Heartwood

by Catherine Lane

Nikka took another step back. What the hell was she doing? Josie had come in just in time. She seemed to be rescuing everyone this weekend.

  “Look.” Nikka waited until Josie had left. “I’m sorry. I…I… This is really fast for me.” She rubbed her neck. “Especially with all that’s going on.”

  “Okay.” The gleam that had been in Maggie’s eyes faded fast.

  “You’re not mad?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  Yes, I’m mad! But not at you.

  Maggie listened to Nikka move around the bedroom next door, most likely getting ready for bed. Sleep for her was still hours away. Too much energy. She paced around the small room so fast that static electricity crackled in the 1970s shag carpet.

  Shit on a brick! She knew better.

  In the cooler, which seemed like a lifetime ago, she had understood how to handle Nikka. Slow and steady. Nikka needed to roll things around in her head for a long while before she would feel comfortable with any action. That had only been reconfirmed at the rock wall. Yep. She had heard her loud and clear. Let her make the first move.

  So what did she do? Grab her hand in the stupidest way. God help her. If Josie hadn’t come in, she would have tried to kiss her.

  Suddenly, her mind exploded with clarity. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t running the show. She always attacked life as if she were climbing a mountain: finding her route as she went, only looking up to the top, not waiting for others to catch up. Forging ahead was exciting, for sure, but in the long run, climbing up with someone would be better.

  Dammit! Her brother was right.

  Everybody climbed her mountain differently. Some even approached it the way Nikka did: deliberately, cautiously, with plans. Was this what George meant when he had told her grow up? She needed to downshift and try Nikka’s pace.

  Only one problem, though. Moving slower gave her more time to look around…and down. Often, the bottom was a long way off, and she didn’t need to be reminded that a horrible fall could happen. That fact made the climb a million times harder…and scarier.

  Nikka punched the pillow into a ball and turned onto her side. Impossible to find a comfortable position in an unfamiliar bed. Especially with Maggie right next door.

  What on earth was she doing? Running a marathon? All that energy had to go somewhere, she guessed.

  Nikka scrunched up the pillow even tighter and pulled herself into a sitting position. Why even pretend sleep was near? She rubbed her chin with her forefinger and thumb as she fell into her familiar routine of cataloging the day.

  Despite the way it ended, her day had been productive. Several almost finished motions sat on her computer desktop downstairs; they still needed little tweaks, but for the most part, she was ready to file on Monday. Beth seemed to be making progress in that two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of way. Nikka had big hopes for the diary. If it was even half of what Josie said it was, it could give Beth the closure she so desperately needed.

  Then there was Maggie. Nikka had enjoyed that moment out at the rock wall. No, it was more than just fun. Maggie had been eloquent, passionate, and sexy—all the things that Nikka was looking for in a woman. She had definitely felt something there and in the kitchen, too. She couldn’t deny that anymore. Her fingers moved from her chin to her lips, running a nail across the sensitive skin. Why, then, hadn’t she stayed around to finish what they had started?

  One, it was stupid to start something when her life was already in upheaval. Two, they didn’t even live in the same town. Three, she was going to have to work like a dog to find new employment. Four…she was scared.

  Of what exactly?

  All that energy, for one. Maggie was a fireball wrapped inside an explosion. But Nikka was also afraid of opening herself up, of the raw intimacy that Maggie offered.

  Her last real relationship had ended in disaster when Nikka made law review and Gemma didn’t. Since then, there had been a week here and a month there, but no one really.…until now.

  Five… Shit, there was no five. One through three were all conquerable. Just four—she was scared shitless.

  One point didn’t make a list. How was she supposed to constructively build a case for or against Maggie if there was no list?

  Maybe she would just have to take a leap to the next handhold and make her way up this mountain.

  Beth got out of bed and crossed to where Josie had made up her pallet for the second night in a row. A backpackers’ pad and a sleeping bag didn’t seem all that comfortable, but Josie was sound asleep, curled on her side the way Dawn used to sleep. She was wearing a tank top for pajamas, and its thin strap exposed the cherry tree on her shoulder and chest in all its glory. She really was an exquisite artist.

