Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  “I did eat them.” Riley gave a low growl and suddenly rolled over on top of Fiona and pinned her down. “That wasn’t my parents you spoke to,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “That was me disguising my voice as them.” She threw her head back, letting out quite an impressive howl, then buried her face in Fiona’s throat.

  “Cut it out, Red. I’m serious. Stop it. You’re scaring me.” Fiona slapped her on the ass and Riley let out a yowl, but it didn’t stop her from making those sloppy guttural sounds as she kept nibbling, softly biting Fiona’s neck in a mock attack.

  The sensation tickled her, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

  “Still ticklish after all these years?” Riley said into her neck, and then another howl rang out from somewhere.

  “What—” Fiona tried to sit up and listen. “Is that a real coyote? One of yours?”

  “Mm-hm.” Riley’s growl became a muffled laugh as she pushed her back down and kissed her breasts.

  “It sounds like it’s coming from inside the house.”

  “Outside,” Riley said, paying her no mind as she trailed her lips down to her breasts.

  Fiona would have sworn the howl came from below, the basement maybe, and in answer to Riley’s own playful baying. She listened, waiting for another, but the house was quiet again, filled only with the sounds of Riley’s kisses and her own heavy breathing as she became aroused for a second time.

  “I want you again,” Riley said, her voice hoarse as a hand slipped between them and found its way between Fiona’s legs. “Mmm…and I think you want me, too.”

  Fiona glanced at the clock on the nightstand, trying her best not to respond to Riley’s touch. “It’s after eleven. I need to get going.”

  “I think you need to come before you go.” Riley smiled as she explored her. “Can’t you feel how hard you are? I can’t in all good conscience let you leave like this.”

  New desire gushed between Fiona’s legs, and she opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t articulate a single word, so exquisite was the pleasure of Riley’s rhythmic strokes. Her mind was slipping. “I…Riley, please…I can’t be late.”

  “You won’t be late. I promise. I’m going to make you come very fast, okay?”

  “Okay…” Fiona heard herself say as she submitted, grabbing Riley’s short hair in her fists and losing focus as she began to peak. “That feels so good.”

  “I know it does.”

  “You make me crazy, Red.”

  Riley covered Fiona’s mouth with her own, kissing her deeply and shifted herself so Fiona’s thigh was between her legs. “I want to come with you,” she whispered, her hips falling into rhythm with her hand and bringing them both to a fast climax.

  Fiona pulled away from their kiss and took Riley’s face in her hands, wanting instead to watch the ecstasy flood those strangely golden eyes. This picture of passion would stay framed in her mind forever. Riley’s lips parted, her body stiffening as she let go. Liquid heat poured over Fiona’s thigh, her vision blurring as she lost herself in the delirium of a shared orgasm.

  “I love you, Fiona Bell,” Riley said when it was over, heaving on top of Fiona.

  Fiona clung to her, hiding her tears and reveling in the residual spasms. “I love you, too,” she said, instantly forgiving Riley for the unsolved mystery of her disappearance long ago and the secrets she wasn’t ready to share.

  * * *

  It was just before twelve when Fiona pulled into Dr. Spencer’s driveway. She grabbed the bottle of water in her cupholder, took a long drink, then quickly checked herself in the rearview mirror. She looked a mess, like she’d just had wild sex. In a race to get to Edy on time, she’d thrown on her clothes, struggling to button her shrunken shirt while Riley watched in amusement. Then she’d washed her face and spritzed herself with the bottle of Prada on Riley’s bathroom counter. The scent would cover any telltale signs of their lovemaking, but now she smelled like Riley. One whiff, one look in Fiona’s eyes, and Dr. Spencer would know what had gone on. How awful was it that her therapist had been coerced into babysitting her daughter, so that she—a married woman—could run off and have sex with the therapist’s colleague? How disgraceful was that? Fiona brushed her hair with her fingers, trying to get the knots out. “Now she’ll know what a terrible mother you really are,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. Of course, Dr. Spencer had probably already concluded that Fiona was a terrible mother, remaining in an abusive marriage with a child.

