by Radclyffe
nished and the fact that she was essentially blowing it off to follow Dev around.
“I’m just not used to inactivity.”
“I don’t suppose you have one of those do-it-yourself blood-pressure kits, do
you?”
“What?” Leslie stared. “What are you talking about?”
Dev slid her plate onto the table next to her chair and stood. “I think you should
get one. I bet your blood pressure is through the roof right now.”
“I bet it will be if you keep being so irritating,” Leslie snapped, sliding off the
railing. “I didn’t tell you about my little problem so you could badger me.”
“I’m sorry.” Dev resisted the urge to catch Leslie’s wrist as she stalked to the
steps. “It’s not my business.”
Leslie turned at the foot of the stairs and looked back up, shading her eyes in
the glare. “You’re right. It isn’t. Are you ready to go?”
“Let me take my dishes inside and I will be.”
When Dev rejoined Leslie a minute later, she said, “Your mother asked if we
wanted lunch packed, but I told her we’d probably be back by then. She said
to tell you to have a good time.”
Leslie sighed as they started toward the parking lot. “I told her I was going out
with you this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I?” Dev unlocked the passenger door to her truck for Leslie.
“Some people value their privacy. Besides, you didn’t used to be this social.”
• 75 •
RADCLY fFE
Dev walked to the driver’s side and got in as Leslie climbed in next to her. She
slid the key into the ignition but didn’t start it. Instead, she turned in the seat to
face Leslie, who regarded her with faint suspicion.
“That was a long time ago, Les. And I didn’t have a lot in common with most of
my peers.”
“Makeup and boys,” Leslie murmured.
“What?”
Leslie shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Dev said quietly. “I thought spending a few
hours out on the lake might be fun for you, but I just seem to be adding to your
aggravation. I don’t want to spoil your vacation.”
“It isn’t you.”
“I’m the only one here.”
“I had one of those mother-daughter moments this morning,”
Leslie said, the words pushing out as if they’d been under pressure to escape.
“A few moments, actually. I told my mother I was a lesbian.”
Dev stiffened and for an instant, she felt dizzy. She gripped the steering wheel
and waited for the world to stop spinning. It was the last thing she’d expected to
hear. It hurt her head, broke her heart all over again, just to hear the words.
Leslie had turned from her, rejected her, wiped out everything they’d ever
shared, because Leslie hadn’t wanted her. Because Leslie hadn’t felt what she
felt. Because Dev had been wrong, different, queer. She’d lived with that eating
away inside her until she’d buried it, all of it. And now the past rose up to mock
her hard-won victory. How could it be that Leslie was a lesbian?
Dev reached down and turned the ignition, but her legs shook so badly she
couldn’t step on the gas. The engine idled.
The silence in the cab was stiß ing. Leslie saw the blood drain from Dev’s face,
and she wondered if Dev felt as her mother did, that the past was a ghost that
haunted the present until the injustices were atoned for. Some of their ghosts,
Dev’s and hers—perhaps all of them—were shared, and she had no idea how
to exorcise them. When Dev Þ nally turned to stare at her, her eyes held more
sorrow than Leslie could bear.
Knowing she was the cause, she had to look away. “I didn’t know, Dev.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dev whispered.
• 76 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Leslie shook her head and forced herself to face Dev. “It was. You know it
was.”
“Les—”
“You almost died, Dev. Because of me.”
• 77 •
• 78 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER NINE
The fog had rolled in off the water, as it often did in the mountains, and the
combination of the haze and the pain and the beer made it so hard to focus on
the narrow sliver of blacktop that ß ickered in and out of Dev’s sight. Her side
ached like a bad cramp from running too hard and too far, the beer rolled
around in her stomach in search of a way out, and she hurt. God, how she hurt.
The echo of Leslie’s words shredded her heart. She’s nothing to me. She’s
nobody.
Dev blinked back tears, but her vision was no clearer. She burned with hot
shame and guilt for what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t meant to
kiss her. Not even to touch her. No. Not true. She could admit it now, couldn’t
she? After what she’d done. She’d wanted to touch her. For so long. She
hadn’t thought of anything else for months except seeing Leslie, being close to
her, stealing accidental touches.
She thought of nothing but her smile. Not true. Stop lying. She thought about
her eyes, how soft they got when Leslie was telling her some special secret. She
thought about the curve of her lips, the way they parted in surprise and grew
moist when she laughed. She thought about her breasts, the way they rose
beneath her T-shirt and swayed just a little in her bathing suit.
Dev choked back a groan and revved the engine harder. She knew the road by
heart, she didn’t need to see it. She leaned into the turns, so low her knee nearly
dragged over the road surface. Admit it. Tell the truth. She’d thought about
Leslie’s breasts, and her hips, and what lay between her thighs. She’d thought
about touching her there while she’d touched herself. At Þ rst she hadn’t
understood, had pretended not to recognize what she felt. But after a while, she
couldn’t pretend that the
• 79 •
RADCLY fFE
ache in the pit of her stomach and the hot hard longing between her legs wasn’t
because of Leslie.
