Warming Trend

by Karin Kallmaker

  After a moment, Eve extended her hands across the table. “Right now I can’t get over the past. I’m afraid…”

  Ani curled her fingers around Eve’s, surprised to find them cold, and quickly said, “I won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

  Eve made a strangled sound. “You can’t promise that.”

  “I can, Eve. I won’t hurt you again.”

  Eve’s fingers tightened convulsively around Ani’s. The blue in her eyes was as if the sun had gone behind the clouds. “I’m afraid, Ani, because now that you’re here it’s going to hurt me all over again if—when you go. When you go.”

  “If I stay?”

  “Can you stay? What about the job in Norway?”

  Ani’s lips twitched. “If I find the notebook I’m thinking that job might not be there. But even if I went—I couldn’t ask you to go too. Give up your business, which is doing well, I take it?”

  “Very well. All I ever wanted.” Eve’s lips curved into a tremulous smile. “All I ever wanted that wasn’t you.”

  Ani studied their entwined fingers for a moment. “I’m having trouble thinking things through. There’s so many what-ifs. But I’m thinking that we can’t start over. We can’t pick up where we left off, though it feels like that’s what we’re doing.”

  She saw her words leech the color from Eve’s cheeks. “Then why are you here right now?”

  Ani took a deep breath. What was the point of hope if she didn’t give it a chance? She’d lost three years, but the idea of losing any more time with Eve for want of words was a mistake she wouldn’t repeat. “I want to start anew.”

  The color came back to Eve’s face. Her eyes lost the shadows and all at once Ani saw the humor again, and the easy, warm light. “I have deviled eggs in the fridge.”

  Not letting go of Eve’s hands, Ani got to her feet, and pulled Eve up with her. “Maybe later.”

  “This is foolishness,” Eve whispered and Ani pulled her close. “We’ve settled nothing.”

  “I guess not,” Ani said. She inhaled the sweet scent of Eve, and felt warm way down in the river of ice where her heart had been hiding. She rocked Eve in her arms, needing no music. “All I know is that this is the most right I’ve felt since I left.”

  Eve made a noise that Ani couldn’t decipher, then gently pushed her away. The humor was gone and she was surprised to see tears. “I need some time, Ani. I built some really good walls, and I promised myself I wouldn’t be a fool again. And now you walk in here, and you put your arms around me, and it feels like the very next day to my heart and I want you to stay and I want you to go.”

  Ani did what she had so badly wanted to do yesterday. She wiped away Eve’s tears with her thumbs, studying the upturned face. They could kiss, they could even make love, but when they stopped, they’d be right back here with too many what-ifs. She didn’t want to be with Eve and all their doubts. It didn’t matter that her mouth ached to taste Eve again, and a low throb had settled in her pelvis. Parts of her, frozen for years, were definitely thawed.

  Eve was shaking her head. “That’s not fair.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “You being so you.”

  “I’m not asking you to forget what I did, Eve.”

  “I know. And so far I can’t.” She trapped Ani’s hands with her own, drawing them slowly downward.

  Ani held her breath, not knowing what Eve intended, but whatever it was, it was where Ani was going. She felt Eve hesitate, knew she would find Eve’s breasts swollen and responsive—they were both breathing heavy. But Eve pulled Ani close again, wrapping her arms tight.

  “I want to.” Eve’s voice was strained with a pulse that Ani vividly remembered. “I know it will wipe the slate clean. But if you have to go again, I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it. So I think it will be easier to get over a few hugs than…finding out all over again how we can be together.”

  “I understand,” Ani said. Just yesterday, one hug had been enough. She had thought she had what she wanted. Once again, she knew it for a lie—she didn’t have all that she could dream. Well, for now they’d be grownups, and she owed Eve the least harm possible.

  She fetched her boots, thanked Eve for the coffee. She knew she sounded formal and stiff, but she was hoping to hide that she was just a few heartbeats away from begging Eve to touch her again. She’d felt warm, and now that was fading.

  “We’re back midday Sunday. Do you want to know what we found?”

  “Yes.” Eve’s voice was gentle, but it held new distance.

