“Got your fire pit all cleaned up today, Miss Meryn,” he said.
“Thanks, Bud.” She peered skyward. “Might be a good evening to go down there.”
He tipped his cap, and she waved him off.
“Saw Bud leaving,” she said as she entered the house. “Maybe I should do that instead.”
“Do what?” Henrietta glanced up from the desk, where she was sorting through the mail.
“Clean yards. Mow, rake, plant flowers. At least then, I wouldn’t have to deal with academic egos and needy students. And I might have a sense of having accomplished something at the end of the day.”
“Oh, posh. You’re a good teacher, and you know it.”
Ryn studied her, her leg braces now covered by loose slacks, and her back brace obscured by a tunic in a woodblock print of greens and browns.
She set her backpack down and went to stand behind Henrietta, running her hands up and down her arms. “This is pretty.”
Henrietta sat back. “Thank you.”
Ryn bent down to wrap her arms around Henrietta, pressing their cheeks together. When Henrietta more readily reached up to clasp her arm, Ryn smiled.
“I think we should have an early dinner and go down to the pond. Bud said he cleaned up down there. It’s nice out.”
Henrietta considered a moment, but then said, “We could do that. It won’t take long to warm up the soup Bonnie left for us.”
Ryn changed clothes, and they ate quickly. Stepping out the back door, she noticed Henrietta seemed a little wobbly. With a small basket in one hand, Ryn stayed a step ahead of Henrietta on the path, making sure there were no acorns or other debris to slide under her crutches, but Bud had done a good job of clearing everything. At the landing next to the pond, she got Henrietta settled in a chair and then turned her attention to the fire Bud had laid for them.
When it was lit, the flames snapping and sparking, she opened the basket and took out a Thermos of hot tea. “Here you go,” she said, handing a warm mug to Henrietta.
“Thank you.”
She pulled a light wool shawl out of the basket as well and wrapped it around Henrietta’s thin shoulders. “It’s cooling down. Don’t want you to get chilled.”
Taking the other seat, Ryn sat back with her own tea, watching the fading daylight reflected on the mirror surface of the pond. For long minutes, they listened to the croaking of frogs, watching birds swoop acrobatically to snatch bugs over the water.
“Do you ever think about it?” she asked softly.
She met Henrietta’s eyes.
“Sometimes. More so when I was younger.” Henrietta gazed out at the pond. “I used to wonder if I was being punished, or what my life would have been like if only we hadn’t gone swimming that day.”
Ryn watched as a parade of emotions crossed Henrietta’s face, and she could see the girl she used to be.
“I wonder now if Una would still be alive.”
Ryn reached out and took Henrietta’s hand, not certain her touch would be welcomed. She was ready to withdraw when Henrietta’s fingers tightened.
“Does it ever bother you to have this reminder here, just below the house?”
Henrietta shrugged. “It’s pointless to think that way. This land was available. My father built a house I can manage in. Where else would I go?”
Ryn felt Henrietta’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet them. “What if we did look for someplace else? Somewhere else.”
“Why would we do that?”
Ryn was grateful for the rapidly falling dusk and flickering firelight that obscured the color she knew was in her cheeks. “No reason.”
Sandy was waiting to open the back door of her store for Henrietta.
“Are you sure it’s all right to park here?” Henrietta asked.
“Of course. I’ve got four spots and there are only two of us working here. Come on in.”
A few customers were roaming the aisles when Henrietta stepped into the shop from the storeroom. They smiled shyly in Henrietta’s direction.
“I loved your paintings when they were at the library,” one woman said.
Henrietta blinked at her, still unaccustomed to having people comment on her work. “Thank you.”
“Jodi,” Sandy said to the silver-haired woman behind the counter, “I’m going to lunch. Be back by one.”
“Before you go,” Jodi said, “can you help me with this special order?”
“Go ahead,” Sandy said to Henrietta. “I’ll be right with you.”
