by Jae
“Absolutely breathtaking,” Meg whispered. “I wish I could add Barb. She was the most tolerant person ever.”
“That’s easy,” the attendant said. “Just type her name.”
Seconds later, we saw it—Barbara Renee Maddox—in shimmering coral light.
“Pink! Barb’s favorite color!” Meg said. “That’s perfect!”
Her hand slipped into mine, and I knew she felt just what I did. We could have stood there forever tracking those names, calling our lovers back into existence. Much too soon we left that sacred place, awed and deeply moved. It was time to get on the road again.
We were closing in on the Florida panhandle before Meg spoke. “You know those completely irrational ideas that seize you in mourning? I’m having one now—the most bizarre sensation. I feel like Barb and Erin are together back there—like they won’t ever be alone or lonely again.”
I let out a long, slow whistle. “That’s one bat-shit crazy idea, Meg. And incredibly comforting. I’ll hold the thought.”
By five, we’d checked in at the state park and found our assigned cabin, which was nearly hidden amid palms, slash pines, and luxuriant green scrub. Meg stopped unloading our gear long enough to admire the crisp, modern living room, complete with fireplace. “I suppose I was expecting something more rustic.”
I opened kitchen cabinets to display dishes and glassware and saucepans. “All the comforts of home.”
“Minus a flat screen,” Meg reminded me.
“Who needs TV when the ocean’s three minutes from our doorstep?”
“You have a point. This place is just what the doctor ordered.”
“Let’s go for a quick walk on the beach, then. We can still catch the sunset. When we come back, I’ll flip you for the queen bed.”
“I don’t mind the room with twin beds,” Meg said. “You’ve done all the work that made this trip possible.”
“That was my pleasure.” Opening the door, I pointed down the path. “The water’s just beyond those dunes.”
Each morning and evening, Meg and I explored the sweeping expanse of shoreline. In between, we spent much of our time snuggled in blankets across from one another on the screened-in porch, listening to the ocean’s roar, reading, sharing an occasional passage with one another. I’d returned to The Poisonwood Bible with its sensitive descriptions of grief—oh, that wrenching moment when Orleanna Price stands on Georgia sands, gazing toward Africa, where her youngest daughter died! But Meg was seeking pure escape on that trip. She’d loaded the full complement of Stephanie Plum novels onto her Kindle. Each time her laughter punctuated our cozy afternoons, my heart turned over at the sound. She was so near, so dear, so untouchable.
“Too bad Evanovich isn’t a dyke,” I said. “Her books would be even funnier.”
“Yeah—I’ve often thought Stephanie’s confusion about Joe and Ranger would dissolve instantly if she were introduced to the right woman.”
“Amen, sister!”
“Maybe we should write a letter to Evanovich suggesting that?”
“I’m in if you are!”
On our fourth night at Grayton, I awoke to a tumultuous storm. Which was why I mistook a muffled knock for booming surf. Then the door to my room eased open, and Meg whispered, “Nat? Are you awake?”
“Yep.” I scooted upright, yanked the sheet over my chest, and reached for the bedside lamp. “Is everything okay?”
“It would be more okay if I could join you.”
“Scared of being alone in the storm?” I teased.
“Scared of being alone in life—scared of being without you.” Meg slipped out of her sleep shirt, into the bed, into my arms.
My skin met hers with a fierce jolt of electricity, but her first kiss was surprisingly shy, gently questing. Entirely unlike Erin’s headlong intensity. It couldn’t be the same, I thought. Not after all those years with Erin. And it shouldn’t be the same.
Maybe Meg felt my hesitancy. “Erin would want this for you,” she murmured. “Barb would want it for me.”
“You’re right, sweetheart,” I said. “I know you’re right. And God knows I’ve wanted it for myself. Desperately. For a very long time.”
Her lips found mine again, more urgent then, more passionate. Thrusting aside every reservation, I leaned into Meg’s kiss, fell into it, lost myself at last in the splendor of her ardent body. And in the ceaseless flash of lightning, the deafening crash of thunder, the world began anew.
BETWEEN THE LINES
BY A.L. BROOKS
Maggie Sullivan lasted until the afternoon of Nora’s second day at Kade Dunn Publishing before asking her out. Nora had been warned about Maggie by some of her new colleagues. She was the office dog. No woman, whether gay or straight, married or single, or anything in between, was safe from her attentions. Absolutely not a person Nora needed to know.
Footsteps approached her desk, and then someone perched on the corner of it.
She swiftly looked up to see who was encroaching so rudely into her space.
“Hi, Nora,” Maggie said, her voice practically a purr. Her body was just a little too close, her warmth reaching Nora across the narrow space between them, and Nora’s stomach lurched in a not-so-unpleasant way as she breathed in the scent of Maggie’s perfume.
“Hello,” stuttered Nora, her heart beating a tad faster.
“I was wondering…” Maggie laced her fingers together across one thigh. “What are your plans for Saturday night?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nora saw David do a little fist pump and reach for a jar containing some cash that sat between the bank of desks. What was going on there?
