Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 25)
Chapter 9 Part V
Cindy Bradford
The next morning Patrick slept until 9:30 a.m. When he saw the clock, he jumped out of bed and hurried to the bath for a shower. Although he remembered that Carmella had said it didn’t matter when he arrived for breakfast, he did not want them to think him lazy. By ten o’clock, he was dressed and walking briskly to the main house, when he saw Stefano pulling up and waving. Stefano waited and slapped Patrick on the back as he arrived.
“Good morning, life too difficult for you here in the Tuscan hills?”
Patrick smiled, feeling a flush on his cheeks.
“Don’t feel bad. I have been out since 5:00 a.m., but my lovely wife is still in the bubble bath, I am sure. When I came by about thirty minutes ago, she was just getting in so I know if today is true to form, the bubbles are still bubbling. The woman does love her lavender salts, beads and milk baths. Provence has nothing compared to this woman. Her collection of lavender rivals the south of France,” he laughed, thinking about this beautiful woman covered with gleaming white, frothy bubbles up to her soft black hair that she let down for her bath.
“This is one time that she admits to enjoying the lap of luxury,” he said, winking at Patrick.
Patrick laughed. Here was this big bear of a man, with the loud, gruff voice, who worked daily in the heat of the Tuscan sun, side by side with his men, talking softly about his wife’s bubble bath. I am sure my college English professors could make something poetic or symbolic about all this, Patrick thought.
“Let me grab a cup of coffee and we can go,” Patrick offered.
“Absolutely not, you enjoy your breakfast. We have plenty of time. Those grapes and olives are not going anywhere, anytime soon.”
“After last night, I didn’t think I would ever be hungry again, but I must admit that looks good, eyeing the huge platter of fresh fruit and pastries.”
Carmen spoke to Stefano in Italian.
“Carmen wants to know if you would like some prosciutto and cheese as well.”
“No. This is more than enough.”
Each man filled his plate and drank espresso. When they finished Stefano filled a thermos and grabbed two cups. He talked to Carmen in Italian and then asked Patrick if he was ready.
“Ready. But, will you thank Carmen for my breakfast and ask her to tell Carmella good morning?”
Stefano gave Carmen the messages in Italian, and they were off to view the olives and grapes.
“It is warm this morning. Did you not bring short pants, Patrico?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know for sure if they would be appropriate.”
“Certainly, let’s stop and you can change. It is especially hot under the trees and in the vineyards so you need to be comfortable. In the summer months I wear shorts most of the time. Only yesterday I did not, so I suppose you wondered.”
Patrick ran into the bungalow and quickly changed into shorts and a tee-shirt, immediately feeling more comfortable.
Looking first to one side of the road and then the other, Patrick said, “The vineyards are beautiful, Stefano.”
“Thank you; I never get tired of coming out here. I have a certain peaceful feeling when I walk down these rows. You must come back in October for Crush.”
“Is that harvest?”
“Yes. Crush is the time during harvest season when grapes are picked and crushed, which means the grapes are quickly broken open so yeasts can get into the grapes and begin fermenting the sweet juice.”
“Do you pick by hand or use machinery?”
“Since this is a labor of love, we pick by hand, a lot of hands. When I started, Enrico and I did most of the picking, but as you can see, I have added many vines. I always get the word out if I need extra assistance, but I have four or five men who have helped for years. They cut off individual bunches of grapes with a hooked-tip knife and put them in containers. They know to look for the ripest bunches. An experienced picker can harvest over a ton of fruit in a day so it really does not take that long. We make it a fun time, too. We have lunch out here both days and when we finish we have a big party for the pickers and their families on the second night. Usually a lot of friends show up for the picking and the party.”
“That does sound like fun. I would love to be a part.”
“Then you must come.”
“After you pick then what?”
“That is when the machines come in. We will drive to the building where the crusher-stemmers are kept. Don’t worry, you will not have to roll up your cuffs and stomp. That is all mechanized now,” he laughed. “Plus, I like to get the grapes to the crushers as soon as possible after they are picked, so none will rot.”