Henrietta wended her way through the store and out to the sidewalk.
“Henrietta.”
Henrietta stiffened at the sound of that voice. “Genevieve.” She turned around to find Genevieve Talbert, cigarette in hand, looking her up and down.
“Don’t you look lovely. So… bohemian.”
Henrietta smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The smile Genevieve gave her in return was icy.
“Ready? I’m starved.” Sandy caught up to them. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Talbert.”
Genevieve stared at Sandy for a moment as she took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled. “Running with the artsy crowd these days, Henrietta?”
“Yes, I am. It’s such a refreshing change.”
“Is your lip bleeding, Mrs. Talbert?” Sandy said, leaning toward Genevieve a little. “Oh, my mistake. Come on, Henrietta.”
She led the way down the sidewalk a few doors to a small diner where they got a table near the wall, out of the traffic flow.
“What was that about her lip?” Henrietta asked as she lowered herself to a chair.
Sandy grinned wickedly. “It’s just her lipstick bleeding into all those wrinkles around her mouth. She’ll obsess about it for weeks.”
Henrietta laughed and looked around. “I haven’t eaten here in years.”
“Maxine and I meet here a couple times a month.” Sandy moved the ashtray to an adjacent table and tugged three menus out from behind the fluted glass sugar dispenser. She looked up and waved when the door opened again. “Speaking of.”
Maxine joined them. “Hello, lovely ladies.”
Henrietta watched as she gave Sandy’s hand a covert squeeze under the table.
“Hi, Maria,” Sandy said as a waitress appeared, pad in hand. “I’ll have iced tea, a chicken salad sandwich, and a bowl of today’s soup.”
“You don’t even know what today’s soup is,” Maxine said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Sandy flipped her menu closed and slid it behind the sugar again. “They’re all good.”
“You’re right.” Maxine closed her menu, too.
“Make it three,” Henrietta said.
“You’re making my life easy,” Maria said, tucking her pad in her apron pocket with a smile. “Drinks coming right up.”
Henrietta took in the old village photos adorning the walls. “This is quaint.”
Sandy nodded, reaching for her tea when Maria brought three glasses to their table. “It is. Surprised you don’t come here.”
Henrietta squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea. “Other than JT’s and the club, I suppose I haven’t been to many of the restaurants in town.” She nodded toward her crutches, leaning against the fourth chair. “I always feel self-conscious.”
“Tell me about it.” Maxine sniffed as she poured some sugar into her tea.
“What do you have to feel self-conscious about?” Henrietta asked.
Maxine stared at her for a moment. “You’re serious.”
“Well, yes. I mean, you’re attractive, you’re able, you’re well-known in town. Everyone likes you. What is there to feel self-conscious about?”
“Henrietta,” Maxine said, “what kind of reaction did you receive from the others when you and Sandy came in here?”
Henrietta thought. “I guess people glanced our way and nodded before they went back to what they were doing.”
“Mmmm hmmm. And when I came in?” Maxine stirred her tea, the spo
on clinking rhythmically against the glass.
Henrietta frowned. “I didn’t notice. I was watching you.”
Maxine paused while Maria served their food. “Well, I can tell you, every single face in here—and they’re all white, by the way—every one turned to look at me. They didn’t nod. Okay, a few did once they realized it was me. But their first reaction was to notice that a black person had just walked into the diner.”
“That’s not true,” Henrietta protested, glancing around. “Is it?”
Sandy nodded. “It is. It happens all the time.”
Maxine took a drink of her tea, watching Henrietta. “Have you ever been the only white person in a store or bank or restaurant?”
Henrietta thought. “No. I haven’t.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Maxine said again. “Most white folks haven’t ever had that experience. It doesn’t mean people are being hostile, but they always make you feel obvious, like you don’t belong. It’s immediately clear that one of these things is not like the others.”
“I never thought about it,” Henrietta admitted.
