She received this type of correspondence each year. They usually began similarly. Dear Dr. Rossini—or, sometimes, Dear Tess—I can’t believe I’m writing this to you, or How can I begin to tell you how I feel? From the more romantic, she even had a few love sonnets written in her name. She took these letters seriously. She had no desire to hurt anyone’s feelings or shatter someone’s confidence, but they always left her feeling a little unsettled, all too aware of the void that remained in her life. She would never consider having a relationship with a student, and their interest in her served as a painful reminder that her fear of suffering another loss prevented her from taking the risk with anyone.
What, though, was she supposed to say to these young women, and sometimes men? Although her orientation was fairly well known around campus, she still occasionally heard from the male population. She realized that she could always just say it was against the rules for faculty and students to date, but that seemed like such a cold response. Besides, there were plenty of instructors who didn’t play by that particular rule, so that stance wouldn’t necessarily hold without argument.
It had been much simpler for her when she had been with Alicia. Her answer had been pat. I’m very flattered by your interest, but I am in a committed relationship with someone I love very much. I would never want to mislead anyone. You are a bright…She would then go on with words of encouragement and reassurance that pertained on an individual basis. Since Alicia’s death, however, responding to such notes was more difficult. She no longer knew what to say without going into more personal detail than she preferred.
As she continued to stare at the blank screen, she considered the ease with which she had been able to deal with JoAnn Bennett, a psychology professor at the college, when she had invited Tess to dinner. That seemed different, though. JoAnn was close to Tess’s age, an equal professionally, someone with enough history of her own to understand a loss like Tess had experienced. Tess had felt comfortable sharing more with her. When JoAnn had asked her out, it had been simple enough to explain that she still had healing to do from her past with Alicia, and even now when JoAnn periodically checked in with her or invited her to an informal event, Tess was able to decline with merely an apologetic look.
“Can’t you just lie?” Dusty had asked one night while reading over Tess’s shoulder. “Just tell them you’re with somebody. Tell them you’re with me.”
The thought had made Tess smile, but the answer to the question was no, she couldn’t just lie. Or rather she wouldn’t.
She considered herself honest and open, and her students, particularly ones who developed crushes on her and were courageous enough to voice their feelings, deserved at least that much. She always found some way to handle such situations. She trusted that this time would be no different.
The Waterford clock on the corner of the large, L-shaped desk began to chime.
Tess glanced at the face—five o’clock.
The house had been quiet for the afternoon, with only herself and Maggie at home. She had managed to finish outlining the class syllabus for a course on contemporary British novels that she was teaching for the first time in the spring as well as get caught up on most of her e-mail. All that remained was this one message.
She leaned back in her swivel chair and gazed out the doorway of her bedroom.
Located at the very end of the second floor, the room that had been hers for the past three years overlooked the full length of the wide hall. So many times, Tess had followed its path past the alabaster walls hung with numerous photographs—many depicting various members of the McInnis and Rae families intermixed with pictures of past tenants at social gatherings. This house, and its sometimes odd string of inhabitants, had given Tess a miracle when she had needed one most.
The car accident that had taken Alicia’s life had swept Tess’s away as well. The telephone call she had received as a result of the emergency card in Alicia’s wallet had started the spiral that would later result in her losing everything. She had rushed to the hospital to find her partner in the intensive care unit already on a ventilator and connected to every kind of monitor imaginable. The doctors encouraged Tess to contact the parents who hadn’t spoken to Alicia in the eight years she and Tess had been together. Upon their arrival, they mandated that only real family be allowed into the ICU to see their daughter.
Tess never laid eyes on her partner again, though Alicia never woke to know that.
Four days later, Alicia’s body was shipped back to Iowa for funeral services that Tess was told didn’t concern her.
Within a month, she received a court order evicting her from their house which was still in only Alicia’s name—a legality they had always meant to remedy, but hadn’t gotten around to. The edict demanded that she take only her clothing and personal items.