Slowly turning her focus back to the woman waiting expectantly beside her, she blinked herself out of the sensuous haze Maggie’s presence had lulled her into. Had she just heard that correctly? Maggie was asking her out? In front of everyone? Didn’t she have any sense of propriety? They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since being introduced just the day before. What on earth did the woman think she was playing at?
Blushing, but her response to Maggie hardening by the second, Nora spoke rapidly and quietly. “I have plans, thank you. And if you’re asking me out, well, you can save your breath. I am not interested.” She knew she was overdoing it on the haughtiness, but really, this woman needed to be put in her place. She could admit that Maggie was extremely attractive. Gorgeous, actually, with that short blonde hair that didn’t conform to any particular style, those clear blue eyes, and those soft-looking, slightly pouty lips. But that didn’t matter. Nora wasn’t going to be led down that path again. No way. Looks would play no part in any decision she made about her next relationship. She needed someone who shared her passion for the finer things in life, such as classic literature, poetry, and walks through the breathtaking countryside. Not someone like her ex, who would stomp all over Nora with her beauty and charm.
As Maggie shrugged and then walked away from the rebuff, Nora took a deep breath and focused on the large screen in front of her. Time to get back to her reading. She’d been tasked with helping out on the Twitter and Facebook campaigns for imminent releases. The digital media team she now worked for was planning to blaze a trail through all social media formats to promote these books.
One of the authors, Jo Green, had completed the long-overdue final part to a murder-mystery trilogy, and the release was eagerly anticipated by her fans. Not Nora’s cup of tea at all.
The other book was a new history of the conflict in the Middle East, with emphasis on the relatively recent rise of the Islamic State. The contrast between the two was a challenge in itself—she had to keep the tone and content relevant in each communication she sent out. God help her if she muddled the two up.
Another reason why the shenanigans of Maggie Sullivan hadn’t helped—Nora needed to fo
cus, and being pursued by that woman was a distraction. She hoped her put-down had been firm and clear enough for that to be the end of it.
Before the end of that first week, Nora had also been asked out by Peter from the finance department. Although turning him down was easy, he looked crestfallen, and she hurried away from the finance department with alacrity.
On the following Tuesday, Nora came to the rescue of Joanne from editorial when the coffee machine erupted over her shoes. They joked a little as they cleaned up the mess. They discussed what they were both reading at the moment, and Joanne asked some questions about Nora’s work that showed a pleasing intelligence. Joanne seemed nice. Safe.
“This might seem a little forward,” said Joanne, shuffling her feet and glancing down to the floor and back again. “But would you like to have dinner one night? I’d love to talk more with you about the classics.”
Joanne’s calm, pleasant manner—so different from the brutish confidence Maggie displayed—definitely appealed to Nora.
“Yes, I’d like that.” She smiled as Joanne beamed.
On Monday morning, Maggie strolled in with a grin on her face, a grin that only widened as her colleagues peppered her with questions about her exploits over the weekend.
“So, is the lesbian population of London exhausted and pining this morning?” David asked, and Maggie chuckled.
“Of course, what else do you expect?”
Her salacious tone made Nora’s hackles rise, as did the hoots of laughter from everyone else. Nora scowled and returned her gaze to her screen.
Each day Maggie tried to engage Nora in conversation, only for Nora to shut her out.
“So, I heard a rumour about you,” Maggie said, one afternoon late in the week.
“What?” Nora’s heart raced, much to her annoyance, at the breathtaking smile Maggie sent her way.
“A little bird told me you have a date on Friday.”
Maggie’s gentle wink caused Nora’s cheeks to flame. “If I do, it’s none of your business.” She turned back to her work. God, the woman was so infuriating! Maggie was boastful and pushy, both traits that set Nora’s teeth on edge. At the same time, she displayed a mesmerising confidence in everything she said or did. Her wit and intelligence were captivating and could easily reduce Nora to a heart-fluttering mess. Nora reminded herself of the bragging at the start of the week and steeled her resolve to ignore her body’s reactions to Maggie’s…charms.
Nora shook off all thoughts of Maggie as she and Joanne walked out of the office on Friday evening. They shared a carafe of red over a light meal at one of the brasseries on the Chiswick High Road. Over dinner they discussed Jane Austen. It was nice. Nothing spectacular, but nice. So when Joanne asked if they could do it again, Nora concurred, and they arranged to meet the following Wednesday. There was no kiss goodnight, for which Nora was grateful. She didn’t need any of that nonsense getting in the way right now. And, she supposed, a physical attraction to someone didn’t have to be instant, did it? So, the fact that she felt nothing remotely like that for Joanne was neither here nor there. Was it?
The note was waiting for her when she got to work bright and early on Monday morning. There were a handful of people in, including that obnoxious Maggie, who had not stopped smiling at her every opportunity she got since that day Nora had turned her down.
