Winemaker's Son

BOOM! The sound was deafening with echoes ricocheting through his brain and off every surface within a hundred yards. He blinked his eyes over and over hoping to get those streaks of blinding light out. Could it really be that he’d blown it up again?

When the immense gray cloud around him finally dispersed, he knew he’d done it, but seeing it was a whole different ball game. Ben could hear his mother yelling for him as she picked her way through the wreckage. Her voice sounded desperate.

Benny! Benny, are you all right? Where are you?

Through the incessant ringing in his ears, he could hear his giggling, younger sisters right behind her and dreaded what they would say. And he’d heard it all before. Ben shook his head, dislodging dirt that had settled on him everywhere and tested his arms and legs, to see if all parts still worked. He had an acrid, slightly chemical taste on his tongue and breathed dust up his nose. Yep, time to get moving.

Over here, Mom, he called.

Ben tentatively pushed himself up off the blackened ground where he found himself, stretched carefully by moving one appendage at a time, and picked his way gingerly out of the shambles. Looking around, all he could see though the haze was the rubble of boards and timber that lay at his feet. A gray cloud of fine dust particles coated his skin, his clothes, the rubble and ground for yards in every direction. It was a big, fat mess.

Looking off into the distance, his vision finally cleared enough to see the vineyard with his home on one side. All was still well… Whew! He thought he’d blown that up as well… The huge, white house that had first been his grandfather’s was where Ben had lived all his life. He was as rooted to the area as the grapevines growing out of the ground. If anything had happened to his home, well… it was just unthinkable.

Ben was a science nut and had been for as long as he could remember. He’d been conducting little experiments in his bedroom until his mom moved him out of the house. When he needed shelves to put supplies, his dad rigged up a shack for him on the back part of the property. Many things in the scientific world fascinated him but water… in drought-stricken California being so necessary to his family’s business, captured his interest and held it. However, and from time to time, his chemicals didn’t always get along… and BOOM!

Benny! His mother was there now, checking for herself if all his limbs still functioned. Are you okay?

Yeah, Mom… Fine.

I’ll be the judge of that. She poked him here and there, bending an arm, moving a leg. Brushing the dirt and dust off him, she tried again. Benny, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Dust fell from him like rain as he coughed and sneezed.

What?

Getting you that beginner’s chemistry set. This is the second time this year you’ve blown up your lab.

Don’t tell Dad, he whined.

Melissa blinked at him, astonished. Are you kidding? Take a look around. The shack is in ruins with the ground around it scorched. She tilted up his face to take a good look. …Much like your eyebrows, I might add. How in the heck do you suppose we could keep it from him if we wanted to?

She put her hands on her hips and gave him that look. That Mother look that told him, Maybe we should rethink this madness. Melissa wearily shook her head.

You look just like your father, you talk just like your father, but you are no more like Scott Granger than the man in the moon.

… Man in the moon?

Melissa continued moving his arms and legs, still checking if all parts were intact.

His pesky sisters made their noisy way through the debris to stand just behind their mother. Mary looked seriously at him for a minute, a finger tapping thoughtfully on her chin. She looked around at the huge mess, a scowl on her face. Lizzie didn’t even try to hide it. Her smile was on high beams when she put her hands on her stomach and howled. Laughter echoed around his brain with the last vestiges of the explosion… and his dignity. His pounding head pounded a little harder.

Benny, you’re such an idiot! Lizzie’s mouth opened and stayed open. Her auburn hair flew around her contorted face as her body twisted with laughter.

And you wrecked that nice little house that Daddy made for you, added Mary. Her lips pursed with dark eyes disapproving. I was hoping to use it for a playhouse when you were done with it.

Lizzie continued to giggle. …Don’t think you’ll be doing that now, Mar… And she collapsed on the ground pretending to be hurt. …Oooo…Awww… the pain…the pain! She grabbed her leg and soothed a make-believe wound.

