11. Jacob

Jacob’s eyes opened early; the sun was just beginning to sprinkle light on the hills. He could see the clouds behind it, casting shadows up into the sky. He got up and closed the window; the curtains drifted softly to the sill. He shivered slightly. There was a slight chill that had settled in the air overnight. Autumn would soon be winter.
When Jacob got to the wine barn, it was filled with quiet. His skin prickled in the cool breeze. This was going to be a day. He didn’t know what kind yet. It had always been his favorite day of the year, and Amelia’s too. He remembered her bubbly laugh bouncing off the rafters of the barn; the way she seemed to lose herself like a kid on Christmas. He leaned against the wall of the barn and looked at the stillness before him. It wasn’t fair, he thought. Amelia should be here. This was what she loved. This was what she lived for. He was still for a while; thinking about her. Thinking about how she had been snatched from him before she should have been.
He remembered the way the wreckage looked, and how he could only stare at it; not comprehending what had happened. He remembered the police telling him it was a freak accident; that she had died instantly; that there was no way anyone could have ever survived an accident like that. He remembered wondering how long an instant was. She must have been terrified in that instant, and his heart hurt thinking about exactly how long that instant might have been. He remembered that Amelia was always a safe driver. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen to people who drove like she did. He remembered the numbing daze of disbelief and pain, and how the only relief from it was drunkenness, if only for a little while. He remembered cursing the weather, the curve in the road, and especially that truck she was driving. He remembered the last time they ever spoke. She had called from town. Instead of saying “Goodbye”, she always said, “I love you”. He knew other people thought it was hokey, but it was all he had to hold on to now. Because he knew she meant it, as much or more than he did.
He didn’t know how long the wall had held him up, but Frank came in and looked at him with a concerned eyebrow. He caught Frank’s eye briefly, then pushed his body away from the wall. “It’s about time,” he tried to joke. He slapped Frank on the back and they started getting ready for their day. Frank had already gotten many of the grapes in the day before, but Jacob wanted to wait until today to pick the Malbec and Petit Verdot. He was hoping to eke one more day of earth and sky out of them. He would let Frank take care of the Verdot, but he wanted to do the Malbec himself. This was the grape that Amelia had insisted they plant five years ago, and this was the first time it would be harvested for wine. She had taken such care with the vines; Jacob had even caught her talking to them a few times. She had been looking forward to harvesting the literal fruits of her labors for a long time. The least Jacob could do was get the most out of them as possible.
Jacob and Frank began picking, with an army of workers following close behind. Jacob knew they would have to work fast; the clouds were gaining on the sun, determined to blot it out. Bucket after bucket was filled. Jacob’s excitement grew with every bunch he pulled from the vine. He could almost taste the juice they would produce just by looking at them.
They got the bulk of the grapes in that morning. Jacob and Frank stayed in the barn to press the grapes, while the workers returned to the vines to get the remaining bunches in before the weather turned sour. Normally they stayed in the barn and finished harvesting the next day, but Jacob could feel the skin on the back of his neck tingling with the chill of rain. He couldn’t take the chance of losing the rest of the fruit. Besides, this was going to be the most difficult day in the barn he ever spent, and he didn’t want anyone around to see it.
While Frank dumped the grapes into the vat for crushing, Jacob scrubbed his legs and feet down thoroughly. Amelia had always done this. She said she liked the squishing between her toes when the skins popped, and how the juice ran over her ankles and feet. And Jacob had always liked watching her. It was like watching a kid splash around in the mud, jumping and laughing at each splatter of purple juice on her skin.
The vat was ready when Jacob returned. Frank looked at him, but said nothing. The air had a solemnity that had never been in the barn before. Jacob looked at Frank for a long moment, then said, “I’ll do this alone today. Why don’t you get started with the other vats.” Frank hesitated, and then walked out, closing the door behind him.
Jacob climbed up to the top of the vat and looked inside. He gingerly poked a foot through the clusters of berries, until it came to rest against the bottom, with carcasses of exploding grapes providing a thin barrier between his sole and the vat. His other foot followed. He stood there briefly, looking at the stumps of his legs disappearing into the sea of dark marbles.
He started stomping them, and tried to erase the nostalgia of the ritual with every step. He tried to think about how all the natural components of the berries would mix to create the kind of wine that would make the cover of the magazines. He thought about how he would blend the varieties to make good wines even better. He started to think about the wine that would make people stop to think about what they were tasting, the wine that people would save for their most special occasions. And then he was back to remembering the wine that Amelia had crushed with her own feet. No matter how hard he tried to make the wine without Amelia, he knew she would always be there.
Suddenly he heard Frank call his name. Jacob felt his head in his hands realized he had been sobbing. His hands were covered with the red stains, as was his face. He looked up and Frank was standing next to the vat. “Jacob,” he repeated. “I think you got most of it. I’ll take care of the stems. You go ahead and get cleaned up. Take your time.”
Frank handed him a towel, and Jacob climbed out of the crimson juice. It had stained his skin enough to last for at least a couple of days, but he didn’t mind. For some reason, it made him feel like Amelia was with him. He shuffled to his office and sat staring at his discolored hands while listening to the sounds of harvest outside.