Tears streamed from her eyes. She’s nothing to me. Distantly, she heard the
sound of an engine roaring. Bright lights slashed into the fog, blinding her. She
torpedoed into the Þ rst curve of an S-turn hard and fast, Þ ghting to keep the
big machine upright. She hurt. She felt sick.
The roaring sound was inside her.
Metal screamed over the pavement, showers of sparks ß ared like Þ reworks
on the Fourth of July, and she was burning. Burning with shame. Burning with
pain. Burning with the unspeakable agony of loss.
Dev bolted from the truck and made it as far as the trees at the edge of the
parking lot before she vomited. Shivering, she leaned with one arm against the
rough bark and fought down the next swell of nausea.
“Oh my God, Dev!” Leslie skidded to a stop a few feet away, afraid to touch
her. “Dev, what—”
Not turning around, Dev waved her off. “Go away. I’m okay.” She didn’t feel
okay. She felt like her legs might give out. She hadn’t felt anything like this since
she’d come to in the hospital three days after the accident. Even
then, her body
had been so wracked with pain, she hadn’t felt the excruciating wrench of
betrayal until weeks later. Then it had seemed unending.
“I’m sorry,” Leslie said miserably. “God, I didn’t mean— If I’d known, I
wouldn’t have told you.”
“It’s not because of what you said.” Dev wiped her mouth on the back of her
arm and slumped onto the grass a few feet away. She leaned against another
tree and closed her eyes. “Bad memories. It’s been a long, long time since it’s
been this bad.”
Leslie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She wanted to cry.
Nothing, nothing ever made her want to cry. Not for years and years.
Not like this, not from some place deep inside her where it felt as if wounds
never healed and wrongs were never righted. She hurried down to the truck and
pawed through the cooler Dev must have placed in the back earlier. She pulled
out a soda, popped the top on her way back to Dev, and knelt down close to
her. “Here. Coke.”
“Thanks.” Dev opened her eyes, took the soda, and drank half of it down. She
caught a glimpse of Leslie’s eyes, huge and Þ lled with sorrow. Leslie was pale,
and Dev wanted to stroke her cheek, wanted it
• 80 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
as much as she had Þ fteen years before, and just as then, she knew she
couldn’t. “Don’t go back there, Leslie. Don’t hurt for the past.”
“I let you ride off on that motorcycle,” Leslie whispered. “I knew you shouldn’t
drive. I knew it was wrong. I let you go.”
“I climbed onto that bike, Les.” Dev Þ nished her soda and crushed the empty
can in her Þ st, resting it on top of her knee. “There’s nobody responsible for
that except me.”
“I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
Dev shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize for not feeling the way I felt.
You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dev took a deep breath and hoisted herself up.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going back to the cabin and get cleaned up. Why don’t
we postpone our trip to the lake.”
“Of course.” Leslie stood, reminding herself they were adults now and what had
been between them had ended on a dark night during the last moments of their
innocence. “Are you all right? I can walk you back.”
“No.” Dev shook her head with a small smile. “I’m okay. I apologize for the
little scene. That’s not normal for me.”
Leslie laughed humorlessly. “I don’t quite know what’s happening, but I haven’t
felt like myself since the moment I arrived.”
“Well, don’t let me add to your troubles. I never blamed you then.
I certainly don’t now.”
Leslie watched her walk away, wondering if Dev realized that before she’d
jumped from the truck she’d been crying. Tears that fell in silence, bridging the
years as if they’d never passed. Leslie had wanted to brush them from her
cheeks, but she’d been afraid to touch her, knowing instinctively that Dev was
somewhere far away. Somewhere that Leslie could not join her, because she’d
forfeited that right when she’d closed her eyes, closed her heart, and let Dev
walk away alone, carrying the pain for both of them.
Dev was gone now, and Leslie was left wishing what she’d wished so many
times since she’d Þ nally admitted who she was. She wished she could take
back the lies.
Her BlackBerry vibrated on her hip and she automatically scanned the readout.
Rachel.
“Hi,” Leslie said.
“I got your message. It’s hell down here. The Dow Corning case Þ nally got on
the docket and I’m scrambling to get experts lined up. Of course, summer’s
coming and everyone is suddenly unavailable.”
• 81 •
RADCLY fFE
“Some people have a life,” Leslie murmured as she walked down the long slope
toward the water, scanning the shore for Dev’s Þ gure.
“What? Missed that. I’m in the parking garage.”
“Nothing.”
“You must be bored out of your mind by now.”
