It
Pours

C.D.
Cain

Praise for When It Raynes
. . .

“This really is
a classic, slow and generous with its time like the waters flowing past Rayne’s
hideaway . . . Feelings, hopes, dreams and actions take their time to develop
and the author deepens and explores the relationships between her cast . . .
The writing is almost poetic at times, and simply flows.”

—
Lesbian Reading Room

Chambers
of the Heart

Chamber
1

When
It Raynes

Chamber
2

It
Pours

Chamber
3

After
the Storm

Chamber
4

Comes
the Calm

© 2016 C.D. Cain

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced or transmitted in any means,

electronic or mechanical, without permission in

writing from the publisher.

978-1-943837-18-2 paperback

978-1-943837-19-9 epub

978-1-943837-87-8 mobi

Cover Design

by

Bink Books

Bedazzled Ink Publishing, LLC

Fairfield, California

http://www.bedazzledink.com

In the second installment in the Chambers of the
Heart series, Rayne Storm's life has become reminiscent of an early morning's
mist hovering over the surface of her beloved bayou. She follows the path her
mother, Charlie Grace, and Grant had designed for her years ago and accepts
Grant's proposal. At the engagement party, Samantha "Sam" LeJeune and
Rayne allow their deepest layers of doubt and insecurity to shroud their
undeniable attraction to each other and say goodbye as Sam moves to Florida for
her residency.

During her residency at the University of Alabama,
Rayne explores the local gay community and makes friends there who reawaken
her. Now Rayne finds herself in a fog of choices between an upbringing she both
loves yet resents for its deep southern values and a life she knows she has no
choice but to live. At some point she knows the rain will fall and when it
rains . . . it pours.

Chamber 2

For my mom who
is and has always been my best friend.

Acknowledgements

As
I did in When It Raynes, I struggle when it comes to writing the
Acknowledgements. I fear there isn’t enough space to properly thank all of
those who have impacted my life while writing this book. First, I think it only
right to acknowledge the woman for which this book is dedicated—my mother. Mom,
you are my best friend . . . my rock. Many people have asked me after the first
book if you are anything like Charlie Grace. I always smile and say with such
pride, “Absolutely not.” You are anything but her. You’ve accepted me for who I
am. You’ve supported my life no matter where it took me. You even attended my
very first GCLS conference with me. Won’t we always have the memory of our
friend, Sandra Moran? I’ll never forget her words shortly after she was around
us together. “I like you. You’re sassy.” Was she ever right? Thank you, Sassy,
for everything.

Speaking of the GCLS . . . thank you to Liz Gibson and all
of those who tirelessly give of their time and efforts to make the GCLS all
that it is. I was one of the graduates of The Writing Academy. I will never
forget the opportunity this program gave me. I will also always be grateful for
all of the support from the GCLS in starting my writing path. Judy Comella . .
. you’ve made my life brighter from the moment we shared beignets and coffee.

Bedazzled Ink . . . I’ll never be able to thank Casey and
Claudia
enough for taking a chance on me when I first presented When It Raynes
to them. It’s because of your confidence in Rayne’s story that these books are
even possible.

There
is a word I learned when writing my first book, “betas.” There is no better
word to know as a writer. This group is your support and simultaneously your kick
in the butt when your writing slips or loopholes are left open. I can never
thank each of you enough for all of your time and effort that went into getting
this book out. Eh, Jane, Tracy, Shannon, Lori, Beck, and the glorious Ice team
of Jenn and Laura . . . my sincerest heartfelt thanks is sent your way. Beck,
you’ve read this story nearly as many times as I have. Thank you!

I
had It Pours written fully before a special friend came into my life.
Who knew a for real Mo would soon become a lifelong friend. Thank you for
always being there when I needed Mommy advice or just a friend to hear me vent.

I
can’t describe how blessed I feel to have so many friends come into my life
through The Chambers of the Heart series. I know our friendship will
grow with Rayne’s journey. In a way, it’s my journey with each of you as well.
There are too many friends I have met through social media to list each of you
separately but please know how much I enjoy
our interaction, dialogue, comments, shared pictures, and messages. You
all make me smile daily.  Pamela, I have you all over my writing space. My
little trio: Tina, Myra, and Tara—you three make me laugh and smile even on
days when I want to do anything but. Mardi, this has been a year for us. I’ve
loved sharing this adventure with you and look forward to many more.

To
my siblings, a girl couldn’t ask for better sisters and brother than the three
of you. You’ve never once faltered in supporting me in whatever I did. Please
know how extremely proud I am of each of you.

To
the readers who have supported this series and given of your time to leave
reviews and ratings. Thank you! I will always appreciate the time and effort it
takes in leaving those for me. Thank you for taking the chance on a newbie
writer. Thank you for staying with me through the second book in the series.
You have made this venture in my life a dream come true.

To
“G” and “H.” anyone who follows me on social media must be tired of our stories
by now. I share as many about you two as I do about Rayne. You are my story
that is still being written.

“All,
everything that I understand,

I
understand only because I love.”

—Leo Tolstoy

Chapter 1

THE EYES OF darkened ruby which held one of the best and simultaneously
one of the worse memories of my young adult life stared back at me from the
tiny white box.  These, unlike my own eyes, were protected from the sight of
the future I had accepted yet no longer desired. They saw only the white cotton
which nestled them softly in the memories they sparked. Had it not been for its
contents, the small box would have been hidden among the trinkets of Charlie
Grace’s over-sized wooden desk. It was from her. There wasn’t a card or any
tangible evidence she had been the one who sent it, but there was little to no
doubt the gift was from Sam. Gift. Such an odd word for the object I
couldn’t take my eyes from nor tear my thoughts away from since the moment I
had found it. Had she meant it to be a gift? Surely not, as this was the day of
Charlie Grace’s long-awaited engagement party. The social event of her one and
only daughter’s engagement. The very engagement which ended contact between Sam
and I in December.

“Dear, staring out the window at your guests doesn’t exactly count
as attending the party.” Charlie Grace had entered the room without my notice.
“You do actually have plans of leaving this room and joining us, don’t you?”

“Of course, Mother,” I said. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Charlie Grace turned to leave but stopped shy of the doorway.
“See that you do, dear . . . See that you do.”

“Hey, Mother?”

She looked over her shoulder but didn’t turn
around to face me. “Hmmmm?”

“Did I get a package in the mail yesterday?”

“It’s your engagement party. You’ve gotten many packages this
week. I can hardly keep up with all of them.” She waved her hand as if
dismissing the entire topic altogether. Although we both knew she would have
been highly offended if the presents hadn’t arrived by the dozen the weeks
before the party.

I walked from behind the desk to face her and
held up the tiny white box. “This box? Did I get this one in the mail
yesterday?”

“Oh, dear Lord, that thing is hideous. Who on earth sent this to
you?” She ran her finger over the jewelry fashioned as a cicada.

I followed her finger and looked down at the charm shaped like a
tiny locust. The reflection of the sun streaming in through the window
reflected off of the gold, making it look as if it glowed. I suppose on some
plane it could be called gaudy. Although the meaning behind it made it the most
beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever seen. Even though my heart ached for the
loss of Sam in my life, my mind soaked up every bit of the memories of her lips
upon mine as we listened to the cicada’s song sitting on the bayou’s dock so
many moonlights ago. This charm took me back to a time when I dreamed of a
different life. A life not held to the conformities of the life I was now
facing. I felt a glimmer of once-felt happiness stir inside of me. I turned my
attention back to Charlie Grace before I let those feelings gain strength in
me. This is what I had. This day is what I had.

“I don’t know who sent it,” I finally said.

“Well, dear. Do make sure you never wear it in public or around
me.” Mother turned her back to me and left the room.

“I’ll see you downstairs, Mother,” I mumbled under my breath.

I had grown tired of our conversation. Truth be told, I had grown
tired of most of our conversations. Without Memaw, Charlie Grace and I began to
unravel at the seams. Apparently she had always been the glue to our
relationship as Memaw had been more of a mother to me than Charlie Grace. We
were strangers to each other now. Strangers who had absolutely no common ground
to build a relationship on. Sure Mother thought my engagement to Grant brought
us closer together. She believed my wishes to let her plan everything in
relation to the wedding was a sign we had grown closer. Little did she know, or
even care, that it was merely a way to disassociate myself from the inescapable
event. If I had my wish, I would sleep through the whole damn thing including
the honeymoon . . . most importantly the honeymoon.

I walked back to the large window behind the desk. Looking out at
the setting in front of me, I realized Charlie Grace had her perfect day. Yes,
she would finally get her long-awaited wish. In her eyes, a good southern woman
was nothing without the gold band that attached her to a fine southern man. It
was as if a woman was defined by the type of man she was lucky enough to snatch
as a husband. For me the man was Grant Thibodeaux and he was the epitome of her
dream son-in-law.

I had known Grant throughout grade school. Growing up in a small
town, we didn’t have the school diversity most of the larger cities had.
Therefore you pretty much stayed with the same kids, attending grades together
year after year. It wasn’t until Grant came home for the summer after his
undergraduate years that our relationship took a path all of its own. Charlie
Grace worked her matchmaker skills the night of my graduation party and had
Grant arrive as the main event for the evening. Of course, she tried to
masquerade it as him delivering the Jeep she had gotten me but I saw beyond the
diversion. She had tried for years to attach me to a young man of an
influential family but I had always managed to dodge the connection. Grant was
different. He was easy to be around. He never pressured me or tried to make our
relationship be more than it truly was at heart. More importantly he loved our
town as much as I did. Looking back, I realize this was one of key elements in
my relationship with him. We had common dreams—common goals to connect us to
each other. I could be with him and never change what I wanted in life. He
slipped in under my radar.

I stood watching him as he mingled among the crowd. The last
months of residency had been taxing on both of us, leaving little time for
anything beyond rotations much less time to find our footing after Sam had come
in and out of my life. The proposal had been a huge surprise to me. It came out
of nowhere and was unlike anything we had planned. Grant and I had always
agreed we would make no plans to marry or even get engaged until after we had
completed our residencies. We both felt our education was the key focus in our
lives. Or so I thought we did. It was changes like these that I had noticed in
him over the last several months. I suppose we all change a little when we
grow. I know I had.

I looked down at the charm now in the palm of
my hand. A cicada. Nearly a year had slipped by since the night at the
cabin. The night I answered my longing to feel Sam’s kiss. Had we been lost in
the song of the thirteen-year cicadas? The strength of the male’s serenade
drowned out nearly every other sound that night, including the sound of my
fears and hesitations screaming through me.

It wasn’t until I felt my body give itself over to her that my
fears returned. I couldn’t unravel the depths of what it meant to be so lost in
the passion of her touch so I did what I always do—I ran. I stopped her and
then felt the pining for her weeks after as I watched our friendship return to
its acceptable boundaries. That was until the moment I could deny myself no
longer.

I straightened my back, my body stiffened, and I shook off the
tears forming in my eyes. No, I wouldn’t let my thoughts travel any further
down that road. That was then, this is now. Besides, she was the
one who had cut off all contact with me. I turned from the window, readying
myself to join the party out on the lawn.

“Hi,” Sam said.

I stared at her, frozen.

Her voice was meek and her body’s expression was drawn inwardly.
She leaned against the doorjamb as if making a stand not to enter the room.

“Hey,” I finally squeaked out.

She cocked her head and a butterfly flew across my stomach. Good
Lord, this woman still had my heart with every beat of hers. It had been almost
three months since I had seen Sam yet not a day seemed to pass that I didn’t
think of her. Most of those visions found her cocking her head in the same way.
I felt my fingers rub over the cicada I still held in my palm. The nervous
sweat found there moistened the metal against my skin.

“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find my words,” I said.

She turned slightly away from the doorway and stared down the
hallway. “I should go.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here
anyway.”

“Wait!” I nearly yelled as I rushed around the side of the desk.
“Don’t go. Please, Sam . . . don’t go. I’m just shocked you’re here. I mean how
are you here? How did you know?”

She raised a small card in the air. “By this.” She tapped the card
against her other hand. “Your mother actually sent me an invitation. Well . . .
sent me and my father an invitation.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she had done that.”

“So you didn’t give her my mailing address?”

“No, not at all. I wouldn’t do that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Her voice cracked. “Honestly . . . I
don’t think I can stay anyway.”

I approached her as she turned to go. I touched her arm and felt a
thousand electric shocks soar through my body with an intensity that took my
breath. I gasped as she flinched underneath my touch.

“Come in. Please.” I pulled at her arm, trying to encourage her to
come into the room so we could talk. “I got the charm.” I was desperate to say
anything that would stop her from leaving.

She sighed deeply. “I bought that for you so long ago. Seems like
a lifetime now.” Her eyes glistened with the dew of fresh tears. “I thought
maybe one day you could use a happier memory to wear around your neck.” Her
eyes drifted to the gold cross around my neck. She briskly wiped the tears from
her eyes before they were free to travel down her face. “Well, that was then . .
. this is now. I certainly meant to give it to you under different
circumstances.” Her voice had grown colder and how could I blame her for it.

“I love it,” I said timidly.

“Hmmpf.” She scoffed.

I walked to the desk and sat on its edge, hoping the distance
would urge her to follow. She followed but stood behind a burgundy chair hiding
most of her five-foot-seven-inch frame from me.

“You surprised me with it.”

“Yeah.” She stared out the picture window
behind me by looking over my shoulder rather than into my eyes. “I was packing
when I came across it and decided I didn’t want to carry it with me.”

“Packing?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes, Rayne, packing.”

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach at my name. The acid
in her tone was unnerving. Nothing like when she would call me Stormy. I missed
it. I missed the person who was Stormy. You don’t realize how much
something affects you until it’s gone—the innocence of a nickname, the
tenderness in eyes holding you with the deepest of sincerity. It’s those things
you miss the most when they are taken from you. Or in my case, when you
willingly chose to extricate them from your life. I breathed in deeply to ease
my nerves.

“I could’ve left it in my apartment or thrown it away I guess.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I should’ve. Would’ve been the smartest
thing.” She swept her hand across her forehead to brush away the fallen curls.
The cropped layers of her blonde hair had grown out considerably since the last
time I had seen her.

“No, I’m glad you gave it to me. It means everything to me. That .
. . that night means everything to me.”

“Don’t,” she said through gritted teeth as she looked directly at
me for the first time. “Don’t you dare say something like that to me.” Her tone
was angry, bitter.

“Sam.” I pushed myself off of the corner of the desk to take a
step toward her.

“Don’t, Rayne.” She held up her hand. “I swear I’ll walk out of
the fucking door if you take another step.”

I slumped back down onto the coolness of the wood, wondering if
her coldness chilled the room another ten degrees. “What do you want me to say?
What can I say?”

She was silent for several seconds. I
noticed her grip tighten on the back of the leather chair. “Goodbye. I want you
to say goodbye.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to tell you goodbye. I’m leaving Alabama. In fact I won’t
be going back there after I leave here.”

My heart sank even further down the pit now swallowing it. I
opened my mouth to say something but what felt like ten minutes passed before a
sound came out. “Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah . . . it does?”

“Why?”

Of course it mattered! How would I know where to find her? She
couldn’t disappear—leave my life forever. I pushed myself off of the mahogany desk
and immediately wished for its strength underneath me again. My knees felt weak
beneath the weight of my body as I stood in front of her.

“See, there isn’t a reason. So this is goodbye.”

“Why? Why does it have to be this way? It’s not as if I saw you
anyway. Ever since . . . since that night, I haven’t seen or talked to you at
all.”

“Like I could see you? Like it would be possible for me to see you
and not break down into a blubbering mess?” She again wiped harshly across her
cheeks as if she hated the tears falling from her eyes. The redness of her eyes
nearly overpowered the beautiful blue irises. “You broke my fucking heart! And
here I was supposed to be the tough one. The one who never falls for anyone . .
. much less in love with them. Hell up until then, I only committed myself to a
good night of sex. Then I meet you and look at me now. I’m a crying idiot while
you stand there perfectly fine.”

Not able to withstand the proximity nor the unsteady strength in
my legs any longer, I stepped around the desk to sit in the chair. The wheels
rolled backward and the chair hit the low-lying windowsill. The sound echoed
within the silence of the room. “I’m hardly fine, Sam, and you’re not an
idiot.” I’m the idiot.

“Oh, aren’t you? Look behind you. Your
engagement party is on the other side of that freakin’ window. And let’s talk
about this engagement. Have you ever once thought about the timing of Grant’s
proposal? Hadn’t you both decided you were waiting until after medical school
to get married? What happened? Why the sudden rush? Hasn’t it even crossed your
mind this is his way of holding onto you . . . of controlling you? Don’t you
think he saw the writing on the wall and used the most desperate time of your
life as a way of sealing the deal?” She shook her head and walked around the
chair and sat on its arm. “Whatever. I don’t want to fight. If you want to be
manipulated your entire life, then so be it. I only came to give myself
closure. If you can’t see the truth in front of you then go get married. Ruin
your life. I’ll be damned if I let you ruin mine along with you.” She rubbed
her temples with her fingers.

“As if you gave me the chance for anything else,” I mumbled under
my breath.

“What? What did you just say?”

I looked up into her eyes. The blueness of them sent a wave
through my stomach that raced up my throat to form a knot of swallowed tears.
“As if you gave me another option, Sam. I asked you to tell me how it would be
between us—what we would have.”

“No, you told me your well-thought-out plan of how it couldn’t
be. You had us all figured out before we even started. Where you wanted to
live. Where I wanted to live. How we couldn’t live. ”

“And you didn’t argue. You didn’t tell me differently. You walked
away and cut me off. You wouldn’t even speak to me after that night. I called.
I left voicemails . . . texts. Not once did you respond.” I held up my finger.
“Not once.”

“I listened to them.”

“But you never answered.”

“You never said what I needed to hear.”

“Which was what exactly?”

“That I was enough. That I was enough to try.” She laid her palm
flat against her chest. “Rayne, you wanted the guarantee. Your whole life has
been about planning everything out to the letter. You asked me to tell you how
our future would be before you even invested the time into us to give that
future a chance. You wanted me to check off all of your perfectly squared
boxes; so you would have some type of reassurance before you chose me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Your voicemails didn’t say anything differently. I’d save them to
listen to at the end of the day. Hoping to hear you tell me you wanted me—to
choose me. That I was enough to risk the chance of an unknown future.”

I thought of her sitting in her darkened apartment. The fatigue of
the day wearing on her as her body slumped in a chair. I saw her sitting in the
light of the moon as its beams flowed into the enlarged space of her
warehouse-renovated loft. I pictured the phone held earnestly against her
ear—anxiously waiting to hear the words her heart needed to hear. A trail of
tears upon her cheek illuminated by the light of the phone. No, she was right.
I never did say those things. Hadn’t I planned it out? Hadn’t I continued to be
calculated with the words I told her? Even at times I found myself calling
repeatedly as I tried to encourage her to talk to me. I let the fear of what
loving her would mean to my life, to all that I had known my life to be, keep
me from breaking down my wall to let my words flow freely.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“That’s so cliché.” She made a sarcastic grunt before standing from
the arm of the chair. “Okay then. Goodbye, Rayne.” She turned quickly and
walked with heavy footsteps to the door.

“Sam?”

She stopped but didn’t turn around to face me.

“How could it be any different? How? Tell me.”

She looked over her shoulder. “It can’t now. It’s done.”

At that moment I was thankful she hadn’t turned to face me as it
would have surely broken every barrier to her I had pretended existed. I wanted
to say something else . . . anything else. The one thing I was sure of was I
couldn’t say goodbye. Instead, I said nothing as I watched the back of her turn
down the hallway and out of view. She was wrong. I cried. I cried plenty. In
fact, nearly every night found me falling asleep on a dampened pillow. At
night, the numbness which filled my body seemed to break enough to allow the
pain of losing Sam to creep into the dimly lit bedroom that seemed to be my
prison. It was the only freedom I had from the black hole that consumed me. It
had started as a small raven-colored blemish on my soul the moment Memaw passed
in my arms but over time it has grown to stain every feeling I once had.

I looked down at the sparkle in the cicada’s eyes. The rubies
reminded me of a life I had once dreamed to be mine. I unclasped the chain from
my neck and ran it through the loop found at the back of the cicada’s neck. I
watched it fall against the gold cross before I put it back around my neck. The
two women who meant most in my life. The two pieces of jewelry that held them
close to me were now side by side. I rubbed my fingers over their memories and
cursed the life of conformity I had accepted.

THE SKY WAS filled with a purplish hue from an early setting sun
of a season where winter was slowly cascading into spring but held hostage in
the hours not yet finding daylight savings time. In the South this was our
season for outdoor events. The warmness of the day evolved into a crispness of
night, making the temperature comfortable for an outside gathering. I strolled
through the groups of mingling guests, stopping briefly at each to give my
cordial greetings. Aw yes, Charlie Grace had trained me well. Mother had
planned the event down to the letter with the most picturesque part of the lawn
designated as the primary party area. Large banquet tables fashioned with white
linen cloths and Aster patterned blue-and-white porcelain dishes sat under the
majestic moss-covered branches of the oak trees that had lived on the
plantation land much longer than any of us.

The centerpieces were perhaps my favorite of the decorations. They
were made from wide-bottom matching porcelain bowls filled with artificial hydrangeas
and Granny Smith apples. The contrast of greens found in the light green
petals, deep rich foliage, and brightness of a freshly plucked apple sat
against the gray moss cascading overhead. Of course they had to be artificial
as the large flower had not yet bloomed here in the South or at least I
believed them to be artificial. Knowing Charlie Grace, she could have very
easily had the white and light green blooms shipped in for the event—easily,
but expensive. I mean what was a few thousand dollars when you were hoping the
photographers would capture a shot worthy enough to submit for the cover of Southern
Living Magazine?

I reached out to touch the petals of the arrangement. “I don’t
even want to know,” I mumbled as I pulled back my hand.

The evening had lost its beauty to me long before Sam’s visit but
after seeing her, not even the setting sun could brighten my spirits. A gentle
breeze swayed the flickering tea lights that hung over my head. Hundreds of
them dangled from the trees. I watched their flames dance within the tiny bell
bottom-shaped glass.

Have you ever once thought about the timing of Grant’s proposal? Sam’s voice rang
through my thoughts. Had I? Had I truly sat down and wondered about the change
in the timing. She was right. Grant and I meshed well because we both had the
same visions of our future. In fact, wasn’t that the reason I had agreed to
date him in the first place?

Grant was easy, never threatening or
demanding. I could get lost in myself and not have to explain one thing to him.
Yes, we had decided years earlier our goals were the same. Well, nearly the
same as I could’ve done without the necessities of marriage. Although I knew
his and Charlie Grace’s desires would have to come to fruition, I had always
thought it would be much later after graduation.

Marriage to me was a stepping stone. One footstep of life that
would eventually find its way into my future. I had never questioned this
beyond those few thoughts until I met Sam. Sam had changed everything in me. It
was as if she was a sky full of brilliant stars illuminating the footpath of
life—a trail of roots and dirt in between a canopy of blooming trees.

There was a time, before Memaw’s passing, where my daydreams took
me to that path and each time Sam walked along beside me. The darkness that
filled me after Memaw’s death took every star from me, took the blooms from the
trees, leaving a bare skeleton of what they once were and as of late took the
companion by my side. Memaw.

Have you ever once thought about the timing of
Grant’s proposal?

No, actually, I don’t think I had, not until now anyway. Had I
been so numb with Memaw’s death that I had not even thought of the meaning
behind his untimely . . . or timely proposal? A deep sigh escaped me. Memaw.
Days were a passage of time after she left me. It was as if I could no longer
feel anything without her in my world. Of course I missed seeing her while I
was away at school but there was this satisfying feeling of strength and
security in the knowledge she was only a few hours or phone call away. Not
feeling her presence, hearing her voice or laughter had left the blackest of
holes in my soul.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to get here.” Grant’s voice
broke my concentration of trying to hear Memaw’s voice in my head. “Where ya
been?”

He rested his arm across my shoulder as he leaned in to kiss my
cheek. The newly grown beard scratched against my face. It was worse when he
kissed my lips. It matched the nauseous rumblings of my stomach as my thoughts
traveled to the next step he wanted to follow our kisses. Before meeting Sam, I
could turn my body off and let my brain take me somewhere else when our kisses
flowed into the act of making love. Act. A good word for what I
considered our love making to be.

“Sorry,” I said, shrugging off his arm. “You know me.”

He stepped back to look at me fully. “You okay, babe?”

Ugh! Babe! I couldn’t stop the roll of my eyes. Not that I would even if I
could’ve stopped them. I hated when he called me a pet name, especially babe.
Did an engagement ring really necessitate us starting silly habits such as pet
names?

He chuckled as if he knew calling me that would get me riled up.
“Okay . . . okay . . . I give.” He waved his hands in surrender. “You okay,
Rayne?”

“I’m fine.” I waved my hand out toward the crowd around us. “Do
you like all of this?”

Grant chuckled. I swear his voice continued to deepen over the
years or maybe it was the beard aging his boyish looks that created the
illusion of an older man in front of me. He brought the fluted glass to his
lips and wiped away the trail of champagne from his whiskers. “Aw Rayne, it’s
not so bad.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“Come here.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind one of the
oak’s massive trunks. He gently leaned my back against it. “Okay, now tell me.
What’s wrong?” He gave me a half-hearted smile. “You know this is really
supposed to be a happy occasion. I mean some would even say this is an event
they look forward to. Don’t girls usually live for this stuff.”

Live for this stuff? What the hell? I’m not some little sorority
chick he picked up freshman year. I knew he was joking but I suppose I was too keyed up to let
myself leave it there. I heard Sam’s voice in my head again. Have you ever
once thought about the timing of Grant’s proposal? I suppose his joking and
her question combined pissed me off. “Grant, there’s something I’ve been
meaning to ask you?” Nothing like the present.

“There you two are,” Charlie Grace said as she walked around the
tree. Jacques followed in step behind her. She wrapped her arms around our
waists. “The caterers are ready to begin serving the dishes. We should try to
get everyone to take a seat.” She brushed back the hair that had fallen onto
her face. She looked radiant. The green of her dress lightened her gray eyes in
such a way that they appeared to have a bluish hue. I watched those eyes fall
to my chest as the edge of her lips turned downward. “Must you? Must you always
defy me in every single request I have?” She lifted the cicada pendant off of
my chest and then quickly dropped it to let it fall back against my skin.

Jacques stepped in between us. “I’ll round up the troops.” He
leaned his six-foot-one-inch frame over to place a kiss on my temple. “Hey
pretty girl, glad you made it down.”

My memories held only his image when I thought of the word,
father. The one who had been a part in creating my life had turned out to be
not much more than a donation. He wasn’t the man who could settle for one woman
in his life much less one he created a daughter with. Although I had known
Jacques as my only father figure for most of my life, I never called him Father
or Dad. He was just Jacques, pronounced “Jack.”

Since Memaw’s death, I had come to look at Jacques with different
eyes. He was a comforting presence in my life. One who didn’t change nor
confirm to all of the desires of Charlie Grace and her social gatherings. He
seemed to go along just as I was . . . one step at a time. His manner was even
as stoic as mine. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me and I wondered what
it was he was thinking. It was as if I saw an understanding in his eyes. An
understanding that he knew I questioned the path before me. I didn’t dare ask
but I did often wonder if he knew I was a shell of the person I once had the
opportunity to be?

It didn’t take me long to find my assigned seat. Of course I would
be close to the head of the table and had no doubts I would be sitting in
between Grant and Charlie Grace—Grant as this was our engagement party and
Charlie Grace so she could keep a close eye on me. I knew she feared my tongue
would embarrass her tonight. While watching her mingle from guest to guest
carrying her award-winning smile, I had decided I would do my earnest attempt
at curbing my smart-aleck comments for one night. After all, wasn’t this really
her party?

The sky once filled with a purplish hue from an early setting sun
was now obscured underneath the thick foliage of the large oak trees
surrounding us. Their branches formed a cover over our heads which dimmed the
sun’s dying light to a perfect ambiance for the meal.

“Oooooh, Charlie Grace, this is all so perfect.” Nadine fluttered
her hands across her well-endowed chest. The material of her dress stretched
across her shoulders to the point I feared I would hear a rip any moment.
Surely this was a figment of my imagination as Nadine had spent the days up to
the party informing us of all of the weight she was losing. In fact to hear her
tell it, she was a mere skeleton of her former self.

I shook my head, which was better than the
laugh I was trying to conceal. Then I noticed the shift of a silhouette masked
by Nadine’s skeleton self. Sam was leaning against one of the porch columns.
She stared directly at me. I held her eyes, vowing to myself I wouldn’t break
our stare until she did. I heard the sounds of chairs being slid back from the
table. I heard the clinking of glasses against porcelain plates as people took
their seats around us.

I didn’t move. I saw her fully now as Nadine
sat in front of me. Sam kept her hands clasped in front of her. I felt a tug on
my arm as I was being urged to take my seat as the others around me had. I
didn’t move. I wouldn’t be the one to look away. Not this time . . . not right
now.

Sam pushed herself off of the column and held her hand waist high.
She gave a small wave before giving me a tight-lipped smirk. I rubbed the
cicada charm which rested at the base of my neck but I refused to wave goodbye.
Surely I knew I had no right to not wave back. The choices I made that led us
here. How could I deny her closure? Perhaps the very essence of her need for
closure was why I couldn’t. I suppose a part of me refused to accept goodbye.

She dropped her hand and turned to walk away from the house. The
air around me stopped circulating. A much needed breath lingered in the
thickness of it. My chest tightened as it struggled to bring the oxygen into my
lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Life . . . conformity . . . loss. They all began to
suffocate me at once.

Frantically I reached my hand behind my back, hoping to grab hold
of the chair behind me. Hoping to have anything behind me to keep me from
falling flat on the grassy lawn beneath my feet. Tiny white flashes of light
danced across Nadine’s face as I tried to steady the spinning. The chair, it
has to be behind me. Where the hell is the back of the chair? My hand
caught flesh instead of metal. I looked over my shoulder to see Flossie
standing behind me. She steadied the speeding rotation of the world.

“Here, baby girl. Let me help you.” She placed her free hand on my
arm above where our hands were joined. Gently she guided me to my seat and
winked before walking to her place setting down the opposite end of the table.

“I do declare I can’t imagine what she’s got
in store for the wedding if this is what she’s doing for the engagement,”
Nadine said.

“You and me both, Mrs. Thibodeaux. I can’t imagine.”

“Oh, honey, we’re practically family now. You
can call me Mom.” In between her words, Nadine devoured a bacon wrapped scallop
broil in two bites. “I’m thinking, we’re all in for some kind of hootenanny for
sure.” She placed her fingers around another scallop victim as she perched
herself to engulf it in much the same way.

“Oh right.” I scooted the food around my plate with my fork. “Yes,
I’m sure it’ll be something to be seen.”

I noticed Charlie Grace glaring at Nadine, although I wasn’t sure
if it was because of her delicate way of eating or her wishes for me to call
her Mom. My guess was the former as I could hardly think of Mother having any
jealousy over me.

“I think it will be a beautiful affair,”
Charlie Grace finally managed to say. She continued to stare at the jewelry
around my neck. “All we have to do now is get these two to decide on a date. Of
course, you know I will need a year to plan the whole thing.”

“Mother, we’ve told you already. We don’t plan on setting a date
any time soon. This was just an engagement.”

“I don’t know, Rayne. Maybe we should go on and set a date.” Grant
didn’t bother cutting the scallop as I had done. He popped the whole thing in
his mouth all at once.

Like mother like son. The thought caused a roll across my stomach. “I mean what’s the
point in waiting?” he said, trying to talk around his full mouth.

“What?” I knew the look I was giving him in
front of everyone wasn’t exactly one of endearing love but at that moment I
didn’t care.

He looked at me as if he was surprised. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” I also didn’t seem to care that my
voice kept escalating. “First you spring the engagement on me in front of
everyone and now you want to set a date all of a sudden.” I stopped myself
before I let my anger and confusion of seeing Sam turn this into a scene. From
the corner of my eye I saw Flossie and Cora looking at us. I shook my hands in
the air in concession. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go say hi to Flossie and Cora.
I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

No one said anything as I stood from the table. They waited until
I had stepped a couple of feet away before they let their whispers run freely.
And still . . . I didn’t care.

“Hey there, child. We’s were a’wondering if you were a’gonna come
over.” Cora dredged a fork full of veal through her fettuccine sauce before
putting the bite into her mouth. “Lawd, child, this is some good vittles yo’
Momma done did. Ain’t you gonna eat?”

“Cora, leave the girl alone.” Flossie pushed the noodles around on
her plate before taking a bit of sun-dried tomato.  Her tone was flat. Come to
think of it, I hadn’t noticed her voice having anything beyond that flat tone,
since we had lost Meems.

“I’ll get something in a bit. I wanted to come
over and speak to ya’ll first. Are you enjoying the party?” I knelt down in
between their chairs.

“Are you?” Flossie squeezed a lemon wedge over
her glass of ice tea.

“Aw hell, you know me, Flossie, I live for these things.”

Flossie laughed. The sound of it caught me by surprise as I had
missed it more than I realized. Her laughter eased some of the troubling
feelings I had swirling around me. “Dat you do.” She bit into the lemon wedge
and puckered her face. “Damn, I’ve missed you, baby girl.”

“Enough to let me steal one of these?” I grabbed a roasted
asparagus spear from her plate.

“Hell yeah. Dem things make your pee stink.”

I let my forehead rest against her temple. “Damn, I’ve missed you
too.”

A LIGHT RAIN had run most of the party guests under the protection
of the large tents strategically placed around the grounds. Of course, Charlie
Grace had prepared for the weatherman’s report of ten percent chance of
rainfall.

Jacques fussed about the cost of the tents
because a ten percent chance in Louisiana generally meant nothing but stifling
humidity without a snowball’s chance in hell for a drop of rain to cool the
air.

The largest tent had a dance floor and band
while the smaller ones had dessert plates of strawberries with Chantilly cream
and champagne. I could have easily been in any one of the tents pleasantly
mingling as a proper hostess should be but instead I sat on the farthest corner
of the back porch. It was my perfect escape. A dessert plate and a bottle of
champagne were my only company.

In the moonlight the large tree branches swooped down over the
lawn. They looked a bit eerie with their indistinctive clumps of leaves and
long-hanging strands of moss. A small puddle of collected rainwater lay in
front of me. I watched the ripples of the reflected porch light change with
each vibration of the ground. Judging by the beat of the music and tapping of
feet on the wooden planks of the dance floor, I predicted this party wasn’t
going to end anytime soon.

“I’d figured as much you’d be out here. Mind if’n I join you?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Flossie standing behind me. She
held an empty champagne glass in her hand.

“Not at all.” I swung my legs off the side of the porch swing to
make room for her to sit. “I heard Charlie Grace giving you hell because you
wore denim.”

“What? Yo’ momma knows I don’t be dressing up
in dat fancy smancy stuff she does. Now Cora . . . dat woman goes all out. But
she should a known better than to think I gone put on like I’m a highfalutin’.”

“Well, I love it. You look very nice.” And she did. She wore a
dark blue jean material pant suit with flare legs and jacket with a short
waist. Small flowers were embroidered on the lapels and around the large pearl
buttons. The colors complemented her ivory shell shirt.

“How ya holding up, baby girl?”

“I’m hanging in.”

“I was sort of surprised when yo’ momma told me you and your fella
were gettin’ married.” She held her empty glass out to me.

I poured each of us a full glass of champagne. “Yeah, it happened
pretty fast.” The freshly poured bubbles tickled my nose when I brought the
glass up to my lips.

“Ya’ll set a date?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. Just an engagement.”

“Aw.” Flossie looked out at the lawn as she took a swallow from
her glass. The bubbles must have affected her the same way because she rubbed
her slender fingers across the tip of her nose. Several minutes went by.
“Y’know that there Chantilly cream tweren’t bad a’toll.”

I lowered the strawberry covered in the thickened cream I’d been
holding in front of my lips, waiting for her to say something. I sighed deeply.
“I don’t know, Flossie. Things just got so screwed up after . . .” I felt the
familiar lump form in my throat. The ripples in the puddle blurred.

Flossie put her hand on top of mine. “Dat it did.” She patted my
hand. “But don’t got to stay dat way.”

“Seems like I can’t find anything but screwed up these days.” I
caught the juice of the strawberry before it dripped off of my chin and down
onto my shirt. I covered the remaining strawberry with cream before popping it
into my mouth.

“It won’t feel like dat forever. I promise you dat.” She handed me
a napkin. “It won’t.”

The chains of the swing squeaked as we gently swayed the bench
back and forth. Even through the beat of the music, I could hear a few cicadas
singing in the night. I found the coolness of the golden cicada between my
fingers again. Oh Sam, why did I let it get so screwed up?

“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll feel this way forever,” I said.

“Then maybe some of dem choices ain’t the best.”

“No, they aren’t but they’re the only ones I had.”

“Sis, there always more than one choice if’n you want it to be.”

I gave her a half smile. “Not this time, Flossie.” A gentle wind
blew in the scent of the climbing jasmine. I breathed in its aroma deeply as I
looked out across the lawn I loved so much. At the moment I was thankful the
frogs were drowning out the cicadas. I didn’t think I could handle hearing
their song another chorus. I remembered the forgotten champagne glass in my
hand and took a generous swallow. “I love it here. All I want to do is come
back. All I want to do is be here.”

“It’s your home. It’s who you are. Just like Addie. But what dat
got to do with what we talkin’ about?”

“The choices I made were so I could come back.”

“Ain’t no choice ever takin’ away yo’ home. Not ever.”

“Some would,” I said as I brought the glass back to my lips.
“Trust me.”

Flossie shifted in the seat of the swing to
face me full on. “You listen to me, girlie. Ain’t nothing you ever gone do or
say gone change who you are or where you from. This yo’ home and always gone
be.”

I emptied the champagne bottle evenly into our glasses and handed
one of the two remaining strawberries to her. “I don’t want to go back to
school.”

“Why not?”

“It won’t be the same when I do.”

It wouldn’t be either. Without the chance of
seeing Sam walk down the hallway. Without the opportunity to breathe in her scent
when she passed by me. Eucalyptus mint. The scent remained with me no
matter where I went. The breeze caught in an opening door seemed to carry it to
me. The pillowcase of my bed seemed to hold the fragrance in their fibers even
though her body had never rested on the sheets. Nor would I see the smile that
had taken strength from my legs cross her face again. At least, knowing she was
in Birmingham had given me some hope I would see it again. Even if it wasn’t a
smile meant for me and I had to watch her give it to someone else. We hadn’t
spoken and I hadn’t seen her but the possibility had always been there. Many
days it had been the sheer possibility of seeing her that held the power I
needed to make it another day at the hospital. The possibility was my oxygen.
Now that chance was gone. Sam had left Birmingham and she was not coming back.
The heaviness of her absence was a weight I could hardly bear.

“I can’t imagine another three-and-a-half years there, Flossie.”

“Sure you can. You got lots more learning and you love doctoring.
It’s who you are. Who’d you always wanted to be.” Flossie pushed her foot
against the porch to give the swing motion. “And once you done soaked up all
dat learning you gone come back here to yo’ home to bring what you done learnt
to us.”

I looked out across the lawn at the remaining flickering tea light
candles. Some had managed to stay lit through the light rain while others had
grown dark. I let my ears open up to the laughter behind the dancing footsteps
and music. I let my mind look beyond the sadness of Sam’s moving away and let
it drift to the people behind the laughter. They were my family. They were the
reasons why I called this place home. In some moments there were flickers of
light in the darkness. Flickers which held just enough of a flame to brighten
the darkness. This was one of those moments.

I clinked my glass against hers. “And thus
the decisions I made.”

Chapter 2

“HELLO, MRS. LAMBERT. I’m Dr. Storm. Your OB doctor requested a
surgical consult about your gallbladder results.”

“Yes, come in.” The young woman positioned herself to sit up
straighter in the bed. Her very pregnant belly made even this simple task
difficult.

“Here, let me help you.” I set the chart down on the bedside tray
table to help her adjust the pillows.

She panted breathlessly as if she had just run a marathon. “Thank
you. To remember the day an entire hour-long aerobics class didn’t make me this
out of breath.”

I smiled at her. “It’s not entirely your fault you know? The
pregnancy is causing pressure against your diaphragm which makes it difficult
for you to expand your lungs fully.”

“You’re sweet not to mention my fat ass when I tell you about my
old aerobic days.”

“You’ll be back to class in no time.” I
flipped the chart open to review her results once more. Not that I needed the
reminder. I noticed over the years rounding at UAB that patients seemed to be
more comfortable when you opened their chart. Although I’m not sure why.
Probably they must worry, we see so many in a day that we would get them
confused if we didn’t have their information right in front of us. I even
caught many of them turning their heads to try to read the name on the side of
the chart. In less than an hour I would be getting off after a solid
twenty-four hour work day. I had managed to snag a couple of hours of sleep in
the on call room. Beyond those, these eyes had not seen sleep. Maybe the
patients were onto something after all. I was so tired I could forget my own
name.

“Your doctor consulted us due to your abdominal pain with nausea
and vomiting. She was concerned for gallbladder disease as a cause of your
symptoms. Your blood work was fairly normal except for a mildly elevated white
count and amylase. Both of which can be increased with gallbladder problems.
The ultrasound didn’t show any signs of gallstones . . . which is a good sign.
Considering your pregnancy and the associated risk of further testing or
surgery, we have decided—”

“Hey, Beth, how’re you feeling today?”

The door flew open so much that I fumbled the chart in my hands
and nearly let it fall onto the patient’s feet. Dr. Breaker seemed to notice
because her eyes darted to the chart and a smile crossed her face at my
recovery.

“Aunt Violet, I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

I looked between the two women. Violet? Aunt Violet?
I couldn’t say I saw a family resemblance.

“Hey, kiddo. I got out of my last meeting early and thought I
would swing by.” Dr. Breaker winked at Mrs. Lambert before walking toward me
with an extended hand. “Good evening, I’m Dr. Breaker.” Her grip was strong as
she gave me one brisk shake of her hand and then released it quickly.

“Good evening. I’m Dr. Storm from surgery.”

“And your findings?” Her expression suggested she was already
bored with my presence.

“Oh . . . er . . . sorry. Yes . . . I was just telling Mrs.
Lambert that her WBC count was mildly elevated as was her amylase.”

“And her liver function tests?”

“Both the AST and ALT were within normal limits.”

“Which leads you to?” She was pimping me. Aunt Violet was
pimping me. I suppose now would not be the time to make a mistake and
accidentally call her Aunt Violet.

“With both normal liver function tests and a normal lipase with
only a mildly elevated amylase, we aren’t concerned for a stone obstructing
ducts to the liver or pancreas.” I decided to speak quickly to try to avoid any
further questioning by her. “Plus the ultrasound didn’t show any signs of a
cholelithiasis. Given her timing in her pregnancy, we are recommending to
postpone any further testing or surgical intervention at this time.” I directed
my attention to Mrs. Lambert who had a wide grin. “There would be an increased
risk to the baby to do a Hida scan to determine the function of the gallbladder
secondary to radiation of the injected radioactive tracer. Plus any surgical
intervention at this stage in your pregnancy would also be a risk and would
have to be an open procedure versus laparoscopic. Therefore I’m going to
recommend to your admitting physician bowel rest, intravenous fluids and
antibiotics if your white count does not normalize. Upon discharge I would
recommend you avoid high fatty foods to prevent another event.” I realized I
may not have taken a breath with my hurried speech.

Mrs. Lambert laughed and looked at Dr. Breaker. “You should be
ashamed.”

“What? What’d I do?” Dr. Breaker pointed to her chest and stepped
in between us to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Mrs. Lambert rolled her eyes and looked up at me. “She wouldn’t
want you to know she is a big ole teddy bear once you get to know her.”

Dr. Ball Breaker a big ole teddy bear? Somehow I seriously
doubted it.

“Is that all, Dr. Storm?” Dr. Breaker asked.

Yep, one big ole teddy bear. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked back at Mrs.
Lambert. “Do you have any questions?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, Dr. Storm, you explained
everything perfectly. Thank you.”

“Okay, then. I’m going to go write some orders. It was nice
meeting you Mrs. Lambert. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I tucked her chart under
my arm. “Dr. Breaker.”

“Dr. Storm.”

As I walked out of the room, I heard Mrs. Lambert saying, “You’re
such a bad ass.”

“They don’t call me ball breaker for nothing.”

I swear I heard her laughing before the door
closed fully behind me.

“HEY. SORRY I’M late.” I plopped down hard in
the booth seat across from Grant. “I got a last minute consult up on OB.”

“Oh yeah? Anything good?” He didn’t look up from flipping through
the Journal of Vascular Surgery.

“Nah, not really. A non-operable gallbladder on a seven month
pregnant female.”

He looked over the edge of the magazine. “See . . . Why do they do
that shit? That is a bullshit consult and they know it. They shouldn’t consult
us on crap that isn’t going to the OR.”

“I didn’t mind. She was really nice and I think the reassurance
helped her.”

“Yeah, well, glad they sent you. I’ve got better things to do than
see bogus consults.”

“Seriously? You’re going to be that guy?”

“No.” He shook his head and closed his journal. “No, I’m not.
Sorry. I had a case go bad today. I can’t shake it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. If that’s okay. I’ve gotta step up my game is all.”

I reached across the table to place my hand on his. I hadn’t
noticed the stress in his eyes until now. He was one of the best residents in
our class yet he never gave himself credit. I had watched him put more and more
pressure on himself over the years. To be honest, it was hard for me to see
sometimes. “Grant, you’re one of the best residents we have. Your skills are
insane. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“It’s down to the wire here. This isn’t the time for me to make
stupid mistakes. I’ve lost some of my focus.”

I didn’t want to bring up the wedding stuff but this seemed like
the perfect time to remind him as to why we had always decided to wait on
getting married. This was our one shot in school. Now wasn’t the time to lose
sight of that. “Remember, that’s why we always said no wedding plans until
after school. We can slow all of this down. Don’t let Charlie Grace change what
we have always planned.”

“It’s not just her, Rayne.” He turned his hand over to hold mine.
“I’m ready to be your husband. I’m ready to come home to you every night. I
miss you when I stay at my place. I’m lonely without you. You’re not only my
fiancée you know? You’re my best friend.”

“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress stopped by our booth
as she passed by. “Ma’am, would you like to order something.”

I looked at Grant. “Have you already eaten?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I got here earlier and was starving. Go ahead
and order something. I’ll sit with you while you wait.”

I looked up at the waitress. “No thank you. I’m fine.” But I
wasn’t. My stomach had growled the moment I opened the door to The Corner Cafe.
Yet after Grant’s words the guilt had trickled in and I was really ready to
leave. He was a good guy . . . a good guy who had always treated me better than
I sometimes deserved. The feelings I had for Sam slipped up on me. I couldn’t
blame him for the jealousy he had felt. Hell, if the marriage proposal was
planned and if he had jumped up the timeline because of her, could I really
blame him?

He had known me nearly my whole life. Did I honestly expect he wouldn’t
see the difference in me after she came into my life? Did I truly believe he
hadn’t seen all of the confusion in me?

“Why don’t you go ahead and go. I think I’m too exhausted to eat
anyway. I’m going to go home and crash.”

“Oh, okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to run to the restroom before I go.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He looked around the restaurant. “So, you don’t want me coming
over tonight?”

“Not tonight if it’s alright.” I leaned over
the table and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’ll see you first thing
tomorrow. Good night.”

He laughed when I rubbed at my lips. “They
still tickle don’t they?” He ran his hand over his beard. “I can shave it off
if you want.”

“Nah . . . I’ll get used to it.” I winked and slid out of the booth.

Right on cue, my stomach growled again as I walked out of the
bathroom. Maybe I should eat after all. The booth Grant and I had been sitting
in was now occupied by Kylie and three other girls. I sat on a barstool next to
their table and ordered a basket of fries. Thank the Lord for comfort food.

The guilt I started to feel was beginning to expand into
self-loathing. I felt pulled in so many different directions. Even with Sam
gone, the feelings she had stirred remained. She had opened Pandora’s Box. I knew
I had been less than receptive to Grant since the engagement party. I was
distracted, preoccupied and well, quite frankly uninterested in anything he had
to say. I was angry and there was no way to pretend otherwise. A part of me
knew I found it easier to be angry at him than to let what I know to be true of
how my life had changed stream into my consciousness. I wasn’t ready for that
conversation with myself nor anyone else. Yet I knew I needed to treat him
better. It wasn’t his fault at all. I also knew just as strongly that Pandora’s
Box waited for me.

“Are we hitting Pineapple Post this weekend or what?” It was
Kylie’s voice. That woman had no decorum. Her loud voice was obscured as she
tried to talk around a large bite of food in her mouth. In fact, I pictured
tiny morsels flying out of her mouth to land on the table between the group of
girls. “Come on! It’s ladies’ night.”

“Ky, it’s the hottest new lesbian bar. It’s always ladies’ night.”
I didn’t recognize the girl’s voice but she sure had my attention.

Kylie’s laugh was piercing. “Exactly! And besides that the deejay
they’re having is fucking hot. H O T. Hot. I’d do her in a New York second.”
She shoved several fries dredged in ketchup into her mouth.

The group of girls carried on about the deejay and made plans not
to miss her on Saturday night. In fact, a round of drinks was on Kylie if she
wasn’t successful in convincing the deejay to dance with her before the night
was over. I played with the leftover French fries in my basket while I listened
to them. Pineapple Post had only recently opened a couple of months ago but it
had quickly developed the reputation as the place to be if you were a lesbian.
If there was any way Sam was still in Birmingham, I wagered she would go to the
new bar. In the deepest recess of my mind I knew she had left just as she had
said she would, but I couldn’t deny there was a small piece of me—okay, a
rather large piece of me—that wondered if she had transferred her residency to
one of the other affiliated hospitals and not actually moved away.

Chapter 3

MEMAW USED TO say if it rained the first day of the month then
more than half the days of the month would see rain. So far, her prediction was
spot on for this April. I had only walked a couple of blocks before the first
drops fell. I tried to protect myself from the falling rain by standing under a
canopy attached to the wall of a building in the seventeen-hundred block of
downtown. I knew the location because I had to search for a physical address
when I called for a cab.

