The Winemaker Read online

  Zenna watched her silently. She wondered why a man like Etán wouldn’t make a woman like Sanita happy. They looked perfect for each other, and it grated on her nerves. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt envious, and jealous of the glorious woman. At least a man’s heart had once belonged to Sanita, wholly and totally, so much so he had married her. So much so he didn’t want to divorce her, even if she wanted to divorce him. She bet Etán would never have suggested helping Sanita out in the sex department because he thought she needed a shag. She was envious about the way in which Etán had taken her arm and led her into the house. It was respectful, like he thought the world of her. Maybe he still loved her.

  When the tray was set with a fresh pot of tea, cups, sugar and milk, and Teresa bent to pick it up, Zenna jumped forward, laying her arm on Teresa’s. “Let me,” she said smoothly. “I’ll take it.”

  Teresa gave her a quizzical look. “Senorita, it’s not appropriate. You cannot take the tray.”

  Zenna smiled sweetly. “To me, it is appropriate. Besides, I want to meet the lady.”

  She took the tray from Teresa’s hands. Teresa looked taken aback. The housekeeper stared at Luca, who simply shrugged, looking amused.

  They were not sitting in the lounge, as Zenna had expected, but in the inner courtyard at a wrought iron table. It was a small table for two, and the intimacy of the set-up suddenly struck Zenna. She felt like an intruder, but it was too late to turn back because both Etán and Sanita had already noticed her.

  Sanita’s reaction was not as well hidden as Etán’s staff when they had first met her, Zenna thought. The woman looked at her as if she was something the cat had dragged in. Her perfectly made-up eyes took in the plain, undone, curly hairstyle, the clean face, not even a trace of eyeliner this morning, the comfortable sweatshirt, the faded jeans, and finally, Zenna’s socked feet. She took everything in at a glance with the practiced skill of someone who was used to sizing up people.

  Etán got to his feet. “Sanita, this is Zenna,” he said politely, “my PR agent I have been telling you about.”

  They had spoken about her? Zenna’s eyebrow lifted, her gaze shifting from Sanita to Etán.

  “Sanita obviously saw the article in Gossip.” He took the tray from her and put it on the table.

  “Oh, that,” Zenna said, trying to sound casual.

  Sanita didn’t offer any form of greeting or looked as if she was going to kiss Zenna on the cheek, like all Chileans did with people they considered of their equal status, or even shake her hand, as all Chileans did with people they considered not of their equal status. Zenna stood, rooted to the spot.

  Sanita’s eyes swept over Zenna again. It was a fleeting movement, but her discontent was unmistakable. When her beautiful brown eyes finally rested on Zenna again, she could read the triumph on the Chilean woman’s face. It was a look from one female to another, declaring Zenna no match for her.

  Sanita turned back to Etán. “I find this absurd,” she said in a polished voice. “It’s almost comical. How could they even make an allegation like this? You should sue them.”

  Zenna knew the words were meant as a slap in her face. How could anyone expect a man like Etán to have romantic feelings for a woman like her? She propped her hands on her hips.

  “What do you find so funny? I hardly find it humorous when a popular national magazine accuses me of sleeping with him.” She flicked her thumb in Etán’s direction. “It may spoil my chances with every one else. I certainly don’t want to follow in your footsteps. You obviously didn’t do well with your choice.”

  She didn’t miss the dark look Etán shot her, but she didn’t care. She lifted her chin, turned, and stomped away. It was a pity her socks couldn’t make much of a noise on the marble floor for her grand exit as she felt two pairs of eyes drill into her back.

  In the hallway, she stopped. Well, she handled that one well. As usual. She swore inwardly. It was despicable, but she couldn’t help standing where she could overhear the rest of their conversation, peering around the door. She saw Sanita pouring the tea. It was a natural movement, like it was her place to do so. She seemed sure of herself and her status, of who she was. Zenna felt her envy deepen.

