Heartwood

by Catherine Lane

  Josie held up a well-loved copy of Heartwood she had found on the coffee table in the main room.

  She was curled up in the chair next to her bed in such a familiar way; Beth screwed her eyes shut in response. Concentrate on the words. They’ll get you through.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, where was I? Bonnie had just found the memo that her boss had written, framing Daisy. That was clever the way she found it. Is this what’s going to bring them together?”

  “Read and find out.”

  Josie read well. No surprise there. She had a lot of her grandmother’s talents. It was so strange, though—listening to a book she knew intimately but hadn’t read in over fifty years. She remembered vividly sitting down at the desk in her writing room to create that scene. The horror that Bonnie had felt and the overwhelming desire to protect Daisy at any cost. Even now she could still see the pencil sliding over the composition book in a rhythm inspired by the clicking of Dawn’s crochet needles behind her. And yet, nothing about it was recognizable—not the words, the phrases, the feelings. How could that be?

  Her mind drifted to the doctor. He had been very nice. Another thing to thank Maggie for. It had been a long, long time since anyone had looked her in the eye and seen her strength. Almost a lifetime, in fact. True, the purple bruise on her arm still throbbed where he had probed it, but maybe that pain was more about the fact she hadn’t taken action earlier against Vivienne and less about the bruise itself. She rubbed the spot and hoped that both feelings would eventually fade away.

  Right now, all she had to do was listen to Josie, whose voice drifted to her a like a soothing melody. The warm sun streamed in through the open window and covered her like a blanket. Pretty soon, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  The dream played out as it always had.

  Beth stood on the stoop outside of Fern House next to Dawn on a beautiful, fresh morning. The redwoods rustled in the early breeze; the sun peeked out from behind the trees—a few delicate rays stretched out to bathe them in a golden glow. Everything was all right. Dawn was standing right next to her, telling her favorite joke about the Hollywood agent, laughing hard before she got to the punch line. All Beth had to do was reach out and encircle her, and they could move forward into the future that should have been theirs for the taking.

  She lifted her arms, fingers already trembling as they were just inches away from Dawn’s body.

  “Don’t do it. You’ll be sorry,” a man’s disembodied voice called out, shattering the calm.

  Beth frantically looked around. Jimmy, dark as the morning was light, popped up between them, forcing Beth to move back.

  “You foolish girl. She’s not going to throw her career away for you.” His mouth opened wide as if it were on a hinge, and black tendrils of night spun out, darkening the rosy sky.

  When the shadowy wisps had almost reached Dawn, Beth shouted, “Get the hell away from her.”

  Anger and indignation welled up in her; she grabbed Jimmy, hit him with her fists, and then with superhuman strength flung him to the ground.

  As his hip hit the stone of the stoop, he shattered into a thousand pieces. With a deafening crash, brittle shards of what had been James Montgomery spilled onto the driveway and scattered into the brush at its edge.

  She hadn’t run or frozen at the first sign of trouble. She had acted, shown Jimmy exactly what she had thought of him, and saved Dawn, who had never been able to save herself, from the monster. Jimmy was gone. She turned to Dawn; her body tingled with energy. She had stood up for herself. She had done it!

  Dawn’s laugh, full of sharp edges, cut through the air. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”

  All the Jimmy pieces on the stoop and in the driveway skittered across the ground and came together, building one upon the other to form a new Jimmy.

  “I think she did.” His laugh was deeper than his wife’s, but just as harsh. “Tell her, sweetheart. Tell her why it didn’t work.”

  “I never loved you,” Dawn said to Beth. “It was all a game. I never loved you… I never loved you…”

  A hand shook her awake. Beth jolted back from the big green eyes only inches from her. “Stop…saying…that.” She reached out to push Dawn away.

  The face that had been mocking her was now only full of concern.

  Beth stilled, and the girl who was so like Dawn and not at all like her pulled her back into reality—a reality where Dawn didn’t have a chance to love her or scorn her since she was long gone.

