Forging a Desire Line

by Mary P. Burns

  Joanna ran her thumb over the white and rose braids of the Gordian knot. “The golds are beautiful, Charley, and so perfectly woven. You think this is us, don’t you?”

  Charley’s answer was to lean in and kiss her. Joanna didn’t pull away, not at first. When she did, she picked up the champagne bottle and refilled their glasses, not meeting her eyes as she dropped more berries into both glasses.

  “You’re making this hard,” Joanna finally said. “There’s still so much I need to work out. And that you’ll need to process.”

  “I know that.” Charley drained her glass, tucking one berry piece into her cheek. “So let me make it as simple as I can.” She reached for Joanna and gave her the kind of kiss that would’ve buckled her knees had they been standing, Charley’s tongue still cold from the champagne, the strawberry on it finding its way into Joanna’s mouth. She felt the sigh, Joanna’s hand tangling in her hair, then letting go and pushing her away. “Think of this as a promise,” Charley said, running her fingers over the bracelet.

  “And that kiss?”

  “A promissory note. You can hold on to it while you work things out. And if you decide you don’t want it…” Charley looked down at her hands. “Just…give it back to me.”

  Joanna sighed, sat back, and took Charley’s hand. “Can we put on something other than Christmas carols now?”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  It had snowed heavily on New Year’s Eve. Charley wondered if she and Joanna would be able to get out of the city, but when she looked out her window, it was evident that the plows had managed to get through. Brownish muck that twelve hours before had been a pristine white blanket on all the roads was now mounded up and down the avenues.

  Within two hours, they were driving through countryside frosted in white and dusted with drifts, the occasional barn still bearing a Christmas wreath over its double doors. Charley’s gaze was pulled to Joanna’s hands on the wheel of the car. She loved contemplating those hands that looked so delicate but were so strong. The nails were polished an opaque white that had bits of glitter in it, mimicking the sunlight glinting off the snow. She still allowed herself to think of how those hands might feel as they learned her body and wondered how Joanna would respond to her touch. She sighed and found a country radio station to listen to as they talked.

  They stopped for lunch in an adorable little town that had an antique shop Joanna wanted to explore, and then Charley spotted the local hardware store and dragged Joanna into it, much to her amusement.

  “I don’t think I knew this side of you existed,” Joanna said as they got back on the road.

  “My dad’s influence. He taught us all how to fix things, so we spent a lot of time in hardware stores when I was a kid. I still love the feel of the old ones, lumber sawdust and tools, the smell of leather and oils. There’s magic in those little Norman Rockwell places.”

  “We had such different childhoods,” Joanna said.

  “Tell me more about yours. I really only know what you talked about at dinner that night with Emily and Terry.”

  Joanna glanced at her. “I could give you the list of all the countries we lived in, all the bases here in the States. But you want the full scope, don’t you?”

  “I want to hear about everything and imagine little Joanna in Germany or Texas or…”

  “The Philippines. I was born on the Subic Bay naval base there.”

  “Oh.” Charley settled in for the story of Joanna’s life. A while later, looking out the window, she said, “Do you realize that we’ve been living in the same city just nine blocks from each other for twenty years? And that we lived in the same city in England thirty years ago while your dad got his master’s and I did my junior year abroad? What are the chances?”

  “I wonder how many times we passed each other on the streets and never knew it?”

  Joanna put her blinker on as they approached a bend in the road that looked as Godforsaken as the last twenty miles. Charley saw nothing that indicated humanity until she spotted smoke from a chimney curling up through the trees.

  The cabin appeared small, and she wondered how eight women would manage there all weekend without blood being spilled, no matter how well they all knew each other. There were two cars parked at an angle by the side of the garage in a patch that had been shoveled out to accommodate one more. As Joanna maneuvered into the slot left for her, Charley saw a large addition on the back of the house and relaxed a little. Until she realized she was about to meet the most important women in Joanna’s life.

  Turning off the engine, Joanna interrupted Charley’s momentary panic attack. “I promise you it’ll be a good weekend.”

  “You figured out that I’m nervous…”

  Joanna popped the trunk. “Don’t be.”

  Charley grabbed her suitcase and Joanna’s quilted overnight bag.

