Waiting for You

by Elle Spencer

  Lindsay. Sexy, enigmatic, passionate Lindsay.

  Ren remembered every moan, every thrust against her fingers, every aching request for more. More touch, more tongue, more skin on her skin. Lindsay gave all of herself without hesitation. No holding back. No questioning looks. Just trust. And lust.

  Lindsay turned, and Ren grinned from ear to ear. “You look pretty in pink.” The beanie had matching fingerless gloves. Ren imagined how much fun it would be to remove this outfit from Lindsay’s body. She’d do it slowly, one finger at a time.

  Lindsay got closer and looked her up and down. “Did you dress up for me?”

  “If I said I dressed up for Mrs. Stokely, would you believe me?”

  “After the last visit? Yes.”

  It was a lie, though. Ren had spent the morning throwing clothes around her room. She’d brought a few nice outfits with the intention of never wearing them. That was before she met Lindsay.

  She’d decided to stick with jeans so her outfit wouldn’t be such an obvious cry for attention. Her ankle boots were black. It was probably the tucked-in silk shirt Lindsay had commented on, a shade of blue that reminded Ren of cotton candy. She wore a black puffer vest that would be removed once they were inside Mrs. Stokely’s roaster oven of a house.

  Lindsay grabbed Ren’s vest with both hands and pulled her closer. “I think you wore this sexy outfit for me. And after last night, I’d say you’re two for two.”

  Ren put her hands on Lindsay’s hips. “Last night was amazing. I need more of last night. You know, right after I get out of detention for kissing you good night.”

  “Wait. How did you get in trouble?”

  “Brooke told Corey, who told Deb.”

  “We might as well be in high school. Sorry my kid’s such a blabbermouth.”

  “I’m not sorry about anything. Are you?”

  “About last night?” Lindsay shook her head. “No. When can we do it again?”

  “What was your favorite part about being with a woman?”

  “Not just any woman. I was with you, Ren. And I have lots of favorite parts.”

  “Please tell me.”

  “Here on the street? In front of Mrs. Stokely’s house?” Lindsay grabbed her forearm and pulled her closer. She leaned in and whispered, “I loved how turned on you got just looking at me. How in tune you were with what I was feeling. How wet you made me. How you felt inside me.”

  Ren swooned. Lindsay had been on her mind all morning. She couldn’t wait to see her again. Touch her. Tell her how incredible last night was. Tell her how desperately she wanted to do it again. No one—not Deb, nor anyone else—could keep her from seeing Lindsay. How she wanted to make love to her at midnight and again at six a.m. Hand-feed her breakfast in bed. Lick maple syrup off her nipples. And whipped cream. Definitely whipped cream.

  Lindsay cleared her throat and whispered, “You’re staring at my boobs.”

  “Right, um…sorry. I was imagining…anyway, hi.” Ren breathed out that last word as if it were a sigh of relief.

  “Hi.” Lindsay motioned with her head toward the house. “Maybe we could sneak into the garage and fool around in the Mistmobile.”

  Ren bit her lip. Oh, the things they could get up to in the back seat of Mrs. Stokely’s car. “I should be so lucky.”

  Lindsay bounced on her heels. “How is it even possible that I could feel this excited to have coffee with Mrs. Stokely?”

  “It’s the anticipation. You can almost smell the mountain-grown aroma wafting from the kitchen. The instant crystals tingling your nostrils, tempting your taste buds.”

  The door creaked open, and Mrs. Stokely shouted, “The coffee’s brewing. Better get in here.”

  They hurried down the path to her front door. “Brewing?” Lindsay whispered.

  “Maybe we’re wrong about it being instant.”

  “I think she’s probably using the word loosely.” Lindsay raised her voice to a normal volume. Or perhaps a bit louder than normal given the audience. “Hi, Mrs. Stokely.”

  “Come in. But don’t make yourselves at home. Just semi-comfortable.”

  Ren tried to cover up the snort that snuck out with a light cough. She took off her vest and waited for Lindsay to take off her hat and scarf, then put them on a chair. While Mrs. Stokely was in the kitchen, she took the time to really look around for any evidence of the mysterious Millie. There were a few old, tattered black-and-white photos hanging in frames on the wall. Parents and grandparents, Ren imagined. Maybe an aunt and uncle or two. Nothing of a woman with graying hair dressed in a fabulous pantsuit.