Leslie laughed. “It’s different.”
“When are you coming home?”
Home. Leslie considered the word. She and Rachel didn’t live together. They
didn’t share a home. Her condo, where she slept and ate and worked, felt like
an extension of her ofÞ ce. If she had a home, it was her ofÞ ce. That’s where
she really lived. That’s where she was the person she had become. She should
leave. She should go back to being herself.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, keep me informed. Listen, darling, I have to run. Call me.
Oh, how are you feeling?”
“I’m Þ ne.” Leslie wondered why lies so patently transparent were actually
believed.
“Wonderful. Bye, darling.”
“Yes. All right. Bye.”
Leslie walked out onto the dock and sat on the edge in the sun.
The water that lapped two feet beneath her was so clear she could see the
sandy bottom. Schools of minnows darted just under the surface.
She heard Dev’s voice. I’ve always liked Þ sh.
“Oh, Dev. Why didn’t I know?”
v
Dev looked up from where she knelt on the bank at the sound of footsteps
behind her. She waved, feeling a bit of her melancholy lift when Natalie
sauntered down the trail. She was in uniform, her cuffs buttoned neatly at the
wrists, her name tag above her left breast pocket, various patches denoting
department and rank sewn onto her sleeves.
Her dark hair was twisted into a loose bun at the back of her neck and held with
a plain gold clip. Her smile was radiant.
“Hey,” Natalie said. “I thought that was your truck up there in the turnoff.
Weren’t you going out on the lake today?”
“Change in plans. I’m doing a little close-in work instead.”
• 82 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“Uh-huh.” Natalie squatted down beside her. “You could’ve called me.”
“Something tells me you have better things to do than babysit me.
But thanks.”
“Other things.” Natalie skimmed her Þ ngertips along Dev’s jaw.
“DeÞ nitely not better. How about I collect on that rain check tonight.
Dinner?”
Dev hesitated. Natalie’s message was clear. And honest. She owed her the
same. “I think I’d be lousy company.”
“You’d be surprised what a decent dinner and a good wine can do for your
mood.” Natalie stood, reaching for Dev’s sample case as Dev collected the rest
of her gear. “There’s a nice little restaurant on the lake about ten miles north of
here. Tables outside on a patio. Great view of the sunset.”
Dev was tempted. She didn’t look forward to an evening alone in her cabin with
her thoughts because she couldn’t be certain she could keep her mind off Leslie
Þ fty yards away. She deÞ nitely did not want to have dinner at the lodge.
“Dinner sounds good. There’s one thing you need to know, though.”
“Oh?”
“Besides the fact that I like you, it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re very
attractive.”
“Good. I’m glad you noti
ced.” Natalie smiled, and after a quick look over her
shoulder, kissed Dev softly. “As I’ve mentioned, more or less, I happen to think
you’re very attractive too. As in keeping-me-awake-at-night attractive.”
“I’m not sure going there’s a good idea,” Dev said.
“Dinner Þ rst,” Natalie said easily. “After that we’ll see.”
“That okay with you?”
“Yes.” Natalie nodded and ran her Þ ngers up and down Dev’s arm before
stepping away. “It really is. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half.”
“Okay,” Dev said, taking her at her word. She waved goodbye as Natalie
drove off, then loaded her gear and headed back to Lakeview.
She circled around on the lake path so she could get to her cabin without
passing in front of Leslie’s. She didn’t want to see her again for a while.
Until she had time to get everything back where it belonged, safely locked away
behind the walls she’d constructed.
• 83 •
RADCLY fFE
v
Six hours later, when she and Natalie walked hand in hand down the main path
toward her cabin, Dev was pretty sure she’d succeeded in Þ nding her balance
again. The restaurant had been everything Natalie had promised. The food was
excellent, the view breathtaking, and the weather had cooperated, remaining
warm until well after sundown so that they were able to linger over dinner under
the stars. The evening was still comfortable although cooling, and the moon
nearly full, so she didn’t need the ß ashlight she’d picked up from her truck
when she and Natalie had returned.
As with every other time they’d spent together, it had been easy.
Natalie was easy to talk to. Easy to laugh with. Very easy to look at.
Very easy to kiss, Dev thought as Natalie stopped her with a tug on her hand,
then leaned into her and slid both arms around her neck.
Natalie’s mouth was soft and warm, her tongue a delicate tease along the edge
of Dev’s lips. Her breath was sweet, her body Þ rm in the way of a well-toned
athlete, yielding in the way of a woman. Natalie hummed an appreciative sound
in the back of her throat and tightened her Þ ngers in Dev’s hair. The kiss
ratcheted up a notch and Dev felt a trickle of warning. She eased her head
back.
“We’ll attract bears if we keep this up out here. Come up to the cabin and let
me give you that nightcap I promised.”