Warming Trend

by Karin Kallmaker

  Ani could tell the pale orb of Eve’s face from the surrounding sleeping bag. She touched her gently with her fingers, then cupped her cheeks. It was the simplest of caresses, but it filled her with a bright, clear joy. To her wonder, Eve turned her head and kissed Ani’s palm.

  “Eve…I don’t know how we went wrong, when everything was so right.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Ani’s hand stilled. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Hell, Ani, I don’t want to talk. Kiss me.”

  Ani didn’t even try to hide her gasp. Eve had always been able to punch the breath out of her. She moved toward her and their lips met, tender and soft.

  They broke apart when Eve reflexively tried to move her arms, trapped in the sleeping bag, and their noses bumped.

  With a giggle, Eve said, “I told Lisa she and Tan might get stuck together if they smooched in the tent.”

  Ani was glad to release some of her tension with a laugh. “With the heat they’d generate?”

  Eve finally got her zipper down low enough to free her arms. “What do they know about heat?”

  She pulled Ani to her, nothing tender or soft about this kiss. Ani finally trusted that Eve was as hungry as she was. She fumbled with both their zippers, and arms wound around waists. Eve breathed out Ani’s name—she loved that sound. Ani didn’t think they were slipping back in time. This wasn’t for old-time’s sake, but a new beginning, the first of a lifetime of kisses.

  Her fingers felt seared by the heat of Eve’s back when she slipped her hand under her thermal shirt. Skin—she had missed Eve’s skin. Their kisses grew more feverish as they arched together. Ani moaned when Eve trailed kisses down her throat, finally nuzzling in the notch of her collarbone.

  Ani found Eve’s breast and squeezed possessively, drawing a shocked, responsive gasp. Ani had not forgotten, even if the woman in her arms was still sometimes a stranger.

  “Please,” Eve whispered. “I want to be yours again.”

  If Ani had any instinct at all for love, this was not the time to hide herself. “I haven’t known where I am ever since I left. Getting lost in you seems the only way to find myself again.”

  “Touch me.”

  “Are you sure? Your arms are getting cold. Your hand—”

  Eve’s kiss left no doubt, and she pushed Ani’s hand from her breast, downward. “Please.”

  Ani pulled them as close together as possible, trying to preserve their body heat, trying to be sensible while her body was rolling and pulsing like the northern lights. “I won’t leave you again, Eve. I will tend bar if I have to, to stay here and live with you. Work the tourist guide trade, anything. But I’m not leaving. You’re the only place that matters.”

  It was the loving laugh that undid her. “Ani, stop talking.”

  There were no more words after that. She pushed her hand under Eve’s clothes, shivered when her fingertips swam into the slick sweetness she remembered. She knew what Eve liked, how to please her, how to increase the ache. Then, how to end it. She loved touching Eve. Her response was eager, and Ani felt a kind of powerful pleasure that nothing else in life ever gave her.

  She loved Alaska, she loved the cold beauty of the northern lights and she loved her father’s legacy. None of them equaled Eve.

  She pulled Eve against her, one arm holding her close and tight as she glided easily inside her. On a bed, in a warm room, she would be deeper, gentler, she would be everything. But right now there was the urgency and their need. She trapped Eve’s cry in a kiss, felt Eve swell under her, and didn’t care that she covered Eve’s face with tears.

  * * *

  Nothing makes you feel as old as sleeping on the ground does. That was Eve’s first thought when she woke. Her hips were sore, her shoulders ached and her hand was stiff. Somehow, though, she didn’t feel nearly as bad as she thought she might.

  She opened her eyes and everything from the night flooded back. She was Ani’s again, and had been stretched to the stars and back. Ani’s face was only inches from hers, visible in what Eve took to be pre-dawn light. Her expression was easy in sleep. Her nose was adorably pinked by cold.

  Had Ani really said those words? That she wouldn’t ever leave? Made promises in the night she hadn’t ever made before? It would never be as if those three years hadn’t been lost. But Eve knew, if they tried, they could make it so the lost years didn’t matter.