  “Shall I call you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Ani turned at the door, catching Eve looking at her hungrily, her face showing everything that Ani felt. Screw it, Ani thought. She pulled Eve close and kissed her, hard. Kissed her with three years of banked need. Kissed her again, more gently, and again, full of confidence that she remembered the caress that left Eve breathless.

  “Ani, please,” Eve whispered against her mouth. “Please.”

  “Please what?” She nuzzled Eve’s lower lip.

  “Please go.”

  Cold water wouldn’t have shocked her more. Ani blindly found the door, and was outside in the rental before she could even breathe.

  She backed down the driveway and gunned the tires in the gravel, but it didn’t do anything for the pulse between her legs, much less the voices in her head.

  “You blew it,” the voices all agreed. “You blew it.”

  * * *

  What did you just do? Eve leaned against the closed door, listening to the sound of Ani’s car fading into the distance. You could have at least had one last night in her arms, and at least known it was to be the last. What’s the point of denying yourself that?

  At the moment, her body heavy with the kind of desire she’d forgotten was real, she didn’t know what the point had been in sending Ani away. Maybe it was just too much like something in some women’s movie—a kiss fixes it all. Well, a kiss didn’t erase three years, and a kiss certainly didn’t change the fact that Ani was probably going to leave.

  All Ani’s kisses did was leave her sodden, with clothes that suddenly felt two sizes too tight, and a mouth bruised and seared by the heat of Ani’s lips. Oh, and there was that part about wanting the clothes off, and her mouth worshipping every bit of Ani that she could. Behind her closed eyes she could see them coiled on the bed, skin glistening, and in her ears was the echo of her own cries as Ani moved on top of her and rediscovered the places she’d claimed before.

  No, Ani’s kisses didn’t mean much. Eve lay face down on the sofa for a long while, sometimes feeling virtuous and in control of herself, and other times consumed with wanton desires that had all her inner cheerleaders applauding the fact that Eve Cambra was alive again.

  Alive and alone with her virtuous common sense—yeah, sure, that was living. She didn’t want to get hurt again and so she’d taken steps to prevent it. It was like having a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, sane and rational and safe. Well, she’d never had a fire in the kitchen that matched the one she felt burning along the nape of her neck at the memory of the times Ani had nuzzled there.

  She made herself work on the books, counting on inflows and outgoes to provide some libido-freezing magic. The price of milk was out of control. Rice was up ten percent in the last six months, but couscous was level. She did not want Ani to kiss her again, and decide for them. In September there would still be fresh pears, and she had a source of avocados for about three weeks. She could do Mexican salads and entrees. And she couldn’t feel Ani pressing her down, onto the bed, overwhelming that stupid voice of common sense. Guacamole, what a treat.

  Finally, in a frenzied dance of denial-capitulation, she called Tan, hung up. Then called her again.

  “Sorry,” Eve said. “Yes, that was me. The line was funny, so I called back.” Lies, all lies.

  “No worries,” Tan said. “Have you changed your mind? Did you see Ani?”

  “I did, and we talked
and she doesn’t know but I guess, yes, I’ll go. I mean…if I can get my chef settled, I’ll go. But I won’t know for sure until tomorrow morning, so please don’t tell Ani. I don’t want her to be disappointed. I…could you tell me where you’ll be?”

  “We’ve got a helicopter booked for eleven a.m. I was hoping you’d come and I packed rations for you. I’ll drop back in the morning and make sure we’ve got shelter and a backpack for you. Bringing Tonk?”

  “If I can make it, yes, I’ll bring Tonk. He’ll love it.” That’s right, all about making Tonk happy. Nothing to do with the pulse she couldn’t ignore and the tremulous hope that was building in her heart.

  “Well, how about this? Why don’t I stop in at the Dragonfly around nine thirty and collect Tonk either way?”

  “Oh.” Eve debated for only a moment. “Yes, that’s great. Ani will love having him with her. And by then I should know if I can join you.” Eve knew that it would take nothing short of Neeka not showing up to keep her from going on the expedition at this point, but she wasn’t admitting that, least of all to herself.