Engulfed in grief, she hadn’t had the strength to fight, and now, in retrospect, she realized it had been a blessing. Without Alicia there calling her name down the hallway or leaving wet towels balled up in the corner of the bathroom, the house felt like a tomb. Left on her own, Tess doubted she ever would have been able to leave it, and yet, it was no longer a place for life.
This was, however. Tess glanced around her. Even when she had first moved in, when the walls were bare and the furnishings comprised only her computer and a bed and dresser that Maggie had supplied, it had been her haven, her retreat for solitude, comfort, and healing. She had spent the first couple of months either buried in her work or isolated in her room, emerging only for an occasional meal or sometimes light conversations with Maggie when no one else was home. The nights were filled with tears, longing for the past, and the loneliness of the present.
Little by little, however, Maggie lured her out under any and all pretenses—help moving the large, potted fichus downstairs, assistance assembling the new patio furniture, company while cleaning the fish pond in the backyard. Each task would lead to tea and conversation, gradually to tears, and eventually to laughter.
The decorating had been Maggie’s idea as well. Tess recalled the day vividly.
“I’m goin’ down to the mall. They’re havin’ flannel sheets on sale before the cool weather comes along.” Maggie stood in the doorway of Tess’s room, wearing the same determined expression she always wore when she had made up her mind to pull Tess into the world for a while. “I could use some help pickin’ them out. Care to join me?”
Tess turned and considered the firm set of Maggie’s jaw, her steady gaze that said she wouldn’t leave without Tess in tow. She smiled. “I just can’t imagine how you managed before I moved in.”
“You don’t have any idea what it takes to keep a house like this runnin’.” Maggie’s eyes flashed with amusement.
Tess studied this precious gift she had no doubt had been sent to her by the Goddess. The laugh lines around her eyes attested to how thoroughly she enjoyed her life, and the sincerity in her manner promised genuine caring. Even after living there for only a few months, Tess knew exactly how much it took for Maggie to run the household the way she did and the effect this one woman had on the worlds of those around her.
Tenderness and gratitude welled within her. “Yes, I do,” she said softly. “And I would love to get out for a while and go to the mall with you.”
A broad smile brightened Maggie’s face. “Good. We’ll need to pick up a set for Dusty as well. She says hers are gettin’…” She hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Nubbly, if I remember correctly.”
Tess laughed and rose to find her shoes.
“I’ll be waitin’ for you downstairs.” Maggie turned to leave, then called over her shoulder. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find somethin’ in the housewares department for your room as well. If you’ve decided to stay with us, you should get some color around you.”
That was the day it had started—Tess’s gradual delivery back into the world of the living, the very first steps of rebuilding a life without Alicia.
Now, three year
s later, rich hunter green carpet and matching curtains with maroon accents warmed the once stark white walls. The far end of the large rectangular room held a Victorian-style double bed with an antique, silvery finish and glass-topped nightstands. The hand-painted ivy and berry-wine-colored blossoms that twined around the curved tops of the head- and footboards—compliments of Maggie’s artistic talents—seemed to flow directly from the floral pattern of the cotton comforter that covered the mattress. A tall, open-backed shelving unit separated her sleeping area from the section she used as an office, and the walls offered several tasteful nudes of women and a painting Tess had found at an artisans’ fair of the mythological muses picnicking in a meadow. These days her private living space gave her peace and contentment rather than the emptiness of the past.
A quiet knock drew Tess from her reminiscence. She turned to find Maggie standing in the exact position she had imagined her in moments earlier. Still enveloped in the memories of how much this woman had done for her, she extended a warm smile. “Have I told you lately how much you mean to me?”
Maggie leaned against the doorjamb, Baxter at her side. “My, my, what’ve you been doin’ up here?” Tenderness tempered her tone.
“Oh, just counting my blessings, I suppose.”
