Inès gazed out now at the rows and rows of Pinot Noir grapes that crawled towards the horizon. She wondered if the vines she could see now were descendants of the ones Michel had once cultivated so carefully. Even if they weren’t, certainly they carried a piece of him. His blood had spilled here, seeped into the soil, become part of the earth itself before the Nazis had hauled him away. He had given all he had to this land. And now it would help sustain the granddaughter he never had the chance to know.
from The Winemaker’s Wife by Kristin Harmel (2019). Very Highly Recommended.