by Radclyffe
consider not spending the day with Dev any kind of bonus.
“Okay.”
They’d reached the juncture of the shore path and the wooded trail that led up
to the cabins. Leslie switched on her ß ashlight, but the batteries she’d found in
the kitchen drawer must have been old, because the cone of light was very faint.
She reached out in the darkness and found Dev’s hand. With their shoulders
and arms lightly touching, they climbed up through the woods.
“Should I walk you down? It’s pretty dark,” Leslie said at the turnoff to her
cabin.
“I’m okay. There’s plenty of moon.”
Leslie hesitated, reluctant to say good night. Dev’s hand was warm in hers and
the sound of her voice in the dark was like a soft caress.
She tightened inside and heat ß ared for an instant before she ruthlessly forced it
down. God, what was she thinking? But that was just it, she wasn’t thinking at
all, and her body was clearly in some kind of crazy rebellion. She spoke
carefully, wanting to be certain that her voice was steady.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Good night, Les.” Dev released Leslie’s hand and made herself step away. She
didn’t want to move. The palm of her hand where Leslie had just touched her
felt naked, exposed, as if the skin were missing.
She took another step and then another and when she reached the trees that
separated the clearings around their cabins, she waited until she heard Leslie’s
footsteps on the porch and the sound of the door opening and closing quietly.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered into the night.
Then she slowly made her way back to her cabin, stripped off her
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RADCLY fFE
clothes, and lay down on the bed. The room had cooled, but her body was too
warm even for the light cotton sheet. She closed her eyes and prayed she
wouldn’t dream.
Fifty yards away, Leslie sat on the side of her bed, still fully dressed, and
pressed Rachel’s number on the speed dial. She wasn’t surprised when her call
was directed to voicemail. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure Rachel’s
face. It was difÞ cult.
“Rach, hi, it’s me. I’m here.” She hesitated, trying to remember Rachel’s
schedule. Was it really just a day since they’d talked?
“I’m sure you nailed the closing. Have a drink for me to celebrate.”
She paused again, aware of the silence stretching between them, far deeper than
just the seconds ticking away. She took a breath. “I miss you.”
She wanted that to be true and hoped that the reason it felt like a lie was just
because she was so damn tired. Without even bothering to undress, she kicked
off her shoes and curled up on the bed. When she closed her eyes, she heard
the echo of long-ago laughter on the wind.
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WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER EIGHT
You’re up early,” Eileen Harris said when Leslie poked her head into the
kitchen a little after six the next morning.
“Not really,” Leslie said. “I’m usually in the ofÞ ce by now. Do I smell coffee?”
Eileen pulled a tray of scones from the oven and inclined her head toward an
insulated carafe on a nearby counter. “If you wouldn’t mind, carry that out into
the dining room for the guests. I’ll put on another pot for us.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
When Leslie returned, her mother slid a plate with a steaming scone onto the
scarred wooden kitchen table and handed her a mug of coffee. “Still like
blueberry?”
“Yes,” Leslie said, settling at the table with her coffee. She broke open the
pastry and reached for the butter. “But they never taste the same from the
bakery.”
Eileen smiled. “I thought you might sleep in, seeing how you’re on vacation.
Going Þ shing? Your dad’s down at the dock.”
“I am, but not that kind. I’m going out with Dev while she collects some
samples.”
“Really,” Eileen said carefully. “You two seem to have hit it off. I didn’t realize
you knew each other.”
“She was a year behind me in school. Her parents ran the convenience store in
Diamond Point.”
“Weber’s. Of course, I remember them, but for some reason, I don’t remember
her. I thought I knew all your friends.”
“She wasn’t part of that crowd,” Leslie said.
• 69 •
RADCLY fFE
“We’re just going to hang out down at the boathouse,” Leslie said, watching
Dev stow her gear in her motorcycle bag. The sounds of car engines revving and
friends shouting to one another surrounded them.
“Just come for a while. It’s just girls.”
Dev shook her head. “I don’t think so, Les. I should get home. My parents will
probably need me in the store.”
“It’s still early. Just for an hour,” Leslie wheedled. For some reason, she really
wanted Dev to come to her house after school. It was hard to duck her other
friends all the time, and sometimes days would go by before she could see Dev
alone for a walk or for a few private minutes just to talk. In a couple of weeks,
she’d be graduating and summer would start. Dev would be working in the store
more and she’d be helping her parents at the lodge. It might be even harder to
see her then. If Dev would only socialize with the rest of Leslie’s friends, Leslie
could see her more. She missed her when she didn’t see her.
“Please, Dev.”
“Come on, Les. You’ll probably all be sitting around talking about makeup or
guys.”