  Stiffly, Beth bent down to pull the sleeping bag up an inch. That was better. She didn’t want Josie to be cold. When she grabbed the dresser to pull herself back up, she froze. There on its top, waiting quietly, biding its time, was Dawn’s diary. She knew Josie had gone back to get it, but not where she had put it.

  Like a siren’s song, it called to her. Take me. Read me. I can fill that empty space in your heart. A hand that wasn’t entirely under control reached out for it. Fingers brushed its surface and then froze.

  Why was she so sacred? Josie had said Dawn had written that she loved her. It could so easily be a lie. After all, it was just as common to fool yourself as someone else. She could certainly attest to that fact.

  She swung back to the bed empty-handed…and empty-hearted.

  The next morning, the same three women sat around the kitchen table, nursing their second cups of coffee. Maggie had thrown a dollop of vanilla ice cream into the mugs with the first and second go-around. One look at everyone stumbling into the kitchen and she had declared that they all needed a sweet beginning to the day.

  “This is really good.” Nikka licked her top lip. “It’s like dessert all dressed up as a breakfast necessity.”

  God. She was pretty even with an ice cream mustache. Maggie forced herself to stop ogling and looked away.

  Beth smiled too, at Nikka or catching her staring at Nikka—Maggie wasn’t sure.

  She seemed better. She wasn’t clenching her hands or rubbing them obsessively anymore. Instead, they lightly gripped the mug in front of her.

  Nikka’s phone pinged, and she picked it up with an apologetic glance in their direction. “Sorry, I’m trying to keep track of what’s going on in the outside world.”

  “Well?” Beth asked.

  “Truman and Steinbrecker has finally released a statement.”

  “What is it?”

  Nikka flicked at the screen. “It says that you aren’t well and that in deference to one of their most cherished clients, when it all proved to be too much, they arranged for you to leave. Oh, and apparently you’re very grateful.”

  Beth almost choked on her coffee.

  Nikka bit her lip as she looked up from her phone. “This is Lea’s first move. We definitely need to be at the courthouse at nine o’clock sharp to get the ball rolling. How long will it take us to drive down the hill?”

  “An hour and a half,” Maggie said.

  “Okay, now add whatever else you need to make me feel comfortable.”

  “Two hours, then.”

  “We’ll leave here at five thirty.”

  “That’s crazy—” Maggie bit her lip. Nikka wasn’t messing around.

  “This has to work. Those letters can’t be published.” Beth pursed her lips. “Nikka, when this is all over, will you stay with me? I’ll need someone to take care of this kind of stuff if it ever comes up again.”

  Maggie’s heartbeat quickened. Nikka might stay!

  “Let’s just get through tomorrow. You may want bigger guns than I have. But I’ll do everything I can to help you right now.”

  Now Maggie’s heart pounded even faster. Nikka hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said no either.

  “Hey, you guys.” Josie shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing he
r eyes. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

  “Because I didn’t need to.” Beth couldn’t keep the quiet triumph out of her voice.

  “That’s fantastic!” Josie’s smile lit up the room, and despite her agitation, Maggie made a mental note to put a few of Dawn Montgomery’s films on her Netflix queue.

  “So what are we going to do to celebrate?” Josie asked.

  “What if we go on a picnic?” Maggie jumped up to get Josie her coffee. “There’s a meadow just down the path outside that puts Yosemite to shame this time of year. It’s not far, Beth. You can make it. We’ll all help. Ice cream in your coffee?”

  “Oh yes.” Josie held up two fingers. “Can I have two scoops?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve a feeling that this is going to be a two-scoops-of-ice-cream kind of day.” Maggie looked at the women in front of her. A week ago she hadn’t really known any of them, and now she felt as if she was in the bosom of a brand-new family. Her glance lingered on Nikka. Head down, she was still tapping on her phone, still monitoring the outside world. Her hair hung in front of her face, giving her the tousled look that made Maggie’s insides melt.

