Take Me Higher (3 page)

‘Pops is very sick, Mom. Diana says we can be upset but we have to be strong, for Pop’s sake. But I don’t feel very strong,’ Keoki faltered.

Syrah placed an arm round her son and pulled him against her to comfort him. By this time Ira and Diego were at her side. Diego, who had known Keoki since he was a baby, took him from Syrah and walked him away, talking to him in a soothing voice. Diego had known and respected Ethan all his life; his father was one of Ethan’s best friends. The news was distressing for him too. Ethan had been more than a
good friend to him when Diego had inherited the family vineyards and winery in his native Chile.

With Keoki out of earshot, Diana was able to fill in the details. ‘Your brother Caleb called. Ethan’s had a stroke and the prognosis is very bad. It’s just a matter of time, a very short time.’

Syrah felt her whole world crashing down around her. Her father was her greatest friend: a man of charm and accomplishment whom she respected and admired. Though disapproving of the playgirl life she had chosen away from the family winery in the Napa Valley, he had supported her right to live as she wanted to and loved her for it. Fear gripped her. She had never even considered a life without her father.

‘You must get a grip on yourself, Syrah. Ethan is calling for you – there’s no time to lose. I’ve brought you a change of clothes.’

‘You’re right,’ she answered mechanically.

‘I’ll charter you a plane,’ offered Ira.

‘No. Thanks, but it will be faster if you get one of the fly boys to refuel my plane and get it ready for take off. Ira, please tell the men controlling air traffic down on the runway to get me at the head of the queue. I’ll be down as soon as I change. Diana, please call Caleb and ask him to tell my father that Keoki and I are on the way. He’s to have the lights on the air strip turned on and a car waiting to take me up to the house.’

Diego and Keoki overheard the last few words as they approached Syrah. Diego immediately offered, ‘I think you’re under enough stress, I’ll fly you.’

‘Thanks, but I can get more out of the Stearman and get us there faster if I fly it.’

‘I don’t think you should make this flight alone, Syrah,’ Ira cautioned.

‘Oh, do shut up, Ira, she won’t be alone – I’m going with her,’ Diana told him, barely able to conceal the anxiety in her voice.

There was relief on Syrah’s face and gratitude in her eyes as she swiftly hugged her friend before she dashed back to Ira’s bedroom to climb once more into her flying suit.

They took off from Malibu for the Richebourg-Conti vineyard in the Napa Valley while the sun still hovered over the horizon. Syrah was at the controls, Keoki crammed with Diana in the forward seat of the two-seater bi-plane.

Chapter 2

On the ground Syrah had been traumatised by fear at the prospect of losing her father but had kept herself under a semblance of control so as not to frighten her son. Up in the air, in the vast emptiness and silence except for the sound of the Stearman’s motor, her courage returned. She could see things more clearly, accept the realities of life more easily when she was flying. It had something to do with looking down from space and seeing the smallness of the earth. The tumult of life vanished in minutes. How insignificant and vulnerable man really was in the greater context of the world and existence.

Chased by the coming of night, flying against time with the wind in her face, reaching her father was all Syrah cared about. She imagined herself holding his hand and kissing his forehead, telling him how much she loved him and that together they would fight for his life. If there were to be a death tonight, it would not be Ethan’s. He would never leave her without saying goodbye. The grim reaper would have to wait for another day. No less distressed, she at least for the moment conquered her fear of what she might have to face: the reality of Ethan’s situation and consequently her own.

Syrah considered Château Richebourg-Conti, its vineyards and winery that were her home, the roots from whence she sprung. That was the way Ethan had always made her feel in spite of her deserting it, except for Christmas, other holidays and flying visits to be with her father. A terrifying thought took hold of her then and tears came to her eyes, the wind spreading them across her cheeks. She was virtually estranged from her brother Caleb, his wife Paula and their children. What if Ethan did die? What if she, Caleb and his wife did not come together in their grief? She would then be made unwelcome at Richebourg-Conti, sent away from the family home, the haven that had
always been there for her. Her brother and sister-in-law, who only just tolerated Syrah and were no more than stiffly civil to Keoki because Ethan demanded it would surely cut them both out of their lives and what ought to be Keoki’s heritage. The very thought made Syrah feel sick at heart. She blanked it from her mind and concentrated on piloting her craft.

There were some blessings to this flight to the Valley: it was a warm night and they were experiencing a longer than usual sunset, the wind was behind them all the way and they were able to fly relatively low. Santa Barbara was behind them, Monterey could be made before dark, but it would be night and off in the distance San Francisco would be aglow with lights and looking like millions of stars had fallen from a galaxy as they made for Napa and then home to Richebourg-Conti.

Home: the Richebourg-Conti vineyard and château that she had always loved but had turned her back on because of a craving to live in a wider world. Syrah was suddenly aware that if her father did indeed die, Richebourg-Conti would no longer be her home.