  She felt herself emotionally unravelling. Her hands began to shake. All she wanted was to get home, put Edy to bed, and call Riley to say good night as she’d promised to do. After that she’d sit alone and get a grip, collect herself.

  Fiona’s headlights shining in the living room window must have signaled her arrival, because the dogs started barking, and the door opened. Edy, Barbara, and Dr. Spencer were all smiles. They invited her in, but Fiona declined, apologizing for keeping them up this late. Besides, standing in the dim glow of the yellow porch light was more comfortable. She felt less exposed. And she was glad when the two little dogs came out to greet her. Bending to pet them allowed her to look away from Dr. Spencer while profusely thanking them for watching Edy.

  When they finally got in the car, Edy blabbered nonstop about how much she loved Black Jack and Peanut—about the great dinner they’d had, the game they’d played, and the movie they’d watched. She was quiet for a moment before lifting her nose and looking at her mother. “You smell like Riley.”

  “Do I? It must be because I was sitting in her car. Anyway, I’m so glad you had a good time tonight,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Did you have a good time, Mom?”

  “I did. It was really nice spending time with a friend…you know, like you do with Olivia.”

  “I’m glad Riley makes you happy. You’re always sad around Daddy.”

  Barring those intermittent domestic disputes, Fiona always thought she did a reasonably good job of masking her misery. But kids were as astute as dogs when it came to picking up on moods and underlying emotions.

  Fiona reached for the water bottle and unscrewed the cap as they drove. “You make me happy, too, you know. You’re the joy of my life. Don’t ever forget it,” she said and took a long drink.

  “I know, Mom,” Edy said. Then out of the blue she asked, “Are Dr. Spencer and Barbara lesbians?”

  Fiona almost spewed water across the windshield. “Geez, Edy…I don’t think that’s any of our business.” She looked over at her. “What makes you ask that?”

  Edy shrugged. “They act like Olivia’s dads do.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know.” Edy shrugged. “They just seem like married people. Not like you and Daddy, but they act like they love each other…like Mark and Charles. It must be nice to have two dads.”

  “Gee, thanks. If you had two dads, you wouldn’t have me.”

  “I take that back. I’d rather have two moms.”

  Interesting. Fiona smiled to herself but didn’t respond, and it wasn’t until they were almost home that Edy said, “Is it true that homosexuals have to go to hell even if they’re really nice people?”

  Fiona tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Who told you that?”

  “Grandma and Grandpa…and Daddy always says it whenever he sees them on television. He calls them the devil’s people.”

  As if Jim himself wasn’t one of the devil’s people. “Yeah, well, sometimes the devil’s people pretend to be Christians. Jesus preached love and kindness. Real Christians don’t hate or hurt people.”

  “Then I don’t think Daddy’s a good Christian.”

  “No, Edy, he’s not. And as far as Grandma and Grandpa go, don’t forget that they’re my parents. I grew up hearing the same things they tell you. They raised me to believe that being gay was a choice…and a sin. But between us, strictly between you and me—”

  “Don’t worry, Mom.” Edy rolled her eyes. “All our conversations are
strictly between us.”

  “Good. Well, then I don’t think gay people choose to be the way they are. We can’t change our feelings about who we love, any more than we can change our talents or the color of our eyes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we’re all born a certain way,” Fiona said as she turned into their driveway. “You’re really good at math, right? So what if someone from our church told you that being good at math is a sin, and that unless you stop solving math problems and getting high grades on your tests, you’re going to hell?”

  “That’s crazy!” Edy scrunched her face. “I can’t help being good at math. It’s just the way I am.”

  “Exactly. And what if someone told me that being an artist is a sin and that I should stop painting and designing furniture?”

  “But God made you talented that way, Mom. If you stopped being an artist, then you wouldn’t be you.”

