New Wine

By Donna

 “Neither do men pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved." Matthew 9:17 

He wasn’t at the airport to meet her. He didn’t show up at the hotel room that they had reserved to spend their honeymoon in either. Calls to the nearby Navy base produced no results. His ship was in, but Seaman Robert Hudson was not available for her to talk to, no matter whom she called. Hoping against hope, Marsha Lynn Collins went to the chapel on the beach where they were supposed to have been married. No one. No one at all. 

She had waited there most of the morning, but when it was obvious the man she was supposed to get married to was not going to show, Marty finally left, trying to control her quivering chin. Hiding her growing depression and despair, she spent the rest of that week going through the motions of being a happy tourist, secretly hoping she would run into the man who had stood her up. It was hard. There were so many happy couples everywhere she went. Hardest of all was the day she gone to see the Arizona memorial at Pearl Harbor. Her grandfather had died on that ship that infamous day. Just like her own father, another Navy man, had died in Viet Nam. And now her own marriage to one ended in a different type of disaster even before it had begun! 

She returned to the hotel and packed her bags, wondering what she should do now. Should she go back to where she came from? Beg for her job at the day care back? There really wasn’t anything back where she had lived for her any more. She had moved out of her apartment, quit her job, and sold her car and everything else that she could. All she had left now was in the bags she had carried with her on the flight to Hawaii. For what? 

Nothing. The man she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with was a no show. All those letters, all those phone calls, all those promises of love had meant nothing. Nothing at all. She had nothing now. No job. No home. No family. No long distance boyfriend that she had known since high school. It had been all planned out. “‘Come meet me in Hawaii when my ship is in port, and we will get married!” he had told her repeatedly in his letters. And now that she had finally taken him up on what he had been saying, Robert apparently had gotten cold feet. 

She stood up and wiped the tears from her face. No use crying over spilt milk, as her grandmother used to say. God, how she missed that woman. Her mother had died in a car accident not long after her father’s plane had been shot down. Some say she even drove off the side of that mountain road on purpose, unable to face life as a widow. Grandma Collins had taken her in, but she died just before Marsha had graduated from high school.  

She checked out of the hotel, taking her bags with her, planning on taking the first flight that she could get back to the mainland. But as she stepped out onto the street, the world around her suddenly changed from a tropical paradise filled with broken promises to a grape vineyard set on a remote hillside. There was a chill in the air, as if there would be snow in the near future. 

It was the coldest night so far and Luc decided to have a nicer dinner than usual.  It would cheer him up a little and the cooking would warm the place, as well.  The problem was that he wasn't used to the wood stove yet and he couldn't quite seem to get the temperature right so he could make the sauce he wanted.  The more irritated he became, the more he started talking to the stove.  Finally he was shouting curses at it in his native French, nearly angry enough to kick the stupid thing.   

Unknown to him, the smoke from his stove was a godsend. Marsha was dressed for a warm day in Hawaii, not a winter day in where ever she was! She looked around, sighing with relief when she saw the tendril of smoke rising from a clump of trees a long ways away. Squatting down, she opened one of her suitcases and retrieved a sweater from the bottom of it. It was the warmest thing she had with her. As she slipped it on, the first snowflakes started to fall. 

"Something tells me I'm not in Hawaii anymore," she mumbled to herself. Picking up her suitcases, she started to make her way towards the smoke, hoping to make it there before it got too dark.  

Finally, the thing was right.  Luc started his herbed bread baking and turned his attention to the chicken and vegetables, then the sauce.  He wasn't sure exactly why he felt like cooking something so fussy, but there was nothing else to do and it took his mind off the quiet.  He sighed and wondered whether he should go into town and find a poker game later.   

The soft tapping of someone at his door caught him by surprise. Luc wondered if it was his nearest neighbor, Salvatore Giuliano, at the door. He showed up occasional for supper, not that Luc minded at all when he did! The man actually had a small wine cellar filled with some fairly good vintages in the basement of his villa! Usually when the Sicilian wandered over to share supper with him, he brought a bottle with him. Not wanting to leave his sauce, Luc called out for him to come in. 

On the other side of the door, the half frozen girl heard his voice. A foreign sounding voice! Reaching out with a trembling hand, she tried the door and found it unlocked.  

"Hello?" she said with chattering teeth. "I seem to be lost!"  

"Mon Dieu!"  He took the sauce off the stove and went to her, simultaneously ushering her in and closing the door.  "Come.  Sit by the fire!"  He guided her toward a chair near the fireplace and found a blanket to wrap around her, and then put more wood on the fire.  "Are you all right?” 

"I think so," she said, her slight body shaking from the cold. "So ca..ca..ca..cold though!" Luc ran to pour her some of the hot broth that he had left over from cooking the chicken in. Pushing the mug into her trembling hands, he knelt before her and pulled off the sandals she was wearing, and after rubbing her wet and cold feet dry, he slipped them under his sweater to warm them up with his own body heat. 

"Tha..thank you," she said as she sighed softly in relief. "Where am I? It doesn't snow in Hawaii!"  

"Hawaii?"  He smiled.  That explained the way she was dressed.  It was a good thing she was close to a house when she arrived.  "This place is called Edan.  Far from Hawaii.  Better?"  He carefully moved the chair closer to the fire, while she was still in it.   

"Yes, better," she said, taking another sip of the broth. "My name is Marty. Is this place in France? You are French, right?"  

