14. Jacob

Jacob’s hands and lower legs were stained a purplish red. He knew it would be there for a few days, of not more. He sat in front of the fire, with no other light on in the house. He was alone. He felt the loneliness of the house crushing him, just as he had done to the grapes that very afternoon. He could hear it settle; hear the echo of nothing bouncing through the tiled halls.
He took another sip of the wine beside him. It was beginning to warm him from under his skin, perfectly complementing the warmth of the fire on his skin. He felt guilty. He had never crushed the grapes without Amelia before. It felt like he was cheating on a cherished lover. He was enjoying the grapes without her, but not really. The pain in his chest grew heavier with every step, with every added gallon of juice they created. He had been brought to his knees by the memory of her, with Frank having to save him from the drunken mire of his emptiness.
Suddenly, the phone rang. It gave Jacob a start, jerking him from the haze of pain and numbness he had been swimming in all evening. He let it continue to ring until the answering machine picked up. A stab went through his heart as he remembered Amelia’s voice was still greeting callers. After the beep, there was an awkward pause, then Frank’s hesitant, yet gruff voice. “I’ll come in early tomorrow to take care of the sulfides and the yeast. We probably don’t need sugar; it looked pretty good before we harvested. Anyway, if you want to stay in, I just wanted to let you know that I’d take care of it. See you later.”
Frank. Jacob had always liked him. He could always be counted on to make sure things ran smoothly in the vineyard. He was ten or fifteen years younger than Jacob, and had started on as Jacob’s right hand man eight years before. He was a lean man, the kind of person one thought of when the word ‘cowboy’ was heard. He was dependable, and knew wine as well or better than most, and seemed to take honest enjoyment in every facet of winemaking. He was friendly and caring, and treated everyone with respect, from Jacob to the Spanish-speaking workers that harvested with them every year. He had a wife and a couple of kids, and was originally from Oregon. Aside from that, Jacob knew nothing about him. He’d never even met Frank’s family. Until now he’d never even thought of it. How selfish he suddenly felt. How self-absorbed.
Jacob finished the last swallow of wine in his glass, then made his way up to bed. He wanted to make sure to get to the barn before Frank started in the morning. He wanted to be there, even if Frank didn’t need him.