  “Psst.” Lindsay pointed at a small oval frame on an end table next to a basket of yarn and crochet hooks. Ren recognized the pile of multicolored squares that would eventually become a beautiful blanket that would hang over the back of a rocking chair or be placed on the end of a bed. Her own grandmother used to sew something very similar while watching her favorite soap opera—her “story” as she called it—The Light of Day.

  Ren picked up the frame. “Millie?” she whispered. Lindsay nodded. Sure enough, Millie had on a yellow pantsuit with matching pumps. Large plastic jewelry adorned her neck and ears. She was stylish for her time, no doubt. Ren turned the frame over, hoping to find an inscription. It simply said M. 1977.

  “That’s my cousin Millie.” They both turned and found Mrs. Stokely standing with a tray, watching them.

  Ren set the photo down. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She took the tray and set it on the coffee table.

  “It would appear otherwise.” Mrs. Stokely slumped into her chair. “I’m feeling a bit tired today. You two go ahead and serve yourselves.” She picked up the photo of Millie and ran her thumbs over the narrow gold frame. “It’s her birthday today.”

  “Oh,” Lindsay said. “I hope we’re not intruding.”

  Mrs. Stokely waved her comment off. “If you hadn’t stopped by, I’d have no one to tell that it’s her birthday today.”

  Ren leaned over and admired the photo again. “She’s beautiful. And she wore that pantsuit like a boss.”

  “Like a boss?” Mrs. Stokely asked. “Well, I suppose that’s because she was. She was the school principal.”

  “No, I meant she wore it really well,” Ren said. “She’s fabulous.”

  “She was indeed.” Mrs. Stokely looked at the photo again. “Millie loved all of the latest fashions. Her pant legs were so wide it was like ironing a tablecloth. I was more on the conservative side. Pedal pushers and skirts were my style. Now comfort is all I care about. Millie would roll over in her grave if she knew I wore old lady shoes with Velcro straps.”

  Ren sat next to Lindsay on the sofa. Mrs. Stokely seemed to have drifted into thoughts of Millie, so she whispered, “Let’s give Millie a birthday party.”

  Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Right now?”

  Ren winked, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent a text to Deb.

  “I see you took my advice,” Mrs. Stokely said, her eyes on Ren.

  “Advice?” Ren put her phone back in her pocket in hopes she wouldn’t get reprimanded for using it during their visit. Manners and all that.

  “You look smart today. Pretty instead of lazy. Well, I shouldn’t say lazy. Anyone with that many holes in their pants probably works too hard.”

  Mrs. Stokely had a hearty laugh that Ren could appreciate, even if the laugh was at her expense. “Thank you, Mrs. Stokely. Would Millie approve?”

  “She would indeed. And she’d probably ask where you bought those fancy boots. I swear it’s like night and day. What’d you do? Hire one of those expensive stylists from New York?”

  Ren nudged Lindsay’s knee. She needed to get in on this conversation so Ren could look at Deb’s reply. “Oh,” Lindsay said. “We haven’t even poured the coffee.”

  “Millie used to make the best coffee,” Mrs. Stokely said. “Isn’t it funny how everything tastes so much better when someone else makes it for you? Of course, Millie would splurge
on high-quality coffee as if she owned shares in Maxwell House.” Mrs. Stokely shook her head and laughed under her breath. “Sweet, sassy Millie.”

  One could safely assume that Mrs. Stokely wasn’t one to throw things away. She’d had the same car and furniture for forty years. That gave Ren an idea. “Mrs. Stokely, did you happen to keep any of Millie’s outfits?”

  “A few things. Maybe a closet full. It’s been so long I really can’t remember what I saved and what I didn’t.”

  Lindsay caught right on and said, “I’d love to see some of those fabulous clothes. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Why would you want to see a bunch of old clothes? Are you trying to pull a trick on me, Lindsay Hall?” She shook her finger at them. “I know how you young people are, always wanting to sell things on the eBay.”

