Eau de Vie: chapter eleven
Une promenade inoubliable
The evening’s dinner ended happily, but exhaustion set in before the table could be cleared and dishes done. Carl and Vie had gone straight to bed, ignoring for the first time in their marriage their nightly routines.
When Carl awoke in the early morning, he was greeted by the lingering smell of pot-au-feu, and dishes and pans strewn everywhere between the kitchen and dining room. He had neither the energy nor inclination to tackle any of the cleaning and putting away. He set instead to brewing a large pot of coffee and warming some scones in the toaster oven. Carl texted Kate for help, not something he would normally have done, but the day ahead was a monumental one, and he needed support. Chaos was not part of the plan. Things needed to be in their prescribed places so that every bit of his psyche could be focused on Vie.
Kate, unaware of what lay ahead, though finally in the loop about Vie’s terminal illness, came over within the hour, happy to help. At 9:00 a.m. Carl and Kate sat down for a quick breakfast at the end of the table not littered with dirty dishes, and Carl laid out all he needed in the way of assistance. Kate sensed his need for privacy and asked no questions.
After Carl drove to town to run errands, Kate cleared the breakfast dishes, then headed downstairs to start laundry and touch up with an iron an outfit Carl had laid out for Vie — a rib knit dress in soft gray, with long sleeves and a turtleneck. Kate then came up and put the kitchen and dining room to rights, divided the dinner leftovers into single-serving containers, cleared the table, washed and dried pans, took out garbage, and made all surfaces spotless. Permeating the stagnant air in the house was the lingering aroma of last evening’s cooking, so Kate cracked open windows and boiled a pot of spice-infused water. She then tidied up the bathroom, gathering spent towels and washcloths and putting out fresh ones. After ironing, Kate quietly hung Vie’s fresh-pressed dress and black velvet vest on the back of the bedroom door.
Carl had returned and was unpacking groceries: a few of Vie’s favorite cheeses, some prosciutto, a baguette, a hazelnut milk chocolate bar, and some fresh strawberries. Carl had laid out the wicker picnic basket, and in it placed the bottle of Eau de Vie, cloth napkins, and a small plastic plate. He then began the task of cutting the cheeses into bite-size pieces, wrapping bits of melon with prosciutto, and slicing the baguette into wafer-thin slices. All would go into one of their ancient Tupperware containers, the bread into a zip-lock bag.
Even as the household was abuzz with activity, Vie slept soundly. At noon, Kate departed.
The day prior, Vie had packed some quilts and three pillows into Carl’s thru-hiking pack and set it in the hall next to the front door, along with her walking sticks and their hiking boots. Also in the backpack: a collection of her medications and a thermos of water.
The time was near for Carl to wake Vie. He toasted and buttered an English muffin to which he added two generous spoonfuls of orange marmalade and made a large mug of coffee with steamed milk and a bit of sugar. He put all on a tray and took it into the bedroom. Vie, though groggy, was aroused by the smell of the coffee and, with Carl’s help and a few pillows, propped herself up in bed. Carl set the breakfast tray on the side table next to her.
Vie was remarkably hungry despite her rapidly growing weakness. In no time, she had consumed half of the muffin, and all of the coffee, and that was enough. With Carl’s help, she got up, then decided to proceed with her normal morning routine. She would be ready for their hike in a half hour. Before heading into the bathroom, Vie laid out her favorite cargo pants and softest lavender T-shirt, the same clothes she had worn when she met Kate, though on this cool winter day, she would be adding a navy fleece jacket, hat, and gloves.
Carl also got himself outfitted for the hike, then helped Vie with her wool socks and boots after getting on his own. At 1:30 p.m., they were ready to set out. The goal was to reach Vie’s favorite spot, Picture Rocks, in time to enjoy their picnic provisions and watch the sun set over the ranch.
It was to be a long and arduous hike — one that would have been difficult even for a more youthful hiker. The congestive heart failure made every step a monumental effort. Yet, despite the pain, making it to this location one last time, a location that had witnessed so many of the turning points in Carl and Vie’s lives, was crucial to her. This last journey was Vie’s promenade inoubliable.
At every turn in their slow walk, Vie felt she could go no further. She stopped frequently to gather strength, taking time to fill her lungs with oxygen. The pauses also gave her the opportunity to breathe in for one last time the beautiful smells of the mountain: earthy soil, the damp of moss, softly acrid animal musks, and the minty, woody scent of white sage — all of it part of her bittersweet farewell.
Vie did not want to leave the ranch or her life with Carl, but she could not stay. Her body sang a lament, the downward trajectory of its melody pulling her toward that chosen spot at the big rocks.
It was at the outlook that Carl prepared Vie’s resting place against the boulders. On many occasions, they had stopped there to enjoy the scenery and eat. It was also where they wept about their miscarriage, celebrated the completion of their house, and where they rekindled their connections to the ranch after an emotionally draining trip to Germany.
Before Vie was the vast expanse of their property — the mountains and forests, the chaparral, and all manner of birds flying overhead. Carl laid out a thick quilt on the ground, then helped Vie get down, positioning the pillows to make her as comfortable as possible and to keep out the damp from the rocks. He gently wrapped Vie in the last quilt, the one made by her grandmother, with faded squares of fabric from Vie’s childhood dresses. Carl then hand-fed Vie small bites of her favorite foods, but left her to take by her own hand the medications that would transition her seamlessly to that next place.
As the sun began its descent, Carl held Vie in his arms. Slowly, she drank the special draught she had put together, then followed it with a sip of the Eau de Vie. Her final taste would be of pear, so like the taste of Carl’s warm mouth.
Carl kissed Vie on the forehead one last time, then gathered up the picnic remains and Vie’s walking sticks. She would no longer need them.
He then made his way down the mountain, arriving home just as the sun set behind the mountains and the ranch was enveloped in darkness.
(ुŏ̥̥̥̥ ‸ ŏ̥̥̥̥) ु
More to say later. For now just tears - tears for Kate, tears for Carl, tears for Vie