotton balls.

"F-father Byrne," Alice said shakily. "You're giving him Last Rites? But he's
not--he can't be--" Her knees gave way, and she half-fell into the hard chair near
the door. This was worse than any of her nightmares, any of the day terrors that
had ruled her for so long.

The priest came close and comfortingly seized Alice's hand in both his own. "I
know. I know. You must be strong. God willing, he may be healed. Or we will have
done our best to prepare him for his meeting with our Maker."

"There's no reason for him to die! The doctor said his wound wasn't grievous!"
Alice wanted to shout her denial, but the mighty hand squeezing her chest left her
air only to whisper. "He can't die! We...we haven't t-talked since..." Oh, God, if she
started crying now, she would never stop.

And maybe she would never want to. What good was knowing she owned
Montclair? What good was sixty-five dollars a ton for some worthless grapes? She
didn't want any of it without Siegfried.

Father Byrne's handkerchief was huge, and his hand on her shoulder was
warm. At some point, Alice heard her mother come into the room, give a sharp
intake of breath, and ask the Doctor's wife to be sure to call Mrs. Roye.

She felt her mother's hand replace Father Byrne's. "Honey, you gotta let the
priest do his job."

Alice tried to compose herself. She blinked fiercely to bring the room into
focus, dried her eyes, staggered to her feet, and found herself by Siegfried's
side.

His breathing was still ragged. She stroked his cheek, then held his hand,
clasping it tightly until her wedding ring bit into her finger. He didn't respond at
all.

"Father Byrne," she managed to say. "I know you like weddings better, but..."
She tried to smile her readiness, but her lips couldn't hold a shape. She drew up
Siegfried's hand, to stop the trembling of her mouth with the pressure of his
flesh.

He didn't feel her kiss.

She laid his hand down gently, but didn't let it go. "We're ready."

Father Byrne made the sign of the cross, and she echoed him. "Peace to this
house," he began.

"And to all who dwell herein," Alice responded.

The priest blessed the room with holy water, intoning, "Sprinkle me, O Lord,
with hyssop, and I shall be purified; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Our
help is in the name of the Lord."

"Who made heaven and earth." Alice said, praying, You made me too. Make
me whiter than snow, or blacker than soot. I don't care. Just let Siegfried live.

The rich, trained voice of the priest filled the room. "As I enter here with a
sense of my own unworthiness, O Lord Jesus Christ, let abiding happiness enter
with me; may the blessings of God and unmixed joy accompany my visit...Let no
evil spirit gain entrance here. May the angels of peace be present, and may all
harmful discord leave this house."

Alice felt the peace descending on her. She felt her mother's strength behind
her, and turned her head slightly. Her mother stood solemnly, hands clasped
together, eyes tightly closed.

The priest said, "As Mr. Rodernwiller is not conscious, we will recite the
Confession together for him: Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper
Virgini, beato Michaeli archangelo..."

Alice caught up with him, the words from the Mass reverberating through her
as she said them for Siegfried, and for herself. "I have sinned exceedingly in
thought, word, and deed; Through my fault, through my fault, through my most
grievous fault..."

Father Byrne's handkerchief was well used again before he spoke alone once
more: "May almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you
to everlasting life."

"Amen!" agreed Alice with a whole heart, feeling herself forgiven for the first
time in her life.

Extending his right hand over Siegfried and making the sign of the cross,
Father Byrne continued, "...May any power that the devil has over you be utterly
destroyed..." With holy oil on his thumb, the priest made the sign of the cross on
Siegfried's eyelids. "May the Lord forgive you by this holy anointing and his most
loving mercy whatever sins you have committed by the use of your sight. Amen."
He repeated the anointing on Siegfried's ears, nose, lips, hands, and feet,
continuing to recite prayers for forgiveness of each sense and faculty.

"...We implore you, our Redeemer, that by the grace of the Holy Spirit you cure
the illness of this sick man and heal his wounds; forgive his sins, and drive away
from him all pains of mind and body. In your mercy give him health, inward and
outward, so that he may once more be able to take up his work, restored by the
gift of your mercy....look with kindness on your servant Siegfried, who is growing
weak as his body fails. Cherish the soul which you created, so that, purified and
made whole by his sufferings, he may find himself restored by your healing....Be
present in Your kindness as we call upon your holy name...."

