“Good,” I said, feeling the infectious allure of her playfulness seep into my bones. “Very good.”
She nodded slowly and pursed her lips. She tightened the grip on her reins. “Then let’s see if you can keep up.”
The final word of her sentence had barely left her mouth before her legs squeezed Rosa, and my eager Andalusian leaped into a quick trot, immediately followed by a canter. It took me a moment to give chase, but all I needed to do was allow Nico his head to set a good pace. Seeing Rosa now at a full gallop was all the encouragement he needed.
I dug in my heels and leaned forward, embracing the blood surging faster and faster through my veins. Nico was well-ridden and fit, so it took us no time to shorten Caresa’s lead. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. In that moment, the beauty of her face caused an uncharacteristic swaying in my always-perfect seat. Caresa laughed loudly as I wobbled. Now facing north, I leaned further forward, urging Nico to gather speed.
The echo of her joy darted past me, the high-pitched notes sailing back toward the barn. The challenge was set. Raising my reins further up Nico’s neck, I pushed him to his maximum speed, seeing the end of the track up ahead. Caresa verbally spurred Rosa on; I did the same with Nico.
It wasn’t long before Nico’s fitness and longer stride pulled us alongside Caresa and Rosa. Caresa looked at me, a mask of competitive determination etched on her face. We hit the end of the track at the same time, Caresa pulling Rosa to a slow canter to the left, and me pulling Nico to the right. I wound Nico down to a canter, then a steady trot, before bringing him to a walk. He was breathing heavily, but his ears were pointing forward, his spirits raised by the hard exercise.
I steered him around. Caresa was bringing Rosa toward us in a slow trot. When she reached us, her giggle was loud and light. “Achille Marchesi, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time!”
We continued on next to each other in a slow walk, allowing the horses to gather their breath. A light sheen of sweat blanketed Rosa’s coat. Caresa must have seen what I was looking at because she said, “When was the last time she was ridden?”
“Over a year ago, but it was just on a lead rein. Her last real ride that pushed her was over two years ago. I tried to take her out myself, but she struggled under my weight. I lunge her out in the paddock, but you’ll know that’s never the same as having a rider schooling her.”
Caresa reached down to pat Rosa’s neck. When she straightened, she assessed me with narrowed eyes. “You’re a very good rider, Achille. Excellent, in fact.”
“You are too.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” I replied, seeing Caresa’s lips hook up at the corners.
I pointed to the farthest set of vines. “We can start there. I planted these vines at a later date than the ones we have been harvesting. I do it days apart or in accordance to the soil’s pH, quality and amount of sun exposure the area gets. I must time it perfectly so that when I harvest I can collect the grapes when they are at their perfect ripeness.” I shrugged. “It’s not always an exact science, so if I finish the picking early some days, I ride out and make sure none of the rows need any extra attention. Or if I need to change my schedule and harvest these first.” I studied a few bunches of grapes, judging by their coloring and size that my estimation of their readiness was on track.
“I never knew so much attention to detail was involved. I knew the traditional method was much more intensive, of course, but I think I have been spoiled by seeing only mechanical tools used in the fields.” She shook her head. “Your way is so much more inspiring, Achille. Truly.”
“Thank you.”
Minutes of companionable silence passed. Caresa allowed me to check the row uninterrupted. As we made our way to the next, she said, “That’s why you ride then?” She pointed to the soil. “So everything stays as pure as possible?”
“Yes,” I replied, reaching down to run my fingers through Nico’s mane. “A winemaker is not a good winemaker unless he respects the soil that yields his fruit. Tractors can cause too much compaction of the soil. With horses, there are no chemicals seeping into the ground or clogging the air. The Bella Collina soil is impressive, probably because of its distance from any sources of pollution.” I took in a breath of the clean fresh air I was talking about. “But this path, this small acreage of mine, there is something even more special here. The soil is different somehow. It’s incomparable to anything nearby. It is sacred, and, as such, deserving of a winemaker who nurtures and cherishes the gift it gives. It would be sacrilegious to reward it with the introduction of gas and oil. A horse’s hoof is gentle and kind. It doesn’t punish, it . . . understands.”
I didn’t realize Caresa had drawn to a stop until I noticed that the rhythmic sound of Rosa’s hooves on the ground had faded to silence. “Caresa?” I called, concerned. I found her motionless, staring at me with an intense expression on her face. I pulled on Nico’s reins and walked carefully to where she sat. “Caresa? Are you well?”
“You care so much,” she whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t catch her words. She blinked twice. “All of this, what you have created, what you achieve each season . . . it’s . . . breathtaking. More than inspiring, your grace and devotion is . . . majestic.” She shook her head as if she was searching for the right words. She finally settled on, “You should be very proud.” She paused, tilted her head to the side and, with a heartbreakingly honest expression, added, “Your father . . . he must have been so very proud of you. And he must be still, smiling down from heaven at the man you have become.”
I was glad the wind chose that moment to swirl around us, because then I could blame the sudden wetness on my lashes on the breeze. I could blame the blurring of my vision on the cool waves of wind washing over my face.
“I just had to say that to you,” Caresa said. My head was turned to the side, evading her watchful gaze. I kept my focus on the smudge of dirt on the back of my hand as I gripped the reins tightly.
She spoke again. “My papa always told me that when someone deserved praise, they should be given it. That when something floored you so incredibly, you should explain why.” She held her breath for a moment. “And you deserved to hear that, Achille. That and much, much more. I couldn’t let another second go by without saying it aloud.”
I didn’t know how badly I had needed to hear such a sentiment until that moment. Hadn’t realized how devoid of kindness or affection my life had been until her compliment burrowed its way deeply into my heart.
Hadn’t realized how lonely I was until I had someone walking beside me, laughing with me under the sun.
Seconds passed before I breathed easily again. Until I could meet her eyes. Caresa gave me a small smile. I turned Nico and said, “We must check the rest of the vines.”
We walked slower this time, as though the sun was not beginning to lower in the sky. I tipped my head up, noticing gray clouds moving in. The air smelled fresher, the wind blew colder. No doubt a downpour would hit within the next few hours.
I didn’t mind. The rain always created better-flavored grapes.
Caresa brought Rosa beside us. We silently searched row after row. When we arrived back on the track to go to the next section, she asked, “Achille?”
“Yes?”
“Who was that woman in the framed picture in the tack room?” I tensed a little at her question. Growing up, there had only been my father and me. I had always been quiet, reserved, unused to talking much about myself. My father knew that, but never pushed me. He could talk enough for us both.
Caresa’s question made me see that, in my life, I had barely spoken to anyone outside of this land.
“My mother,” I answered, seeing her face from that picture so clearly in my mind.
Caresa sighed. “She is so beautiful.”
“Was.”
Caresa stopped breathing for a moment, then said, “Oh, Achille, I am so sorry.”
“I didn’t know her.” I looked at Caresa from the corner of my eye. She was watching me intently. “She died at my birth. She hemorrhaged. It was a home birth here on this estate, so the paramedics couldn’t get to her in time to save her.”