  It was probably nearly four a.m., and looking at Ani was the best wake-up Eve could have hoped for. She smiled to herself as she slowly lowered the zipper on her sleeping bag. She could make Ani’s wake up pleasant, oh yes she could.

  Her hands free of the sleeping bag, she held them against her lips and nose to take away some of the chill. Then, leaning forward those few inches, she nibbled at Ani’s lower lip. Ani wrinkled her nose, as if trying to figure out what was tickling her.

  Another nibble and she felt Ani take a deeper breath. Her body uncoiled and Eve rolled toward her. She couldn’t stop smiling this morning, and Ani’s sleepy greeting only deepened her joy.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Eve kissed her more soundly. “Don’t open your eyes. Let me take care of everything.”

  Ani sighed against her. “You are better than any alarm clock.”

  The zipper on Ani’s bag eased down. “I should hope so.”

  “Oh. I thought you were going to take care of starting hot water.”

  Eve paused with her hand on Ani’s waist. “I was going to get something hot. But if you’re not…”

  Ani tangled their fingers, then moved Eve’s hand downward. “Time for chores later.”

  “Damn right. You are not a chore.” Eve feathered a kiss across Ani’s mouth. “I love doing this. You have always been…very relaxed in the morning.”

  Ani’s low laugh of agreement was cut short by a groan. “No teasing.”

  “Teasing later. Right now, just this.” Eve nuzzled at Ani’s ear lobe. Her fingers toyed with the damp curls, parted them and found the well-remembered places. Her mouth watered and she swallowed convulsively—that thirst would have to wait. Right now Ani’s breathing had gone ragged, and right now, this was what her love wanted, this circling, magic dance only women knew, and one Eve wanted to share with Ani for all the years they could have.

  Ani arched and Eve held tight to her body, loving the stretch of muscles, the tautness of Ani’s ribs, even the difference in their height that let her bury her face in Ani’s shirt while her fingers circled, swirled, teased, then pressed inward until Ani’s shudders slowed, then stopped.

  They were still for several minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms. Eve was aware of the rising light, then the sunlight touched the edge of the tent, illuminating them both. Daybreak.

  Ani smiled at her, eyes bright with emotion. “This is the best morning ever.”

  Eve was about to agree when a drop of very cold water landed on her forehead. She looked up—yep, the frozen condensate on the roof of the tent was melting as the sun moved over it. “We have to get up, don’t we?”

  “Only if we want to stay dry.”

  “I’m not dry.”

  Ani’s smile was wicked. “Would you like me to confirm that?”

  “Later. Let’s do what we came to do.”

  Ani gathered her up. “You mean you didn’t come to do me?”

  Eve giggled. “There are so many juvenile responses I could make to that.”

  “I feel so good.”

  Seriously, Eve said, “I’m glad.”

  A drop landed on Ani’s eyebrow. “Okay.” Ani unzipped her bag and in less time than Eve would have thought possible, pulled on her snowsuit, zipped it, and got into her gloves. She rolled over onto her sleeping bag, zipped it as well, and, with a practiced motion, rolled it into a tight coil, all without touching the increasingly sodden tent roof.

  It was impressive. Eve knew she was grinning. So she was besotted—it felt wonderful.

  Ani opened the tent flap, then tur
ned back. “I am so sorry I ran away.”

  Eve raised herself on her elbows. “Let’s agree to one thing, okay? Today we put the past behind us. That’s the last time you say you’re sorry. I’m sorry, too—and that’s the last time for me. It’s a new day. Our new day.”

  Ani blew her a kiss. Besotted, Eve mused, and yeah, it was wonderful.

  Chapter 13

  With the bright seven a.m. sunlight illuminating their digging site, there was clearly an object under the ice. They’d been close the night before.

  A few picks with their axes, and Ani cracked the last sheet over a scientist’s kit. She knew it was Monica’s. There were also a few loose objects, one of which appeared to be Monica’s radio.