The tree-lined streets of this block were one of my favorites in
the downtown Birmingham area. Even though the trees were dwarfed in comparison
to those back home, if I positioned myself just right under their branches they
were tall enough to block out some of the city’s lights.

I inhaled deeply to take in the smell of the freshly falling rain
but was choked with disappointment at the sickening mixture of exhaust fumes
and people’s waste. The voices of those walking along the crowded streets
permeated the air around me. They rose above the pitter patter of drops falling
on the cloth canopy to be all I could hear. I strained to listen beyond their
chatter. That was it really—the reason why I hated the city. Back home this
night would bring me peace. It would bring me smells and sounds of an entirely
different night life—the smell of rain as it dampened a field of new spring
grass and the sound of drops falling on the tree leaves above me.

A car horn blared as it pulled up quickly to the curb. “Hey, you
the lady calling for a cab?”

I tried to compose myself after he scared me
right out of my skin.

“Well, are you?”

“Uh . . . yeah, that was me.”

“Get to it, lady. I ain’t got all night.”

The stench of the cab overcame me as I opened the back door and
climbed in. So, this was what a boy’s locker room smelled like. Lovely.

“Where to?”

I stared out the window. Even with a complete stranger I found
myself intimidated, afraid to tell him where it was I wanted to go.

“Come on, lady. Out with it. Where to?”

“Ummmm . . . The Pineapple Post.”

The man turned in his seat to look at me. “You know it’s only
about three blocks in that direction.” He pointed out the front windshield.

“Yes, I know.”

“Sure thing, toots. It’s your dough not mine.” He flipped the
meter on and pulled out into the street.

What he didn’t know was the fact I had tried to make the short
walk a few times before this night. The closest I ever got was looking around
the corner of a building to see the bright yellow entrance door. Tonight a cab
driver would stop me right in front of the door with only a few steps needed on
my part.

He sped quickly past the door before taking a serious U-turn in
the road and braking hard in front of the entrance. “That’ll be fifteen bucks.”

I gave him a twenty and got out quickly. The aroma was a good
deterrent to me chickening out. There was no way I wanted to be a minute longer
with that odor absorbing into my skin.

I had not been to many bars in my life. A few scattered here and
there when I was in college but they were nothing like this place. I only
remember them to be not much more than a place to order a drink, couple of pool
tables and a small dance floor. This place was a nightclub. The long bar off to
the right was, in the simplest term, gorgeous. It was designed with different
stained wood colors and had lights underneath the bar which shined onto the
matching wooden bar stools. The overhanging lights were varied colors of reds
and oranges. Beyond that I would have to say it was also . . . empty . . . very
empty.

The sound of glass bottles clanking against one another came from
around the corner of the bar. A woman stepped into view. She hoisted the large
box onto the top of the bar and stopped to look at me. She rested her elbow
over the top of the box but didn’t say a word.

Suddenly, I was nervously aware she was
staring right at me . . . not saying a word yet . . . staring
right at me. I looked over each of my shoulders, hoping someone behind me had
walked in and caught her attention.

“Oh, honey, please tell me you’re meeting someone here.”

“Um, no . . . I’m not.”

She looked up at the ceiling. “Gonna be one of those nights.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re fresh meat in the meat market.” She started unpacking the
box of beer bottles.

“Are ya’ll open?” I looked around again but saw no one else.

The woman behind the counter looked at the watch on her wrist.
“You do realize it’s only eight o’clock, right?”

“Yes, I do. The phone recording said you
opened at seven-thirty.”

She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. Not that I expected it to sound
differently as her voice matched it in depth. “Yep, gonna be one of those
nights.” She motioned to the barstool in front of her. “What can I get ya to
drink?”

I don’t deny I was more than a little confused as to her meaning
but a drink sounded much needed at the moment. “I’ll take one of those beers.”
I used the step bar to take a seat onto the barstool. The woman looked like she
was a good six inches taller than my five-foot-four inches.

“One of these hot beers?” She held up a bottle from the box. “Or
one of these?” She reached behind her into the icy tray of beers. A piece of
crushed ice fell from the bottom of the bottle.

“One of those iced down ones looks pretty darn good.”

She popped the top and slid the bottle toward me. She folded her
arms as she leaned against the metal bin behind her. “Look at you. I haven’t
seen a fresh Bambi face like this in a really long time.” She reached back into
the ice bin and pulled out another beer, popped the top, and took a long swig.
“The girls are going to eat you up.” She pointed the neck of the bottle at me
and grinned. “And I do mean that literally.”

What? Wait . . . eeeeww. No, no. I’m not here for that.

All of her features were highlighted directly under the recessed
lighting and she was beautiful . . . like model beautiful. Even down to being a
touch too much on the skinny side. Her height probably didn’t help with that.
Her shoulders and neck were accentuated by the spaghetti strap shirt she wore.
The shirt material hugged her lean frame closely from her chest down to her
torso. The neck of the shirt formed a scoop underneath her collarbones which
left her olive-toned shoulders completely bare.

She cleared her throat, breaking me from my stare. She shook her
head. “What’s your name?”

“Rayne.”

“Cool name.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled broadly, showing off the two dimples in her cheeks.
“It’s unique. One you don’t forget when you’ve heard it.” She took another
swallow of her beer. “I’m Jazlyn.” She spoke over the neck of the bottle. “Not
that you asked or anything.”

“I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Nervous?”

“Uh . . . er . . .”

Jazlyn stepped closer to me and rested her elbows on the bar.
“You’ll be safe for a couple of hours. The place doesn’t start jumping until
well after ten.”

“Oh.” Memaw had a saying about dimples. She said they were the
marks left from an angel’s kiss. The angel must have loved giving Jazlyn kisses
because she had a cleft in her chin too. Her dimples kept shining as she had
yet to stop smiling at me.

She slapped her hand down on the bar. “How about a tour?”

“Sure.” I jumped down from the stool to meet her at the end of the
bar.

The rich red-and-gold color scheme followed us as we stepped down
two small stairs leading from the bar area onto the dance floor. Gold track
lighting illuminated the stairs while strands of red hung tightly against the
ceiling.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Jazlyn asked over her
shoulder as she walked across the dance floor to the deejay booth in the back
corner.

“Anything but country really.”

“Alright. Then you get to hear the mix I listen to while I get the
place ready for the night,” she said as she stepped up into the booth. “But
don’t you dare tell my deejay I was messing with her board. She’d have my ass.”

“Done.”

Within a couple of minutes the dance floor exploded in lights.
Large circles of gold-and-red designs moved in rhythm with the music now
playing through the elaborate speaker system. Exposed metal beams attached to
the ceiling hung a good twenty feet above me. Across the beams were a mix of
speakers, lights, and two large screen televisions.

“I love this song.”

“Me too. I have to pamper my ear drums a little before a night of
bass pounding techno.” Jazlyn walked under a monitor of Tracy Chapman singing
“Fast Car” as she came back toward me. She swung her arms out to the side. “So
this is this dance floor. Look at it now because in a couple of hours you won’t
see anything but women packed in here like sardines in a can.”

A flash of Memaw’s face smiling at me as she let a sardine dangle
over her open mouth popped into my head. I’d get those time and time again.
Flashes of memory of her face looking at me. I had yet to let them give me
anything but sadness. This time I looked up into the disco ball hanging over me
and let its light give me the illusion of spinning slowly in a circle.

“I’ve never seen a place like this before.”

“What? You’ve never been in a bar before? Oh,
you are a Bambi.”

“No, I’ve been in a bar before but not a bar like this. Not a . .
. club. The bars I’ve been in are just that . . . bars.”

Jazlyn laughed. “Well, then follow me.” She pointed down a hallway
in between a wall with another large screen television hanging on it. “Back
that way are the bathrooms. And then up this way.” She stepped up another set
of two stairs to a smaller bar area like the one in the main entrance. There
were no tables in this narrowed space but rather waist-high leather booths
along the left side of the wall. Small circular, pub-like tables were in front
of them.

“This is a small overflow bar.” She pointed to the bar on the
opposite wall. Shelves with glass bulb lights in their centers hung above the
liquor bottles. “Back here is what we call our sit and chat area.” She stepped
into an expanded doorway and sat on one of the big circular ottomans in the
center of the space. It was large enough to sit another three people
comfortably. “Have a seat.” She pointed to the booth seating attached to the
wall across from her.

I ran my fingers along the velvety drapes hanging along the wall.
Imbedded lighting in the vaulted ceiling and columns along the walls kept the
room bright enough to see Jazlyn sitting across from me but not so overpowering
to feel as if I was under a spotlight. I sat on the leather bench and let my
hand brush along the coolness of it.

“So what brings you out tonight?”

Tipping the bottle up for another drink, I realized I had consumed
it contents rather quickly as I only had one good swallow remaining. “I heard a
girl talking about it the other night at The Corner Café.”

“And you thought ‘Hey a lesbian bar. Think
I’ll check this out.’ ”

“No, not exactly.”

Jazlyn stood, walked to the overflow bar, stepped on the lower
rail, and bent over the counter to pull out two more beers. She flipped both
tops into the trash on the other end of the bar—no doubt a regular nightly
occurrence. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” She handed me one of
the bottles and sat facing me with her back against the wall. She bent her leg
to rest it on the seat between us. “So what do you think of the place?”

“It’s very nice. Not at all what I expected.”

“Oh what? You thought I’d run some hole in the wall dump?” She
laughed and tapped the neck of her bottle against mine.

I laughed which made her smile stretch even further. “No, I didn’t
mean that. Although, I’ve pretty much only seen those. Some smoke-filled space
with a few pool tables, lots of beer, and chairs you’re almost too nervous to
sit in because they look like they may break at any minute. This is very nice.”

“Thank you. I had trouble designing the color scheme. I really
wanted purple but with this being Alabama and LSU being such a rival, I thought
I better be safe.”

“You designed this place?”

“Yep, from the ground up. Or should I say from the start of
renovating this old building.”

“So, you’re the—”

“Owner.”

“Wow, very cool.” I looked at my watch. Surely the place was bound
to start hopping any minute now and I wasn’t overly sure I was ready for the
description she had given earlier. “It’s been very nice meeting you.”

She showed her dimples to me again. “But you
have to be going?”

“Yeah, I think I do. How much do I owe you?” I reached into my
pocket for money.

“It’s my treat.” She placed her hand on my forearm and squeezed.
“I enjoyed the company.”

Jazlyn walked me back toward the front of the club but stopped at
the main bar. “Hope to see you again, Bambi.”

Chapter 4

MY RESIDENCY WAS never the wiser to the internal struggles
imprisoning my mind. I’d come to face them as more than mere thoughts of Sam
lingered there. Buried in the center of me, I knew the development and
awareness of them was something to become more permanent in my life. How
permanent was the question I asked myself repeatedly? I let my dreams envision
Jazlyn’s club filled with a Saturday night myriad of women enjoying one
another’s company in conversation and dance.

“Hiya, Doc Storm.”

I hadn’t heard Angie’s footsteps along the freshly shined linoleum
tile floor. “How goes tonight?” She peered up over the nurses’ desk at me as I
made my way along my nightly traipse through the Emergency Room. Her
ever-changing hairstyle now sported short blonde spikes with a line of jet
black at the base behind her neck.

“It goes good, Angie.
Finishing up the night. Thought I would ward off evil spirits and take a
walkthrough the ER before heading home. Got anything brewing for me tonight?”
It had been a busy day. In fact I hadn’t even found the time nor the energy to
change out of my royal blue scrubs. The Betadine solution splatters across the
material had long been dried so I really didn’t mind them being there. I had
spent the majority of my day in the free clinic, managing wounds of all
varieties. Truly I dreamed of the only thing brewing to be my coffee pot at home
after a nice long shower.

“Can’t say that I have anything for you, Doc. But what I will say
is we don’t get to see enough of you down here since you changed to plastics.”

“Says who?” I snickered at the joy of missing the near nightly two
a.m. calls to the ER.

She snapped her head up. “Most everyone here who has to put up
with Dr. Dick. The jerk-wad that took your place. That’s who.” She looked back
down at the chart but then raised her head again. “But I think I’ve missed you
the most.” She slowly winked at me, exposing the thickly covered blue eyeshadow
she wore.

“Oh? Who is it that took my place?” I said hurriedly, trying to
speed along the conversation. “I don’t think I recognize a Dr. Dick in our
program. Perhaps he is a Urology transfer.”

I flinched at the shrillness of her loud laugh. “Damn, I miss your
humor. Almost as bad as I miss that beautiful smile of yours.”

There it is again. The wink . . . the compliment. Is she flirting?
“Oh
. . . ummm . . . thank you. So . . . what’s his real name?”

“Dr. Reed.” Angie stood from her station and motioned me toward
the medical supply room down the hallway. Away from earshot of the would-be
eavesdroppers, she turned to me. “Can I ask you something, Doc?”

“Sure. Although I must tell you my brain is fried. If it’s
something requiring medical deduction, I may need to catch you after a good
night of sleep.”

“Oh, I think you can handle it.” She pushed open the door to the
small room. We had only a small amount of space to stand as we were surrounded
by shelves filled with every kind of casting material, braces, and crutches
imaginable. “You know, Doc, I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time now, but
damn we’re always slammed when you’re here.”

“You can always call me when you need
something. You know that.”

“What I need . . . or well . . . rather want . . . is for you to
go to dinner with me. I can’t seem to get enough of you in the ER.”

“Oh. Ummm . . . well . . .” I took a deep breath. “Angie, I’m
flattered but I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.”

“Why? Because you don’t date coworkers?”

Date? “Uh . . . well for starters, I’m engaged.” Did I just do that?
Did I really just play that card? “But more importantly . . .”

“Gonorrhea! You gave me that bitch’s fucking nasty-ass disease!
I’ll kill you . . . you mother fucker!”

Angie and I jumped and began our sprint toward the sounds when we
heard yet another scream—this one deeper than the first followed by the loud
clanging of metal bedside tables falling to the floor.

Angie’s expression changed. I turned to notice noticed a man
staggering backward toward us. He turned to us. His eyes were filled with
terror as he desperately held his hand against the side of his neck. Bright red
blood flowed between his fingers and down to soak the collar of his shirt. The
escaping blood pulsed in rhythm as it continued to pour through the fingers of
his hand. The fear in his eyes turned to black as his pupils dilated before
rolling back under his eyelids.

“Holy shit!” I yelled as we ran toward him in unison. I grabbed
around his waist and felt the weight of his body against me as his knees
buckled. Angie and I maneuvered him gently to the ground. Crimson blood poured
freely through my fingers as I now tried to hold pressure upon the force of
blood escaping from his wound.

“Security! Security!” Angie screamed as she noticed the woman
stepping into the doorway. She held the black grip of a knife as she sprinted
toward us. Drops matching the red now soaking through my scrub pants trickled
from its blade.

“Get away from his sorry ass! I’m going to kill this mother fucker
and his nasty ass ho,” she yelled as she raised the blade high in the air.

The force of the two security men slammed into her and knocked her
against the side railing of the wall behind us.

“We’ve got her, Doctor,” the bigger of the two guys called over
his shoulder as her secured her against the wall with his arm across her neck.

The other guard had a hold of her hand and peeled the knife from
her grasp. Once the knife was secure, the guards swung her around and pressed
her face against the wall.

“Hold still, lady,” the first guard said.
“Ain’t nobody killing nobody on my watch.” He kept his arm pressed firmly
against her back.

“Let’s hope that’s true,” I muttered under my breath.

The bleeding was not slowing to pressure as I kneeled in a growing
pool of warm red. I could feel it against my skin as the scrubs were not much
of a barrier to the large quantity this man was rapidly losing.

“Call the surgery team, STAT!” Angie bellowed to the nurses and
doctors who were now running down the hall to our aid. “And get us a gurney.”

“Angie this bleeding isn’t slowing down. He’s going to bleed out
before that call is even made.” Looking over my shoulder, I tried to see what
supplies were readily available to me. Cast material, gauze, tape, splints,
suturing kits, Foley catheter, scissors. Wait, Foley catheter. “Grab me
that Foley. Get the largest diameter you have.”

“Here ya go. Surgery will be here in two minutes,” Angie said as
she handed me the sterile pack.

“Get it open. Give me the catheter and fill the syringe with
saline.” I quickly grabbed the catheter tip from her hands and passed it into
the one inch wound that ran along the side of his neck. “Let’s pray this
works.” I pushed the fluid from the syringe into the end of the catheter
effectively filling it to its full size. The filled bulb caused pressure inside
of the wound, squeezing off whatever vessels had been incised with the passage
of the blade. I slowly released my hand off of his neck and silently prayed the
pulsating blood would not follow. Nothing. The filled bulb moved in
rhythm with his pulse.

“Hot Damn, Doc. Would you look at that.”

“This only buys us a little time, Angie. He’s lost a lot of blood.
Where the hell is surgery?”

“Right here, Dr. Storm.”

I looked up and saw a mass of green scrubs with gurney in tow
sprinting their way down the hall. Their precision was synchronous as they
moved the man from the floor to the stretcher.

“I don’t know what vessels were cut. But the
way that son-of-a-bitch was pumping, my money is on the carotid,” I called to
the team as they hurried the gurney down the hall to the operating room.

“Thanks, Dr. Storm,” the anesthesiologist yelled over his shoulder
as the gurney turned the corner and out of my sight.

“I guess I better find you a clean pair of scrubs?” Angie said as
she looked down at my pants.

My once blue scrubs were now covered in blood. The front of the
pants were soaked while my shirt had swipes of blood across the front where I
had attempted to wipe the blood from my hands. “Yeah, I think I better get this
washed off too.”

“There’s a wash area in the women’s locker room behind the lounge.
I’ll meet you in there as soon as I get the scrubs from Central Supply.”

When a patient’s health was in danger, their care and life saving
measures were top priority. Unfortunately their modesty or privacy was of
minimal consideration at times of trauma or surgical needs. Over time
healthcare workers had been known to become immune to their own personal
shyness once the numbness to nudity had been experienced. I was no exception to
this long-lived urban legend of the operating room. My main concern was to
remove my clothing soiled in a stranger’s blood.

“Engaged, huh?” Angie asked as she entered the bathroom to find me
bending over the sink clad only in bra and panties.

One eyebrow was arched higher than the other as she took in the
full view of the pink satin material. I felt my face flush under her scrutiny.
A numbness to nudity and watching a woman visually appreciating your body were
two entirely things different. Yet this wasn’t a flush of embarrassment or
uneasiness, this was a flush of something else—something exciting. My body was
reacting to the way her eyes were drinking me in. The hunger she left so
blatant upon them was stirring my every reaction to her.

“Uh yeah, about that.”

“No explanation needed.” She held up a hand. “But it’s a damn fine
shame, Doc.” She placed the crisp new scrubs next to me on the counter before
turning to leave.

I splashed a handful of cold water on my face. The water ran down
my neck and over the gold chain that carried a cicada and cross. “Hey, Angie,
can I ask you something?” I patted my face with a towel and turned to her.

“Sure.”

“Did you . . . I mean why did you ask me out? Was it because you
thought I was gay? Something I did or do that makes you think I’m gay. Is that
why?”

“Nah.” She let her eyes unequivocally roam my skin again before
shrugging lightly. “I think you’re hot as hell. That’s why I asked. I’m not one
to horn in on someone else’s territory but for you I’d make an exception. If
you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I splashed another handful of water on my face and studied its
reflection in the mirror. The redness of my neck was the perfect defense to the
constant argument I had of late been having with my body’s unfaltering
yearnings.

“YOU’VE REACHED A number that is no longer in service or has been
disconnected. If you feel you’ve reached this recording in error, you may hang
up and dial again.” The computer-toned voice was mocking me in its fifth time
to repeat the message.

I wasn’t sure why I had dialed Sam’s number again, yet here I was
listening to the same recording. I suppose a part of me wished it to be in
error. I hoped one day it would miraculously be her voice instead of that God
awful recording piercing my ears. I stared at the piece of paper reminding
patrons tonight was DJ night with Pineapple Post opening at ten o’clock instead
of its usual time.

“You know, hovering outside of someone’s residence while trying to
peek into the window is actually a crime and could get you arrested. I’m not
sure orange is your color.”

I laughed as I turned to Jazlyn. She must have walked up from the
side of the building without my noticing. Geez, I have got to start paying
more attention. “Somehow I was thinking this was a place of business and
not someone’s home.”

She closed the distance between us with her long strides. “It’s
technically both as I live just up there.” She stretched her long arm up to point
over my shoulder. I could see light filtering through drawn curtains in an
expansive display of windows. “My guess is you aren’t planning on staying yet
again but I’m not opening until later.”

“Yeah, I read that,” I said, looking back at the sign on the door.
“And . . . hey, how do you know if I was . . . am planning on staying tonight?”

She laughed a deep throaty laugh. “Um, because you’re in scrubs
and a t-shirt.” I followed her finger as she motioned down at my
betadine-covered clogs. “And not in your dancing shoes.”

“Very observant.”

She shrugged. “I’m a bartender. Comes with the territory.” She
turned her head toward the street. The blackened asphalt was moistened with a
fresh sprinkling of rain which reflected the lights of passing cars. “When did
it rain?”

“Not long ago. Was just a sprinkle.”

Jazlyn turned back at me. “I can offer you a drink but first you
have to keep me company.” She pointed down the street. “Care to take a walk
with me?”

“Sure.” I stepped beside her for fear of being quickly lost once
her long legs began their walk. “Where are we headed?”

“To get my Thai take out. I’m starving.”

The leaves of the small Bradford pear tree stirred against the
light breeze that followed us as we stepped off the curb into the street. I let
my hand trace down its rough bark as we passed the tree standing alone among
lines of parallel-parked cars.

“But wait, isn’t the Thai place on this side of the street.”

Jazlyn, already a good two to three steps ahead of me, turned
around and walked backward. “Well, yeah, but then we couldn’t walk under the
Alabama sign.”

Above Jazlyn’s head was the sign proclaiming the site of the old
movie theater.

“Ummm . . . okay.”

She held her hands out for me as we reached the sidewalk under the
sign. She moved me to stand directly under the vertical sign with bright
red-light bulb lettering against a blue tile looking back drop.

“Now, look up,” she instructed before standing next to me and
doing the same. The brightness of the bulbs burned my eyes but I refused to
close them. They stretched into the sky nearly as far as I could see . . . as
brilliant as the stars just beyond them.

“This place was built in 1927, opening the day after Christmas
that year.” Her voice was strained as she kept her neck stretched upwardly. A
smile crept across her face. “It’s one of the few remaining theaters seating up
to twenty-five hundred people from that era. Look at those windows.”

The glass had a bluish tint as it contrasted against the rustic
brick. The panes were separated by thin pieces of wood.

“Do you know it was the first public building in Alabama to have
air conditioning?” She looked down at me with a child-like innocence of
excitement.

Her happiness in describing the building was contagious as I felt
the confusing dread of the day disappear. “I did not know that.”

“Come here.” She took my hand again to pull me to the large window
next to the entrance. “Look . . . look in here. See that?” She tapped the
glass.

Sitting in front of a long golden drape was an expansive red and
golden ornate organ. It was an elaborate instrument with four rows of ebony and
ivory keys in front of a rather odd-shaped seat.

“This little baby saved the place. You’re looking at a Crawford
Special-Publix One-Might Wurlitzer organ.” She stepped back and looked across
the front of the building. “Originally they played silent films here. The
American Theater Organ Society stepped in when they were set to plow this place
down to make a parking lot. Can you believe that? A parking lot.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Jazlyn looked directly at me and shrugged. “It’s my thing.” She
stepped away from the building to walk down the sidewalk.

“Your thing?” I sprinted to catch up with her. “What do you mean?”

“My thing. You know the thing that calms you when you’re stressed,
makes you happy when you’re sad, comforts you when you’re lost. My go to—my
thing. What’s yours?”

I stopped momentarily, trying to think of what it is that calmed
me when nothing else could. Unfortunately, I had felt anything but calmness in
a very long time.

“I don’t think I have a go to.”

“Sure you do,” she said as she shrugged. “You just haven’t figured
out what it is yet.”

SADNESS TOOK OVER and threatened to smother the happiness I had
felt walking with Jazlyn. Her loft reminded me so of Sam’s renovated warehouse
of downtown Birmingham. The same but different. Find the difference, Rayne.
It was a narrower space than Sam’s, more like the shotgun homes of Louisiana.
The walls were stark white with accents of natural pinewood, chrome metal, and
black. Different but the same. Breath . . . slow steady breaths. No tears.

Jazlyn walked in behind me. “Make yourself at home.” She passed by
me. “I’ll put some music on and set the table.”

“Oh no. I can’t eat your food. You weren’t planning on company
tonight.”

“Honey, I was starving when I ordered so I can assure you there is
enough here to feed you, me, and a small army.”

The metal was cold against my fingertips as
I ran them along the back of the loveseat. My hand became enveloped in the
plushness of the sofa’s blackened material as it slid in between the cushions. Jazlyn
walked to the music system on top of the pinewood knee-high
shelving. Soon the slow sounds of a trumpet bellowed through the speakers
joined shortly after by a violin’s strings before a woman’s voice—sultry,
smooth—sang among them.

“Ah, yes,” she murmured.

“Who is this?”

She stopped and let her head seemingly drift into the music
bouncing off the walls and metal ceiling. “This is the First Lady of Song, Ella
Fitzgerald. I hear her voice and I can’t help but to want Lady Ella to sing to
me all night long.”

Above us hung large chrome pendants mimicking the size of the disco
balls I had seen my last visit to the club one floor below. The club?
“Doesn’t the club noise get loud up here at night?”

“Not that Lady Ella couldn’t be heard over any noise but I help
her a little. The walls are sound proof. I hear nothing but her.” She let her
hips sway to a snare drum’s beat as she set places for us to eat. “My friend,
Mo, introduced me to jazz several years ago. She’s one of those that listens to
anything and everything. Music—it’s her thing.”

The table’s modern feel matched the rest of the loft. The bright
white chairs and table reminded me of elementary school days with its simple
plastic design. The wall to wall windows were separated by a large white beam
but instead of downtown city lights shining through, I saw only white-washed
reddened brick. Different.

She wore her hair down tonight. I watched the length fall across
her face as she leaned over to set the table. “What do you want to drink? I
have beer, wine, or I could make you a mixed drink. Oh and of course, water.
But who wants that with Thai?” She tucked the fallen strands of hair behind her
ear as she looked back at me.

“A beer would be great.”

“Thought you might say that. No problem but will you at least
taste this wine I’m going to open? I’ll feel foolish opening a bottle to drink
all by my lonesome.”

“Sure, but I gotta tell you, I never really
developed a taste for it.”

“But see,” she said, smiling broadly, “you’re open to it. You said
you haven’t yet, not I don’t like it. It’s all about pairing the right wine
with the right setting and the right palate.”

“Jazz. Wine. Club owner. You keep surprising me.” I pulled the
plastic chair away from the table to take a seat.

“It’s all about the company you keep. I learn a lot from my
friends.” She filled two stemless wine glasses with wine and set one in front
of me. “This is a Riesling. It has a kiss of sweetness which mixes well with
the spices of Thai food. Taste it for now but hold your reservations until
after we start to eat. Which is in two seconds. I’m starving.” She laughed and
sat down behind a row of take-out containers. “See I told you there would be
enough. Hope you like spicy.”

“I’m from Louisiana. Spicy is all we know.”

“Then let’s start with this.” She handed me a bowl filled with a
greenish liquid topped with fresh basil and sliced red pepper. “This is green
curry chicken. The green curry paste is one of the spiciest of the curries.”

She was right. The sweetness of the Riesling softened the bite of
the spice and was a really good combination.

Her dimples gave the telltale sign of a
beginning smile as if she knew the swirling tastes were having a party in my mouth. “So . .
. good? Or should I still get you that beer?”

“No, you’re right.” I took another bite of food and sip of wine.
“This is excellent.”

“Wonderful. I was hoping you would like it.” She pointed her spoon
in my direction. “Not that I don’t enjoy your unexpected company tonight but
what brings you to the club? I mean scrubs are hot alright but not the typical
attire for a night out.”

She had Sam’s ability to make me smile. Different but the same.
“I don’t know. Had a pretty big day and thought I could use a drink before
going home.”

“Simple enough but you came to a lesbian bar to get said drink.”

I stirred my spoon around the bowl before
taking another bite. “Yeah.”

“Forgive me for asking the obvious.” She let her spoon rest
against its bowl and focused her attention on me. Her cheekbones seemed to
stretch up to the corner of her eyes. Eyes of dark chocolate now stared
directly at me. “Are you a lesbian?”

And there it was . . . lesbian. The word that strangled in
my throat and cut off my speech. Lesbian. Hadn’t it scrambled my insides
each time I heard it pass from Sam’s lips? Wasn’t it now burning within me
again?

Jazlyn wrapped her long fingers around my
hand as it lay frozen on the table. “You’re safe here. Safe to express what you
feel. Safe to express what you know and even what you don’t know.” Her fingers
tightened around mine. “There’s no judgement or pressure. No family. No woman
sitting across from you, holding onto your every word—waiting to hear what she
hopes you’ll say.” She rubbed her thumb tenderly across the back of my hand.
“It’s just a friend.”

“Baby, I’m home.”

The front door opened widely and made me jump in my seat. Jazlyn
must have been startled as well because she released my hand quickly. If it
weren’t for the unexpected forceful opening of the door, the sight of Dr.
Breaker dressed in her salmon-colored obstetrics scrubs surely would have
caused the same surprise in me. Her usually spiked hair was flattened on her
head. No doubt from wearing a scrub cap most of the day.

She stopped dead in the doorway. “What is she doing here?”
Her tone was sharp, if not angry.

Jazlyn slid her chair back and walked to her, holding her hands
out. “I saw her outside the club when I was leaving to grab dinner.”

“I’m sorry but how does her being outside your club end up with
her in my house having dinner and wine with my wife?”

Wife?

Dr. Beaker slammed the door. The chain lock tapped against the metal
door repeatedly until it slowed to silence. “I’m sorry but is that jazz I
hear?”

“Violet, come on. I’m just having company for dinner on a night
you’re on call.” Jazlyn ran her hands down Dr. Breaker’s creamed-coffee colored
arms before taking her hands within hers. “You told me you were stuck at the
hospital. I wasn’t expecting you home.”

“What? That makes it alright.” She looked at me with very near the
same color of brown eyes Jazlyn had used to search mine. Yet, these didn’t seem
to harbor the same tenderness. “Whatever.” She stomped on the metal stairs as
she ascended the staircase toward the clear glass wall that lined the upper
loft area. She quickly disappeared from sight.

I stood from my seat with only a quick exit on my mind.

Jazlyn turned around. “No. Please sit.” She held up her hand.
“Don’t go.”

“Jazlyn, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay.” I
wanted to get the hell out of there before Dr. Breaker came barreling back down
the stairs.

“Please, Rayne. I’m asking you to stay. Please. Just give me a
minute to go talk to her. I promise this is a misunderstanding and will all be
okay.”

I sat back down and watched her follow Dr.
Breaker up the stairs.

The acoustics in the apartment that had complemented the music
circulating behind our conversation became a megaphone to their upstairs
argument.

“Baby, why are you so upset? I’ve had friends over before.”

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends. I know this isn’t some sort of jealousy. We
don’t do that . . . you don’t do that. So, what is it?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” Dr. Breaker’s voice was so loud I had to
look around to ensure she wasn’t standing right beside me. “That woman is not
a friend and she never will be.”

“Ah, so we’re now entering a phase where you’ll dictate who or who
isn’t my friend? I’m sorry I didn’t realize we had grown to be this couple
where I had to ask your permission before I made a new friend.”

“And what about our friend?”

“You mean your friend.”

“No, I mean our friend,” Dr. Breaker said as if through
gritted teeth. “Do you not remember what she did to Sam?”

Sam! Did she say Sam?

“Do you not remember her crying night after night after night over
what that girl down there did to her? Because I remember it very well!” She was
yelling at this point. “I also remember the fact that she was so destroyed I
had to find a residency to take her before her whole career went down the
toilet.”

“Of course I remember and you know I like Sam but we heard only
one side of the story. Don’t you think there may be two sides to this?”

“Is this about her or about you?” I heard their footsteps seconds
before seeing them appear at the top of the stairs. “All of that is in the past
and there it will stay.” Dr. Breaker stopped on the bottom step and looked
directly at me. “I’m going back to the hospital. Enjoy my dinner.” She
snarled at me and walked out the door.

What the hell was all of that?

“Sam? Did she say Sam?” I couldn’t stand. My legs wouldn’t allow
it.

Jazlyn held her palm flat against the door
that had now been slammed twice this evening. She didn’t turn back to me. “Yes.
She said Sam.”

“So, you know who I am? You know about Sam? You know about me and
Sam?”

“Yes.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Yes, I do.”

“Then why? Why bring me here? Why pretend to
be my friend?”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Then why?”

She turned around and leaned against the door. “Because I
remember.”

“Remember what?” None of this was making any
sense. Sam . . . my Sam had been here. Sam knew them. I rubbed the charm
at the base of my neck.

“What it was like when I met Violet. How hard it all seemed. We
aren’t so different you and I.” She returned to her chair. “Except I wasn’t
engaged.” She paused as she tapped her finger against her chin. “I was
married.”

“Married?”

“Yes. He and I had been married only a few years when I met
Violet. I fell in love with her instantly. Everything in my life seemed to make
perfect sense, yet at the same time be the most confusing of my entire life. I
think we both may need more of this.” She topped off our wine glasses and shook
the empty bottle. “And if we have more of this, I know we need more of this.”
She filled the bottom of our empty bowls with rice and covered it with a shrimp
sauce. “I’m sorry, but I have got to eat more or I’ll never make the night.
This is tom yam goong.” Her voice didn’t hold the same excitement as she
described the dish.

I passed my spoon through the food,
releasing the aroma of lemongrass, lime, and shallots. The kick of the chilies
and fish sauce was chased with perhaps too large of a swallow of the Riesling.

“Let’s go back to the question at hand and you answer with all
honesty. Remember, I have sat where you are. I have felt the tornado of
feelings inside of you. Lived through the not knowing of what was next. What
could possibly be next?” She slowly chewed a bite of her shrimp dish as if
giving me time to process what she had said. “Are you a lesbian?”

I took another swallow of wine. This time I was certain it was too
large of a swallow as I didn’t taste the flavors on my palate but rather felt
the burn of the alcohol in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t.” I shook my head. What
is the answer? Why did I not have the answer? “I don’t know.”

She tipped her wine glass to me. “Now there’s
an honest answer.”

“But shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I know if I am gay or not? I mean
hell, who else is going to know if I don’t?”

“Then shouldn’t you give yourself time to answer the question
before you answer it for someone else?”

I bit my lip as I stared up into the pendent light hanging above
the table.

“Ask.”

I looked at her.

“Ask me what you’re thinking.”

I bit my lip again for fear of invading a personal memory for her,
but who else could answer better than her. “What was it like with your
husband?”

“He was my best friend. I loved him for all that he was and all
that we had in common. I loved him for the strength of his love for me. But I
was never in love with him the way I was instantly drawn to Violet.”

“Did you know you had feelings for women before her?”

“Not really. I knew something was different but I had never pegged
it.”

“When did you know?”

Jazlyn let a smile sweep across her lips. I could tell she had
been transported to a moment in time. “When she kissed me. I don’t think I’d
ever been kissed before that kiss. I’d never been kissed to where I felt
everything she hadn’t told me in words.”

I felt the tears wet my eyes. Sam’s kiss still burned my lips in
my dreams. I felt the tingle in them with the thought of her lips against mine.
I shook my head against the memory of it.

“No, me either,” I whispered.

She seemed to sense the pain building up inside of me waiting to
topple any strength I had tried to convince myself I had. She sat down next to
me, took my hand, and turned me in my chair to face her. Her eyes were soft.
She let out a deep breath.

“Aw hell, honey, do I remember what you’re feeling. That feeling
of brokenness and confusion with no right answer in front of you.” She wiped a
fallen tear with her thumb. “Believe me when I say this.” She cupped my face in
her hands. “It will get better. I promise you won’t always feel this. You’ll
find your answer for yourself and then you’ll forge ahead. There will be a day
when all of this shit you are feeling now won’t be much more than a blink of a
memory.” She pulled me against her chest.

I dampened her shirt with thoughts of the tears falling from Sam’s
eyes as she said her goodbye. “But I’ve lost her.”

I wasn’t sure if I had spoken the words out loud or left them to
be mumbled against the cloth of her shirt. Either which way, she didn’t answer.

“HEY!” GRANT JUMPED over the arm of my sofa and ran to me as I
walked in through the front door. “Where have you been?”

“What are you doing here?” For a brief moment, I wondered if my
tone was as abrasive as I felt it to be.

The look on Grant’s face took every bit of the questioning away.
He stopped before reaching me. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said with less
excitement than before. “I wanted to see you.”

“I’m sorry.” I walked over to him and took his hands in mine.
“Really, I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was caught off guard
when I opened the door but I still shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

The enthusiasm returned to his face. “It’s
okay. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Yes. It’s been one helluva day.”

“I know. I heard.” He squeezed my hand and shook it a little.
“It’s all over the hospital.” He turned to walk back to the couch and pulled my
arm to follow him. “I bought us some beer and pizza to celebrate. I’ve sort of
already started eating and well . . . drinking but I saved you some.”

“People are talking about it, huh?”

“Not just some people. I mean everyone is talking about it.
Damn girl . . . a Foley catheter? How in the hell did you pull that one off?”

I shrugged before collapsing onto the couch. “I don’t know. It
just came to me. I’d read about it a while back in a trauma journal but thought
there was no way it would work. Damn if it didn’t. Did you hear how he did?”

“Hear? I was in the case. His carotid was toast but we were able
to repair it with a nice size graft. He’ll be fine,” he said talking around a
bite of pizza. “Until he goes home that is.” He laughed and handed me a slice.

“I’m not hungry but thanks.”

He held up a beer. “How about one of these?”

“One of those I can do.”

“So, where have you been? I got here like an hour ago.” He started
eating the piece of pizza I had rejected. “I was afraid there wasn’t going to
be any pizza left for you.” He smiled as he pointed the last piece at me.

“I was pretty wound up after leaving the hospital so I stopped off
for a drink.”

He looked at me with surprise. “By yourself?”

I nodded.

“But that doesn’t sound like you. You don’t really like bars much
less want to go to one by yourself.”

“I know. I just couldn’t come home right after.”

He tossed the unfinished slice back into the box and turned to me.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of it upsetting you.” He scooted closer
to me on the couch as he raised my hand off of my lap to rest it in his.
“Sometimes I get so wrapped up in cases and stuff that I forget about emotions.
I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand all the while feeling like a
complete ass because it wasn’t truly the traumatic event in the ER that kept me
from coming home tonight. It was then I recognized my own disconnection. A
man’s life was held within my hands. His blood had soaked my scrubs. It was a
haunting realization to know it was the Pineapple Post and Jazlyn to where I
ran instead of Grant.

“No, it’s really not.” His whiskers scratched my forehead as he
laid a gentle kiss there. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes. “I was so
proud of you, Rayne. When the whole OR was talking about what you did . . . how
you did it . . . and how composed you were.” He shook his head a little. “I was
just so damn proud of you. I sat there in the case thinking, ‘My fiancée did
this. My fiancée saved this man’s life.’ I’ve never been more proud of us.”

He leaned in and kissed me. A soft kiss. I felt guilty—ashamed of
my selfish behavior where he was concerned. Yes, I had become disconnected in
so many ways. I suppose that’s why I didn’t dodge the deepening of the kiss as
I had done many times before. He seemed to notice as he pulled me in closer.

“I’ve missed you . . . missed this so much,” he moaned
against my lips as he let his hand travel down the front of my t-shirt.

I tried desperately not to flinch when he squeezed my breast. At
first I feared he had noticed when he pulled away from me but then I quickly
realized he was standing for other reasons as he reached down for my hand. I
searched his face—the scar in his left eyebrow
which reminded me of the little boy in the man’s body . . . the freckle
on his bottom lip that I used to focus on before each kiss when we had first
started dating.

Those things helped me to see the man behind my questioning of
finding an answer to my sexuality. They helped me to see Grant. I did love him
for who he was and who he had always been to me. He was a man who had the same
drive and ambition as I did. We both wanted to return back home to care for the
family and friends of the town that raised us. Our future was our goal which
made it so incredibly easy to be with him. I didn’t have to concentrate on our
relationship nor give it quality time as Grant and I just were. We moved in the
ebb and flow of us with ease.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew the ease and
comfort of us was my only attraction to being engaged to him. He was my
friend—my companion. Now, he needed me to give to him the things he needed to
stay in the comfort of us. He needed to feel we were okay. Caught in the
tangled mix of those feelings, I stood and took his hand.

THE TEARS WHERE silent as they dampened the pillow to the sound of
Grant’s slumbering breath against my ear. He had been soft and tender during
our love making. Love making. There’s a fitting description. Although
the full meaning of the description to me is probably far different from those
when they describe the act he and I had shared. For most, I would think it to
be a connection filled with expressions of being in love with one another. For
me, it was a way for me to show how much I truly did love the man lying behind
me. It was no longer a feeling of being in love with him but more a feeling of
not wanting to see hurt or rejection in the eyes of a man who had always
treated me well. A man who had his whole future planned around sharing a life
with the woman he loved.

The tears began to fall readily as my heart screamed at the pain
of knowing this was a future I no longer thought I could live. I loved him but
even in the height of feeling this emotion with him, the act of expressing that
love left me crying silently against my pillow. These were nights I knew I
could not bear for the rest of my life.

Chapter 5

“I WASN’T SURE you’d be back.”

“You asked me what brought me out the other night,” I said quickly
so as to get the words out before they became lodged within me.

Jazlyn paused the rag in her hand in a mid-circular swipe on the
bar. She seemed to know my strength dangled from a delicate thread. Perhaps it
was the slow, cautious steps I took toward the bar. Perhaps it was my hands
buried deep into my jean pockets that gave it away. I’m not sure which it was
but there she stood, frozen, waiting on my next words. And why weren’t they
flowing as effortlessly as I had practiced them on my walk to the Pineapple
Post? Hadn’t I prepared the perfect speech? I pulled the heavy barstool away
from the bar and climbed to a seat. I let out a deep sigh as I pinched the
bridge of my nose.

Jazlyn took two beers from the ice-filled tray. She clasped her
hand over mine as she handed me the bottle. “On the house. Looks like we may
need this.”

“I think you’re my only friend.” I took a long swallow of the
beer. “How sad is that?”

“Hey now. I may take offense to that.”

I snapped my head up to look at her. “No, I didn’t mean it like
that. I . . . I meant . . .”

She tapped my hand with hers. “Sister, I’m only
joking. Now spill.”

“You asked me why I had come in that night.”

“Mmm hmmm.” She hummed over the neck of her bottle as she took in
her first sip.

“It wasn’t the absolutely crazy trauma I had
earlier in the evening but the conversation I had before it.” I picked at a
knot left rough in the otherwise smooth bar. “I was asked out. A nurse . . . a
female nurse asked me out to dinner.”

“Ah.” She took another sip as if giving me the pacing I needed by
holding her words.

“She had pulled me to a supply closet to talk to me. That’s when
she did it. When she asked me out on a date.”

“And . . . how did you feel about it?”

“It scared the hell outta me at first. Inside I was freaking out
because I wondered what she saw. What was I doing to make her think . . . to
make her think I was that way.” I remembered the sickening swirl I had
felt in the pit of my stomach when Angie had asked me out. “But then I got this
other feeling.”

I looked at her, hoping she would fill in the blanks for me—hoping
she would ask more questions I could answer instead of continuing to pour my
thoughts out across the bar. She stood motionless except for two quick blinks
of her eyes as if to say, Please continue.

“Afterwards I felt exuberant, exhilarated. It was exciting her
asking me out.”

She took a swallow of beer. I had very nearly forgotten about my
own and took a large swig.

“Did you accept her invitation?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

She tossed the rag from the top of the bar over her shoulder and
rubbed her fingers in its end.

“I didn’t want to accept. I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t look at
her in that way. I’m not attracted to her physically.” I lifted the bottle and
drained the last of the beer. Apparently, I had made up for lost time. “So,
when you asked me if I was a lesbian—if I am a lesbian. I don’t know how
to answer. Wouldn’t I have been attracted to her and wanting to go out with her
if I was?”

Jazlyn gave me a low chuckle as if it had started deep in her
chest. “Oh, honey, no not at all. You don’t have to be attracted to every
woman to be a lesbian.”

“And if I’ve only ever been attracted to one?”

“Well, my friend, that just means you’ve got a
hurting lesbian heart.”

“I’ve tried to call her . . . to text her.”

“She changed her number.” Her voice was soft.

I sucked in a breath, trying to force back the lump in my throat.
“I know.” I couldn’t hide the sadness in my voice. I looked up at the ceiling
to try to stop the trail of tears that seemed to believe they belonged upon my
cheeks. “I’ve lost her. She doesn’t ever want to hear from me again.”

“I can’t say necessarily if that is true or not. I think time is
what’s needed here.” She reached across the counter and squeezed my hand before
taking my empty bottle. “Time for both of you.”

“So you don’t think it’s over?”

“I don’t honestly know, my friend. But . . .
are you ready for it to be now? Don’t you have some things you need to work out
for yourself before you try to save or salvage a relationship with Sam?”

I nodded because I knew she was right.

She handed me a fresh beer. “Then hold the worry for what will or
won’t be until you get those things worked out. Okay?”

I felt like a bobble head doll as I sat on the stool constantly
shaking my head up and down in agreement with her. I knew she was right. I did.
Yet all of the things she talked about seemed so very hard to do. I wanted to
be with Sam again. In her arms I felt a happiness in life I had not known
before. I ached to feel it again but there were so many obstacles between me
and that dream . . . two of which had little to do with Sam.

One was centered around a man who had held me in his arms the
night before and the other around a town who had held me in their arms my whole
life. Letting go of both of them pained my heart. I didn’t want a life where I
didn’t know Grant. It hurt to think of living special events in my life and not
being able to share them with my friend. We had been taking the biggest step of
our lives together. Selfishly, I didn’t want to lose my friend. The town was
something else altogether.

“Hey, Jazlyn?” I looked up from staring at the wooden bar to see
she was already looking at me. My guess is she had watched me the whole time I
had been sitting silently.

“Yes,” she said soothingly.

“You left home, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Why? Did you have to? Were you not welcome any longer when you
came out?”

“No, not exactly.” She leaned back against the opposite bar and
tossed the rag behind her shoulder. “Of course it was hard with Zach and his
family after I filed for divorce. It was hard on all of us. I missed them. I
missed him.”

“Is that why you moved away?”

“Maybe a part of why but not all of it. There wasn’t really
anything there for me any longer. Not anything that brought me happiness. Vi .
. . she was what made me happy. Shortly after the divorce she got this great
opportunity with a large OB group. I moved with her and the rest as they say is
history.”

“You never went back?”

“No. I never did. With our first move, I was only two hours away.
A few times I got in my car to go back but before I was halfway there I had
turned around and gone back home. There was nothing there for me anymore.” She
took a swallow of beer. “I had found my life. There was no going back after
that.”

I felt the sadness build in me as if it was an erupting volcano
about to spill over. The heat of its lava burned my stomach.

“Hey?”

I swallowed hard in an attempt to keep the tears down.

She put her hand over the top of mine. “Just because that’s how it
worked out for me. Just because that’s what was best for my life doesn’t in
anyway mean it’s what will happen in yours. You know that right? Accepting who
we fundamentally are doesn’t mean the same future for everyone. Nothing says
you can’t go home. Nothing says you can’t be exactly who you want to be
and still be true to yourself.” She squeezed my hand. “You get that right?”

“Yeah. I guess a part of me knows that but the hard truth is it’s
a really small town with even smaller values. As you said, fundamentally we are
who we are. In this town, there’s a rhythm. Even if you overlook the religious
stuff, there’s still this expectation the town has for its kids. They grow up,
get married, and have kids of their own. It’s a cycle of everyone doing and
being the same. I won’t fit into that anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“What do you mean why?” I said with confusion.

“Just that. Why won’t you fit in anymore? Why can’t you have
exactly what you just said?”

“Because . . . well . . . because I would be different.”

“We are all different, Love. All of us. It’s what makes this world
grand. Home is where your heart takes you. If you search past your fears to
remember the hearts of the people you want to go back home to, do you really
think they’ll not want you back if you’re a lesbian?”

Faces of those back home flashed across my mind—Flossie, Cora,
Mrs. Bell. They were all smiling at me as they came into my mind. Then Charlie
Grace’s face came into view. Hers held a much different expression.

She patted my hand. “Don’t answer now. Just think about it.” All
of a sudden she slammed the palm of her hand down on the bar. The sound almost
caused me to fall from the stool. “What are you doing this weekend?”

This weekend. Maybe that was it? The reason the tears would find me alone and
flood my eyes with their sting. This weekend was Memorial Day Weekend. The weekend
I danced with Sam to the music of Memaw’s laugh and country tunes under a
blanket of stars. The weekend Sam stole my breath, captured my heart, and
overpowered my every thought with her lips and tongue soft against my own. The
weekend I first felt my body begin to lose control within the arms of another. Sam.

“Are you working or off?”

“I’m off.”

“Do you have plans?”

Plans? Yes, to stay as far away from Louisiana as possible. “No, no plans.”

Jazlyn burst into a beaming smile. “Then come with us.” She grabbed
both of my hands across the bar. “Come with us to the beach. We’re going down
to our condo in Seaside. One of my very best friends is meeting us there. It’s
the neatest little beach environment. We’re going to have a blast.”

I leaned away from the bar, shaking my head. “I don’t know about
that.”

“No. It’s perfect. It’s just what you need. A relaxing getaway of
sun, surf, and friends.”

“I’m not sure Dr. Breaker would be too keen on the idea. I don’t
think she’s my biggest fan nor would she consider me a friend.”

