"Marie, can I help you with anything?" I always loathe when I'm a guest at people's house and they never let me help them with the chores after a meal! I know it's done as a gesture to be nice, take make the guest feel special. But honestly, it just makes me feel uneasy; it makes me feel like an intruder. Thankfully, Hope and I have reached that stage in our relationship where we put one another to work at the house. It's never declared, but it's a comfortable implication.

"Non, non! Beverly, I insist that you, Jean Luc, and Wesley make your way out into the vineyards! Take advantage of the cool morning air before it heats up today and the sun becomes unbearable!" I smile halfheartedly as she disappears into the kitchen. A warm hand tugs me out of my chair and a very handsome, tall man encourages me out of my seat. "Come on," he whispers. "I want to show you and Wes the vineyard."

"Should we leave Saoirse and Aaron?" I call to Marie over his shoulder. I look over into the living room with a smile; I think it's the time difference, but after breakfast the two little munchkins fell right back to sleep. I smirk; I'm going to have to find something to do with them before this evening or they'll never sleep through the night!

"Ouis," Marie floats out of the kitchen, "no need to wake the little ones. I'll look after them! It will be my pleasure. It's been too long since I've had babies in the house!"

"You're sure?" I ask for posterity as big hands enclose themselves around my waist.

"Beverly," she shoos us with a broad grin, "go!"

/

"Where are Robert and Renee?" I look around as we leave the house.

Jean Luc blushes as I look over at him, "I, eh, well – I wanted this time to be just the three of us. Also, Renee had a school event in town and Robert took him."

"Oh Jean Luc," I hug him close to me and nuzzle his shoulder. Not a moment later I hear the door once again shut behind us, "So, Jean Luc, where to first? Robert showed me the plan of the vineyard and it's huge!"

"That it is," he laughs as we start walking in tandem, "I used to resent how big it was during the harvest time. Father thought it prudent to put us two boys to work collecting the grapes. In fact, I hated the late summer, early autumn months! Robert and I would spend all day in school, then we'd have to rush home, drop our bags by the door, and join Father in the vineyards. He'd give us these big sac cloth bags and it was our job to carefully pick the grapes," he stops in the middle of the row, showing Wes the beginning of the grape crop. "And then we'd have to haul them to that building," he stands up and points to a large stone building at the end of the vines, "where they would be processed."

Wes turns with a confused look in his face, "but I thought that big machines were used to pick the grapes off the vines? Why did you have to do it?"

Jean Luc laughs. "Yes. All the other vineyards, including this one now, use big tractors to shake the grapes off the vines, but Father thought we needed to learn the value of hard work… and chronic sunburn…" he finishes wryly.

"So," Wes continues walking in front of us, "you finished collecting the grapes in October?!"

"Well actually," Jean Luc points over Wes' shoulder, "no. We'd really finish in late November. You see that crop over there, just before the stone fence at the edge of the property?"

Wes shields his eyes from the oncoming sun, "Those in the distance surrounded by the lilacs?"

"Yes," Jean Luc answers. "They're sort of set apart from all the others. We'd let that crop ripen a good deal. Father enjoyed making two kinds of wine. The greater part of the crop, like the one that we're walking amid now, is used for making a merlot, but those grapes from that little area are used to make the most unique aperitif."

"Aperitif?" Wes asks.

"Yes," Jean Luc says with a smile, "A desert wine. I don't think you've tried on of the Picard aperitifs yet. Most of them are sold for a high price on the market, so we keep very little of what we make – a few bottles at most. But, they are exquisite!"

Jean Luc smiles and laughs at his own memory. "I remember how hard it was to harvest those grapes. By November, they were so ripe, so deliciously sugary. As Robert and I grew older, Father was hesitant to send us to do the harvesting; he was afraid we'd eat all the grapes before we got them to the presser!"

Wes is laughing, "Did you eat all the grapes?"

"Almost! One year, the crop yield was already low due to a mild freeze, but the remaining grapes were superb! Robert and I ate a good deal and I remember how irate father was! He didn't speak with us for a week."

Wesley's laughter begins and joins Jean Luc's. But then he asks quite seriously, "Jean Luc it doesn't sound like you had that bad of a relationship with your father…"

His hand tightens over my own. I've been silent this whole time, simply enjoying their banter and their conversation. Sometimes, I'm just content to listen and to get lost in their merriment. "Well, sometimes our relationship was alright… but eh," I can tell the memory is difficult for him. "Well, father was – he was, choleric. I don't know if that's even the right word. Maybe you, Beverly," he squints at me, moving in momentarily to lay a kiss on my temple, "would know the correct term. But, sometimes he was elated and happy, and then without warning he'd be angry, sullen. And, drinking would only enhance his mood swings."

"Was he bipolar?" I ask.

"I don't know… he didn't much believe in doctors. But, well, knowing what we know now about my family's neural physiology, it might have been early onset Irumodic Syndrome." Wesley stops walking and turns back to Jean Luc. I mirror his action and pull him to a stop as well. I look at him; he seems afraid, sheepish.

"Jean Luc," I touch his cheek. "His fate isn't yours. Medicine has advanced and we already silenced the gene."

I see Wes take Jean Luc's hand, "It's not going to happen to you. We won't let it happen."

"Thank you," his whispers. "I'm so scared that I'll become him and I don't want that for you," he looks at Wes and me. "Or for Aaron or Saoirse. I-" he looks down, "I never knew that he was suffering from a disease, but I hated him – resented him. I always thought that my father hated me and preferred Robert. It's true that they had more in common." He reaches out and touches a nearby vine, "While I dreamt about the stars, Robert sat at my father's feet and gleaned knowledge about soil conditions, bottling time, the aging process of the grape… I think my father thought that I didn't care and he responded to my nonchalance about the family business with coldness… But the truth is that I just had a different focus."

"Jean Luc," Wes moves in close, "I know your dad loved you. He just had a hard time showing it. He just didn't understand you… I'm sorry."

I didn't expect it, but Jean Luc moves away from me and folds Wes into an embrace that Wes readily returns. "I don't want that for you, Wes," I hear him say. "I know that I was hard on you in the past and that sometimes, even now, I push you to do things. But that's only because I want the best for you. I don't ever want you to doubt that I love you deeply and that I would do anything for you."

Tears build behind my eyes at their tenderness. My previous relationships and my marriage to Jack made me look upon men as steely, unemotional, and undemonstrative of their passion. But, this man in front of me has shown me that a man can be as strong as an iron bulwark, but at the same time show love without hesitation and without detraction from his masculinity. And, what is more, he's shown that to Wesley, for which I am eternally and fully grateful.

I see them wipe away their shared tears and smile. A warm hand once again tugs at my own, "Let's go see the presser and the casks. I'm sure Robert won't mind if we open a bottle."

I smile and gesture, "Lead on".