She smiled now, as they stood near each other at the bank of lockers, and Nora found herself returning it, which only made Maggie smile wider, her eyes sparkling.
Nora blushed furiously and looked away. Why did her body keep betraying her like this? She was supposed to be ignoring the woman, not giving her any encouragement. But the smiles from Maggie lately were more friendly than lecherous, and part of her couldn’t help responding to them. She stared at Maggie’s face, pondering her predicament. Oh God, she was doing it again! She tore her gaze away, but not before she saw Maggie’s wistful expression. What was that about?
She set aside her curiosity and redirected it to the note taped to her locker. The inside of her locker. The locker that required a four-digit combination to open it, the combination code she had not shared with anyone. How had someone got into her locker to leave the note?
And then she read the words on the printed-out note.
You looked so beautiful on Friday night, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And hearing you talk so eloquently about Jane Austen made me tingle, as I love her works as much as you do. I would love to share more of this with you, our mutual love of the classics. I can picture us snuggled up on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon, each of us with her nose buried in a book, but with our bodies wrapped around each other, sharing our breath, our warmth.
The note finished with a quote, one from Austen herself.
There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.
Why had Joanne broken into her locker to leave her this note? On the one hand, it was romantic—deeply romantic, she had to admit. On the other, there was something a little disconcerting about how it had been done.
She wandered back to her desk with the note in her hand, and looked up to find David staring at her questioningly. She got on well with him, and they were fast becoming friends. He was a quiet, unassuming geek, with a mop of black hair and small, wire-rimmed glasses that made him look much younger than his thirty years.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I… Someone left a note in my locker. My closed locker.” She handed over the piece of paper without thinking—maybe Joanne wouldn’t want it shared, but it had perturbed Nora too much not to share it with someone.
“Ooh, a secret admirer?” His tone was playful.
“No, actually, I think it’s from Joanne. We went out for supper on Friday, and we talked about Jane Austen a lot. So it must be her.”
“Aw, and she left you a cute note afterwards—how romantic!”
“Well, yes, but don’t you think it’s a bit…creepy? You know, breaking in to my locker?”
David smiled gently. “She probably just saw you enter your combination one day, remembered it, and thought it would be a cute thing to do. She seems nice enough, doesn’t she? I mean, not creepy in real life?”
“Of course not. She’s very nice in real life.”
“Well, there you are, then! So, Friday was nice, yes?”
“Yes, it was. Nice.” There was that word again. Nice. She glanced down at the note when David handed it back. It wasn’t exactly nice. The note was emotional, passionate, and romantic. It talked to Nora’s soul in a way she wasn’t entirely comfortable with, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. And why had Joanne included that quote at the end? Was it her way of saying that she, too, thought there was no spark between them? But if this was a romantic note, why put in a quote that suggested they weren’t actually attracted to each other? Baffled, she shoved the note into her jacket pocket before taking her seat.
Footsteps made her look up to see Maggie returning from the kitchen with a steaming mug in her hands.
“Oh, God. Here comes Maggie. Presumably we will now have to suffer a retelling of her weekend conquests again.” She turned her gaze to her screen to blot out the sight of the approaching woman.
“I doubt it,” said David quietly, leaning across the space between their desks. “I heard her talking to Michelle in the kitchen on Friday, saying she was off the market. And that all that bragging last Monday was just to keep everyone happy, but there wasn’t a word of truth in it. Seems she’s met someone she’s crazy about, and all other bets are off.”
“Seriously? The serial one-night stander has found someone she can concentrate on for more than five minutes?” Nora’s tone was bordering on scathing, but she couldn’t help it.
David raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Apparently. Totally smitten, she said, and determined to p
rove to this woman that her past is all behind her.”
Nora snorted.
When Maggie reached their bank of desks and sat down, David spun in his chair to meet her gaze. “So, lover girl, how many this weekend?”
Maggie smiled. Almost shyly, if that could be believed. She glanced at Nora and then back to David.
“Quiet one for me this weekend. Caught up on stuff at home. Did some research for the Christmas webpage plans. Took Monk out for a lovely long walk in Epping Forest.”
“Oh, I bet he loved that.” David grinned and turned to Nora, who was eavesdropping but trying to make it look as if she wasn’t.
“Have you seen a picture of Monk yet?” he asked her.
She shook her head slowly. “Who or what is Monk?”
Maggie chuckled throatily, and the sound sent inexplicable quivers down Nora’s body. “My dog. Here, take a look.” She pulled a small photo from her wallet and handed it over.
In the picture was the most adorable little scruff of a dog Nora had ever seen.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed before she could help herself. Maggie’s delighted expression made her breath hitch in her throat.
“Yep, that’s my boy.” They stared at each other.
“But, seriously,” interrupted David, and Nora almost hated him at that moment. “No conquests? At all?”
Maggie’s smile seemed forced. “Nope. Like I said, a quiet one.” She turned to her workstation, indicating that the conversation was over.