  The front door of the house opened, and a tall, elegant woman walked out to greet them.

  “You made good time, Jo! Let me take that,” she said to Charley, reaching for Joanna’s bag. “I’m Madeline, by the way, and welcome to Six Pines.”

  Charley had seen the marker at the bottom of the driveway. Looking quickly around the property that seemed to sit in the middle of a forest, she realized that there were six enormous Douglas firs anchoring the sloping grounds by the street.

  Joanna snorted. “Six Pines! I remember planting those things when they were the size of Charlie Brown’s pitiful Christmas tree.”

  Madeline laughed. “That was the longest day. And you spent all of it complaining.”

  “That’s because you kept moving the damn things!” Joanna turned to Charley. “I dug at least twelve holes before she was satisfied with where they were going to sit.”

  “You put those in?” Charley asked, surprised.

  “This girl gets things done. I’m afraid if it wasn’t for her, those trees would still be sitting in their burlap sacks in my side yard,” Madeline said. “Come on in and meet the others. Of course, we started the cocktail hour without you.”

  “It’s three o’clock, you lush.” Joanna gave Madeline’s shoulder a gentle push.

  “Hey, it’ll be dark soon, close enough for me.” Madeline held the door open and Charley walked in, met immediately by the sound and smell of a crackling fire across the great main room, three women rising to greet them. Two other women were at work in the open kitchen. Several aromas emanating from that direction teased her nose and set her mouth to watering. Charley stowed her suitcase by the front door.

  “Are you baking a cherry pie?” she asked.

  “Joanna said it was your favorite.” An olive-skinned woman with a weathered face and jet-black hair caught up in a ponytail came out from behind the marble counters that set the kitchen apart from the rest of the room. “The standing rib roast goes in when the pie comes out. I understand you have an unusual recipe for Yorkshire pudding.” She held out her hand and Charley took it, her skin as warm as the welcome in the woman’s eyes. “I’m Thea, Madeline’s wife. We’re so glad you came.”

  Standing behind her was a handsome female version of Tom Cruise. Charley knew from Joanna’s description that this was Hayden Pierce. Her impish smile caught Charley off-guard. “Nice to meet you. What can I get you to drink?” She had already poured a glass of red wine and handed it to Joanna, who’d walked in right behind Charley.

  “Jo, I’m taking your bags and Charley’s up to the loft,” Madeline called from the front door.

  Charley looked at Joanna. They’d be sharing a room? Joanna discreetly shook her head, but Charley wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “What’s the array of scotch here? Charley’s a scotch drinker,” Joanna said.

  One of the women in the living room walked over to a glass-fronted cabinet in a bookcase-lined wall and opened it. “Come on over, pick your poison. Madeline stocks everything. Are you a single malt woman?”

  “I do like a good one, yes.”

  “I’m Meg Houlihan,” she said, sh
aking Charley’s hand. Charley liked her eyes, a deep brown dusted with gold that seemed to reflect the fire that highlighted the reds in her hair. Her smile revealed fine crinkles. “This is Dana Evans.” Meg turned to a tall lean woman with curly black hair and dark caramel skin tones. “And this is Shelley Roberts.” Charley shook Shelley’s hand, taking in her thin frame and the gray stubble on her head.

  “Ovarian cancer. Finished chemo a little while ago, hair’s finally deciding to make a comeback.” Shelley patted her head in response to Charley’s gaze.

  “Oh, right.” She wondered why Joanna hadn’t mentioned this to her.

  “Top-notch surgeon, they got it. I asked Jo not to say anything. No need to start a good party off on a weird note.”

  “Well, if they got it, I’d say that calls for a Johnnie Walker, if you’ve got it,” Charley said.

  Meg moved the bottles around, peering at each label. “We’ve got black, green, and gold.”

  “Green,” Joanna said, coming over with a tumbler of ice. “It’s supposed to be like ‘buttah,’ according to Charley.”

  “It is, and I’ll take another one, too,” Madeline said, returning to the room. She gave Joanna her glass, put her hand on Charley’s shoulder, and pointed to an open space above the fireplace. “I put you and Joanna in the loft this weekend. It’s the warmest. I wasn’t sure if you’re a heat-seeker or if you prefer the cold. Up there, you can sleep without the quilt and still be fine.”