  Her common sense had gone so far out the door that after she hung up, she called Neeka’s cell phone.

  Neeka sounded weary, but confirmed she’d be back. “We’re just an hour from home. It was quite a whirlwind, boss, but I’m a respectable married lady again.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Eve really was pleased for her. “Are you sure you want to come back to work tomorrow?”

  “I have to.” Eve heard John muttering something, then the sounds of Neeka’s sons’ raucous laughter flowed through the phone. “If I don’t John won’t go to work either and that would be bad for the orchard. If you get my meaning.”

  Everyone in their car apparently got her meaning and Eve grinned into the phone. “I understand. Then I’ll see you in the morning. Bennie is set to help out, too, and I was thinking I might take the weekend off, as you suggested.”

  “You do that—you deserve it. You’ve got nothing to worry about, especially if I have that diva with a knife helping me.”

  It was an apt description of Bennie, and Eve quickly called him just to be sure he wouldn’t mind working with Neeka. He was fine, everybody was fine, there was no reason not to go.

  Except for the original reasons of the heart—her accursed common sense continued to object. So Eve told it to shut up, had a small snifter of brandy, finished paying her bills and took herself to bed. Thanks to the brandy she fell asleep quickly. When she woke she tried to pretend it was any other day, but her reflection showed a woman who knew she’d had wonderful dreams.

  Chapter 11

  “Tan will be here, don’t worry.” Ani slung her pack into the netting at the back of the Dawson Denali Tours cargo helicopter and pointed out where Lisa should store hers. “We’ve got ten minutes before we go on the pilot’s clock. Are you sure you don’t know where she went?”

  “Not a clue. And I can’t believe I spent the night at the motel with you. I thought for sure she’d ask me out, and we’d…you know. But she said she needed to work. What kind of horse-hooey is that?”

  “The horse-hooey of someone who works, and has Things To Do. Tan is really devoted to her job.”

  Lisa got the pack situated where Ani indicated, and locked it into place. “Well, she’s dense. But the pilot’s cute.”

  “She’s very straight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Four kids. What do you think?”

  “Then she shouldn’t be wearing flannel and boots. It gives a girl the wrong idea.” Lisa’s pout didn’t hide a slight tremor in her voice.

  Ani took pity on her. Lisa hadn’t been out of Florida before, and now she was going into a completely foreign environment, via helicopter—and she’d never been in one of those either. “Well, in Key West, all the girls wear the same slinky swimsuits, so gaydar is equally ineffective. I didn’t peg you, not right away at least. When you hit on me, then I thought, yes, she’s gay.”

  “I’m thinking that all in all, I might forgive Kirsten her little Ani-goes-home-with-anybody joke. It’s worked out okay for me, if the next two days don’t kill me.” Lisa grinned and gestured at her bona fide, sub-zero rated snowsuit. The bright, showy green had been Lisa’s choice, whereas Ani had defaulted to serviceable white and navy blue. “The problem with this gear is that it’s harder to read people, period. Harder to read body language.”

  Ani nodded. “I noticed, but so far, less clothing’s the only thing I miss about the tropical climate.”

  Meg Dawson, who had been a chopper pilot for as long as Ani could remember, hollered from inside the hanger, “You just tell me when you’re all there.”

  “Will do,” Ani called back. “You’re going to love the flight,” she told Lisa. “These copters are workhorses, and very stable in the air. This old Bell can take four sleds, sixteen dogs, just as many people and all the accompanying gear, without breaking a sweat. We’re just an outing in the park. The smaller craft are all out with tourists.”

  She was relieved to see Tan’s Subaru turn into the gate at the far end of the private field. “Look. You can breathe now.”

  She went to greet Tan as she parked. She was most of the way to the car when realized there was someone in the passenger seat. Someone with yellow hair.

  She was so rapt in making absolutely sure that it was Eve before she let the little imp inside her yodel for joy that she didn’t see Tonk coming. Next thing she knew she’d been tackled to the ground and promptly licked all over. Eve was standing over her laughing.

  “He’s not supposed to jump on people,” Ani protested. She hoped her high color could be put down to the doggy attack.

