“But what about in town?” Danny’s smile faded. “I mean, Fredburg is a college town, but this whole state is so damn backward. Are you guys worried about getting hassled?”
“Well, neither of us are big on public displays of affection, and we’ll be careful,” Abby said. “And the city does have a nice Gay Pride celebration, in August. We can find cozy pockets in this town to nestle into, if we wish.”
“Leeches and Gay Pride.” Mac raised her eyebrow at Abby. “You do know Fredburg, Abigail. Now, when did you add gay community celebrations to your trove of local knowledge?”
“Recently,” Abby admitted. “I made a point of researching them.”
“Sometimes I have dreams about Cleo getting beat up.” Danny was gazing out the window, tracing a circle on the glass. “She’s so…intense about everything. If some hick homophobe got in her face, she wouldn’t back down.”
Mac remembered the murky light in Cleo’s eyes the night she held a gun on Sam Sherrill. From the look on Abby’s face, that same unnerving memory was passing through her mind. “It’s hard, Danny, knowing someone might hurt the people we love. All we can do is trust Cleo to take care of herself, and remind her how important it is to all of us that she does.”
“I can’t even get her to stop smoking,” Danny grumbled. Then she brightened a little. “I can tell she’s happy about the two of you being together, though, even if she wouldn’t talk to me about it. Cleo really loves you guys. I think you and Vivian and Scratch are her best friends.”
“We’re pretty partial to her too,” Mac said.
“Cleo’s always looked out for me. As well as she could, anyway. Even when my dad tried to make it impossible. When I was a kid, I was always planning to run away and live with her, if he got on my case too much.” Danny shrugged. “I guess I finally did, huh?”
Mac considered this. “Seems to me that when you thought about running to Cleo as a kid, Dan, that was a kid wanting to run to a grown-up. The night you left your dad’s house, you made an adult’s decision. You like Cleo watching out for you because you love her. But you’re taking the reins of your own life now.”
“That’s true, Danny,” Abby said. “You’re graduating from high school. Starting college.”
“Only if I pass calculus.” Danny’s head dropped to the back of the bench, and Mac knew she was ready for less weighty topics.
She clicked the turn signal. “Hey, Danny. Want to see the farm where a little white boy murdered an innocent cherry tree?”
Chapter Sixteen
Abby drifted awake, draped across the firm cushion of Mac’s body. The pleasure of these morning awakenings still felt new to her, even slightly miraculous, after two months of intimate nights. She brushed her hair off her forehead so she could see the face of her sleeping lover. Abby smiled, savoring the word, and trailed the tip of her finger lightly over Mac’s full lower lip.
Mac listened, she thought, even from the reaches of dreams. During the night rounds of her hospital training, Abby had become well acquainted with the expressions of sleeping women. Most were slack and vacant, befitting restful slumber. Others were tense with some unrelenting pain or worry. Mac’s face reflected neither. She looked relaxed but intent, as if even asleep she listened to the stories of others, a respectful holder of their histories.
Abby brushed her cheek against Mac’s knuckles. Her good hands. She remembered their thorough exploration of her body the night before, rough and tender in turn, with a sensual clarity that made her melt inside. No lover had ever shown such creative and tireless attention to her pleasure.
She wondered, now, how she could have believed she was incapable of passion. This wise, funny woman had tapped into depths of sexuality Abby hadn’t known she possessed. Mac drew ecstasy from her effortlessly, even playfully, but with a loving insistence she couldn’t begin to resist. And as for Abby, she had always been a quick study. She was learning to stir Mac’s desire in return, with an avid dedication she’d certainly never brought to organic chemistry.
Mac stirred beneath her. “Morning.”
“Hello there.”
And if Abby had her way, that would be the full tally of the day, their exchange of morning greetings. As far as she was concerned, the sun could sink below the horizon again now, and she would happily spend the next eight moonlit hours nestled in Mac’s arms.
“You sleep well?” Mac yawned through most of her question, her hair a shaggy wildness on the pillow.