  “Exactly. That’s why gay people turn away from the church. And who can blame them? If someone told you God doesn’t love you for being born the way you are, and won’t let you into heaven, you’d probably think what’s the use in praying or believing if Jesus doesn’t love me. But you know what? Not all Christians think being gay is a sin. Our church is evangelical, as you know.”

  “I know. We’re fundamentalists. Charismatic Christians.”

  Big words for a kid just turning eleven, but Edy heard them all the time. “But there are other denominations—different types of Christians, like Catholics, Methodists, Baptists. And some, like Presbyterians, don’t consider being gay a sin.”

  “Really?” The idea seemed to appeal to Edy.

  “Really. You know that big white church on the corner we always pass?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They welcome everyone, no matter who they love. In fact, last night, when you were having dinner at Olivia’s and I stopped by Riley’s to pick peaches for those pies, I met the reverend of that church.”

  “What was he doing at Riley’s house?”

  “Picking peaches like me,” she said, thinking it best to leave it at that. “Two men or two women can even get married in his church.”

  “Wow!” Edy released her seat belt and got out of the car, swinging her arms happily as they marched up the porch steps and went inside. “Maybe one day he can marry me and Olivia. When we grow up.”

  “Oh? And what would Olivia have to say about that?”

  “I don’t know.” Edy let out a hopeless sigh, her shoulders slumping. “She has a crush on Logan.”

  “Who’s Logan?”

  “Some stupid boy at lunch. All the girls have a crush on him. Except me. I just want to be with Olivia.”

  “I see.” Fiona had always had her suspicions about Edy. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise, but it did. God forbid Jim caught wind of her leanings. He’d lose his temper and blame Fiona for it. Not that he knew she’d ever been with women, but she always thought he sensed her lack of enthusiasm when it came to sex. More than once he’d made offhanded remarks about her not enjoying intercourse like “normal” women.

  “Well, you know what? Mommy doesn’t care who you marry, boy or girl, as long as they love and make you happy. But you have plenty of time to decide that, missy. Right now, it’s bedtime. Get your pajamas on. And brush those teeth.”

  “I know, I know,” Edy said, making a dramatic display of dragging herself down the hall.

  Fiona closed and locked the door behind them. “Do you want a glass of milk first?”

  “Nope. I’m stuffed. But thanks, Mom. And I’m really glad we had this conversation,” she called back.

  Fiona stood there, trying to decide if her prepubescent daughter had just come out to her. What an amazing child. How she and Jim, given their loveless marriage and dysfunctional lives, had managed to raise such a great kid, she didn’t know.

  She stood there for a moment and lifted her wrist to her nose, the scent of Riley’s perfume sending an unexpected rush of desire through her. It broke her heart not to be able to spend the night, not to know when or if she’d ever be with her again. But right now she needed to hear her voice, to curl up with her phone in the dark and pretend she was still beside her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Peggy sat propped up in bed reading when Barbara came into the bedroom carrying two cups of chamomile-lavender tea. A week had passed, and mid-August nights were growing chilly. It was nice sleeping with the windows open again, drifting off to the lulling of crickets and hooting of owls instead of the mechanical droning of the air conditioner.

  “Is Riley driving with us to the powwow?”

  Peggy yawned. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What?”

  “Riley. Is she riding with us tomorrow?”

  “She’s picking us up at eleven. Have you heard from Tom?”

  Barbara handed her a cup. “We just got off the phone. He’s meeting us there at noon.”

  Peggy sat up, holding her tea in two hands, and took a sip. “Mm, thanks, sweetheart,” she said, setting the cup on her night table and flopping back onto the pillow just as the high-pitched yipping of coyotes sounded in the distance. They were especially vocal toward the end of summer.

  Barbara laughed. “Is that our girl galivanting around at this hour?” Sometimes she and Peg would lie in bed and get the giggles, imagining Riley was leading the canine chorus, even though they knew it was a different pack.

  “If it is,” Peggy said, “she’s doing more howling than speaking these days. I’m getting worried. She hasn’t mentioned a word about Fiona all week. All she talks about is how well Luna is adjusting and showing us pictures on her phone.”

