Lucky Love: A Lesbian Romance

by Anna Cove

  ...

  LENA

  After Salata, I made my way back to the office. Its emptiness only made me feel hollower.

  What had I done?

  I could blame it on Tara, but I had lost us that client. I had let my personal feelings and my temper get the best of me. For the first time in my life, I wanted to talk to someone about it. I wanted to seek comfort in someone else, but when I brought out my phone and scrolled through the contacts, no one popped out at me.

  Three ex-girlfriends. A distant cousin. Friends who weren't really friends.

  None of them would make me feel better. I knew who would, or who would have given different circumstances. Alice. But I had ruined my chances with her. I'd let myself get caught up in jealousy. Was I even capable of having a healthy relationship? Why had I never asked myself this question before?

  I scrolled in my contacts until I found someone who might know the answer.

  The phone rang so many times I almost hung up.

  A breathless Laura answered just before I gave up. "Is your house burning down?"

  "No," I said.

  "Then can I call you back?"

  "I was hoping—"

  "Do you have something for me to sign? If so, our PO box number is 954."

  I squinted. "What are you talking about?"

  "Grandma Lois's house. That girl... Alice? Didn't you need me to sign something to have her removed?"

  I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers into them. I was such an ass. Like, the worst of all asses. "No, I'm not pursuing that course of action. You were right. Alice deserves the house."

  Laura sighed, cooing something in baby language to one of her children. I could picture her, her dark hair in a messy bun, a baby on her hip. She had this whole life thing figured out. I didn't want to waste any more time, so I decided to get right to my question.

  "Laura?" I asked.

  "Yeah?" she said dreamily.

  "Why don't people like me?"

  Laura paused for a long time. She drew in a breath and sighed. "It's not that people don't like you, Lena, it's that they do. Then something clicks in you and you push them away. I don't know if it's because of Mom and Dad or because of your adoption. But you've been like this since you were little."

  Every bit of me wanted to argue against this. I'd had longtime friends. I'd had girlfriends. I'd dated some of them for years. But that, I started to realize, did not mean I had let them get close.

  My relationship history started to make sense. All those times I decided I couldn't go one more hour with this woman or that woman. All the times I'd started fights when I hadn't even felt angry or irritated. All those times I'd broken up with someone by changing my phone number. They all fit a narrative.

  Somehow, Alice had gotten closer than any of them, and I'd done what I'd always done. I went on the attack.

  "You've been waiting to say that for a while," I said. "Haven't you?"

  "I was waiting for you to be ready. I worry about you, little sis."

  "Thanks, Laura." My voice choked in my throat. We had never been terribly close, but I found myself wanting more time with her. More of this. "Hey, what if I come visit you after the new year?"

  "We'd love that. We have a cot—"

  "I'll stay in a hotel," I said quickly.

  Laura laughed. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

  It was a short conversation, but it was enough. It was another one of those moments where the truth snapped into focus. My pattern clear, now all I had to do was fix it. I knew what to do—I needed to commit to Alice. To give myself to her.

  But first I had to clear away distractions.

  So I sent out the app for the first round of beta testing and managed to work my contacts to find a few more potential investor options. In the meantime, the first payment from the sale of the antiques came in and I was able to pay Tara and myself.

  In those weeks, I didn't hear from Alice, but I missed her. I let myself miss her. This was new to me, and it hurt, but it was something I had to do.

  When I felt like I had a better handle on things in the office, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to her. I've missed you. I don't want to waste any more time. Can we talk?

  Thought bubbles popped up on my phone, then went away, then appeared again.

  A message popped up on the screen. I miss you, too. Let's do it in person. Come for Thanksgiving next week at Aunt Helen's.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ALICE

  Thanksgiving arrived. The feelings and nerves I'd managed to distract myself from for weeks rose again. The passage of time had allowed me to forgive Lena fully, it wasn't that. We all made mistakes in anger. But I was doubting my invitation to Thanksgiving. Had it been hasty? We hadn't even spoken recently, really, except for a series of text messages. They were nice enough, but it was hard to know what someone was thinking in text form. At least I would have Aunt Helen as a buffer if things went sideways.

  Since cooking occupied most of the morning, I put on something simple and twisted my hair in a French twist. I was in charge of the turkey and stuffing, Aunt Helen in charge of the cranberry sauce and string beans and her famous clam chowder. We worked without speaking, each of us focused on our tasks.

  Lena arrived around late morning, ringing the doorbell. A tightness gripped my chest.

  Aunt Helen shot me a look. "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "I'm fine." I forced my shoulders to lower.

  "You've barely said a word all morning and you seem stressed."

  "I'm just—" I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm nervous about how you and Lena will get along, that's all."

  Aunt Helen placed her hands on her hips. "Honey, if you like her, I'm sure I will. I promise to be on my best behavior."

  "It's not you I'm worried about." The doorbell rang again, and I found myself wishing we'd had this conversation earlier in the day when I would have had time to explain. I lifted my chin. "She can be a bit... brusque," I said under my breath. "Don't take anything personally."

  "I'm sure it will be fine. Go. Answer the door, dear. Your guest is waiting."