“I did. You, however, twitched and mumbled through the night, off and on. It was quite alluring.”
Mac chuckled and rubbed her face. “I’ll bet it was.”
“And who is Ashley, if I might ask?”
“Who?”
“Ashley. You said that name a couple of times, among the mumbling and the twitching.”
“I did?”
“You did. I heard you distinctly.” Abby drummed her fingers teasingly on the blanket covering Mac’s waist. “Should I worry about your bringing another woman into our bed?”
“Ashley.” Mac looked puzzled as she tried to stifle a second yawn. “I never dated any Ashleys. I don’t even remember being friends with an Ashley.”
“Was this Ashley, who you don’t remember, very attractive?”
“Wait—except for my little girl Ashley, when I was a kid.”
“Your little girl? Oh! Your little imaginary amiga, I think you called her. The one your parents left behind at the gas station, and you made them go back to get her?”
“Good memory,” Mac murmured. She was staring out the window.
“Well, if that’s the Ashley you’re dreaming about, go back and pick her up already, please.” Abby smoothed her finger across the shadows beneath Mac’s eyes. “It’s nice that she followed you all the way out here, but I’m starting to worry a bit about these restless nights.”
The alarm clock on Mac’s bedside table went off, and Abby reached across her to tap its button. She’d just as soon Mac slept in another few hours, and she’d be delighted to join her. Regretfully, however, there were children to vaccinate and groceries to fetch, so she kissed Mac’s shoulder and swept the bedcovers aside.
Abby was instantly cold, from the loss both of blankets and her sexy bed warmer. “If we don’t hurry, Cleo will make the coffee. I dibs the last slice of that banana cake.” She lifted her robe from the post of the bed and slid it on. “Mac?”
Mac was still in bed, still staring out the small window. She blinked. “Banana cake.” She looked at Abby and nodded. “Sure, Doc, all yours.”
“I just need to grab some shoes from my room.” Abby tied the sash on her robe and went to the door. She passed Mac’s desk, and her eye fell on the two thick envelopes stacked neatly on its surface.
Behind her, Abby heard Mac get up and pull open a dresser drawer. She rested a finger on the cream-colored envelopes, then picked them up and read the return addresses again.
“Something wrong, babe?”
Abby turned to her, the letters in her hand.“I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Mac paused, then finished threading her belt through the loops of her jeans. “Ah, yeah. Those just came in the other day.”
Abby nodded, fingering the envelopes. The addresses were from shelter programs in Maryland and Pennsylvania. “I’d think they would accept job applications online, these days.”
“I’m not applying for other jobs, Ab.” Mac slipped on her worn rugby shirt and fumbled with its buttons. “I just requested general info from a few programs.”
“But why?” Abby asked softly. “We have an extensive regional shelter database on disk downstairs.”
Mac started to speak, then shook her head and tried again. “Abby, I wrote to those programs months ago. A lot has happened since then.”
“You’ve been here less than four months, Mac.” Abby hoped she didn’t sound accusing. She was trying not to sound frightened. “I’m trying to understand why you’re already scouting out other—
”
“Because it’s a reflex. I do it everywhere I go.” Mac closed her dresser drawer with some force. “Once I settle into a job, I start looking at future prospects. Even when I plan on staying put a year or two, I want to have an exit strategy ready.” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“I see.” Abby lay the envelopes back on the desk, and sat again on the bed.
“Vivian’s worried I might bolt too. She brought it up at my review.” Mac still wasn’t looking at Abby. “You’d think she’d know better. I’d never put in less than a year in a job, that wouldn’t be fair to…anyone.”
“A year,” Abby repeated.
“I’ll stay here three years, then. Five.” Mac raked her fingers through her hair. “How many decades should I promise, Abby? How far into the future do you expect me to see?”
“That’s a fair question, Mac, but I have one too.” Abby was surprised by a mild flare of anger. “How long am I expected to wait while you think things over?”
“Abby.” Mac closed her eyes. “I’ve always planned to stay at Fireside at least two years. That means two years for us—you and me—to grow together, to see what we can make of this thing. Why isn’t that enough, for now? Why is it important that I make a decision about the rest of my life today, this week?”