  “You’re not people. You’re part of the pack.”

  “I’m the Alpha dog.”

  She thought Eve muttered, “In your own mind, maybe,” but she wasn’t sure.

  Ani cuffed Tonk fondly, then managed to get up. She could forgive it, especially since yesterday she’d rolled around with Tonk during their reunion. She sought something brilliant to say, but could only come up with a lame, “You changed your mind.”

  “Yes.” Then Eve blushed.

  Ani could not ever remember making Eve blush before. It had always been the other way around.

  Tan had said something to Lisa, who had of course laughed, then she made a few trips from her car to the helicopter. On the last trip she said to Ani, “I swapped out the three-man tent for two two-mans. Warmest arrangement for the least weight.”

  “Okay,” Ani said vaguely. Eve was outfitted properly in a light blue snowsuit, so Tan had obviously stopped at the depot. A pack ideal for carrying about thirty pounds and suited to Eve’s height joined the others. “Do we have enough rations?”

  “Yes, including for Tonk. Eve’s got the bulk of that, water bowl, plus tarps, but we might need to redistribute.”

  Ani nodded absently. Eve kept looking at her. She felt positively goofy. The feeling continued as they got their safety briefing from Meg, fixed Tonk with a flight harness, and buckled into their seats along the two rows of benches in the middle of the cargo area. Ani hadn’t consciously chosen to sit opposite Eve. All she knew was that after she buckled up she’d looked up to see Eve gazing at her, and the look could have ignited the air.

  The lurch in the pit of her stomach as the copter skids left the ground was remarkably similar to how that look from Eve made her feel.

  She wasn’t so oblivious that she didn’t notice Lisa and Tan playing footsie. Lisa, in spite of warnings, hadn’t zipped her snowsuit jacket all the way, and darned if she hadn’t found a way to show cleavage. Tan, even through sun goggles, looked dazzled. All Lisa wanted from life, she had said, was to be on someone’s pedestal. To Ani, it looked like Lisa was there. For at least the next week.

  It didn’t pay to think any farther into the future than their landing. She was the trek leader, the one with the experience. They were all relying on her to keep them safe. She was glad of Tonk—dogs had unca
nny instincts on the ice, and Tonk’s breeding was sound. He would shy away from thin ice over crevasses and give warnings in the remote chance of wildlife. Her job was to make sure everyone was weatherproof, that each person was keeping up with their pack load, and that they followed her path. Focus, she told herself, and stop looking at the woman you love.

  Yeah, that was a good way to focus.

  Fortunately, as they rose over the Naomi and turned north toward Denali, the vista of white ice floes and granite peaks was so searingly beautiful that it competed with the sight of Eve seated across from her. To have both Alaska and Eve filled Ani with a profound sense of joy, that the world was good, and life all it could be. A glance revealed that Eve was equally rapt—nothing in the world compared with the rolling white sheets riven with perfect blue streaks of bent light. She remembered Eve asking her if the glory of it made her feel small, and the answer was still no. She felt awed. She felt a part of the breathing planet the way she felt part of Eve when they were in each other’s arms.

  As the crow flies, it was a short hop to Kilkat Plateau. Meg lazily swooped down to the northern end where a bold red circle marked this season’s helipad zone. A couple of cross-gusts while they were still about fifty feet above the ice weren’t surprising, but Ani saw the other three women all tense. The wind died as the skids lightly touched the surface. When Lisa made to unbuckle, Ani waved at her to stop. Meg wasn’t about to put tons of machinery on any ice surface without first testing it.

  They hovered for a few seconds, then slowly settled. If there was any change to their pitch on the ice, Meg would pull them back up. But the ground underneath them stayed solid and Meg finally cut the blade speed to a quarter.

  Ani again signaled for the others to stay put. She released herself and then set Tonk free. He gave her a somewhat suspicious look, but liked what he saw and smelled from the loading bay door she opened for him. Might as well let the dog do what he was bred to do. She watched him check out the skids, which of course needed to be marked, then sweep out in a widening circle near the door area. He didn’t seem alarmed by anything, so Ani deemed it safe to unload.