“How many tons does this area usually yield?”
“It varies from year to year, of course, but lately about five or six tons, much too much for a hobby. Either I am going to have to begin selling some or acquire a lot more friends.”
“If you harvest five tons of grapes, about how many bottles of wine would that make?”
“Around 3,500,” Stefano grinned. “See what I mean? But, I pay the pickers in wine, not money so that generally takes care of about 1,000 bottles and then what we do not keep for ourselves, we give away. I also barter some with the wine if I need new equipment or help working on a machine, plus the bottlers get paid the same way.”
“I am very generous with my wine because it is my passion.” He looked at his watch. It is past time for lunch. I begin talking about my grapes and lose all focus of time.”
“This is the building where we crush and bottle. You’ll see it better when you come back in October,” Stefano said, pointing.
When they arrived at the house, Carmella was waiting on the veranda, a huge smile on her face. “Elisabette and Guliano are coming Friday. He must return on the night train Saturday, but she is staying a week,” she said excitedly.
“That is wonderful, you two together will weaken my wallet, I am afraid, in that amount of time,” he teased.
“Patrico, you are going to love Elisabette and Guliano. I told her about you and she is anxious to meet you.”
“Carmella, I really should leave here tomorrow,” Patrick said, not wanting to wear out his welcome.”
“No! Patrico,” she said, looking downcast. “You must stay, at least until Saturday. I know you want to get on with your travels, but you really must stay to meet our children.”
Stefano turned and smiled at Patrick. “The woman is quite persuasive. Don’t disappoint her or she will never forgive you.”
“I would like very much to stay, but I just don’t want to be a bother.”
Carmella reached over and put her fingers to Patrick’s mouth. “Shhh… It is settled. If you want to leave Saturday, we will check the train schedule to Florence, and Stefano, Enrico, or someone, will take you to the train. Besides, Guliano will need to go also. On Friday morning, bring your laundry to Carmen and she will have it ready for you to pack on Friday evening.”
“You are very good to me.”
“Then you will come back soon?”
“He is coming to Crush!”
“Oh, Patrico, you will love that. We have so much fun.”
The three sat down to a light lunch of crusty bread and pappa al pomodoro, a thick soup made from tomatoes and drizzled with olive oil. A platter of cheeses, pears, olives, prosciutto and mushrooms sat untouched until Carmella noticed. “We’ve been talking so much I almost forgot,” as she passed the plate to Patrick.
“Here I go again,” Patrick said as he began to fill up on the lunch. Putting his hand on his stomach he said, “Stefano, maybe we should walk through the olive groves,” knowing they went for miles and miles.
“You see, I was once as thin as you. I told you before, time and Carmella made me like this,” he said, grinning.
“Since you are staying until Saturday, why don’t we see the groves tomorrow and you can have the afternoon free. There is a scooter in the back which I will get for you if you would like to look around some on your own.”
“That sounds great, plus that would give you some time to do things you need to do.”
“I am fine and everything that I need to be doing you can do with me. I thought you might like exploring some by yourself.”
“Yes, that sounds like fun.”
“I will pull the scooter around,” Stefano said, excusing himself from the table. He stopped to kiss Carmella on the cheek. “Nice bubble bath? You do smell wonderful.”
“Isn’t he terrible?” she said, obviously loving the attention.
“Patrico, if you take the same road we came in on, you will see a great many lesser roads. If you take any of those, you will be able to see much of the countryside. If you get lost, just stop and ask anyone and they will be able to tell you how to get back. Have fun but be back for cocktails at 6:00 p.m.”
“Thank you, Carmella. I am having such a good time,” as he excused himself from lunch and met Stefano outside.
“I am sure Carmella has already given you your instructions.”
“Yes. I’m to stop if I get lost and be back by six o’clock.”
“Be careful and enjoy the afternoon,” Stefano called and waved as Patrick stepped on the gas pedal and took off.