  Tomorrow, she’d put back on her silk blouse and A-line skirt to drive down the hill, become Beth’s knight in shining corporate armor, and possibly never come back.

  She would if she wanted to. It was up to Nikka now.

  “Excuse me.” She gave Nikka one last look and headed out to the front porch. The sun hit it straight on in the morning, and the cell reception had always been better there.

  Lauren answered on the fourth ring. Maggie could see her with her finger poised over both red and green buttons, jerking back and forth.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Lauren. I’m glad you picked up.”

  “I almost didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. Look.” Her words came out fast. “I called to say I’m sorry for stealing your keys and for everything else over the last few days. I could tell you I did it for Beth. And I did. And I’m not sorry for that. But…”

  Lauren said nothing; her breathing filtered through the line, though. She was still there.

  “Okay. I did it for myself too. I know I do that a lot. I’m sure it was part of the problem between us, and for that I am sorry.”

  “You know you caused me a shitload of trouble. When they found out you were my employee… Well, let’s just say a whole truckload of Lemon Lovers isn’t going to fix this.”

  Maggie took a deep breath. Here was another woman who would have to find her own way back to her side.

  “I get that. I didn’t call for forgiveness…although that would be nice.” She chuckled. Lauren didn’t. “I called to tell you that I get why you were so pissed at the station with George and everything else. And I’m going to try to make it up to you whether you’re offering forgiveness or not.”

  The silence stretched out over the phone line. “Maggie, I can’t have you back at the bakery.”

  “I know,” she said. “Just tell me you’ll keep an open mind and let me try to show you that I value our friendship and not just what you can do for me.”

  Lauren sighed deeply. “Okay. But I’m no longer going to be a pushover where you’re concerned.”

  “I know that too.”

  They hung up, and the tightness in Maggie’s chest loosened. She almost called her brother. This was the adult she wanted to be.

  Beth chuckled. The meadow was everything that Maggie had promised and more. Open and sunny, the picturesque grassland sat below rugged mountain peaks still dotted with snow in the distance. Purple, yellow, and red wildflowers carpeted the far side in a smorgasbord of color. Josie squealed as she rounded the corner. Her ever-present backpack flapping at her side, she scooted right to a patch of graceful red blossoms at the base of a pine tree. She had her sketchbook out even before she hit the ground.

  Beth stopped as the path ran into the grassy field and rolled and stretched her ankle. It hurt. Nothing she couldn’t handle, though. They had taken the walk slow and steady, and the brace that Maggie had talked her into wearing had helped.

  “It’s infused with copper.” She had dangled the black ankle brace in front of her before they had left.

  Beth had taken it to be nice and because she didn’t want to kill the ready smile that always seemed to be on Maggie’s lips, but after walking with it for five minutes, she was ready to buy stock in the company. Or maybe her ankle had never really been that bad to begin with…

  “Here, let me help you.” Nikka slid a hand under her arm and helped her off the path. Maggie was already spreading a quilt in the shade of a large tree, and soon more food than they could possibly eat covered its patchworks.

  After lunch, the afternoon became lazy. The day was just warm enough to be comfortable; puffy clouds dotted the sky, and hummingbirds darted in and out of the wildflowers at the edge of the meadow. Resting on her elbows, Beth closed her eyes and took stock of her own body. The craving for comfort was still there, but it was muted and buried. The war might never be over, but this particular battle, she believed…she hoped, was won.

  Buoyed by relief, she opened her eyes to find Josie a few feet away sketching intently, colored pencils littered all around. Her green eyes studied something far off in the distance, and blonde curls bobbed as she bent her head back to the page on her lap. Beth waited for the sharp stab of pain that always accompanied a glance at Josie. Nothing. It didn’t come. Beth finally only saw Josie—not some strange version of Dawn with reshuffled features. For the first time, she considered the girl in front of her.

  Lovely, for sure, but her looks weren’t her best quality. She radiated a confidence in herself, and that was far better than beauty. Dawn would have been very proud of this poised, courageous young woman at the edge of the blanket. Actually, now that she was thinking about it more clearly, Dawn might have been a little envious of her as well. No matter. Beth was proud enough for the both of them.