Chuckling, Maggie straightened. “Well, if you’re done with your real work, why don’t you come downstairs and help me count some other things? I’ve got lasagna noodles, tomatoes, all sorts of things that need countin’.”
Tess laughed. “Is that your way of telling me there’s no way you can make dinner without me?”
“Exactly.”
“I’d be glad to help.” Tess glanced at her computer screen. She could finish that last e-mail tomorrow. She rounded the end of her desk and headed down the hall with Maggie and Baxter.
As they neared the stairs, Tess looped her arm through Maggie’s and slowed to a stop. “I was serious about what I asked. I want you to know what a special friend you are to me, how much I’ve grown to love you. I don’t think I tell you often enough.”
Maggie patted Tess’s hand. “You tell me every day, darlin’, every time I see your smile.”
In the kitchen, Maggie retrieved two packages of Italian sausage from the refrigerator while Tess gathered a pot for the noodles, a large skillet for the meat, and a baking dish. The two of them had made this meal together many times and had it down to an art form.
“I saw you in and out of Della’s old room this afternoon. Is it all ready for the new tenant?” Tess asked. She placed the pot in the sink and turned on the faucet.
“It wasn’t the room that was the problem. Della left it spotless. It was that bathroom of Dusty’s.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “The girl’s a slob when there’s no one to keep watch over her.”
The long bathroom that stretched between Dusty’s room and the third rental on the second floor at times developed its own persona, actually evolving into what seemed like a separate entity walking around the house. Its main purpose appeared to be causing conflict rather than the simple function of eliminating waste and washing away the day’s dirt. Everything about it had been argued over repeatedly—its cleanliness, its decor, whether the window should remain open or closed, whether or not the shower could or should be used for drying nylons, T-shirts, hats…on and on.
Tess felt guilty at times for not being involved in any of the disputes or their resolutions. She felt relatively certain she could successfully share the bathroom in question with Dusty, but the room connected to it was too small to act as both a bedroom and an office combined. She needed the extra space of the one she now occupied.
“No, you don’t.” Maggie interrupted her musings as if reading her mind. “Don’t you be thinkin’ this is your problem to solve. You pay extra for the bigger livin’ area and a bathroom to yourself. Besides, I decided long ago that anyone movin’ into that other room upstairs, whether she knows it or not, has signed up for some interestin’ lessons with Ms. Dusty Renee Gardner in this lifetime. And vice-versa.” Maggie emptied both packages of meat into the frying pan and turned on the burner beneath it.
Baxter surveyed the kitchen activities with obvious dogly enthusiasm. He sniffed the air as the sausage began to cook.
“It just seems so silly to let it cause so much trouble.”
“I don’t know why you always think that you’d have any easier time than anyone else usin’ the same bathroom with her?” Maggie’s voice trailed upward at the end as if she were asking a question.
Tess ignored it. She knew why, but for some reason, had never been able to share it with Maggie. Perhaps she was embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I’d probably be just as upset as everyone else who’s had the experience.” She smiled and found the noodles in the pantry. “What did you say the new tenant’s name was? Eve?”
“Mm-hm, Eve Jacobs. And to tell you the truth, whatever friction might result from that bloody bathroom is the least of my concerns about her and Dusty.”
“What do you mean?” Tess set the pasta on the island counter and opened the refrigerator.
Suddenly, Baxter was her best friend. As she leaned forward and retrieved the cheese from the deli compartment, he pushed up under her arm and landed a wet kiss on her cheek.
“That’s very sweet, Bax, but you still don’t get anything.” Laughing, she stroked his head.
“It’s not usually my practice,” Maggie said, “to go meddlin’ into anythin’ that would naturally go on between anyone livin’ here, but Eve’s a bit different from what we’re accustomed to.” She stirred the meat and added some seasoning. “She’s very confused about herself. She’s leavin’ her husband to try to figure out if she’s a lesbian or not.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“No. From what I gathered talkin’ to her this mornin’, she’s more of a thinker than a feeler. But she must’ve felt somethin’ somewhere to be questionin’ her sexuality.”