“Most of us don’t,” Sandy said. “I never did until I saw things through Maxine’s eyes. When I go home with her to her neighborhood in New Orleans, I’m usually the only white person in sight. Like she said, the stares are mostly curious, but it makes you realize.”
“Well, I’m usually the only person with braces and crutches.”
“Which makes people sympathetic,” Maxine pointed out and then quickly added, “Not that you need or want their sympathy. But it’s not the same.”
“I suppose not.”
“How’s Meryn?” Sandy asked, spooning up some of the mushroom and rice soup.
“Fine.”
Maxine paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Why doesn’t it sound fine?”
“I think she’s just stressed with her extra teaching load this semester.”
“What’s she saying or doing?” Sandy asked.
“She’s been talking about possibly moving. Going somewhere else,” Henrietta said.
Sandy and Maxine exchanged a quick glance.
“What?” Henrietta asked.
“This is her first year at St. Aloysius, isn’t it?” Maxine asked.
Henrietta nodded.
“I know several of the English faculty,” Maxine said. “New faculty members are on provisional contracts for their first three years, renewable annually. Has Meryn’s contract been renewed?”
Henrietta stared at her. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said.” She frowned down at her sandwich. “Jerry Talbert doesn’t like her. He may not renew.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s been hinting at moving. She might have to search for a position elsewhere.” Maxine tilted her head as she studied Henrietta. “Would you go with her?”
That’s exactly why she was asking. Henrietta’s stomach lurched. “I don’t know. How could I leave? Everything I own, everything I know is here.”
Sandy lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Maxine did that for me. I know it hasn’t always been easy, being so far from family and where she grew up.”
Maxine smiled tenderly. “Sometimes love leads us in unexpected directions. The path isn’t always clear or easy.” Her hand shifted under the table, and Henrietta knew she’d clasped Sandy’s hand. “But it’s always worth it.”
Ryn gazed fondly at her students, feeling kind of emotional. Turning her back on them, she pretended to be occupied erasing the notes she’d scribbled on the board. “I hope you all have a wonderful summer. I’ll see you Wednesday at eight sharp for the final exam.”
For a few seconds there was no sound, but then a few hands started clapping. Startled, she spun around as the rest of the class joined in on the applause.
“This was the best class I had all year,” said one young woman.
“Thank you, Jesse.”
Another said, “I’m going to go home to Vermont and make sure I help register as many people to vote as I can. I never bothered before, but now, knowing how hard those women worked to win us that right, I’ll never not vote again.”
Ryn’s throat tightened. “Then I can’t ask for anything more.”
Each student came up to shake her hand and thank her. A few of the women offered hugs. A handful of them waited for her, walking her out of the classroom and out of the building.
Waving them off, Ryn headed across the quad toward Rayburn Hall when she saw Tamara. She was walking shoulder to shoulder with another young woman—a butch-looking jock Ryn had a passing acquaintance with. When there were so few lesbians, they tended to notice and acknowledge one another. They spied Ryn. Tamara stopped and stared at her while the other woman grinned. Ryn nodded in their direction and walked on.
So, Tam has found someone else. Looks like God and the nuns lost out on this one.
She paused on the steps of Rayburn, trying to figure out why the sight of Tamara with someone else left her feeling unsettled. She didn’t want a relationship with Tam. She knew that and had confirmed it that day in the chapel. So what did it matter if Tam was seeing another woman?
Is it because it’s a door closed to you? taunted a voice inside her. She was always there as a backup, and now she’s not?
Ryn had to grudgingly admit that was a possibility. And, she also had to admit, everything here—her job, her life with Henrietta—it felt as if some cosmic hand was tossing it all around like dice in a cup. And all she could do was wait to see where the dice landed.
The door of the building opened, and Jerry Talbert rushed through, a manila folder tucked under his arm as he shook a cigarette out of a pack. He stopped short at the sight of her.