“I promise I won’t mention Mike once within your hearing.” When Dev’s
expression tightened and she looked away, Leslie felt a surge of alarm. Dev was
so sensitive, and it was so hard to tell sometimes what she’d said wrong. She
hurried on, wanting to make Dev smile again. “I promise. We’ll play some pool
or something.”
Dev shot her a look. “Since when?”
“Hey!” Leslie grinned and slapped Dev’s arm. “I can play. I’m damn good at
it.”
Laughing, Dev caught Leslie’s wrist, and when Leslie took another playful swing
at her with her free hand, she caught that one too. “And what will we do after I
beat you in ten minutes?”
“Oh, you think?” Leslie gave Dev a teasing shove, and when Dev stumbled
back in surprise, still holding Leslie’s wrists, Leslie lost her balance too and fell
into her. They ended up in a tangle, half sprawled over the wide tank of Dev’s
motorcycle, Dev on the bottom with Leslie’s stomach and thighs pressed against
her, Leslie’s hands on Dev’s shoulders. Their faces were inches apart. Leslie
could feel Dev breathing hard under her, as if she’d been running for a long time.
Dev was only an inch or so shorter than Mike, and her body felt nearly as
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WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
hard, except where her small breasts just grazed Leslie’s. Leslie felt the tingling
again, like she had the week before when she’d ridden on the back of Dev’s
motorcycle, their bodies pressed close together. Except she wasn’t nervous this
time. This was D
ev, and she had nothing to fear.
So close like this, she could see that Dev’s eyes were more green today,
probably because the sunlight slanted into them, making them glow.
Leslie watched, fascinated, as Dev’s pupils widened and her lips parted
soundlessly. She felt hands skim her waist.
“You ought to get up, Les,” Dev said unsteadily, “before we tip the bike over.”
Leslie didn’t want to move. Her breathing had speeded up, and her heart
seemed to race at the same pace as the pulse that hammered along Dev’s
tanned neck. The May sunshine warmed the backs of her bare legs, but she was
warmer still inside. Lazy and liquid and warm, like sugar bubbling on the stove.
Beneath her, Dev shivered. “Dev.
What—?”
Her voice came out thick and she wondered if she’d be able to stand up. Her
legs felt so heavy. She began to tremble.
Sounding almost panicked, Dev said more sharply, “Leslie. Get off.” She
grasped Leslie’s hips and pushed her away as she levered herself into a standing
position. “I gotta go.”
Leslie stared in an unfamiliar daze as Dev straddled her bike, kicked the engine
over, and roared away, leaving Leslie lonely in a way she’d never
experienced.
“Leslie,” Eileen Harris said, giving Leslie a concerned look. “Are you feeling all
right?”
“What?” Leslie said, looking around the kitchen as if she’d never seen it before.
She blinked and the past receded. “Sure. Just daydreaming.”
Eileen rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on a dish towel.
“I guess Devon wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who would have Þ t in very well
back then.”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” Eileen said, clearly surprised by the heat
in Leslie’s voice. “She’s obviously intelligent and very nice. She just seems…
well, I can’t picture her as a girl interested in the things you and your friends—”
• 71 •
RADCLY fFE
“Thanks, Mom,” Leslie said, rising quickly. She stalked to the sink and ß ung
the dregs of her coffee into it before banging the cup down on the counter. “You
make the rest of us sound like we were airheads who spent all our time Þ xing
our hair and gossiping.”
Eileen’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t judging you or your friends, I just meant that
she seems different.”
“Different?” Leslie folded her arms over her chest. “Different from who? Who
you think we were or who we really were? Did you even have any idea who I
was?”
“I thought so,” Eileen said quietly. “At least as much as you let me know.”
“Me?” Leslie wanted to pace. More than that, she wanted to scream. That was
the moment she realized she was losing control, and she very deliberately shut
the door on her anger and her hurt. It was as if a cold wind blew through her,
obliterating the emotions that threatened to cloud her judgment and disturb the
balance she prided herself on having. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Those
things are long past, and whatever either of us did or didn’t do doesn’t matter
anymore.”
Eileen poured herself a cup of coffee. Quietly, she said, “Do you really believe
that?”
“Believe what?” Leslie said, comfortable now that reason ruled.
She and her mother had this kind of conversation every time they were in the
same room together for more than an hour. Since the day she’d left for college,
something critical in their relationship had changed.
They couldn’t agree on anything anymore.
“That things left undone, unresolved, don’t haunt us. That we can just walk
away from the past as if it never happened?” Eileen’s voice was pensive, tinged
with sadness. But there was no challenge, no accusation.
“I know that people change, everything changes. We are who we are now.”
What she didn’t add was strangers.