  I smoothed my apron and, out of things to do, opened the door.

  "I'm sorry I'm late." Lena opened her arms, a bunch of flowers in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. She wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tight, somehow avoiding smacking me in the back with her items.

  Shocked, I barely managed to pat her on the lower back.

  Lena pulled away and closed the door behind her. "I couldn't decide between roses or daisies, so I got a funky bunch that reminded me of you. Here."

  Lena handed me a bunch of flowers in dazzling colors, made even more dazzling because of the dull gray that had descended on the outside world. My eyes burned, so I brought the flowers to my nose and sniffed to fill the need to speak.

  "And this is for you," Lena said while I was sniffing. I turned to see her giving the bag to Aunt Helen. "Alice told me you liked sweets and that's why she bakes so much. I wasn't sure what you'd like but the woman at the bakery down the street said chocolate would make anyone happy. I'm really glad to meet you, finally."

  "I'm happy to meet you, too." Aunt Helen laughed deeply. "Why don't you take off your coat and put it in the first bedroom on the right down the hall."

  "Sure," Lena said, humming as she went.

  This was certainly a new Lena, a chatty one.

  Aunt Helen lowered her chin. "Brusque, eh?"

  Before I had a chance to reply, Lena practically bounced into the kitchen. "How can I help?"

  "Stir this chowder for a while so it doesn't burn," Aunt Helen said, handing her the spoon.

  I placed the flowers in a vase and snapped to action, crossing to the closet, picking out an apron that would match Lena's outfit. On the way, I decided I would just embrace whatever came with this new Lena, and not overthink it too much. We would have time to parse it out later.

  I picked out a blue striped apron, walked it over to Le
na and slipped it over her head. Then I tied it around her waist saying, "It's a uniform here. Don't want to splash on your lovely white blouse."

  Lena smiled. "Thank you."

  She was so close I could kiss her. I didn't realize how much I'd missed her until she was right there, right up near my face. She leaned forward and pecked my cheek. Aunt Helen chuckled as I blushed and pulled away.

  "I better check the turkey," I muttered.

  I made sure to take a few breaths before opening the oven. Using my oven mitts, I pulled out the bird and lifted the foil. Then I basted it, sucking the juice from the bottom of the tray and pouring it over the top of the turkey. All along, I was acutely aware of Lena in my house. With my Aunt Helen. And how well they were getting along.

  This was all good. So why did I feel unsettled about it all?

  The unsettled feeling turned out to be hunger, because once we sat down and I got some food in my stomach, the unease fluttered away. Aunt Helen and Lena took up most of the conversation. Lena talked about the app she was about to launch, about her flights to and from San Francisco. Aunt Helen asked her about her family and Lena told the crazy story about her sister living in a mobile home with three kids under the age of five. She talked about her parents, about how she was adopted and never quite felt like she fit in.

  We had spoken of these things, too, in passing, but never had I seen Lena so open. She finished her meal before us and sighed contentedly. "I was wondering, could you two tell me a little about my grandmother? What was she like in the end?"

  Aunt Helen wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it down next to her plate. "I knew her when she was young. We went to school together. Our fathers worked in the factory together. She was always a bit proper."

  "I found that, too," Lena said.

  Aunt Helen smirked. "I remember you as quite a handful."

  Lena nodded. "I was having trouble in school, falling in with the wrong group of people. My mother thought it would be a good idea to send me here to whip some sense into me, and to get me away from the crowd. My grandfather had just died, too, so everyone thought the pairing was a good idea."

  "Except for you."

  "Right. I swore I'd never come here again. I have to admit, when I returned here I wanted to bust through everything as quickly as possible. Get in. Get out. Now, I'm here largely because of Alice."

  I swallowed. Wow. This was a lot. And completely unexpected. We hadn't yet had a conversation about the future, but this seemed like a firm declaration from Lena. Where was it all coming from?

  We would have to talk about that later. Before I could dig in, Lena turned back to Aunt Helen. "Do you mind me asking... what was she like after I left?"

  "Alice would know that better than me. In the last years of her life, she barely left her house."

  I had offered to tell Lena dozens of times about her grandmother, but she'd never wanted to listen. The fact that she was ready told me that things really had shifted in her mind. I folded my hands in my lap. "She was still prudish when I knew her. Had to have her proper tea at the proper time."

  "Can I ask you a question?" Lena asked.

  "Sure." I shrugged.

  "Did she know you were gay?"

  I glanced toward Aunt Helen. "Of course. Most people in town do."

  "You're sure."

  "Yes, she asked me once, actually."

  Lena sat back, shaking her head. "I don't get it."

  "Don't get what?"

  "That was our major issue. She tried to send me to a 'pray the gay away' summer camp. She told me I was a sinner."

  Lena's eyes glassed over. She was back to that place in her childhood, or somewhere else she'd experience pain. I reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers.

  Aunt Helen stood from the table. "I'm going to let you two talk for a bit while I start the dishes. Come help me when you're done so we can get to the pumpkin pie."

