Heather reached for the Bible Dani had angrily thumped down on the table and examined it closer. “Hey, this is handmade. With your name and Shannon’s stamped on it. It’s a wedding edition. Look, there’s a nice page in here to list all the wedding day details—the names of the wedding party, your birthdates, even a family tree. Jesus, I think she was serious about this gift.” Heather shook her head. “I’ll be damned. You could just about knock me down with a feather right now.”
“Let’s read the note,” Shannon suggested.
Haltingly, Dani took the slip of paper and read it out loud.
Dear Dani,
I know we’ve had our differences in the past—
“No kidding,” Dani interjected.
—and for that I’m sorry. I have always believed that marriage is between a man and a woman. We were raised to think that, but obviously you came to a different conclusion at some point in your life. I too can make my own conclusions, and while I don’t profess to know what the answer is on marriage, I know that God loves us all equally. God would not have created the institution of marriage if it was not meant for all of us to enjoy. Please accept this gift from me as a reminder that I will always love you and that I am trying hard to understand and accept.
Love,
Mary
“Holy shit,” Heather said. “I sure didn’t see this coming. Hell, maybe in another year she’ll be grand marshal of the gay pride parade or something!”
Shannon snapped, “It really was a nice thing for her to do, and I don’t think you guys should make fun of it.”
Dani sighed, leaned back in her chair. She refused to get her hopes up when it came to the rest of her family; they’d let her down so many times before. But what the hell. If Mary was suddenly turning into a real person, then good for her. She’d always been a smart girl, so perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising that she was warming to Dani’s homosexuality. And Shannon was right; they shouldn’t be making fun of her.
“Maybe I’ll actually get a Christmas card in the mail from her this year,” Heather mocked, refusing to give it up. “Unless her Christian generosity only extends to you.”
Dani slid the note and the Bible back into the torn package. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not exactly going to roll out the welcome mat to her, but hey, people can change I guess. And if she’s changed, then I’m happy for her.”
Shannon looked at her meaningfully. “People are meant to change. It’s when they refuse to change that they make a royal mess of their lives and their relationships.”
Dani could agree with that. She knew what was important, had come to accept that their lives had to change now. Financially the landscape had altered, plans of parenthood were gone too—at least for the time being. But they were together and life went on. She could either seize the changes and make the best of them, or get left behind and continually grieve for what was lost. “You’re right darling. Here’s to changing.”
They clinked coffee cups.
Nostalgically, Dani glanced around her surroundings, thought about all the visits she’d made to Vegas over the years, the money she’d spent at the casinos—money she’d taken for granted. Ah, well. She’d never really expected the fun would last forever—not with the Bible-thumping, God-will-strike-you-down kind of upbringing she’d had. God was a punishing God, she’d been made to believe, and so a part of her was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her ship to run aground.
As if reading her thoughts, Shannon squeezed her thigh in reassurance. “We’re going to be just fine, you know.”
“I know. It’s going to be different, that’s all.”
“Different is okay with me, as long as we’re together.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Claire (Chicago)
Claire gazed out the plane’s tiny window, wishing she could get off at the next nearest cloud. Someone had asked her once if she felt close to Ann when she was up in the air like this, in the fluffy clouds and sunshine. Closer to heaven. No, she had answered. She felt closest to Ann when she closed her eyes at night, right before sleep claimed her, and in mornings after she’d dreamed of Ann.
Amanda was sitting a few rows ahead of her. She couldn’t see her, and it was just as well. Amanda had given her an ultimatum this morning. She didn’t want a small part of Claire, and she certainly didn’t want a guilty or reticent Claire. No. If and when Claire was ready to jump with both feet, she could come to her, but it was ultimately Claire’s decision.
The internal struggling had instantly begun. Her mind wouldn’t stop churning with all the possibilities and angles, as though she were trying to solve a complex math problem. Amanda was a lovely woman. Warm, kind, intelligent, fun. Sexy as hell. She involuntarily squeezed her thighs together as she remembered the body she’d brought to orgasm many times with her mouth and hands last night and this morning, the feel of Amanda’s soft skin, the smell of her. Amanda giving her the most delicious, forceful orgasms she’d ever had. Oh, God! She was warm and wet all of a sudden, a hot flash of fresh desire. But panic was dry in her mouth. She’d never come that hard, that intensely with Ann before, not even in the early days of their relationship. Sex between them had always been loving and tender and fulfilling. But with Amanda it had been electric, all-consuming, thrilling beyond imagination. Every cell in her body, in her mind, had been engaged and set on fire. Amanda was the match to her wick. She wanted her with a hunger she’d not known before, and it scared the hell out of her. What if it was too much, too overwhelming? Was it possible to self-combust from too much pleasure? And what if Amanda woke up one day, decided she didn’t want to be with someone two decades older? Was Claire capable of being everything she needed? Was she being selfish giving in to this hunger, this need for Amanda? What of her loyalty to Ann, gone only three years? How could she not help but compare Amanda to Ann, and . . . Oh, Lord, how wrong that would be! It would not be a fair comparison at all. There was Shannon to consider too; she surely would not approve, and their friendship would suffer.