Jazlyn swooped both of our empty beer bottles off of the bar in
one motion and tossed them in the plastic trash can behind her. “She’s a
pussycat outside of the hospital.” She reached into the ice to steal two more
beers. She popped the tops, twirled the bottle opener around her finger, and
tucked it into her back pocket. “You let me worry about her.”

“I seriously doubt she is.” I pulled the beer close to me. “And
you can have every bit of that worry because that pussycat scares the daylights
out of me.”

“So is that a yes?”

Sam. Meems. A bayou without either. “Are you really
sure she won’t mind or get mad at you?”

“One hundred percent sure.”

“Then yeah, that’s a yes.”

She tapped the neck of her beer against mine. “Hot damn.”

Chapter 6

I HAD MISSED the sunset the Friday night we arrived in Seaside.
Both Dr. Breaker and I had each been forced to stay at the hospital longer than
anticipated, which put us on the road in the evening. I would have found the
silence of the backseat awkward had I not realized early into the trip that Dr.
Breaker . . . Violet, had fallen asleep. Occasionally I would look away from
the darkness beyond the passenger glass to see Jazlyn’s eyes watching me in the
rearview mirror. Sleep had eluded me on the night’s drive just as it had the
many nights before.

I sat out on the balcony of the fifth floor condo, watching the
painting before me. The mix of emerald and crystal blue waters stretched as far
as I could see. The silhouette of seagulls perched atop their twig-like legs
scurried along the shore line. No doubt they hunted for crumbs which may have
been left behind from those who had occupied the beach in the prime of day. I
couldn’t hear the ones found closest to the shore but the grunting squawk seemed
to be all around the balcony as they flew about from one group to the next. I
watched the scurry of the last few beach goers packing up their day’s
essentials as they darted in and out from under the condominium’s royal blue
umbrellas. The sun was all but tiny streams of bright light bursting from
around thickened clouds. The low-lying purple masses with their outline of
colored rose rested just above the surface of the water.

“Mind some company?”

I hadn’t heard or noticed Jazlyn come up behind me. “No, not at
all. I’d like it.”

“Vi’s getting dressed. Thought I’d come out and sit with you
before starting dinner.”

“I didn’t know you were cooking.”

“I’m making Mo’s favorite. She should be here in an hour or so.
Did you have a good day?”

“Oh, definitely. You’re so right. This place is amazing. It’s not
the beach scene I imagined.” She was right with her descriptions of the water.
I’d not ever seen water this clear. I had been able to still see my feet
standing on the sandy bottom while in chest-deep water. “The water felt great.
I’ve never been to an ocean like this before. All we ever did growing up was go
with Jacques to Grand Isle to do deep sea fishing. I can assure you that water
was anything but clear.”

She scooted one of the patio chairs over close to the edge of the
balcony and stretched her legs out across the railing. “You and Vi seemed to be
getting along okay. I told you she’d be fine once she was around you.”

“She’s been nice.” Reserved but cordial.

Dr. Breaker had put on her best behavior for the weekend. I could
sense that from her. She was nice but not what I would term pleasant. She was
tolerating me but not open. The tone of her voice was different when she spoke
of or to me versus the one she shared with Jazlyn. I could tell her acceptance of
me on the trip was for Jazlyn’s and not my benefit. It was yet another reason I
was envious of them. The second-nature affection shared between them when their
bodies came in close contact, the side glances when a smile was shared, and the
sacrifices made to ensure the other’s ease or happiness, all of these things I
watched in longing. All of these things I knew I did not have with Grant . . .
knew I could have had if only I would’ve had the strength to make different
choices not so long ago.

“So . . . tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“About?”

“You looked deep in thought when I came out here.”

I turned in my chair to face Jazlyn. “Thank you for bringing me
here.” Thank you for taking me away from the cruel reality of those choices.

“You’re very welcome.” She stretched her long arms over her head
as she arched her back in the chair. “But those worry lines on your face sure
seem to point to something else on your mind.”

“The last place I wanted to be this weekend was back home.”

The tightness in my chest obstructed any answer I could have given
Grant when he mentioned us going home for the long weekend. Before the
engagement I could hardly get him to go but now it seemed as if that was all he
wanted to do. I swear he and Charlie Grace were looking at real estate property
for our offices. Which I found entirely silly as we weren’t even near finishing
our residencies. But if it kept them occupied with each other, who was I to
argue? Besides, Grant was on a mission of looking solely at commercial property
instead of considering any residential listings. This sat well with me. Viewing
homes or offices for the purpose of establishing my dream of practicing back
home was much easier to handle than a home with the hopes of filling extra
bedrooms with the sound of children.

“One year ago I felt like my world was turned upside down. I felt
scared and different and confused. So very confused,” I said as I stared out at
the ocean. “I can’t say that has changed too much but being here . . . being
here away from it all. I don’t know. It’s made me feel like maybe I’m not
completely different than everyone in my life. Like maybe the person I am
belongs somewhere when I’m around you and Violet.”

“You never felt like you belonged anywhere before?”

“With Meems . . . with Sam . . . but that’s about it. Ironically
anyone else in my life intensified the feeling of not belonging more than
anything.”

“Even Grant?”

“Gawd, especially Grant.” He and I were nothing like Jazlyn and
Violet, nothing like the interaction I saw between them—nothing like the
interaction I developed so effortlessly with Sam.

She tapped the knuckle of her bent index finger against her lip a
few times. “Then why did you say yes?”

The ocean pulled me back to it—behind the waves crashing to the
sand were calmer currents that gave the surface only a gentle ripple. All one
body of water yet different. Different but the same.

I breathed in the sea air and felt the salt on my tongue.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I guess I needed something to hold on to. Something
concrete, something real. Grant had been the constant in my life. In fact, he
was one of the last constants in my life. He was my link to back home. I felt
all of this change happening around me. Memaw . . . Sam . . . my whole life’s
plan. Everything I’d grown up knowing was going to be my future seemed to
disappear or change in a blink of an eye. I felt like Sam had been this free
living, loving spirit which was intoxicating but not actually what I would
consider a real possibility. A real life I could have.”

“Who’s to say what real life is, Rayne. Isn’t it what you find is
best for you?”

“What about you? Were you in love when you said yes? When you got
married, did you doubt or wonder at all if that was what you wanted?”

“Yes, I was sure it was. I loved Zach. I loved him very much.” She
lowered and leaned back to peer through the sliding-glass door. “A part of me
will always love him and his family. He was my constant too. I’d never loved
anyone but him until I met Vi.”

“So you had never thought of women before Doc
. . . before Violet?”

Jazlyn let a small sigh if not a snicker escape her lips. “Nope.”
She then smiled fully. “Not one single solitary thought.”

“Then what? Why?”

She shrugged. “Rayne, the heart can’t hide what it wants. Even
from its owner.”

“What about now? Are you attracted to other women?”

Her smile widened. “Well, I notice attractive women all of the
time.” She leaned over and nudged my arm. “Present company included, but I
don’t think of them as far as doing anything with them or being unfaithful to
my wife. I’m in love with Vi. She’s the only woman for me.”

“Do you consider yourself a lesbian then?”

She gave me far more than a snicker and
laughed. “Oh, honey, yes without a doubt. But why do you bother with putting
labels on things.” She tapped my forehead lightly. “Girl, you gotta let go of
some of this up here. You don’t have to label yourself. You don’t have to try
to figure it all out in the present. Hell, honey, that’s what the future is
for. To figure things out. You need to find for yourself who or what can turn
that brain off long enough to fill it with thoughts of being with them. Does it
really matter if it’s male or female? Be in love . . . be in lust . . . be
whatever. Just feel and not live a life going through the motions.”

She was quiet for a moment as if letting her words process within
me. She patted her thighs before standing up.

“Take fifteen minutes to think about what I said. Then stand up,
breath in a lung full of this fresh sea air, and go get dressed.” She put her
hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I can’t wait for you to meet my friend, Mo.
We’re going to have a great weekend.”

I felt the anxiety building in my gut. The resulting influx of
nervous energy quickened my heart rate and would have taken my breath had a
crashing wave not pulled my attention back out to the surf. The spray had grown
to match the increasing height of the waves. I remembered the laugh I couldn’t
suppress when the waves lifted my feet from the sand as I stood out in the
water alone watching Jazlyn and Violet. They were in synchronicity as they lay
on the beach together. They moved without the need for conversations, seemingly
knowing the other’s thoughts or needs. Jazlyn would sit up but before she could
reach for the cooler, Violet would hand her a cold drink. She would do the same
for Violet. At one point I noticed Violet turning her head side to side and
just as she was about to sit up, Jazlyn stood to adjust the umbrella to shade
Violet’s face. They shared a smile before returning to their books. Being with
them as they interacted so naturally gave me a calmness I badly needed. I let
the restlessness of my body ease from me as my hands dipped below the surface
of the water to cup handfuls of it and let it drain out between my fingers. I
knew without a doubt I wanted what they had.

As another wave crashed, I felt the exhilaration in the sound of
the surf soaking into my soul. I understood the serenity that had shown on
Jazlyn’s face when it reflected the lights of the Alabama theatre. I understood
how she was taken away yet brought back as she stood staring at the building
that represented her center. I heard her voice in my thoughts. “It’s my thing.”
I breathed in the sea air as she had said and let it wash through me. I smiled
broadly because I knew. The water was my thing, whether it was found
with waves or ripples . . . it was my thing.

THE SPRAY OF the shower stung my sunburned skin as it beat down on
it.  Considering that and the heat of Florida’s coast, I was thankful I had
packed a light spaghetti strap shirt and loose linen pants to wear to dinner.
It had been awhile since I had taken the time to notice myself in the mirror.
So much so that my hair was at least three inches longer than I usually wore
it. The length had begun to weigh down the light brown curls as they touched
the top of my shoulders. No wonder I found myself constantly tossing it into a
ponytail. It was either the style I wore leaving the house or the one that
happened after a day of fighting the falling strands. I ran some gel through it
and decided to let it dry on its own tonight. I tossed what minimal make-up I
usually put on back into my bag as my sun-kissed cheeks gave my face enough
color without it. I dabbed on a little lipstick and gave myself one final look
before opening the bedroom door. The green of my eyes was brighter as if the
water had urged their color to return.

The smell of garlic and peppers reminded me of what little food I
had eaten in the day. I walked into the living area to notice Jazlyn moving
around the open kitchen as if she was a true chef. She hadn’t heard me come
into the room as the steps made with my bare feet had been silent on the dark
gray tiled floor. I watched her add ingredients to her pots and skillets as she
hummed an unknown song. Her happiness was spreading quickly to me as I watched
her.

“It smells fantastic.” I leaned against the doorframe of the
kitchen.

Her hand flinched slightly which added an extra dollop of garlic
to the skillet. “Oops,” she said with a smile. “You startled me.”

“It smells pretty damn good to me too,” Violet said, walking
around the corner. “Hey, babe, what about this one?” She held a bottle of red
wine up for Jazlyn’s inspection.

“Perfect.” Jazlyn tapped the thin spatula against the side of the
skillet and pointed it at me. “I hope you brought your appetite.” She quickly
wiped her hands on a dish towel.

We turned at a knock on the door.

“She’s here,” Jazlyn said as she sprinted around the corner.

Violet took a side step so as to stand closer to me. She leaned
her head over so Jazlyn couldn’t hear her. “I know you know I’m not comfortable
with you being here. I also know you know why that is. Before this trip is over
you and I need to find some time to talk but until then I won’t do anything to
ruin Jaz’s trip. Okay?” She arched her eyebrow at me.

Shit. “Yeah, okay.” I nodded.

“Besides these two together will be enough entertainment to keep
either of us from having to speak to one another too much.” She stepped a few
steps away and watched Jazlyn at the door.

I swallowed hard at the inevitable conversation, knowing it would
be about Sam. Violet had talked of being there for Sam when she was crying over
my actions. My heart couldn’t bear to hear of Sam hurting because of me, especially
when I knew it would bring back recollections of the heartbreak I had seen on
her face. Yet I knew this to be a penance I had to pay.

Jazlyn slung open the door and swooped the smaller figure up in
her arms. “Mo! Damn, girl, it’s so good to see you.”

I heard the woman mumble something against Jazlyn’s chest.

Mo pulled back from Jazlyn’s embrace but held their hands together
in front of her. “Sister, you have no idea.” She lifted her head in the air. “I
know I don’t smell your garlic clam sauce?”

“That you do.” Jazlyn’s smile showed the brilliance of her teeth
as she turned to us. “Come in. I want you to meet a new friend of mine.” She
kept Mo’s hand in hers as she led her closer to Violet and me.

Mo dropped the duffel bag she was carrying. “Damn, Vi, you’re
prettier every time I see you.” She pulled Violet against her chest. “Why you
ever chose tall and goofy over me I’ll never know.” She kissed the side of
Violet’s neck.

“The perpetual charmer.” Violet smiled as she tapped Mo’s chin.
“Which is probably one very good reason for my choice.”

“Hey, now. Cut out trying to steal my woman.”
Jazlyn looked at me with an endearing smile. “Mo, meet my very dear friend
Rayne.”

Mo extended her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Rayne.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I felt the warmth of her fingers as they
wrapped around mine in our handshake. Her grip was firm. Her eyes were a
crystal clear green that reminded me of a field of freshly cut spring grass. I
was momentarily lost in the brilliance of them. Although her smile was warm, it
held a certain sense of distance which seemed to keep hidden the emotions
behind it.

“I’m at a crucial point in the kitchen. Mo, keep my friend company
won’t you? Maybe put on some tunes,” Jazlyn said over her shoulder as she
headed back into the kitchen.

Violet picked up the black bag. “I’ll take this to your room and
then I’ve got a bottle to attend to.”

I realized the warm fingers were still wrapped around mine.
Smiling, I released my hand from hers as we both watched Jazlyn and Violet walk
away.

“What’s your favorite type of music?” Mo looked at the stereo.
“You can help me pick something out.” She reached into her pocket to pull out a
thin metallic device. “Let’s see if we’ll find something like it on my iPod.”
Her voice held excitement. “Look at this thing. I’ve got like a thousand songs
on it. Is that crazy or what?”

“I’ve heard of those but haven’t seen one yet. I don’t listen to a
lot of music.”

“What? That’s very near criminal.” She looked at me, shocked. “Why
the hell not?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I guess because I study a lot and music
distracts me.”

“Oh yeah. Are you in school?” She led us to the stereo system and
pulled a cord from her back pocket. “The rental sucked and had no way for me to
plug it in. So, school . . . you were saying?”

“Ummm, yeah, I’m in medical school. Doing a
plastic surgery residency.”

She stopped and looked at me. She gave her head a knowing bob. “A
doctor. Interesting. Okay then, Doc, what kind of music did you like when you did
listen to music?”

“Probably eighties music would be my favorite.”

Her laugh was deep with a hint of hoarseness to it. “Not sure I
have a bunch of that on here.” She shook the iPod she held in between her fingers.
“How about I do the picking tonight and make it up to you later?”

“That sounds like a deal.”

She was actually quite beautiful—strikingly
so but in a no fuss sort of way. Her hair was a chestnut brown with long heavy
waves forming around her face. She pulled the long sides over to the side of
her neck as she examined her musical selection. I studied a bit of music in
school when the curriculum demanded each student choose either band or choir
but it was never my thing. Charlie Grace always told me I couldn’t carry a tune
in a bucket much less with my voice, so naturally I chose band. I learned just
enough to recognize the treble clef sign tattooed behind her right ear. She ran
her thumb over the circular dial until something caught her attention.

“I think this playlist should do us.”

She smiled as a high-pitched trumpet and rolling base drum blared
through the surround speakers. A woman’s voice slow and sultry joined their
song of a lady singing the blues. Mo closed her eyes and swayed her head when
the voice turned husky. The sound of tickling ivories played lightly in the
background. She shuffled her black boots on the hardwood floor. She wore gray
Dickie pants which rode low on her hips. A silver chain with one end attached
to a belt loop and the other end leading to her back pocket jiggled as her hips
joined the sway of her head. I watched as her body felt the chords sung and
played through the speakers.

“Who doesn’t love Lady Day?” she said as her hips dipped low and
came back up.

“No one I know,” Jazlyn said, walking in from
around the corner. She set a tray down in between us. “Dig in. Wine’s coming
up.”

“How about right now?” Violet walked up behind Jazlyn and handed
Mo and me a glass of wine. “I think this’ll go nicely with what Jaz has whipped
up for us.”

Mo swirled the deep red wine until it rose up along the sides. She
brought the glass up to her nose swiftly when she stopped the twirl of her
hand. She breathed in deeply before taking a small sip. She swished the wine
around in her mouth, swallowed, and then looked at Violet. “Nice choice.”

Flashes of Sam making those same motions appeared in my mind and
took my breath. Sam and Mo’s movements mimicked each other’s. Different but
the same.

“Sold. I’ll go get our glasses and be right back.” Violet
disappeared into the kitchen.

I stared at the glass in my hand until I
noticed I’d caught Mo’s attention.

“It usually has more of an effect if you actually drink it. You
know . . . instead of staring at it.”

I found her teasing relaxing and fell into it by letting a chuckle
escape. “You know, I think I’ve read that somewhere before.”

Mo smiled and tipped her glass to me as she popped a piece of
fresh mozzarella in her mouth. “Sassy. I like that.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at the wine. “So, why do you do the
swirling thing?”

Mo gave me a quizzical look. “Swirling thing?”

“Yeah, you swirled the glass and then sniffed
it before drinking it.”

“Aw, that.” She placed her hand over mine as it held the glass.
“Moving around your wrist to let the wine swirl in the glass sets its bouquet
free. It oxygenates and releases its aromas.” She gently moved our hands. “Now
when we stop, bring the glass to your nose and smell.” She stopped our hands
and urged the glass to my nose but left her hand over mine. I felt her fingertip
touch the tip of my nose. “What do you smell?”

I took in a deep inhalation through my nose. “I smell . . . hmmmm
. . . black cherries?”

Her smile widened. “Yes very good. Now take a small swallow but
swish it around your mouth before swallowing.”

I did as she said, feeling the room temp wine tingle on my tongue.
It left a slight burn along my throat as I swallowed.

“Now what did you taste?”

“Uh, the black cherries I smelled and er . . . cinnamon. Maybe
even a hint of rosemary. Is that right?”

Her smile stretched across her face. Her teeth were gorgeously
white and perfectly straight. Her eyes sparkled. “Very good. Now pair it with
something off of the tray.”

I looked over the food spread out on a granite cheese board. Chalk
lettering named each sample. I topped off a piece of aged parmesan with a slice
of salami.

“Good choice.” Mo did the same. Her eyes kept smiling at me as she
chewed.

“My favorite are the olives,” Jazlyn said, reaching between us to
grab one. She threw her arm over Mo’s shoulder. “Damn, girl, it’s good to see
you.”

They stared at each other long enough for me to be envious of
their friendship. There was no distance between them. They looked at each other
as if they could read each other’s thoughts and I’m betting they probably could.

Jazlyn broke their stare and changed her glance to include me. “My
girl here and I share a love of food and . . .” She paused to listen to the
music. A smile took over her face. “Summertime and the living is easy,” she
sang and then grabbed Mo’s hand as they twirled each other around the living
room.

“When those two escape into their little world, you might as well
give it up,” Violet said, watching them dance.

I didn’t know what to say or even if she wanted a comment in
return. She spoke in a manner that felt like it was a strain for her to speak
to me at all. The tension between us was beyond uncomfortable. She was Sam’s
friend. I knew that as plain as I knew the nose on my face. I wondered if Sam
and Violet were like this when they got together. Sam. Feeling the
darkness creeping back into me, I took a larger swallow of wine. I wasted not
in the perfect swish of the liquid and drank for its effect. I couldn’t . . . I
wouldn’t let my thoughts give in to the darkness this weekend. I had to let it
go to keep some sanity about me. I watched Mo and Jazlyn spin each other
around. I absorbed their happiness, letting it be my distraction.

THE CELLPHONE VIBRATED across the nightstand,
which woke me from my not so restful sleep. The indicator for two voicemails
flashed on the screen. One had been left late in the afternoon the day before
with the other one left early this morning. I held the phone to my ear as I sat
up against the large cushioned headboard.

“Hey, sis, dis here Flossie.” Silence. “Are you there? Pick up the
phone cuz I need to tell you something.” I laughed at her lack of understanding
as to a cellphone message compared to an answering machine. Damn technology
confused an old woman. “Good thing you ain’t there. Anyhow yo’ momma done fit
to be tied. Grant done come up in here and told’n her you didn’t want to come
home for the holiday. She had some big barbeque shindig planned up for ya’ll.
Me and Cora been shucking up so much corn my fingers done got blisters on dem.
You best be leavin’ this here machine on cuz no doubt she gonna be callin’. She
was cussin’ up a storm when that boy told her.” I heard shuffling as if she was
trying to figure out how to turn the phone off. “Hey, sis . . . I’m missing you
some kinda bad but I gets why you ain’t here. You best be taking care of
yoself.”

A pain hit deep in the pit of my stomach, rolling a wave of nausea
across it. A year ago this weekend I felt the happiest I had ever felt in my
life. A weekend with Sam, Meems, and Flossie. Now only one of the three
remained in my life. How could things change so drastically in such a small
amount of time? Fear. Fear is what sprang up behind the pain. If a year
had taken so much from me, what would another year take? A woman who once spent
all of her days planning for the years ahead was now afraid to look beyond the
time at present.

I stood from the bed and walked to the
window. A sliver of light rose above the surface of the water but was smothered
from expanding any further up by a mass of clouds resting above it. The
green-lit screen in my palm was the only light in the room. It taunted me with
voicemail two. Didn’t I know who it was from? I sat in the wingback chair next
to the bed, bent my knees up against my chest and pulled my nightshirt over
them as I stared at the screen.

Voicemail two.

“Rayne.” Charlie Grace. “I don’t think it’s asking too much to be
notified of your plans when they change.” Her voice was strained as if she was
choosing her words very carefully and perhaps speaking through gritted teeth.
“One minute you’re planning a visit and the next Grant tells me you have chosen
to go elsewhere for your holiday weekend.” Had I told her I was coming home? I
couldn’t remember. “Consideration. Consideration of others would be a nice
lesson to learn. Now I must figure out what excuse I’m going to tell my friends
when they arrive to find the honored guest is nowhere to be found. Perhaps you
should be more considerate of your fiancé as well as he is celebrating the
holiday all alone.” She hung up. No good bye. No terms of endearment. Classic
Charlie Grace.

Quietly I snuck from my room to watch the sunrise from the
balcony. The light cast shadows into the darkness of the terrace. The surf’s
waves greeted me their good morning. I caught the scent of a coffee’s aroma as
I was about to sit.

“Good morning, Rayne.” Violet’s voice surprised me both with the
sound of it as well as the nature of it. I was reminded of the feared physician
of the obstetrics floor.

“Good morning, Dr. Breaker.”

Her face was obscured in the shadow but I could see the definition
of an arched eyebrow when she looked over her coffee cup at me.

“I’m sorry. Good morning, Violet.”

“There’s coffee on the table in the corner. If you would like a
cup.” Her tone was unchanged.

A small French press sat in the center of the glass table with a
coffee mug tree adorned with white cups standing next to it. I filled the cup
with the black morning’s necessity. I didn’t want the cream or sugar which sat
next to it but I was drawn to rub the bronze fleur-de-lis toppers found on the
lids of the glass set. The elegant symbols characteristic of Louisiana seemed
out of place among the beach decorations. Yet here they were proudly displayed
beneath the wall hangings of shells and a driftwood sign pointing out toward
the surf.

“There’s cream and sugar next to the press. If you want it.”

“I drink mine black but thank you. I love the containers though.”

“Thank you. Sam gave them to us last year. She brought them back
from a trip to Louisiana.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But I think you
already know about that trip.”

I didn’t move from my position behind her. All I wanted to do was
to turn and run back inside but deep down I knew I couldn’t. Jazlyn was my
friend. She was a friend I had grown quickly to need in my life. Violet was her
wife, her life partner and a woman she dearly loved. It was time for me to
stand strong for the person I am—faults, mistakes and all. It was time for me
to do something not so easy for my future and those I wanted in it.

I sat in the chair closest to her and stared out at the ocean.
“Are you sure, you don’t mind the company?”

She slowly turned her head in my direction. “It’s fine.” Her tone
continued to express anything but it being fine.

The rising sun began to dispel the shadows and glow across her
face. When she wasn’t wearing her current expression, Violet was a beautiful
woman. Who am I kidding? Even with the “I could snap your head off like
a twig” look, she was still quite gorgeous. Her complexion had darkened while
we were at the beach. The light golden hue of her skin had grown a richer,
deeper brown from the hours spent under the sun. She wore her hair about an inch
around her head except for the top which she kept long enough to wear in a
fashionable, messy spike. However, this weekend she had mostly left it free to
lay across her forehead.

We sat in silence as the sun peeked over the horizon to paint the
sky golden as it lay over the crystal blue water, which turned to emerald green
the closer it came to the shore. I was at a loss for words, sitting next to the
woman who may have known more about Sam than I did. She certainly knew more of
her in those final days of our time. What had she told her of me? What had
she told her of her feelings? The sun had risen well above the surface of
the water before I gained the courage to speak.

“It truly is beautiful here.”

“Yes, it is. Jaz has always enjoyed coming here.”

“I can see why. Ya’ll have a beautiful place here.”

“It was her parents. I think she feels closer
to them when she’s here.”

“Was?”

“Yes. They were killed in a car crash when she was a freshman in
college.” She took the last sip from her cup and stood to walk over to the
French press.

“I didn’t know.”

“No, I doubt you would. She doesn’t talk about it.” She held the
pot up. “Would you like for me to top off your cup?”

I looked down at the partially filled cup. “Yes, please.” Truth be
known, it had grown cold during my frozen nervous state.

“She doesn’t let many people get close to her. Acquaintances. Yes,
she keeps many of those. Few get passed the wall she keeps up. In fact, until
you the only other one was Mo.” She sat back down in the chair but faced me
instead of the water. “I suppose that’s why I know I’ve got to figure out a way
to make this work between us.” She brushed at the bangs that had fallen into
her eyes. “I love her, Rayne, so we’ll have to come to some agreement.”

“I would like that. She’s become my best friend.”

“I see that.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“No and I know she feels the same about you.” I felt her stare on
me as physically as I did the ceramic cup in my hand. “I didn’t have a high
opinion of you not so long ago.”

“And now?”

“And now, I suppose I’m trying to develop my own instead of
holding resentment for things I know. I believe I may have misjudged you.”

“How so?” I didn’t want to do
anything to discourage her from continuing so I sat there as still as I could,
and waited on her next words.

She took another swallow of her coffee. “Now, I don’t necessarily
believe you were trying to act out some straight girl playing lesbian fantasy
as a way of sewing some oats before you got married.”

“I wasn’t.” I couldn’t hold back my interruption because she
couldn’t have been more wrong. “I swear to you. I wasn’t.”

“I believe you.” Would her tone ever change around me? “I respect
the fact that you haven’t once tried to get me to talk of Sam or the time she
spent with us. I’m not sure if it’s my privacy or hers you’re regarding. But I
do respect the fact that you haven’t tried to get me to talk about those days.”

The breeze blew the tall blades of dune grass reaching for the now
reddish sky. I kept them in my sight, thinking of the friendship the two women
shared.

“Both,” I finally said.

A tear escaped to trace down my cheek as I thought of the loss of
Sam. I remembered the pain of watching her walk away. I remembered the tears
falling until my vision was skewed and my eyes fatigued. With all of me, I had
fought these tears this weekend. I was so tired of crying . . . so tired of
feeling the pain of watching her leave . . . so tired of feeling responsible
for her pain and my pain. Here they fell freely in front of the woman who no
doubt collected Sam’s tears upon her shoulder.

“I never wanted to hurt her,” I said between sobs. “Knowing I did
hurts worse than the pain of losing her. I can’t sleep because when I close my
eyes I see her crying in front of me. There was so much I did wrong. So much I
could’ve done differently.”

I didn’t want the words to keep pouring out of me. I wanted them
to stop. She sat across from me, watching me as I broke down in front of her
but I swear her expression was unchanged. What did I expect her to do? Wrap me
up in her arms. Console me after I broke her best friend’s heart. After I hurt
Sam so much that she chose to transfer her residency instead of staying in a
city where she might run into me. No, if it were me I would probably sit there
emotionless as well.

Which is what she did for several minutes as she watched me. “And
now? Would you do things differently if given another chance? If faced with the
same situation, even if it’s not Sam, would your choices or actions be
different?”

With a strength I hadn’t realized laid dormant within me, I
answered without hesitation. “I would. Beyond a shadow of doubt I would do
things differently.” What exactly those things would be I did not know, but I
had lived enough of my days with Sam out of my life that I realized if given
another chance I would do what I could to never feel this again.

Violet stood and walked to the balcony door. “Perhaps one day you’ll
be faced with a similar decision. Maybe then you’ll remember this feeling you
have now and use it to your advantage.” She braced her hand against the glass
of the door and glanced over her shoulder. “We’re taking the boat out today.
Why don’t you give yourself a day to let those eyes see something besides
sadness?”

I looked at her in what I know must have been a look of shock.

“I’ve seen equal pain in both of your eyes now. I’ll tell you like
I told her, holding onto the hurt won’t bring her back.”

“What will?”

She sighed. “She asked me the very same question.”

A breeze caught the curtain of the opened sliding glass door as
she turned to walk inside. The material tickled at my shoulder when it flowed
across me. The sand had been wiped clean of the footsteps which had marked it
the day before. It was a fresh, new surface ready for the day. The drape
brushed against my skin once more. I let the tears dry on my cheek and kept the
others suppressed. A fresh new surface for the day.

Chapter 7

MY FINGERS DIPPED low into the coolness of the
water as the sail caught a wind to carry us across the surface of the ocean. I
listened to the sound of the wind whipping the sails as the boat skipped across
the waves. There was a rhythm to it. A rhythm that soothed my body as it dipped
up and down with the hull of the boat. I sat along the side to let the sun warm
my face as I looked into the sky with sunglass-covered eyes. The darker the
sunglasses, the harder it was to gather which eyes were upon you and which eyes
looked away. Mo’s smile stretched across her face and I wondered if she had
caught me staring as I tried to make out the tattoos on her stomach. She was
stretched out across the canopy that connected the two small engine powered
hulls of the catamaran sailboat. The small royal blue bikini she wore did
little to cover the ink on her right lower belly. It was a heart ending in a
larger treble clef like the one behind her ear. A flow of musical notes passed
over the heart and around her right hip. I watched the trail of quarter notes,
eighth notes, and two sixteenth notes until her smile confirmed she was well
aware of my stare. I pretended to look over her shoulder as the water broke to
spray across the hull. For a brief moment I was able to ignore her knowing
smile but I could hardly ignore when she began patting the canopy beside her.

I moved cautiously across the canvas to sit next to her. I looked
down at my one piece bathing suit with cut-off blue jean shorts and became
nervously aware of the difference in our swim suit choices. It’s not that I was
embarrassed or ashamed of my body. I had managed not to gain the medical school
twenty pounds that afflicted some of my classmates. I still wore the same size
six jeans and small tops. Hell, I had even kept some of the remnants of my once
toned stomach by squeezing in a few crunches here and there. I suppose it was a
shyness beyond anything else that had me hiding in more material than the three
of them combined. Seeing hundreds of nude bodies in the operating room should
have effectively wiped away any shyness I harbored while around them. It should
have but it didn’t.

“Are you having a good time?” Mo asked as she cupped her hand over
her sunglasses.

“Yes, very. Are you?”

“Are you kidding me? Sun, water, boat? I could live out here.”

I could make out the tattoo underneath her left collar bone. In
two separate lines was written “When the pain penetrates the music resonates.”
Small birds inked in black soared across her shoulder. Pain?

Violet sat next to Jazlyn as she steered the boat along the water.
Her hand rested on the small of Jazlyn’s bare back. I marveled at the contrast
in the color of their skin. It wasn’t like a separation or difference in them
but rather a stronger bond. They blended. They became one. Her thumb traced
circles along the bikini bottom line of Jazlyn’s suit.

“Sort of makes you want to fall in love, doesn’t it?” Mo was
watching the same expression of tenderness I was.

I smiled.

“If you go for that sort of thing.” She winked.

“Does that mean you don’t?”

“What? Falling in love?”

“Yes.”

“Nah, it sort of takes all of the fun out of it to me.”

Ah, another sex is sex kind of girl.

Jazlyn stopped the boat as she pulled into an alcove. “We’re
here,” she said as she dropped a small anchor into the water. I followed the
rope, losing sight of it to the depth of the water.

“Race you in.” Mo stood up and tackled Jazlyn into the water. The
force of them hitting the water in a ball of arms and legs rocked the sailboat,
which sent a spray of water onto Violet and me.

“Oh, I’m so getting you now,” Jazlyn screamed when her head popped
up out of the water. They became a tangled mess of splashing arms and girl-like
screams as they wrestled in the water.

“Those two will go at it like this for hours if we let them,”
Violet said.

I laughed as I watched them frolic about in the water. “How long
have they known each other?”

“Hmmmm, let’s see.” She tilted her head upwards as if calculating.
“We’ve been together for ten years, so I guess close to eleven.”

“So she knew Mo before you?”

“Not exactly.” Violet squeezed some sunscreen into her palm and
then handed the bottle to me. “You’re getting a little pinkish.” She rubbed the
lotion onto her shoulders, which gave her darker skin a whitish tint. “She’d
met me before Mo. You could probably say Mo is the reason we’re together. If it
hadn’t been for her, I doubt Jaz and I would’ve made it past our own shit. I
suppose, if we’re being completely honest, I should say I doubt we would’ve
made it past my own shit.”

“She told me she was married when she met you.”

She made a sound of something between a puff and a sigh. “I
thought she might. She told me you needed a Mo like she had needed years ago.
She wants to be that for you and asked I not stand in the way.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

She gave one of her first smiles meant solely for me. It wasn’t a
wide smile but it was a smile nonetheless. “I’m warming up to it.”

Cold water splashed across us. “Are you two coming in or what?”
Jazlyn yelled. Mo was riding her piggy-back style.

“In a sec.” Violet waved as if to shoo them away. “I was so in
love with Jaz when we met that I couldn’t see reason. I couldn’t see anything
beyond wanting to spend my every moment with her. I knew she loved me so I
didn’t understand her indecisiveness in divorcing her husband. To me it was
simple. She wasn’t in love with him. She was in love with me. I didn’t
understand why she struggled so much with leaving him. So . . . I left her. I
wasn’t going to be the mistress who waited for her lover to leave her husband.
That’s all I saw. I didn’t see the rest.”

“The rest?”

Violet looked at me. “Yes the rest. Her side . . . your side. The
side that love the men in your lives yet know it isn’t what will sustain your
happiness. There are different forms of love, of commitment, and of loyalty.
Jaz met Mo when she was pretty messed up over it all. Mo helped us both see the
other’s side. She sat down with us and showed us the way to work through it.”

I looked out at the woman with dampened locks as she laughed a
full belly laugh in the arms of her best friend. Her laugh was the kind where
her whole face lit up and her head fell back. Her mouth was open wide as the
laughter billowed out.

“You see, Rayne. It took time for me to realize that loving Zach
and feeling the loss of him in her life didn’t take away from the love she felt
for me. Zach was all she had when her parents were gone. It was her constant.
The one thing she knew would be the same beyond all else. It was hard for her
to give that up. Plus his family had become hers. Besides me, Zach and his
family was all she had. When I ended it she was devastated because she felt she
had chosen her family over me. Zach was a good man. It felt wrong to hurt him.
I, for all practical purposes, was a good woman. It didn’t seem right to hurt
me either. She didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. Someone would be
hurt. Someone’s life would forever change. I made the decision for her and
ended it. Mo helped us both see the only clear choice for us.”

She brushed at the water sprinkles that Mo and Jazlyn splashed
onto us.

“Mo helped me to understand how I needed to be there for Jaz. She
knew the right decision for her but she still felt wrong in carrying out that
decision. So I was there with her every step of the divorce. I let her cry. I
let her grieve his loss. But I had to let go of my own hang-ups before I could
do that.”

Yes, the constant. The one thing I always
thought would be the same.

“Jaz suspects you may be in the same boat as she was and that Sam
was where I was. She could see it so clearly when Sam was with us. I suppose
over the last ten years, I’ve forgotten the most painful time in my life and
didn’t want to bring it all out again when you started coming around.” She held
her hand over her eyes to look at me. “I’m sorry for that.”

The boat rocked to the weight of Jazlyn climbing up over the hull.
Her tall frame crossed the distance of the catamaran quickly. She stood in
front of Violet and shook her head violently. The wet shower from her long hair
drowned Violet in a spray of water.

“Okay you. Either jump in on your own or I’ll throw you in,”
Jazlyn said.

Violet laughed as she shook her finger at Jazlyn who straddled her
legs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me.” Jazlyn pushed Violet onto her back and covered
her with her soaked body. She wiggled on top of Violet until Violet emitted a
loud cackle. I must say it was not the laugh I ever expected from Dr. Breaker.

“Am I going to have to threaten you with the
same or will you come quietly?” Mo had raised her body up along the side of the
boat to cross her arms over the hull closest to me. Her smile was mischievous.

I put my hands up in defense. “No, no. I’ll come quietly.”

“Well, damn, I never thought I’d be happy to hear a woman say
those words to me.”

Wait. What?

I felt a strong blush fill my cheeks and hoped like crazy she
mistook it for sunburn. I also hoped she was fooled into thinking I actually
nearly stumbled on something other than my own clumsiness as I stepped toward
the side of the boat.

WE SPENT THE large part of the afternoon playing in the water of
the alcove until our hunger insisted we return. Jazlyn opened the sail as the
wind picked up to carry us quickly back to the shore. I let the sun and sounds
of the water hitting the catamaran carry me away into thoughts of nothing but
the warmth on my skin. The heaviness in my chest rose to be carried away within
the sails. I was having fun. I’d laughed. I’d splashed. I’d forgotten.

I stretched my head further back to see Violet and Jazlyn sitting
together and talking. Turning my head to the side, I saw Mo watching the same.
She winked at me as our eyes met. Another wave of happiness swept over me. I
liked her. She had this carefree way that made me feel as if she had no worries
in the world. It was becoming contagious as my burdens drifted along the waves
of the sea.

Once the sailboat was docked in the boat slip, we made our way
along the sidewalk carrying us parallel to 30A, the road that was as much of a
culture as it was a connection between towns along the Gulf of Mexico. Tourists
and locals alike rode around in cars with open sunroofs, convertible tops
lowered back or Jeeps with little to no barrier between the passengers and the
open air.

“I’m feeling me some fish tacos.” Mo stepped ahead of us as we
walked along the sidewalk. She had pulled her long hair into a ponytail that
swayed as she walked, revealing yet another tattoo. Just at the base of her
hairline was a circular design of a deep blue sky dotted with stars on one side
and a quarter moon on the other. A three-dimensional narrow rainbow was wrapped
around the moon. Below it was linear writing in cursive print that traced down
between her shoulder blades. Its full passage was hidden underneath the
scoop-neck white t-shirt she wore. For a brief moment an image of me lying on
my side next to her body as I read the writing flashed through my mind. I shook
the image and the shock of it from my thoughts.

Mo shuffled her feet and spun around when Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed
Girl” began to play from the speakers hidden in the small palm trees that lined
the sidewalk. The smile she gave Jazlyn when she held her arms out for her
shined brightly underneath the string lights hanging overhead. The tiny clear
bulbs joined the line of silver Airstreams that had been converted into food
trailers. There was everything from ice cream to full meals available.

Jazlyn picked up her pace to take Mo’s
hands. They danced in the middle of the sidewalk with Jazlyn spinning Mo around
as I remember seeing Charlie Grace and Jacques do many times before.

“Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da,” they sang slightly
off key.

Violet stepped closer to me as we followed behind the dancing
queens. She smiled and shook her head. “I so love to see her this happy. Mo
brings the little girl out in her. She grew up too fast after her parents. It’s
good to see her this way.”

Violet was smiling as widely as Jazlyn who was now dancing back to
her. “Makin’ love in the green grass,” she continued to sing as she picked
Violet up in her arms.

Violet laughed as Jazlyn carried her off toward the Airstream
boasting the best grilled cheese sandwiches on the Emerald Coast.

“You can have a piece of bread with cheese melted between it or
you can come with me to taste something truly delicious.” Mo raised her
eyebrows in excitement.

“Fish tacos you say?”

“I sure as hell did. The best you’ve ever tasted.”

“That won’t be too hard to master because I’ve never actually had
them.”

“Follow me and we can change that.” She grabbed my hand and led me
to the last Airstream on the corner. “Do you have a preference of fish? Or do
you want me to order for you?”

“I trust your judgement.”

Mo looked at me and smiled. “Hmmmm . . . can’t say I hear that too
many times.” She laughed.

I watched her face as she studied the menu—the furrow of her
eyebrows as she considered the options. Her eyes were a brighter green under
the red-and-orange lights hanging above the Airstream’s window. She was even
more striking with her sun-kissed cheeks.

A young girl who looked to be not much older
than legal stepped in front of the older gentleman as Mo came to be next in
line.

“Hi, there.”

“Hi.” Mo looked at the row of toppings displayed to the side of
the girl.

“What can I get you, doll?” The girl smiled.

Doll? Isn’t she a little young to be calling someone doll?

Mo gave her a million dollar smile. “Off the menu . . .” She
winked at the girl. “I’ll have four grilled mako fish tacos topped with
jalapeno coleslaw and avocado.” She directed her attention back to me. “Good?”

“Yes. Good,” I said, shaking my head.

The girl followed her eyes to me and frowned briefly before
turning to prepare our order.

Mo peered around those in line to look at the open grassy
amphitheater. She smiled a much different smile as she watched some kids
playing Frisbee with a border collie. She motioned for me to look at them. One
of the little kids got tangled with the puppy, and I heard the same laugh she
had shared with Jazlyn in the water. They both tumbled down the small hill with
the girl giggling as loud as she could. The puppy popped up and wagged his tail
so fast his backend shook with a frenzy.

Mo laughed again. Oh yeah, I liked this woman.

“Here you go,” the girl said as she returned to the window. She
handed the wrapped packages to Mo but held onto her hand as she collected the
money from her. “Nice ink.” She tapped the bass clef tattoo on the inside of
Mo’s wrist before releasing her hand.

“Thanks.” Mo gave her the same smile she had
given her before.

I imagined she had many women flirt with her. I wondered if this
was the smile she was used to showing when it happened. I decided it was a
smile I hoped not to see in my future.

The unsolicited flirting reminded me of watching women openly
flirt with Sam. Either these women knew both of them were lesbians or in the
very least they must’ve thought they would respond to their flirtations. How
did they know? What aura did they give off? Different but the same.

Mo waved at Jazlyn as she stood above the seated crowd. She was
pointing to an empty table Violet had snagged for us.

“So what did you two get?” Violet asked as she
was wiping off debris from the sea foam colored table. The palm leaves hung low
over the table and very nearly touched her head as she bent over the table.

“Fish tacos of course.” Mo set the paper basket containers down on
the table and pulled two orange Adirondack chairs away from the table. She
pointed to the one next to her before taking a seat in the oversized chair.

“Rayne, did Mo even give you a chance to choose something else
besides her beloved fish tacos?” Jazlyn asked.

Mo was already one bite into her first taco. “What? Of course I
did.” A few shreds of cabbage fell from the soft shell onto the paper
packaging. She quickly picked them up not to let a single bite escape her
mouth.

“She did, but she was pretty insistent this was the best choice.”
The heat of the jalapeno coleslaw lingered in my mouth. “I’d have to say she
was dead on. These are amazing.”

“Damn straight they are.” Mo gobbled up another bite.

“You may change your mind once you see my grilled cheese,” Violet
said as she set four bottles of cold beer in front of us.

“Where’re you headed next?” Jazlyn opened her wrapper and nibbled
on a large sourdough sandwich filled with melted white and yellow cheese.

“Key West Florida.” Mo took the last bite of her first taco and
chased it with a few large swallows of beer. “There’s a slammin’ new club
opening up.”

“Key West. Nice.” Violet almost hummed.

“Like way nice. These girls do it right too. This is their third
club. They have one in Boston, Las Vegas, and now the Keys. They’re putting me
up for the first month they’re open.”

“A month in the Keys?” Jazlyn tipped her beer toward Mo. “I hope
you’ve worked on your exercise tolerance.”

Mo held her palm against her chest as if innocent to Jazlyn’s
accusations. “Who me?”

The three of them laughed at what had to be a private joke. After
seeing the Airstream girl’s obvious flirtation, I didn’t have to stretch my
imagination too far to understand their laughter.

We sat under the rustle of the palm leaves and let the breeze off
of the ocean sweep away the humidity of the day as we took turns making trips
to retrieve fresh cold beers. We watched the crowds continue to appear even
with the passing hours of the night. We laughed at the parents who showed
noticeable fatigue as their children pranced around them with energy that did
not seem to be diminishing anytime soon.

Jazlyn and Mo slammed their hands down on the
table after a few chords of a calypso steel pan sounded above us. They pulled
their chairs closer to sing together about wasting away again in
Margaritaville.

“Salt. Salt. Salt,” they sang loudly with their beers held high in
the air. They were Jimmy Buffet’s back-up singers as he crooned for his lost
shaker of salt.

“Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,” they sang
together. Except this time Jazlyn looked at Violet and Mo looked at me. She
raised her eyebrows as her lips curled into what I would call an impish smile.

Yes, it was a very good day.

“WHAT ARE YOU talking about?” I heard Mo say as I was about to
turn the corner into the kitchen.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Jazlyn said in a playful tone. “I’ve
learned to read that look in your eyes.”

“Okay, okay. But you have to know she’s pretty damn hot.”

I stopped abruptly and took a small step backward as to not be
seen in the doorway.

“Yes, she’s a very pretty woman.”

“Even more so because she doesn’t seem to sense it.”

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to mess with her, Mo. She’s
not in a place to be able to handle what you offer.”

“What I offer? And what exactly is that?”

“A good time. Honey, you know I love you like the sister I never
had, which is why I can talk to you openly. Rayne’s in a really bad spot right
now.”

Rayne? So they were talking about me. Did
she call me hot? I felt my heart rate speed up as the heat of a blush
sprang to my cheeks.

“I’ll let her share the details if she ever wishes to but to sum
it up . . . think of me when I met you. Would you have been good for me at that
time in my life?”

“Point taken,” Mo said after a deep sigh.

I listened to them move around the kitchen and prepare coffee for
the grinder. I waited behind the wall and listened for a break in the
conversation before walking in.

“And what if I think I really like her?” Mo said softly.

The coffee grinder stopped. “Then I say let’s talk again when you
feel something beyond thinking you like her.”

No longer thirsty for a glass of water, I turned and quietly
walked out of the condo.

THE FULL MOON was bright in the sky. Not a single cloud shadowed
its brilliance which provided a well-lit path for me to follow out onto the
beach. The sand cooled by the night air made a distinctive sound as I walked
across it to the surf. A stretch of the imagination and I was back home on the
bayou with the light sparkling atop the water and the gravel crunching under
the weight of my footsteps. Yet it wasn’t the bayou. The darkness wasn’t able
to steal the salted air I breathed in. Nor could it keep me from feeling the
sea air on my skin or the thickening of my curls with the wetness in my hair.
The growing waves wet my legs and shorts as they crashed farther up the shore
to where I sat. A stray beam caught the stone upon my finger in its escape away
from the path across the water. I stretched my hand out in front of me and
watched the beam dance with the cuts of the diamond. Fingers flexed into a fist
didn’t seem to dampen the reflection. I turned the ring around my finger to
crush the stone in my grip. I tightened my fist until I could feel the pain of
it digging into my skin.

This damn ring.

“You stare at that a lot, you know?” I jumped.

Mo walked up behind me, sat next to me, and stared out across the
water.

“Actually I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, you do. I’m assuming it’s from a man.”

“Correct.”

“And I take it this man’s not here.”

“Nope.”

From the corner of my eye I saw her shift her weight to face me.
“So . . . why wear it then? He’s not here. You’re with your friends. Why not
leave it off if it bothers you so much?”

“That’s a good question.”

“And your answer is.”

I picked up a handful of sand and let it slowly drain from my
palm. “I suppose to remind me. Remind me of the past.”

She scooted across the sand to sit closer to me. I wondered if I
wasn’t talking loud enough for my voice to carry over the sound of the waves.

“Remind me of what’s ahead,” I said louder this time.

“I don’t know much about what’s in your past but what lies ahead
is still open for change, isn’t it? I mean it hasn’t happened yet so how can
you say it’s a done deal?”

“Sometimes the decisions we make are what
makes it be a done deal. The consequences of those decisions prevent change.”

Mo placed her hand on my arm. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no wonder.” She leaned back on her hands stretched out
behind her.

“No wonder what?”

“No wonder your eyes look so defeated. You’ve given up.”

I watched the moonlight reflect her face to me. Her expression was
clear to me in the light. She had this look of sureness to her as if the world
was laid out in front of her to read. Different but the same. The waves
became louder as they grew and rolled in behind us. The force of their current
nearly changed our position on the sand as the body of water pulled us closer
to it.

Mo laughed as she gave into the water’s pull. “We’re already
soaked.” She stood up, pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, and extended
a hand to me. “Let’s go in.”

I felt like the young girl who waited on us at the taco stand. I
couldn’t resist her magnetism. I held her hand as she walked me out into the
waist high water. I let my fingers tighten over the warmth of her hand within
mine.

“Why do you say I’ve given up?” I stood close to her as the waves
rocked us unsteadily off of our feet.

“Haven’t you.” Her tone was matter-of-fact as if I was now part of
the world laid out in front of her to read.

“I don’t think I had much of a choice.”

Mo stepped closer to me and placed her hands on my sides to keep
our balance together. “It’s about perspectives, Rayne. Look around you in this
darkness. Earlier today we could see all the way down to our feet but now
look.” I followed her eyes down as our waists disappeared into the depth of the
water. “Same water, same feet. Different perspective. Maybe you should start
with changing your perspective.”

