Threads of the Heart

by Jeannie Levig

  Addison had been in her mid-twenties when they had gotten together and had very little experience with other women. Coming to Maggie directly from her only other relationship, she had never had the opportunity to play the field. In addition, Maggie was thirteen years older than Addison and had always feared that as time passed Addison might find her less attractive and want someone younger. She thought of herself in her twenties, of her first love, Julia, and how much Maggie had hurt her. Julia had been older and ready to settle down, but Maggie had been a bit wild and wanted adventure. Unlike Maggie at that age, though, Addison had seemed sure of what she wanted at the time she and Maggie had made their commitment. And now that my age is showing? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re forty-nine, not a hundred and forty-nine. Addison loves you. She’s been with you for over a decade and has never once given you reason to doubt her.

  She forced the matter from her musings and pulled a chair out from the rattan patio set. She settled into the cushioned seat at the table. “Well, Baxter, lad. If Eve Jacobs decides to take the room, we’re goin’ to have less than a bit of time to ourselves today. We’d best get to enjoyin’ it.”

  The dog stared up at her and cocked his large black head as if to contemplate her words.

  She chuckled and stroked the underside of his chin. The peace she always found in her backyard enveloped her. She closed her eyes and raised her coffee mug to her lips.

  She remembered her astonishment twenty-five years earlier, the day she had first ventured up into the Hollywood Hills with her inheritance from her grandfather and her Realtor and discovered this lushly hidden neighborhood surrounded by the urban chaos of Los Angeles County. At the time, the beauty of the house itself had seemed simply a perk of its gorgeous locale. Without hesitation, she had made it her home—and later their home, hers and Addison’s. In the beginning, it hadn’t been her intention to take in renters. That had simply evolved—a friend going through a breakup needing a place to stay, a friend of a friend in town for a temporary job, and before she knew it, she had a houseful. She learned quickly that she loved the energy of so much life around her.

  She listened to the melody of the birds in the pine trees that covered the mountainside sloping high above the three-story house and the soft splash of water flowing from the lava rock fountain into the fishpond. A cool breeze feathered across her cheeks. The last remnants of her earlier tension eased with its caress, and she relaxed.

  It was no surprise to Maggie that so many of her tenants over the years had found solace and refuge in this place during their times of trouble or change. The house seemed to have a vibration that drew those with wounds to heal or transformations to make, and Maggie did her best to be a presence that nurtured and supported those who came through her home as they found their peace. She believed in the interconnectedness of life, that what you give to another, you give to yourself. She felt it everywhere, every time she offered a smile, every time she cooked a meal, every time she shared a moment. Caring for others brought her peace.

  She opened her eyes and took in the hot pinks and purples of the bougainvillea that lined the back wall. She smiled. Perhaps Eve Jacobs’s peace could be found here as well.

  Chapter Two

  Eve Jacobs gave one final tug on her emergency brake, securing her metallic gold Volvo into its parking space on the steep slope of Skycrest Drive. She couldn’t imagine leaving her car on such an incline every night, worried about whether it would hold or if she’d remembered to turn the wheels toward the curb—and what about the commute to the office? From here, it would be almost twice as long as from the home she’d shared with Jeremy and the boys for the past eight years.

  Who did she think she was kidding, though, really? It was neither the hill nor the drive to work that made her want to turn and run from the room for rent her aunt had mentioned. In truth, it was her own fear of what the future might hold. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like bats. Her hands began to tremble.

  What was she doing here? Why couldn’t she just be happy with a wonderful husband and two beautiful sons—with the life she knew and at least a part of her loved so much? Why couldn’t she simply go back to ignoring those other feelings, pushing them down deep within her as she had done for so many years? That thought, however, terrified her even more than the house across the street.

  No, she had to find out, once and for all. She needed to know who she really was and what she really wanted. She steeled her resolve and studied the home of Maggie Rae-McInnis for whatever hints of the woman’s character it might reveal.