She closed her eyes, wanting to wipe the slate of her mind clean, even if just for a day or two. It was all too much to think about. She couldn’t wait to get back to the world of delivery rooms, menopause, ovarian cysts, STDs, pregnancies, her dog, her house, her books. The world she’d made for herself the last few years. There was comfort in routine, and yes, comfort in pulling the blankets over her head and disappearing.
It was still dark the next morning when she went to work. The hospital never slept, but her office was dark and empty—just the way she wanted it this morning. She’d go over the reports and charts of everything she’d missed over the past week, check all her messages, though she knew Maria would have alerted her if anything serious had come up. Her reading glasses perched on her nose and a cup of coffee steaming away on her desk, she flipped on her computer and got started. Like magic, the immersion in work erased thoughts of Amanda and the week in Vegas.
Maria rushed in shortly before eight, squealing excitedly as she gave Claire a welcome back hug. “I’ve been dying to hear how your week went, and if you make me wait another minute, I might have to have a hissy fit.”
Claire smiled. “Give me a break. You’ve never had a hissy fit in your life.”
“Well,” she answered sheepishly. “Maybe once or twice. You look great by the way! Tanned, fit, relaxed. Vegas sure seems to have agreed with you.”
Claire tried to stop from visibly wincing but failed.
Maria’s unspoken questions shot at her like daggers. “Oh, I get it. You’re going to use the old what-happens-in-Vegas-stays-in-Vegas routine to keep from telling me about your week. That is not fair! Come on!”
Claire hated that stupid phrase about Vegas. It didn’t apply to her at all. Or did it? Was Amanda some kind of sexual escapade she was supposed to chalk up to losing her head in Vegas? A sexual detour, like the nice woman at the conference last year? She felt warmth rushing to her cheeks, and with it, guilt.
&n
bsp; Maria flopped down into one of the cozy office chairs, draping her legs over the arm. “I know. You had some wild affair out there that you don’t want to fess up to!”
“Please.” She knew her face wasn’t lying, knew it for a fact when Maria’s smart-ass grin dissolved.
“Oh, shit. What happened?”
Claire felt close to tears suddenly. Confessing the events of the week had been the last thing on her mind this morning. In fact, she’d unequivocally decided that she would not tell Maria a single thing about Amanda. It was no one’s business, and no one else would understand anyway. Except emotions now thundered through her chest and pounded wildly in her ears, and Maria was studying her with a mix of apprehension and empathy.
She tried to lie. “It was fine. Fun. The wedding was great. You know, everything you’d expect of a Vegas wedding.”
“Oh, no. Wait a minute. I know there’s more to it than that. Something’s upset you. Or scared the crap out of you. What are you not telling me?”
Claire weakly waved her hand in dismissal because she couldn’t find her voice.
“I’ve worked with you for six years, Claire. I know you better than anyone else, except maybe Shannon. Something happened last week, and you can’t just blow me off. I’m worried about you. I want to help.”
You can’t help me, she ached to say. No one could help her; only she could solve her problems. When it came down to it, people made their own decisions, failed or succeeded, went about their lives, lived with the consequences. The responsibility of her dilemma was hers alone.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Maria leaned closer in the chair, her posture erect and poised for confrontation. “That I won’t understand. That you’re perfectly fine being the lone wolf you are. That you can deal with whatever happened by yourself, the way you deal with everything. Alone.”
Claire spun around. “What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with trying to solve your own problems? Jesus, people are always looking for someone else to solve their problems. Well, it’s my life, and I know you don’t approve of how I live it, but that’s too damned bad.”
“Whoa! Who said anything about approval or disapproval?”
“You think I should be dating, out having fun instead of moping around, pining for Ann. It’s what you all think. That I stopped living my life the day Ann died.”
Maria looked horrified. “Claire, your friends want you to be happy, that’s all. We worry that, you know, that a part of you has given up on life.”
“Why, because I’m not out trying to get laid every weekend?”
“Of course not. You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Will you tell me why you’re so sensitive suddenly about dating and getting laid, as you put it? Did you meet someone?”
She wished Maria would stop nagging her. Well-meaning or not, she was tired of people telling her she should be with someone, that she needed to get on with her life, like there was some simple recipe or how-to manual she should be following, and that dating would make her feel better. “We have our first patient in thirty minutes.”
“You’re evading.”
“So what if I am. Isn’t there something you should be doing?”
“Yes there is, and it’s getting to the bottom of whatever is going on here.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the mood for this.”
They’d worked together so long they were like an old married couple, which meant Maria was not to be derailed. “You met someone there, I know it. And you’re confused and upset.”
“Now why would you think I met someone?”
“Because it’s the only thing that would put you in this state. Something . . . no, someone, has sent you completely off the rails. And now you’re feeling guilty and upset.”
“Guilty? Hell, I’m single. Free as a bird. I can do anything I want, see anyone I want. You’ve told me that yourself a hundred times.”
“That’s true in theory. Except you’re not like that. Nothing is that simple with you. You’ll torment yourself over this, act like it’s some medical condition you have to research the hell out of first before you commit to a treatment.”
“Jesus, you make me sound like a pompous ass. Or a coward, maybe.”