Tess tore into a package of mozzarella then opened a drawer to find the grater. “What’s that have to do with Dusty?” she asked, rummaging through the contents.
Maggie laughed. “You should’ve seen the show that girl put on. It was like watchin’ the dance of the peacock. She was more than a bit interested in Eve.”
Tess tensed slightly. “Really?” She had never met any of the women Dusty dated, but she sometimes wondered about them. What were they like? What was Dusty’s type, as they say?
“Mm. But I think she scares the poor girl to death.”
Tess giggled. “I suppose if you weren’t sure of your sexuality Dusty would be pretty scary.”
Maggie nodded and removed the skillet from the heat. “I think I’m goin’ to have a chat with her. She has enough girlfriends. She doesn’t need one here at home.”
The front door opened and the small wind chimes that hung from the top of the door sang wildly with the force.
“I’m home.” Dusty’s voice rang out. “Anybody here?”
The dog dashed from the room.
“In the kitchen,” Maggie called. She glanced at Tess. “Speakin’ of our proud little peacock.”
“Hey, bud, how ya doing?” Dusty’s booted footsteps, accompanied by the clicking of Baxter’s toenails on the teak floor, grew louder as the pair moved down the hall then appeared from around the corner. Her black leather jacket hung open to reveal a fluorescent green T-shirt beneath, and the denim of her blue jeans hugged the contours of her firm thighs.
“Mmmm. Something smells good.” She ran her fingers through her hair, disheveled by the helmet she now carried, and smoothed it back to its more customary state. She scanned the kitchen and grinned. “Lasagna? Boy, am I glad I came home.”
Tess smiled and pulled her gaze from Dusty. She began grating the cheese.
“I’m glad you came home, too, darlin’,” Maggie said. “There’s somethin’ I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Be a love and put the pasta in the water for me, will you? Bu
t wash up first.”
Baxter settled in the corner, apparently giving up his quest for any treats.
Dusty set her helmet on the counter and rinsed her hands at the sink. “That’s what you want to talk about?” She grabbed the noodles and ripped open the package. She dumped them into the bubbling liquid.
“No, it’s about Eve.”
“Who?”
Maggie frowned. “Eve Jacobs, the woman you met here this mornin’?”
Dusty stood poking at the portion of the noodles still sticking up above the water level. “Oh, yeah. Is she gonna take the room?”
Maggie stepped up beside her. She swatted the back of her hand with a fork then stirred the contents of the pot until everything disappeared below the surface. “Yes, she’s movin’ most of her things over tomorrow.”
Dusty shifted and leaned against the tile edge of the built-in stove. She smiled at Tess while Maggie’s attention was on the boiling pasta.
“I want you to stay away from her.” One of the things for which Maggie could always be counted on was directness.
Dusty’s jaw went slack. She turned to face Maggie. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Maggie wagged the fork in front of Dusty’s nose. “Play your flirtin’ games somewhere else. This girl’s fragile right now. She doesn’t need to be toyed with.”
“Toyed with?” Astonishment resonated in Dusty’s voice. “Me?”
Tess shook her head and smiled to herself. She knew it was now Maggie with whom Dusty was playing. Whether or not Dusty had ever had any real interest in Eve Jacobs would never be known. When it was all said and done, she would, of course, do whatever Maggie said, but in the meantime, she would have some fun. Tess watched with the same intrigue she always felt when witnessing one of these performances.
Dusty was an enigma, a conundrum that defied a solution. She seemed to expend a great deal of energy convincing the rest of the household of her shallowness and lack of any genuine emotion, yet Tess had seen the warm, caring side of her that belied the very notion. She allowed everyone else to believe, at times, that entire days were spent in bed with a hangover when Tess knew she was curled up in her room with a book she had borrowed the night before.
Threads of the Heart Page 5