  Set back into the hillside, the large, slate-colored house stretched tall above the landscaped gradient that acted as its front yard, and a lush blanket of purple flowers spilled over the edge of the sidewalk at street level. Several azalea trees grew on either side of one of the lower multi-paned windows.

  Eve drank in the beauty. If the interior of the house and its inhabitants were even half as inviting, maybe she could find asylum here long enough to sort out her life. With renewed courage, she pushed open her car door and stepped out into the late-morning sunshine.

  The warm air fanned the bare skin of her legs and arms, and the sweet smell of pine caressed her senses as she crossed the road and started up the L-shaped concrete staircase to the double front doors. A hunter green Ford Explorer sat on one side of the driveway, and a maroon Sunbird occupied the parking space at the curb.

  Eve combined the final step onto the stoop with an adjustment of her purse strap over her shoulder. Okay, now be calm, she reminded herself. Don’t talk too fast. Don’t use big words. Don’t let your eyes dart around the room like a kid in a toy store. She didn’t want to appear nervous. She straightened to her full five feet five inches and pressed the button for the bell. She listened to the aria of the chimes from inside—“I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.”

  Hurried footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and with a jerk, it swung open.

  Eve jumped but held her ground. She stared into the fiery features of a blonde in a baseball cap and extremely short cut-offs. The word dyke leapt from her chest and clouded Eve’s vision.

  She dropped her gaze to the woman’s legs, muscular but not overly developed, her bare feet, slender but masculine in their stance. This couldn’t be Maggie. Aunt Carolyn had described Maggie as gentle-spirited and warm. This woman was…Eve didn’t know what this woman was. She let her stare travel back up the loosely-clad contours of the blonde’s torso. She felt a flurry in her stomach—not butterflies, not even bats. Pterodactyls, maybe?

  “Like what you see?” The surprisingly feminine voice jarred Eve from her daze. A mocking grin spread across the woman’s lips, and she leaned against the doorjamb. “I could show you more.”

  Eve’s mouth went dry. “I, uh…” She swallowed. “I’m here regarding the procurement of your room?” It came out more as a question than a statement.

  The woman studied her. “Procurement? What’s that, a new kind of paint?”

  “What?” Damn. She was doing it. Whenever she was nervous or unsure of herself, her vocabulary developed a mind of its own. Her therapist called it maintaining a one-up position. “Oh, no, I mean rent. I’m here about the room you have for rent.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The blonde’s bold stare moved from Eve’s face to her neck, then down to the cleavage peeking out from the vee of her sundress. “I guess you don’t look much like a painter.”

  Eve suddenly felt conspicuous in the light cotton fabric that draped her body. Her long, flowing hair and her immaculately manicured nails, both of which usually boosted her confidence, now seemed frivolous, even foofy. She felt like a groomed French poodle under the scrutiny of a wild mountain wolf.

  “I’m Dusty Gardner. And you’re…Dang it, what did Maggie say your name was?”

  Oh, thank God. This isn’t Maggie. “Eve Jacobs. I’m, uh, here about the room.” Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She sounded like a moron.

  Dusty’s grin broadened. “So you s
aid.” She held firm in the doorway, obviously enjoying Eve’s discomfort.

  Eve’s anger rose at the woman’s arrogance, and she shifted her weight. Perhaps a one-up position would be beneficial in this case. “Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, do you think it might be possible for you to apprise Ms. Rae-McInnis of my advent?”

  Dusty shrugged then straightened. “Sure. If you want to just advent your way in here, I’ll get her.” She stepped back a pace and, with a wave of her hand, motioned for Eve to enter.

  Relieved not to be face-to-face with the annoyingly intriguing woman, Eve moved into the foyer, but her respite was short-lived. As she passed Dusty in the narrow doorway, her arm brushed the front of Dusty’s T-shirt. A chill ran through her. She found herself wanting more of a touch but at the same time desiring nothing more than to get as far away from those feelings as possible. She couldn’t conceive of living here, not if this kind of emotional conflict accompanied it.

