The Rhythm Method

The bright sunlight streamed down onto the cool spring morning, awakening Charlotte early. Jeff arose and left her apartment shortly thereafter, suddenly announcing that he was going to be away for the rest of the weekend. In truth she was glad about that. They had little in common except their work, and she wondered once again why she stayed with him. Even as she had the thought she banished it. He was everything she aspired to be; rich, successful and popular, both professionally and personally.

Feeling restless, she decided to go out for a drive and spend some time working on her journal. She had first started writing in it as an exercise at college, where her boyfriend had insisted she keep one. She smiled thinking of him. He had been her teacher, her mentor, and her lover, and had taught her more than just the science involved in viticulture and oenology. He had taught her about the passion of life, and finding the things she was passionate about.

She packed some apples and a couple of cookies into a small backpack and headed out the door. She drove south through the outskirts of the small town to where an open field bordered a creek that she had found when she had first moved here to work at the winery. She pulled to the side of the road and parked her car on the shoulder, just before the tiny bridge that passed over the small span of water. Grabbing her backpack, she climbed between the wooden bars of the fence and crossed the corner of the field to a weeping willow that beckoned her like an old friend.

She had gotten herself settled on the mossy bank and taken out her journal when she heard the whinny and smiled. She hadn't seen the old horse when she arrived. Taking an apple from her bag, she got up from the hidden spot that she favored and stepped back out into the sunshine. The old horse stomped his foot at her, causing her to laugh. "I didn't forget you," she said softly while feeding the horse his apple and rubbing his nose.

"I'm sorry I haven't been down here for a while," she said as she stroked his long neck. She was rewarded with a snort and nuzzle at her shoulder. Running her fingers through his mane, she untangled the worst knots and gave him the attention he seemed to enjoy. She had been frightened by the big roan when she had first started coming to this spot and had brought him apples in an effort to bribe him into a pseudo friendship. She now realized how much she enjoyed their little ritual when she came down to the creek.

The horse's ears pricked up as if he heard something she couldn't and he turned his head. Charlotte had never seen an owner come to see the horse when she had been here, but as she patted his neck once more she had no doubt he was well looked after for an aging horse. The horse snorted and turned, moving away from her. Charlotte looked to see what had caught his attention, and she saw a small figure at the other end of the field. Not wanting to be accused of trespassing, she slipped back into the shadows and hoped she had not been seen. She went back to where she had left her things and quickly grabbed her backpack, wanting to head back to her car.

She could see the horse's owner jogging at a light pace toward her as she emerged from under the tree and headed toward her car. Turning as she maneuvered through the wooden posts of the fence, she saw the big man and the horse close the distance between them. As she looked with wide eyes, the man stopped in his tracks and the horse cantered happily toward her, leaning over the fence to nuzzle at her empty hand.

"I'm sorry," she began to say, "I didn't mean any harm." Charlotte's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wider still as she looked into the dark, brooding face of Ralph Watson. She backed up toward her car as he advanced. "I just gave him an apple to let me sit near the creek," she tried to explain in a small frightened voice. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, repeating herself and getting into her car and driving off. Ralph had not said a word.

Ralph felt conflicting emotions as he watched the car pull away. This was his place, his escape from life at the winery and all that it signified. It was bad enough for his place to be violated, but by her? By Charlotte? It was as if fate was using him as a punching bag and enjoying every moment of it. His anger was softened just the slightest bit by replaying her interaction with Sir Charles in his mind. The affection she displayed was so out of character with the cold temperament she displayed at work. It was hard to believe that was the same woman he despised so much.

He realized something else about the encounter, too. Charlotte had taken his breath away. He hadn't even realized it was her at first. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a cotton blouse that she wore as a jacket, her garb was quite uncharacteristic of the Charlotte that Ralph knew. She was wearing her long hair down, unusual for her, and the bright sunlight had shone off her curls, giving her an angel like appearance. She was beautiful, Ralph thought.