"I am French, but this is far from France.  There are people here from many places.  We all came here the way you just did.  My neighbor across the road is from Sicily.  Another is from Ireland.  There are also Americans, English.  Many others."  He glanced up at his clock at that moment and remembered the bread.  "One moment."  He bolted for the oven and yanked the door open.  Then sighed in relief.  It hadn't burned.  "Hungry?" 

She nodded. She hadn't eaten that much in the last week. "Yes. It smells delicious. Did you make it?"  

He pretended to look around.  "You see anyone else here?"  He smirked.  "Let me fix the rest of dinner.  All it needs is the sauce."  He cautiously stirred the chicken and vegetables.  Nothing ruined yet.  The sauce didn't take long and he felt very pleased with himself as he was able to serve her a very nice dinner.  She looked so much like....   No.  Best not to think of her.   

He turned to put the food on the table, but found it covered with dishes left over from the last several meals. Scooping it all up, he found room for them next to the full sink. In the meantime, the girl had knelt down by her suitcases, looking for a pair of socks to put on her bare feet. "I gave away all my winter clothes," she told him. "I wasn't going to need them in Hawaii." A sad, far away look crossed her face, but she quickly replaced it with a smile. 

He was a bit embarrassed about the dishes, but there were other things he could do for her.  "Perhaps I have something you could wear until you can get something in town.  Let me look."  He covered the pots and set them where they would stay warm and headed for his closet and dresser.  "They won't fit well, but they will be warmer."  He found socks, a pair of pants, and a shirt.  "Perhaps tomorrow, we can get something better.  There is a store in town, or neighbors."  He handed the things to her.  

"I have a spare room.  You can stay there.  After dinner, I will light the fire there."  He smiled and went back to clean the table and set it and leave her alone to dress.   

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. She slipped the offered clothing over what she was wearing, giggling at how big it was. She rolled up the sleeves of the sweater, and the cuffs of the pants so that she could walk without tripping over them as she walked to the table. "It does smell good. I haven't had much of an appetite lately though."  

"But you must eat or I will be offended,” he smiled.  "Come.  Sit!"  He held the chair for her and lit some extra candles.  "I am a poor host, am I not?  I did not remember to give you my name and I have forgotten yours.  Let us start again."  His eyes crinkled into a smile.  "I am Luc.  Welcome to my home."   

"Marty," she chuckled. "Actually it is Marsha Lynn, but my friends all call me Marty. I'm glad I found your place. Otherwise I would have been a frozen lump under a pile of snow!" Once the food was dished out, she found that she did have enough of an appetite after all! The food was excellent. 

He couldn't help smiling, pleased that she liked the food.  "This meal should have a bottle of wine with it, but that will not be possible until some of mine is aged enough.  Unless my neighbor brings some from his cellar.  We will have to make do with tea, but you still need something warm, no?"   

"Warm is good. Every have hot apple cider?" she asked. "My grandma and I used to make it ourselves." Without waiting for him to reply, she continued to chatter on. "You make your own wine? We made wine too. Beet wine. Strawberry. Even Dandelion. Good stuff. Everyone and his cousin would come over for a sample."  

He winced.  "The only good wine is made from grapes.  I have an entire vineyard of them here.  You walked through it to reach my door.  I made red wine in France.  Here, there is no one else, so I am also making white.  It will be perfect!"  His expression became one of fierce pride when he spoke of his wine.   

Marty stopped in mid bite, trying not to let her feelings get hurt by his tirade. After all, she knew the stuff she and her grandmother used to make was good, even if this Frenchman didn't seem to think it could be.  "I'm sure it will be," she said softly. "But I never could afford the fancy stuff myself. I'm just a country girl, after all."  

He sighed.  He hadn't meant to upset her, but it seemed so....  American... not to appreciate a good wine.  "I did not mean...  I have had several people approach me about it and I know they only think of wine as a way to get drunk.  I think I was reacting to that.  I am sorry.  Some tea?"  The last thing he wanted was to push her away, he found.   

"Tea would be fine," she said. "The food is very good, by the way. I don't ever drink enough to get even a buzz. Just one glass, that’s all. I can nurse it all night if I have to!" 

The corners of his mouth curved into a smile, as he remembered a time he should have done exactly that.  "A skill I should have learned long ago."  He carefully poured the tea.  "I don't know what kind this is.  Katherine brought me this."   

She sniffed the cup. "Raspberry, I think. Maybe wild cherry too. It would go down the best with some wildflower honey, don't you think? Who is Katherine? A girlfriend?"  

"A neighbor.  She is a midwife and knows herbs very well.  She has a new baby and lives with two men."  He grinned at her and watched her face for her reaction. 

"Two?" she chuckled. "How interesting. Good for her! Me, I think I'm going to give up on men. No offense intended. I just don't want to get hurt again." Her chin quivered as she struggled to get her emotions under control. "Never again," she whispered. 

He frowned slightly, concerned.  "I do not know what has happened to you, but not all men treat women badly.  Why should you give up on all of us?"  

She shrugged and sipped her tea. "I just don't want to ever go through again what I have just gone through." She hesitated for a moment, and then with a gush of words, told him everything. It felt good to let it out, to finally tell someone how much she was hurting! 

He listened quietly and when she finished, gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.  "He was a fool.  You are better off without him.  In this place, you can make a new start and no one here would ever do such a thing.  Much better than Hawaii.  Here, you can have a home and a whole new life, no worry about money."  He saw the look on her face and went to her and took her into his arms.  "It will be all right."   

"Yeah," she sniffed as she wiped the tears from her face. "It will be. I know it will now."