  “Wait here,” Dusty said, her voice entirely too close to Eve’s ear.

  Eve nodded and watched the woman’s long strides carry her out of sight. Grateful for the solitude, she struggled to collect her thoughts. Get a grip.

  She thought about the woman’s T-shirt, the word dyke. Her stomach clenched. God, I can barely think of myself as a lesbian, never mind dyke or butch or femme, or God knows how many other words I don’t even know. She was so out of her element. Okay, she couldn’t live here. That was definite. So, now what?

  Now, it was just a matter of conducting a polite conversation with Aunt Carolyn’s friend, going through the pretense of looking at the room, then saying she’d get back to her with an answer shortly. Later, a quick phone call and the ordeal would be over—but then what? Where would she go? Back with Jeremy to live what might be a lie? She closed her eyes and fought back tears.

  She had to gain some clarity. She recalled her recent conversation with Aunt Carolyn. “Take it one step at a time. You’re only thirty years old, sweetie. You don’t have to figure out everything right this minute. Go talk to Maggie. Make a commitment of only a month if you want, but give yourself at least that.” Aunt Carolyn was wise. Eve knew that.

  Her nerves began to settle. She mentally began to repeat the mantra she’d learned to depend on years earlier—breathe in…take in the scenery…breathe out…take in the scenery. It was Aunt Carolyn’s favorite motto, along with life’s full of choices. Although, Eve didn’t care for the latter nearly as much.

  Breathe in…take in the scenery…She glanced around the circular foyer. To the left, she noticed two doorways leading to different rooms, and to the right, a closet and a hallway. Breathe out…take in the scenery.

  Directly ahead sat a mahogany commode cabinet, the sort that, Eve knew from Jeremy’s infatuation with antiques, had graced the bedrooms of many a farmhouse in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. At that time, a fluted ceramic washbowl and pitcher would have occupied the marble top, but now the polished stone provided the perfect platform for a bronze depiction of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. Behind the sculpture, a flight of steps had a miniature bronze on every stair edge, many of which were small nudes, graceful and nubile in their innocent poses.

  Eve released a deep sigh and began to relax. The atmosphere of the interior of the house, at least what little of it she could see, held the same enticing serenity that had captivated her from the outside—such an emotional contrast to what had greeted her at the door. In fact, if it hadn’t been for that Dusty person, she’d have been sure about a decision for the first time in years.

  “Good mornin’ to you, Eve. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Eve turned her attention toward the voice and met a pale blue gaze, friendly and warm, nothing like Dusty’s.

  A small-framed woman with dark auburn hair extended her hand. “I’m Maggie.” She carried herself with an air of nobility in spite of her casual attire and small stature. Dressed in khaki walking shorts and a forest green blouse, she appeared at ease with her task of interviewing a prospective tenant.

  Eve smiled and reached to accept the handshake, but at the sight of the large black dog coming up behind Maggie, she froze.

  The animal’s head came to Maggie’s waist, and the breadth of its chest was almost that of Maggie’s. Granted, she was fairly diminutive, but it still presented an impressive picture.

  “Oh, this is Baxter. Don’t you be worryin’ about him. He’s harmless.” Maggie laughed and rubbed his head. “You’ll get used to him.”

  Baxter looked up at her adoringly.

  “What kind of dog is he?” Eve asked, mostly for the sake of conversation. The animal still made her nervous.

  “A Rottweiler.” Maggie turned and, with Baxter at her heels, took a step into the room behind her. “Why don’t you come make yourself at home, and we can get to know one another a bit.”

  Eve followed, but came to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway. The view stole her breath. The entire far wall of the living room consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, with a sliding glass door that opened onto cement decking. Clear water flowed down a lava rock fountain into a sparkling pond, and lavish greenery sprinkled with splashes of colored blossoms filled a small space beyond a lush lawn. High on the wooded hillside reaching above the ivy-covered back fence, two deer stood munching on a shrub. It could’ve been a mural.