“I don’t understand.”

She removed a hand from my waist and glided it down my left arm
until she found my hand. “Don’t you?” She pulled our hands out of the water.
“Is this who you are?” She tapped the diamond on my finger. “Or is this just a
part of your path . . . of your decisions on this one path? Nothing about this
ring changes who you are or who you can be. It’s merely a stepping stone of
your life. What you do with it is up to you.”

I watched my hand disappear under the surface of the water as I
lowered it from Mo’s grasp. The stone’s sparkle was loss in the cloak of
darkness. Perspective.

Chapter 8

“HEY YOU.” MO’S throaty voice strangely lifted my spirits the
moment I heard it.

“Hey, yourself. How’s Key West?”

“Girl, it was some kind of wild.” Her voice carried the smile I
knew she must have been wearing. “But I’m headed back to the real world soon.”

“And what exactly do you call the real world?”

“Ha! In this case I would call it Atlanta, Georgia.”

“I s’ppose that’s real enough.”

“So, I’ve got a gig up there weekend after
next. Jaz is coming. I was hoping you would tag along with her. Y’know see me
in action.”

I pushed the doors open to the emergency room and held my finger
up when I saw Angie waving from behind the nurse’s desk. She gave me the okay
sign before returning to her charting.

“Would your silence be a no?”

“What? Oh no, sorry. I was looking to see if I was on call that
weekend.” I felt the lie stain my lips the moment I let it pass. I already knew
I wasn’t on call as I had checked the schedule last week when Jazlyn asked me
to go with her.

Mo and I had spoken several times on the phone after meeting in
Seaside. I enjoyed the conversations very much and found her to be a charming
distraction from my thoughts of Sam. She had never ventured into what I would
call serious flirtation or beyond a friendly conversation; so, the company was
both enjoyable and comfortable. But this . . . this was entirely different.
This was seeing her again . . . seeing her in her own element.

She read me when we sat on our sandy seats the night on the beach.
Wasn’t I nervous to see what else she may decipher in me should I see her
again? I knew after that night, I still held a glimmer of hope Sam would
return. Somehow I dreamed she would walk up to me and tell me we would figure
things out together. Mo never asked about Grant or my family. I’m not even sure
she knew his name. She let me carry our talks where I wanted them to go—not
once did these include him.

“How about this? How about you look at your schedule then get back
to me? I’ve got to run to do a sound check before the show. I’ll talk to you
later.”

“Okay, have a good show. We’ll talk soon.” I ended the call and
tapped the receiver against my chin.

Angie met me at the corner of the desk. “Hiya, Doc. Whoa, what’s
got you all flushed?”

I touched my hands to my cheeks. The blush was warm against my
palms. Mo.

“Got one for you in exam room three.” She handed me a chart.

“I appreciate it, Angie, but I’m not on call for the ER today.”

“This one here’s a special request.” She used her pen to point out
the name on the chart.

“Tyler Richard? What happened to her?”

“She fell down and went kaboom.” Angie smirked. “Got her a nasty
cut on her pretty little chinny chin chin.”

“Did anyone call Dr. Richard?”

“You mean Dr. Dick? Yeah, we called him. Little bastard had the
nurse to tell me he was in a case and to call you. Besides, Doc, you sew much
prettier than he does.”

“That may be so but he’s her husband.”

“Tell him that. Gotta’ run, Doc. Got you all pulled in there. Laid
out a bunch of different sutures for you. Make her pretty again.” Angie headed
down the hallway toward the trauma rooms. She turned and walked backward. “Oh
and Dr. Breaker should be in here in a bit so you’d better hurry if you want to
beat her in there.”

“Dr. Breaker? Why is she coming?”

“Cuz she’s knocked up. She passed out so OB has to check out the
baby.”

I pulled back the curtain leading into the examination room. “Hey,
Tyler, what happened?”

The vibrant woman I had shared dinner with on a few occasions sat
on the side of a gurney like a scorned child. She lifted her head barely enough
for me to see her eyes. She kept her hands clasped in her lap.

“Hi, Rayne.” Her voice was subdued. “I’m sorry
they called you.”

“I’m not.” I sat on the edge of the bed to lift her chin so I
could study the cleaned cut there. Whoever had cleaned her up had done a fine
job. Careful not to touch the wound, I gently moved her face side to side to
get a full visualization of it.

Her eyes caught mine to hold them within her stare. “Do you treat
all of your patients like this?” She looked back and forth between the side of
the bed where I sat and the small stool left rolled up next to the bed.

“Oh.” I started to stand but she caught my wrist with her hand.

“No, please. It’s nice.”

I felt a wave cross over me from the combination of sincere warmth
and sadness in her eyes. She moved her hand from my wrist to my hand and held
it gently before pulling it up to rest against her forehead.

“Oh, Rayne.” She sighed deeply. “What am I going to do?”

“About?” I felt as if I could do no more than whisper as I watched
her wrestle with her feelings. Plus, her breath against my arm was not helping
much. What the hell?

“Did you hear I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.” From her expression I didn’t feel a congratulations was in
order or even warranted.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love this baby but now . . . now I’m tied
to him forever. And look at him. Where is he?” Tears slowly fell from her eyes.
“He could care less I’m here. Look, he even sent you to take care of me.”

I wiped her cheeks with the thumb of my free hand but kept my
other hand where she seemed to need it most. “I’m glad to be here.”

She forced a smile.

“What did he say about the pregnancy?”

Her smile turned into a sideways smirk. “That it’s my fault and I
should’ve been more careful.”

Dick.

“He said he was going to be too busy to take care of a kid and I
would have to figure out how to manage without him. I mean the pregnancy will
be fine while he and Grant are gone to New York but if he gets accepted for
that year program, I don’t know how I will manage a baby alone. I can barely
afford to take care of us on my salary. I don’t know how I’ll pay for
childcare.”

“Wait. What?” I was having trouble keeping up with her because she
was speaking rather quickly but I knew for certain I hadn’t heard anything
about a year program. “What year program?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You know, the chance to train under
that hot shot vascular surgeon up there. He’s taking two residents from UAB.”

“No, no. I don’t know about that.” I pulled my hand from hers as I
shook my head. “Grant told me about the rotation but I thought it was like for
a few months or something. I didn’t realize it could turn into a year.”

“Well, yeah the first stint is. A group will go up from August to
the end of October or early November. I can’t get a straight answer out of
Paxton. But then they’re supposed to choose two residents out of that group to
go back for a year.”

I felt myself take a step back and rock on my
heels. A year? He could be gone a year and I knew nothing about it? Why
didn’t he tell me? It seems we were both having possible changes in our lives
that neither one of us was sharing with the other. I began to feel an
uneasy discomfort of this being my life—pregnant by a man I wasn’t truly in
love with and living separate lives because there were pieces we didn’t want to
or couldn’t share with each other.

Tyler put her hand on mine. “Rayne, I had no
idea you didn’t know.”

Her need to console me brought me back to the reality in front of
me. This wasn’t the time or the place to think of such things. “It’s fine.” I
patted her hand. “That’s not of our worries right now.”

“Then what is?”

I looked at the tray of supplies. “Fixing this nasty cut. I’m
afraid it’s going to need stitches.”

She smiled a real smile this time. “I’m in good hands. Have at it,
Dr. Storm.”

“This should heal really well,” I said, tying off the last of the
nylon stitches. “I put a few absorbable sutures underneath. Come back in seven
days so I can remove these nylon ones. They’re just here to keep the skin edges
together but I don’t want to leave them in too long or they may scar.”

“Can someone tell me who on God’s green earth thought this
ultrasound would be effective outside the patient’s room?” Violet’s
voice was loud, leaving little doubt that the entire emergency room hadn’t
heard her. Tyler flinched and looked at me with a “who the hell is that”
expression.

The curtain pulled back quickly. “Hello, Mrs. Richard, I’m Dr.
Breaker from OB. Let’s have a look at this little baby.” She saw me and stopped
pushing the ultrasound cart. “Dr. Storm.”

“Dr. Breaker.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Mrs. Richard
had someone with her.”

“Call me Tyler.” She pointed to the fresh
black sutures on her chin. “I cut my chin when I passed out. Dr. Storm had to
sew me up.”

“Aw, I see.” Violet looked around the room. “You have got to be
kidding me?” She pulled the curtain back again and nearly ran head first into a
nurse who was quickly rounding the corner.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Breaker. I’ll have you ready in a second,” the
young nurse said as she finished wheeling the cart next to the stretcher. Her
hands shook as she plugged the electric cord into the wall.

“Do you see anything else missing?” Dr. Breaker’s eyes threw
daggers at the nurse. “Well, don’t look at me, nurse. Look at the patient. What
is missing?”

The nurse bit her lip as she searched over Tyler. Tyler looked
nearly as frightened as the nurse did. “Umm . . .”

Dr. Breaker sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. “Let’s see. You
page an OB doctor because you have a pregnant female who suffered a loss of
consciousness sustaining a laceration as she fell. A pregnant female. Oh
dear Lord in heaven. A monitor. Wouldn’t you think a fetal monitor would be
good for this patient?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” The nurse dug into the drawers of the cart,
trying to find the monitor.

I was having a hard time not leaping in to help the poor girl but
I had no idea where the monitors were kept. Yet I felt pretty certain they
weren’t in that slim drawer she was searching in.

Dr. Breaker stepped in between her and the cart. She raised her
hand in the air. “Just get out of here and find me someone who knows what the
hell they’re doing.”

The young woman wiped away a tear as she brushed past me and
disappeared behind the curtain.

I turned around.

Dr. Breaker was looking at me. “Were you finished, Dr. Storm, or
do you need more time?”

“Oh no. I’m finished.” As if I was going to say anything different
to Dr. Ball Breaker. I’d completely forgotten she was Violet and wondered if
she too had forgotten or rather regretted the friendship we had started
developing in Florida. Could she feel it a betrayal to Sam? I ignored the image
of Sam as it appeared in my thoughts.

I peered around Violet’s shoulder to Tyler. “The nurse will bring
you an instruction sheet as to how to care for the wound.” Tyler looked at me
with begging eyes and I knew she didn’t want me to leave her with Dr. Breaker. Sorry,
kiddo. You’re on your own here. “I’ll see you in seven days.” I turned to
Violet. “Dr. Breaker.”

She nodded. “Dr. Storm.” Then she winked and mouthed the words,
“Nice seeing you.”

I walked from the room, wondering how she could do that. How can
you bless out a sweet young nurse and then smile a second later?

“I’m going to need a shot of something strong after this night,”
Angie said as she passed me while wheeling in yet another cart into the room.
“Dr. Dick’s wife and Dr. Ball Breaker all in one room. Being charge nurse sucks
dirty ass. Do you hear me? Dirty ass.” She held back the curtain. “Dr.
Breaker,” she said in a more pleasant voice. “I apologize for us not being
better prepared for you. I’ll be your nurse from here forward?”

Angie had a point though. Tonight called for a shot of something
very strong and I knew just where to go.

“HEY, CHICK.” JAZLYN was making adjustments to the sound board as
I walked into the Pineapple Post. “You’re cutting it close tonight. Women
should start coming in very shortly.”

I wondered if she ever considered I might choose to stay one
night. So far I hadn’t. “Got tied up in the ER. Some fiery OB/Gyn came in
raising hell. Had the whole ER buzzing.”

Jazlyn gave a hardy chuckle. “Uh oh. Did she turn into Dr. Ball
Breaker tonight?”

I blinked at her, surprised that she knew Violet’s nickname. “You
know about that?”

Jazlyn stepped down from the deejay area. “Oh, hell yeah. Vi’s
sort of proud of the nickname.”

“No shit.”

“Are you kidding? She loves it. She says people respect her more if
they’re afraid of her.”

“Well, then she was gettin’ a whole lotta
respect tonight.” I followed Jazlyn to the bar. She reached into the ice bin to
pull out a beer. “Not tonight, my friend. I think I need something a little
stronger.”

“Oh, really? Been one of those days?”

“You can say that again.”

“Pull up a stool. I’ve got just what the doctor ordered.” She
pulled a bottle from the shelves behind her and poured a clear liquid into two
shot glasses.

I recognized the Patron bottle the minute her hands gripped the
neck. I closed my eyes to the memory of Sam’s hands over mine as she instructed
me on the art of shooting tequila. She’d given me a swarm of butterflies that
night. Butterflies that drowned in the warmth of the tequila buzz. My lips
loosened to let spill the intoxication of her smell as I fell into her arms. As
I fell into her. I could feel the softness of her sheets against my skin.

“Hey.” Jazlyn’s hand was on my arm. “Where’d you go?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pushed the shot glass toward me. “Only one person
brings that look on your face.”

I slammed the liquid back, hoping the burn would ease the hurt in
my heart. Unfortunately, it only managed to make me cough. I slid the empty
glass back to her. “Again.”

Light poured into the darkened club as the entrance door opened.
Jazlyn squeezed my arm to steady me. I realized I must have jumped.

“Hey, girls. Come on in. The pool table’s all set up for you.”

“Thanks. Can we have a pitcher of whatever
you’ve got on tap tonight?” one of the four girls said as they walked to the
pool tables.

“Sure thing. Got a light and dark. What are you in the mood for?”

“Make it a dark.” She held the hand of the shorter girl next to
her.

Jazlyn gave me two more shots in the time it took her to fix a
tray with a pitcher of beer and four mugs. She pointed at me as she walked
around the side of the bar. “Stay. I’ll be right back.”

I watched Jazlyn as she talked to the four of them. They looked
young and alive . . . full of uninhibited smiles. I felt a heavy weight on my
shoulders at the irony of me describing the girls in that way. They were
probably a mere couple of years younger than me. Yet I felt at least ten if not
fifteen years older than them. Two of the girls giggled as they had found an
escape in one another. They playfully tugged at each other’s body as they
leaned against the side of the pool table.

I rested my head in my hand as I propped my arm up on the bar. The
empty shot glass sat in front of me. “I don’t remember the last time I
giggled,” I said to Jazlyn as she walked back behind the bar. “You know,
giggle.” I rubbed my fingertips in circles around my temples. “I feel so old.
Like a woman who has watched her life go by.”

Jazlyn placed her finger under my chin and raised my eyes to her
level. “But see . . . that’s the beauty of it all. You aren’t old and you
haven’t let your life pass you by. You’re young and fully capable of changing
your life.”

I tapped my finger on the rim of my empty shot glass. “Why don’t
you ever ask about him?”

She filled my glass. “Because he has no
bearing on our friendship. And he’s your story to tell. Figure when it’s
us—it’s us.”

“She used to ask about him all of the time.”

“That’s because he had a huge bearing on yours and hers. Sam
wanted you from the get go. He was who had you.”

“Not really.” I drank the tequila hard and fast. “He’s never had
me the way she did. Why couldn’t she see that?”

“She was too close.”

I thought of Tyler. I saw her tearful eyes looking into mine,
searching for answers I’m sure she didn’t find. The tequila rose in my throat
with a soured taste as I thought of Paxton and Grant’s plans. Not once had he
mentioned the possibility of the year extension. I thought of her sitting alone
in an emergency room. No, not alone . . . she was sitting there with their
unborn child. I thought of her feeling pregnant, alone, and trapped in a
marriage she didn’t want to be in any longer.

“I don’t want this life.” The glass had magically been filled
again but this time I felt the spinning of my head as I leaned back to drain
its contents. My vision had to catch up to the position of my head as I looked
back at the giggling girls. “I want that.”

“Whoa, sister, you’re going to have to slow down. That last bit
came out a little slurred.”

“No.” I held my glass up. Or at least, I think I held my glass up.
“Please give me another. I don’t want to think right now. Please.”

I opened one eye to notice dimmed recessed lights above me. The
room was a quick blur as I lifted my head to look around the room. Damn
tequila. At some point Jazlyn must have helped me up the stairs to their loft.
I pictured a distorted image of her leaning over me and telling me we’d work
all of this out together. That must have been when she deposited me on her
couch. I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket to send a text before rolling
back on my side.

Text Message to Mo at 1:55am . . .
“I’ll b there.”

Text Message from Mo at 2:10am . .
. “Gr8!”

Chapter 9

“SEE, WHAT DID I tell you?” Jazlyn screamed
out over the crowd.

I’d never imagined in a million years the women surrounding me
now. The club was at least twice as large as the Pineapple Post and I dare say
there wasn’t one single spot of flooring not covered by feet.

“I’d kill to have a place like this.”

Or at least that was what I think I heard her say over the many
voices drowned out by sounds of music pumping through the speakers. Then it
occurred to me, I could be in near solitude here. I could absorb the scene
around me yet not have to talk or be nervous or even dance as there was little
room to do any of it. I didn’t have to worry about expanding out of my own
thoughts as it was too loud to do anything but feel the base vibrating my
chest. A little over two hours from Birmingham and here I was standing in a
club full of smiling women. Their bodies leaned into each other as they
strained to hear their spoken words. Their casual touches of hands on arms,
shoulders, smalls of back were a sign of attraction or comfort between them. A
sign they didn’t try to hide or dampen. They were open to everything they
wanted to share. And here I was standing in the middle of them grinning like a
fool.

I caught Jazlyn’s eyes on me and she burst out into a grin. “See.
This is why I kept asking you to stay at my club instead of jetting before the
crowds came.”

“Yes, but no one in this crowd knows me.”

She smiled in understanding but was suddenly distracted as she
looked up over the crowd. “Come on. She’s about to start.” She pulled my arm to
move us closer to the large deejay box. “We need to get closer.”

The lights dimmed to black as the voices around me quieted. A
violin was heard alone in the darkness. The airy, violin presence sounded as if
it had taken the stage before us. Its notes streamed together in a near
torturous song of shyness seduced by pain and sadness. Falling rain drops
filled the wall-to-wall screen behind the deejay’s booth. Softly they fell
across the screen. The violin’s scream became stronger, confident, and powerful
as the raindrops fell into a storm. A flash of lightning erupted across the
wall as the lights above us turned on bright all at once and then faded again
into darkness. My senses were intensified to the energy of standing in the
middle of a created storm. A synthesized beat joined into the fast,
unconventional violin strings. Another flash of light and lightning.

“Can you feel it?” a sultry voice, deep and low sounded out over
the electronic music. “Come on, ladies . . . can you feel it?” The voice held
the last words to linger over the sound system before they faded into song.

The lights lit up one by one over our heads. A keyboard’s notes
teased into a slow crescendo.

“Say my name and you can dance.” That voice. The voice I had grown
to know as a friend sounded much different than the one I had heard over the
phone.

The crowd erupted in a scream. “Mo!”

Boom.

The bass exploded with one final lightning strike. I could feel
the pounding beat in my chest as laser lights danced around us. Strobe lights
flashed until they centered on the female now standing in the deejay box.

The crowd roared in unison as they sprung up and down on their
feet. One beat. One crowd collectively dancing to that one beat.

She held her hand up in the air as she danced with them to the
music. She adjusted the oversized earphones until only one covered her ear.
“The night is ours!” She moved her hands along the large instrument panel until
the beat faded into an even faster paced rhythmic collection of strings, keys,
and beats. “Now dance your beautiful asses off.”

Jazlyn’s face was as energetic as the bodies moving around me.
“Isn’t this friggin’ amazing?”

And it was. I was held captive by Mo. Her body flowed—no, became
one with the music. She raised her hand in the air and swayed to the beat as
the other hand deftly moved across the panel—pulling, pushing, or spinning the
device to will her tunes. Her hands created their own rhythms as they moved
from the panel board to adjust the phonos from her ears to her bare neck. I
wondered if she had cut her hair as I couldn’t imagine that much hair staying
tucked in the newsboy cap she was wearing.

The beat she created enticed my body to sway
with hers. I was under her spell as much as anyone surrounding me. She didn’t
release any of us as her music streamed unbroken. Her voice called to give our
bodies freely to her, reassuring us she was in control tonight. Women shouted
their submission to her as their bodies moved collectively. Heads bobbed to her
cadences, they bounced on their toes to her tempos and swayed their hips to her
pulses. I was no exception although my screams were silent. It was a seductive
trance she had us in, undulating our bodies to her creations. Sweat gently
rolled down the small of my back. She was as erotic as the music she was
vibrating through the women . . . through me.

The strobe and dancing lights kept the faces darkened from me.
Only rarely would one hit a face just right for me to make out their
expression. Flash, beat. Flash, beat. The faces of women all strangers to me
spun around in the light. Was I so oblivious to think I would see one type
here? Had I not considered women of all shapes, sizes, races joined together
for one night. Feminine. Androgynous. Casually dressed. Sporty dressed. All
strangers to me. The lights flashed on and off to the beat.

Sam.

Off.

On again. Sam’s face.

Sam?

Off. I looked at Jazlyn.

“What?” Jazlyn mouthed. “You okay?”

I nodded. Couldn’t be. I’m seeing things.

The music lowered. “Ladies. You’re killing me. You look too damn
good for me to stand up here all night.” She moved her hands across the panel
one final time before she took her earphones off and walked down the stairs.
The screams were the loudest I had heard yet.

Mo made her way through the crowd. Not an easy feat as she was
stopped multiple times. Her clothes did much to hide the body underneath. She
wore a white tank top which fit snugly against her chest. Her lean, long arms
were adorned with bracelets. Her hips were covered with blue jeans tied
together by leather straps instead of a zipper and button.

Jazlyn swooped her up in a hug the moment she came to stand in
front of us. “Girl, you’re freakin’ killing it tonight!”

Mo grinned ear to ear. “This crowd is crazy. I don’t think we
could fit another woman in here.”

“You just make sure you bring this sort of crowd out when you come
play at the Post.”

“No doubt.” Mo diverted her attention to me and smiled the one I
did not see when she talked to the young girl at the taco stand. “Hey you.”

“Hey, yourself. You’re amazing.”

Mo leaned in to hug me. “I believe you owe me a dance.” Her voice
and the breath that followed it tickled the hairs of my neck.

I let my lips find her ear, sort of hoping mine might have the
same effect on her. How could it in reality? Any one of these women could be
hers. “I believe I told you I don’t dance.”

She leaned back, raised her eyebrows with surprise and grinned.
“But what if it was your favorite music?”

The music suddenly changed as another electric violin played,
followed by the undeniable voice of Annie Lennox singing, “Sweet dreams are
made of this.”

I could do nothing but smile in my defeat.
Mo’s face brightened in the flashing strobe light. She shook her hair free from
the newsboy cap and handed it to Jazlyn. Thank the Lord she hadn’t cut it.

“We’ll be back.” She grabbed my hand and led me out into the crowd
of staring women. Their faces were visible to me in the flashes of the strobe
lights. Thankfully, I still did not recognize a face. Although many of them
carried the same recognizable expression. I felt like the envy of each of them
as they watched the woman who’d taken over their bodies guide me into their midst.

The music changed. The opening of “You Spin Me Round (Like a
Record)” started to play. She had made a collection of popular eighties songs.
She turned to me and walked backward as she sang. She swayed her hips.

“I’m serious. I don’t know how to dance,” I
yelled over the music.

Mo smiled. “Look around, Love. There isn’t room to dance.” She
held her hands in the air. “Feel the music.” She leaned into me and breathed
into my ear. “Feel me.”

I felt my heart skip. This time the vibration came from Mo not the
bass. Her hands slowly skimmed down my arms and around my wrists as she placed
my hands on her hips. She put her hands on my hips. I felt the pressure of her
grip urging my movements to and fro with hers. She uttered not another word,
yet her eyes spoke volumes to me in her unreleased stare.

I recognized the lyrics, telling about moving forward using all my
breath. “I Melt With You” was one of my favorite songs from the eighties.

I became unsteady in the sensation of her body morphing into my
own. Her hips against mine ignited uneasy feelings.

I wanted to stop the world and melt into this moment.

I envisioned no one but us in the strobe-lit
darkness. The grip of her hands soft yet determined as they held me tighter
against her. I felt the heat of her palm against my skin as she slipped her
hand under my shirt to lie against the small of my back. The strength of her
hand pushed me into her thigh as her leg interweaved between mine.

She smiled. She nestled my thigh tightly between hers. I felt the
strength in them as she lowered our hips.

So many of my favorite songs from the era filled my ears as the
back of her fingers, warm and sensual, traced a pattern along the inside of my
jean’s waistband. A clip from “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” started playing. I
knew the feeling of her hands on my skin was one sensation I would not forget
for a very long time. Her hands reached the front of my jeans where she gripped
them tightly and pulled me into her. Perspiration of desires not awakened for
so long broke out in beads of sweat along the back of my neck. Her hand found
the dampened curls there as it traced a pattern up my back.

Each pulsating beat tore me down from the inside. She was taking
my breath away just as the lyrics of the song described. Her eyes held me in
locked trance as they drifted from lips to eyes . . . eyes to lips. Her hair
tickled my cheek as her body melted into me. My breath was as the song
described.

“Take my breath away.” I wondered how she picked so many of my favorite songs.

Dizziness filled my head within the fog of curtain smoke as her
chest, heavy with her breaths, rose and fell against mine. The closer she
brought our bodies together, the more I felt the pressure of her breasts
against me.

Excitement . . . intrigue . . . arousal. Each completed me in
equal proportions to the very core of my body as it was held in the gravity of
her arms. Breaths escaped and retreated in labored fashion as her hand found a
new tempo along the skin of my stomach. My body was hers for all she wanted it
to be in that dance. It was hers for all it could be.

The last lyric told me what I wanted to feel in this moment. Even
if only for today, if only for this moment, couldn’t I be unafraid?

Returning to Jazlyn, I was more aware of the faces in the crowd as
they seemed to be watching me in the midst of Mo’s return to the deejay booth.
Jazlyn said little. No doubt she was remembering a conversation warning Mo to
not mess with me. I know I was remembering it and was left to wonder if that
dance would be termed beyond friendly.

One by one, I searched the faces around me. Watching to see if
their dances mimicked the one I had experienced. Blondes. Brunettes. Gingers.
Dancing.

Flash of light.

Sam.

Off.

On. Sam?

Off.

On again. Sam’s body moved through the crowd.

Off.

On. Sam stood in front of me. The darkness hid her face but
couldn’t hide the feeling of her hand in mine. My pulse raced as she tugged me
through the crowd. The music trailed behind us until it was a deafened noise
locked beyond the closed metal door as she pulled me through. Out on the street
behind the club, she maneuvered me through groups of mingling women and traffic
until we were nearly a block away. We entered a park at the corner of Piedmont
and Tenth Avenue. Sam didn’t slow her steps until we were standing next to an
empty park bench next to a small body of water. I didn’t know if the pounding
in my ears was Mo’s persistent bass or my heartbeat at the sight of Sam’s face
staring at me in the moonlight.

She was silent as she glared at me. I cursed the sweating of my
palm held within hers as I felt her grip loosen to release it. I squeezed in an
attempt to hold on tighter so she couldn’t let go of my hand.

“No, don’t let go,” I begged her.

She bit the corner of her lip and I felt myself melt in the memory
of it . . . in the memory of all that was her. “What are you doing here?”

“Jazlyn invited me.”

“I know the simplicity of what brought you here. I’m asking why
you’re here.”

The sharpness of her tone caused me to recoil. “I don’t know.”

“Figured you’d say that.” She briskly pulled her hand from mine
and turned to walk away.

“No, Goddammit, don’t you walk away from me.” I felt a wave of
nausea course through me.

Why? Why had I said it—that profanity I never say? I felt the
sickness in my mouth—the heated anger of it. Hadn’t I blamed my faith as much
as anything for the reason I was where I was now? Wasn’t my scorn for the
decision I had made somehow turned toward religion—toward the teachings which
had been shoved down my throat since I was old enough to sit in church with
Charlie Grace.

Sam turned to me to show sadness if not a hint of disappointment
in her expression. She studied my face. “Okay. I’ll stay.” She brushed the overgrown
shrubbery off the back of the bench and sat down.

Quickly, I sat beside her and took her hand. The fingernail moon
was but a sliver deep in the darkened sky. Oh, how I yearned to get lost in the
blueness of her eyes. I felt the warmth of her hand in mine as I stroked my
thumb against the tip of her finger. The street noise was all but drowned out
by the call of the insects in the night. Their song took me back to a night
with our toes dangling in the bayou water.

I looked over her shoulder into the rolling hills of the small
park. “The noises.” I waved my hand. “Reminds me of being back home on the
bayou with you.”

“Yeah, but they sound different.” I saw her catch a glimpse of the
charms hanging from my neck. I heard her swallow hard and wondered what she was
thinking, seeing the combination of the cross and cicada looped together along
the golden chain. Surely she would know I wore the chain daily but I doubt she
let herself think of the way I touched them constantly when I thought of her or
Meems.

“The cicadas don’t sound the same here,” she said flatly.

“I think those are katydids.”

“Katy dids?”

“There are a thousand different species of them. They say they’re
named because they sound as if they’re saying ‘Katy-did.’ ” Of course I knew I
was rambling about a silly insect fact because of my nerves. “Meems would tell
me . . .” I looked out into the water. I’m not sure if it was a reflex or
intentional but Sam’s grip tightened on my hand. “One of the folklore stories
is that there was a woman named Katy who was madly in love with this man. But
he left her to marry another.” Her grip loosened. “They were found dead in
their honeymoon bed the morning after they’d married. It was said they were
poisoned but no one saw the crime. Well, no person saw the crime. They say the
bugs saw what happened as they had been watching from the window. On hot summer
nights, it’s said they shout from the trees to tell us who committed the crime.
‘Katy-did, Katy-did.’ ”

I believe Sam may have stopped the smile that tried to curl the
corners of her lips. “I should’ve known you would have a story about them.”

“Guess I’m weird.”

“Not weird. Different.” She faced the park. “So, what are you
doing here?” she said with a softer tone than the one she had used earlier when
she asked.

“Jazlyn invited me. Violet had to take call this weekend so she
asked me to come with her.”

I’d hoped she would look at me but instead she turned her head
away even more. “And how’d you two become friends?”

“I met her when I went to the Pineapple Post.”

She snapped her head back and stared at me. “Why were you there?
Why did you even go there?”

“I overheard Kylie talking about it.”

“Oh? And what? You hear the Queen Lesbian Conqueror talking about
a lesbian bar and you just have to go. Were you hoping she would be your side
entertainment? Or maybe that’s why you’re here among hundreds of lesbians?
Trying to sew some wild oats before the big wedding day. Is that why you were
very nearly making out with Mo on the dance floor? Geez, Rayne, why don’t you try
to have some decorum about you and keep your little lesbian trysts discrete.”

Bitterness. That’s what her eyes held for me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared out into the tiny
moon’s reflection. The glow of the skinny moon was barely enough to cause a
sparkle across the small pond. I couldn’t speak for the fear of the tears
toppling over so I held my words for more than I had anticipated. I felt her
hand loosen to release mine. I didn’t fight it this time.

“It’s not like that,” I finally said.

We sat with the silence building between us. I turned to her and
bent my knee to lay it on the bench between us. “Sam, I don’t know what all of
this means. Why I’m here. I see these women being together so openly and yeah,
it makes me know there is something beyond what I’ve always been taught it
would be like. I understand why Jazlyn wanted me to come but it doesn’t change
what I feel.”

I watched her profile as she continued to stare out at anything
but me. She looked thinner than I remember. The shirt she wore was baggy over
her shoulders and chest. A large brown belt adorned her blue jeans and I
struggled to remember seeing her in a belt in the days we had spent together.
She tried to brush a strand of hair away from her eyelashes but the shortened
length didn’t stay tucked behind her ear. I wondered how long she’d had her
highlighted blonde hair cut this short as it rested just above her shoulders. I
wanted to run my hand along the side of her head and let the defined layers
flow between my fingers.

“It doesn’t change that it’s still only you.”

She looked at me. Her mouth opened with the arch of her lips
exposing her teeth as if she was surprised.

“Among all of these women, it’s still only you.” I picked
her hand up and rubbed the back of it across my face. The taste of her skin as
my lips parted against her knuckle sent a wave of butterflies through me.

Butterflies.

I searched her eyes . . . deeply as they searched my face. Her
eyebrows softened as I traced my thumb across her jawline. The layers did fall
softly between my fingers as I ran them along the back of her neck to pull her
lips closer to me. I closed my eyes to the thumping of my heart with her breath
now upon my lips.

Eucalyptus mint. I smiled to its scent.

I felt skin not lips upon my kiss and I opened my eyes. She held
her finger against them but left her forehead to rest against mine.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why?” I kissed her fingertip until she dropped it from my lips.

She inhaled deeply. “I barely survived our last kiss, Stormy. I
dare not attempt fate and try again.”

“I’m so in love with you that I can’t breathe when you’re near
me.” I felt the pleading in my words. I wanted badly to taste the kiss of her
again.

She moved on the bench and grabbed the hand I had resting across
the back of the wood. “And this?” She tapped the ring on my left hand.

Dammit all to the hell. That fucking ring. Why in the hell
did I wear that fucking ring tonight?

“Aren’t you engaged to Grant?”

“Sam . . . don’t. Don’t bring that up right now.”

“Why not, Rayne?”

“Because . . . because I know I’m not marrying him.”

“Does he know that?”

I placed my hands across her face, urging her to look into my
eyes. To read them as I knew she could. “I’m telling you I love you. Please
don’t do this. I need time. Time to get it all worked out. It’s not easy for
me.”

“But you said yes. You didn’t have to say yes. I was there. I was
in that room when he proposed. You had me but you still said yes.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No, no. That’s not true. I didn’t say
yes. I didn’t say anything. I went to find you. But then when I did, you didn’t
tell me we’d be together. You said we would try. That’s what you said.”

“Of course it is. Rayne, you wanted me to fit into your perfect
picture. You wanted me to guarantee you what it would be like so you could plan
it out just like you plan everything in your life out. But life’s plan isn’t a
guarantee. It’s ever changing and you have to be ready to make those changes. I
couldn’t . . . wouldn’t be that for you. I needed you to make the changes on
your own. I needed you to realize who you were without it being dependent on
me. Don’t you get it?”

“No, not really. We could’ve been together.”

“Yes, in your time—in your way.”

I dropped my hands in my lap. “So, I’m to
blame for losing you.”

“Sort of, because you showed me what I want.” She pulled her knee
up against her chest. “I didn’t tell you why I was here. My parents are
getting a divorce. Mother finally asked the old bastard for a divorce. I’m here
for her. See, Rayne, he had it all planned out too. His whole life, her, me . .
. we were all according to his plan. And then one day we weren’t. They had
never figured out who they were outside of his plan. You showed me how much
more of life I wanted. I fell so hard for you that I forgot the reality of the
situation. I wanted the fairy tale.”

She faced me and brushed a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t
realized had fallen.

“Falling in love with you made me realize I wanted more than sex,
more than one night stands. I want it all. I want love and sacrifice and
commitment. I want the woman who loves me to fight against all consequences of
what it means to do so. Maybe if you hadn’t changed that in me then I could be
what you’re asking of me. But I can’t. I can’t wait on the sidelines or hide in
the closet, loving you in secret while you pretend we’re only friends. Even if
it isn’t just Grant. You’re not ready to live in anything but secret. I’m
sorry. I want the fairy tale.” She stood and brushed the bench dust from her
jeans. “You deserve so much more than what you allow yourself to be.”

She walked away. The silhouette of her in the darkness all but disappeared
until I saw it change direction. She stopped walking as she passed under a
sidewalk lamp. She leaned her back against the pole and stood still for several
moments. I thought I saw her head turn back in my direction but I wasn’t sure.
I sat on the bench, waiting for her to come back for me . . . waiting for her
to regret the words she had said. It was the same the night she left me after
Grant’s proposal. That night I waited for her to come to me, just as I was
waiting now.

No. No, this time I would go to her. This time I would show her
what I felt. I stood from the bench ready to run to her to plead for her to let
me try to give her all she needed. She was waiting for me at the light—waiting
for me to take the steps needed. My stride was fast with exhilaration of
knowing she wished for the same as I did. She was standing there, motionless in
the night. Until . . . the moment she pushed her back off the post and hurried
out of the park. She didn’t look back again.

Chapter 10

“MO, YOU WERE slamming tonight. I mean slamming.” A brown headed
girl who looked to be all of twenty-one stumbled over to our table.

A friend of hers followed closely behind and pulled at her arm as
she tried to rein her back to their table. The drunken girl braced herself by
grabbing the edge of our tabletop.

“I danced my fucking ass off,” she said far too loudly and with a
bit too much slur to be appropriate in the IHOP diner.

Mo’s eyes widened before she placed her hand
on top of the girl’s. “Thanks. Glad you had a good time.” She waved to the
waitress walking by the table the two women had walked from. “Will you bring
them a pot of strong coffee and put it on my tab?”

“Yes, ma’am. I sure will.”

“I’m so sorry.” The more sober of the two reached the table. “It
slipped up on her tonight.” She wrapped her arms around the other girl and
motioned her to come back to their table.

“What? Huh? Where we going?” she slurred as she tumbled into the
girl’s arms.

“No worries.” Mo smiled.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said as she pulled her friend back to
the table.

“Anytime. Get her home safely.”

“Will do.”

Mo removed the newsboy cap, tossed it into the seat next to her,
and shook her hair out with her fingers. The long locks tumbled over her
shoulders.

“New addition?” I pointed to the streak of blue-dyed hair that was
about two inches wide and ran from the root of her scalp down to the tip of her
hair.

I hadn’t noticed it when we were dancing. Had I really noticed
anything other than her piercing stare as her body molded into mine? It was
hard to think about the dancing with her because the sadness of watching Sam
walk away from me again was a heavy weight in my thoughts.

The bass clef tattoo disappeared into her tresses as she ran her
fingers through the blue colored streak. “Yeah, pretty new.” She leaned over
the white Formica table. “Don’t change the subject.”

I sat back surprised. I knew my attention was
half-assed but I didn’t realize I had changed the subject. “I didn’t think we
had a subject.”

“Your eyes say differently.”

Seems both of our eyes were something to contend with tonight.
What did my eyes tell her? I knew the thoughts behind them. I felt the sting of
tears I’d been forcing back ever since Sam walked away. The dance club had kept
them shadowed but here under the bright fluorescent lighting I suppose they
were visible for all to see . . . particularly the woman sitting across from
me.

I shifted in my seat until I could see Jazlyn through the glass
behind Mo. Violet had called right before we sat at our table.

“Is it because of the dance or something else?” Mo held concern
and worry on her face as she looked at me.

“It’s not because of the dance.”

Relief washed over her expression. Yep, it was concern I had seen.
“You had me worried. Thought I’d stepped out of line.”

“No, it wasn’t you.”

“I don’t care about that you know?”

I looked up to see her eyes on the ring finger of my left hand. Ugh
this damn ring. I felt the restaurant around me fade to black as I focused
only on the sparkle of the diamond against the harsh lighting. I clinched my
hand into a fist.

This damn ring.

The sounds of ceramic cups as they struck against ceramic saucers
. . . the scrape of cheap metal forks across plates . . . and the sounds of
voices carried in conversations muffled the words she had spoken. Or maybe it
was easier for me to focus on the noise than to hear clearly the words spoken
mere inches from me.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t
look at anything but the prism of reflected light on my finger.

“I said, I don’t care about that ring on your finger.”

This I heard.

“I’m not sure if you study it this way when I’m not around. But
like I said before, that piece of jewelry doesn’t define you to me. So why
don’t we let it be what it is when you’re around me.”

“I don’t know if I can right now.”

“Why?”

“I’m engaged. I said yes to a man who asked me to marry him.” The
plates, the cups, the chatter were all so loud. I felt the chaos in my head and
fought the urge to escape. Fought the need to run out into the night and far
away from the noise of it all. Far away from Sam’s words in my head, telling me
of how she needed me to choose her. Not only choose her, but also be open about
that choice. Had she really told me I had to do it all at once? Accept who I
am? Accept who we are and in a moment’s breath tell the whole world about it?
If I had heard it right, it didn’t seem like she was giving me much of a chance
to be the woman she needed.

Mo reached across the table and buried her hand underneath mine.
“And that means what?” she asked clearly, decisively. “Does it tell me who you
are? Does it tell me the woman inside of you?”

I stared at the bass clef at her wrist. The noises around me began
to still if not diminish.

“Rayne?”

That I also heard clearly. She didn’t have a nickname for me like
Sam did. I’d missed being called Stormy. I’d missed the way it made me feel
when Sam used it. But Mo called me by my given name and it elicited similar
feelings the nickname had once given me. Different but the same.

Mo’s eyes searched mine like no time I had ever seen before. She
squeezed my hand gently. “If it doesn’t define who you are . . . the woman you have
become, then it doesn’t matter to me. I could care less about that piece of
jewelry on your finger. Now . . .” She paused. I hadn’t realized my eyes had
drifted from her until she stopped talking. “The two charms on your necklace
may be a whole different story.” Nor had I realized I’d grasped the charms
between my fingers. “Something tells me those,” she pointed to the necklace,
“little doodads may very well define the woman sitting across from me. The
woman I want to get to know better.”

I felt my hand flinch and try to recoil from hers. She held it
still with a stronger grasp.

“Damn, did my girl ever have a bad night of call. It’s three a.m.
and she’s just now crawling into bed.” Jazlyn stopped and looked at us.

Mo released my hand and slid over for Jazlyn to sit down. “That
sucks dude. Was she beat?”

Jazlyn gave Mo a sideways glare. “That’s an understatement.” She
gazed at me. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all.” I motioned the waitress over to our table,
hoping she would be brisk enough to change the conversation.

A STEADY FALL of rain fell on the top of Jazlyn’s Range Rover as
she drove us back to Birmingham. My lids became heavy as I watched her hands
change positions on the steering wheel. Her long, slender fingers wrapped
easily around the wide wheel. They changed positions multiple times as we
traveled with nothing more than the sounds of raindrop splatters and light
acoustic music from the radio. I felt entranced as I watched both her and the
blurring white lines as we sped along the interstate.

“Do you want to talk?”

Her voice sprang the fatigue from my eyes. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to talk but maybe what I should’ve said was
can we talk?”

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

“How about you and Mo?”

I shifted nervously in my seat. “Okay.”

“You’re a grown woman. Both of you are. And it’s probably none of
my business but you’re both my friends so I think I should tell you somethings
about Mo.” She ran her hands over the steering wheel before adjusting the
volume control with her thumb. “I may be way out of line here. It’s just you
two seemed . . .  I don’t know . . . close. Like that dance and then walking up
on you in the restaurant. She was holding your hand.” She ran her hand through
her hair.

“It’s okay. You can tell me what’s on your mind.” I hated seeing
her so nervous in talking to me about anything. “You’re my best friend, Jazlyn.
I don’t know what I would do without you. You can talk to me about anything . .
. especially if it’s worrying you this much.”

She gave me an appreciative smile. “Thanks. I value our friendship
more than you know and I don’t want to see you hurt any more. Mo is my friend
too. She’s a wonderful woman and a great friend. We never had an attraction
between us. We were friends straight away without that ever interfering.” She
adjusted the defrost on the dashboard as the temperature change from the rain
had given the windshield a nice opaque covering. “I wanted you to find that
with her as well, but after watching you two dance, I think you have the
attraction part to deal with.” She peeked at me. “Or I suppose . . . at least
she does.”

That last part caught me off guard. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you ran off after you two danced. I figure it made you
uncomfortable so you jetted.”

“No, that wasn’t it.”

“Then what was it?”

I rubbed at my nose. The faint smell of old cardboard filled the
interior of Jazlyn’s SUV. I suppose she would have to use it to cart boxes
needed for her club. I wasn’t sure if the smell was the cause or if the tears
that lurked in the shadows of my mind brought the tickle to the tip of my nose.
When would I ever not feel this with the thought of Sam? Would I ever not
feel it?

“Sam.” I inhaled deeply. “Sam was there.”

“What? She was there? I didn’t see her.”

“Neither did I until she grabbed me and took me outside.”

Jazlyn glanced at me as if encouraging me to go on.

“We walked over to a park and talked.” Nope, it was the impending
tears as they now freely flowed down my cheeks. Dammit all to hell. When would
I stop doing this? I angrily wiped them from my face.

“I take it things didn’t go so well.”

“Not the way I wanted. No.” The trees along the road were nearly
hidden behind a sheet of rain. “Gawd, I love her so much.”

“But?”

I clenched my fist tightly until I could feel
the ring cutting into my skin. “It’s not enough. I hurt her. She doesn’t want
any part of me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way she looked at me. It
was like she hated me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Rayne. The woman I saw in my apartment
could never hate you. Hurt . . . heartbroken? Yes. But hate? No.” She touched
my hand as it rested on my thigh. “But I’m thinking that hurt is a two-way
street. Hmmmm? I’ve not been around you a day that your eyes haven’t shown the
same kind of pain hers did.”

I wiped more tears from my cheeks.

“So, where did you leave it?”

I felt the words stick in my throat unable to pass. Unable to
speak. I gripped my jeans with my free hand and squeezed hard. “It’s over.
Done. She’s not a part of my life anymore. Not a consideration when I think of
the future. Before, I guess I hoped she would be. Hoped we would find a way to
be together. She would come back and we would tackle all of it together. But
looks like anything I do from here, I’ll do alone.”

She held my hand tighter. “No, not alone. Never alone.” She pushed
the blinker on her steering column up and slowed her speed. “I need gas and
this one is covered. I’m not in the mood to become a drowned rat.” Her laughter
eased the tension.

“I can tell Mo’s attracted to you,” she said as she climbed back
into the SUV. “Where she’ll take that I have no idea. I asked her to leave you
be.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“You did?”

“The night at the beach. I overheard you two talking.”

She pulled her knee up into the seat as she turned to face me
straight on. “It was nothing against either of you. Nothing at all. I think both
of you are incredible women. It’s just . . .” She tapped her finger on the gear
shift that sat between us. “Mo is a wonderful woman, wonderful friend as long
as you love her for who she is and not what you want her to be. She lives life
by her own rules. I may talk to her for a month solid and then bam, she’s gone.
It may be a month or two before I hear from her again.”

“I get it.”

She straightened in her seat, turned the ignition on, but then
turned back to me. “She’s not girlfriend material, Rayne. God knows I love her.
I do. But she isn’t girlfriend material. She changes women more than I change
my underwear.” She tried to force a laugh. “I’ve never known her to have a
steady woman in her life. I don’t see her changing that about herself. She’s
happy the way she is. Free to live. Free to love. I doubt she’ll ever live in
one place long enough to set down roots.” She looked out the windshield and
shifted the SUV into drive. “I don’t see you as someone who could adapt to
that.”

I smiled in recognition of a friend—a true friend looking out for
me. There it was. The rainbow of happiness shining through the grayest of rain
clouds. I breathed in the scent of old cardboard. For the first time a scent of
sand, surf, and sunscreen lingered behind the cardboard. How had I missed her
air freshener until now?

“Thanks.” I patted her thigh. “Thanks for being my friend. No
worries. It was only a dance.”

The words brought a swift reminder of the sensation of a blue
jean-clad thigh pressed between mine had caused.

Chapter 11

“SON OF A fucking bitch!” Grant screamed from the bathroom.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I burst through the door
agitated with his vulgarity.

To be honest, I had been struggling to keep from being agitated
with everything about him. I’d hardly slept a wink the night before. The mere
sound of his breaths as he slept kept me from finding my own sleep. It wasn’t
his fault and I knew he didn’t understand why I had been so short tempered with
him. I was trying to be more patient and attentive to him but I was failing
miserably. The timing of his acceptance to go to New York couldn’t have been
better. I needed the time alone.

I realized I was standing in rising water as it filled the
bathroom floor and spilled out into the hallway.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He frantically fought to reach the water shut
off valve behind the commode. The picture of his naked butt as he bent over was
not the sight I wanted to see before my first cup of coffee.

“I don’t have time for this shit this morning.” He stood up to
face me.

I believe I may have winced as I held a towel out in front of me.
“What happened?”

“Do I look like a plumber to you?”

“No, actually right now you look like an ass to me.”

He snatched the towel from my hand and wrapped it around his
waist. “Nice, Rayne. Very nice.” He sloshed pass me. “My plane leaves in three
hours. I’m going to my place to get dressed.”

“Are you serious? You’re leaving me like this?”

He turned in the hallway. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Hey, I don’t know. Here’s a novel thought . . . why don’t you act
like a boyfriend and stay to help me get my plumbing taken care of?”

“Maybe if you acted like a girlfriend sometime, I would feel more
impelled to act like a boyfriend.” He walked into the bedroom but stepped back
to peer around the doorjamb. “Or, hey, better yet since we’re fucking engaged,
maybe you could act like a fiancé sometime. Wouldn’t that be a grand idea?” He
shed his towel and jerked his clothes on over his body.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m leaving today for three or maybe even four months. I spend my
last night with you thinking . . . I don’t know, that we may act like a couple
about to be separated for three months. You’re so freakin’ frigid all of the
time that even last night I couldn’t get a little.”

“Get a little? Did you seriously just say that to me?”

He stepped quickly to stand in front of me. “I sure as hell did.”
His breath was hot against my face. The smell of toothpaste followed. “I can’t
even remember the last time we’ve had sex. You act repulsed when I touch you
but I thought last night . . . surely last night we could be together. I
shouldn’t have to jerk off as much as I do when I have a fiancé.”

“Well, what do you know folks. Dr. Dick number two is in the
house.” I stormed down the hallway to the kitchen, hoping he would leave. A
sharp pain shot through my jaw as I gritted my teeth. “Ass!”

A fully dressed Grant followed me into the kitchen by the time I
found my landlord’s number. His face was solemn. “Rayne, I don’t want to leave
like this. I don’t want to fight.” He sighed deeply as he rubbed his hands up
and down his face. “I just don’t get what has happened to us. I don’t. You act
like you can hardly stand to be with me in the same room sometimes. What has
happened to us? Please tell me what I’ve done. What I need to do.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter but wrestled with any words
to say to him. He looked defeated and lost. I had done this to him. I had
brought him here.

He kept his ground and didn’t step closer to me. “I’m leaving in a
few hours and we’re fighting. This isn’t us, Rayne. This isn’t who we are.” He
scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Should
I not have signed up for this rotation? Is that it?”