“Hardly.” Maria reached across the space where Claire leaned against her desk and touched her arm. “You’re warm, kind, the smartest woman I’ve ever met. But you’re cautious. Overly cautious. And sometimes you overthink things.”
She didn’t want to prolong this argument, didn’t want to debate the quirks of her personality. “Look, I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it, but—”
“Will you tell me about her?”
Claire sucked in her breath. The pain in her stomach was sharp. Biting. She reached into the pocket of her lab coat for the small bottle of antacids, popped a couple in her mouth. Would it be so bad to talk to someone about Amanda? To unburden this guilt and apprehension a little? There was no one else, not really. She certainly couldn’t talk to Shannon about this.
She pulled the matching chair closer to Maria’s. Slowly, calmly, and in halting sentences, she unloaded on her. She left out Amanda’s name and the fact that she was Shannon’s niece, but she recited their age difference, their immediate and deep connection, their mutual attraction, and finally, confessed that they’d slept together.
Maria listened in stunned silence until Claire finished. “Wow. That’s wonderful! Seriously. I’m so happy for you. But you’re not going to let her slip away, are you?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated, shmomplicated. What the hell isn’t in life?”
“True. But I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“Oh, you’re ready, trust me. I can tell you really care about this woman, the way you talk about her, the way she’s got you in this state. There’s a lot of love still left in that heart of yours if you’d just open it up a crack. Are you falling in love with her?”
Claire sighed miserably. “I think so.”
“Then allow yourself to explore things further. You know, make sure it wasn’t just the sunshine and alcohol and all those crazy wedding bells down there.”
Claire smiled. “It wasn’t.”
“Then don’t let this opportunity slip away.”
She thought of Amanda, wondered what she was doing right now. Probably getting ready for a class, or maybe preparing for final exams. Maybe she was just getting out of bed, and Claire smiled as she remembered her tousled morning hair, the sleepy but peaceful look in her eyes. No, she didn’t want Amanda to slip away from her, to disappear, to become just a memory. Maybe this was indeed her shot at happiness, her shot at a future. Again. She supposed there was nothing to say you couldn’t start over in life. Like halftime in football—two separate games in one.
“What would Ann think of her?”
The question shocked her back to reality. God, she hadn’t thought of that. It took her a moment to coalesce her thoughts enough to answer. “She’d like her. She’d like her intelligence, her warmth, her humor. She’d say she was worldly and very mature for her age. And she’d definitely think she was hot.”
“She sounds perfect.”
Yes, Amanda did sound perfect. But their timing wasn’t so perfect. In fact, it wasn’t good at all. “It might be too soon for this, that’s all. I still miss Ann.”
“Of course you do. You’ll always miss Ann. She shared your life for a long time. But I don’t think she’d want that to hold you back forever. I think she’d want you to keep her in your heart, to keep the memories, but she’d want you to be happy, to live your life.”
“I know. She’d probably kick my butt right now if she could.”
Maria laughed. She’d known Ann long enough to know that was true. “God, you deserve some happiness, Claire. And you deserve to have someone love you. A future is the best gift you can give yourself.”
Claire shrugged, relenting a little. Maria had a good point, but there was st
ill the matter of Shannon. “I hope everyone else agrees, but I’m not so sure.”
“Well, the only person who has to approve of it is you.” Maria leapt up suddenly. “Crap, our first patient is due any minute. It’s great to have you back. And it’s great to see you happy. Or at least, starting to be happy. Just keep it up, will you?”
“You know something? You’re a lot smarter sometimes than you look,” Claire teased.
“So are you.”
Later in bed, Tucker snoring away at her feet, Claire stared into the blackness that was the ceiling and thought about Ann, remembered the good times they’d had, but also the harder times. They were together the years Claire worked obsessively hard at her career. There were times when she worked fourteen-hour days, six days a week. Times they hardly saw one another, times when they let their relationship survive on autopilot. And when Ann was so sick, their focus had been on her health and comfort and not on their relationship. Ann’s death had forced her to slow down and begin the process of taking stock of her life and of what was important. Her period of introspection had included a heavy dose of guilt for all the years she’d spent working instead of spending quality time with Ann. Doubts had crept in, doubts about how healthy their relationship truly was when they’d spent so little time nourishing it. She remembered wishing, and then later promising herself, that she would do things differently if given a do-over some day. Work wasn’t her entire life anymore like it had been. She tried to do a better job of listening to people now, to place more value in the simple things, like a good meal, walking the dog, or moments with friends. Since Ann, she tried to live in the now. It was a good thing, being present in the present, but at the same time, she had refused to allow herself to consider what the future might look like. Especially a future that involved someone other than Ann.
Ann’s death had been a life-changing event for her. So too had meeting Amanda. Claire was fresher, more alive, more hopeful now than she’d been in many years. She had begun thinking about the future again, thinking, for the first time in three years, that maybe she wouldn’t have to go through the rest of her life alone. For a week, the albatross of her loneliness had evaporated from around her neck, invigorating her, making her feel free and unencumbered for the first time in many years. Amanda had given her a glimpse of the future. And so much more.
The Wedding Party Page 24