Spilt Wine

58. Where There's a Will...

After we had fine-tuned the work order, I had signed it and Aristide left, Catherine picked up my hand and said, "We were going to talk about what's spinning in that head. Come! To the couch. Let Doctor Katy examine your troubled mind."

I lay back next to the corner of the couch, and she stretched out, her back across my midriff with her shoulders nestled into the soft cushion. We looked silently at each other.

Finally, Catherine said very softly, as she stroked my chest, "So what is troubling you – what's going on?"

"I'm not sure ... I've so much noise in my head ... So many conflicting messages, images of climbing, free, alone, unfettered. On a mountain arête, searching, sensing the route that leads onward, higher. Reaching the summit and finding immense pleasure in the moment but then finding no one there but me." I sighed.

"I've climbed solo most of my life, even before I saw my first mountain. I've done things on my own – in my own way. I've always loved my freedom to come and go, to move with my will, with my impulses, to follow my whims. They've always been good to me ... Alone, I've always enjoyed my solitude and my self-sufficiency. Maybe I've simply convinced myself I'm happy being free because I've never found anyone to share my life with."

After a long pause, I said, "I'm afraid, I'm ..." I looked away, then back into her eyes. "I love you," I said, my eyes watering.

"I don't see that as a problem at all." She sat to lick a tear as it rolled onto my lip. "I've known that for a long time."

"Yes, I suppose you must have – I'm not at all good at hiding my emotions, am I? I just don't know how to express them in words."

"Often words aren't needed, David. Our spirits speak quite eloquently when we allow them to ... Allowing them to is the thing."

"So why is loving you a problem for me? Why do I —?"

The phone rang. We kissed, and Catherine said, "You stay there, I'll get it. Keep that thought, I'll be right back."

Across the speaker came Grattien's voice telling her analysis easily showed the signatures on the transfer papers to be forgeries, crude forgeries. "The cadastral records are now being restored. You'll soon own the vineyards in Chambertin again."

"That's certainly a relief. I'm now back to half ownership of the domaine."

"Half?"

"Yes, Philippe inherits Francine's share as her widower. Pierre had no wife or children. We don't even know if he had a will – yes he did – of course, he did. Why didn't I think of this earlier?" She snuggled her bum into my front as I came up behind and wrapped her in my arms. "Being a lawyer, Pierre had insisted his brother and sister make wills. Both Francine and Pierre had given copies of their wills to Louis, naming him as their executor. They're upstairs in the vault with the other papers."

"You should look at those," Grattien said. "They will assist you in deciding what to do with the ashes. They are still at the crematorium in Paris waiting for your further instructions."

"Another thing I had forgotten about."

"I am being buzzed on the other line. I will see you with croissants and train tickets in the morning."

As Catherine led me up the stairs, she said, "I have the combination written down somewhere." Chuckling, she added, "Hidden where nobody would find it, probably not even me."

A few minutes later, as she bent over to search the back of a low cedar chest, I nuzzled up behind her, put one hand around her waist and the other across her chest to cup her left breast.

She sat up in bed nearly an hour later. "I know where it is." She hopped up and crossed the room to an armchair in the corner, then rolled it onto its side and read the three numbers off an oak slat on the bottom.

At the back of the small safe was a bundle in black ribbon. We sat on the bed as she untied it. "Which should I look at first?" She looked up at me and giggled. "Down, boy. Down. Didn't we just finish playing with you?"

I looked down. "I guess it's on autopilot. You're such a gorgeous creature, it can't help saluting you."

She broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out Louis' will. "I knew this, he had told me everything of his would be left to me."

"Now Pierre," she said as she opened the next envelope and scanned through the simple testament. "Divided equally between Francine and Louis is the gist of it, a very simple will."

Catherine opened the third envelope and pulled out two separately folded pages, one imprinted Dernières Volontés, the other handwritten Tres Important. She looked up and into my eyes. "This is interesting, I would think she wanted Louis to read this one first."

She unfolded the page and read, her eyes welling with tears, her hand beginning to tremble. "That fucking evil monster, that –"

"What is it?"

She remained silent, staring open-mouthed at the page shaking in her hand. Then, handing it to me, she slumped to the bed and wept, the convulsive sobs shaking her whole body.

I read the short handwritten note: Philippe is a violent man, abusing me verbally, emotionally and physically. If I am found dead in mysterious circumstances, he likely acted upon his frequent threat. Have my death very closely examined.

I moved across the bed to Catherine, pulled the duvet over us, and we cuddled, my hand cradling the back of her head.