  “Charley, did you bring the recipe for the Yorkshire pudding or do you know it by heart?” Thea asked.

  “I don’t use it often enough to know it that well. Let me go get it.”

  Charley stood in the doorway of the loft marveling at the simple luxury. Madeline, a cardiothoracic surgeon, could well afford the best, and that’s exactly what she was looking at. Every piece of furniture in the cozy room was Americana antique, but it was meant to be used: a highboy polished to a dark sheen, the old writing desk in front of a window that looked out on a large pond in the back yard, matching Quaker chairs that sat in front of the fireplace wall, their navy blue seat pillows accenting the braided navy blue rug. A large framed work of embroidery, a Colonial girl’s ABCs, hung above the bed, and though faded by time, it was still stunning. On the bed, a white wedding ring quilt sewn with patches of navy blues and browns echoed the motif, tying everything together. Charley fished the recipe out of the front pocket of her suitcase and headed back downstairs.

  Thea took the recipe card and they read it together. Joanna brought Charley’s scotch to her and joined them.

  “This is really quite simple, isn’t it?” Thea said. “And you don’t do it in muffin tins?”

  “No. It’s done in a baking dish. That’s the secret,” Charley replied. “Sift the flour and salt, beat the eggs, milk, and water together, mix that into the dry ingredients, and pour it right on top of the quarter cup of hot fat from the roast beef. Do not under any circumstance open that oven until the timer goes off or the pudding will fall. This isn’t anything like those muffins. It’s like rich and juicy French toast soufflé.”

  “Maybe you’d better do this with us,” Hayden said.

  “Happy to. Let me know about fifteen minutes before the roast is done,” Charley replied. Wandering over to the conversation by the fire, she listened to the debate about the effect Detroit’s bankruptcy might have on the future of New York’s various civil service pension funds. Shelley and Meg, both teachers, were worried about what the ramifications might eventually mean for them. Joanna signaled Charley to sit down next to her.

  “There’s an inflatable mattress and a sleeping bag in the loft closet. That’s why Madeline put us up there,” Joanna said quietly.

  “But it’s a king-size bed.”

  “We can argue that later.”

  “No. Neither one of us is sleeping on that floor. Period.” Charley hoped her face reflected her no-nonsense attitude.

  Dinner was a four-hour affair, the conversation and laughter revealing more about each woman than any description Joanna ever could’ve offered Charley. It was like being at Brooke’s, and Charley wondered at one point, looking around the table, if the rest of her friends would make Joanna feel as welcome and at home when they finally met her.

  “Oh my God.” Dana moaned as she inhaled the Yorkshire pudding. “Who needs dessert? Charley, this is magnificent. How did you come across this recipe?”

  “It was my great-grandmother’s. She had a farm in Pennsylvania. She served this to the farm hands before the roast beef dinner on Sundays so they wouldn’t eat as much meat.”

  “It’s a slice of heaven,” Meg said.

  Charley automatically got up to help with the cleanup when she saw Joanna take charge. They were done in no time. Back in front of the fireplace, one lamp and the firelight illuminated them, and the conversation took on a decidedly quieter tone. Charley sat on the fireplace ledge next to Joanna and listened to Madeline describing a recent groundbreaking surgery she’d performed on a Syrian child born with a defective heart who’d been brought to her attention by Doctors Without Borders. Joanna absently ran her fingertips up and down Charley’s shoulder blades, and she had to stifle the moan that nearly escaped. I might have to sleep on the damn floor after all.

  The grandfather clock in the hall chiming eleven seemed to signal the witching hour, and everyone made their way upstairs. Charley wanted to sit in front of the fire with her scotch a little bit longer to give Joanna enough time to get ready for bed. “I hope I’m not keeping you,” Charley said to Madeline. “I appreciate it if you’re in hostess mode, but you don’t have to stay down here on my account. I can tamp the fire and turn out the light.”

  “I am in hostess mode, yes, but I’m enjoying it. I like when the house is full. And I’ve had a good time getting to know you tonight. You’re very funny.” Madeline studied her. “Joanna needs someone like you in her life.”