“But isn’t that the decision I faced?” Abby flattened her hand on the bedspread. “Do you really not understand that, Mac? When I told you I can only make love if I’m in a committed relationship, what did you hear?”
“I didn’t hear that I’d be proposing marriage if we made love.”
That stung, and Abby slid her hand back.
“Abby.” Mac sat on the corner of the bed. “I told you I agreed with you. I didn’t want casual sex either. I wanted to be sure we had something meaningful too—”
“Yes. And the night Sam Sherrill broke into this house, I decided something meaningful could exist between you and me.” Abby needed some distance, and she slid off the bed and stood by the desk. “Did you think that was easy for me, Mac? I’ve never really opened my heart to anyone, even as a girl. So, I need you to understand this.”
Abby drew a slow breath. “I’ve reached a time in my life when I’m ready to make a home. I’ve found one here, at Fireside. I plan to stay here a very long time. I’m hardly a girl anymore, Mac. I’m a mature woman, and I’m ready for a mature love. If you find you’re not going to be a lasting presence in my life, I have to know that.”
Mac stared at her mutely.
“Hey. Taco Belle.” Cleo’s voice sounded from the hallway as she rapped on Mac’s bedroom door. “Come grab a Pop-Tart if you’re shopping with me. Jeep leaves in ten.” Her heavy step faded down the hall.
“I want you,” Abby said quietly. “I want us, Mac. You need to decide what you want.” She turned and opened the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
*
When Abby stepped out onto the front porch, she saw Danny kicking the tire of Cleo’s Jeep with a sullen look, her hands crammed into her back pockets. She was grateful for the distraction. That unexpected clash with Mac had left her faintly nauseated.
“Good morning, Danny. Are you joining this shopping run after all?” Abby gave Danny’s tousled hair a friendly ruffle. “I thought Cleo mandated more study time for your exam tomorrow.”
“She mandated. I can’t go,” Danny grumbled. “Cleo’s a bigger butt than my dad when it comes to homework.”
“Well, Cleo won’t let me go, either. I’ll give you a hand with those formulas later, if you want.”
“Thanks.” Danny smiled at Abby, and her petulance seemed to ease a little. “Hey. I meant to ask you. Are you and Mac going with us to that rally this weekend?”
“What rally is this?”
“On campus. Just a little one.” Danny shrugged. “Cleo and I went to UMW the other day, to check out their art department? And we saw a flyer for this rally supporting gay marriage. This state is so fucking—sorry—so fucking backward, when it comes to gay marriage. Cleo and I thought we might go.”
“That sounds like a good plan for the weekend. I’ll check with Mac, but I think we’d both like to come.”
“Great.” Danny squinted up at her. “Do you see that happening between you and Mac someday, Abby? If that’s not too personal. Do you think you guys will get married? I mean, if the neanderthals who run Virginia ever get a life and allow it?”
“Well.” Abby rocked gently on her toes, her smile still in place. “It’s rather early in the game to be thinking of that. Mac and I haven’t even settled our debate over coffee versus tea. But I know Mac believes strongly that women should have a legal right to marry, and so do I. If we’re lucky enough to stay together, and Virginia comes to its senses, we would probably consider it.”
Not really the ringing endorsement Abby would have preferred to make, but Mac had emerged from the house and was joining them, that lazy saunter as distinctive as the sea green of her eyes. When she reached Abby, Mac lifted her hand and held it in her own. She searched Abby’s face, her features tired and shadowed with worry, and the constriction in Abby’s throat eased a little. She pressed Mac’s fingers. They still had much to resolve. But the day was young. Spring had arrived. They would have time. Mac must have felt Abby’s softening, and her shoulders straightened.
“Morning, Dan,” Mac said.
“Danny has invited us to join her and Cleo at a gay marriage rally this weekend.” Abby hoped to steer Danny back to the larger issue.