  That pain hit her like the first time she had heard the news at the local hospital where they had treated her ankle. A nurse had run into her room to tell the doctor the incredible news that Dawn Montgomery had just died after giving birth to a daughter in their little hospital. Yes, right down the hall. They were going to be famous! The doctor’s face had glowed with excitement.

  Only a few feet away, shock and denial had closed in around Beth, threatening to suffocate her. All these years later, she was still fighting to take a breath that would finally fill her lungs. She lurched to the side table next to her bed and fumbled over a bottle of water and around the clock.

  Josie moved to the side of the bed and pulled the napkin of pills out of her jeans pocket. “Are you looking for these?”

  Beth froze. What was in that napkin tugged and yanked at her. “I… I…” She fixated on luminous green eyes so full of hope and optimism. There was no doubt at all swirling in their depths.

  “No.” She let the girl’s belief carry her over the chasm of her longing. “I need to get up.” With small jerks, she swung each foot to the floor. Her body tingled with need. Her fingers fluttered as they searched for a pill that wasn’t there. “Get my mind off it. Let’s go out and watch Nikka and Maggie circle around each other. They put on a good show.” The last sentence came through clenched teeth.

  “I know. They should just get a room already.” Josie helped her up.

  She could feel the girl’s gaze on her. Slowly, she met the look. Again no judgment, no demand for explanations, just good will.

  “I’m proud of you, Beth.”

  “Don’t be. It’s just one no when I’ve already said yes a million times. One small step.”

  “Take a lot of steps, and you’re walking down a road.”

  “Let’s just start with the hallway.”

  “Hello!” Maggie said brightly as they appeared in the kitchen. “You’re up. Right in time for supper.”

  “I’ve slept the day away.”

  “I can think of worse things to do.”

  Not with the dreams I have. She kept that thought to herself as she slid into the chair that Maggie pulled over for her. “It smells delicious.”

  “It should.” Nikka joined them from the living room. “She’s been working most of the afternoon.”

  “So have you. I didn’t want you to toil alone.” Maggie ran an appreciative gaze up Nikka’s body to her face.

  The flirting show had begun right on cue. Beth tried to focus on that and on the wonderful garlic smell that permeated the kitchen.

  “Wow, this is really good,” Beth said. The chicken melted in her mouth. “I can’t believe you spent all that time in my house and only made me soup and sandwiches.”

  Both Nikka and Josie nodded, their mouths full.

  “Well, those were Vivienne’s orders, not mine, and—” Maggie bit her lip and cringed. “Sorry.”

  Maggie glanced at Nikka, who shook her head slightly.

  Not very subtle. There was something they weren’t telling her. It could wait. She was safe. That was all that mattered. No need to ruin the dinner. Besides, her nerves felt like live wires; she wasn’t sure she could take much more. “Where did you learn to cook?”

  “Cordon Bleu.”

  “In Paris?” Nikka asked.

  “I won a cooking contest and got a scholarship. Don’t look so surprised.”

  “It’s just that…”

  “I know. Ho
w could I end up back in the Springs, making cupcakes?”

  “Well, I mean…”

  “Have you ever tasted one of my Lemon Lovers?”

  “No, and—”

  “Relax. I’m just messing with you. I was there for just a semester. My Cordon Bleu was in the City.” Maggie grinned, and Nikka rolled her eyes in response. The push-and-pull between them was so strong that Beth could almost see a thick, corded rope stretching out across the table as if they were playing some amorous game of tug-of-war. Was that the way she and Dawn had been?

  “It’s not what you do that’s important,” Maggie said. “It’s how you feel when you do it that really matters.”

  Beth nodded. Maggie, for sure, wore her heart on her sleeve, but the intensity behind her words spoke to something else. People had told her, just like they had told Beth, that her life choices weren’t correct.