“No, it’s not your rotation. It’s not.”

He held his head down. “Then what is it? I just don’t know what
has happened to us. I know I get distracted with school. I’m sorry I got so
distracted with this New York thing. I’ll stay if you want me to. I won’t go.”
He closed the distance. His sad eyes drew my attention to them. Above the left
eye, I saw the small separation in his eyebrow. I pictured a young Grant
running to his mom after he fell from his swing and landed on a fallen branch.
My heart took him in as it had a way of doing. When I let go of the confusion
which easily manifested into anger, I was reminded of the little boy I had
grown up knowing. I was reminded of my friend.

He put his hands on my hip. “We’re so distant. It’s like I don’t
know you anymore.”

“Grant, we’re both changing. Have you ever wondered if we were
growing into different people?”

“No, not different. I’m not different. I want to get all of this
behind us.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him. “Get it
behind us and start our life together. Start our family.”

An image of Tyler’s quivering lip flashed across my thoughts.
Pregnant. Trapped. Unhappy.

He nuzzled his face against my neck. The whiskers scratched my
skin. “I love you so much, Rayne.” His breath warm. His lips dry, rough as he
kissed me. “I’m so sorry I said those ugly things.” His kiss on my lips was
forced. The coarse hairs pricked like small needles against my lips as he
deepened his search for connection.

A wave rolled over my stomach. Not a
butterfly. Far from a butterfly.

His kiss scrounged around and over my lips for any shred of
acceptance . . . of encouragement. He left them to let his mouth explore my
neck and pulled me closer against his chest. I felt his excitement in our
togetherness grow against me.

Far from a butterfly.

His fingertips dug into the skin on the outside of my thighs as
his hands raised my robe with their travels. His hips pushed me against the
counter when his pelvis responded to the urges his body was showing me he felt.
The pressure gave me nothing of the feelings the last time another’s body was
pressed against me. Another roll over my stomach.

I can’t do this.

Another thrust of him against me. The tie of my robe was loosened
and tickled the side of my thigh. The denim of his jeans felt coarse against
the thinness of my satin underwear.

No. I can’t do this.

The sound of his zipper was like a siren in my head.

No!

I stilled his hand as he tried to pull at the satin waistband. His
eyes caught with mine. They held sadness but no longer the traces of anger I
had seen a few moments ago.

“I get it.” He gave me a small smirk as he refastened his pants.
He kissed the tip of my nose. “When I return, we’ll do this right.” His smile
was strained. “Something to look forward to. I do love you, Rayne.” He kissed
the back of my hand and let his whiskers rub across the skin of my knuckle.
“I’ll miss you.”

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME?”

“I wish I were. I have a pond in my bathroom and hallway now.” I
held the cell phone against my cheek and studied the mess in front of me. “The
landlord says he will have someone out in a few minutes. I’m packing an
overnight bag now to go stay at Grant’s.”

“Ah. And is that where you want to stay?” Jazlyn’s voice was as if
she knew my answer already. From the time I had met her she seemed to know my
wishes sometimes quicker than I myself did.

“No, not particularly.”

“So come stay here.”

“I couldn’t do that. I’m in y’alls hair more than I need to be
now. This may take all weekend to repair. You do not want me staying on your
couch the entire weekend.”

“Nope. I wouldn’t dream of you staying on the couch that long. You
can have the bed.”

“Ummmm . . . what?”

Jazlyn’s laugh was throaty. “We’re going out of town, crazy girl.
We’re jetting as soon as Vi comes in from the hospital. You can stay here. It’s
no problem. Totally up to you though.”

I walked into the living room and looked
around the room. A change of scenery from my everyday life would very nearly be
like a vacation to me. One that couldn’t be found if I went from this place to
Grant’s. The memoires would only follow me there. “Are you sure you don’t
mind?” I asked as I sat on the arm of the couch.

“Not one bit, honey. I’d be happy if you stayed here.”

“Then I will. I can’t thank you enough. It would be great to have
a different atmosphere for a while.”

“Excellent. I’ll have the place ready for you.”

I felt the sting of Grant’s whiskers on my lips and noticed I had
reached up to rub at my bottom lip. I felt the wave of nausea run across my
stomach as I remembered his hips pressed against mine. “Hey, Jazlyn?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was dampened against the sound of glass bottles
clinking against one another.

“You sound busy. Are you?”

“Not at all. I’m just picking you out a good bottle of wine.
What’s up?”

“Gawd, sometimes I feel like all I do is ask you a thousand
questions. I’m afraid you’re going to become sick of me soon.”

“Not going to happen. If you haven’t figured it out yet . . . I
kind of like ya. Besides my brain needs a good picking every now and then.”

I slid off the arm of the couch onto the sofa cushion. I never
found it easy to talk to anyone about sex and this conversation would be no
exception. Maybe talking over the phone would be easier than sitting across
from her at the bar. “It’s kinda hard to talk about actually.”

“Ooooh, this one sounds juicy. Let me grab a seat.” I heard chair
legs slide across the floor and figured she was sitting at the dining table.

“Did you . . . I mean what was it like with Zach? Like in a sexual
way.” I felt my teeth biting into my bottom lip. “Did you like it?”

She was silent and I began to wonder if my question was too
personal.

“I’m sorry. If that’s too personal you don’t have to answer. We
can forget I said anything at all.” I pulled the sofa pillow across my chest
and held it tightly against me—immediately regretting I had asked the question.

“No. It’s not that. You can ask me anything.” She took in a deep
breath. “It’s just . . . this has to be between us. If I speak openly, it can’t
be repeated. Would you be okay with that?”

“Of course. Of course I would.”

“Whoa, okay. So I’ve not thought about this in
so long but here goes. Yeah, I did enjoy sex with Zach. I actually enjoyed it a
lot.”

“You did?” I asked so quickly that my filter didn’t have time to
catch up with me.

She laughed one of her belly laughs. “Yes. Yes I did. You sound
surprised.”

“Well, yeah . . . I mean.” I thought about what I wanted to say
next. “Yeah. I am surprised.”

“So I take it you don’t?”

“Like sex with Grant?” I felt the heaviness in my chest. “No, I
don’t. I never have. Not once.”

“That has to be tough. Are you two very active in that way?”

“No, I suppose not. He wants us to be more but we aren’t.
Thankfully, he doesn’t push it too much. School keeps us both pretty drained so
fatigue is a good excuse to go right to sleep.”

“And this subject comes up today because of why?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to remove the vision of
him pressed up against me. “Well, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for
a while now but he wanted to before he left and I just couldn’t. We did not too
long ago and I didn’t think I would ever stop crying. I just couldn’t go
through that again today.”

“How will you the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned into the phone. “Then maybe that is telling
you something my friend.”

I shook my head yes but didn’t verbalize the sentiment.

“Sometimes the answers are there for us all along. It’s the
acceptance of the answers that holds us back.”

“So, if you enjoyed being with Zach in that way . . . if you liked
it then why Violet?”

She chuckled. I had a way of making her do that. “It’s not about
sex. It never was with either one of them. It’s the connection. From the moment
I met Vi, I knew she was the one. I knew my life would never be the same.”

Sam. Sam’s face flashed into my head.

“You think a lot like Vi. It’s why we can’t
talk about it. She knows I loved Zach. She knows I enjoyed our intimacy. It’s
hard for her because I think in the back of her mind she fears she doesn’t
truly understand why I made the choices I made. Somehow she holds onto the fear
that I will one day want to go back to the straight life since I had found a
place in that world before I knew her.”

“It’s a reasonable fear, isn’t it?”

“Not to me it’s not. I love her. There’s no going back to anything
or anyone since her. She’s it for me. So, I keep quiet about the things I know
bother her most. Why spark her fears if I don’t have to? So now I have a
question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think the reason you felt the things you felt for Sam was
because you didn’t enjoy sex with Grant? Is it as simple as that?”

I tossed the pillow over toward the other end of the couch. “No it
wasn’t that at all. It was her. Everything about her. And when she did touch me
. . . when she kissed me, I’d never felt anything like that before.”

“So it was the person?”

“Yeah it was.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter 12

THE DAMNED RING slid up and down my finger as I struggled with the
door lock at Jazlyn and Violet’s loft. Lately the only thing keeping it on my
finger was the knuckle that hadn’t seemed to decrease in size like the rest of
me. I caught the scent of Jazlyn’s SUV as I opened the door.

I couldn’t help smiling to myself. She sure loved her escapes to
the beach. Thankfully she and Violet had needed a weekend escape back to the
beach. Jazlyn was right, I really didn’t want to stay at Grant’s apartment. So
much so, I had even contemplated staying in an empty sleep room near the
operating room while the repairs were being done. It would feel better to walk
into a real apartment instead of a dank room with an aged hospital bed covered
in bedding that should have long since been retired, a small television mounted
to the wall, and a bathroom with nothing more than the essentials.

The unexpected ruptured pipe was less than desired but walking
into their apartment felt pretty darn good. Their place gave me the opportunity
to be in a different environment. I didn’t sit at a table that took me back to
Memaw’s cabin. I didn’t fix my meals standing at a counter top with memories of
Grant pressed against me. I didn’t sit in a living room, envisioning Sam
sitting in the chair across from me. No, no one but the two women who had
become my friends followed me to the apartment. I dare say, not even Rayne
followed me there.

With Grant away . . . with my solitude I was starting to find a
new Rayne. A Rayne I do believe I was beginning to like more and more each day.
And now I stood in a gorgeous downtown loft with nothing of the old Rayne
carried as baggage with me. It was as if I was suddenly on an overseas
vacation. I didn’t even have call this weekend.

A piece of paper lying on the table next to a bottle of wine
rustled as the air conditioning kicked on. It was a note from Jazlyn.

The
place is yours. Make yourself at home. I put the number to the Thai restaurant
below. EAT. You’re wasting away on hospital food. Love Jazlyn.

Written below, close to the edge of the paper the note continued.

By
the way, you’re getting a solid ass whooping if I ever hear of you needing
anything at all and you not calling me right away! Just saying.

She had drawn a smiley face at the end.

Being a good girl, I placed my order, popped the cork on the
bottle, and sat down to enjoy a rather large glass of wine. The crisp liquid
continued to have a slight chill to it as I swirled the sip around in my mouth.
Jazlyn must have waited until the last minute to set it out for me to see. I
stretched my legs out in front of me, relaxing into the first night of my
vacation. The blue jean material felt good against my legs again. I had grown
tired of wearing scrubs day in and day out.

The sound of a key in the lock jarred my head off the back of the
couch. I ran to the door, watching as the key fought to unlock the door. Were
they back? Had something happened at the beach? I stepped back quickly as
the door opened all of a sudden.

“Mo?”

She seemed as startled as me. “Rayne? What are you doing here?”
She stepped back away from the door.

I looked down at the duffle bag at her feet. “Looks like the same
thing you are.” I motioned to my bag in the middle of the floor.

A smile crept across her face. “This could get interesting.” She
picked up her bag and stepped fully inside the door. “I knew Jazlyn and Violet
were out of town so I thought I could crash here.”

“I had a plumbing problem at my apartment. They’re having to
replace a bunch of sheetrock stuff. Jazlyn said I could stay here instead of in
a sleep room at the hospital. But I can go stay there so you can have the
place.” I looked down at her bag again. “If you want?”

“Why would I want that? Your company is icing. Unless you are
uncomfortable being here alone with me?” She peered at me from under her raised
eyebrows. “You know without our tall chaperone around?”

“Ummm . . . no . . . no, not at all.” Why wouldn’t I say no? It
wasn’t being uncomfortable that was bothering me. Hell, I bordered sheer terror
right about now.

“Excellent.” Her smile expanded even more. “Now that we have that
out of the way.” She stretched her hand out to touch the hair along the side of
my face. “Your hair looks great.”

I ran my fingers through the recently cropped, thinned,
straightened hair which now rested an inch below my ears. “Do you really like
it? I’m still not sure what I think of it. I’ve not had it this short in a
really long time.”

“Well . . . I’m sure.”

“And the color? It’s not . . . I don’t know . . . too much?” I had
gotten it high-lightened a caramel color throughout my hair but had my bangs
and a few stray strands dyed a blondish color. It was definitely a new style
for me. I didn’t even have a picture as an example of what I wanted. I simply sat
down in the chair of an unknown hairdresser and said that I wanted something
different. The young man’s face nearly burst with excitement as he described
what he wanted to do with my cut and color. I didn’t have the heart to chicken
out. After he was done, he spun me around to look in the mirror. I didn’t
recognize the woman sitting in the chair. It was then I truly realized how
different I was becoming. The physical me was beginning to catch up to the
changes growing inside of me. My cheekbones had always been high and defined
but the weight loss and this new hairdo accentuated them even more.

“Oh, I’m not saying it’s not too much.” She
ran her fingers through the bangs. “It’s too much alright.” She let them slowly
trace down the sides and around my neck. “But in a very good way.”

“You’re the first to see it.”

I worried I had gotten carried away with the new Rayne when I left
the beauty shop. Yet all of those worries fell to my feet with the reaction I
was witnessing from Mo.

“I’m telling you it’s freakin’ hot.”

I felt the blush color my cheeks.

“Aw, and you blush so adorably.”

The heat in my cheeks intensified a hundred fold. “You know most
people don’t call it out when they make someone blush. It makes it a thousand
times worse.” I felt the coolness of my palms as I patted my cheeks to reduce
the sting.

Mo stepped to the side of me to walk further into the apartment.
“I’m not most people.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

“Are you sharing?” She reached under the counter to pull out a
wine glass.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, please have some. Jazlyn left it out.”

Mo poured herself a glass of wine, leaned against the counter, and
gave me a quizzical look. She slowly sipped the wine as she watched me over the
top of her glass.

Under her gaze I felt the color return to my cheeks. I took more
of a swallow than a sip of the white wine. “What brings you to Birmingham? Are
you doing a . . . what’s the word you use? A show or a gig?”

She smiled at me as if she found every expression I gave her and
everything I said to her as something amusing or possibly even intriguing. “I
usually say gig but don’t know that there is one term better than the other.
And no. Not a planned . . .” She smiled. “Show.”

“Oh.”

Mo stepped closer to me. “Although, I try to always spin a few
when I crash at Jazlyn’s.”

“I usually see postings when you’re coming
but I didn’t see any.”

“Awww . . . keeping taps on me, are you?”

Another blush. “Ummmm . . . no. Nothing like that.”

She laughed and took a swallow of wine. “No, this is a stop on my
way to another gig. But like I said, I’ll try to spin a bit to pay for my room
and board.”

“So, how will anyone know you’re here? That you’re playing?”

Mo held my eyes with hers. She didn’t release me when she spoke.
It was like she was reading every single thought I had. It made me very
nervous. “I sent out a text to a few regulars earlier today. They’ll get the
word out.”

“Oh.”

She stepped even closer—nearly inches from me. Make that
extremely nervous. I felt the wine glass slipping from my dampened palms
but had no idea what to do with it. Mo stood so close to me that I would have
had to slide my arm in between us to place the glass on the counter. I didn’t
dare let our skin touch with the way she continued to hold me within her
emerald stare. Instead I placed my other hand at the base of the glass to help
support the stem.

“You say that a lot.”

“What?”

“Oh.” I was drawn to watch her mouth as she let the word draw out
from her lips.

I felt the desire of my eyes not to leave the beauty of them. In
barely a whisper all I could think to say was, “Oh.”

She watched my lips as I had done hers. I felt a rising heat not
on my cheeks but one escalating between us as we both studied each other’s
lips.

Buzz. Buzz.

Mo and I jumped.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” I walked to the intercom and pressed the button. My legs
were like Jell-O and took a great deal of will to get them to make it to the
door without stumbling. “Hello.”

“Hey,” a man’s voice called back. “Got your delivery.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Come on up.” I looked back at Mo. “Sorry,
I forgot I ordered Thai food to be delivered.”

“Don’t be sorry. Unless you didn’t order enough for two. Then you
can be sorry.”

I laughed. “Well, I was starving when I ordered and they give
really big portions so there’s definitely plenty to share.”

The smell of curry, lemongrass, and shallots escaped into the room
as I opened the stapled paper bag. They swirled around my head like an aromatic
tornado.

Mo walked out from the kitchen, carrying two plates. “Smells
fantastic. What ya order?”

“Tom yam goong and green curry chicken.”

“Nice. How about this? We eat, share another glass of wine, and
then you bring that sexy new do downstairs with me while I do a set?”

I grimaced. “I don’t know about that. I’ve never been when people
are there.”

“I’m sorry?” She dipped healthy portions of both dishes out onto
her plate and filled both of our glasses back up with wine. “What do you mean?
Jazlyn said she met you at the club.”

“Well, yes. That’s true. But I’ve never stayed late.” I took the container
she was handing me. “I come early before the crowd and leave before it fills
up.”

“Aw. Gotcha.” She licked the spilled sauce from her finger. “Can I
ask why?”

I dipped out slightly smaller portions than Mo’s and sat across
the table from her. “I live here. I work here. I’m not sure what would be said
if I was seen in a lesbian bar.”

“Darling, the only way people can see you there is if they are
there as well.”

“Yes, I know.” I sipped my wine. Okay, I took another swallow
instead of a sip. “I heard about The Pineapple Post when I overheard a
conversation between a girl in my medical school program and her friends. She’s
really out and really loud. I wouldn’t put it past her to say something
in front of everyone. I don’t know, it just makes me nervous.”

Mo pointed her chopsticks at me. “Now, that I get. I’ve known some
lezes like that in my day.”

I pushed a large shrimp and shallot stem around on my plate. Why
did I let everyone else, especially someone like Kylie, control what I did?

“You know that’s probably why you’ve lost so much weight.”

“What is?”

“You have to actually put the food in your mouth to be considered
as eating. It’s a little known fact.”

“Oh, is it?”

“It is.”

I knew she was joking. I knew she was, right? I’d been guilty of
mostly pushing my food around on the plate since coming back from Atlanta. Yet
I hadn’t noticed the weight loss until the nurses began giving me a smaller
size in my scrubs when I came into the operating room. Then there was the hint
of that damn ring fitting looser upon my finger, now sliding up and down along
my skin as a constant reminder of things left undone. Grant hadn’t necessarily
noticed or rather hadn’t commented on the weight loss but he had made
acknowledgements to the ring easily slipping from my finger. He’d offered to
have it sized. That was his comment, an offer to have the ring sized for fear
of me losing it. I vehemently declined as I didn’t want its tightness to return
to my finger.

“So why is that?”

I looked up from my plate to see Mo staring at me. “Why is what?”

“The food is pretty damn good so why do you sit there pushing it
around your plate?”

It did smell absolutely delicious when I first caught its scent.
On my plate the scent only made a wave of uneasiness in my stomach. A wave that
had been there since I watched Sam walk away. The wave which crashed through me
with the knowledge she was gone from my life. No words had made her stay. No
expressions of an unchanging love kept her by my side. All that stayed was a
deep pit of loneliness left by her retreating form. Food smelled. Sometimes it
smelled heavenly but the taste was absent on my tongue.

I felt Mo’s hand cover mine. I realized my cheeks were soiled with
fresh tears.

“That’s some seriously big hurt in your eyes, Rayne. It’ll consume
you if you let it stick with you.”

Consume me. Take me. Conquer me.

I let her fingers slide over the top of mine before I squeezed
them to hold onto her strength. “And how do you stop it?”

“You feel it fully. Absorb every fiber of it. Then . . .” She
squeezed back. “You let it go. Let if leave you without a mark showing it was
ever there.”

“You can do that?”

“Absolutely. Do it. Done it. Wrote a book about it.”

“You’ve had your heart broken?”

She released my hand and returned to her chopsticks. “We all hurt.
Have been hurt. Maybe not in the same way but still with pain. It’s what you do
with it that makes the difference.” She filled both of our glasses equally
until the bottle was empty. “I tell you what. You quit beating that food around
the plate and actually have dinner with me. Then we’ll go downstairs so you can
get lost in my music. Jazlyn always leaves a small sitting stool up in the
booth. She knows I never sit but it’s there anyway. I’ll position you where no
one will see you. You’ll be my little secret.” She held up her glass until I
raised mine. She tapped against it lightly. “Good. It’s settled.”

MO WAS TRUE to her word. We entered the deejay booth through the
back of the club. She sat me on the stool in the corner. I barely saw my own
shadow as it was quite dark in the booth. The overhead lights were positioned
to shine out onto the floor and not on the little corner tucked in the back.
She wasn’t wrong about the crowd either. The place was packed. From where I sat
I could see out across the dance floor and part of the entrance bar area. The
unrecognizable faces were a mix of women below me. There didn’t seem to be an
empty spot on the floor as they huddled in together. The aura of their
excitement filtered up onto the booth, and caused me to anticipate Mo’s
appearance as much as they seemed to be.

The lights went dark, which caused the crowd to scream out
collectively. They shouted Mo’s name. The music silenced.

Mo’s low, sultry voice sounded out over the crowd. “I’ve a vision
for us tonight.” She spoke slowly, meticulously giving each word its own
showcase. “Let the lights . . . the music . . . the vastness of the night’s
possibilities take you away from the day.” The silent crowd in the pitch black
held on to her words. “Trust me. Take my hand. Come with me into the night.” A
rhythmic beat slowly built behind her words. “I’ll not let you go.” The
thumping beat was joined by a higher pitched almost siren-type sound. “It’s our
night.” A loud boom sounded as the lights blew up blazingly. The crowd screamed
and there she was. Standing right next to me. Her body was swaying back and
forth as she manipulated the board in front of her to create the sounds that
had the women matching her motions below us.

She stole my breath away nearly as bad as she had in Jazlyn’s
apartment. When she went upstairs to change for her set, I had never imagined
she would come down dressed as she was.

Why wouldn’t I be attracted to her? She was
elegant in her natural beauty with her lean form a couple of inches taller than
me. Up until that moment, I’d only seen her relaxed, with her hair either in a
ponytail or stylishly messy and hanging off of her shoulders. The most makeup I
had seen her wear was light-colored lip gloss. And in all of those times, she
was still quite unbelievably beautiful.

That was not the Mo who walked down the staircase to greet me with
a glowing smile. This woman was perhaps the most gorgeous woman I had seen
outside of a runway or a television program. She wore a form-fitting black
dress that stopped below her hips to show off the legs I had seen sprawled
across a catamaran but never had they looked like this.

Maybe it was the black high-heeled shoes. Maybe it was the way she
walked with a sway to her hips. I don’t know what it was but I couldn’t take my
eyes off of her. She had stopped at the stairs and gave me a look which told me
my ogling had not gone unnoticed. Now those legs stood within arm’s reach of
me. The effect they caused at this close distance was far more than the one
they had triggered with a simple walk. Her hips and legs moved with the music
in front of me. Her head bobbed in a harmonious flow with the cadence of the
music. I sat in my little black corner, soaking in every drop of her.

“Feed my craving, ladies.” Mo put her hands up over her head and
counted out the beat, pointing out into the crowd as she did. “Let me feel
you,” she sang out.

She shifted her weight and leaned over me. “Feel the music, Rayne.
Nothing else in your mind.” She tapped my forehead lightly with her finger.
“Let this go and feel the music.” She put a set of headphones over my ears. The
music flowed through them uninhibited by any other sound or noise of the crowd.

Mo mouthed. “Feel it.”

With nothing but the metrical tempo sounding in my ears, I could
watch her with unreserved eyes. No, I could feel her. I could feel the
vibrations of the music. Everything about her was sensual. Her hips bumping
against the board as her fingers turned dials and slid across the turntable to
spin it in her desired direction. Each movement for a purpose. Turning,
spinning, dancing in the air, adjusting her headphones. All with the beat of
the music in my ears. I felt sweat bead at the small of my back as I gave in to
her rhythm and the precision of her fingers manipulating the board to her whim.
She wasn’t touching me in anyway. No skin upon my skin. Yet I felt her. Felt
the warmth of her long slender arms and hands upon my skin. The strength in her
fingertips pressed against my body. The pressure of her hips against me. It was
as real to me as the night she held me in a dance.

I caught the gleam of her eyes as she looked at me. She leaned
over me and placed both hands on the sides of the stool by my legs. She pushed one
side of the earphones off of my ear as her lips came to rest there. I could
feel the softness of her hair across my cheek and chin, tickling the skin.

“That’s it. Now you’re free.”

THE MOONLIGHT BOUNCED off of the tinted shower wall to light the
bedcovers I lay beneath. Nearly two hours ago I had said goodnight to the
verdant eyes which had held me entranced in the form that was Mo. I had stared
into the eyes emphasized with black eyeliner and blue eyeshadow until the
moment she blinked to break our contact.

Kiss me.

The words had sung in my head as I stared at the twitch in her
lips. I let my fingertips run along the edge of the coolness of my own lips.
The October night’s breeze carried a chill into the apartment. My stomach
rolled in a wave of mixed emotions. The chill in the air—the chill of my lips
last truly kissed by Sam.

Sam.

Guilt . . . guilt came with the vision of her eyes of blue holding
me once as Mo had held me tonight. My desires for Mo felt like a betrayal to
the only form of true love I had felt for someone whose blood didn’t flow in my
veins. I felt the all too knowing ache in my heart with thoughts of Sam. I
still loved her and feared I always would. But she had said good-bye. She was
the one who walked away, leaving me to question every single thing in my
life—in the future of my life. My head pounded with the pressure of it all.

“Let all of this go.” Mo’s voice rang out over the mottled
emotions that clogged my brain. I felt the gentle tap of her fingertip on my
forehead, a release of the pressure underneath. “That’s it. Now you’re free.”

I rolled over to bury my head into the empty pillow next to me. I
breathed in the scent of clean linen. This was my weekend of escape. I’m in a
distant world away from my daily struggles. This was my time.

Free to be. Free to let it go.

Different but the same.

Chapter 13

“GET UP, SLEEPY head. I need coffee,” Mo yelled from downstairs.
“If I don’t hear movement in two seconds flat, I’m coming up there and yanking
you out of bed. Your call.”

“I’m up. I’m up,” I called out in my unflattering first morning
voice.

“Then come on. Let’s go get coffee.”

I walked to the railing and leaned over to see Mo standing below
dressed in black yoga pants and a long sleeve loose-fitting white t-shirt.
“We’re going out for coffee?”

Her face was freshened as if she had rested much more peacefully
than I had the night before. Either the pull-out sofa was more comfortable than
the bed or she hadn’t been tormented by rambling thoughts. I predicted it was
the latter.

“Yes, we’re going out. So get a move on.”

“Isn’t there coffee here?”

She put her hand on her side. “Why, yes, smarty pants, but the
bakery down the block has blueberry scones. So unless you can whip one of those
up for me, I suggest you get your butt down here before I leave you.”

I held my hands up in submission. “Okay. Okay. I’m going.” I
stepped away from the railing and got a few steps out of sight before I heard
her shouting.

“Hey, you got any hiking boots or something like it?”

“I need hiking boots to go a block down the road for blueberry
scones? These must be some pretty darn special scones.”

“The best.” She laughed. “You better wear pants too. Jeans if you
got them. Coolish today.”

I walked down the stairs in jeans, a long sleeve pullover, and
tennis shoes. “Sorry, these will have to do.”

She smiled. “They’re perfect.”

I looked down at her feet clad in ankle-high old-style Vans with
no socks. “Okay. So why is it I have to wear jeans and tennis shoes as I have
no boots while you look mighty comfy in yoga pants and Vans?”

“That’s a very good question.”

“One I suppose you aren’t going to answer.”

Her smile beamed. “Not at the moment but
eventually. Let’s go.”

MO STRETCHED HER legs out to rest her crisscrossed feet on the
chair across from her. “So, what do you have planned today?”

“For the first time in a long time, absolutely nothing. I know you
said yesterday you were stopping over on your way to a gig. When are you set to
leave?”

She picked off a corner of her scone and plopped it into her
mouth. “This morning.”

I felt the sadness creep in. Hadn’t I hoped my plans for the day
had involved her? “Oh.”

“And again with your favorite word.”

“I’ll see if I can’t find another one between now and the next
time I see you.” I took a swallow of my coffee, wincing at its coolness.

“You could do that or you could just hold that thought and decide
to spend your energy on something more productive.” She bit off the other
corner of her scone. “Like spending the day with me.”

“But you said you were leaving this morning.”

“You asked when I was set to leave, which was this morning but
spending the day with you sounds so much better. You up for it?”

If I could have kept the silly grin from my face, I would have. I
felt like a school girl who had just been asked out to the homecoming dance.
Yet if I had masked it, I doubt I would have seen her matching one in return.

“Excellent. We need to make a detour first.” Mo cleaned the trash
from the table. She lifted my coffee cup. “I’m guessing you’re done with this.
You didn’t seem too thrilled with that last swallow.”

I followed her around the corner to a self-storage warehouse. She
was grinning the entire time. Not a smile but a grin. I felt it and joined her
happily. She stopped in front of a large garage door, pulled a key from her
front pocket, and bent down to unlock it.

The metal garage door creaked and shook as she raised it open. Two
black tires separated by two long chrome bars came into view as the door rolled
upon itself. The smile twitched at her face. When she flipped on the light, I
would have sworn we had been transported into the middle of a premiere
motorcycle shop. She flipped on the light and the hanging fluorescent lights
reflected off of the glossy black paint of the gas tank.

“Well . . . what do you think?” She walked to the motorcycle and
ran her hand along the sloping leather seat. “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s a two
thousand three Harley Davidson Night Train.”

I watched the light dance across the
brilliant black paint and let my mind wander back to a simpler day in my life.
The day my adult life was starting. On that night, I’d stared out into a
parking lot and watched overhead lights shine on my graduation present . . .
both of them. I shook the thought of Grant from my head.

Not now—not today.

“She definitely is. So, this is what you wanted to show me?” I
walked further into the self-storage transformed into a garage. A young teenage
boy’s garage. I pointed to the picture of a string-bikini-clad woman lazily
stretched across the seat of a larger style Harley. “Really?”

An impish smile replaced her grin. “Hey, I was young when I did
this place.”

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows.

“Okay . . . youngish. How’s that?”

“More truthful.”

“Give me just a sec and I’ll be ready.”

“For?”

She reached into the metal drawers I assumed was filled with tools
and pulled out jeans and a black t-shirt. “To go for a ride.”

I put my hands up. “Oh no. I’m not getting on that thing.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, for one . . . I’ve treated I don’t even know how many
people in the ER from a spill on one of those damn things. And for two . . .” I
shook my head. “Nah, one is pretty good enough reason on its own. So no
thanks.”

She closed the distance between us and stood close enough that I
felt the tickle of the clothing she held in her hand as it brushed against my
arm. “If I remember right, it’s you who drives a Jeep that hardly sees a top on
it. Or so you’ve told me.”

“That’s entirely different.” I felt the nervous strain of my
voice.

“Yes, it is. If you think you feel free riding in your Jeep, you
can’t imagine what riding on this will feel like. There’s nothing like it. I
promise.” She looked down at my chest. It rose and fell quickly. Her lip
twitched as she held me again with her eyes. “Besides . . . It’ll give me a
reason to have you hold me tightly in your arms.”

A reason. I swallowed hard and choked on the words I wanted to say.

I wanted to be suave. I wanted to have a comeback, something like,
“Do you use that line often?” or “Does that line usually work for
you?” But nothing came out. I cowered in my shyness to leave the words
spoken only in my head. Besides, didn’t I know the answer to both of those
questions anyway?

She held me in her stare a moment longer. “Now would you mind
rolling that door down so I can change clothes?”

“Here?” Geez did my voice just crack? Speaking of teenage
boys. I cleared my throat. “I mean. You’re changing here?”

She chuckled. “Ummm . . . yep, that was the idea.” She grabbed the
hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

Oh shit. I turned quickly to roll the door down. A loud boom
sounded as it slipped from my hand and slammed hard against the concrete.

“Safe to say the neighborhood is up.”

I didn’t turn around.

“You’re good for my ego, Rayne. I don’t know that I’ve ever
changed in front of a woman who chose to stare at a metal door instead of
looking at me.”

I don’t doubt that. Idiot. Yeah. Idiot sums it up nicely.

“You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

She sat on a black futon, as she laced up her leather boots.

“Do you stay here? I mean. The futon. Do you sleep here?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No. But I’ll come here sometimes
to escape the noise.”

“Noise?”

“Close your eyes and listen.”

I shut the vision of the room out and stood in the darkness of it.

“Do you hear anything?”

Nothing.

“With that door shut . . . in here just me and my bike . . . it’s
just me. It’s not Mo. It’s me. Sometimes I need to find her to not forget her.”

I opened my eyes quickly to see her watching me. I blinked to the
understanding of what she had shared—to the fact she had shared. She
seemed to notice too because she stood up, brushed the wrinkles from her jeans,
and tucked her t-shirt into the front of her waistband. She pulled her long
hair into a ponytail before walking toward me to reopen the door.

She turned her head to look at me as we were nearly face to face.
“There. You have a piece. A piece no one else has.” She gently shook her head.
“Not sure why you have it but there it is anyway.”

The blue streak in her hair was highlighted as she stepped out
into the sunlight. “Why don’t you stand out here while I wheel her out?” She
disappeared into the shadows of the garage and returned a few moments later
behind the brightness of the sun shining off of the chrome bars over the large
front wheel. Her smile was ear to ear as she pushed the black beauty out into
the ally between the buildings.

“When we get on, just follow my movements. If I lean, you lean.
The city will be miserable with the stink of exhaust from the cars but when we
get this baby out onto the Red Mountain Expressway, you’ll swear we’re flying.
Wait until I get her cranked and ready before you get on.” She bent down and
turned the key, turned a valve, and then pulled a knob. I hadn’t noticed them
before. The blackened chrome on this part of the bike kept them hidden. She
straightened again, straddled the bike, and freed the kickstand. She gripped
the bar with her left hand as she pushed a button on the right handlebar. The
engine roared and rumbled below her. Her body vibrated with the hum of the
engine. A few times she reached down to slowly push the knob back in. The
engine grew louder and louder as it warmed. I felt the excitement in my chest
as she twisted the throttle. The roar was exhilarating and brought about a grin
of anticipation. With my fear washing away, I was eager to climb on the seat
behind her.

She handed me a helmet after she pushed the knob fully in. “We’re
ready.” She extended her hand to me as her smile filled her face. “Let’s do
this.”

I grabbed her hand without an ounce of hesitation. The bike’s
balance shifted but quickly returned when she steadied the weight of us. I
realized I really didn’t know what to do from here. I sat against the back
rest, placed my feet on the bars off to the side of the bike but where did my
hands go? I didn’t see a grip or anything to hold onto.

“You’re going to have to sit a little closer if you want to stay
on,” Mo yelled over the engine.

I scooted on the seat to get closer to her. I tried to move easily
so as not to shift the balance of the bike again. Gently I let my hands rest
against the material at her sides. I dared not place pressure there for fear of
feeling the warmth of her skin burn through the clothing.

Idiot coward. Better summation.

Chapter 14

WE LEFT THE city behind us as we cruised along the Red Mountain
Expressway. The Ridge-and-Valley region of the Appalachian Mountains had always
been beautiful to me. Many days, I purposely drove down Twentieth Street past
the Vulcan Statue just to admire the beauty of its rust-stained rock seamed
with hematite iron ore. But those views couldn’t hold a candle to this. Nothing
like the ones unobstructed by a door frame or window. Out in the open with
nothing between us and the rock, I could fully appreciate the red sparkle of
the ore. I’m not sure what sparkled more—the ore or the green of the eyes I
caught in the reflection of the rearview mirrors. She seemed to be looking for
my reflection as many times as I sought hers. I would pretend to notice some
distraction in our scenery when my grip tightened against her side under the
intensity of her stare.

She pulled off the highway onto a small dirt road before turning
the bike off and motioning for me to dismount.

“There’s something I want to show you. We walk
from here.”

The sun filtered through the narrowed trunks of the forest to give
the road a striped appearance. Some of the smaller trees leaned into the hill
cut for the dirt path. Their tops joined those of the opposite side as they
stretched across the dirt to create a canopy above us. As we walked, the shade
cooled the gentle wind and chilled the moistened skin at my neck. We had left
most of the traffic behind us when we turned off of the main road so there was
little noise to pollute the nature around us.

“What are you smiling about?”

I blinked at her. She had stopped walking,
and gazed back at me.

“I guess this.” I held my arms out to my side and turned in a
circle. “All of this. The sounds . . . the smell . . . All of it.” I brought my
foot up and down to crunch the gravel under my feet. “This. I love the sound of
this. It reminds me of a place back home.” I took in a deep breath. “And that.
Do you smell that? It’s nature. It’s the dirt, the grass, and the trees. If
there was some water around, I’d be one happy girl.”

“If only.” She smiled. “So, you’re a big hiker?”

“No, not really. I wouldn’t say it was hiking that I am enjoying
so much. It’s being out here . . . being outdoors away from the city and its
congestion. I feel like sometimes I’m being suffocated. But here, out in the
open, my senses can feel alive,” I said as I bent down to pick up a handful of
dirt. I let it slowly slip from my relaxed grip to fall back onto the ground.
The finer granules floated in the breeze and came to fall further down the
path. I loved the way the leftover dirt stuck to the palm of my hand until I brushed
it off on my jeans. “Out here I can breathe again. It’s my oxygen.”

“It’s nice to see something besides sadness in those beautiful
green eyes of yours.”

The warmth previously at my neck jumped to my cheeks. I didn’t
know how to take her flirting. Generally, I found it to be playful banter and
considered it part of her personality. Out here, alone in the woods, I
questioned if her flirtations were real. If in fact, Mo of the lesbian deejay
world . . . all women want to be with Mo . . . was seriously flirting with me.
No, it was most likely a good friend who was trying to make me feel better by
being complimentary. That was more like it.

“But, yes, I know exactly what you mean.” She studied the rocks
beneath her feet for a moment and then bent over to pick up a light brown
stone.

“You do?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I wouldn’t have figured you would’ve felt
like that. You seem like a city kinda girl to me.”

She laughed and let the smile stay upon her lips. “I get you would
think that way. It’s the only venue you’ve seen me in.” She rolled the pebble
in her hands and started walking back down the path.

“It’s not just seeing you there, in that setting, it’s watching
you in the setting.” I quickened my pace to try to catch up to her. “It’s
watching how you effect the women around you. You take them to another world.
It’s a world you create for them. The music . . . the lights. It’s sort of
amazing really.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. I didn’t understand the
expression on her face. She wasn’t really smiling but she also didn’t seem
upset with what I had said. I felt my mouth go dry the longer she held her
words.

“What?” I asked.

She gave her head a single side nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said painfully aware I had great difficulty
reading her thoughts.

She stretched her hand out for me to take as she stepped up onto
the first step of a set of stairs made from flat rocks dug into the dirt hill.
“No truly . . . thank you for saying that.”

She wrapped her fingers around my hand the moment our skin
touched. The callouses of her palm scratched against my hand. Surely they had
been freshly roughened from the grips of the motorcycle ride.

“Here. I want to take you to a place over this hill.”

She led me up the crooked staircase, being careful to keep me
along her path to avoid stumbling on the rounded-rock border. She kept my hand
firmly within hers as we walked single file. Even in her strong grasp I slipped
on one of the rocks covered in a mossy mold. The shade above the staircase
provided a perfect environment for the slippery green coating.

She stopped to look back at me as I regained my footing.

“Sorry. I’m not one for grace.”

“I see that. Are you okay?”

I nodded.

She laughed. “It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know that before
you climbed on the back of my bike.”

She smiled playfully and leaned against a birch tree. The trunk
was split low to the ground so her body was hugged between the divisions of the
tree. The paper-like bark rolled out over her shoulder. This type of tree would
always be a mocking reminder of the night Grant proposed. The night I watched
the tears of my doing fall from Sam’s eyes. The pain of it threatened to
squeeze at my heart until I shook it forcefully from my head. I studied the
tree for what it would be for me today and not of what it was of old. Today it
would be shedding its old skin for the hopeful promise of new . . . just like
me.

“Anything else you wish to share before we keep walking?”

“What?”

“Anything else. Like for instance, what’s with the look you have
right at this moment.” She lifted her arm away from her side and pointed it at
my face.

“What look?”

“Um, the look that would be the result of whatever you just felt.
It washed over you like a cloak. So what were you thinking? What thought did
you have?”

“Do we have to talk about it?” I couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk
about it. I wanted to escape into Mo’s world she was creating for me. The past
pain didn’t belong here today. At least not right now it didn’t.

“Nope. No we don’t.” She started to head back up the hill but
turned before taking a full step. She wound her finger in the belt loop of my
jeans and gave them a pull. “But if you keep losing weight these things are
going to fall off of you and then we probably will have something to talk
about.” Her smile showed me her gloriously white teeth. “Or, well, in the very
least something to do.”

What was it with women causing a rush of blood to my cheeks?

I noticed the changing of the leaves as we climbed further up the
hill. Crimson and honey-colored leaves sprinkled the hillside of our hike. Our
footsteps were announced to the woods as we crunched on the already fallen
leaves. Over the sounds of leaves beneath our feet and the rustle of foliage
blown in the light breeze, I heard the stirrings of water—flowing water.

“If only.” Mo pushed through the thickened brush and pulled at the
vines to loosen them as she made a clearing for us. “We’re here.”

She set her back pack on the ground and took in a deep breath. She
turned quickly to look back at me and her foot slipped off the edge of the
embankment. She grabbed onto an oak sapling to steady herself.

The water’s edge was filled with tiny trees of all kinds. They
hovered close to the ground while the larger ones took up the sky. Their
brilliant green leafage formed an arbor for the running brook. Even in their
shade, I was thankful she had encouraged me to grab a couple of bottles of
water when we stopped for gas. I took a long swig of the warm water.

She dug in her backpack and pulled out a wad of material. “I warn
you. I’ve never had company in this thing before. It may be tricky.” She looked
up at me. “Especially since we have admitted to your lack of grace.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who slipped on the rocks a second ago.”

“Caught that, did ya?”

I smiled. “Yep.”

She wrapped a rope around two trees standing close to each other—a
purple hammock now suspended next to the brook. Some of the moss which had
grown over the rock bed was lifted free to flow in the gentle current.

She stretched the material out and shook her head. “Sure hope this
thing will fit two. We may have to snuggle in.” She cocked her head to the side
to look at me. “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

A deep breath filled my lungs as I studied the hammock and her
reaction to it. It was very narrow. There was no way we would manage without
the snug fit.

She played with the hammock a little more, getting in and out of
it to find the best position. She sat in it like a lounger with the material
riding high against her back and her legs hanging off of the side.

“I think this will work best. Come on in.” She patted the small
open space beside her.

The hammock dangled uneasily as I tried to sit without tipping us
both over. I found myself enjoying the sound of her laughter as we nearly
tumbled to the ground. Or in this case, water since the stream was almost below
us. She wasn’t Mo of the lesbian bar scene when she laughed like that. She was
just a woman being tickled. I liked it. I may even have liked it too much as it
made me happy the hammock kept me close to her body. I relaxed in the comfort
of my arm and side lying against hers. The babbling brook carried my stresses
away on its current. It let them wash over the rocks to become cleansed as they
fell and dispersed in the stream. Slender streaks of sunlight danced off the
rippling water. I felt the warmth of it on my ankle as my feet dangled.

“This is so beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mo inhaled deeply. “Sometimes I make time for
this layover just to come out here.”

“I needed this.”

“I thought you might.”

I bit my lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“This doesn’t add up to the Mo I’ve seen. I mean this place. You
coming out here. I don’t know. Out into nature. Wouldn’t seem like your place.”

“I do get you feel that way but can you elaborate why you do?”

I shrugged. “It isn’t exactly a night club filled with pounding
music. And you’ve essentially told me music is what feeds your soul. I’ve seen
the tattoos you wear. There’s no music out here.”

“Are you kidding me? There’s more music out here than anywhere
else. You don’t have to be in a smoke-filled strobe-lit bar to hear music.” She
twisted onto her shoulder to face me. “Close your eyes.”

“You’re always telling me to close my eyes.”

She laughed.

I like her laugh.

“It’s because you keep so much in that brain of yours I have to do
something to try to block it out. You see the world in front of you and build
up this protective shell. So yeah, I’m going to need you to close your eyes.
And besides . . . one day I may just surprise you when you do close them but
not right now.” She placed her fingertips lightly over my eyes. “So close your
eyes and listen.”

In the beginning, I heard only the silence in the absence of her
voice. Then the brook came into my ears with its lyrical cascade over the
rocks. I smiled into its chorus.

I flinched at the breath of her speech on my ear. “Yes, you hear
it.” Her voice was low, sultry. “Now listen closer to the scratching of the
squirrels’ claws on the trees as they play.”

Yes it was there. I heard the crinkling sound of the bark as it was loosened from
the strain of their claws as they scurried up its base.

“Listen to the harmony of the birds as they sing to one another.”
The warmth of her breath ran a tingle down my spine. “And the beat of that
woodpecker further off in the distance.”

I heard their serenade. It sounded like a song of whistled love to
the sky, to the water below them, to the earth giving them life and to the
beauty of the day. They sounded . . . happy.

“Now.” Her voice was closer. I feared the brush of her lip against
the lobe of my ear. Feared or desired? “Feel . . . listen to the
thumping base that’s getting louder.”

Thumping base. Yes, thumping base. Its rhythm was growing
faster—stronger between my ears. Another thumping base I felt against my
shoulder.

“Hear it? Feel it?” she asked in a whispered breath as her lip
touched my ear lobe.

I shook my head and was nearly dizzy with the wave of impulse the
desired touch of her lip against my ear caused.

“That’s us. That’s our song.”

I felt her body shift its weight further onto me. Her lips were a
feathered touch against mine. Soft. Too soft. I wanted more. I wanted to feel
the pressure of them wholly against mine. The sense of it all rapidly changed
my equilibrium to make me feel as though I had suddenly begun floating or
rather falling into the air . . . into her.

Son of a bitch that’s cold!

The water flowed over my back and onto my chest as we fell deep
into its current.

Her laughter was infectious as we both hollered in the sheer utter
chill of the water coating our bodies. We laid flat on our backs against a
muddy bottom, staring wide-eyed at the leaves above us. Apparently the playful
squirrels found humor in us as well because they moved their romp to the
branches over our heads. Their nails loosened tiny pieces of bark which floated
softly in the air before falling upon our chests. I felt as free as those chips
of wood as their fall was more of a slow drift along a curvaceous pattern in
the air instead of a direct, straight path to the earth. I felt free and . . .
very, very cold.

Mo stood from the water and extended her hand. “Come on. I also
know a sunny place.”

“Thank goodness.”

She took us back over the embankment to walk along a trail covered
in kudzu. Beyond the brush was a clearing made years before and an old rusted
structure nearly covered in the invading vegetation sat in the center of the
open land. Across from the building was a brick wall embedded in the dirt
levee. It was stained with multiple colors and was probably once a very
beautiful red color. In the present, its clay was a mixture of white, red, and
a moldy green.

“This spot should dry us out.” She sat down on the ground and
leaned her back against the brick wall.

The small trek up the hill had warmed my body some but it wasn’t
able to conquer the coldness of the wet clothing against my skin. I sat next to
her and tried to convince myself I kept little distance between our bodies as a
means of sharing heat. But I knew better. I wanted to be close to her.

Her eyes had grown from their usual bright green to an almost
hunter appearance. Maybe that was what sent us on our tumble to the water. I
had opened my eyes. The promise of her lips against mine was too much to take
without seeing the woman who was dangerously close to deepening an innocent
kiss. I’d felt the wave in my belly . . . felt the nervous anticipation I had
once felt long ago with Sam’s lips so close to mine. It felt good. It felt damn
good to feel alive again.

My weekend vacation had come to find me wishing to burst from the
shell that had encased me. Burst from its borders and tear down its walls to
feel a woman’s touch again. It was what I had begun to recognize . . . to
believe was the void I would not feel any other way. Yet this time it wasn’t
Sam’s touch I yearned for so much but rather the woman whose shoulder rested
against mine.

“I feel like that sometimes.”

Mo kept her headed braced against the wall. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes
were closed.

“That building over there. Half standing. Half falling apart. I
feel like that sometimes.” I breathed in deeply. “Most of the time actually.”

She fixed one eye onto the shack across from us. I followed her
gaze with my own. The kudzu vines had all but overtaken the structure—growing
up one side, over the porch, and onto the rusted tin roof. The right side of
the porch and roofing had given to the weight of the dense compounded leaves.
It sloped to that side with the wood planks lying low to the ground. Somehow
the noxious weed had spared the small clearing between our feet and the
building. Yet its coiling vine was virtually uncontrolled over the top of the
brick wall as it trailed like a blanket across our shoulders.

“How so?”

“Like I’m smothering. Like there’s this weight of everything
smothering the air from me . . . growing over me so fast that I can hardly take
in a breath. Life isn’t much different than those leaves. I mean, look at it.
Thick, velvety leaves like large clovers with these racemes of purple flowers
shooting up all over the place. It’s pretty right? Beautiful even. Just like
life. It can be beautiful, parts of it anyway. But in essence it can still
smother you. Shade you in the conformity of it all until you no longer grow . .
. until you wither and die. Not ever leaving its shadow.”

I didn’t dare look at her straight on but instead kept her in the
corner of my eye, waiting to see how she would respond. I was taken back at how
I had opened up to her to express something raw and previously hidden deep
within me. I couldn’t stand it if she made fun. She wasn’t this emotional
woman. She didn’t open up to express anything. Why? Oh, why did I say all of
that crap? What had I expected her to say?

She bit the corner of her lip, shut her eye, and raised her face
to the let the sunlight bask over it. She sat still for what seemed several
minutes. The rapid, raptor-like call of a woodpecker was almost deafening in
the silence between us.

“Meredith.” Her voice was soft. “Meredith Ohlen. That’s where Mo
comes from. It’s my initials. I shortened it after I saw the not so pretty side
of life. After I felt what you described.” She shifted and rolled her shoulders
as if trying to release the tension from them. “My father, the last of the
Ohlens, was killed in an offshore accident when I was sixteen. It was their
mistake. A work order had been removed when an inspection threatened to shut
them down for a few days. A loss of three days was too much money to lose. So,
they improvised.” She kept her eyelids closed but I saw creases form in the
corners as they tightened. “There were four men killed that day. The families
of the other men filed a lawsuit. It never went to court. Let’s just say it was
a hefty settlement. One that allowed me to pay off a not so up and up lawyer to
keep me out of the foster care system.”