Lizzie, you’re not being helpful, turning this into a one-act play, said Melissa. Get up and let’s help Benny out of here.

You could have harmed the grapes too, complained Mary as she glanced around the area. The vineyard is way more important that your stupid chemistry experiments.

Okay, girls. Enough. Let’s help now, criticize later.

Mary and Melissa each took an arm as they slowly dragged him out of the wreckage all around them. They picked their way very carefully through boards, dirt and dust in case any other shards decided to come tumbling down.

Grab that bag for me, Lizzie, he yelled over his shoulder. She stuck her tongue at him but bent down to pick up a brown backpack, a bit scorched and covered with dirt, out of a pile of filthy, shredded wood and shingles.

Your grandfather would be having a fit, if he were still with us, muttered his mother.

Grandpa Walt always encouraged me to build things, Mom and to figure things out. Remember how we always worked with Legos?

Melissa smiled. He was wonderful, Benny, you’re right, but I don’t think he’d like you blowing up the property and endangering our lives.

He started to object and she stopped, holding out a hand to block him. She waved her other hand around at the scene before her.

This isn’t working out. I know you want to help with the vineyards in your way, but we need to figure out what your way could be. Let’s talk to your father – He might be able to think of something.

Like what?

Well, there’s scientific study done with plants, grapes and water, you know. Maybe we could find a more appropriate place for you to learn about all this. Melissa turned to look at him again. What do you say to that, Benny?

His face scrunched and his lips formed a hard line. …Okay, I guess.

Later that night after dinner, his parents came to his room and knocked on the door. He was lying in bed reading a book about the complexities of soil composition. Engrossed, he lifted his head to listen. There was a louder knock and he got up to open the door. Scott and Melissa were out in the hallway, his father looked stern and his mother cheerful.

Ben, may we come in? asked his father.

Sure, Dad.

Ben plopped on his bed, while his parents came in and found seats.

Benny, we’ve been talking, began his mother.

…Figured that, he muttered to himself.

Listen, son, said Scott, we need to channel this scientific bent of yours before you blow up our home.

You want me to stop? Ben looked wistfully up into his father’s face. Blue eyes blinked back at similar blue eyes. He thought they did look very much alike, like his mother said. Ben hadn’t paid much attention until now. And, at least, his dad didn’t look too mad – this time.

We’ve been gathering information for a while, and we found a magnet school attached to the university for students wanting to focus on science and math. I’ve made some inquiries and you’re eligible, if you’d like to attend. His father paused with knit brows.

What do you think, Benny? You can conduct your experiments at the university in a safe, supervised environment. Melissa glanced at Scott and back to her son. Benny?

It focuses on science and math?

…Yes.

Could I…

Listen, Ben, said Scott. I’ve got a booklet for you in the living room. Read it through and see what you think. It’s a good option.

He thought about that for a minute, straightened and looked his dad in the eye.

I’d have to leave my school.

Yes, this would be a new school.

…I’d be leaving my friends.

Scott nodded. …But you can see your friends after school. This is about as good a deal as we can find for you, buddy. You’re going to have to meet us halfway.

You won’t let me experiment here at the winery anymore.

No, son. You really need a better environment, if you want to continue what you’re doing. You know I’d prefer that you follow in my footsteps and become chief winemaker at Granger Winery, but I just don’t see that happening, do you?

Benny sadly shook his head. No, Dad. I’m sorry. Maybe Mary or Lizzie…

Scott laughed. Lizzie? Only if we make a theater out of the winery.

…And Mary? added Melissa. Who knows? This week she’s learning to play the guitar. Her usually smiling face was subdued and she glanced at her husband. With equally set expressions, they turned to Ben.

He sat up straight on his bed and nodded grudgingly… still unsure. He scratched his head and flicked some lint off his comforter.

Okay, I’ll try it – If it doesn’t work, can I go back to my old school?

Yes, honey, if that’s what you want.