  Ren was about to cut in so she could quell Mrs. Stokely’s suspicions, but Lindsay put a hand on Ren’s knee and said, “You know me, Mrs. Stokely. I would never try to trick you into doing anything.”

  “That may be true, but fancy dresser over here, she has my radar up so high I can hear Russians snoring in their sleep.” Mrs. Stokely leaned forward. “Is this outfit supposed to charm me? Make me blind to your trickery?”

  Okay, this wasn’t going well at all. Ren wondered if it was too late to stop Deb from stopping by. “This is how I normally dress. Like I said yesterday, the old boots I stole…I mean, borrowed, from Deb are strictly for Salt Creek.”

  “That doesn’t make a lick of sense, but I’m glad to hear you have some taste.”

  Mrs. Stokely got up from her chair. “If you’re in town for long, you should probably take heed of the fact that people around here don’t know how to keep to their own affairs. Always butting into people’s business.”

  She hobbled toward the hall that Ren assumed led to the bedrooms. They followed her to a closed door at the end of the hall.

  She put her hand on the door and paused. “You’ll probably notice that she was special to me. We were as close as sisters, and this was her room.” She opened the door. “You two go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”

  Ren had assumed Mrs. Stokely would pull an old suitcase out from under a bed or grab a few things from the back of the closet that she’d held on to over the years. It was clear from the look of surprise on Lindsay’s face that neither of them had expected to find an entire room dedicated to Millie.

  The room didn’t smell stale. There wasn’t a thick layer of dust like one would expect to find in a room that had been closed up, never to be used again. This room looked pristine. There were even fresh vacuum marks in the avocado green carpet.

  A double bed sat against the far wall, flanked by two windows. A loud floral print bedspread in shades of greens and blues covered the bed. There was a dent in one of the pillows, though the bed was still made.

  They explored the room in silence, giving it the reverence it deserved. Framed photographs of Mrs. Stokely and Millie covered the walls. In every photo, they’d found a way to touch each other without really touching each other. A hand on a shoulder. Hips touching. Heads leaned in to one another.

  In her prime, Mrs. Stokely had been just as beautiful as Millie. She wore pretty summer dresses and colorful shorts with fitted tops. Her jewelry was more subdued than Millie’s. A small gold cross hung from her neck in most of the photos. Knowing what to look for, Ren took a closer look and yes, there they were. Thin gold bands that they wore on their middle fingers instead of their ring fingers. Ren quietly pointed it out.

  Lindsay’s eyes widened in surprise. “She still wears it.”

  Ren’s heart broke for both of them. She went to the door. “Mrs. Stokely? Will you come in and sit with us? Since it’s Millie’s birthday, I think it would be nice to hear a story or two about her, and if she’s out there, maybe she’ll know that she hasn’t been forgotten.”

  “She’s out there, silly girl.” Mrs. Stokely sat on the end of the bed, and sure enough, the narrow gold band was still on her finger.

  Ren sat on one side of her and Lindsay on the other. Ren didn’t dare take Mrs. Stokely’s hand, though she wanted to. The trust hadn’t been built yet, but Ren hoped she could change that with what she was about to say. “This room is a lovely tribute to a beautiful woman and a life well lived. She was lucky to have you.”

  “Oh, I was the lucky one.” Mrs. Stokely patted Ren’s knee. “But I thank you for saying so.”

  Ren took a chance and covered Mrs. Stokely’s hand with her own. “Mrs. Stokely, did you know that I’m a lesbian? I’m only announcing it because I want you to know that you can trust me. You can also trust Lindsay because last night, we kissed for the first time. Well, we did more than kiss, but I don’t want to get too graphic.”

  Mrs. Stokely turned her stiff neck and raised her eyebrows at Lindsay. “Is that so?”

  Lindsay leaned in and said, “Brooke saw the kiss, and you know what that means.”

  Mrs. Stokely glanced at her watch. “You say it happened last night? Well, it’s too late, dear. Even the mayor has been informed of your misdeed, but that’s not the worst of your troubles.”

  “No?”

  “Heavens no. It’s Patty. She’s had her eye on you for years. Better not tell her, or you’ll be in a heap o’ trouble.”

  Lindsay gasped. “You knew that?”