The thought affected her profoundly. Suddenly she understood what a tremendous loss that would be for her. She had been living too fast and thrilling a life, one day at a time, to sit down and think about her attachment to Richebourg-Conti before this. It was a part of her ancestry, always there for her, as sure as there was a moon and a sun to guide her in life. Syrah had never thought before what would happen to Richebourg-Conti without Ethan. He
was
Richebourg-Conti, as his father and his grandfather before him, and so many generations of Richebourgs before them, had been.

The vineyards without Ethan there … A tremendous sense of foreboding came over Syrah. Caleb trying to step into their father’s shoes? Everything would change then, nothing would be the same for Richebourg-Conti. The idea was so overwhelming to her that it didn’t even occur to Syrah that with Ethan’s death everything else might change for her: the loss of fatherly and family love would leave her adrift and alone except for Keoki. The security of having Richebourg-Conti as the backbone of her life would be lost to her. And financial security? How long before that was cut off too?

She had never before appreciated that those things were the props on which she had built her life. With those sturdy foundations knocked
away from beneath her, where would she be? Fallen, destroyed! How would she and Keoki survive? Sheer terror gripped her then. Syrah’s confidence vanished. It was gone as if it had never existed. Her head throbbed with pain, her mouth went dry. The plane went into a dive. She gripped the Stearman’s controls as hard as she could until her fingernails cut into the palms of her hands and she pulled the plane up. The pain brought her back to the task at hand: getting to Richebourg-Conti safely and as fast as possible so as to be with Ethan. Fear would have to wait. So would the future and her fate.

Ethan had installed a beacon on the conical roof of one of the towers of Château Richebourg-Conti. The switch for both the beacon and the low-level lights marking out the grass air strip could be pressed in the library. The usual form was that Syrah would call in to announce her estimated arrival time. The beacon on, she would buzz the house and the lights to the air strip would be switched on. Normally by the time she had landed, Ethan or Mr Wang, the
major domo
who ran the château and most of her father’s private life, would be at the air strip having driven down from the house.

But these were not normal times at Richebourg-Conti, Syrah could see that even from the air: the beacon was on and every window in the house aglow with lamplight. As she flew low to buzz the house she could see people with flashlights on the tree-lined drive to the house, some carrying flowers. The terrace and steps to the front door were now nothing more than a narrow path flanked by flowers. At the end of the three-quarter-mile-long drive the gates stood open and several cars were parked there, presumably belonging to the winery and vineyard workers who were paying their respects with get well floral tributes.

That view of things was to bring home to Syrah just how bad things were and what a sad loss Ethan’s passing would be to so many people. No matter how strong she was being, how tightly she was holding herself under control, she was aware that her sense of self had deserted her. She was adrift, in pain and fear, and yet none of that mattered. Only her love for her father and surrounding him with that love did.

The lights sprang to life to either side of the air strip which was only a short drive from the house – a signal to her to swallow her pain and control her emotions, not only for her son’s sake but her father’s as well. She had to take on Ethan’s strength now, fight for him and his
life, give him the support he had always given her so as to help him until, hopefully, he was well enough to take control of his own life and recovery.

She circled the air field only once and set the plane down in a perfect landing. She cut the engine and, feeling quite drained of all emotions as well as exhausted by the flight, took several deep breaths as she watched a car’s headlights speeding across the field towards the bi-plane.

‘You all right?’ she shouted to Diana and Keoki.

‘OK Mom.’

‘Diana?’

‘Nothing worse than windswept and a little cramped. We’re just fine,’ she called back from the open forward seat of the plane.

The propeller was moving as if in slow motion now, a signal for Diana and Keoki to make a move. Diana pulled off the scarf tied around the hat she was wearing, removed the hat and shook out her hair. Hugging Keoki to her, she reminded him, ‘Remember, we’re going to stick together while we’re here and let your mom tend to your grandfather. Anything you want or need, you ask me or Mr Wang. Low profiles until Syrah tells us what’s happening and when you can see your grandfather. No tears, no demands. You need to do this for your mom and granddad.’

With that she kissed the boy she loved almost as much as if he were her own, the child she had always wanted from Ira, and combed his hair by running her fingers through it.

‘I’m not a baby, Diana. I understood all that when you told me before we climbed aboard in Malibu.’

Baby or not, she could not help but notice the tremor in his voice, the fear and sadness in his eyes. Then he kissed her briefly on the cheek and told her, ‘You’d better comb your hair and maybe put on some lipstick, we want to look as if we’re together, don’t we? Not let our side down. You’re an actress, it’s expected of you to look glamorous even when you’re sad.’

Diana very nearly burst into tears of pride at her godson’s behaviour. How long had he known that without Ethan the château might be nothing more for him than an enemy camp? Sometimes nine years old going on eighteen, she told herself.