  She paused a moment, remembering Kenbrink’s body, and the desolation she’d felt at the loss of his research, and thinking it had been her fault. She still had some responsibility—she’d thought it was the real notebook when she’d so foolishly tossed it out that window. That had been wrong, and she thought she’d paid the price for it. But she hoped the real notebook was inside the kit. It meant Monica was a liar, and had discarded Ani and Ani’s dreams for her own convenience. But it also meant the data was there to be mined, and maybe it would help someone.

  “Ani,” Tan said. “Let me. Let me inventory what’s inside. Eve, take some pictures.”

  “Oh, of course. Duh!” Eve moved in to snap the kit, still locked in the ice, then another of Tan freeing it. Her camera continued to click while Ani stood to one side, wanting to pull the kit out of the ice, but understanding that Tan was the only one of them with an official tie to GlacierPoint.

  Tan opened the Velcro closure, then unrolled the waterproof seal to get to the zipper. Whatever was inside, Monica had taken no chances. The zipper finally parted, Tan opened it and sighed.

  “Well, one very frozen energy bar, spare gloves and this.”

  It had a bright blue cover, and Kenbrink was printed in block letters across the front. Ani let out the breath she’d been holding, maybe for as long as three years.

  “The nerve,” Lisa muttered.

  Tan undid the fasteners and tilted the notebook toward Eve’s camera. “Well, the pages aren’t blank.” She fanned through it, reaching almost three-quarters before she encountered the first empty page.

  Ani shook her head slightly, trying to clear her swimming eyes. “I didn’t think I’d feel so sad.”

  “Feet of clay where we saw only the heroine of our cause.”

  Tan was right. She didn’t want to believe it because of what Professor Monica Tyndell was trying to do for the world. Tonk leaned hard against her legs and she leaned back, glad for the warmth and the support. She was sad, very sad, to discover her idol was a human being, and not a very good one at that. She seemed to care more for people collectively than as individuals. “Is there any way this is innocent?”

  “No,” Lisa said emphatically. “If there was an innocent explanation she would have given it to all of you the moment she told you about the accident. If the guy gave it to her for safety before he died, or she took it for that reason, she would have said. But her guilty act caused her to act guilty, and then she covered her tracks with your body, Ani.”

  Eve, her camera at rest, said, “I think she’s right, Ani. I’m really very sorry. I see no reason to go on giving her any benefit of any doubt.”

  Ani realized she was angry, too. Her dad had had a saying, Don’t get mad, get even. But she didn’t want to get even. She wanted back what had been taken. There was nothing Monica could give up that would replace it, so what did she really want that she could have that fixed the past? Wasn’t fixing the future far more important? “I don’t quite know what to do with it next.”

  Tan, rising to her feet, said, “That’s not your decision. I’m going to return the notebook to the rightful owner—that would be Kenbrink’s research partner. But not before we let Monica know that we know.”

  Ani turned away from the scene—she never wanted to see it again. Someone dead, and more than just her dreams stolen.

  They were mostly quiet as they went back to the camp. The tents were turned inside out to dry in the sun, their backpacks were mostly refilled, and the last pot of hot water had been wrapped in a sleeping bag in the hope that it might still be warm.

  Tan judged it not quite warm enough, quickly lit the burner and in a few minutes they were enjoying another round of instant coffee. Eve, smiling, produced one last bag of treats—five large snickerdoodles.

  Ani hoped she sounded more civilized than Tonk as she devoured hers.

  “I ought to be putting on the pounds eating this way,” Lisa said, “but this has been hard work. Fun—but hard.”

  Tan gave her a sidelong look and they both bloomed into vivid red.

  Eve laughed. “You two look so guilty.”

  “All I’m saying…” Lisa paused to lick her fingers free of sugar and cinnamon. “All I’m saying is that you were wrong about getting stuck together.”

  Tan, blushing but looking very smug, added, “And all I’m saying is that I think we were quieter than you two were.”

  Ani was blushing and she didn’t care. “Hey—we weren’t listening. We were focused.”

  Eve held up her hands. “This topic ends now.”