“Well, it might be nice to get acquainted again.”
Part of Leslie wanted to believe that, and part of her wondered how to begin.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. “You should Þ nish making breakfast.
All the guests will be clamoring at the door in a minute. Why don’t I help.”
“You can get the eggs out of the refrigerator,” Eileen said, turning
• 72 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
back to the stove and sliding a large skillet over the gas burners. “Ever hear
from Mike?”
Leslie froze with the door to the refrigerator half open. “No.
Why?”
“He lives in the area and we see him from time to time. He always asks about
you.”
“I don’t think we’d have anything in common any longer.”
Eileen slit the plastic on a pound of bacon and lay strips in a cast-iron pan. “Are
you seeing anyone special?”
There it was, the opening that Leslie needed to tell her mother just how little she
actually knew of her. She realized that her mother was just making casual
conversation, and not probing for private information. The decision was hers—
reveal herself, or preserve the comfortable distance she had created between
herself and her family, and by extension, all that had existed up until the day
she’d left for college.
“I’m seeing someone,” Leslie said, wondering how to characterize her
relationship with Rachel. Not exactly serious? That wasn’t quite true. It was
exclusive and reasonably long term, so didn’t that make it serious? On the
surface it seemed that way, but that wasn’t how it felt.
In fact, the only word that came to mind was casual. Well, it wasn’t necessary
to examine all the details, when only one was truly relevant.
“A woman.”
The fork in her mother’s hand stilled above the pan of sizzling bacon for just a
second, then she resumed turning the meat. “Is that something recent?” She
looked at Leslie over her shoulder. “I never realized you were interested in
women that way.”
You never told me. The accusation hung in the air and Leslie carefully edged
around it. Trying to explain why she’d never mentioned it meant revisiting events
and feelings that had no place in her life now. She slid the cardboard carton of
eggs onto the counter next to her mother. “I’ve known for a few years. Since
college.”
“That’s quite a long time now,” Eileen said, the hurt evident in her tone.
“I guess it is.” Leslie sighed, knowing she’d added another disappointment. “It
just never seemed to come up.”
“But this is what you want? You’re happy?”
• 73 •
RADCLY fFE
Happy. Why was that the word that everyone used to deÞ ne what mattered?
As if that were all that anyone should strive for, some ß eeting, irrational, and
often false emotion. “It’s who I am.” She reÞ lled her coffee cup and started
toward the door. “I’m going to skip breakfast. I’ll see you later.” She didn’t
wait for her mother’s reply.
v
Dev carried a plate laden with scones, scrambled eggs, and bacon in one hand
&n
bsp; and a cup of coffee in the other. Watching the path from the cabins for Leslie,
she settled into a wicker chair on the front porch and balanced the plate on her
knee.
She jumped when a voice behind her said, “You eat like a lumberjack.”
“It’s the air. Whenever I’m in the mountains, my appetite triples.”
Dev grinned up at Leslie, who was backlit in the morning sunlight. All she could
see was her silhouette and the halo of gold around her face.
She was angled so that the dark, smooth curve of her breast arced above the
plane of her body, reminding Dev of the mountains rising above the lake. She
swallowed, her hunger suddenly shifting to something far more primal than
breakfast. “You eat already?”
Leslie settled onto the substantial porch railing and wrapped one arm around the
smooth column that rose to the roof. She sipped her second cup of coffee.
“Yes.”
Somehow, Dev had a suspicion that coffee was Leslie’s main breakfast staple.
She wore jeans, a short-sleeved boat-neck T-shirt, and sneakers. Although her
dress was more relaxed than the day before, nothing else about her was. Her
body still looked like an overly tight spring. Dev could nearly hear the tension
humming in the air around her.
“Have you been waiting long?” Dev asked, since she’d arrived precisely at 6:30
a.m. She hadn’t seen Leslie inside.
“I got here a half an hour ago or so. Then I went for a walk down to the lake.”
Dev tried a scone, which was delicious, and sipped her coffee.
“I’ll be Þ nished in a few minutes and we can get going.”
“There’s no hurry. We’re on your schedule today.”
• 74 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“No schedule. What we don’t get done today, we’ll do tomorrow.
Or the next day.”
Leslie shook her head. “Interesting approach.”
Dev grinned. “Probably not what you’re used to.”
“No.” Leslie scanned the house, then followed a couple as they came out the
front door and disappeared down the path with their arms around one another.
She blocked out the image. “Not exactly.”
“Something happen this morning?” Dev asked quietly.
“No. Why?”
“I just wondered if you were always this uptight, or if something special caused
it.”
“I’m not uptight.” Leslie frowned, thinking of all the work she had left unÞ