  “Is that why you made those little flowers on my plate? And the happy faces?” Beth asked.

  “I didn’t know you noticed.”

  “Sometimes they were the best part of my day. The only thing that would get me through. Seeing what little surprise you’d send up.”

  They shared a smile.

  “What about intellectual property law? Is that fun?” Josie paused from shoveling in forkfuls of chicken only long enough to ask Nikka the question.

  “It is. I love it.”

  “Really?” Maggie spooned another thigh onto Josie’s plate.

  “Now who’s being closed-minded? It’s a very exciting field.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows, but Beth had the distinct feeling that it was just an excuse to look at Nikka, who was, admittedly, extraordinarily good-looking. She wished Dawn could have seen this world where two women could openly flirt with one another.

  “IP law is all about ideas and how new ones are created. We encourage innovation in the world and facilitate the free flow of information. Thanks to us, you can sing ‘Happy Birthday’ right here at this table for free. No synchronization license needed.”

  “We already sang it all the time.” Josie grabbed another piece of bread.

  “True,” Nikka said, “but what about the monkey that took a selfie? The courts are battling whether the monkey or the photographer owns the rights. You got to admit that’s one fun case.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Okay now, you’re just making things up.”

  “Want to bet? Josie, search for grinning monkey selfies.”

  Josie pulled a phone from her lap and, after a few taps, turned the screen around and showed them a crested macaque monkey with amber eyes and huge white teeth, grinning from ear to ear.

  “No way. The monkey took that?” Maggie motioned for the phone and took a closer look.

  “Yeah, he did,” Nikka said. “This nature photographer was in Indonesia, and allegedly, the monkey just grabbed his camera and started shooting. And therein lies the problem. Does this photograph belong to the monkey or the nature photographer, or does no one own the copyright and it should fall into the public domain for the public to use however it wants? There are valid arguments for all three results.”

  “That’s what you do?” Maggie asked.

  “Well, it’s not all birthday songs and monkey selfies, but yeah, we try to fight for self-expression and creativity. And I like to fight for the people who need help protecting their ideas.”

  This last comment she directed at Beth, who met her gaze briefly before looking down at her lap. Her hands were clenched together so tightly her knuckles were white. How could she have not noticed? She pulled them apart to rub one palm with her other thumb.

  “Thank you,” Beth said softly. “All of you. I…” She faltered and looked around, not knowing where to rest her gaze. She didn’t want to meet any scrutiny, which, if she were being honest, she had always run from her whole life.

  Josie reached out to pat her arm. In this light she was, once again, the spitting image of her grandmother. Her face, however, was open and unguarded as if she had no secrets to hide. The difference between them hit Beth like a jolt.

  “You don’t care what other people think, do you?” Beth asked.

  “No.” Josie shook her head. “I don’t. Never have.”

  Was that what their problem had been? Beth cared only what Dawn had thought about her, and Dawn had cared about what everyone thought. The reason, though, was the same. Neither she nor Dawn had had faith in themselves. Even after every critic had praised Heartwood to the skies, and every lesbian she met had told her how it had changed her life. Even then, she had never written another adult book. She didn’t have any faith in her talent, in her love for Dawn, in herself.

  Three sets of eyes, all different colors, gazed at her with the same look. They all believed in her.

  She took a leap. “I…don’t know what would’ve happened if you all hadn’t shown up yesterday. I don’t even want to think about it. Just the future. You can get my rights back?”

  “I don’t want to make any promises, but yes, I think so,” Nikka said. “To the short story and the memoir.”

  “The what?” Had she heard Nikka correctly?

  Nikka licked her lips and paused as if choosing her words very carefully. “The letters…to Dawn Montgomery…after she died.”

  Beth reached for Josie’s hand, and it was there instantly. She grasped it and held it hard. “That’s what the press conference was about? The letters? Not about ‘The Tarot Card’?” The truth fanned out around her. Beth took in a ragged breath. “The letters… I never meant for anyone… They’re just angry musings about life.”