* * *

In darkness the demon slipped away, defeated by his victory.

Siegfried, pliant with surrender, found no opposition to hold him back. At
last, he arrived at his destination.

He descended through the long dark tunnel of the train, exiting suddenly
into the station. He blinked at the brilliant light and recognized the clean-swept
platform, the tubs of flowers, the steeply peaked red roofs of the town's houses
against the pale midsummer sky: Schlettstat. He was home again.

Standing on the platform, he looked around. No one else was disembarking
here. He was alone. But somehow, this did not disturb him. He could not feel any
sadness while standing in light as warm and as caressing as this. Siegfried slung
his duffel across his back, feeling strong and curiously free, and strode forward.

There, in the wide cobbled square of the Bahnhofplatz, he saw Mutti, Vater,
Ernst and Opa Roye waiting for him. They were smiling and waving eagerly. Mutti-
-how beautiful she was!--was wearing her favorite hat, wide-brimmed and
decorated with silk roses. The men were in their Sunday best, their hair blazing
gold against stiff white collars and dark jackets. Ernst was holding his favorite toy--
the sailboat Siegfried made when he was twelve. Behind them, Father's Daimler
gleamed, ready to bear them all home to Sunday dinner.

He ran to them.

They surrounded him with their love, even Father, awkward and embarrassed
for something that to Siegfried was a distant memory. Serene and finally at peace,
Siegfried had no wish to remember his sorrows and his failures.

* * *

Father Byrne gave the final blessing, and Alice bent to press a kiss to
Siegfried's lips. To her horror, she heard the labored rasp of his breathing catch,
stop, then start again.

"Oh no, please God, no," she murmured, clutching Siegfried's hand with all her
strength.

Siegfried's breath gave that odd little catch again, then he exhaled in a long,
grateful sigh.

And did not inhale. His chest remained inert, and his face seemed to
relax.

"No!" Alice took Siegfried by the shoulders and shook him, "Damn you!"
Furious, she slapped his face, hard, ignoring Father Byrne's shocked protests.
"You son of a bitch! How can you die and leave me alone? You bastard! You--you-
-" She turned half toward her mother. "Mama! Help me! I don't know anything
worse to call him! Mama--" The sob rose in her throat and stole her breath.

Her mother's arms enfolded her. She accepted their soft consolation for a
moment, shielded from the tremors rearranging the landscape of her soul.

But she had so much left to say to him! She fell to her knees beside the bed,
rested her temple against Siegfried's pillow. Her hand crept up to touch his
eyebrows, his closed eyes. Her fingers felt the faintly smiling, quiet mouth.

"Don't you know how much work there is left to do? Don't you know how empty
my arms will be, without you? Who will make the champagne for our child's
wedding? Who will I read the paper to? Please, God--I forgive you. Everything
you've done. Everything I've done. May God forgive us both....Oh, Siegfried, don't
you know how much I--" Anguish burned hotter than a burning house. "--love
you?"

* * *

In the midst of his family, happy at last, Siegfried heard a sound that
slashed him like shrapnel.

A woman wept.

He felt the sweet kisses of his mother on his forehead. His little brother held
his hand. Opa Roye beamed. His father, shame forgotten, put his arm around
Siegfried's shoulders. The moment was perfect--then it shattered.

Like Orpheus, he glanced back.

Glanced--down?

The bright light was painful, but he saw. Alice was weeping at the bedside
of a burned and blistered corpse. A woman, very like Alice but older, blonde, stood
behind her, crying too.

Alice spoke. "Oh, Siegfried, don't you know how much I love you? Don't
leave me alone!"

Confusion shredded the last of his serenity. He had found Alice at last, and
she wanted him, too--but why should he return to a place where all his efforts
ended in failure?

Not all, whispered his father. Not like me!

Not all, Opa Roye said, grinning widely. Your wine was pretty good.

Not all, his mother laughed. You loved your wife and made her happy.
Don't hold still, here, Friddy, though we love you. This home is always waiting for
you.

She pointed, and he saw: Alice wept for him now. Her tears flowed like a
fountain where he might wash his soul and be clean at last.

He loved her more than his life. He was willing to sacrifice his life for her--
dare he live with her, chancing the possibility of failure again and again?