  Etán’s face was a mask. He was polite, but it was impossible to read what was going on in his mind. Zenna wished she had Luca’s ability to sense emotions. Why would it be so important to her to know what Etán was feeling? Why was she standing in the hallway of Etán’s house spying on him? She assured herself it wasn’t him she was spying on. She just wanted to know what they were saying about her.

  Etán leaned forward and took the tea Sanita offered him. “You know I’m not someone for small talk. Let’s not beat around the bush. What is it exactly you came to see me about? When you called this morning, you said you wanted to pay me a social visit. This is very unlike you. For months before our divorce you refused to see me. Why now? Why this sudden interest? Was it the Gossip article, Sanita?”

  She smiled. Everything about her was subtle seduction, even her smile. “All right, Etán. It’s so like you to come straight to the point. Maybe my curiosity was a little bit piqued by what I saw in that magazine, but now that I have seen her for myself, I almost feel sorry for you. It’s a terrible joke.” She poured milk into his tea.

  Zenna noticed she didn’t need to ask. She still knew how he took his tea. Little details. Intimate details. She fought not to give up her hiding place and tell the dark-haired beauty exactly what she though of her.

  “We need to be friends, Etán,” Sanita said sweetly.

  His face remained unchanged. “We don’t have children. We don’t have to be friends. I’ve told you, Sanita, and I’m only going to tell you once more. I don’t do friendships with my ex-lovers. I told you, if we break the ties, we break them clean.”

  She tilted her head prettily. “I wasn’t just one of your ex-lovers. I was your wife. We could be nice to each other.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes piercing. Finally, he put the teacup down on the table, his tea untouched. “I don’t do nice, either. I have never been anything less than civil to you, Sanita. I’m sure it’s not niceties or friendship you’re after. What is it you really want?”

  She drank her tea, unmoved by his sudden hostile tone. She looked at him from under her eyelashes. Finally, she put down her cup, and put her hand over his. She held his gaze.

  “What if I made a terrible mistake, Etán?”

  His eyes turned hard, cold. “Then that’s a mistake both of us are going to have to live with for the rest of our lives.”

  Anger crept into her tone. “Why must everything always be so black and white with you, Etán?”

  “Because certain things in life are black or white. You don’t get to paint a little bit of gray in-between and then wipe it all out, pretending you haven’t blotched it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Thank you for reminding me why I left you in the first place.”

  Zenna watched as she stood, stretched herself to her full length, and squared her shoulders. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she turned and walked toward the door. Zenna had just enough time to make it back to the kitchen and watch through the window as Sanita walked briskly to her car, sliding swiftly into the driver’s seat, and slamming the door behind her. Etán emerged on the veranda. He stood there until the trail of dust disappeared through the main gates of the estate.

  Anyone with half a brain could tell Etán was upset. He stomped around the house for an hour like an injured lion and then disappeared. Zenna gave him ample time to cool off, before she went in search of him. It pained her to see him like that. Sanita was a wound that hadn’t healed, and she understood that too well. Maybe he was being given another opportunity to be with the woman he loved, but was too hardheaded to take it.

  Zenna tried to put herself in his shoes. What would she have done if Marcos had come back to her? Already, her life with him seemed so long ago. Yet, it was only a sh
ort while ago he walked out of her life, dumping her into a cauldron of a mess. Could she ever, really forgive him or trust him again? She pondered the questions, but her mind always wondered back to Etán.

  She wanted to reach out to Etán, to soothe him. It was obvious he was suffering, and it upset her. Despite the fact he was an arrogant bastard, it was stupid to punish himself for nothing. A part of her was glad he hadn’t explored Sanita’s proposal, but another part of her couldn’t see him in agony. It was the latter part of her that won over her selfish approval of his choice as she walked around the house, trying to find him.