“Yeah, Sunday,” Danny said. “Two o’clock. In the eastern quad, whatever the heck that is.”
“I believe we’re free Sunday.” Mac smiled at Danny. “Sounds like you’re looking forward to this.”
“Kind of, yeah.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not real political. But I do want to go. It feels like a nice thing to do for my mom, and Cleo.”
“We need all the straight allies we can get, Danny.” Mac took Danny’s chin gently in her fingers. “And it’s a very nice thing to do, for your mom and Cleo. Abby and I are there. Thanks for asking us.”
Danny looked up at Mac, and Abby saw her fall a little in love with her tall counselor. How could she not? The girl might be straight, but she had a pulse. Mac slid her arm around Abby’s waist, and Abby felt the last tension between them slip away.
Cleo came out of the house, rummaging in her canvas bag. She saw them and groaned. “Oh, please. You three look like some lesbian Norman Rockwell calendar, April or some such shit, break it up. Danielle, I believe there’s some calculus in there calling your name.”
“Yes, Cleopatra, your highness,” Danny lisped, too softly for Cleo to hear, and Abby hid her smile. “Just don’t come crying home to me when Mac throws her back out lifting those big cases of tuna without me.”
Danny waved at them listlessly and meandered toward the house, and Cleo ducked into her Jeep and keyed the ignition. Abby felt Mac’s lips brush her hair.
“You didn’t let me apologize,” Mac murmured. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“No apologies necessary, Counselor. I’m not offering any. I meant every word I said.”
“I know you did. You’ve given me a lot to think about, querida.”
“Yes. But right now, I believe those big cases of tuna are calling your name.”
“That tuna’s real popular around here.” Mac smiled. “I ought to rustle up eight or ten cases. Might need some serious lumbar therapy, when I get back.”
“We’ll hang you by your heels from the staircase for a few hours,” Abby promised. “Perhaps a nice ice bath afterward, to address any swelling.”
“Dr. Glenn, where’s your dang romantic spirit?”
“I’ll read you love poetry while you dangle. Sappho, if you wish.”
Mac snickered, then tipped Abby’s chin with one finger and kissed her again—chastely, compared to recent private, torrid offerings, but quite pleasantly nonetheless. Muted retching sounds could be heard over the rumbling of the Jeep, an
d they both smiled at Cleo’s obvious impatience to get on the road.
“So we’re okay, babe?” Mac whispered.
“We’re okay. Hurry home.” Abby slapped Mac’s butt. “I miss you already.”
“Me you back.” Mac winked at her and ambled to the Jeep’s passenger door.
Abby waved as Cleo accelerated around the circular drive and down the narrow road that led toward town. The turquoise ring on Mac’s finger flashed in the late afternoon sunlight when she lifted her hand, and then they were gone.
Abby folded her arms, glad that she had Danny for company inside. She started to turn back to the house, then hesitated, not yet ready to relinquish the space, the column of air, where Mac had last held her.
She didn’t understand it herself, this urgency to see Mac claim a lasting role in Fireside’s story, and in her heart. Abby only knew that when she and Mac held each other, they both knew to their souls they were cherished. Beneath all the first blush of love, there was a certainty growing between them, a sure recognition that they had something worth fighting for here.
And that didn’t mean getting through the dramatic highs and lows of a passionate beginning. Mac was her first true lover, but Abby had lived long enough and had learned enough about human nature to understand that. The true fight would come two years on, and ten and twenty years after that, the plain hard daily work two people faced if they wanted to build a life together. She could only hope Mac could find the courage for that journey.
Abby shivered and pulled the collar of her sweater closer around her throat. Perhaps some intensive lumbar therapy later tonight would help strengthen her lover’s spine. She smiled at the prospect and turned to the house, trying to remember the basics of high school calculus so she could coach Danny for her test.
*
Mac rested her elbow on the open window and brushed her thumb across her lips, savoring that last kiss. The warmth in Abby’s eyes made it possible to still the last echoes of their talk. And the task was made easier by the driving rhythms blasting from the Jeep’s speakers.
Fireside Page 16