  “Beth, why didn’t you ever write a sequel to Heartwood?” Nikka’s question cut into her thoughts. Her smile must have turned into a frown, for Nikka quickly added, “Sorry, am I prying?”

  “No. No. Their story was over. Bonnie and Daisy had nothing more to say.”

  Nikka nodded, generously accepting the answer that Beth had given for decades.

  “The truth, though,” she surprised herself by adding, “is a little more complicated.”

  The air around them stilled. Nikka leaned in; Maggie stopped repacking the picnic basket, and even Josie flipped closed her sketchbook to give Beth her full attention.

  Was she ready for this?

  “Before Kerry and Collier, Heartwood was published by Titanium Pages as a pulp lesbian novel. You should have seen that cover. A woman—I guess it was Bonnie—takes a chainsaw to a freshly fallen tree. She’s busting out of her flimsy blouse as she leans over. As if anyone would work in that kind of shirt. Daisy stands on the other side of the tree, looking at her with such longing, it’s as if she invented the feeling. God, I hated the cover when I first saw it, but I was really in no position or mood to argue. And I guess Titanium knew what they were doing. It did well as pulp. Just enough moments to fuel straight men’s fantasies, I guess.”

  Beth ran a hand through her cropped hair. “But then something amazing happened. Somehow it reached small towns, and lesbians, isolated from themselves, each other, and the world, believed that here was a book that told their story. Maybe they didn’t live in California or work in a sawmill, but I guess they identified with Bonnie. Coming of age all rolled up in coming out. I was, at the same time, cranking out volume after volume of Don’t Waste Your Wishes because it paid the bills and numbed my mind, since writing anything real had become unthinkable. For a long time, Kerry and Collier tried to hide the fact that the same woman who had written about wishes and mythical creatures for kids had also written about the forbidden love between women. So any time the idea of a sequel came up, they cut it
off at the knees. It’s been so long. Honestly, I can’t believe anyone is still asking.”

  “Oh my God, Beth,” Nikka said. “Your book made all the difference for me. I had a hard time accepting who I was until I read that book. Bonnie spoke for me when I couldn’t.” She looked at Maggie and blushed.

  “I love it more every time I read it,” Maggie said. “Daisy’s so full of life.”

  “And I want to finish it. I mean, that’s saying a lot for me.”

  They all laughed at Josie, who went cross-eyed in a mock scowl.

  “You know, there were times I thought about a sequel. Scenes or moments would pop in my head. Then I told myself that I was done with real writing. But the truth, and I know that I’ve denied this for years, is that everyone’s right. Bonnie is me and Daisy is Dawn, and to go back and tell a story that could only exist in fiction is just too hurtful.”

  “You never found anyone else?” Maggie asked.

  “No.”

  Beth rubbed her eyes under her glasses. A hummingbird whizzed past her. They all turned to look at it. No one was going to bite.

  Except Josie. “My grandmother hoped you would,” she said softly.

  “Would what?” Beth wanted to know and didn’t all at the same time.

  “Write more. She wanted a whole slew of Heartwood books. She even had an idea about Bonnie and Daisy living out their golden years in some exotic locale.”

  “Is that in the diary, too?” Beth’s voice grew shaky.

  “It is.” Josie grabbed her backpack, pulled out the tattered composition book, and held it out to Beth for the second time. “Why don’t you take a look?”

  Beth froze and studied the blank cover. A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind—so many she was having a hard time sorting them all out.

  The girl was right. She was going to read it sooner or later; everyone here knew that, including herself, and whatever was in it, good or bad, wasn’t going to change. Fear could only hold her back for so long.

  Beth swallowed hard and reached out a hand for the book. It was lighter than she remembered. It took her a minute, but eventually she cracked open the cover. The first page was yellowed, and the ink faded into its seams. In her memory, she could so clearly see Dawn sitting at the kitchen table filling her black-and-gold fountain pen, a gift from the studio, with ink every other week. When she had asked why, Dawn had shrugged and had mumbled something about autographs.