  She first went to the office, but Emmie told her Etán was working from the house. He hadn’t been in to the office yet. She knocked on the door of his suite, looked in the lounge, the study, and, finally, she walked out onto the veranda. It was only when she rounded the side of the house that she saw him. He sat in one of the lounge chairs next to the pool, hunched over, his arms on his knees, his fingertips touching. He looked tired. Zenna felt a wave of compassion rise.

  She walked up to him and sat on the chair next to him. For a while they didn’t speak. At last, he lifted his head and stared into the distance where the sun touched the vines.

  Zenna noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, shivering. It felt cooler next to the pool.

  “It’s my heart that’s cold, Zenna,” he said. “Do you believe one woman can turn a man’s heart to stone?”

  The honest admission took Zenna by surprise and disappointed her. There was a part of her that didn’t want to believe he was incapable of feeling anything for anyone else again. She looked at him for a long time, formulating her words.

  “You know, sometimes one can be wrong and admit it,” she began carefully.

  He turned his head toward her, the coldness in his eyes making them shine like hard, green diamonds.

  Zenna blinked at the bitterness and cold determination she saw there. He surely wasn’t someone you wanted as your enemy. “Sometimes, you have to swallow your pride, for the sake of your own happiness. I would take Marcos back if he came to me and confessed he was wrong.”

  “Is that so?” His eyes narrowed on her. “I can’t understand for the life of me why you would want to take a weasel like him back. Do you value yourself so little? Or do you simply wish to follow in your mother’s footsteps?”

  She flinched as if he had dealt her a physical blow. The pain his words caused, flickered in her gaze for the slightest moment, before she managed to suppress it and make herself appear disinterested.

  “You’re right. It wasn’t my place to interfere.” She took a ragged breath. “Sanita is right. I can absolutely see why she left you.” With that, she rose abruptly and walked back to the house, her step heavy.

  She almost bumped into Ana in the hallway. Zenna’s heart sank. When Ana had called earlier in the day to say Margarita had been delayed and wouldn’t make it to the estate before late afternoon, she had been secretively relieved. She wasn’t looking forward to the work that lay ahead of her, even if she knew, now more than ever, how vital it was. She had actually hoped they wouldn’t make it until the next day. Maybe she hoped she could have put it off indefinitely, but now Ana stood in front of her, and to her left was a very plain looking woman in her late fifties.

  Like Ana, she had gray hair. Hers was long, and twisted into a bun at the back of her neck. Long, dangling earrings flashed as she introduced herself and hugged Zenna.

  “We can start now and get a good session in before dinner. Let’s go to the study,” Ana said to Zenna’s utter dismay.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zenna followed Ana and Margarita reluctantly, her heart and thoughts heavy. She sat in the armchair next to the fireplace as she was instructed, looking from Ana to Margarita with wariness.

  “Zenna,” Margarita took the seat opposite her and took her hands, “Ana explained to me you do not yet know how to work with your mind to control your visions. Am I right?”

  Zenna nodded.

  “I can help you, but you have to want it. If you resist, in even the slightest way, I cannot help you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Zenna nodded again. “Yes. You need me to want to have the visions.”

  “More than that. At first, I need your mind’s conscious permission to control your visions. It’s almost like a co-pilot flying with a pilot. I’m going to direct your thoughts if you allow me to do so and to show you how to control them.”

  “Can you do that? I didn’t know it was possible.”

  “It is. That is why, if you do not know how to control your gift, it makes you so vulnerable to other visionaries. With the right technology or corrupt seers, they can override your mind and use it to gain information about the future, the past, or wherever they manipulate your mind to go, and that is a situation you do not want.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I know you are sadly uneducated on the subject. Most families with the ability tend to teach their children from a very young age, and they prevent them from becoming targets of unethical organizations, or victims to sporadic, uncontrolled visions. Once you have control, your mind can no longer be manipulated.”

  “My father ... he didn’t have a chance to teach me. My mother didn’t know.”

  “I know. Ana explained. Now, when you have your visions, you experience some measure of discomfort. How would you rate the pain on a scale of one to five?”