  “Oh, please,” Mrs. Stokely said with a huff. “That girl may know fine art, but she most certainly doesn’t know the fine art of subtlety.”

  “I bet you and Millie were experts,” Ren said.

  It was a risky thing to say, and it caused Mrs. Stokely to go still. Then, with a slow turn of her head, she eyed Ren. The three of them sat in silence at the end of the bed. Ren wondered if she should break the silence with a joke, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Luckily, Lindsay saved the day by putting her arm around Mrs. Stokely’s shoulders. “You’re right about Patty. She wears her heart on her sleeve.”

  “Millie and I didn’t have that luxury. Back then, the people of this town weren’t so accepting.” She stood and went to the side of the bed and lingered there for a moment. She opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out an old photograph. “We said our vows to each other right here in this room, just the two of us.” She wiped a tear with the back of her finger. “I remember thinking, why does this magnificent woman want to be bound to little ol’ me when she could have anyone? I didn’t question it for too long, though. I jumped in with both feet, and boy, did we have a life together.” She handed the photo over to them. Lindsay took it, and she and Ren admired it together.

  Mrs. Stokely and Millie had somehow managed to take a selfie on their wedding day. They both wore white veils and simple white dresses. The photo had indeed been taken in this very room where time stood still, even down to a perfume bottle that hadn’t moved from the dresser.

  Lindsay sat by Mrs. Stokely and wrapped her arms around her. “What a beautiful wedding day. You both looked stunning.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand. It was the last one. Mrs. Stokely had surely cried many tears on that bed over the years.

  She tucked the photo back in the drawer and closed it. “We took the film to the city to be developed. Couldn’t risk doing it here where everyone knew us as cousins. I wanted to have one where we were kissing, but Millie said even the city folk might cause us some trouble.”

  “Where is Millie buried? I’d love to visit her with you someday,” Lindsay said.

  “After she passed, her family came and took her away. I imagine she’s buried up in Maine somewhere.” She patted her chest with her hand. “But she’s always right here with me.”

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Ren said.

  Ren barely held it together as she went to the door. She wanted to cry for Millie and Mrs. Stokely. She wanted to cry with her and let her know that it was safe to declare her love for her wife now. No one would hurt her. No one would try to besmirch Millie’s memory or the life they had tog
ether.

  Ren opened the door and took the box from Deb, then kissed her cheek and whispered, “Have I told you lately that I’m so lucky to have you in my life?”

  Deb kissed her back. “Don’t ever forget it, Soda Pop. Gotta run. Number Two is in the car screaming his head off about how his shirt isn’t purple enough.”

  “Buy twelve purple shirts, then when one fades…”

  Deb hurried back up the sidewalk. “If I did that, he’d say he wants blue shirts. Trust me, there’s no winning here.”

  “You’re a winner in my book,” Ren shouted. She took a peek inside the box and whispered, “Perfect.”

  * * *

  Lindsay chided herself for not having this conversation much sooner with Mrs. Stokely. After a life of total secrecy, she shouldn’t have had to bear the weight of her loss all alone. But they were here now, and she promised herself she’d do all she could to make sure Mrs. Stokely felt safe both celebrating and mourning the life she had with Millie.

  Ren came back in the room carrying a cake box. “Don’t look, Mrs. Stokely. It’s a surprise.”

  “What are you up to, dear?”

  Mrs. Stokely tried to look, but Lindsay blocked her way. “My goodness, don’t you ever listen?” she said, repeating Mrs. Stokely’s famous line from her teaching days.

  Mrs. Stokely seemed unimpressed. “Nice try. But you didn’t get the tone right. I’m a mite surprised, frankly, given how often you heard it.”

  Ren sported a huge grin when she turned around, birthday cake in hand. “Oh, wow,” Lindsay exclaimed. It was a round cake, frosted white with pink roses with Millie’s name written in yellow. She stood and pulled Mrs. Stokely up with her.

  “Okay,” Ren said. “I’m not singing alone.” She started singing the birthday song, and Lindsay joined in.

  Mrs. Stokely threw her hands over her mouth. Her eyes teared up as she blew a kiss to the ceiling. “Happy birthday, dear Millie…” She couldn’t finish the song, but Ren and Lindsay finished it for her.