The three of them were on the ground only a minute or two before Caleb arrived driving Ethan’s Second World War army jeep, the top down. It was a blow for Syrah to see her brother driving the jeep; no one but Ethan drove that vehicle usually. Everyone in the Valley knew that. There seemed to be three of them gazing with sadness and astonishment at Caleb, something cruel about his choice of transportation, taking the jeep even before Ethan was dead. Especially since it was a known fact he didn’t even like it.

Seeing Caleb already trying to step into her father’s shoes turned Syrah’s fear to anger. Visions of the past flashed before her eyes: she and Ethan arm-in-arm arriving at the winery; with nothing more than a look her father demanding and receiving at least cordiality, if nothing more, for her from his son and daughter-in-law. The Christmas picture taken every year: Ethan flanked by his daughter, son and daughter-in-law looking every inch the autocrat with a smile in his eyes, full of pride in himself and his family. The resentment on Caleb and Paula’s faces because Ethan controlled the Richebourg-Conti vineyards and winery and was one of the most respected names in the industry, producing one of the most prestigious and sought after wines to come out of the Napa Valley, was clearly visible. They wanted everything Ethan represented, all he had achieved.

Syrah bit into her lower lip, attempting to control her temper. Looking at her brother now she could not help but wonder what had happened to the sweet child she had grown up with who once had loved and cared for her. She thought now of that terrible confrontation she had had with him and Paula when she was pregnant with Keoki. She had wanted them to love and accept her, be her family. She had approached them, determined to talk out the problems they had with one another.

One afternoon when she was making a visit to the château she found herself alone with them in the garden. Remembering it now sent a shiver down her spine. She had just come out with it, ‘Caleb, why do you and Paula feel such hostility towards me? The not-so-subtle barbs you’re constantly throwing at me lead me to believe it stems from Ethan’s love for me and his acceptance of my lifestyle. Tell me that’s not true?’

Paula had replied, ‘Of course it’s true! As is our resentment over the vast sums of money you’ve received over the years from Richebourg-Conti. Both Caleb and I work for the family vineyard and winery, we
earn the money Ethan squanders on you! Whatever Syrah wants, Syrah gets! Not Caleb. Diversifying Richebourg-Conti’s holdings in the business schemes we put to Ethan might better all our lives. But, oh, no. Always the same excuse: Richebourg-Conti’s business is the grape, the Richebourgs are wine people to the depths of their soul and care for nothing but the wine industry. Excuses! We know it’s really Ethan’s favouritism for you that blinds him.’

Caleb’s words when he interrupted his wife’s diatribe rang now in Syrah’s ears as she faced her brother. ‘Paula and I love Ethan as much as you do, Syrah, in spite of the way he undermines our authority and keeps us from realising our potential. But does he love and support
us
? Maybe, in things that don’t really matter to us. And nowhere near the way he lavishes affection and money on you. In our eyes
he’s
guilty of favouritism and
your
selfish greed fans the flame. You’re a spoiled little bitch, Syrah. Always have been, always will be.’

But that confrontation was many years ago, she desperately told herself now. As Caleb leaped from the jeep to walk towards Syrah, he could see what she and Diana were thinking by the look that passed between the two women. He rather enjoyed their hesitation to say anything about his driving the jeep and experienced a cheap sense of triumph in showing them that he was in control of things. It was a clever cover-up for the emotional turmoil in his head and his heart. The fact was that Caleb and Paula were just as traumatised by Ethan’s illness as Syrah was, but for different reasons.

They were shocked that in a matter of hours, days at the most, he would be dead and gone forever and
they
would at last be in control of all of Richebourg-Conti. The years of dreaming, plotting and scheming to wrench control away from Ethan, the entrenched resentment, the peculiar sort of love-hatred they felt for his father, were at last over. Caleb’s time had come. The heir to the Richebourg-Conti throne would soon be wearing the crown he and Paula had worked so hard to take over. Now that he had what he wanted Caleb could afford to love his father as he had not done since he was a boy.

Sister and brother shook hands, Caleb patted Keoki on the head and greeted Diana cordially. ‘How’s Dad, Caleb?’ asked Syrah, a tremor of emotion in her voice.

Although he was no less resentful of his sister and what Ethan’s
indulgence towards her had cost him, he was nevertheless relieved that she was there to share the burden.

‘He’s in a shocking state but still with us, so be prepared and try and conceal your distress. Once Dad regained consciousness and could make himself understood he had only one thing to say: “Syrah”. He’s been repeating your name constantly. Nothing can calm him. There’ll be no peace for him or anyone in the house until you’re at his bedside. It’s as if all he’s living for is to have one last look at you. It’s unnerving and heartbreaking.’

They were all clambering into the jeep, Syrah struggling to hold back sobs of anguish as she asked, ‘When did Dad have his stroke?’

‘Let’s talk after you’ve seen him.’

They sped from the air strip to the house. The three new arrivals, still in their fleece-lined leather flying jackets, clung on tight to iron hand grips as they were bounced about roughly in that dreaded silence that only accompanies the coming of death.