  Ani agreed. Even among friends there were things that were still private. “I think I should radio Meg and let her know we’ll be ready for pick up earlier than we planned.” Ani rinsed out her mug with some slush off the top of the ice, added it to the collection nesting in the cook pot, and they set about getting the gear fully stowed. One by one they got into their packs, cinched, tightened and fell into step.

  Ani shook off her sadness—and some of the anger. She still didn’t know what she wanted from Monica, but she had what she truly valued, and that took the edge off her desire for retribution.

  “Hey you,” Eve called. “Do we have to walk single file?”

  Ani glanced over her shoulder as she held out her hand. “No. Side-by-side will be just fine.”

  * * *

  “Tan, what can I do for you?”

  Tan moved into Monica’s office, and Ani followed her.

  Monica’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Ani? What brings you here, of all places?”

  Tan shut the door and Ani watched all the color drain out of Monica’s face. She knows, Ani thought. She couldn’t get out of her symposium to keep track of Ani’s contact with others, had tried to get Ani to leave with that offer of a job, even tried to hustle Eve out of town. Lisa had wanted to organize tar and feathers, but Eve had agreed whatever Ani and Tan decided she would certainly accept.

  Looking brisk and efficient in one of her no-nonsense suits, Tan unwrapped Monica’s kit from a shopping bag and set it on her desk. “This is yours.”

  Ani watched Monica’s gaze dart from Tan, to her, to the kit, as if she hoped they really hadn’t opened it.

  “This is not yours.” Tan took out a large Ziploc, with the bright blue cover facing Monica. She handed the plastic bag to Ani to hold. She withdrew the last item from the bag, a file folder. Opening it, she set it in front of Monica. “These are the three letters you’re going to sign.”

  Monica licked her lips and two bright spots of furious color dotted her still pale cheeks. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Blackmail is immoral.” Tan took a pen from the breast pocket of her jacket. She set it alongside the folder and added, “I don’t want to debate morals with you right now.”

  Monica didn’t want to look down at the letters, it was plain. Ani could see the wheels within wheels turning as she tried to find a way out of the situation.

  Slowly, she said, “Ani, you were always special to me, and I’m sorry you took matters into your own hands.”

  “I was just being a good student,” Ani said. “Read the letters.”

  Monica rose from behind her desk, her royal blue polo showing off the white slacks. She was unflappably elegant and Ani understood some of Lisa’
s bitter desire to see her, just once, out of her league. Ani took a reflexive step backward.

  Monica didn’t get too close, but she was closer than she needed to be. All at once Ani could smell her perfume, and she flinched when Monica reached over to brush hair away from Ani’s eyes. “I had such plans for you.”

  There it was. How could she have not seen it before? Monica wanted to confuse her. Lisa was right. With a clear voice, she said, “That doesn’t work on me. Read the letters.”

  When a sad shake of the head, Monica turned to Tan. “I’m not sure what the administrative department head thinks her jurisdiction is here, but you are out of bounds.”

  “I don’t think so.” Tan waved a hand at the letters. “The first letter is to the provost at Toronto University, returning this notebook and explaining that during a thorough inventory, it had turned up in an abandoned kit. You offer the sincere apologies of the university for jumping to the conclusion that the notebook found earlier was the missing one, and stopping the search.”

  Monica’s jaw hardened. Ani knew this version of the woman, too. This woman was the one who fought for grant money, for schedules and space in journals for global warming topics. The world was finally listening, and partly because Monica could be so soft and hide so much steel. Destroying her didn’t get Ani back what she had lost.

  “That’s all very convenient. It doesn’t change the fact that Anidyr Bycall destroyed a notebook she knew didn’t belong to her.”

  “Very true. Ani has paid for her transgression with three years of academic suspension.” Tan gestured at the folder. “Read the other two letters. Or I will take them to the dean, and he’ll read them. And hear the whole story, see photographs of where we found the notebook, and have access to two more witnesses about when and where we found it. And since these letters solve everyone’s problems, he’ll order you to sign them, or be publicly censured and humiliated. Much the same way Ani was.”