Fuck, he thought to himself as he guided Sir Charles toward the stables. Chuck, as Ralph affectionately referred to him, had been one of his father's investments. Like many of those investments, it was a bust. He had hoped the horse would have had a productive career as a thoroughbred and as a stud, but it didn't work out. The horse had ended up being a pet to Ralph, and one of the few things he was able to keep with his parent's passing. Ralph had tried to sell Sir Charles, but the horse had such limited value that, in the end, he decided to keep him. A big part of Ralph was happy there were no buyers, but it did require him to spend most weekends at the stables, working for the owners in exchange for boarding the horse.

Ralph wanted to spend some time grooming Chuck before he continued his chores at the stables. He was busy brushing the horse when he sensed someone nearby. Looking up, he noticed a familiar face watching as he worked.

"You work at my winery," Frank Price said, surprising Ralph that he'd recognized him.

Ralph nodded. "Yeah. I work down in the cellars, Mr. Price."

Frank nodded thoughtfully. "What are you doing here at the stables? Do you work here too?"

"I do on weekends," replied Ralph. "Sir Charles here belongs to me, and I work as a stable hand on weekends in exchange for his boarding."

"Sir Charles? You're not Bill Watson's son, are you?"

Ralph grimly nodded. "I am. Sir Charles is pretty much all I have left of my parents, other than my memories."

"I'm so sorry," Frank offered. "What a tragedy. I knew Bill had a son, but I never knew what became of him. Of you."

Ralph nodded, continuing to groom his horse.

"I've been considering adding a stable to the winery," Frank continued. "Taking tour groups on a horse drawn carriage ride through the vineyards could be a real draw for us. No one else is really doing that around here."

"It sounds like a great idea. You could do that most of the year."

"That's what I've been thinking...what was your name again?"

"Ralph."

"That's what I've been thinking, Ralph. I think it could attract customers to the winery that we might otherwise not get."

"If you decide to do it," noted Ralph, "I'd be willing to do the same deal I have here. If you would board Sir Charles, I'd work the stables on weekends for you. I'd be able to see him more often if he were close by like that."

"I'll keep that in mind, Ralph," said Frank. He held out a hand to the big man, and Ralph wiped his hand on his jeans before shaking with Frank. "I'm just going to poke around a bit before I head out, Okay?"

Sure," replied Ralph, returning to his grooming of Sir Charles.

Ralph put the encounter with Charlotte out of his mind as best he could as he went on with his work, but it continued to gnaw at his subconscious mind. He didn't finish until the orange glow of the setting sun lit up the western sky, then quietly drove home in the deepening dusk. He arrived at his dark apartment, not bothering to turn on a light. He opened the refrigerator, the light illuminating his lumbering form as he searched for something that would whet his appetite. Seeing nothing of interest, Ralph reached for a beer, twisting open the top and taking a long swig as the fridge door swung closed and cast him into darkness. By memory, he made his way over to the couch and plopped down, sitting alone in the dark and drinking his beer.

"What a fucking life," he said to no one.

He briefly considered calling Tammy, but thought better of it. Fucking wasn't going to make him feel any better tonight, he thought. In fact, he might well end up hurting her if she were here. He needed a change, he realized, or he wasn't going to survive. Ralph stood, taking a long last pull from the beer bottle, and then hurled it across the room. The sound of a thud and the raining down of broken glass filled the room as the bottle shattered on the far wall.

With a grunt, Ralph walked into the bedroom and pulled off his boots. Not bothering to even get undressed, he flopped face down onto the bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. "Fucking-A," he said, then pulled the pillow over his head and settled in for the night.

Monday morning came all too soon for the workers of Twisted Vines. The staff, all careful of the time, made their way to the lunchtime meeting in the large events rooms just before eleven. As they entered the large room, each gave their name and occupation and were given a table number at which to sit. Being a large award winning winery, there were nine tables, each with eight place settings. The seemingly random numbers given to the staff were actually designed to ensure that that no one clique was able to sit together.