“Professor.” His voice was cool. He flicked his lighter and took a deep drag.
“Dr. Talbert.” Ryn kept her voice as cool and even as his. Forget the cosmic hand. The only one screwing around with her future was this jerk.
She walked by him and up the stairs. “Bev,” she started to say, rounding into the department office, but Beverly wasn’t at her desk.
Grumbling to herself, Ryn went to her office and dropped into her chair. Only then did she notice the envelope lying on her desk. It was heavy stock, embossed with St. Aloysius’s seal in the upper left-hand corner and her name, Professor Meryn Fleming, typed across the front. A little note lay beside it.
I hope this is good news, it said in Beverly’s perfect handwriting.
She picked the envelope up, her heart pounding. The flap was securely sealed. She started to slip a finger under it, but stopped. Whatever this held, it didn’t affect just her.
She emptied her backpack of class notes—probably the last time she’d be teaching the women-and-history course here at this college—and repacked it with a few things she’d need to review for tomorrow. And the letter.
She meant to savor the walk through the village. She meant to notice each moment she had left here, not knowing how many more there might be. But her mind was racing, wondering what that letter said and, before she realized it, she was turning into the driveway. She paused to give Nelly a pat.
“We haven’t been anywhere lately. Maybe a drive this weekend.”
She imagined the little wagon shivered in anticipation.
Hesitating outside the front door, she tried to prepare herself. Aside from their one conversation at the pond, when Ryn had suggested moving and Henrietta had shot the idea down, they hadn’t broached the topic. She had a feeling things were going to be decided, one way or the other, by the contents of that envelope. Her stomach sank at the thought that she might soon be packing to leave. Separating from Ashley had been hard, but they’d both known that day was coming. This felt as if it were ripping her in two. She closed her eyes for a second and unlocked the door.
To her surprise, Henrietta was sitting on the sofa, apparently waiting for her.
“Thought you’d be painting,” Ryn said as she lowered her backpack.
“Not today.”
Ryn sat in h
er usual chair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Only Henrietta didn’t look fine. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes as she fidgeted, her fingers plucking at bits of lint on the sofa cushion.
“What’s wrong, Henrietta?”
Henrietta carefully avoided Ryn’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking…”
Ryn braced herself.
“I called a realtor I know and explained that I might be leaving Bluemont, at least for a while.”
Ryn was certain she’d misheard. “Wait. Where are you going?”
Henrietta looked up at that, her face blanching. “You talked about leaving, about going somewhere else. But, if you don’t—”
Her voice caught.
Ryn perched on the edge of her chair. “You would do that? You would go with me?”
Henrietta nodded stiffly. “He recommended I close the house up, perhaps rent it rather than sell it. In case…”
Ryn bent down to her backpack, giving herself a minute to get her emotions under control. Pulling the envelope out of her pack, she moved to sit beside Henrietta.
“This was waiting for me today.”
“What is it?” Henrietta asked.
“I’m guessing this will tell me whether I have a job at St. Aloysius next year.”
They both stared at the envelope lying in Ryn’s hands.
“You didn’t open it?”
Ryn shook her head. “This affects both of us. I thought we should find out together what it says. But before we do,” she reached for Henrietta’s hand. “I just want you to know how much it means to me that you would even consider going with me if I had to leave to find work.”
With obvious effort, Henrietta forced herself to meet Ryn’s eyes. “I can’t imagine—I don’t want to imagine—my life here without you.”
Ryn raised Henrietta’s hand to her lips. “Shall we?”
Henrietta nodded.
Ryn pried the flap loose and slid out the folded paper inside. Typed on the same heavy stock as the envelope, the words blurred as she read them.
“They’re offering another year,” she whispered.
She handed the letter to Henrietta, who read aloud, “Based upon your students’ excellent feedback and positive evaluations from colleagues, we are pleased to extend your contract through the 1984/85 academic year, subject to the same provisions as your original contract.”
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