  Eve stared in awe.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Maggie’s tone possessed pride.

  “It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Eve whispered.

  “Why don’t you sit down and enjoy it for a spell? I was just about to brew some tea. Would you care for some?”

  Eve tore her gaze from the splendor before her and took in the long sofa that dominated the center of the decidedly feminine room and pale rose carpet that brought out a hint of pink in the alabaster walls. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  Maggie smiled.

  Eve watched as Maggie made her way through an open dining area and into the kitchen beyond. From what Eve could see through the doorway, it was bright and cheery. She settled into her cushioned seat and shifted her interest to the far wall where a flagstone fireplace sat dormant in the early fall climate, but she could imagine quiet flames on a winter evening casting their shadows out to mingle with those of the numerous candles placed about the room. Above the fireplace hung a beautiful marble wall sculpture depicting a woman caught in the moves of a dance, the lines of her body and flowing gown forming a gracefully subtle, musical treble clef.

  The peace that embraced Eve overwhelmed her. Aunt Carolyn had been right—this would be the ideal environment in which to examine her feelings, evaluate her life, and make her decisions. She set her purse down and easily envisioned herself living in these exquisite surroundings.

  Maggie returned carrying a small tray of cookies and placed it on the beveled glass and wood coffee table. “The tea will be ready shortly,” she said, easing into one of the occasional swivel chairs at either end of the couch. “I thought we could start with these.”

  “Thank you, they look delicious.”

  “Your aunt’s told me a bit about your struggles. I’m sorry to hear you’re havin’ such a tough time with it all.”

  Eve tensed at the immediate focus on her dilemma. She considered Maggie.

  Maggie’s soft features and smooth complexion gave her the appearance of a nurturer, a motherly type, but her expression reflected a more direct manner. A knowing smile deepened the laugh lines around her eyes. “Be warned, I can be a bit blunt at times. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

  With a sigh, Eve chuckled. “No, it’s all right. As Aunt Carolyn said, that’s what I’m here for, to face my questions. And she assured me that if I am willing to face them, you’re someone who can help.”

  “Well, I’ll be happy to offer what I can, but you’re the only one who really knows your own sexuality.”

  Eve stiffened. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to sit he
re in broad daylight and discuss her quandary of whether she was straight or gay with a complete stranger. The only other living person she’d ever told had been Jeremy—and Aunt Carolyn, of course—but even that had only been recently.

  “Many of us have been through it to one degree or another, but still, it’s always an individual thing.”

  “I just have so many questions spinning around in my head.”

  Humor accompanied by a tender glint flickered in Maggie’s eyes. “This would be the place for you, then. You’ll have a whole houseful of lesbians to ask.”

  Lesbian? There it was. Eve felt the blood rush from her face.

  Maggie examined her. “Not ready for the word yet, are you?”

  Eve looked away for only an instant then returned her gaze to Maggie.

  With a cluck of her tongue, Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let Dusty know that.”

  The name alone brought back the fluttering in Eve’s stomach, but the concern in Maggie’s expression strengthened it to a churning.

  “Don’t let me know what?”

  Eve froze. She already knew that voice.

  Maggie swiveled in her chair to face the entrance from the foyer. Arms on the rests, her legs crossed, she was the epitome of nonchalance. “If we’d wanted you to know, I wouldn’t be sittin’ here warnin’ Eve off you, now would I?”

  Slightly fortified by Maggie’s air, Eve shot a glance at Dusty.

  “Oooh.” Dusty slapped her hand to her heart. “You’re a cold woman, Maggie Mae.”

  “And don’t you be forgettin’ it, either.” Playfulness danced in Maggie’s eyes.

  A low whistle revved, then shrieked, from the kitchen.

  “Be a love,” Maggie said to Dusty, “and bring the kettle and cups for us, will you?”

  “Oh, sure. I can fetch and carry for you, but I can’t be let in on any secrets.” Dusty’s mutterings faded in the opposite direction.