Suzette and her personal assistant had spent weeks devising a way to split the groups fairly in a way that would not be seen as providing favoritism to any one group, with the exception of the winemakers themselves. Their vast experience made them virtually irreplaceable. Even so, Suzette had ideas about that as well, but her husband would require some convincing. It was with a critical eye that she watched the confused staff members take their seats. For the most part, people seemed to be happy enough with their lunch companions, although she saw one or two trouble spots. She spoke quietly with her assistant, seeking the names of several individuals that appeared to be the most disruptive.

Horrified beyond belief, Charlotte tried to disguise her dismay as she watched Ralph lumber towards their table. One look at his face told her he was not at all impressed with the situation either. As he took his seat, she immediately turned her gaze to the raised dais where Suzette seemed deep in conversation with her pretty blonde assistant. She turned to face her lunch companions. There was one other assistant winemaker, three cellar masters, and three cellar rats. She could name them all, but she knew very little about them as people.

Suzette stood and approached the lectern on the dais and started her well-rehearsed spiel. "Welcome everyone, to what I believe will be the beginning of a truly wonderful team building experience," she said, pausing to look around the room. "Please take the time to get to know the people at your table, as it will be important later on. For now, we have devised a wonderful three course meal for you all to share. You will notice you have a clean skin bottle of wine on your tables. Your group challenge during the meal is for each table to come up with a name, a tag line, and for those of you feeling creative, pencils and paper have been provided to design your label. Enjoy," she said finally, spreading her arms and inviting them to eat. She observed during her little spiel the murmurs of discontent, once again noting the people who seemed the most disconcerted.

"One final note," Suzette said before stepping away. "You may have noticed the absence of Mr. Whitehead today. He was in disagreement with my husband and I about this exercise. For that, and for several other reasons that I shall not get into here, Mr. Whitehead has been discharged of his responsibilities here at the winery.

"I assure each and every one of you that we are entirely serious about what we are doing here. You will either be a part of the solution, or you can take your issues elsewhere. It is not our intent to frighten you, but we do insist that you understand we are serious in our desires. Now please, enjoy your meals, and have fun with the first exercise."

Ralph recalled a conversation he had with Sam earlier that morning. If he wanted to keep his job, he was going to have to play along. He wished that he could just pack up and leave this fucking shithole of a place, but that wasn't an option. He supposed he would try to make the best of a bad situation, because he really had no other options. Hell, maybe he would surprise some of these assholes. It was clear they took him for a Neanderthal, but he was one hell of a lot smarter than any of them realized. Fucking assholes think they know everything about a person just by looking at him, he thought to himself. At that moment, it was lost on him that he did the exact same thing.

Jack Warner, took up the bottle and with smile and pronounced, "Let the games begin!" Charlotte couldn't help but giggle. She liked the other assistant she had been seated with and decided to ignore the hulk that sat brooding at her table. Jack was an amiable middle aged man who was happy to play host and lead the discussion, pooling everyone's ideas and cajoling people into talking. Charlotte was grateful. As much as she had tried over the last week to get to know names and be pleasant to the cellar workers, this was out of her comfort zone.

To her surprise Ralph was quite vocal as he expressed his views, "White wine is the equivalent of cat piss usually, but I don't mind the Sauvignon Semillon blend. This one almost tastes like passion fruit."

"Excellent," Jack enthused, "Anyone else get that?"

"Well I was thinking tropical but passion fruit works now that I think about," one of the cellar masters agreed and there was a murmur of assent around the table.

"So Charlotte, you usually have a good palette. What do you think?" Jack asked, trying to get her to take the lead with him.

"Well," she said cautiously, "I have to agree with err.... Ralph," she said, peeking up at him with her big green eyes and quickly looking away again. "Passion fruit and maybe something citrusy, like a hint of lime?" She questioned the others at the table rather than dictating like Ralph had done. "It reminds me of long hot summer days. It's very refreshing." She tried to avoid being scientific or seem dismissive in her appraisal by using the language of the winemakers, which might have gone over the other's heads. "Does it say on the label the percentages and general statistics?" She asked, wanting to know but not wanting to alienate the rest of the table.