“Foster care? What about your mom?”

“My mother.” She paused.

Her eyes remained shut. I heard her voice in my head when she told
me to close my eyes. When she told me to close my eyes and block out the sight
of the world so I could see the feelings within me. This must not only be what
she tells me to do but also what she herself must do.

“My mother wasn’t exactly what you would call a mom. The doctors
told my dad it was postpartum depression. I could give a flying fuck the
medical term they wanted to give it. She left shortly after I was born. He
tried to stay home and not work offshore but he could hardly pay the bills. So,
when I was about five he went back to drilling. I’d stay with whatever
girlfriend he was dating at the time while he was gone.”

“What about your grandparents or any other family members?” I was
anxiously trying not to sound shocked or give pity to my voice.

“My parents weren’t what you would call good children. They were
both wild, always in trouble and hard to handle. They split from their families
before either one of them graduated from high school. He grew up eventually and
got his GED. Apparently she never did. He used to tell me the only thing right
in this world she ever did was have me.”

The creases at her eyes tightened even more. She rolled the back
of her head across the brick wall.

“Anyway Mr. Shifty Lawyer Man set me up in another state where no
one knew me or my father. It wasn’t hard pulling it off for two years. I kept
my grades up, my nose down, and out of trouble. No one was the wiser.” She
opened her eyes to look at me. “I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen. At
eighteen I chose to live like the other side of that building. Free. Nothing
growing on me. Nothing weighing me down. Hence Mo. Short and sweet.”

I was dumfounded and held speechless as I reveled in what she had
shared with me. I found myself wanting to touch her . . . to hold her close to
me in comfort. Something told me she probably wouldn’t want to be held . . .
not right now anyway. I could sense she was rebuilding her strength and a
physical comfort would only hinder its progress. Yet beyond those last few
words, I knew little of her.

I heard a series of woeful, hooting calls in the distance above
the nature’s chatter. No doubt a mournful dove was perched beyond our reach.
Its song was sad as if yearning to feel something else . . . anything else. The
lyrics of it brought me to Sam—the times wasted with her. The underlining
sadness I had not been able to escape. The loss of appetite and recognition of beauty
in anything around me since she said her good-bye. The unspoken words I wish I
had shared. The touches I never felt because of my insecurity and questioning
of right versus wrong. The dove held them all in its song. But Mo sat there
with her head against the wall and her eyes closed, seemingly unfazed by the
lyrical call.

The touches I never felt.

I heard the tearing of roots being pulled from the soil I slid my
hand across the grass blades on its journey toward Mo’s. Once our fingers
touched, she immediately opened her palm to mine. I sat quietly letting our
fingers mold into each other’s.

Different and not the same.

“I’m not sure what to say,” I said softly. “I’m not sure if you
want me to say anything.”

“Yes, do that. Don’t say anything. It was over
ten years ago and not really something I want to talk about in detail. Not
right now anyway. Not with this.” I felt her hand squeeze my fingers tighter.
She turned her head and looked at me. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I let the sun wash over my face, felt its warmth and the
growing warmth of the palm held within mine. “Yes, it is.”

“I say we live in that. Live in that one and only fact of the here
and now.”

I returned her gaze. “What do you mean?”

She ticked her head to the side. “I mean live in the beauty of
today. You’re not that building over there and I’m not Meredith or Mo. We have
the rest of the weekend to be who we want to be with someone who pretty much
knows nothing of who we really are. You don’t have to be anybody but the Rayne
sitting next to me. No past. No future. Just now. Free to do what you feel
without wondering about the next day or week. Not having to wonder what it all
means. We take this time and ask nothing of each other beyond this weekend.
I’ll be me without labels or history or pain and you’ll be you in exactly the
same way.”

I let her words marinate within me. A weekend to be no one I had
previously been—to be no one I had designed my future to be. A time to be
exactly what I felt without excuse or explanations. A couple of days I could
spend not worrying about labels or the pain they may cause.

“A total brain shut down?”

“Yes a total brain shut down.” She smiled and used her other hand
to tap my forehead. “If you think it could even be possible with that brain of
yours.”

“I don’t know about that but I’m up for giving it a try.”

“Done.”

I reached over my shoulder to pluck a kudzu leaf from its vine.
“How exactly do we do this?”

“There aren’t rules or steps. We just do it.”

Rubbing the velvety leaf between my fingers, I thought of what she
was saying—two days of not being me. Not think of home, Charlie Grace, Grant,
or what the future holds of me. Not think of the one who still held me captive
with thoughts of her sun-kissed blonde hair as it fell over her blue eyes. I
thought of Mo’s hand within mine and felt a flush of guilt wash over my
stomach. Did I feel guilty for wanting her next to me or did I feel guilty for
letting Sam enter my thoughts?

“You know it’s okay.”

I looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever you thought of or whomever you thought of just now. It’s
okay. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. I won’t judge you or them.”

“What makes you think I thought of anything?”

“Come on. Give me some credit. Whatever you just thought about
puts so much sadness in your eyes. I’d have to be blind to not see it.”

She reached into the kudzu brush and dug out a small stalk of
purple flowers. She held it between her fingers. “We can talk about it if you
want. We can ignore what I just said about leaving it all behind us and you can
tell me about that sadness. Whichever one you want to do. I’m a pretty good
listener.”

I forced a smile.

Mo pulled her hand from mine and placed her fingertips over a
purple flower. “She wants to talk.” She pulled the flower from its stalk. “She
doesn’t want to talk.” She pulled another one. “She doesn’t want to go on an
escape with me.” And another one. “She wants to go on an escape with me.”

I put my hand over hers. “She does want to
take an escape with you.”

She smiled with a girlish expression. She tossed the stalk over
her shoulder. “Excellent.” She rubbed the material of her shirt between her
fingers. “I still need to dry. How about you?”

“Definitely. Plus . . .” I returned to relax my back against the
wall. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

She slid her hand underneath mine to intertwine our fingers again.
“Perfect. It’s a gorgeous day.”

Her bass clef tattoo caught my attention. I followed the trail of
musical notes around the wrist of her arm with my fingertip. “Tell me about
music and what it means to you.”

She moved her finger in slow circles around my held fingertip.
“It’s everything to me really. It’s what feeds my soul . . . makes me feel
alive. I can find a lyric or beat to match any mood I’m in. I can let it get me
out of that mood or intensify it for me. What is the one thing you can turn to
whatever mood you’re in and it’s better?”

I thought for a moment. “I actually had this conversation with
Jazlyn. She told me to find my thing. That go to I searched for no matter my
mood.”

She laughed. “Hers is architecture. That girl
loves her some buildings.”

“She totally does.”

“And have you found it. Your thing?”

“Yeah, I have. Think I always knew it was water, but it clicked
with Jazlyn talking to me about finding it and then going to the beach. Sailing
on the water with my hands trailing along the sides of the boat. It was crystal
then. It’s water. My thing is water.”

She smiled. “I can see that in you. Now why? What does it do for
you?”

“It does like you said. I hear it. Like you hear music. I hear
water. I can hear it washing against the wood of a dock, or the side of a boat
or hear waves crashing against a shore and I feel calm. I can let my fingers
dip into it and feel peace. I can watch it as it ripples and not have a worried
thought in my mind. It makes me happy.”

“And there is your rhythm. There is your music.”

I FLOATED ALONG the stream, and listened to the flow of the
current as it cascaded off of the rock into the deeper pool below me. My
fingers twirled in the water as they rested off the sides of the float. The sun
filtered through the covering of the tree limbs and warmed my cheeks. I was at
peace and happy as I stared into the sky above me. I watched a leaf carried
among the wind’s breeze. It fell to and fro along the wind until it came to
tickle my lips. I brushed at it but the tickle continued. A giggle arose from
my lips and seemed to be joined by another’s voice. I opened my eyes to see Mo
holding a blade of grass inches from my lips. She was laughing.

“Hey sleepy head. I think we’re dried out now.”

Sleepy head? Wait. What?

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Oh yeah. You were out like a light.”

I was mortified. “I’m so sorry. I can’t
believe I fell asleep on you.”

“Why?”

“That’s so rude.”

“Please. You fell asleep. It’s no biggie.” She shrugged. “Now, the
drool on my shoulder is something entirely different.”

“What?”

“I’m joking.” She touched her fingertip to the bridge of my nose.
“Although I think you got a bit too much sun and that I’m not joking
about.” She stood and extended her hand. “I guess it’s time to head out.”

The walk back to her bike was quiet but not in an uncomfortable
silence sort of way. I was relaxed with her. I didn’t worry about having to
watch my expressions or my words. I had no worries of hurting her feelings or
saying the wrong thing. I simply followed her footsteps along the path, took
her hand when she offered it, and a few times when she didn’t. It was us. Two
women enjoying a hike in the woods. The closest I felt to being completely free
since floating on the bayou with Meems. No excuses. No explanations. I felt
entirely comfortable to do anything I wanted without reservation.

The ride back was smoother without the tension in my body. I sat
against her and let my legs cradle her . . . hold her. Little to no distance
was left between us. She had given me one end of an earplug with the other kept
for herself. The music of her iPod filled our ears simultaneously. Trees flew
past us in streams of green mixed with gold and red as the motorcycle cruised
along the expressway. The road noise was only heard when there was a break in
the music between songs. Strong piano keys followed by a deep seductive voice
quickly drowned out the world around me. Her voice drew me in with the strength
of the emotion in her lyrics. She sang of a time lost between soulful looks in
the mirror. In that time the lines of her face had become clearer, aging her
into a new woman. Her voice was pained, strained with the desire of
re-introducing herself to a world that would judge and turn their heads to her.
She knew they would chew her up and spit her out with the hint of who she
really was.

Mo’s back fell deeper into me, and I felt the full weight of her
against my chest. I studied the small hairs of her neck as they glistened from
the sweat beading on her skin. That voice. The voice of the singer
filled my ears. Her lyrics pulled at my heart. Pulled at the wall encasing it.
She sang of the desire to let her finger rove along a map of her lover’s skin.
I stared at the colored skin in front of me. I too bore the same desire,
tracing the lines of the quarter moon and stars. My heart began to race with
the warmth of Mo’s dampened skin.

Nothing else.

Piano keys and a voice calling out every feeling I was having with
her body within mine.

No road. No paths. Just me. Just her.

Just the words of knowing the taste of her skin. The saltiness I
found there as my lips first touched her neck. The taste of the colored quarter
moon at the base of her neck. I felt the deep intake of air as her back fell
and rose sharply against me. She released one handlebar to cup my hand within
hers and wrap it around her waist. The story of her bones—the story of her was
one I wanted to know. And her music had taken me there. I was a part of her
thing.

Chapter 15

“SO, I KNOW this great little Indian place. It’s a hole in the
wall but really good.” Mo stripped her boots off and laid them beside the door
as we entered Jazlyn and Violet’s loft. “We can walk from here if you want?”

“Only if you order. I’m not up on Indian
food.” I set my shoes next to hers, thinking there was no way I was ever
getting the soiled coloring out of them after our dip in the muddy stream. Muddy
stream. “But first I’ve got to shower some of this off of me.” My once soft
t-shirt made a crinkling sound as I pulled the material away from my chest. “A
pleasant dinner date I will not make.”

She laughed. “Okay, but I’m next.” She walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll grab us a beer. Or would you rather a glass of wine?”

“Are you kidding me?” I stepped onto the first stair leading to
the upstairs bedroom. “I spent the day riding bitch on the back of a Harley.
It’s a beer for me.”

She laughed. “Well, alright then.”

Ruffled bed sheets reminded me of Mo’s morning interruption as she
rushed me out of the apartment before I had time to straighten the covers. Did
the bed not bring thought to the way I had felt with Mo throughout the day? The
design created an optical illusion of floating a foot off of the floor. There
was a small headboard but no foot board or sides. Several times I had started
to look under the floating mattress but stopped myself before discovering its
secret. It was better to live in the fantasy of the weekend and not know the reality
of its design.

The walls surrounding the bed were plain white sheetrock,
excluding the right one, which was a tinted glass. I had studied the glass the
night before. The chrome of the dual shower heads had reflected in the track
lighting which shined from the exposed wooden beam. It was a gorgeous room in
the simplicity of its arrangement. The only color was a single purple flower in
a clear glass vase. It sat atop a bedside nightstand. I wondered the
sentimental meaning of it shared by the two women who slept next to its petals.
I wondered if my happiness of lying next to the person I loved was merely an
illusion as that which was held in the bed’s frame.

Droplets of warm water rained from the shower
head onto the tense muscles of my shoulders. I smiled with the sensation of
soap suds lifting away the remnants of the creek’s muddy bottom. Mo’s laughter
had lifted me above the worries that were tucked hidden in the baggage I
carried on my vacation away from my world. So much of her seemed to lift me up.
She reminded me of another carefree spirit who had briefly shown me a different
way of life.

Different but the same.

I lifted my head to the water and closed my eyes, hoping the spray
would wash away the twinge of pain I felt in my heart with the fleeting vision
of Sam. I wanted to stop hurting. I was so tired of hurting—feeling guilt for
each and every action I had taken for myself. I wanted to feel something other
than pain and numbness. I want to be more like her . . . more like . . .
The light in the shower dimmed as a shadow passed in front of the bedroom
fixtures.

Mo.

She stood outside the glass. The tint obscured her features but I
had no doubts her stare was on me. She raised one palm flat against the glass.
A single palm of invitation. Neither shame nor embarrassment crept into me. No,
that wasn’t what I felt with her eyes upon the nudity of my body . . . upon the
nudity of my soul.  I didn’t try to cover myself. I stood there—still. Waiting
for her to tell me what step was next. Waiting for her instruction of what she
wanted us to be, if only for this night . . . if only for this weekend of
living in a non-existent world. When she disappeared I knew my answer.

I felt the skip in my heart when her silhouette appeared around
the shower door. The tinted glass gave an obscured light to show her body to
me. The water splattered against her exposed skin as she moved into its stream.
I turned to look at the illusion of the bed—the illusion of another world
without questions needing answers, without futures needing plans in place. I
saw only the illusion of this moment . . . of this time so close to Mo.

Running from a woman’s touch once before had left me scarred and
yearning for that which I had not allowed myself to feel. I wouldn’t run again.
It wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t the woman I loved who I felt standing closely behind
me. It wasn’t Sam’s finger that softly traced a trail down my spine. Yet she
was a woman who held a comfort in her I had grown to crave. A woman who looked
at me without judgement, without questioning or inquisitions of answers I
wasn’t ready to give. She took me as I was . . . who I felt I was, even if that
was an enormous ball of the unresolved.

“I’ll go if you want,” she said.

My knees weakened with her palm across the small of my back and I
had problems staying upright.

“You didn’t ask me to be here. This may not be what you want.” She
removed her hand.

I felt the absence of it immediately and reached behind me to grab
for its touch again. Even in the heat of the shower the glass felt cool against
my forehead, so much cooler than the warmth shared of our hands.

“It is.” Those two words were all I could voice. Though my body
screamed more. My body screamed to tell her . . . to beg her to take me into
her arms and show me passion it had never felt before. Yet only the two simple
words were all I could voice. I hoped it would be enough.

The frailty of the strength in my knees grew as I felt her breasts
press against my back. I tried to grab hold of the glass yet my hand slid
against the wall.

She traced her fingertips across my back,
along the back of my arm toward my hand, and interlaced her fingers within
mine.

“It’s a need, Rayne. I’ve wanted you but now . . . after today,”
she said softly against my ear, “it’s a need. I need to feel you against me.”

I let my head fall back onto her shoulder. It’s
a need, not a want . . . a need.

She gently tugged at my hand to turn me away from the glass. I
watched her eyes hold me. They caressed every curve of me in a way that I
didn’t feel naked or raw in front of her. I felt like a woman being held, not
nude, not shy, not anything other than held in her eyes. She placed her hands
against the sides of my neck before letting them roam down along my
collarbones. She held my eyes as one of her fingers read my skin like braille.
Was she reading everything my voice could not say? Was she reading the thoughts
I held for myself? The slow trace of her fingertip awakened a tortuous need.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said as she brought my hand up to
flatten it across her chest slightly below her neck.

She stepped back under the water spray, closed her eyes and tipped
her head back to let the water wash over her. I lifted my hand from her chest
as she weaved her fingers into her hair. She didn’t open her eyes but removed
one of her hands and put my hand back where it had been. The water and shampoo
streamed over her and onto my hand and arm. It was my private time to watch
her. My chance to see her without the scrutiny of her stare. My opportunity to
study a woman’s body not under blinding hospital lights, not under the eyes of
a doctor’s study but under my eyes. The eyes of a woman exploring a
craving she had not yet allowed herself to feed.

I watched the soap run off of her long hair and over her shoulder,
covering the inked musical notes and birds on her left collarbone. Softly I
traced the lettering with my finger. “When the pain penetrates the music
resonates.” I felt the music that was Mo as she allowed me to take her in.
The soap coursed down her body—across her breasts, down her stomach where
another musical design was found to the inside of her right hip. The water slid
across her lower belly, down her legs, and settled at the top of her feet.

She stepped closer to me and I looked up. I watched her cover her
body with lather. She brought the palm of my hand against her lips. I bit the
inside of my cheek as I felt her kiss against it. With her hand holding the
back of mine, she led me . . . led me to read the braille of her story. My
heart beat wildly against my chest as she brought my fingertips to trail down
her neck and over the inked expression she carried with her. Her eyes held me
intently as we ventured together over her breast. I studied its perfection. I
marveled at the response it held against my skin as my hand flexed to hold it.
I heard the moan escape her voice and found her to be lost behind closed
eyelids. I watched her lips twitch and quiver as I felt the softness of her.
She inhaled sharply, lightly shaking her head before holding me in emerald
again. In her eyes—with her body so exposed and open to me, I wasn’t afraid. I
wasn’t nervous. There weren’t any worries or judgements of meaning.

Just her. Just me. Our little world for the weekend with nothing
else outside of these walls.

She grabbed our towels, handed me one and took my hand as she led
us out of the bathroom. The shaking in my knees intensified as the bed’s
illusion lay in front of us. I steadied myself by leaning against one of the
wooden beams that stretched from floor to ceiling. Mo stopped and turned to me.
She held our joined hands in front of her. She studied them as she released her
grip to let our fingers trace up and down
each other. Lips upon my neck brought a scurry of twinkling lights behind my
eyelids. I gave myself to her, letting my neck roll into her kisses. My breath
quickened against her thumb as she traced my bottom lip. Slowly the beam
disappeared against my back. I could no longer feel the wooden pressure of it
supporting me. I felt only her. I felt only her lips against my neck until they
took my kiss from her thumb’s touch. Her kiss was a thief to my equilibrium.
Tenderly her tongue found mine and swept me away in the music of their dance. I
was dizzy in her arms and pulled her closer before I fell completely—fell
completely into her. The towel tickled my ankles as it loosened in our
embrace.

Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

My body screamed words it had only dared to say once before. I was
hers completely as she lowered me to the bed and stretched out beside me. She
brought my lips back to hers with a single finger under my chin. She hadn’t
been a woman of words. She hadn’t been a woman who overly expressed her
thoughts in words but in her kiss. In her kiss, I felt all she wanted to say.
Her words were slow, soft as they mixed with those of my own. I felt the
softness of her tongue everywhere. I felt it tracing my lips and slide against
the side of my own. It coursed through my body to the small of my back and much
deeper . . . lower in my abdomen. I was lightheaded in her kiss and became
nearly faint as her hands traveled across my chest and breasts. I knew the
sensations that had earlier elicited the sharp inhale of her breath. I knew
what I had caused her to feel in the shower as my breath matched hers with the
squeeze of her hand, with the touch of her tracing my breast. She watched me as
I had watched her. She focused on my lips and held me there as I felt her hand
travel over the ridges of my ribs. I felt my muscles tighten as her hand moved
further down my side.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

I felt the skip in her pattern and a tingle soar through me as her
hand found my thigh. I bit the corner of my lip but gave her a resounding yes
with the motion of my head on the pillow.

She brought her lips again to mine. The intensity of her kiss had
grown to take me away into every part of her . . . every part of this as her
hand found me. In that moment, she was my bayou. She was a slow ripple against
a dock. A ripple that grew stronger with the motions of her hand as it brought
my body to move to her will. My hips reached for her. My hands gripped what
they could—one in her hair at the base of her neck, the other held only a
crumble of cotton sheet. Her fingers took my breath as they filled me full of
her touch.

Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

My back arched and the back of my head searched the pillow to
understand the feelings she was causing in me. The way I felt nothing yet
everything with her inside of me. She was my ocean. She was a race of building
waves as they beat against my shore. I felt them crashing over me to take every
single doubt of who I was out into the endless sea. I opened my eyes to reach
for her and let the desire I found there hold me to completion. I let myself go
in her touch. Let myself wash away onto her shore as I screamed against her
neck. A moan that rose from inside and released for the first time under
someone else’s control. She had given me my peace . . . my water.

The night kept the room darkened with all but a sliver of
moonlight reflecting off of the glass shower. A twinge of guilt threatened my
deepest thoughts. A guilt of infidelity as another woman had given me a
pleasure my body had never known. I had found a release in her arms that I
didn’t know existed for me. It wasn’t a guilt of cheating on Grant. No, it was
Sam that filled my thoughts. I’d cheated on Sam . . . my love for her. It should
have been under the touch of her hands to give me this night. She moved on.
That was what I reminded myself. She had moved on and most surely had already
found pleasure in the arms of another. After all, sex was sex to her. Right?
I swallowed the guilt of my betrayal and yet again told my heart to tell her
goodbye.

I reached down and pulled Mo’s hand up to my chest. I cradled it
in my arms for all it had given me. Her slumbering breath filled my ears as she
slept soundly pressed against my back. I kissed her fingertips as I held onto
the memory of the night in her arms. I felt her squirm as she molded her body
closer to me and tucked her legs behind mine.

She let out a soft moan in my ear. “It’s not time to get up yet.”
She kissed the lobe of my ear. “Sleep.” She tightened her arms briefly as if
hugging me into her. “I’ve got you.”

She’s got me. The cotton pillowcase indented against the force of the smile
that tugged at my lips.

Chapter 16

“GET UP, SLEEPY head.” Mo shook my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go up
to the rooftop and drink coffee.”

I peeked through one open eyelid. “It’s still dark out.”

“Yeah, but not because it’s early. There’s a little rain shower
coming in and it’s super cloudy.”

“But the bed is so nice and cozy.” I tried to pull her on top of
me but she firmly stood next to the bed. “I want to lie next to you some
more.”

“Then get up and let’s go.”

I twirled my finger around the material of her boxer shorts. “Yes,
but in here you won’t need these.”

“I won’t need them up there either.”

I sat up to let my legs hang off the side of the bed and pulled
her body into me. I lifted up her shirt. “But in here, I can do this,” I
mumbled against the skin of her lower belly.

She ran her fingers through my hair, encouraging the contact. “You
can do that up there too.” She knelt down in front of me and took my
breath with her kiss. “Trust me.” Her words tickled the lips burning for her
return. “I want to show you this.”

She stood up, held her hands out for me to take them, and pulled
me up off of the bed. The morning air was cold against my bare legs as we
stepped out onto the fire escape.

“Oh yeah, this is very private.” I pulled at
the bottom of my shirt tail, trying to cover the skimpy pajama shorts I was
wearing.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” She stepped onto the staircase, reached
behind her back for my hand, and led me up toward the rooftop.

“I never knew this was up here,” I said, climbing the small steps
that led over the brick wall surrounding the rooftop.

“Jaz had it renovated a few years ago. We sneak up here at least
once when I come over.”

The décor of the home extension carried the same flow as that
downstairs—clear glass, walnut-colored wood, and dark metal.

Mo walked to the kitchen area and poured two cups of coffee.
“Black right?”

“Uh, yeah. Black.” I gave the enlarged swing a push. “This thing
is pretty awesome.”

“See. I told you.” She ran her hand along the thick pillows that
were propped against the wooden backboard. “I’ve slept many nights up here.”

“I can see why. It’s more like a bed than a swing.” The oversized
swing reminded me of the porch swings I loved to sit on back home except the
bench on this one was wider and longer than the ones I was used to.

“Totally. Jaz had hell when she was first thinking of making it. She
was scared it wouldn’t be stable enough but it’s not too bad.” She walked
around the swing to open the three sliding glass doors. A breeze poured through
them and brought with it the smell of an impending rain.

“Climb in and I’ll hand you your coffee.” She steadied the thick
metal chain with her hand as I climbed onto the swing. There were four total .
. . one connecting each corner of the bed to the ceiling.

“The breeze feels so nice.” I leaned against
the tall backboard and stretched my legs out in front of me. The bench was long
enough that my feet didn’t come near touching the end of the cushion.

“See I told you.” She shook her head. “When are you ever going to
start trusting me?”

“Oh, I trust you alright.”

“Is that so?” She climbed in next to me.

“That is so.” I kissed her lips as she brought them closer to me.

“Maybe we’ll test that theory one day.” She winked at me as she
took a sip of her coffee.

We settled our backs against the softness of the pillows. She
swept her leg over mine and we stared out into the sky as we quietly drank our
coffee. The width of the swing did afford her room to not have to sit so close
to me but I was surely happy she had chosen not to use the extra space. I was
enjoying the feeling of her body nestled up against mine.

Clouds swollen and grayed with the threatening rain, hovered right
above the skyline. Slowly they moved closer to us, kicking up the breeze to
blow Mo’s hair across her face. She tucked the freed strands back behind her
ear.  A distant thunder rumbled in the quiet.

A smile twitched at her lips. “I love weather like this.”

I felt a heat rush my neck as I pictured her head lying against
the pillow with the same type of smile playing at her lips. Last night I had
pushed the thought of her sharing her body with the many women I knew had seen
her beauty before me. I pretended my touch was the first she had felt.
Otherwise, I doubt I would have been able to overcome the hesitation in my
timid, inexperienced hands as they explored her. She had lain in front of me,
welcoming anything I wanted to give her.

She brought her cup back to her lips. I studied the tattoo on her
wrist. The night before, the pulse underneath the ink had quickened when I
traced it with my tongue. A kiss had not proven to be enough. Her lips parted
to take in the sip. A slow vision of my lips on her wrist, kissing the musical
note found there drifted over me. I had seen them part then as well even though
her eyes had begged me not to look away. Raindrops tapped on the roof as I
remembered the pulse of her neck against my lips. The beat built under the
sweep of my tongue. Rolling thunder broke through the patter of rain as her
moans had broken through the depths of her breaths. The wind grew and brushed
the scent of her hair across my nose. The scent I had inhaled as her body moved
against me under the light sheet. She brushed the fallen strands again behind
her ear but my mind took me to the night before when her hand was swiftly
brought into the side of her hair as she lifted her body into me. A flash of
lightning buried deep in the clouds gave light to the sky and my daydream of
the desire in her eyes as she tightened the grip of her hand in her hair. I had
been entranced with her every response to me as I made love to her. I watched
her teeth as they bit into her bottom lip. My body molded into hers as her back
arched into me.

The raindrops beat faster and trickled down the glass. I felt her
in my hands again. The way I knew who I truly was from the moment I was inside
of her. Thunder rose. Her body had risen into me . . . had rolled into my life.
An impending storm that would not be denied. Lightning flashed. As dark as the
room was the night before, it didn’t have enough strength to keep the light
from me when Mo gave herself to me. Her release within my touch unshackled my
darkness. Lightning flashed. The darkness forever changed by the feel of our
bodies held tightly in the night.

“What are you thinking about?”

I took the cup from her hands, set mine beside hers next to the
bed, and tucked my finger under the collar of her shirt as I pulled her toward
me.

“This,” I whispered against her lips. I took her in my arms and
relived the awakening of my own storm the night before as the rain pattered
against the roof. The swing flowed in the breeze of us.

Chapter 17

“SO . . . WHAT’S NEXT? I mean, I’ve never done this before.”

“This?” Mo looked up over her menu. “Generally, you look at the
menu and pick out something that looks good to you.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” I leaned across the table to
whisper. “A one night stand.”

She met me as she leaned forward too. “A one night stand?” she
whispered with a smile, more like an almost laugh at my hushed tone. “By my
count it was one night, one morning, and one very long afternoon.”

Somehow I foolishly thought maybe my ability to blush would be
lessened after the night she and I had experienced. I was wrong. I felt it take
over my cheeks. Carefully I leaned back away from her before she noticed.
Although the small padded stools we sat on didn’t give much leeway in leaning
back too far. At least they were only a couple of feet off of the floor so it
wouldn’t be a high fall.

“You are so adorable.” She poured us a glass of white wine from
the bottle she had ordered for our dinner. “Here sip on this. It’ll calm some
of those nerves you seem to have found now that you’ve got clothes on.”

The blush returned full fold and Mo laughed. Reflexively, I
glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation or noticing
two women who had spent the last day wrapped passionately in one another’s
arms.

What the hell did it matter anyway?

I became angry with myself . . . with the inbred fear of wondering
what those around me thought of my actions—even if they were complete strangers
to me.

She held her glass up. “To our weekend of new experiences.” She
clinked it against mine. “For both of us.”

The taste of the Riesling caught me off guard. It wasn’t as sweet
as I remembered and I was quite sure I flinched or made a face as I swallowed
it.

Mo chuckled. “What? You don’t like it?”

“No. It isn’t that. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought this wine was
sweeter than this.”

“Not all Rieslings are sweet.”

I brought the glass up to my nose. There was a weird scent of
petrol. “It sort of smells like diesel fuel. Maybe it’s bad . . . like spoiled
or something?”

Mo laughed sort of loudly. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed.
You’re just so damn cute. I remember what it was like when Jaz and I first
started drinking wine. Let’s try it again and if you don’t like it we’ll order
another bottle or a beer. Deal?”

“Deal.” Although I would have agreed to anything at that moment.
She could have said, “Hey, let’s go rob a bank after dinner,” and I most likely
would have shaken my head in agreement. She was absolutely stunning. The
restaurant’s backdrop brought out the green of her eyes brilliantly. They
nearly sparkled as she looked at me.

Her expression turned serious. Perhaps she read something in mine
as I watched her. She slowly brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her
thumbnail. She took in a deep breath.

“Has anyone ever told you how dangerous those eyes of yours are?”
she asked around the thumb resting against her bottom lip.

I couldn’t speak so I simply shook my head.

“Well, they are. I swear I can read them sometimes. I can tell
what it is you’re thinking.” She looked around the restaurant before fixating
on the stone pillar at the end of our table. “If this had given us four walls
instead of this one column, I fear I would have to take you right here . . .
right now. No wonder we haven’t eaten. All I want to do is take you back to
bed.”

Butterflies swarmed my belly and refused to let go. “We could get
it to go.” My voice was shaky and soft.

“Or we could eat the fabulous
meal I’ve ordered. Finish off a bottle of wine. All the while your eyes will
continue to drive me crazy so that the moment we step into Jaz’s apartment all
I will be able to do is rip your clothes off and ravage you until the sun comes
up.”

“Or, yes . . . there’s that option.” Did I say my voice was
shaky before?

Mo shifted on the stool. “Now let’s see what we can do with this
wine.” She brought her glass up to her nose and inhaled. “Try to smell past the
diesel fuel. What do you smell beyond that?”

I brought the glass to my nose and breathed in its scent. I
blocked the thought of petrol from my senses and inhaled deeper. “Hmmmm . . .
citrus? Sort of smells like citrus.” I smelled the wine again. “Oh and honey. I
smell honey.”

A smile spread across her face. “Perfect. Okay so this time after
you breathe in to get the aroma past the noxious, I want you to take a sip.
Swish it in your mouth until you can no longer detect the smell and then
swallow.”

I did as she had asked.

She followed my movements. “Now, what do you taste?”

“Mostly pineapple but with a hint of lime and apricot.”

“Perfect.” She smiled even broader. “That is why it’s such a good
choice with Indian food. It’s an interaction you go for. The wine must
complement the food, not take away from it. This wine doesn’t take away from
the complexities of spices in the food.” She stopped and leaned back away from
the table. “What? What’s that look for?”

What look? Damn, do my eyes really give me away? “I don’t know . . .
it’s just sometimes you surprise me with things you say.”

“Like what? Why?”

“Well, you’re a Harley-riding, leather-wearing deejay who just
taught me how to appreciate the combination of wine and food pairings. Doesn’t
actually add up, you know?”

“Don’t we all have layers, Rayne? Don’t we all have sides to
ourselves that we don’t share with everyone? Sides we only share with a few?”

I thought of the past day in her arms. I thought of Sam. She was
the first outside of Meems that I had shown myself to. Yet hadn’t I hidden some
from her as well. Wasn’t it true, I felt I couldn’t share everything with her?
I didn’t share my insecurities of what being a lesbian would mean for fear I
would hurt her or push her away. I didn’t share my fears of what a life with
her would do to my future. Well, I didn’t until the end—until the night I tried
to see her through the tears blinding my eyes. The night I broke as I watched
the mascara smear down her face. And then there was Meems. Hadn’t I hidden from
her too? The one woman I felt loved me above and beyond every single wrong or
right I could have ever done. Yet, I hid even from her.

The waiter brought our food to the table and broke my memories
before the pain crept in. I finally noticed the colors surrounding me. My focus
on Mo had prevented me from appreciating the pop of red in the restaurant’s
light fixtures, cloth table coverings, and wall decorations. Other than those
key elements, the majority of the setting was made up of different tones of
brown from the light beige of the stone walls to the rich dark chocolate in the
molding and decorative clay pottery.

“I know we said we wouldn’t, but do you want to talk about her?”
Mo picked up my plate and filled it with the chickpea dish the waiter had set
down alongside the tandoori chicken. The smell of curry took over my senses as
she spooned the chickpeas onto my plate.

“Which her?”

Mo raised her head up and gazed at me. “There’s more than one her?
And that’s why you don’t assume. Sorry, I always thought there was only one.”

“There was only one like you’re thinking.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What you see . . . what you see sometimes when you look at me.
The sadness? It’s because of two women in my life. My grandmother and Sam.”

“Aw, I get it now.” She reached into the basket on the far side of
the table. “Here try this with it. It’s called naan, a type of bread.” She
handed me the round brown-spotted white bread. “Do you want to talk about them?”

“Is that what you want?”

“To get to know you better? Yes, that’s what I want if you’ll let
me in. But you have to eat while you talk because we have not had food since
yesterday.” She pointed her fork at my plate before taking a bite herself.

I felt the heat again rush to my cheeks with the flashback of
pulling Mo’s body against mine as tight as I could. I hadn’t seemed to be able
to pull her close enough to me. A part of me already feared the next day—the
day we would say goodbye. Oh, I knew I would see her again but in what capacity
I had no idea.

Yet tonight I did have her. Here was this gorgeous creature sitting
across from me, sharing an experience of a new food, and wishing to know more
about me. A woman whose attention was desired by so many lesbians and here she
was with me. Smiling at me. Wanting to know me—all of me, not just the parts I
picked out so they don’t cause distance between us, but actually all of me. It
was a freedom I didn’t have with Sam. No matter what I told Mo, she wouldn’t
change the way she felt about me . . . about what she wanted from me. She
didn’t want the whole pie like Sam did. She didn’t want the sunset. She wanted
the moment.

“The first part of eating is to actually pick up a utensil.”

I blinked several times and looked down at
the plate she had put in front of me. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered away for a
minute.”

“Yeah, I see that. I think my head is going to spin right off of
me if you ever start taking me on the journeys in your mind. Damn, girl, does
that brain of yours ever stop?”

“Not too often, no.”

“We’re going to have to see what we can do to slow it down one
day.” She motioned her fork at me before taking a bite of food. “It’s a little
spicy but I think a Cajun girl like you can take it.” She winked as she took a
healthy swallow of the white wine.

I grinned, amused. “Let’s see what you call spicy.” The curry and
cayenne seasoning of the chickpeas warmed my tongue but didn’t send the
sometimes searing hurried need for cooling after I tasted foods back home.
Nonetheless, I took a swallow of the wine Mo had selected to pair with dinner.
She had done well. “You’re right. The wine does complement the spices of the
food. It’s like it enhances it.”

Her smile was wide as she popped a piece of naan into her mouth.
“Thank you. It’s much like the company sitting across from me.”

I let the matching smile reach my heart and calm my nerves of
opening up to her—of remembering. “I would say there are two women who’ve
changed my life. One I’ve always known and one I knew for only a short while.
Both of them are gone now.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. Memaw passed away last November.”

She covered my hand with her own. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t flinch away from her touch even with all eyes to see. In
fact, I rolled my hand over and basked in the comfort of her touch.

“Thank you.” I squeezed her hand, letting her know I liked it
within mine, especially as I continued to talk. “I’d never really considered
life without her. It wasn’t factored into my plans. For as long as I can
remember, I was going to go to medical school and go back home to live. She and
I were going to set up my practice. I’d spend my days working and my weekends
with her. I’d finally do what I wanted to do, living under my own roof. Not
having to answer to Charlie Grace. But now . . . now she’s gone and I feel
utterly lost.”

“Charlie Grace?”

“My mother.”

“Aw . . . you call her by her first name?”

“It’s become a habit. One I have to watch when I’m around her.
She’s another story all together.”

“Sounds like. And do you still want to go back home?”

I took in a deep breath to let her question filter in. I tucked my
bangs behind my ear but they fell back over my eye. “I do. I truly do. It’s my
home. The people there. The culture—it’s the bond I still have with her I
suppose.” I took a sip of wine to let the hint of pineapple cool the heat I was
sensing on my tongue. “It’ll never be the same without her there.” I looked up
at the overhanging light fixture in an attempt to control the looming tears
before they fell.

“And the other?”

Sam. The pang in my heart returned with vengeance. The night in Mo’s
arms had surely intensified the feeling of loss and searching when I thought of
Sam. It had solidified her loss to me. What do I say about the woman I
considered to be the love of my life? How do I describe her to a woman who had
been my first real experience at physical love? One had opened my heart to new
experiences and one had opened my body to them. I searched her eyes, focusing
on the tiny brown circles mixed among the green of her pupil that was dilated
as she studied my face.

She reached behind her neck to pull her long hair over her
shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything. I’ve told you before and I mean
it. I’m not one to judge. You won’t hurt me. I see what you feel for her in
your eyes. If it’ll help you to speak them then do. If not, then don’t. Nothing
you say will change what I feel for you.” I watched her earring dangle against
her neck.

Her eyes held the truth of her words. They held safety—safety to
say anything my heart wished. I closed mine briefly to find the words in the
darkness. Although there wasn’t much need as the pendant light above us
provided only a dim light for the table. The scent of her lingering perfume
gifted my nose. The scent I remembered from the pillow we had shared.

“You’re safe,” she whispered as she leaned over the table.

Safe.

“Sam. Her name is Sam . . . Samantha LeJeune. I met her in medical
school.”

Mo sat back in her chair and pulled her wine glass in front of her
as if she was focusing completely on my words.

“I was . . . I didn’t know at the time but I was attracted to her
instantly. Everything about her excited me. Everything about her made me
nervous. Even though I really knew deep down what it meant, I tried to deny
it.” I shook my head, remembering the denial of the truth that rested right at
my fingertips.

She took a slow, small sip of her wine. “Rayne . . . we all did. I
did. Jaz did. We all did. What? It was supposed to be easy to identify
something about yourself that you weren’t raised to know as a possibility. Give
yourself a break.”

“But I should’ve known. I should’ve known before I lost her. I
questioned it too much. I was stronger before Memaw passed but then I let these
fears of God and religion overwhelm me. I think I know it wasn’t my fault she
died. I tell myself it wasn’t.” I grew angry at the lump building in my throat.

“How on earth could anything you did cause your grandmother’s
death? What burden are you carrying?” She slid my glass of wine in front of me.

I took her hint and brought it to my lips for a swallow . . . not a sip, a swallow. “The night she passed—the very
night she passed, I had let myself feel free for a split second. I had stopped
hiding from what my heart knew. I stopped fighting my attraction to Sam. My
love for her. I kissed her. A kiss I felt to the core of my soul. I touched her
and felt . . . I don’t know . . . home. Does that sound stupid?”

“No, not at all.”

“It felt right for the first time ever. For the first time in my
life, intimacy felt right. Never with anyone else. Never with.” I looked down
at the ring still on my finger.

Her eyes followed mine. “Rayne?”

I looked up at her.

“Don’t look at that ring. Keep telling me about the woman who
helped you to feel something for the first time. Keep telling me about you. I
doubt you’re going to find her in that ring. I only care about you. I only care
about knowing the woman you are. The woman I’ve shared my body with. The woman
I’ve connected with. She’s who I care about right now. Not that ring.”

“I never felt right with him. I’ve heard about sin, sermon after
sermon. The guilt of sin. Do you know the first time I ever didn’t feel the
guilt of sin when touching someone else or having them touch me was when I was
with Sam? That’s why I was so blown away. How could Meems be taken away from me
for something I did when it was the first time it ever felt pure and right?”

She wiped away a tear from my cheek with her thumb. “Shouldn’t
that tell you your answer?”

“My answer?”

“Yes. You said it was the first time you didn’t feel guilt or
wrong in what you were doing.”

“Horrendous guilt.”

“I don’t know what things you were taught as a child. What
religious threats you heard. So, I don’t know exactly what you are basing these
beliefs on. What I can tell you is I believe in listening to what is being
spoken. You can read verses in a bible. You can listen to men shout their
beliefs about what those verses mean. Or . . .” She dipped her head until I
looked up into her eyes. “Or you can listen to the whispers in your ears. You
can listen to the spiritual voices telling you the direction of your path.
Whether you want to believe that voice is God’s, an angel’s, Buddha’s, or just
the universe itself, it’s up to you. The most important thing is to listen.
Being spiritual and following a higher power is everyone’s right to find on
their own. It’s their own relationship between them and their whispers. It’s
not just some inflated man yelling from a podium.”

The pineapple and apricot sweetened my tongue as the wine trickled
down my throat. I watched the woman behind the expression—watched the softening
of her eyebrows as she returned my gaze. A woman who I once thought kept her
feelings either ultimately controlled or didn’t feel at all sat across from me
with an expression which told me the falseness of all of my previous beliefs.
She had become a woman who held the ability to ease both my body and my mind’s
struggle.

Listen to the voices.

“And how do you feel now? After our . . . experiences,” she asked.

“You mean beyond incredible.”

“Who’s the lady charmer now?” She shook her finger at me. “Yes,
beyond that. How do you feel as far as the right and wrong we shared?”

I hesitated for a moment to consider my thoughts. A part of me
believed maybe the guilt wasn’t there with Sam because I already loved her when
we shared our intimacy together. Maybe it was the love which kept the guilt at
bay?

“Hmmmm . . . maybe I shouldn’t have asked. You’re hesitating
awfully long. Forget I asked.”

“No wait. I’m thinking. I want to give you an honest answer.”
There wasn’t any guilt, yet I wasn’t in love with Mo. I was in love with the
moment in time she gave me and for right now, that was enough. I extended my
arm across the table to grasp her hand. “It feels incredible because it feels
all kinds of right.”

Chapter 18

“GOD, I MISSED you so much.” Grant reached across the gear shift
to grab my hand. “And then I hardly got to see you when I got back. Who
would’ve thought plastic surgery would be so demanding.”

I didn’t acknowledge the condescending statement to my specialty.
It was fair as he had not commented on the flinch of my hand with his touch. He
also didn’t speak of the tightened thigh muscles which lay beneath our joined
hands.

Technically, I could have seen him more over the last couple of
weeks since his return from New York. The extra hours he spoke of were volunteered
hours. Some could say even begged volunteer hours as I had taken nearly all
call others would trade with me. I wasn’t ready to answer Grant’s questions nor
be alone with him in the same room. As I sat staring out his car window I
realized it was more that I didn’t want to be alone with him in the same room.
After the weekend with Mo, I knew in my heart there were things with Grant that
I could never do again. Those things seemed to find their way to possibility
when we were alone. There was safety in riding with him home for Thanksgiving
because we had no time for a detour or stop over. Both of us had difficulty
getting off earlier than the Wednesday before the holiday.

“Rayne, you would’ve loved New York. I didn’t spend a lot of time
outside of the hospital but, man, when we did get out, there was so much to
do.”

Man?

“There was always something open. We could leave the OR at four in
the morning and go anywhere we wanted. If we wanted a drink . . . yep, there
was somewhere to go. If we wanted breakfast . . . dinner . . . there was a
place for that too. It was crazy.”

“Yeah. Sounds neat.” I hardly had interest in the conversation
much less the desire to participate.

He however, was full of excitement. He stared out through the
windshield yet I wondered if he saw the road in front of him. His eyes looked
out into the two lane highway as if he saw only the lights of New York. Its
worn white-and-yellow lines were hardly visible under the overcast sky—not
necessarily a cloud-filled sky but rather one with a uniform grayish color.

“Yeah. The hospitals. Did they ever have their shit together? They
had one whole wing for vascular patients. The whole OR team was specialized.
Not once did I have to explain to a scrub what I needed.”

“Sounds great.”

“It was. You would really love it there. I was thinking maybe we
could run up there before Christmas. Take a weekend trip you know? Maybe do a
little shopping. Take a look around.”

Christmas already. I was barely hopeful to get
through Thanksgiving much less let my thoughts venture on to the next holiday.
“I don’t know. We’ll see. Maybe after the first of the year.”

He reached behind the steering wheel to turn on the windshield
wipers. They screeched across the mist-covered glass and thudded back into
their place above the hood. “Okay, but soon after the first. Like maybe the
first week in January?”

“Maybe. We have plenty of time to plan a weekend trip.”

He turned the temperature knob to add a touch of heat to the
circulating air. “Yeah, but they need to know my timeframe shortly after the
first of the year.”

“They? Timeframe?”

“Yeah. New York-Presbyterian Hospital.” He looked at me as if I
was somehow to know what he was talking about. As if I had forgotten something
he had already discussed with me. “They offered me a residency position at
their Vascular Institute.”

“I was wondering when you were going to tell be about that.”

He looked away from the road toward me. “What
do you mean?”

“Tyler told me you and Paxton were going for a year residency
there. That this little stint up there was just a stepping stone to see who
they wanted. You didn’t tell me anything about it.”

He turned away from me shamefully. “I know,” he said as he sighed.
“Truth is I didn’t think it would be a thing to discuss. They’ve been
considering people from all over the world to join them. I didn’t think I had a
snowball’s chance. Hell I was surprised I made it as far as I did. But that’s
not even the best news.” He was smiling as he glanced back at me. “I could
finish out there with the likelihood of a staffing position once I’m done. Can
you imagine, Rayne?”

Could I imagine? What was he telling me? I turned from the
window to look at him straight on. “No, actually I can’t. What do you mean a
staffing position?”

“Meaning they want me to stay on after I’m done. I would be part
of countless studies and have who knows how many opportunities to publish.”

“But what about home?” I turned down the heat I found stifling.
“What about your family? I thought you wanted to move back home to open a
practice.”

“Well, yeah.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering
wheel tighter. “I mean I did. But you and I both know I’m going to get few if
any real good cases there. And I sure as hell won’t get to be a part of any
major studies or grant opportunities. Rayne, this is my chance to be more. This
is my shot.”

“Real good cases. Is that what the people we
grew up with mean to you? They’re cases? What happened to wanting to come back
home and make a difference in the lives of the people we grew up knowing? What
happened to the man who dreamed of that?”

“He grew up.”

“Ah. I see. He grew up, huh?” I looked out at the scenery I
recognized. I sure as hell didn’t recognize the person in the car next to me.

“You know what I mean.”

“Sure, I know what you mean.”

“And just think of the opportunities you’ll have.”

The muscles along the back of my neck twitched as I wrenched my
head to look at him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“You’ll be able to do any type of plastics you want. Burns . . .
reconstructions . . . cosmetics. Think of the clientele base you’ll have if you
go for cosmetic surgery.”

“What makes you think I’ll be going there and when did I ever
insinuate I wanted a cosmetic based practice?”

“Well, if I am . . . then aren’t you?” He sounded surprised.

“No. I absolutely am not.”

The wind felt stronger against the car as I watched the
speedometer needle move clockwise. “No. Just no? You wouldn’t even consider
coming with me? I thought we wanted to live our dreams together.”

“That was when our dreams were on the same path. Why would you
even think I would all of a sudden want to move to New York?”

“Maybe because we are engaged. Maybe because we are going to be
husband and wife soon. I sort of thought couples did that sort of thing for one
another.”

Soon? “Couples did what? Changed the game plan to fit their wants and
then just expect the other one to follow.”

“Don’t you do that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t you make changes I’m supposed to follow? Like your friends
for instance. First there was Sam. You meet her and bam I’m like an annoyance
to you. Like it’s a chore for you to spend time with me. And now you’ve made
more. These I haven’t even met yet but I could hardly get you on the phone when
I was away. I knew it was because of you being with them. So tell me again about
changing the dynamics of the relationship and expecting the other to follow.
Because that’s a conversation I’ve been waiting for.”

“Grant, I don’t want to fight. Can we just change the subject?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say.” His knuckles turned
white again as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We have both made
changes. I have accepted and gone along with yours and now I’m asking you to do
the same.”

I felt myself growing angry at him yet I knew the fact he was
right in what he was saying was the real reason for my anger. I wasn’t ready
for this particular conversation so I held my tongue from saying anything and
sincerely hoped he would change the subject.

In the distance I noticed a fast approaching small oak tree. Its
branches were covered with brilliant yellowish-green leaves. They were a stark
contrast against the dark green needles of pine branches surrounding its limbs.
The tree glowed with life. Holding on to the last of its remaining color before
the cold temperatures stole it in the night. It seemed to stand in defiance of
the overpowering pine trees and gray skies. Its light would not be dampened . .
. would not be shadowed.