  “Don’t worry, Beth.” Nikka leaned in. “I really think I can stop it. You were coerced into signing that contract when you weren’t really competent to give consent.”

  A dark shadow fell over the table. Beth dropped her fork on her plate and placed a hand on her stomach. Dinner was careening around inside as if she were on a roller coaster.

  “What’s in the letters?” Maggie jerked as if someone, probably Nikka, had kicked her beneath the table.

  “Nothing. Everything. I really only asked one question and created a thousand answers. I just… I’ve always wondered if Dawn really loved me.”

  “Of course she did,” Josie said.

  Beth let go of her hand as if it had become red hot.

  Nikka raised her eyebrows in reprimand. Only Maggie voiced her outrage. “Josie!”

  “Well, she did.”

  “How do you know?” Beth swallowed hard. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

  Josie’s gaze darted back and forth. Finally, she shrugged. “She told me.”

  Beth closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. She had trusted this girl. Once again, she had been sucker punched. When she opened her eyes, Josie was gone from the table.

  A few moments later, she came back, holding a black composition book—a twin to every book that had sat in the writing room at Fern House.

  “What is that?” Beth’s question was barely more than a whisper.

  “Her diary…when she was with you.”

  “Shut the front door.” Maggie’s eyes widened into round circles.

  Nikka hit her on the shoulder and threw a pointed glance.

  Beth studied the tattered notebook that Josie offered to her. Could it be true? Had Dawn kept a diary? The white faceplate was blank and gave nothing away. If there was anything inside, it was as if Dawn hadn’t really acknowledged it.

  Beth wanted to grab it with both hands, pore over every word, and finally, after all this time, find out what Dawn had really been thinking. She raised a hand only to drop it. “How? Where did you find this?”

  “With her sketchbooks. At my grandfather’s. I was going to tell you earlier. I don’t know why I didn’t. Sorry, it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

  Josie slid the book onto to the table and pushed it with one finger closer to Beth. “Maybe right now isn’t the best time either. Here it is, though, if you want it.”

  She
did, desperately. She just didn’t know if she was strong enough to actually open it. After all, she had been burned by Dawn before.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I totally want to read it.” Maggie spun Nikka away from the sink, where she was just finishing the dishes, and pointed to the table.

  Dawn’s composition book lay like a tempting morsel on the table. When she and Josie had retired to the bedroom, Beth had left it behind.

  “Don’t you want to read it?” Maggie wagged her head back and forth and sent her a hopeful look.

  “Of course, I do,” Nikka said. And she did. She would gladly give her right arm to sneak a peek.

  “Maybe just a page or two?” Maggie’s fingers snaked out to the notebook.

  “You’re terrible.” Nikka darted close to playfully slap her hand away.

  In a move perfected on the rock wall right outside, Maggie twisted her hand to catch Nikka’s before it dropped.

  “I told you, I look for the best handhold.” Maggie interlaced their fingers one by one. “And then when I get it, I don’t let go.”

  Maggie’s hand was calloused, not unpleasantly so, and her fingers curled around Nikka’s with a tensile strength that made all other hands lifeless by comparison. She marveled how strong yet soft her touch was and the how a current of energy flowed up her arm.

  Maggie squeezed her hand tighter and, like an angler with a fish on a line, started to pull Nikka closer until their bodies were almost touching. Maggie’s energy swirled around her. It was so strong it was almost humming. Then their gazes met.

  Oh God, she’s going to kiss me. Nikka didn’t move.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Nikka jumped back at the voice.

  Josie stood at the end of the hallway, hand to her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

  The heat which had been smoldering in Nikka rose to her cheeks.

  “Um…” Josie danced in place. “Beth decided she wanted the book after all. She says she’s not going to read it, but I think she’s working up to it.” She slid between the two and grabbed the notebook off the table. “Carry on.”