Jack rattled off all of the information on the clean skin label, and to her surprise both the cellar masters and rats were quite knowledgeable on the subject of wines and their make-up. She had always considered that their job consisted of "Here hold this" or "Clean that up". Charlotte realized in that moment what a snob she truly had been. She sat back to listen with a new perspective to the other people at their table, only adding more detail when they had not understood the information that had been given on the label.

For his part, the brooding Ralph let himself get involved in something that challenged his mind rather than his muscles. He found he liked that the other people at the table seemed to listen to his ideas, noting that even the bitchy Charlotte seemed to pay attention to him. His memory held the picture of her as she had been on Saturday morning and it made him see her a little differently each time she spoke. He considered for the first time if Sam had been right about his prejudices toward her.

The entree and main meal came and went, and the group had decided on the name and the tagline. Jack gave every member of the table a piece of the remaining paper, asking them to draw a label during dessert. The completed labels were to be presented at the end of the luncheon.

Charlotte worked quickly with the pencil, producing a classic label with the winery's coat of arms as the main focus. She glanced around the table, seeing several others had produced basic labels with drawings of grapes or vineyards. She could not quite see what Ralph was up to, as his massive hand blocked her view of the paper he was drawing on. His fingers moved with surprising dexterity. They looked like sausages, and yet the movements were graceful; almost elegant. A short time later, Ralph moved his hand away and Charlotte stared in surprise.

"Wow, that's really good," she blurted out, without even thinking of who she was speaking to. Ralph looked up at her and actually blushed a little. He had drawn a perfect rendering of the castle and the vineyards along one side of it. It was far and away the best label any of them had created. In fact, each of the others at the table appeared to be shocked that this beast could produce such a work of art.

Ralph diverted his attention to his dessert plate, slowly taking forkfuls and avoiding eye contact with the others. A short time later, Emily came around to each table and collected the papers and wine labels. She delivered them to Suzette, who then conferred with the winemakers. After they had gone through every offering and each had nodded their approval, Suzette grabbed the winner and approached the lectern.

"It seems we have a unanimous choice," she said with a smile. "Congratulations to table number eight," she said as she held up the label that Ralph had produced. "This was extraordinary work, from the name chosen, to the sketch of the winery, and even to the font chosen, and, impressively, written by hand."

There was applause throughout the room, as each of the other teams could see that the label was incredible. They looked at the team members at table eight, but most passed over Ralph as if he wasn't even sitting there with the others. Ralph's teammates, however, eyed him carefully, wondering what other secrets this hulk of a man hid inside himself.

Suzette cleared her throat in order to get everyone's attention. "We will be having a team building exercise each afternoon over the next several weeks. In addition, you will all be spending next weekend here at the castle. As I indicated the other day, anyone that has a personal issue that would prevent them from being here must see me immediately."

There was a rush of whispered voices throughout the room, and several audible moans. Suzette wasn't expecting them all to be happy about giving up a weekend, so she ignored the protests. "Tomorrow, each of you will pair up with another person. In the morning, you will work alongside that person, observing and assisting them in their daily duties. In the afternoon, they will work with you doing the same. I think it's important that each of you has a better understanding what your coworkers do on a daily basis. Emily is handing out a sheet to each table that will list the pairings for tomorrow."

Charlotte gazed in shock at the paper in her now trembling hand. She passed it along to the person to her right, then looked up at the dais table, catching the eye of Stuart Gresham. He nodded knowingly and gave her a small smile. She had specifically told Stuart that she preferred to avoid working with Ralph, and yet they had immediately paired her up with him. Obviously, Stuart had informed Suzette of her wishes. She now wondered if Suzette considered her one of the problem employees at the winery.