After we passed the tree, I focused on Grant—the stiffness in his
jaw as he twitched his muscles. He was angry too. He was upset with my response
as if I would have gladly changed my future dreams because somehow it was
expected of a dutiful wife. He had accepted my changes without even commenting
on the fact he noticed them. Now he expected the same. It was painfully obvious
we had both made choices with the end result of us seeing a future that did not
find us as husband and wife.

Listen to the voices.

Was this new development giving me my way out to the future I
wanted? Could I cower behind the simplicity of location as a reason to cancel
our nuptials? Would I betray the small oak’s strength if I were to succumb to
using another reason behind my choices other than being strong in the truth of
who I was?

THE SOUND OF the car’s tires was louder than I remembered as Grant
drove along the asphalt drive lined by pecan trees. The trees had once provided
a staple and source of income for the large plantation home.

Crunch. Crack. Crunch. Crack.

Quietly, I stretched my neck to look out the window at the ground.
Hundreds of pecan shells, some freed from the black outer covering while others
were naked of their shells, lay across the road and ground. The house came into
view.

“What are you guys like the fucking Kennedys of Mayberry or
something?” Sam’s comment had once brought a laugh. Today it left me with a
feeling fitting of the gray sky.

Charlie Grace walked out of the large French doors of the house.
Her movements were slow as she stepped down the brick steps. She looked
radiantly put together. She looked elegant. She looked . . . older.

“I had nearly put my mind to y’all missing dinner this evening.”
Her dramatic flair was as much a memory as Sam’s voice. She opened the
passenger door as Grant rolled to a stop. “Well, it’s about time you two got
here. Oh dear Gawd, what did you do to your hair?” She flipped the short
strands of hair that fell below my ear. “At least we have time to let it grow
out before the wedding.” She frowned. “But those blonde highlights will take
forever to grow out.”

And there she was . . . Charlie Grace.

“Hi, Mother. So nice to see you too.” I stood from the car and
gave her our standard brief hug.

She ran her finger across my bangs and touched them as if they
stung her hand. “Really, Rayne. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I was
thinking ‘hey, I’d like to get a new hairstyle.’ You know something crazy like
that. Kids these days.”

“Such sass.” She looked over my shoulder. “Well, at least you
shaved that crap off so I can see your handsome face again.”

I looked over the hood to see Grant’s cleanly shaven face. Wait?
He shaved his beard? The look on his face was as quizzical and questioning
as the thoughts in my head.

“You two have seen each other, yes?” Charlie Grace looked back and
forth between us. “I mean you did just spend hours with each other in the car
or am I wrong about that? Good Lord, you two look like you’re seeing each other
for the first time.”

“I don’t know about that but, Charlie Grace, you’re a sight for
sore eyes.” Grant stepped around the hood of the car to lift her up in his
arms.

She laughed . . . literally laughed before patting his face with
her hands. They looked smaller. I wasn’t sure if it was the actual size of them
or maybe it was a new shirt. She usually didn’t wear her shirts this loose with
the sleeves opening out over her wrists. Or is she smaller?

“Hey look at you two!” Jacques took the brick steps more rapidly
than Charlie Grace had. He took me fully in his arms and hugged me . . . a hug,
close to a hold. “Rayne, you look beautiful. I love the new do.”

I wrapped my arm around his waist as he pulled away from the hug.
He kept his arm around my shoulder, squeezing slightly as he spoke.

“Grant, thanks for bringing our girl home to us.” He looked down
into my eyes. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

He dropped his hand from my shoulder. “Come on, son. Let’s get you
unloaded.”

I looked past Jacques as I waited for the others to come out of
the house. “Where’s Glenn? Are they still in the woods?”

Jacques looked over his shoulder toward Charlie Grace who hung her
head as she retreated back into the house. The door closed softly behind her.

“Not this time, honey. They didn’t come up this year.” He patted
me softly on my shoulder. His and Charlie Grace’s actions spoke volumes beyond
words. This was not a topic to be further discussed.

Grant and I followed Jacques into the house. If not for the smell
of basil and peppers warming my nose, I would have been uncomfortable with the
chill in the foyer of the house. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my
jacket. Yet it wasn’t a temperature that chilled my body. It was the house. The
sense of the house. Nothing was as I remembered of Thanksgivings past. I peered
into the den where Charlie Grace sat quietly staring at a fireplace filled with
burning candles. The rich fall colors were absent from the drapery. The purples
and golds found during the beginning of football season still remained the
focus of the room’s decorations.

“Are you making pasta tonight?” I sat down on the couch beside
her.

“No. Pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Yes. This one here got a wild hair to learn to make pizza. A few
thousand dollars later we have a renovated kitchen with a brick pizza oven,”
Jacques said as he and Grant walked into the room. “If she keeps trying new
things, I won’t be a bit surprised if she says she’s going parachuting next.”

“Oh, please. I hardly think a brick oven is the same as jumping
out a perfectly good airplane. I find the comparison to be utterly ridiculous.”

“You’re right. I would’ve spent a helluva lot less money on the
parachute jump.” He and Grant chuckled, although I could tell Charlie Grace was
anything but amused.

She stood from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

“You’re in the doghouse tonight, old buddy,” Grant said as he sat
in the loveseat closest to where I was.

“It’s okay. I’ve been out there so much lately it’s like a second
home to me.”

“Where are all of the decorations, Jacques?” I placed a sofa
pillow over my arms, when I felt the chill of the house again.

Jacques looked around the room. “Yeah. She said she didn’t feel
much like putting them out this year.”

“Is she not feeling well? She looks like she’s lost weight.”

“She’s not eating the best.” Jacques winked at me. “She’s gonna be
okay.”

Charlie Grace cleared her throat. “She’s absolutely fine and
happens to be back in the same room. She also doesn’t appreciate being talked
about behind her back.” She sipped on the fresh martini in her hand as she sat
back on the couch.

“What? No Irish Coffees?” The chill grew.

“I’ll make you one if you want.” Charlie Grace pulled a shawl from
the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders.

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.”

Everything was off. I recognized the look in Charlie Grace’s eyes
as she stared into the burning candles. I saw the familiarity in the gray
version of my own. The eyes which stared back at me when I thought of Memaw . .
. when I felt the pain of her loss. Did I really see the same in hers? The
signs of lines at her eyes drew her lids down into a frown. I caught the faint
lines of clumped makeup around the sides of her mouth. When did she age so?

“Come on, Grant. Let’s go ice down some beer to go with this
delicious smelling pizza. Who needs Irish Coffee with pizza?” Jacques said
while he walked toward the door.

After the men left the room, Charlie Grace and I watched the
flickering candles in silence.

Chapter 19

“I DON’T KNOW, Jazlyn. It’s just so weird here.” I sat on the
porch along the back of the house as I hardly wanted to be inside a moment
longer.

“What? Being back home after so long or is
there more to it?”

“More. Way more. The whole place feels off. Charlie Grace. The
house. The traditions. They’re all off.” I rocked the chair and leaned my head
against the back of it. The chair squeaked in the too long silence.

“Is this the first Thanksgiving?” Jazlyn’s voice held a
tenderness.

“Yes.”

“And it was this time of year?”

“Yes.”

I heard Jazlyn’s deep intake of air. “Aw, my friend. It’ll be
tough on everyone.”

“Not Charlie Grace. That woman is made of stone.”

“But she lost her mother.”

“You didn’t see her at the funeral.” My voice cracked.

“I’m here for whatever you need. If you want
to cry, I’m here. If you would rather not right now . . . then we can make that
happen too.”

“I could use a change of subject.”

“Well, alright then. Let’s do this.” I could hear that smile of
hers behind her words. The one that was so wide and open I swore I could see
her molars. It brightened her whole face when she smiled. It brightened mine.
She was truly a best friend. “So . . . they have a new dish at the Thai place
and it’s freaking unbelievable.”

I laughed. “I thought I heard your chewing
when I first called.”

“Sorry, dude. I was trying to hide it.” She was not, however,
trying to hide it now as I could tell she was talking around a mouth full.
“It’s just so freaking good and I’m a starvin’ Marvin over here. The
club is crazy tonight. Damn lesbians are trying to dance their asses off before
the big turkey day.”

“Hey, you gotta do something to make room for that extra piece of
sweet potato pie.”

“Yuck. You can keep your little potatoes of the sweet. I’ll take
this chicken with coconut and tarragon.”

I heard her take a sip of liquid. “What are you drinking?”

She laughed. “Damn, you’re on top of your
investigative skills tonight.”

“That I am.”

“We thought a new meal deserved a new wine choice.”

“We? Violent home tonight.”

“Nah. She’s on call. This is her holiday. Mo’s here.”

Mo’s there? The thumping of the heartbeat in my ears drowned out my rocking
chair’s creak.

“She came in to spend the turkey day with me. We are grabbing a
bite in between her sets.”

My mouth was too dry to speak. My throat was tight with visions of
Mo’s eyes as she watched my lips. The eyes that watched me as her body lay on
top of me. Her face obscured by the hair which fell as she rested above me. The
smile that crept across her face as she tucked the loose strands behind her
ear.

“Hey? Did I lose you?”

I swallowed.

“Damn cell phones.”

“No, I’m here. Sorry. So, Mo’s there?” Geez was that as pathetic
as I heard in my own head?

“Yeah, she’s here. Just walking in from her set.” Jazlyn’s voice
became muffled and I wondered if she had moved the phone away from her mouth.
It didn’t keep me from hearing her words. “Damn, girl. Do I need to put a fan
up there with you? You’re drenched.”

I heard Mo’s laughter and voice, and my stomach flipped like an
ocean wave had crossed my belly.

“Talking to Rayne. Want me to tell her anything for you?”

“Aw . . .” I could hear Mo say. “Sure. Tell her I said hi.”

“Mo says hi.”

The wave suddenly turned to nausea. “I heard. Thanks. Tell her I
said hi back.” I started the chair rocking again to take my mind off of the
feeling in my stomach. “I’ll let you two go enjoy your new fab dinner.” I hoped
my voice sounded chipper. I hoped it sounded anything other than the
disappointment I felt knowing Mo was back in town and hadn’t contacted me.

“Are you sure? We can keep talking if you want? Mo can entertain
herself. You know that.”

“Ha. Yeah. She’s a woman of many talents.” I forced a laugh. I was
sure Jazlyn would hear it, but maybe she would think it for reasons besides the
pain of realizing I was a one night stand. “But, yeah. I’m good. Getting ready
for bed actually. Ya’ll have fun tonight.”

THE SOUND OF a trickling rain beat lightly across the roof of the
balcony outside my bedroom. The pattering of its drops was comforting and just
loud enough to attempt to deafen my thoughts. I massaged my forehead to try to
rub away the aching throb between my eyebrows.

What was it about life these days? Could nothing be simple
anymore? I had gone from a life of worrying about nothing more than when I
would go fishing with Memaw again to why a woman I had shared the most intimate
parts of my body with had never called me afterward. In between those thoughts
were the facts: I was engaged to a man I knew I could never marry, I had a
mother who seemed to be slipping into a depression, which was so unlike
anything I had seen of her before, I had fallen in love and loss with a woman I
believed was truly the love of my life and I was filled with the eternal
blackness left the night Memaw passed in my arms. How? How did it all go so
wrong in such a short amount of time?

I looked up, startled at the vibrating phone on the small wooden
nightstand. I managed to catch it before it vibrated off the table.

“Hello.”

“Hey, you.”

Mo.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you?” Mo’s voice was hoarse. It got that way after a
night’s show.

“No. I’m in bed but not sleeping.”

“Oh.”

I became acutely aware of the high-pitched drip of water as it
fell through the guttering. I counted the drops as they hit against the metal.

Mo took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wish I were
there with you.”

“Where?”

“In your bed. Lying next to you.”

I bit into my bottom lip.

“Rayne?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I were there with you now. Or you here with me. Or
anywhere for the matter. Anywhere that found your body against mine again.”

“You didn’t call.”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m not the one that sleeps with random women.”

“Is that what you are? Is that what it was?”

“You tell me.” I didn’t want to argue. I
didn’t. All I wanted to do was fall into her voice. All I wanted to do was
envision her as she had described . . . lying behind me with her arms wrapped
around me and listening to the rain. Yet I feared the pain of letting my
thoughts go there. She hadn’t called. In the days since I kissed her goodbye at
Jazlyn’s loft, I had thought of her. I wondered if she had moved on to another
woman lying underneath her touch. A distant roll of thunder shook me from that
train of thought.

“Is that thunder?”

“Yes. It’s still far off but yeah.”

“I love thunderstorms.”

“I remember.”

“Rayne?”

“Yes.”

“If you want to talk about who didn’t call who, we can do that. Or
if given my choice we can accept that either one of us could’ve called the
other but for whatever reason we didn’t and let it go right there.” She let out
another deep sigh. “I want to be there with you,” she whispered. A whisper that
set my body on fire. “Lying behind you. Holding you in my arms. Listening to
the rain.”

Just like that with the sound of her whisper in my ear, I was
there again. Listening to the rain on the roof top of Jazlyn’s loft. I felt the
warmth of her body. The touch of her fingertips. The yearning ache in the pit
of my stomach. “I don’t want.”

“Hmmmmm . . . okay then.”

“No. I mean I don’t want to discuss who didn’t call who.” I
followed her whisper, hoping for the same affect. “I want you here or me there.
I want that so badly.”

“That’s better.” Her words were drawn out.

The thunder was closer this time and vibrated
the glass balcony door.

“Sounds like it’s getting closer?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

“Wish you could see the moon tonight. I’m up on the rooftop and
it’s a gorgeous night here.”

“I remember that rooftop.”

“As do I.” I heard rustling. “I remember how your body felt under
these sheets.”

“Oooh. You’re on the bed.” Another butterfly.

“I am.”

My throat closed again to the words I wanted to say.

“I’ve thought of you. Hell, thought about nothing but you. You’ve
sort of captivated me, Rayne Storm. It’s fitting we are talking while one is
happening.”

She thought of me. I tucked the pillows in behind my back to sit up against the
headboard.

“I was waiting for you to call. A part of me was afraid you may
have been freaked out after our weekend. It’s not like you’re completely
available. You’re engaged and your heart belongs to someone else. I also feared
you weren’t overly comfortable with the time we shared. Was it an experience to
get out of your system or were you thinking it may in fact be a part of you?
Every time I picked up my phone to call you I had those thoughts run through my
head. So I waited.”

“And I never called.”

“You didn’t but it’s okay. I only said it to tell you where I am
with all of this.”

“It’s more than a part.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It’s more than a part of me. It is me.”

She paused for several seconds. “Because you feel that way or
because of something I said and you think it’s the way you should respond.”

“Because I feel it. Because I know it.” I straightened the covers
across my lap. “Because I accept it now. I’m a lesbian. Have always been.”

“You know you don’t have to tell me that. It doesn’t change how I
feel about you.”

“I know, but it’s the truth.”

I could hear her breaths over the storm outside. They were steady
and I was beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

“I’m really into you,” she said. “More than I thought I would be.
Can’t stop thinking about you actually.”

I let her words sink in like a slideshow played in my head. It was
a collection of all of the thoughts I had been having of her. I had hidden them
pretty well until then. Hidden the fact  that I too thought of her endlessly.
Hadn’t I awoken several times to reach for her across an empty bed? I let the
feeling of all of it in. Let it truly in and let out a releasing breath.

Listen to the voices.

“I’ve not stopped thinking of you. Don’t want to stop thinking of
you,” I said.

“So . . . think we might try to see what happens here? Talk a
little more? Call? Maybe make plans to see each other the next time I’m in
town?”

I let my head fall back against the wooden frame. I smiled for the
first time since I returned back home. “Yeah. I think we could do that.”

“Excellent. Until then I suppose.” I heard the smile behind her
voice too. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

I nestled into the bed, suddenly feeling the calmness of a night’s
sleep calling me.

Chapter 20

“LAWD, CHIL’, IF you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.”

I hardly rubbed the fatigue from my eyes or expressed a good yawn
before Flossie had me in her arms.

Brown sugar and honey. Wait! Brown sugar and honey?

I pulled back quickly from her. The look of surprise on her face
matched the surprise I felt.

“What you got that look for, sis?”

“Flossie . . . you . . . you smell just like Meems.” The heaviness
of the black hole opened across my heart. Its weight changed the beat and
caused a flutter in my chest.

She dropped her head slightly and tugged at the dishrag she held
in her hands before throwing it over her shoulder. “Yeah. Dat heifer gave me
her damn recipe for the soap she’d been using all the time. I found it a piece
back.” She shrugged and turned her back to me as she walked to the coffee pot.
“Sorry, sis. I done forgot I was using the stuff. You want some coffee?”

I took her arm and pulled her tightly against me, breathing in all
of the scent that reminded me of the last time a hug felt like being held. “No
apologies. It’s nice. I didn’t think I would ever smell this again.” I held her
hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s a nice reminder, Flossie.”

“So is laying eyes on you. If’n you ain’t the spitting image of
her, I don’t know what is.”

“Eeeeek.” The ear-splitting squeal was followed by clapping hands.
“Rayne Amber Storm you done slipped in on us ol’ gals.”

I turned toward Cora’s voice and stared in shock at the
stiff-styled coif upon her head. It was of the same style but this time the
usual blue-to-gray color was dyed a coal black. I recoiled as I looked back at
Flossie for support. She merely rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned
away from me.

Cora ran, well . . . waddled over to me. She swooped me up in an
embrace that squeezed every bit of the wind out of me with her well-endowed
chest. She rocked me back and forth in her arms. “I wasn’t thinkin’ you ever
gonna get here. We been waitin’ pert near an eternity for you to come home.”
She pushed me away from her with nearly the same force as she had pulled me
into her. She looked me sternly in my eyes. “Yo’ Momma been needin’ you, baby
girl. She been needin’ you something fierce I tell ya.”

“I doubt that, Cora. Charlie Grace needs no one but Charlie
Grace.”

Cora slapped my arm harder. “You hush that talk around me, young
lady. I’ll not have it.” She stomped her chubby foot against the tile floor and
brushed my shoulder as she walked past me. The force of her hip knocked me into
the kitchen island. “Now you sit and I’ll gets us some coffee.”

Flossie was already pouring the cups. She turned around to hand
two to Cora before sitting at the bar.

I took a sip. “Now this is coffee.” I took another long sip. “I
can’t get good hot strong coffee like this in Birmingham.” Not that I had been
out for coffee much lately. “And you definitely can’t get it anywhere in the
hospital, which is where I spend most of my time. I sure miss it. Doesn’t taste
near this good there.”

Flossie smiled over her cup. “Ain’t nothin’ as good as it is back
home.” Her voice was flat.

Cora spooned the fourth teaspoon of sugar into her cup. “And you
best be listening to her on that one, Missy. It’s time you be gettin’ that
fanny of yours back home. How much more you got up there in that big fancy
school?”

“About two years.”

“Lawd Jesus in Heaven.” Cora threw her arms up and brought them
forward as if praying. “She ain’t gonna make it that long.” She looked at
Flossie who sat there quietly drinking her coffee.

Wait. Flossie is sitting drinking coffee?

I looked around the kitchen. There were no pots on the stove. No
iron skillets on the counter. No anything. “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t it like a
quarter pass time for you both to be in frantic cooking crazy mode?”

They looked at each other with eyes that told the sadness between
them both. Cora shook her head and sipped her coffee. She patted her hand over
her chest above the cleavage lines. She looked back at Flossie as if asking her
to speak for the both of them.

“Flossie?” I put my cup on the counter to focus on her.

“We ain’t cooking this year.”

“What?”

Cora’s thump against her chest became stronger and more rapid.
“She’s catering the whole thang. That chef from N’awlins is cooking our
Thanksgiving dinner. Can you believe that?” She put her cup in the sink. “The
menu’s so uppity I can’t near pronounce half of it. It ain’t right I tell you.
It ain’t right.” She pulled a tissue from her cleavage and wiped at her nose.
“If’n it weren’t for yo’ wedding to plan, I think that women would done dried
up to nothin’.”

The wedding. I failed to catch the sigh before it escaped my lips.

“It seems I’m quite the topic of conversation since you’ve come
home, Rayne Amber.”

We turned to the door, startled. Charlie Grace walked by us,
barely acknowledging we were between her and the coffee pot.

She filled her cup, blew a breath out onto the coffee, and took a
sip. “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt. I mean it sounds like a thrilling
conversation.” She walked out without another word.

Flossie and Cora caught each other’s eyes again before they looked
at me as if to say, “See?”

Cora slung her large bag imitating a purse over her shoulder.
“Guess I’ll be goin’ too.”

In the quiet of a kitchen, which would have normally been filled
with clanking spoons against metal pans, the chop of a knife against a wooden
cutting block, the whirl of spinning mixers, and the shouts of needed
ingredients . . . there was nothing but silence. There were no smells of
cornbread browning in the oven nor onions and peppers sautéing on the stove.
There was only the smell of burning coffee as the practically empty pot still
sat on a heating plate.

“What the hell is going on around here?”

Flossie drained the last of her cup. “Baby girl . . . so much.
Wanna come help me out at the turkey fryer in a few hours?”

“You’re still frying a turkey?”

Flossie winked. “Come on out den.”

A FEW HOURS later I found her sitting alone next to a large metal
pot that rested over an unlit gas burner. She sat perfectly still while she
stared out into the woods. Leaves and pine cones were scattered about the
clearing. I couldn’t tell if they had been present there for some time or if
they had been scattered about from last night’s storm.

The crunch of them under my feet startled Flossie. She turned her
head to me. “Well hey, sis. I didn’t hear ya come up.”

“Ummm . . . yeah. You were studying those trees over there pretty
hard.”

She laughed . . . sort of laughed.

“You know that grease isn’t going to get too hot without that
flame lit.” I pointed to the gas burner as I sat down in the chair next to her.

She laughed. She stood, raised the metal lid off of the pot, and
reached into the depths of it. Instead of a hand dripping with oil, she pulled
out a beer. “I didn’t say I was frying a turkey. I said I was at the turkey
fryer.”

I peeked into the pot. The tops of several bottles of beer stuck
out of the crushed ice and almost reached the lid. “Well, now that’s my kind of
turkey.”

Flossie popped the top and handed me the beer. She grabbed herself
one before sitting back down next to me. “Didn’t seem right not being
out here.” She took a long swallow. “Don’t feel much better this way none
either.”

“It’s so different here, Flossie. So much has changed.” The cold
beer felt good sliding down my throat. It’d been too long since I had a cold
one on my lips as I sat outside my Louisiana home.

“Yep, sis. It sho is dat.” She took another
swallow of hers. I watched the liquid fall from its neck back into the bottle
and realized she had already downed a hefty amount in two swallows. “It ain’t
the same without her. She done been the glue for us. For all of us.” She rubbed
her palm on her jeans. “She was da glue.”

The lawn chair fabric gave to my weight as I
leaned back against it. All this time I had forgotten what she meant to my
family—to the town that was also her family. I’d been as guilty of what I
accused Charlie Grace of being. I had lost sight beyond myself to see the
others affected. The hurt I felt in my heart—the black hole of loss—it was in
the eyes of those around me. It was in Flossie’s eyes.

“It been hard here without you.” She kept her
head down but looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Been missing ya more
since I beena missing her so hard. We all been needing you home.”

Charlie Grace’s face flashed in my head. “All
of you except Mother.”

“What? She’d da one been missing you’d the mosts.”

I rolled my eyes and took a drink of beer.

“What? You not see her dis morning. You not see’d her a’toll? A
good damn gust of wind pass’n her by and she gone be carried off with it. I’ma
bettin’ she ain’t ninety pounds soaking wet.”

“Yeah, I noticed she had lost weight. Is she not feeling well? Has
she been sick?”

“She heartbroken.”

“Over?”

“Addie. Time. You.” Flossie drained her beer. She stood, opened
the metal lid, turned the empty bottle upside down in the ice, and grabbed
another one. She pointed it at me. “You ready?”

I looked at the half empty bottle in my hand. “No thanks. Not
yet.”

She sat down hard in the lawn chair as if it
took all of her strength to stand up to get another drink. “Time passed her up,
baby girl. She done thought she’d had all the time to make things right. Now
dat time gone by. She gone have to accept it and let it go.”

“What time? She needed time for what?”

“To make things right with Addie. To forgive Addie in the time
Addie was here for her to forgive. Now she gone have to wrestle dem demons all
by herself.” She tipped her bottle up to her lips. “Den she gone have to
wrestle dem with you.” She looked at me. “And you gone have to do the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Flossie.” I finished the
beer and stood. “What demons? What on earth did she have to forgive Meems
about? Meems never did anything to deserve the way Mother treated her. Were you
not at her funeral?” I felt my voice escalating as I pulled another bottle from
the pot. “So why the hell should I help fight her demons with her?” I rubbed
away the ice from the bottle and sat back down.

“I was dere.”

“Memaw didn’t deserve that. She was the best mother I had.”

“She was for you. Charlie Grace done growed up with a different
Addie. She didn’t have that same Addie you had.”

What was she saying? Why? Why would she talk about Meems like this?

“Don’t you be giving me dat look. Sis, we all growed up in this
life we get. Addie was dipped in gold fo sho but she tweren’t always like dat.
Yo’ momma knew’d a different Addie. She held onto dat Addie for so long she
couldn’t see the Addie you done know’d.” She turned to me. “And now she got to
live with it. She ain’t ever gonna get the chance to make it right with her.
She ain’t ever gonna be able to say she see’d the true Addie. I ain’t wanting
to see dat same hurt in yo’ eyes.”

I understood the depth of her swallows and took in the same amount
of beer.

“Did I ever tell you how’d I met Addie?”

I shook my head. Words were trapped within the thoughts she had
started—Meems being a different person . . . mother to Charlie Grace.

“Lawd, child. Me and my old man had been in the moonshine
something fierce dat day when we came up on Addie and yo Pa. Drunks ain’t got
no business being around drunks. Throw in a couple of pistols and we sho nuff
got trouble. Throw in yo Pa’s temper and my old man’s in da mix and you end up
spending the night locked up to sleep it off.”

“What? Y’all went to jail?”

“Sho did. Spent the whole damn night dere. Dat’s when Addie and me
made friends. Well . . . after we sobered up that is. Dat Addie she was filled
with piss and vinegar I tell ya. Piss and vinegar. When my old man cursed yo Pa
for crawfishing on his bet, she plum near jumped on his back to beat the cotton
pickin’ stew outta him. I’d always say’d it was because she missed that bottle
on her last shot. Course she’d never agree to dat. Our old men thought it be
fun to see who was’n the better shot between us. They threw’d up beer bottles
in the air and we’d shoot ’em with our pistols. Lawd knows he’d was watching
over us drunks with dem guns.” She shook her head and took a smaller swallow of
beer. A smile crept across her face. “Yep, she was full of piss and vinegar.”

“That’s funny. Picturing y’all all lit up like that.”

“Tweren’t too funny for yo’ momma. She had to spend the night with
the sheriff and his wife. Ain’t nobody else around to watch her overnight. Yo’
momma always did talk about the night her friends at school saw her riding in
the back of dat police car. Yo’ momma got dem scars just like you carry ’round.
They gone fester in time if’n you don’t let dem go.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t see her growing much. She’s the same she has
always been.”

“Give her time. She a good mom now but she
gone get better for you . . . just like Addie did for her. I’ma just hoping you
see it before it’s too late. You gone have to come back home to see’d it tho’.”

“I know.” I turned the bottle up and realized I’d already taken
the last swallow. I don’t think I had ever given thought to Meems being anyone
different in her younger years. I had never given thought that maybe Charlie
Grace had a reason for her distance with Meems. The nice little package of
Charlie Grace’s actions as a part of her personality seemed to fit the best in
my mind. Anything else clouded the disdain I felt for her—made her more human.
I didn’t like the confusion it stirred inside of me. I wanted the subject
changed. “So . . . where was Cora headed off to and what is up with that
hairdo?”

“Oh, Lawd . . . don’t get me’a startin’ on dat. That crazy ole
mule done lost her mind I tell ya.”

“It must be the toxicity from the hair dye.”

“I dunno know about no toxicosity but she had lost her fool mind
fo sho. That heifer got on one of dem dating computer things. They done put dat
whatever it is on dem computers at the home where you can talk to people but
not talk to people. I plum near don’t get it. She be telling me she talked to
some man but I ain’t once seen her on the phone. She just’n pecking away on dem
keys. Peck. Peck. Peck.” Flossie put her beer between her legs and moved her
middle fingers in the air as if she was searching for keys on a computer.
“Giggle. Peck. Giggle. Peck. She sounded like some fool school girl over there
giggling. Hell, the first time I saw dem ole mules circled all around that
thinking box, I thought they’s were lookin’ at nuddie pictures. Nope, it
tweren’t nothing but words.”

“So Cora started online dating?” I laughed. A laugh that felt really
good. “And she met someone?”

She shook her head a vigorous yes. “Sho did. I
swear she be thinkin’ dat man gonna fart and she ain’t gone be there to smell
it.”

I spit the swallow of beer down my shirt and wiped at the mess I
made. “Good gracious, Flossie. Give a woman a little warning before you say
something like that.”

“I only tellin’ the truth. It’s Harold dis and Harold dat.” She
turned her voice into a high-pitched sound. “I gotta go get dis for Harold. I
can’t tonight. I’m’a goin with Harold.”

“Wow. Cora’s got her a boyfriend. I’m a little shocked.”

“Oh, I got me a word for it and it ain’t dat one.”

Text
message from Mo at 2:25pm: “Thinking of you”

Text
message from Mo at 2:30pm: “Still want to be in that bed with U”

“Aawww, now there’s a smile. Was that your friend Sam? Don’t see
much of her anymore. Ain’t been hearing much about her from you either.”

“No. It wasn’t Sam.” My smile faded but damn did that beer taste
good. “She moved to finish her residency in Jacksonville, Florida.” The sound of
the disconnected recording blared in my head. It threatened tears always kept
at the surface of the place in my heart she held. “We don’t really talk much
anymore.”

“That’s a damn shame, sis. I really liked her. So did Addie. But
you just’n got a smile I once saw on your face when dat Sam was around.”

The thought of Mo’s text brought the smile
back. “She’s a new friend.”

“Aw.” Flossie took a swallow of her beer. “Maybe I’ll get to meet
her one day.”

“Maybe.” Suddenly the patch of woods, which had held Flossie’s
attention called upon mine.

Mo wouldn’t be the type of woman I would bring home. She’s said
many times over she wasn’t a girlfriend type. That was what was so great about
her. I could be me. She never asked for more. That’s what so great about
her, right? There wouldn’t be more to worry about other than when we would
see each other again—not much beyond that.

“Sis, it been eating at me. Somethin’ been playing on my mind
pretty hard.”

I turned from the woods to face her. “What
is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m going to be okay. Dis ain’t ’bout me. It ’bout you. Addie and
I had talked ’bout dem eyes of yours. Dem you had a when you looked at yo’
phone and then dem you had a second ago. They be filled with so much happiness
and . . . den in a blink of an eye so much sadness. Tore us up to see dem on
you when they flashed like’n dat. Damn near broke Addie’s heart every time.”
She raised her bottle and inspected the last little bit of liquid in the
bottom. She stood and her knees wobbled for a second until she steadied herself
with the arm of the chair. Its opposite side raised off of the ground against
the weight of it. She took a step toward the fryer. “She done fell to the same
time dat yo’ momma fell into. She left’n something unsaid to you.” She raised
the metal lid but kept her back to me. “You ready?”

Ready for what? Another beer or what it is Meems left unsaid to
me? Yes. Yes to both.

“Yeah. I’ll take another.” I put my empty in the hand she offered
behind her back.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall with the depth of the breath
she took. Another came and went before she turned to me and her eyes showed the
many thoughts behind them. Slowly she handed me a beer. She didn’t let it go
after I had gripped it but instead held onto the neck. I looked into her eyes
until I felt the full weight of the bottle in my hand. She held my stare a
moment longer before she spoke again.

“Addie really liked dat friend of yours. She told me so. She told
me in secret.” She looked up at the sky before stepping away from me to sit in
the chair. “I’m not betraying her you know. If’n she was here she’d want me to
say dis. I know’d it in my heart . . . like she’s telling me to tell you. Like
her hands are on my shoulders right dis minute. Pushing me to tell you.” She
swiped hard at her cheeks. She took a long swig of her beer. “She done told me
the way dat girl looked at you. She know’d you were loved.”

I felt a sudden spin from the alcohol or the words she was saying
I wasn’t sure which was the reason. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t swallow. I
couldn’t blink.

Flossie rubbed her thumb over the lip of the bottle. “She know’d
you two loved each other in a way she had found with’n yo Pa.”

My heart raced in my chest.

She looked at me and placed her hand on my knee. She held me in
her eyes. I’ve no doubt she saw the fear mine held. “She saw the way you looked
at her too. She saw love, baby girl. I saw’d it.” She squeezed my leg. “It yo’
life to do what you want. What dis old lady saying don’t mean a hill of beans.
It yo’ life to make it. But I’ma figurin’ you need to know how Addie felt
before you puttin’ down the roots you talkin’ ’bout with dat boy. We saw’d the love you girls held in dem eyes and we thought . .
. she thought . . . it was a beautiful thing. She gone up in Heaven,
knowing her baby girl was loved.”

I felt my head shake in disbelief. No. No. She didn’t know.
“No, Flossie. No. She didn’t know. Tell me she didn’t know.” My hand hurt with
the tension of my grip on the bottle.

“Aw hell, sis. She know’d you.” She squeezed my leg again and
followed it with a pat. “She was proud of you. It done her heart some kinda
good to know’d you found love. She wouldn’t want to see dis hurt back in yo’
eyes. I don’t know what happened between you two but if’n it can be fixed I
wanted you to know Addie was so damn proud of you. She loved you more than
anything on dis earth. Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna change dat.”

The chair could no longer hold me as I slid to the ground on my
knees. She met me there. My jeans became wet with the beer as it spilled from
the overturned bottle. Her arms engulfed me and held me tight against.

Brown sugar and honey.

Chapter 21

“I DO DECLARE, Charlie Grace, these here shrimp things are to die
for.” Nadine Thibodeaux had apparently found the pounds Charlie Grace had lost.
Seemingly, she wasn’t done with her additional poundage as she shoved the
coconut shrimp beignets in her mouth as fast as the server added them to her
plate. A drop of red pepper jelly hung to her bottom lip.

I looked around to see if anyone had taken notice. Grant was
texting on his phone, which he held under the table. Charlie Grace stared
blankly at the food in front of her. Jacques and Ned swirled their scotch and
sodas as they whispered to each other.

“I’m glad you like them, dear.” Charlie Grace
finally took notice. She used her napkin to dab at the corner of her own mouth.

Nadine brushed her fingers across her lip until the jelly fell
into her lap. “We need to write the name of these things down. They’d be good
horse whatever you call them for the wedding.”

I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. I caught Flossie’s snicker.
Yeah, I had rolled them.

As if to deliberately have the meal unlike anything we had
experienced before, Charlie Grace held it in the formal dining room instead of
the usual sun porch. The walls were a fresh coat of a deep merlot wine color
not unlike that within my glass. A wave of indigestion rolled across my stomach
with the thought of mixing the red wine with the several beers Flossie and I
had shared earlier in the day.

Charlie Grace gave the smile I had known for most of my life. Yet
this time I caught the shadow of the creases in her cheeks. “Yes, they would be
a good addition to the menu. We’ll need to try to finalize all of that before
too long. I’ll want to make sure I can reserve my chef.”

Ned downed his remaining scotch as the servers came to pick up his
and Jacques’s glasses. “Can’t let old scotch like that go to waste.” He looked
down at the bowl of butternut squash soup the server had placed in front of
him. “This is a fine spread you folks have invited us to.” He elbowed Grant.
“Ain’t it, son?”

Grant looked up quickly and nearly dropped his phone. “Oh yes,
Dad. It sure is. Thanks so much for inviting us to share Thanksgiving dinner
with you.”

“Nonsense, my boy.” Jacques blew on the hot soup as he brought a
spoonful to his mouth. “You’re practically family now.” He smiled at Charlie
Grace who nodded in return.

I looked away before I rolled my eyes again. Cora sat next to
Flossie with her two guests—her mile-high black volcano of hair and Harold
Whitehead. I was thankful the motif of the room had not included any type of
flamed candle. Harold sat upright with a stiffened spine. He was bald except
for the thickened beard and a ring of hair over his ears. His hair was starch
white, excluding his mustache and eyebrows which were quite similar to that of
Cora’s hair. Flossie was right. Cora was a ball of giggling nerves as she sat
next to the man she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from. Seemed the rolling of
the eyes was an epidemic in the room as I caught Flossie roll hers when Cora
placed Harold’s napkin in his lap. I let the knowing smile drag across my face
as Flossie glanced at me. She gave a guilty smile back.

The conversation over the next course of duck stuffed turkey
breast, braised greens, and oyster cornbread stuffing was muted with the
enjoyment of the meal. Small topics varying from school to the wedding filtered
in the air between us. I watched the controlled look on Grant’s face. He didn’t
give a hint to his plans of moving to New York. He sat and even conversed with
them of the town . . . of graduation . . . of the future. Never did his poker
face change to let on he wasn’t returning to the life they believed he would be
coming back to.

“I’ve found a grand location as you leave downtown going into the
Garden District.” Charlie Grace sipped the light red wine from the crystal
stemware she held in her hand. “It would be perfect for a dual practice. The
grounds are divine. There’s sufficient room for a decent parking area without
the need to lose the curb appeal of the property.”

Grant piled a bite of braised greens onto a small piece of turkey.
“It would be ideal if it were close to the hospital for on call days.”

Charlie Grace shook her head in agreement. “Oh yes. It’s a short
walk through the trees lining the back property. The trees provide a coverage
to show the façade of distance between the hospital. It was one of the
appealing factors that separated this property from the others I looked at.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your homework.” Grant shoved the prepared
bite into this mouth.

I watched him construct another bite onto his fork. It was the
perfect blend of greens, turkey, and stuffing. A combination of each dish
offered on his plate. I felt the nausea swirling in my gut. The perfect
blend of his own design. Had I become . . . we become not much more to him
than that bite? We were a carefully constructed plan. Was he going to leave his
family, my family, and the town oblivious to his true post-graduate ideas until
we too had been carefully designed? It was a side of him I had not seen before
but one I surely couldn’t deny since our car ride over.

“Well, son.” Ned stretched his back and slid down in the chair.
For a moment, I wondered if he had unbuttoned his pants to accommodate the
swelling in his belly. He had stopped the caterers twice already as they walked
by with the entrée dishes. “Since Charlie Grace opened the can of worms, I’m
going to put my two cents worth in. Me and your momma weren’t going to say
anything until it was closer to your hitching date but we’ve started clearing
the land out behind that field your grandpa used to farm. It’s right nice back
there. A piece away from us but close enough Nadine can watch them babies of
yours.”

Nadine squealed and clapped her hands, squeezing her large bosoms
together. “I sure can. You doctors can just drop them beautiful babies off
every single day. I’ll spoil ’em some kind of rotten before you take them
home.”

Babies?

Jacques chuckled, trying not to choke on the scotch he had sipped
from his fresh drink. “Between all of us those kids are going to be so rotten
they’ll smell.”

Nadine saw the dessert being brought into the room and pushed her
plate to the side. “Y’all aren’t going to want for a sitter. And just think of
all the weekends you’ll get to work on more babies when they stay over at our
house.”

Grant laughed. “They have surgeries for that now, Mom. But we can
still practice, eh, Rayne?”

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

The nausea turned into a sickening taste in
my mouth. I couldn’t believe I was sitting here listening to this. Flossie
across from me fidgeted with something in her lap. Jacques kept eating at the
remaining piece of turkey on his plate. Cora was practically spoon feeding
Harold. And here I sat wondering what in the hell was going on with this
conversation. I looked at Charlie Grace. Why, I have no idea but I did? The
smile on her face was the smirk I was accustomed to. It was what I saw most.
She sipped her wine and tipped it toward me. What? What is she saying? I
felt Grant’s hand on the top of my thigh and my knee hit the underside of the
table.

His look was controlling. His eyes were on the verge of stern.
“Isn’t that right, honey? But we’ve got a couple of years before we start
popping out kids.” His grip tightened and I looked up at him.

Honey? Popping out kids? Had some medical miracle occurred to where he was going to start
popping out kids? This would surely be news to me.

“Ned, I didn’t know you and Nadine were planning on the kids
building out on your land.” Charlie Grace used her fork to cut a bite off of
the pecan praline semifreddo. She spread the bite across the bourbon caramel
that had pooled around the bottom of the dessert but left the fork resting
across the plate.

“Yep, me and the missus been racking our brain, trying to figure
out what to get these lovebirds for their wedding present. Figured this would
be graduation and wedding all wrapped up.”

Not much one for dessert, Jacques folded his napkin onto the
plate. “I say we all take a drive out to the land tomorrow to take a look
around.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Jacques.” Grant shoved a loaded fork
into his mouth and wiped at the caramel dripping off of his lip.

My head snapped up. I could take no more of this. These lies of
omission Grant obviously found to be okay to leave on the table. Lies of
omission. The words stuck a chord and held heavy in my mind. I searched the
table again before landing on Flossie’s eyes as they held me. A simple nod was
all she gave me. It was all I needed—a simple nod from one who knew the tumult
soul beneath my shell.

Listen to the voices. Different but the same.

The table kept with its conversation. The voices became an unconscious understanding of mumbled words. The
massage of my fingertips against my temple didn’t quiet nor add
comprehension to the growing agitation of words around me. Words of lies of
omission grated on me like sandpaper on raw skin. Pain. Omission—I was no
better than the voice of Grant’s that was causing a cringe in my soul. Under
the table, I felt the edge of the diamond dig into my finger as I held it with
a tightened pinch. I was no better than Grant. I had fallen in love with a
woman. I had given my body all the pleasures I had for so long denied it in the
arms of another woman. Lies of omission that I could ever go back to a man’s
arms—to Grant’s arms.

“She know’d you. She loved you more than anything.” I heard Flossie’s
voice calling me to listen.

Mo’s face appeared so perfectly in my mind I
thought for a moment I could reach out to trace the bottom lip of the smile I
was being given. Sam’s tear-streaked face was a vision right behind hers. Then
with all the strength I needed, Meems with her blue eyes smiling at me . . .
loving me for who I was came into my sight.

Listen to the voices.

I pulled at the band of gold and stone until my finger was free of
it. Among the intermingling voices, I slowly brought my hand from under the
tablecloth. The gold snapped against the cloth-covered wood as I placed the
ring on the table.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I heard the flatness in my voice. I
heard the tone to its words.

No one stopped chattering.

A smile played at Flossie’s lips as she gave me another supportive
nod. “I’m right here. You can do this,” she mouthed.

I cleared my throat. “I said I can’t do this anymore.”

Charlie Grace blinked at me. “Can’t do what?”

Shit. I had their attention. Can’t do what—can’t marry Grant?
Can’t pretend I’m someone I’m not? Can’t do what, Rayne?

I lifted my hand from the table to reveal the jewelry hidden in my
palm. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

Grant stared at the ring on the table.

I caught his eyes as he looked away from the gold. “I can’t
pretend we want the same things anymore, Grant.”

His eyes closed for longer than a blink. He opened them and was no
longer looking at me.

I gently placed my hand on his arm. The rest of the room was silent.
“We’ve grown to want other things.” The rest of the truth could stay private
until the time we both saw fit to reveal it. This was not the time for me. Yet
I knew its time was closer than I had once thought. “We’ve grown to see a
different direction in our lives and I can’t pretend that isn’t there. I can’t
keep going down a path that sees us married when we both know in our hearts
we’ve grown to want different futures.”

He shook his head silently but didn’t look up.

“What on earth are you talking about, Rayne Amber?” Charlie Grace
asked, her voice laced with irritation.

Listen to the voices.

“Mother, this is between Grant and me.”

“It would seem we could argue that point as you are saying this in
front of all of us.”

“Charlie Grace.” Grant looked up at her. “It’s okay.” He held his
hand up as if to tell her he had the understanding to all of this.

“What?” Cora had awakened from her ogling over Harold. “It most
certainly is not okay. You can’t do this to yo’ poor momma. She needs this
wedding.”

Flossie turned to Cora. “Then you be giving her a wedding to plan.
Dis Rayne’s life not yo’s or her momma’s.”

“Wait a minute here. Let’s just wait a minute.” Nadine put her
fork down next to her plate. “What is happening here?”

“I believe our boy is getting dumped.” Ned reached over, grabbed
Jacque’s scotch and slammed the rest of its contents back.

“Mom . . . Dad . . . it’s nothing like that.” Grant’s voice was
calm if not emotionless. “Rayne and I have some things to be discussed. I don’t
think she is trying to say we are splitting up. We just have some things we
need to talk about.” He looked at me. “Right?”

Not the place. Not the time.

“We have many things we need to talk about. Yes.”

“Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of drama.” Charlie
Grace crumbled her napkin into a ball and tossed it across her plate. “Must the
attention always center on you that we can’t have a decent meal with friends
and family without it being about you?”

“Drama?” Had she just called me dramatic? “I’m dramatic. I’m the one
demanding attention? You walk around here snapping at everyone. Changing every
single tradition about our Thanksgiving all on your own and I’m the one who is
ruining our holiday?”

“Well pardon me for not living up to your standards.” Charlie
Grace stood from the table.

I followed. “Are you kidding me right now? As if you’ve ever shown
me I lived up to yours?”

Jacques stood up and waved his hands between us. “Now . . . now .
. . let’s take a breather.” He put his hand on Charlie Grace’s shoulder.
“Honey, sit down. Let’s not do this right now. It’s Thanksgiving.”

Her stare didn’t falter. Her gaze burned through me. “I’m fine and
will not be manhandled thank you very much,” she said through gritted teeth as
she shrugged his hand from her shoulder. “Let’s have it. Let’s all hear about
how I’ve wronged you as a mother. How you’re breaking this man’s heart,
throwing all of the hard work we have put into establishing a future for you
here in our faces because of me being a failure as a mother. Let’s hear it, Rayne.
You think you could hurt me anymore at this point?”

Hurt you? How have I hurt you?

I felt the caress of a hand within mine and realized Flossie had
come to stand by me. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s let dis breathe for a minute.”
She led me from the table.

“Oh sure, Flossie. Take over where mom left off.”

“Not like dis, Charlie Grace.” Flossie’s voice was as tender as
the eyes that held Charlie Grace. “Not here. Not like dis.” She softly shook
her head as she led me into the kitchen.

I heard chair legs scrape across the hardwood floor as Charlie
Grace said, “Happy Thanksgiving everyone.”

“What just happened?” Nadine’s was the last voice I heard before
Flossie had me outside on the back porch.

“Well . . . that was a complete disaster.”

“Come on, sis. I gots something to sho’ you.” Flossie’s hand was
soft with the thinness of her skin over the prominent bones in her hand.
“Thinkin’ this may make you feel better.”

She led me around the corner of the house to the circle drive. A
full moon’s light reflected off of the faded yellow paint of Memaw’s Silverado
pickup truck. My knees buckled with surprise and sadness. Meems.

“Flossie? How?”

“Old fart left’n for me.” Her smile was edged with grief. “Dat
lawyer, you know the one dat read her will, gave me the keys and a note in her
scribble. All’n she put on dat paper was ‘get outta dat damn home.’ I do it
too. I drive dis piece a junk around for her.”

She walked to the driver’s door and opened it for me. In the
stillness of the night, the horrendous screech sounded for miles. A
light-hearted laugh tickled my heart before it escaped my mouth. I let the
smile play upon my lips as I traced the vinyl bench seat with my hand.

“I didn’t think I would see this truck again. I’ve wondered what
happened to it but I was scared to know the answer. I guess I thought Mother
had it taken to the wrecking yard to be sold for scrap.”

Flossie dropped the keys in my hand and I swear she skipped around
the front of the truck to climb into the passenger seat. I sat in the seat and
ran my hand along the narrow steering wheel, letting my fingers slide over the
notches along the back. The cold vinyl seat quickly cooled the back of my legs
as my blue jeans were little barrier for the November chill that had dropped
the temperature twenty degrees from earlier in the day. The sound of the engine
caused another ripple of happiness to course through me. I pushed the levers of
the thermostat to the right which released the smell of heat into the cab. I
pulled the knob on the bottom left of the dashboard and smiled at the
headlights shining across the yard. Meems was here. She lifted my soul . . .
lifted my spirits. She was here. I let my forehead rest against the wheel once
held in her hands. Deep breaths filled my lungs.

“Let’s take her for a spin,” Flossie said as she rubbed my back.

Chapter 22

“HI.”

“Hi, yourself.”

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Are you sure you want that?” Mo said as she straddled across my
waist. She leaned her back against my legs when I bent them behind her. “I mean
I sort of thought you liked meeting like this.” She raised up off of my legs
and let her fingers travel down my bare stomach. “Or so it seemed into the
early hours of this morning.”

My tongue ran across the sore spot at the corner of my lower lip
as I remembered her surprise knock at the door. She had hardly waited for the
taxi to pull away before taking my breath with a kiss filled with passionate
need. We had not made it further than the couch before she had me undressed and
totally surrendered to her control.

She touched the break in the skin my tongue had roamed over. She
made a face of remorse. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“I am. I didn’t mean to bite you.” She placed a small kiss at the
corner of my lip and whispered, “I just needed those clothes off so bad but I
couldn’t stop kissing you.”

Butterflies swarmed across my belly when I
remembered her teeth biting into my lip. “I’m serious . . . don’t be. It was
ummmmm.”

She gave me a mischievous smile. “It was ummmmm what?”

“I’ll show you what.” I pulled her lips to mine and kissed her
with the matching intensity she had given me the night before.

“Oh, that?”

“Yes . . . that.” I unzipped the leather at the waist of her
jacket. “I like this outfit you’ve got going on here.”

“Well, I had to put something on to call and order the pizza.”

“I’m not sure if a leather jacket and,” I slipped my finger
underneath the waist band of her black boy cut briefs, “these constitutes
putting something on.”

“Would you like for me to put something else on?”

I kissed the tattoo at her wrist and traced my tongue over the
ink. “Oh, I didn’t say that.”