  I nodded as Aunt Helen made her way to the kitchen. I had been lucky to have her as a support. I wanted to tell Lena I understood, but the thing was, I didn't. While everyone in town knew, that was the easy part. I'd never come out to my parents. The timing had never seemed right, but truly, I'd never had the courage.

  "I'm sorry that happened to you," I said. "Maybe she was trying to right a wrong she knew she'd done. People have come a long way on gay rights in the past ten years. Maybe she was evolving."

  "She did try to call me a couple of times in the months before she died. Maybe she sensed death was coming. I'll never know now."

  "But you do. She left you a treasure. Isn't that saying something?"

  "And she left you the house."

  "A house in which you had terrible memories."

  Lena's eyes widened. She leaned forward. I met her halfway, placing my forehead on hers, then I pulled her into a hug, squeezing her. We separated after a long moment.

  Lena sniffed, though not a tear had spilled from her eyes. "I want to hear more about her, about your time with her."

  "I can do that."

  "I want something else, too. I want us to try to make this work. When I was back in San Francisco, I learned a few things. I don't want to lose any more time with you."

  Emotion swelled in my throat. Before I could answer her in the affirmative—yes, yes—my phone rang. An image of my parents flashed on the screen.

  "Who's that?" Lena asked.

  "My parents call on the holidays."

  "Take it." She stood from her chair. "I'll help Aunt Helen with the dishes."

  I stared at the phone as Lena disappeared. I could tell them right now. I could tell them and get it over with and by the time they arrived for Christmas, they would be used to the idea.

  I answered the phone, flicking the green answer button and straightening my shoulders. "Hi, Mom. Hi Dad."

  "Hi, sweetie," Mom said, waving. She looked tired, aged ten years since the last time I had seen her. She wore no makeup, and her blond hair wisped around her face. Dad popped into the screen, also looking older than I remembered, his hair gray around the temples. He waved.

  I picked up the phone and walked down the hallway toward my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  "How's Helen?" Mom asked.

  "She's good," I said.

  "Still kicking?"

  "Oh yeah, still kicking hard. She's doing the dishes as we speak."

  "You're letting her do the dishes at her age?"

  Something inside me twisted. "I have a friend who's helping her."

  "You're letting your great aunt and a guest do all the dishes?"

  My mother's words added another twist to the gut—and she wasn't even trying yet. "I'll help them when I'm done with you. I just wanted to say hi."

  "Give the phone to me," Dad said. The background blurred and settled on the face of my father. "Let me see my sweet girl. Wow, you look beautiful today."

  "Thanks, Daddy," I said.

  "Who's your friend?" Mom asked from the sidelines.

  Tell her. Tell her. "You know how I inherited the Victorian down the street from that old woman Lois Luck?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, her granddaughter inherited all that was in the old Victorian. I'm helping her sell the antiques. We're almost finished the work and I invited her to Thanksgiving because she didn't have anyone else."

  "That's very kind of you, sweetie," Dad said.

  I struggled to hold back the smile that surfaced at this tiny crumb of approval from my father.

  "How's the business going?" Mom asked. It was like she had a crystal ball and could see which topics would upset me.

  "We had a couple of slow months."

  "Around the holiday season? That's not good."

  "Well," I sighed. "I was busy with helping Lena get rid of her stuff and didn't have much time to run the shop. Aunt Helen did the best she could, but I don't expect her to take it all on."

  My mother stole the phone back from my father, frowning. "I'm worried about what this inheritance mea
ns for you. You've always had a lazy streak—"

  "Catherine," my father chided.

  "She needs to hear this."

  My face burned with heat, my throat felt like it was closing.

  "You could be doing so much with that house," she said. "Practical things. Do you know how many people could use the shelter? Don't waste what you have."

  "It's too late for that. I've already got the shop open," I blurted.

  "Oh?" Mom raised her eyebrows.

  "Well, I'm transferring it over this week. I'm really making the business mine. I'm planning on donating a portion of the proceeds to local women's organizations. Any furniture that comes through that I can't sell on the antiques market, I'll donate to people in need. I can't wait for you to see the whole operation."

  "Me either," Mom said, but her voice held a hint of doubt, as if she didn't believe me. "That was a fast turnaround for you. You officially inherited the house in September?"

  "Yeah. Hey, can we talk about something else. How are—"

  "Are you seeing anyone?"

  I rolled my eyes. "No, Mom."

  "No nice gentleman?"

  This was my chance. I could tell her no, Mom, there'll never be a nice gentleman. I like women. I've always liked women. You know I like women as I had Alicia Keys posters plastering my wall as a teen. But suddenly, with the crackling reception, it all seemed too impersonal. What if the connection dropped? What if I told them and they didn't have a chance to respond? It was too much of a risk. I would tell them in person.

  "Nope, sorry. Hey, I've got to go help with the dishes. Happy Thanksgiving."

  "Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie," Dad said.

  I hung up before I could say anything more. The unsettled feeling returned, and this time I couldn't blame it on hunger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  LENA

  The temperature of the gathering cooled after Alice spoke with her parents. As we finished dessert, I invited Alice to come back to the house with me. It was all going so well back in San Fran I wanted to share my progress with her. Main mission: to raise the temperature.