But Benny didn’t really know what he wanted. After all, he was only eleven.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

NINETEEN YEARS LATER

Dr. Granger, a timid voice said. Do you have those results yet? When there was no response, the voice tried again. Um… You know, on fine particle dispersion?

Ben opened his eyes and shook his head to clear out the daydreams. Standing in the middle of the university lab, Ben happily looked around him. The laboratory was the largest in the well-anointed science building with ongoing research being conducted. Painted a soft white with a high ceiling, the lab had rows of counters with containers, computers, microscopes and other equipment that stood at the ready. The overhead lighting was sharp with air conditioning ducts running alongside the horizontal lights. Sinks, beakers and many samples patiently waited.

His lab… This was his lab and it had been his exclusive lab since obtaining his doctorate and publishing those influential findings in science journals on the chemistry of water. Universities had vied for him and he chose the one who’d offered the best resources, not the most money.

Sure, Angie. He reached over to a counter where a thick report lay. Picking it up, Ben proudly skimmed through a few typed pages, smiled again and handed it to her. Here you go… Hot off the press.

Angie blew out a deep breath as she took it from him. Thanks, professor. She stuck the report deep into the leather satchel she carried. That guy in the Lake Tahoe research center has been after me to get this from you.

Ben reached for a new glass slide to put in his microscope. Irritated, he glanced her way. Which guy? Dr. Taylor?

He’s the head researcher.

Yep, that’s Taylor. He just called me yesterday.

And today they want that report.

He mused, Wonder what the rush is…

No one tells me anything. She shrugged. I’m just the gopher.

That made him laugh. As a grad assistant, she was easy to work with and he appreciated that. He watched her juggle the satchel and a box to be mailed as she hurried out the door. Getting back to work, Ben forgot Angie and the report because there was more to be done with his erosion study that included fine sediments, nutrient pollution and phytoplankton. He buckled down to recheck his calculations and findings. The lab was quiet and serene, just how Ben liked it. The only sound was cooled air softly blowing out of an air conditioning vent and the occasional clink of glass on metal.

He worked diligently for a few satisfying hours, studying slides, doing analyses and marking findings in his computer and notebook. His mind whirled through calculations and sifted knowledge needed for the work at hand. He’d just put in a new slide when a tall man strode briskly into the lab, business manner evident. Nicely dressed in a suit and tie, the man glanced around the sterile environment and walked quickly over to Ben.

Dr. Granger.

Ben had watched him out of the corner of his eye. He looked up from his microscope. Dean Pritchard. How are you today?

Fine, fine. Pritchard waved a hand in the air and began pacing. The space between counters wasn’t roomy enough and he bumped into a chair, knocking it over. Sorry… He righted the chair and rubbed his hands together, brushing off the dust.

You don’t look so fine.

I’m just irritated is all. His breathing was a little too rapid.

…About what?

The foundation who gave the university this grant you’re working under has pressed for more results. He began to play with a ring on his hand.

I just finished a conclusive study on soil particles. Didn’t Angie give you a copy?

Yes, yes, but Dr. Granger, Ben… They want more field research done.

Ben shrugged. Okay. Give the assignment to the research guys in the Tahoe Center. That’s what they do.

No. They want the author of the study to conduct the on-site research.

Pritchard nodded as Ben blinked, astonished.

Go to Lake Tahoe? You’re kidding. Why?

Like an architect who draws up the blueprints, he goes on site to check the progress.

To follow your analogy here, the architect doesn’t build the house he drew.

No, but you’ll be assisted by a couple of researchers familiar with this kind of work.

"I’ll be assisted? Me? His voice squeaked up a few decibels. He swiveled his stool around to look at Pritchard. I’m not field personnel."

The dean nodded again and nervously picked up a piece of paper, set it back down. Ben, the foundation is threatening to pull the grant if the research isn’t done to their precise specifications.

"…And that includes sending