  “Five,” she said without hesitation.

  “Can you tell me how it starts and what you feel when it happens?”

  “It usually comes suddenly, like a flash. There is a lot of bright light and then a mental picture. It only lasts for a second or two. Then the light explodes, fragments, and the pain begins.”

  “Like a headache?”

  “Yes, like a severe headache. It’s almost intolerable. I take painkillers, but they knock me out and then I have to sleep them off.”

  “These visions, can you say if there is one type of situation that always precedes them? For example, do you experience your flashes after you’ve been exposed to stress or anger? What I’m trying to determine, is whether there is something consistent in the triggers.”

  Zenna shook her head. “Emotional stress? I can’t really think of anything.”

  “Think back to the last vision you had. What had happened just before?”

  “I was in a lift with my attacker. I saw him dragging my body down a corridor just before it actually happened.”

  “I see. In this case, it was triggered by a premonition of danger. That’s good. That’s very powerful. Think back to another one. Did you have any other visions shortly before that one?”

  Zenna looked uncertainly at Ana. “Yes. Repetitive ones.”

  “Always the same?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they surface in another way? In dreams, maybe?”

  “Yes,” Zenna said, surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “These are well known characteristics of visions related to the past. Your talent is exceptionally strong. Most visionists only have either the futuristic or the past ability, but not both.”

  “Is that good, or bad?” she asked warily.

  “It’s good, but it means your physical experience of the pain is as strong as your capacity. At first, it won’t be easy. However, as you master control, the physical discomfort will fade and then completely disappear.”

  “Does that mean it will hurt?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Zenna. You know what you feel after the visions. If you let me take control of your mind, you are going to have to trust me. I have to let you live the vision, see it in its complete form. It may last longer than a second or two. It won’t be smooth sailing at first, but it’s the only way to get through this, to get to the end-result. I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. Think about the end-result, about the freedom. It’s like giving birth. At first, you think the pain is intoler
able, but it’s all over before you even know it, and you won’t even remember the hardship. The reward will make up for it.”

  “Except it’s going to be like giving birth over and over again.”

  “We will be here for you,” Ana interjected.

  “Do you have a lot of experience in this, Margarita?” Zenna asked, suddenly frightened.

  The older woman smiled reassuringly. “Yes. My mother was a teacher. She trained me to follow in her footsteps.”

  “Your visions, are they like mine?”

  “Mine are only from the past, whereas Ana’s are from the future.”

  “Have you helped anyone with visions like mine before?”

  “No,” Margarita said honestly. “I haven’t worked with many adults either. It mostly starts in childhood. My job is to aid, guide, and to train the growing mind. Your mind is already mature. It established its patterns and its beliefs, and it will take more work to break down your barriers of restraint, which is why, the less you resist me, when I take control of your mind, the easier it will be for the both of us.”

  Zenna inhaled deeply. “I’ll try.”

  “Do you want to do this, Zenna? Do you want control of your life?”

  “Yes,” she said shakily.

  “Let’s get started. The first thing I need you to do is to close your eyes and to focus on my voice. Try to block out everything else from your mind. Think of it as a form of meditation. Think of it as a flight we are taking together. Think of your mind as an eagle. Think of mine as the handler that commands the flight of the eagle. We are going to fly, and, once we do, once we are up in the air, you won’t have control over your wings. You have to trust me and believe in me. I won’t let us fall. We are going to soar over the mountains and come back for a gentle landing. Ready?”

  Zenna breathed in again, nodding her head shakily. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “All right.” Margarita tightened her grip on Zenna’s hands. “Ana, you help her with her breathing.” She pulled Zenna down to the carpet, kneeling in front of her. “I have you. I’ve got your hands. I won’t let go. It’s important for you when your mind takes flight to be grounded to earth. This,” she motioned to their hands, “is your link to reality. Deep down you will know I won’t let you go. Try to breathe in and out deeply. It will help with the discomfort. Ana will help you.”