  Barbara hadn’t seen Riley since they watched Edy last weekend, but she knew Riley had finally broken down and taken the kitten home the other day. “So things are actually working out between the cat and the coyotes?”

  “So far so good. It’s been five days, and they haven’t devoured her yet.” Peggy looked over at her getting into bed. I imagine Luna saying to Widget, ‘Oh, Grandma, what big teeth you have!’”

  Barbara waggled her eyebrows as she crawled across to Peg’s side of the bed and peered down at her. “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

  Peggy laughed. “I didn’t know I was on the menu tonight.”

  “You’re always on the menu.”

  “Then I suggest you skip the appetizer and get right down to the entrée before I fall asleep.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to fall asleep and miss out on this,” Barbara said, pulling the covers down and moving between her legs. The soft lamplight caught in Peg’s green eyes. They were half-closed, looking very sexy, and her auburn hair spilled over the pillow. How Peg managed to stay so beautiful she didn’t know. Suddenly wanting her, Barbara took charge, hooking her arms around Peg’s knees and pulling her forward.

  “Ow-ow!” Peggy groaned and laughed at the same time.

  “Sorry.” Barbara frowned. “Your lower back again?” Before taking showers and making dinner they’d spent two hours doing yard work, Peggy weeding the flower beds and vegetable garden while Barbara mowed the lawn.

  “Just a little stiff.”

  “I’m almost out of sympathy.” Barbara looked at her sternly. “How many times do I have to tell you not to stand and pull weeds? I bought you a portable stool to sit on so you wouldn’t have to bend over. And where is it?”

  “In the garage…” Peggy made a pouty face. “I forgot. I promise to use it next time. It’s my own fault,” she said, letting out a little grunt of pain as she straightened her hips. “I should be spanked.”

  “You should be spanked.” Barbara grinned and gave the side of her butt a playful slap before climbing out of bed and going to the medicine cabinet. “But because I’m a nice pharmacist, I’ll get you some ibuprofen instead.” Barbara shook out two pills from a bottle and took them over to her.

  Peggy swallowed the pills with her tea, then lay back down and smiled. “Thanks, Doc.”


  Barbara reached for one of the extra bed pillows. “Looks like my entrée needs some lumbar support. Lift yourself up so I can seat you on a throne.”

  “How kind of you, mistress.” She raised her hips so Barbara could slide a pillow underneath her ass.

  “Better?”

  “Mm…much better.”

  “Better for my neck, too,” Barbara said, rolling her head in a circle like she was warming up to exercise.

  Peggy giggled. “Are we getting too old to be this horny?”

  “It’s your fault. I wouldn’t be this horny if you weren’t so fucking hot.”

  Peggy looked up at her seductively, taking her breasts in both hands and rubbing them until her nipples were hard. Barbara leaned down, kissing her, then slid beneath the covers, careful not to wake the dogs. Keeping them locked out of the room during sex was a lost battle. All they did was whine and cry and scratch at the door. With little dogs and a large bed, it was easier to eliminate the distraction and just let them curl up on the far side of the bed.

  But then there came another distraction. A loud humming. Barbara stopped trailing her lips along Peg’s inner thigh and listened. “Do you hear that sound?”

  “I do.”

  Barbara raised herself up. It sounded like it was right outside the house, the rough idle of an engine.

  “It’s probably Jake next door.”

  Jake was their neighbor’s son. He had a Mustang. “If it’s him, he’s seriously modified his exhaust system…and he’s parked in our driveway.” Barbara climbed out of bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” she said and ran downstairs.

  Enough moonlight was coming in that she didn’t have to turn on the lights. She made her way through the shadowed living room, scaring herself when she stepped on a rubber squeak-toy. She gave it a good kick with her toes and crept across to the black-and-white curtains in the bay window, parting them just enough to see out. A car was there. Not in the driveway, but in the road, smack in front of their driveway, waiting to get someone’s attention. As soon as the curtains moved, the engine revved as though inviting a race.