  Charley started to reply, but Madeline waved it off.

  “I know what the party line is,” Madeline said gently. “Forgive me, here…Jo told me about what you’re going through with your ex, and I’m truly sorry. It all makes for an awfully hard balancing act.”

  Charley had figured from everything Joanna had told her about Madeline that she was her Brooke.

  “Of course, she asked me not to share it with the group.” Madeline looked into the fire. “I don’t mean to step where I don’t belong in this equation, but we can all see that there are obviously feelings between you two, and I’ve heard it in her voice in all our phone calls since she met you. Now that I’ve met you, I understand why.” Madeline shifted in her seat. “You know, I was skeptical of her taking on a patient like Tricia so soon after losing Irene. But I think the two of you have been very good for each other. I hope you can hang on to that.” Madeline appeared to be struggling with something, and then put it away. “There’s a sleeping bag and an air mattress in the closet in your room. She knows they’re there. I would never have played that kind of roulette with you.” Madeline went over to the fireplace to bank what was left of the flames.

  “Joanna told me.”

  Madeline put the poker back in the hod. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to her in a long time. And something tells me she’s the best thing that’s happened to you, too.”

  Charley couldn’t look at Madeline. She wasn’t sure what she’d see reflected in her eyes, or what Madeline would be able to read in hers. “She is. And you’re right, it’s difficult right now.”

  Madeline drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Try to get some sleep.”

  A few minutes later, Charley turned off the light and went upstairs. Joanna seemed to be asleep but had turned on the light on Charley’s side of the bed for her. She brushed her teeth and changed in the bathroom, turned off the light, and slid under the covers, leaving an appropriately wide chasm between them, one she felt keenly. As she was settling in, Joanna’s pillow inched closer to hers. For a second, Charley wasn’t sure what
to do, but she turned over, her pulse thudding, to see Joanna leaning up on her elbow.

  “I think tonight went well, don’t you?”

  Not sure where the moment might be going, Charley wanted to be careful. “I like your friends.”

  “And they like you. May I reserve this space for a while?” She tapped Charley’s shoulder.

  Charley hesitated. “There’s a slight fee.”

  “Is there?” In the dark, Joanna leaned down to kiss her. It was soft and sweet and Charley’s whole body reacted to it. She wanted to pull Joanna on top of her. “Will that cover it?”

  Charley hesitated. “You know what I want,” she whispered.

  Joanna ran her fingers through Charley’s hair. “You have no idea how much I want to give it to you. I don’t know what to do…”

  In the dark, Charley took Joanna’s hand and kissed her fingers, then pressed them to her breast. For a moment, neither of them moved. Charley inhaled Joanna’s scent and something she’d never picked up before, reminiscent of cotton candy, threaded throughout the faint lemon. Charley instinctively knew it was the essence of Joanna’s arousal, and the fire that her kiss had started deep within built; she wasn’t sure she could control it anymore, and she didn’t want to. Knowing what the handcuff necklace had meant and taking a chance, Charley moved astride Joanna and pinned her arms above her head, leaning down to kiss her. Joanna arched up into her, and Charley moved her mouth down one side of her neck, kissed and pulled at her nipples through the thin tank top she was wearing. Joanna moaned in response, and Charley worked her way back up the other side of her neck, kissing her again, softly, her tongue finding its way inside and to Joanna’s. She felt Joanna’s rib cage and breasts moving against her erratically; she was breathing hard. Charley set up a measured, languid pace, decelerating, kissing Joanna as if nothing else in the world existed but this moment, her mouth. Joanna pushed against her, whimpered, and it emboldened Charley. She sat up, pulled off her T-shirt, and Joanna reached for her breasts with both hands. Charley groaned at her touch and sought the hem of Joanna’s tank top, pulling the shirt off, and then took Joanna’s nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. Joanna inhaled audibly. She moved higher on Joanna’s hips and leaned down, her breasts right at Joanna’s mouth, and she was rewarded with the double sensation of Joanna sucking one into her mouth while her fingers teased the other. She attempted to move back down, but Joanna put both hands firmly on her waist.