She started to slip her arm from the jacket. “Would you like for
me to take some of this off?”

I put my hand on her arm. “Oh, I didn’t say
that either.” I dropped my hand to rove the exposed skin between her breasts
and down her belly to her right hip. “How about you stay just like that.”

The muscles of her belly tightened as I trailed my fingertip along
the musical notes leading over the side of her hip. “How much time do we have
until the pizza gets here?”

Her breath was shallow and rapid through parted lips. Her eyes
were filled with desire as she guided my hand to where she needed it most.
“Enough.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she gave herself to me . . .
as she let me watch what my touch did to her body. It was so open, so exposed
and raw to let me see all she felt. My heart beat wildly against my chest. I
didn’t need her to touch me as I couldn’t have felt more had her hands been on
me.

She let me hold her with my eyes . . . with
my hands . . . with my body until she collapsed next to me, struggling to catch
her breath. “Holy . . . cow.” She labored to slow her breaths. “That . . . was
. . . incredible.” She bent her arm over her forehead. “Give . . . me . . . a
second . . . to catch . . . my . . . breath.”

The knock on the door was loud and we both jumped.

I laughed. “Take your time.” I stood up to put on a robe.

She attempted to reach for my body but her hand plopped down on
the bed. “Yes, I need sustenance.”

I skipped down the hallway, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll be
back and then you really are in trouble.”

“Someone call an ambulance.”

Thankfully both a twenty and a five dollar bill lay on the table
next to the door, saving the need for change or further delay from climbing
back into bed with Mo. “Here you go. Keep the change,” I said as I slung the
door open.

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Why on earth are you still in
your robe?” Charlie Grace stood at the door.

“Mother?”

“Why are you still in bed this late in the afternoon? Were you on
call last night?” She started to step inside the door but stopped when I hadn’t
moved away for her entrance. She gripped the leather strap of her purse that
hung over her shoulder. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Mother? What are you doing here? And no I wasn’t on call last
night.”

She stepped back on her heels. “Our phone calls have been sparse,
short, and tense since Thanksgiving. I was hoping we could talk face to face.
Perhaps over a day of Christmas shopping. Grant told me when I talked with him
that you weren’t on call so I was hoping my timing would be good.”

“This isn’t a good time.”

There’s a half dressed Mo in my bed.
This really isn’t a good time.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up. Where are you
staying?”

Charlie Grace took a side step to reveal a small suitcase that had
been hidden behind her.

“Oh?”

Shit.

“I can go find a hotel if you don’t want me staying here.”

Shit.

“No, I didn’t say that. I just . . . you’ve never stayed here
before so I assumed this was no different.”

“I think we could use the time. Don’t you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean yes. Just let me think for a
second.” I held my hand in the air in a failed attempt to hold onto anything
that would steady my jerking knees.

“Think?”

“I’m starving over here. Wear a girl out and then hold food from
her. So wrong.”

NO!

Charlie Grace’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

I winced at the sight flashing before my eyes of Mo dressed in
leather and cotton briefs. Surely that was the sight causing the look on
Charlie Grace’s face.

“Er . . .” A young man carrying a pizza box walked up behind
Charlie Grace. His face was flushed and his neck was reddening. “I’ve got a
pizza deliver here.” He reached around the stone statue that was my mother.

I placed the palms of my hands firmly against my eyes and pushed
in with force in the hopes of blocking out the scene that was playing out in
front of me. Nope. Everyone still stood in place. My only assumption was Mo was
as frozen behind me as the two in front of me.

I took the box from the boy and handed him the folded bills. “Keep
the change.”

He scurried away without another word.

Charlie Grace blinked before she looked back and forth between my
face and the one that must have been over my right shoulder. “Rayne, there’s a
half dressed woman standing behind you.” She looked back at me. “And you’re
hardly dressed yourself.”

All I could do was step aside to allow her in and hopefully close
the door before my neighbors saw the chaos unfold before them. “I suppose you
should come inside, Mother.”

“I’m not sure I want to do that now.” Her fingers whitened as her
fist tightened on the purse strap.

“You’re not one for scenes, Mother. Please let’s not change that
now.”

She pursed her lips as she stepped pass me, leaving the overnight
bag at the door. I wheeled the bag inside, closed the door, and turned. Mo’s
outfit, which had caused a much different reaction in the pit of my stomach,
was now the highlight of the scene that could very well be the collapse of my
life as a known straight woman. I leaned the bag against the wall and came to
stand between Charlie Grace and Mo as they gazed at each other.

“I’m going to go get dressed.” Mo’s voice cracked.

“Yes, I think that would be a novel idea, young lady.”

“Mother,” I said sternly and then looked back at Mo. “I’ve got
this. Why don’t you go back to the bedroom?”

“Back to the bedroom. What the hell is going on here,
Rayne?” Charlie Grace let her purse fall with a thud to the floor.

Mo looked between us before retreating down the hallway into the
back room.

“Mother, please calm down. Let’s talk.”

“Talk? You want to talk?”

“Yes, I would like to talk. Can we go sit down?” I pointed to the
sofa in the living area.

“No we cannot sit down. There is a half-naked woman in your
apartment. A half-naked woman that obviously knows her way to your bedroom. And
more importantly it seems you’re just as naked as she is.”

“Can we get off the subject of our clothing
and onto why you pop in on me since we’ve barely talked in the last couple of
weeks?”

“I don’t see that as being the topic at hand, no.”

“This is my home. I’m a grown woman. I can live and do in my own
home as I wish. You came unannounced.”

“Oh, please excuse my ill manners. I didn’t know I had to call and
ask my daughter permission to come see her.” She put her hand over her chest as
if she was appalled I had made such an accusation.

“Don’t get dramatic.”

“Me? Me get dramatic? Look at your hair.” She flipped my bangs
between her fingers before I could move my head out of her reach.

“Don’t do that.”

“Well, look at it. You cut it so short and then bleach these
ridiculous looking highlights. Is that her? Is that her influence?” She pointed
down the hallway to the closed bedroom door.

“I can wear my hair however I want.” I tightened the loosening
robe around my waist. It was that or slam my hand down on the table in front of
us, which would have given her a real reason to call me the dramatic one. I
would not give her that pleasure. This was my house—my life.

“Is Miss I-don’t-wear-clothes the reason you called off your
engagement? Does Grant know about her?”

“No, she isn’t actually and no he doesn’t. Couldn’t you give me a
little credit that maybe he isn’t being completely honest here. That maybe he
isn’t an innocent victim. That maybe all of this is not entirely my fault.
Every time I called you all you could do was say how I hurt him. How this was
all of my fault. Have you ever considered maybe there is more to this story?”

“You are sleeping with a woman, Rayne Amber Storm. Please tell me
how you can twist this around to be anything but a result of your own actions
and therefore entirely your fault.”

“Whatever, Mother.”

“I’m sorry, this is somehow Grant’s fault? Or
hey better yet, maybe you can turn this around to being a result of my bad
mothering.”

I let my back fall into the opposite wall of the hallway. “I
didn’t say that. I never said that. This is me. This is who I am and who I’ve
always been.”

“Who you are? So, you’re gay all of a sudden?”

“Not all of a sudden.”

“So little Miss Hot-to-trot is going to be my son-in-law? Is that
what you’re saying? You hear that little Miss Hot-to-trot.” She raised her
voice. “Are you going to be my son-in-law now?” She started to walk down the
hallway toward the bedroom.

I grabbed her arm above her elbow to stop her. “Leave her alone,
Mother. She has nothing to do with me and you or even Grant. She never tried to
come between us or ask me to make any changes where he was concerned.”

“Oh, she just fucked you.”

I felt my eyes widen to the callous tone of her foul language. I
couldn’t remember a time I had heard her ever use that word before. Much less
did I ever imagine she would use it in such a way toward me.

“Well, that makes it all the better doesn’t it?” Just as quickly
as the vulgarity had flown, she returned to the southern belle accent and tone.

“I think you need to go.”

She picked up her purse and gave me the hardest look I had
received from her eyes. “Yes, I think I should.”

SEVERAL MINUTES PASSED before I could walk into the bedroom. I
hated the fact Mo had not only been a witness to Charlie Grace’s worse side but
she had also had a portion of it directed at her.

“You’re not staying?”

Mo looked up from her duffle bag. “I think it would be best if I
didn’t. Don’t you?” She turned back to the bag and shoved a pair of folded
jeans into it.

“Actually, no. I don’t.” I leaned against the doorjamb. “I was
hoping you would stay.”

Mo stopped her packing and sat hard on the edge of the bed.
“Rayne, that was a bit much you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I want to be here when she gets back.”

“She won’t come back.”

“Ha. I somehow don’t think all of that is over yet.”

“Oh no. It’s not.” The crumbled white linen behind her was a sore
reminder of the time we had lost with Charlie Grace’s surprise visit. Even
without her consciously knowing, she was playing a hand in the demise of Mo and
me. “She’ll wait for me to come to her. She won’t come back here.” She won’t
have to.

Mo bent over to put on a sock. “I’ve never really had to deal with
the whole parent issue.” She put the other sock on over her toes. “Mine were
gone before my being a lesbian was an issue and well.” She ran her thumb
underneath the band of the sock and patted the side of her leg.

“You’ve never been the girlfriend type to have to deal with it
before either.”

Mo sat straight up but looked at the wall instead of me. “No, I
haven’t.”

I sat next to her on the bed. “I’m not asking you to be my
girlfriend or do any of what you just saw because of me. You know that, right?”

“I know.” She traced her fingers down the finger recently bare of
the white gold engagement ring. “This never bothered me. I mean it didn’t
change us.”

“I know.” I kicked at her duffle bag with my big toe. “And it
doesn’t have to change us now.”

“Did you do it for me? Break off your engagement because of me?
Because of what you wanted or hoped would become of us?”

“Well.” I leaned back on my elbows. “Not because of you per say
but in a sense because of this.” I motioned between us. “A part of the reason
is because of the feelings I have when I’m with you. I knew with S . . . I knew
before that I was a lesbian. Knew but didn’t accept.” I slid my hand across the
comforter to rest on top of hers. “With you, I accepted.”

She sat there—motionless.

I brought my hand tighter over the top of hers and let her fingers
fill my palm. “Mo?”

Motionless.

“I don’t want you to go.” I squeezed her hand with each word to
emphasize my deepest desire for her not to leave in this moment or in the ones
to follow.

The painful tug at my heart was beyond evident with the way her
hand didn’t turn to hold mine. It was in that moment I knew definitively she
meant more to me than a physical answer to a long sought out question. She had
gotten in. Not to the degree Sam had found her way to my heart, but in
nonetheless. I dared not tell her it was more than sex to me. I dare not
tell her I had grown deep feelings for her. Not now.

Instead I continued to plead with her. “Mo?
Please. Please stay.”

Mo’s expression said everything. It was more than her leaving the
moment. She was leaving the situation. She was leaving me.

“You’re not just leaving today are you? You’re
leaving . . . leaving.”

She stood from the bed and turned her back to
me. “Rayne. I . . .” She walked across the room to sit on the floor next to her
boots. She slipped on a boot, pulled the laces tight but left them untied. “I’m
not girlfriend material. It’s not who I am. I never asked you to be anyone
other than who you were. You can’t . . . it’s not right for you to ask that of
me?”

“Did I say that was what I wanted from you?”

“No, but look at everything. You cancelled your engagement. And
now you have to deal with your mother. Just think about what is down the pike
for you. This is the tip of the iceberg.” She tugged tightly at the laces again
and then tied them in a bow. She pulled her jeans leg back over the boot and
played with the hem. “You’ll look to me for support. You’ll want me to be here.
You know I never stay long in one place.”

I knelt in front of her feet. “Mo, I’m a big girl who can take
care of herself. I’m not asking you to do anything but keep it . . . keep us
like we are.”

She said nothing nor looked up at me. She pulled at her other
pants leg to slide the other boot on.

I placed my hands on her bent knees as she worked with the laces
of the boot. “I’m not asking for us to grow into anything. I’m not asking us to
change at all. You go and come as you do. We get together when you’re in town.
That’s all. I’m not asking you to be anything other than what you want to be.”

“You’ll want more,” she said under her breath. “They always want
more.”

A stinging reminder of the women who had shared time with her
before me. I swallowed hard. “Then shame on me if I do but we’ll cross that
bridge when we get to it.”

She rested her chin and cheek on her hand as she propped her elbow
on her knee. I was lost in the whirl of emotions in her eyes. She cared more
than she wanted. I saw it there.

“Mo?” I traced her chin with my finger. “Meredith? Please. I’m
begging you.”

She raised her eyes and focused over my shoulder instead of
keeping our eyes connected.

“I’m here. I’m right here telling you I want
from you no more than you’re wanting to give me. I won’t push. I won’t pull you
into anything you don’t want.” I leaned my head to the side, trying to force
her eyes to meet mine. “You have never . . . not once asked anything of me.
Never asked me to change or be more than I was ready for. That made me so
comfortable to be around you. So at ease to be myself. All I am asking for is a
chance to be that for you.”

She stretched her hand up to brush the bangs from my eyebrows.
“That’s all I ever wanted you to be.”

“And that’s all I want you to be with me. Don’t you see?”

“I didn’t say you would ask me to do anything. In fact, I don’t
think you ever will. But what if . . . what if I care so much for you that I
want to be there for you? And then what if I fail you at the moment you start
to depend on me? I don’t think I could take it. You’re more than sex to me,
Rayne. That alone was something I was having a hard time dealing with but this?
This with your mom and the changes going on in your life. With this I know I’m
in over my head. I’ll only disappoint you.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t. I’ll take whatever you can give
me. Just like you did of me.”

She brought our lips together, softly taking
my bottom lip between hers. Her tongue was timid against mine. Her kiss was
gentle. The passion it once held was gone from her lips. It was goodbye.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly against my lips. “I can’t.”

I followed her to the door but knew I couldn’t kiss her again. I
couldn’t feel the last of her lips upon mine, knowing they were to be the last
of our shared kiss. She didn’t try either. I watched her shoulders rise and
fall in a deep sigh before she stepped fully out of the door. She kept her back
to me as she walked down the driveway, carrying her large duffle bag across her
shoulder. She didn’t look back when she climbed into the cab nor did she look
out of the window as it drove away.

Crack.

Chapter 23

THE QUINTESSENTIAL CHARLIE Grace had not answered calls nor texts
after she left the apartment. I suppose my own stubbornness prevented me from
leaving a voicemail. I dared not leave a message that she could play over and
over as a way of holding something over my head. I could only hope time away
from me . . . from the truth of me was giving her the clarity she sought. Or
perhaps it was the calm after the storm she yearned to master. No matter which
it was, she was not responding. Which was why I knew it wasn’t her knocking at
the door hours later. She would never take the first step. Not Charlie Grace.
The knock became persistent . . . nearly recognizable.

Mo?

I almost tripped over the back of the couch on my way to the door.
She had come back. She didn’t want to see our end any more than I wanted it. I
knew there was more behind her eyes than what her words were telling me.

I pulled open the door. “Mo, I’m so glad you
came back. I know we can work this out.” Hand still on the knob, I stared,
frozen.

Grant stood in the doorway. He was solemn and had quite visible tear-stained
cheeks. They shimmered under the glow of the porch light. His shoulders were
taut as if he was desperately trying to hide the sobbing. He looked as if
inward sobs were threatening his body to collapse at the doorway. Yet he left
his feet firmly planted on the door mat. They were the cement to keep his
statue preserved.

“Is it true?” He lowered his head. He made no
attempt to come in.

Dammit, Charlie Grace!

“Grant, please come in.”

“God dammit, Rayne! I asked you if it was true!” His eyelids were
lowered over his eyes as he squared his look at me.

With a shaky hand, I reached for him. “Please come in. Let’s talk
inside. Please.”

He followed the pull of my hand but let his feet drag across the
door frame as he stepped inside. The door closed behind him, and he collapsed
against it, weeping. The back of his head rested against the wood.

“Rayne, please tell me it isn’t true,” he said in a rough, broken
voice. “Please, God. Tell me you love me. Tell me it isn’t what she saw.”

I had never seen him cry . . . never like this. In fact, I
couldn’t remember a time I had seen a man give in to the emotions that would
cause tears such as these. My reserve, my strength was mangled right along with
him. I let my own tears flow. I cried for all of the things building inside of
me: the stress of finally accepting who I was, watching the look of disgust on
Mother’s face when she too saw who I was, following the woman who had helped me
not only accept being a lesbian but also made me feel okay with it, and now standing
across from a man who would be, at least in the short term, destroyed by the
realization of what I had hidden for so long. The tears, strong as they might
be, weren’t enough to blur the vision of the man hurting at my own doings. A
man I did truly love. There was a distinct difference between being in love and
loving. I loved him and feared I always would. Yet I knew I would never love
him the way he wished I did.

“I do love you, Grant. I do.” My voice matched his. “I’m so, so
sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“So you fuck her behind my back?” He slid down the door onto the
floor. “What, Rayne? What? Are you like gay with her or something? Or was this
like some college sowing wild oats thing?” The anger of betrayal was evident in
his tone. Anger that was surely spurred by his hurt. “What did I do wrong?” he
said barely above a whisper.

I knelt down in front of him. “Grant ,
please, let’s not do this . . . not like this. You didn’t do anything wrong.
It’s not you, don’t you see. It’s me. This is all me.”

He didn’t look up to meet my eyes. “What does it mean? Is it over?
I mean I know you cancelled the engagement but I thought that was because of
New York. I thought New York was what you meant when you were saying we wanted
different lives. I thought it was only about New York.”

I slid around him to sit next to him against the door. “I have
always felt something inside. Something that I couldn’t explain to anyone, even
myself.” I rested my head against the hard wood of the door. “I had no idea
what that meant until I met her.” I knew he would think the woman Charlie Grace
had reported to him and that was fine by me. “I never meant for it to
happen like this. I swear to you. I was looking for answers without truly
knowing I had questions.”

“Is any part of it because of New York? Because you were mad at me
for wanting to go there instead of home.”

“What? No.”

“Because I don’t have to go, Rayne.” He looked at me with hurt
behind his eyes. The tears were building again. “I won’t go. We won’t go. If it
means losing you, I’ll go back to Louisiana with you. I’ll do anything. Just
tell me what to do.”

“No.” I put my hand on his forearm but felt his muscle twitch to
my touch. I let my hand fall back onto my lap. “It’s not that. It’s not New
York. And why? Why would you do that to keep us together? A couple . . . a
loving couple . . . would want each other to live their dreams.” I rubbed my
moistened palm against my jeans as I tried to carefully choose my words. “We
grew, Grant. We grew into different people. We weren’t expecting to find the
directions we found but they are here and we can’t deny it. Now that we see the
paths in front of us, we can’t look away to pretend they aren’t there.”

We sat in silence, only broken by sniffing as we let our tears
fall.

“So then this is it. We’re over?” He sniffled again. “I mean is
this it or are you still trying to figure things out? Do I even have a chance
anymore?” He turned to rest his side against the door. “Are you sure you’re
gay?” His eyes searched my face. He lifted his hands off of his lap but quickly
let them fall again. “We could have such a good life together. You and me . . .
we could have it all. Careers. Family. Life.” He looked down. “What if,” he
said softly, “what if we still stayed together? What if I overlooked your . . .
you know . . . when you wanted to be with a woman? What if we just didn’t talk
about it?” He kept his face down, staring into his lap.

I shook his ideas from my thoughts. “Grant.”
He didn’t look back at me and I wasn’t going to force it. “No, Grant. No. We
can’t do that. We shouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.”

“And this is?” The hurt and anger built in his voice again. “How
is this fair?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t. I hate it happened this way.
I tried so hard to not let this be who I am that I pretended to be someone
else.”

“So why can’t you just keep pretending.”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why? You can have your time with your . . . friends. It
doesn’t have to ruin us. You can have your time. You know, to do what it is you
need to do and we can still have us.” He turned to bury his head against my
chest. I felt the dampness of his tears soak through my shirt. “Rayne, I love
you so much. You have to love me too. You just have to.” He wrapped his arms
around me so tightly I feared I wouldn’t be able to take another breath.

“I do love you, Grant. I do love you so much and I will always
love you.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “But I don’t love you the way you
deserve. You deserve more.”

He pulled away from me abruptly. “I just don’t see why we can’t
keep going the way we have been. I didn’t force you to be with me. You know
like that. I didn’t force sex on you. Why can’t we forget all of this
happened?”

“You don’t mean that. You don’t. I want more.
I want more for me . . . for you.” I took in a deep breath, hoping he would
understand and feel the same as me. “And you should want more too.”

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth
several times. “I just . . .” He lifted his head but then quickly let it fall back
against the door. “I just want to be happy again. Feel like everything is going
to be alright again. Feel like I actually know what the hell is going on in my
life.”

“Grant?”

He blinked but kept staring straight ahead.

I put my hand on his leg. “You can have all of that. You have a
great opportunity in New York. You were really excited about it before all of
this. Why not feel that again? Why not follow your dream?”

“I thought we would do it together.”

“But it was never my dream.”

He stood and brushed the back of his blue jeans off. He stared
down at me for several seconds. “Did I ever know you? Did I ever really
know you?” He pointed at my chest.

“Yes.” I stood up next to him as he put his hand on the door knob.
“Yes, you did and still do know me. We’ve grown in different directions. I’m
holding on to that. We can still find a relationship between us that fits the
people we are now.”

He turned away from me. “You’ve destroyed me,” he said as he
walked out of the apartment.

Fissure.

Chapter 24

“HEY, YOU.” JAZLYN’S voice was muffled by something in her mouth.
“I was just thinking about you.” A rather loud crunch followed. “What’s up?”

“Besides a shattered ear drum, you mean?”

She laughed. “Sorry. I’m starving. The club is crazy tonight. Mo’s
surprised us tonight and the place is packed.”

Mo. I don’t know why I thought she would go anywhere else but the
club.

I felt my heart sink at the sound of her name. With all the other
happenings, I’d been able to keep from being consumed by thoughts of her. I had
realized my feelings for Mo were growing the more time I spent with her but I
didn’t fully appreciate the depth of them until I watched her walk away. If I
had thought it would have done any good, I would have chased after her. I would
have grabbed a hold of that damn duffle bag and pulled her back into my
apartment. But the look in her eyes had told me she was leaving no matter my
words or my actions.

Another loud crunch followed. “I kept waiting for her to take a
break after her first set but she’s like a machine tonight. She went right into
another one without a break.” This time the crunch was somewhat subdued by the
sound of paper ruffling in the background. “Do you wanna come over? I’ll buy
you a drink?”

“No.” I pulled my knees up against my chest as I sat against the
headboard of the bed. “I’m actually not in town tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you?”

“Louisiana.”

“Aw. Going home?”

“Yes.” I was a basket case filled with anger, sadness, and
confusion. I was heartbroken by the pain I continued to cause those in my life.
A basket case that needed to talk out my feelings with my friend—the one
constant in my life. Yet, here I sat on the other end of the phone not knowing
how to even begin to open up to her. How could I, without exposing Mo and me? I
had overheard Jazlyn ask Mo not to start anything with me. Had Mo kept us a
secret from her and if so, was it my right at all to betray her?

“So . . . Mo’s there?” Well, that sounded completely idiotic.

“Yeah. I didn’t know she was coming into town this weekend. She
showed up on my door this afternoon.”

“Oh.” I pulled the pillow next to me across my chest and hugged it
tightly. “How is she?”

“Mo?”

“Yes. Mo.”

The pause seemed like an eternity as I waited for her to finish
swallowing her drink. “She’s okay.” She took another drink. “She’s worried
about you but otherwise okay. Now she’s lost in that damn booth.”

“She’s worried about me?”

“Mmmmm Hmmmm. Are we going to keep pretending I don’t know what’s
going on?”

“So . . . you know?”

“I do.”

“Oh, Jazlyn . . . I need to talk to you so bad but didn’t know if
I could. If Mo had told you . . . told you about. . .” I hesitated still not
knowing what all she knew.

“About you and Mo?”

“Yes, that.”

I heard another crunch in my ear and momentarily wondered what in
the hell she was eating. If it was an apple, then surely she must almost be
done. But if it was carrot sticks or celery, I was done for.

“What has happened between you and Mo is between you two. You’re
both my very best friends and two of the most incredible women I’ve been
blessed to know. I’ll respect you both and let you work it out while I don’t
get in the middle. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good.”

“Now tell me about your mom. Mo said it was a very compromising
position that she walked in on.”

“You could say that again.”

“Are you okay?” An apple. It must’ve been an apple because
the loud crunching had finally ceased.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” I pulled at the corners of the pillow
as I told Jazlyn the whole story. The parts Mo had missed. It felt good to be
able to tell someone all of my fears without feeling judgment on the other end
of the line. Jazlyn truly was my very best friend.

“I don’t get why she would do that.” Jazlyn’s voice was muffled by
more paper rattling. “I think I’m in shock.”

“You don’t know Charlie Grace. Nothing shocks me anymore.”

“I mean it’s one thing for her to come into your home and act that
way but it’s something else altogether to tell Grant. I mean, dude, she
completely outed you. It was up to you to tell Grant or anyone. Not her.”

“Again . . . you don’t know Charlie Grace. I wouldn’t be surprised
if everyone knows by now. I’m sure her phone has been hot in her hand on her
drive back home. She will need to rally the troops to support her in her
heartbreak.”

“Is that why you’re home?”

“I’m not there yet. Stopped over at a hotel for the night. I
didn’t want to face this in the middle of the night. But, yeah, that and I need
to face her. I need to get this talked out. I can’t function in anything with
this looming over us. Not at the hospital . . . not studying . . . not
anything.”

“I get that. And Grant . . . what will he do?” I could tell she
was talking around another bite in her mouth. She really must have been hungry.

“I have no idea. I imagine not much of anything as far as telling
people. He isn’t really one to discuss his feelings. He hardly talked to me
about any of his thoughts before all of this. I think I always wondered if he
didn’t have any or if he just didn’t want to talk about them. But I doubt he
will be too anxious for everyone to know. He’ll most likely think it will be
taken as a reflection on him. Gawd, Jazlyn, I hurt him so bad. I just can’t
even let myself feel that part.”

“Then don’t. Baby steps my friend. Baby steps. You’ve got to take
one step at a time. First your mother. Then you’ll decide where to go from
there.”

A thought flashed. “Oh dear Lord, Nadine.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Nadine. Grant’s mother.” A wave of anxiety washed over me. “I had
completely forgotten about her. I was only thinking about the wrath of Charlie
Grace. Hell, if she doesn’t tell the whole town Nadine sure will. She’ll want
to have a good reason to take the blame off of Grant for our break-up. I’m not
looking forward to talking to her.”

“The pros and cons of family I suppose. Geez, it’s not like it’s
hard enough to come out but damn, girl . . . you’ve got to come out to the
world within days of coming out to yourself.”

“Feels much like that.”

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“You’ve got this.” Her mouth was full again. “You know that?
You’ve got this,” she said with a strength that seemed to carry across the
distance between us. “I’ve got all of the faith in the world in you, my friend.
You’re one of those women I admire. You’ve got this incredible strength in you.
A strength in you that you don’t even realize. Once you tap into it, you are
going to be a force, let me tell you.”

“Thank you.” I felt a hint of what she described and let myself
collapse into it. “You’re my best friend. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you,” she took another bite, “you’ll never have to find
out.”

“Good God, woman . . . what are you eating? The whole
refrigerator?”

She laughed. “Pretty much. I told you I was starving.”

“I believe you.” I set the pillow I had been clutching next to me
and slipped my body down into the comfort of the bed. I had to try to find some
form of sleep before I faced the fury which awaited me a short two hours’ drive
away. “Hey, Jazlyn?”

“Mmmmm hmmmm.”

“Is Mo really okay? Charlie Grace was a real bitch to her.”

“She’s fine and trust me . . . she’s had worse in her life.”

“Maybe so, but not in front of me and not by
my mother’s hands.”

“She’s okay. I’ll tell her you asked about her and that we
talked.”

“I didn’t want her to leave, Jazlyn. I really didn’t.”

She was quiet for a minute. The sigh I heard her express seemed to
tell me more than her words did because all she said was, “I know.”

Was she sighing for me? For Mo? Or maybe . . . for both of us?

Chapter 25

“WELCOME TO BRENNIN Louisiana. The friendly city.” The letters
were written in a semi-circle over the picture of a fleur-de-lis. The hum of my
Jeep engine was the only sound I heard in the silence of the morning. I hadn’t
intended to get out of the Jeep when I pulled off of the road but I felt my
strength wavering when I saw the sign. It marked the entrance into the place I
had once found to be a breath of air into my lungs. It represented a happiness
of home which filtered into my nasal passages as pure oxygen gifted solely to
me. Now it was tainted by a sourness tinged with bitterness as to the wonder of
what would be in the place I called home—not just the home I had grown up in
but the home in the town. The town itself was as much my home as the one where
Charlie Grace awaited me. The brick-laid streets of downtown were like my
playground. The eclectic shops were like my bedroom. The bayou and the
outskirts of town were my toys. And the people . . . the people . . . all of
them were my family. How much of this would change today? How much if any would
stay the same? Would it continue to be the friendly city to me? A lump formed
in my throat as I let my forehead fall to rest against the cold metal of the
road sign.

“I wondered when you would be here.” Jacques was sitting alone in
a rocking chair on the expansive front porch. A coffee cup rested on the
rocker’s arm. Steam floated from the cup’s rim into the crisp December air.

I sat in the chair next to him. “You knew I was coming.”

“Figured but didn’t know.”

“Does she?”

He blew into the cup before taking a swallow. “I’m not sure but
probably.”

“Jacques?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Do you hate me?”

He stopped the rocker firmly in place and looked at me. “What? No.
Why on earth would I hate you?”

“Disgusted by me then?”

He bent over the arm of the chair to put his cup on the concrete
and stood in front of me with his arms spread wide. “Sweet girl . . . I could
never hold anything but love for you and never, ever disgust.”

I rose quickly to be consumed by his arms. I cried into his chest
as he held me tightly against him.

“You’re my daughter, Rayne. There’s nothing you could ever do to
change that. There’s nothing you could ever do that would lessen the love I
feel for you.” He slowly rocked me in his arms and didn’t lessen his hold until
my tears slowed and I regained my composure.

I pulled away to look him in the eyes but remained in the comfort
of his arms. “So how bad is it going to be in there?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.”

“Oh about . . .” He pretended to think. “A hundred and ten.” He
smiled and returned to his rocker. “Might as well bite the bullet.”

I found her in the kitchen. Her back was to me as she stared out
the window. Her breaths were rhythmic and steady. Her arms were relaxed across
the kitchen sink. I watched her for several minutes before I let my presence be
known. There was an absence in the air. One I had not come to recognize in
Mother’s kitchen. I’d recognized silence before. The eerie silence where there
wasn’t a sound carried in the air. The calm of a day or night when not a sound
was heard . . . not a breeze rustling leaves, nor an insect’s call or a bird’s
song. I’d heard that silence before. This was a silence of scent in a kitchen
known for its smells of cooking, baking, or simply brewed coffee. There was
nothing in the air. Nothing tickled the nasal passages.

“Hello, Mother.”

Her back stiffened yet she remained facing the window.

“Mother, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Well for starters about what you saw at my apartment. About me.
About Grant. Why did you do that? Why did you tell him?”

“Did you not think he deserved to know?” Her voice was calm, flat,
and without emotion. I wondered if she had always been callous like this.
Surely it wasn’t genetic as I had not been equipped with such a talent. Neither
did I remember Memaw having such a measured insensitive composure as what
Charlie Grace exhibited. Surely this was a talent acquired over years of
practice.

“Of course, he deserved to know but in my time not yours.”

“And exactly when was your time, Rayne Amber?”

“I don’t know, Mother. But it was my choice
to make not yours.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been making many choices lately.” She
turned to me and the strength in my legs buckled. “And not one single one of
them is any good.”

Never had I seen her look this way. It wasn’t simply the fact that
I could count on one hand the times I had seen her wear such little makeup as
she wore today but rather something in the eyes. It wasn’t just the redness and
puffiness of eyes changed by a night of tears. It was the way she held me with
those eyes. The way she looked at me.

I had asked Jacques if he was disgusted . . . if his love for me
had changed after he found out about what Charlie Grace had seen of me. I had
asked because I didn’t see the evidence in his eyes and wondered if they hid
his true feelings. There was no need to ask her as she held me in the grayness
of them. Fittingly ironic, the color of her eyes. Gray. But the look was pure
black and white without any doubt to the emotion behind them. I wouldn’t want
to admit it was hate. But perhaps disgust would fit nicely? Yes, I could say
that easily. One could even go with contempt. I found the words I had practiced
in the brightness of my headlights as they reflected the passing miles to be
absent. The speech made in preparation of our imminent debate. The arguments I
had devised in defense of who I had learned or accepted myself to be. All of
them . . . gone. Lost in the abyss of the gray eyes before me.

“So what is it you drove all this way to say?” She leaned her back
against the kitchen sink and folded her arms.

“I don’t know so much as to say something versus talking. I would
like to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

“The other day, Mother. Don’t be like this. It’s hard enough
without all of this.”

“Talk about the other day. You want to talk about the other day.”
She walked around the kitchen island and sat at the breakfast table. “I’m not
sure there is much to talk about.”

“Oh, isn’t there?” I started to walk toward her but she turned to
the window as if hoping I wouldn’t come any closer. Not that I minded her
taking those eyes away from me to look out into the backyard.

“I suppose there is one question I have to ask.”

“Yes and what is that?” Slowly I took a step closer to her and
hoped she wouldn’t hear my footsteps on the tile flooring.

She kept her attention fixated on the willow tree outside the
large bay window for what seemed like forever. “Was that my son-in-law?”

I stopped my steps. “I’m sorry. What?”

She turned in her chair to face me. Her eyes still held the same
emotion as the one earlier yet this time my knees didn’t threaten to give way.
She propped her arm on the back of the chair. “I said.” She looked directly at
me as if daring me to not answer her question. “Did I meet my son-in-law at
your apartment?”

I was horrified. The contempt I felt with her words . . . with her
accusation caused a rancid taste in my mouth. I suppose it was in that moment
of feeling protection for Mo I realized I loved her. I wouldn’t allow Charlie
Grace to compare her to a man or insinuate she to be like a son-in-law. I had
the sickening thought of Charlie Grace’s actions causing Mo to leave me—to end
whatever it was we had or were trying to develop. Not that Mo was even thinking
of anything developing. She had made that all too obvious. Which one bothered
me the most was difficult to answer.

“I find that question to be completely crass and uncalled for.”

“Oh did I offend you? Did you not like the way I referred to the
nearly nude woman I found in your home? The nude woman who obviously has such
high morals that she had sex with an engaged woman.”

“I’m not engaged.”

“Don’t remind me. I was there. Remember? The night you made a
spectacle of the entire evening. Did you break off your engagement because of her?”

“Not because of her.” I walked to stand in between her and the
window she tried to look around me to see. “Let’s forget her for a moment.”

“I’d like to forget her for more than a moment if it suits you
just fine.”

“Mother, please. I’m trying here.” I sat down in the chair across
from her. “It’s not about her. It’s not really about Grant. Even though he and
I grew to want other things in our lives, this has nothing to do with him
either.” I pointed my finger at my chest and tapped my sternum. “This is about
me. Only me. No one else. This is who I am.”

“Don’t be absurd, Rayne. You don’t just turn gay overnight.”

“No.” I shook my head in agreement. “No, you don’t. I’ve been this
way for as long as I can remember. I just never had the strength to accept it
until recently.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” I reached for her hand but she pulled it away and
dropped it under the table.

“What?” She looked down at her lap. “What did
I do wrong? Are you so angry with me that you would do this to me? Do you have
such ill feeling toward me that this was a way to get back at me?”

I continued to shake my head “No” to all of the things she kept
saying. “No. No. That’s not it at all. This isn’t a choice I made to get back
at you or to punish you. It’s not a choice at all.”

“Don’t fool yourself, young lady.” She lifted her head. “This most
certainly is a choice.”

“How? How do you figure this is a choice?”

“Because it is. You are choosing the path to sin. You are choosing
a path against God . . . a direct abomination against him. You are to repent
and pray for forgiveness. Choose to have faith in the word and not let yourself
be tempted. You can choose to not be this way. To not act on those urges and
live the life you are supposed to live.”

“Supposed to live by whose design?”

“By God’s. There is no gray line here, Rayne. You are choosing a
life of sin and fornication.”

“I committed fornication with Grant but I don’t seem to remember
you getting all up in arms about it.”

She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “I’ll not
sit here and continue this any further.”

I stood to meet her. “Mother, wait.” I reached for her arm and
this time made contact before she could pull away. I felt the muscles of her
forearm tighten as she tried to pull her arm free. “Please just wait. Let’s not
be like this.”

“Are you going to continue to live this way?”

“I’m going to continue to live the way I feel is for me. I’m going
to continue to follow what I feel . . . yes.”

Her chin gave a small quiver. “Then I can’t love you this way.”

I fell back into the chair and was thankful for its support.
“You’re my mother.” I wished the wooden seat could magically transport me to
another time . . . another place. One that didn’t have the words she had spoken
hanging in the air—sharp and quick with the need to cut. “You’re my mother.
You’re supposed to love me no matter what.”

She started to turn away but shifted her shoulder to look at me
again. There was no hesitation in her voice nor was there doubt behind her eyes.
“I can’t love you like this.” She turned on her heels and walked to the door.
Her back stiffened as she stopped just inside of the doorway. “I can’t love a
daughter I know in my heart I will not see in eternal Heaven. You’re an
abomination to all that I believe in. I’m sorry I ever gave birth to you.”

Crack.

Fissure.

Break.

Two steps later, she was gone. I sat in the quiet for several
minutes, unsure if I was waiting for her return or if I merely lacked the power
to stand on my own two feet. Of course, I knew this would not be easy for her
to accept. Hell, it was damn hard for me for me to accept, much less her, and
I’ve had more time than she has had. Yet I had never entertained the thought
her reaction would be this strong. Who could look their own daughter directly
in the eyes and tell them they were no longer or could no longer be loved
because of who they fundamentally were? How could a mother feel, much less say,
she hated her child to the point she longed for the day they had not been born?

Had I been cursed with such a woman for a mother or did she feel
as the majority of those felt? Flossie had given me a glimpse into a very
different response. Was the way she and Memaw felt an example of how others in
the town would feel, or would they be closer to Charlie Grace? The better
question was . . . could I handle it if they were?

Chapter 26

I HAD BEEN to the cabin this time of year—maybe not many times,
but enough to where I wasn’t expecting it to feel as differently as it felt
today. I suppose December in the south was different than many other states.
Our December most likely felt like their fall season. The leaves had browned
and dried but many still remained attached to their branches. The sound from
them was coarse when the breeze rustled them.

The sun’s light was bright with enough warmth to keep my body
comfortable as I sat out on the dock. The drive here had reminded me of those
long ago before I had left for medical school. The days when I drove with Memaw
to our place on the bayou. The days when I tried wholeheartedly to soak up
every ounce of the feel of my home. I felt the pull of losing the one place
that centered me in this world. The one comfort I had when all else was lost.

Today I drove here again with the same looming need to once again
absorb every facet of Louisiana. It wouldn’t be something taking me away this
time but something pushing me away. I lay back against the wood and stared at
the cloudless sky. The blue called me to remember the other comfort I once had.
There had been two sets of blue eyes that had held me with the only tenderness
I had ever known. Two sets I would undoubtedly never see again. Two sets that
would hold the key to shaking the pit of loneliness I felt myself falling into.

I reached into my pocket and pulled the phone up to search for
Sam’s number. I ran my thumb over the screen as if miraculously the letters of
her name would be in braille, allowing me to feel them against my skin. I dare
not hit the number to hear the recording I knew in my heart would never change
or worse the voice of the person who owned the recycled number.

My whole body was startled with the shadowed darkness of the sun
no longer being cast upon my face. I opened my eyes to see a larger than life
looking Flossie standing over me.

“Hey, baby girl. I knew’d you’d be out here.” She shifted her
weight and I squinted to the brightness of the light no longer shielded by her
body. “Mind if’n I take a seat?”

“Not at all.” I sat up to scoot over so she would have enough room
on the edge of the dock.

“How you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Yep, I imagine dat’s ’bout right.”

“How did you know I was here? Did Charlie Grace call you?”

“Nope. I hadn’t heard a peep outta her until I went over there dis
morning.” She wiggled her feet as they hung off the edge of the dock. “And
truth be told it tweren’t her dat told me a thing. It be Jacques. He’s mighty
upset with’n her. Mighty upset. In fact dat man left right behind me. Said he
had to get away before he done said words he can’t take back.” She looked at
me. “Dat man worried about you. He gots lots of love for you. Plum near broke
dis old lady down to see dat much hurtin’ in his eyes. He done asked me to find
you. I didn’t think you’d a wantin’ me to bring him out here tho.”

“No. This place is too dear to me to have it exposed. I don’t
think he could keep it from Charlie Grace. Plus I wouldn’t want to put him in a
position to have to keep secrets from her.” I pulled at a piece of splintered
wood underneath my finger. “So you didn’t see her or talk to her.”

“Nope.”

I felt a tightness in my throat. I was unsure as to how much
Flossie knew. How much anyone or everyone would know. “What all do you know?”

“From what I can piece together it done sound like you got caught
with’n yo’ hand in the cookie jar.”

“Something like that.” I pulled the splintered wood completely
free and played with it in my hands. “It was horrible, Flossie. If ever there
was a wrong way to come out . . . that was it.”

“Aw hell, sis. None of us gone have life
figured out and about the time we done think we do something gonna slap us in
the face. You can plan all you be wanting don’t mean it gonna happen dat way.”

“This would definitely fall into that category. Do you know she
told Grant?”

She turned from gazing at the water and squinted at me. “Yep. Dat
little piece right der part of the reason old Jacques fit to be tied. He done
tired of her sticking her nose in yo business.” She put her hand over the top
of mine. “It look like to me with these here old eyes dat it all in place fo’
you now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It all out now. Maybe not the way you were awanting but it all
out. You free to do what you want. Free to live the way you be wanting.”

“Yeah. Free to be alone. Free to not have a home to come back to
anymore.”

“What you spouting off?”

I threw the piece of wood out into the water. “I’m not welcome
here anymore, Flossie. Charlie Grace told me she couldn’t love me like this.
That she couldn’t love a daughter who was going to hell.” I covered my eyes
with my hands and rubbed the tears away.

Flossie straightened the slump in her back. “She said dat to you?
She said dem words to you?”

“Well, she didn’t say the word ‘hell’ but, yeah, pretty much
everything else. She said she couldn’t love me if I was like this. Said she
wouldn’t see me in eternal life. Didn’t leave much to the imagination that she
was basically telling me I was going straight to hell. She said she wished she
had never given birth to me.”

The paper-thin skin of Flossie’s hand tightened across her
knuckles as she balled her fingers into a fist. “Oooooh. Dat woman gone bring a
hurtin’ on herself she speak dem words around me. Addie done turning over in
her grave right ’bout now. Charlie Grace done said dem words gone make me face
her.” Her voice was elevated and shook with emotion.

I placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Don’t get worked up about
it. I mean you know she probably feels like most will feel when all of this
comes out. They aren’t going to think like you and Meems.”

She turned her body to face me. “How you know’d dat? You ever
talked to any of dem ’bout dis? You ever given any of dem a chance? Yo momma
ain’t speakin’ for dis town, sweet girl. She ain’t the voice of dis town. I’d
venture to say many a folk gone be might pissed off they ever know dem words
she done said to you.”

“Flossie, I have to face facts. Face the
truth. I can’t pretend it’ll all be okay and I can just move back here as if
nothing has changed.”

“And what done changed?”

“I’m a lesbian!” I didn’t mean to yell.

“What? You tweren’t no lesbian when you were home for
Thanksgiving? What you all of a sudden been dis woman? You gone tell me you not
have these same feelings . . . been dis same woman last Thanksgiving when Addie
and I done watched you with your friend?”

“No.” I ran my finger over the roughened wood I had pulled the
piece from. “I’m not saying that.”

“We all done loved you den. We all gone love you now. You ain’t no
different den the girl we done watched grow up into a fine young woman.”

I looked up into her eyes. They weren’t blue like the ones I had thought
of a few minutes ago but they were tender. “Do you really believe that?”

“With all my heart.” She shook her head with emphasis and pulled
me in tightly for a hug.

Brown sugar and honey.

“You gotta give us a chance,” she whispered. “Give yo’ people a
chance. Dis town a chance.”

The vibration of my phone interrupted her hug. My heart leapt into
my throat for fear it was Charlie Grace’s name on the caller id screen. I
doubted I could handle anymore of her words.

Flossie’s eyes followed mine to the phone in my lap. “Dat one of
your new friends?”

Mo’s name flashed on the screen and I felt a smile try to take
over the hurt. “Yes, it is.”

She smiled back at me. “Den why don’t you answer dat while I go
call Jacques and get these groceries cooked up.” She pointed to the pickup
truck pulled up to the house.

“You’re staying with me?”

“Always.” She stood up. “Now you best be gettin’ dat phone.”

“I think I will.” I pushed the button to accept the call while I
let the happiness of seeing her name, the excitement of hearing her voice
soared through me. It was quickly followed by a nervousness as to why she was
calling.

”Hi.”

“Hi. Jaz told me you went home.” She sounded nervous too. “How are
you doing?”

“I’m hanging in.”

“Me too.” She paused. “So, how bad is it?”

“Probably as bad as you could imagine.”

“Are you coming back to Birmingham?”

A large oak leaf drained of its color
floated in the breeze that blew high in the trees. I watched its stem hold
firmly onto the branch as the wind lifted it up within its current. “Not right
now. I’m drained. Physically. Emotionally. I’m just drained. I honestly don’t
think I could make the drive until I can get a little bit of rest.”

“Do you have friends there you can stay with or are you staying
with your mother?”

“Oh no. I’m not welcome there. If I have any doubts or confusion
in all of this, that’s one thing I can hold certain. I’m not welcome in my
home.” I watched Flossie carry grocery bags from the truck into the cabin. “But
I’m not alone. I’m staying with a friend.” She caught me looking at her and
waved. I paused. “No, I’m staying with family at my cabin.”

She was quiet except for her breathing. “Hey, Rayne?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have doubts and confusion?”

“Well, yeah . . . of course I do.”

“About being a lesbian?”

I watched the leaf take another ride in the force of the wind.
“Not about being who I am. Not about that. I have my doubts as to what the road
ahead will be but not about who I am.”

“And what are your thoughts about me? Do you have doubts and
confusion about me?” Her voice was even more nervous than it was before.

“Well . . . to be honest . . . I’m a little confused. I’m
surprised you called.”

“Can’t say I blame you there. And doubts?”

“No. I can’t say I have those. In fact, I’ve actually never been
more sure of what I want from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This that you want, would it be the same you asked me for in your
apartment?”

“The very same.”

She took in a deep breath. “And what if I disappoint you?”

“You’re here. That’s what’s important to me
right now. For once I want to live in today and not my carefully planned out
future.”

“Well, alright then.” I heard her smile in her words. “So what are
you doing tomorrow?”

The breeze was becoming cooler as it lowered
closer to the water. I drew my legs up against me to try to overcome the damp
chill of it. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Why? What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe you could drive over to Baton Rouge and pick
me up at the airport.”

“You’re flying into Louisiana tomorrow?”

“I thought maybe you could use some company driving back.” She
hesitated for a moment. “And besides . . . I missed you. I need to see you.”

The smile I had felt when I saw her name as the caller was nothing
compared to the smile I was wearing now. “Watch out, Mo. You’re getting
dangerously close to acting like a girlfriend.”

She laughed. “I know. It’s pretty scary, isn’t it?”

“Not to me, but how are you handling it?”

“I think it might look good on me.”

I caught sight of the leaf as its stem gave away from the branch
to be carried gently in the air until it landed on the surface of the bayou.
Its ripple altered the mirrored reflection of the trees lining the water’s edge.
It floated away until it was lost in the brilliance of the sun on the water. It
was free to drift into parts unknown. There wasn’t a way to know what was
beyond the future immediately in front of me. There wasn’t a way to see past
the sun’s light. Yet I was free of the branch that held my stem. Free to set my
own path as I drifted into the next phase of my life.

I held the phone against my chin and thought of the woman whose
voice had brought me happiness and security at the height of the next phase of
my life. I thought of the woman in the cabin who had come to make sure I wasn’t
alone in the first steps of this new life. I thought of Jazlyn’s calm, friendly
voice of comfort in my ear at a time when I felt my world spinning out of
control. Then I looked up into the sky and thought of the woman who had loved
me unconditionally.

It was these things I would hold on to. It was these women who
would give me strength. And it would be these women that would walk this next
path with me. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t alone. I turned from the sun as
it dipped lower in the sky and let the heat warm my back as I walked toward the
cabin.

Tomorrow was a new day.

About
the Author

Although
CD Cain now loves living in South Georgia, she does miss days spent on the
bayou behind her family’s home. It was through her daydreams of longing to once
again feel her toes dampened in the cool water that characters began to awaken
in her mind. She soon realized they weren’t
going to quiet their chatter in her brain until she gave them life. Thus
the Chambers of the Heart Series was born.

Beyond
writing, CD enjoys spending time with her partner of twenty-two years, their
four-year-old son, and multiple furbabies. She is the happiest when outdoors
either simply relaxing on her porch or camping with her family. When she is not
writing, she works as Physician Assistant
caring for patients with spinal disorders.
Many times she refers to her patients as her second family.

She
hopes the Chambers of the Heart Series connects with her readers by
creating characters who make them laugh, remind them of a happy time in their
lives, give them renewed strength in trials
once faced and conquered or let them bask in the newness of love. She
enjoys hearing from her readers so please contact her through: Twitter (@cdcain1019), Facebook (C.d. Cain),
Goodreads (Cdcain), E-mail at cdcain1019@yahoo.com or on her webpage
www.cdcainauthor.com. Her next goal is to become a better webpage designer and
blogger . . . perhaps after a couple of glasses of a nice smooth red.