“Are you crazy?” Susannah had said at the mere suggestion, however timidly Kathleen hinted at it. “All of those things are public record! My family could see.”
For years, Kathleen had been hurt by that. It was a constant source of tension that there was no sense of legality or permanence to their relationship.
Thank God, she thought now as she plunked down in the comfy chair. After their last fight, after Susannah left to spend the weekend with her family, all she’d had to do was to pack up her books, her computers, her clothes… Precious little to show for over twelve years living with someone, but the upside was no divorce, no attorneys, no mess.
She tried to read, angling her book toward the window, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the story. Her thoughts kept drifting to Molly, wondering what she was doing out in this storm, hoping she was safe.
How did this happen? She closed her eyes. You promised yourself you would never be weak enough to let yourself need someone ever again.
Only… it didn’t feel weak. It felt good. It had been so long, so very long since she’d felt this way, and back then, it had only been for bits of time—until the next time Susannah got angry and told her to leave, or the next time the Moores went off on why Kathleen was always around, and the heartache that always followed when Susannah didn’t defend her.
A little something stirred in Kathleen’s chest, sniffing hopefully. If Molly’s family knew about them and was okay, if this turned into something real and not just a passing fancy, if… Kathleen was afraid to let herself ride that train of thought.
She went back into the kitchen and began to make a loaf of soda bread. Molly hadn’t said she’d be back tonight, and Kathleen honestly wasn’t sure even the Toyota’s four-wheel-drive could handle this much snow, but she wanted to have a hot meal ready for her, just in case.
The wake last night had been nice, despite Kathleen’s misgivings. She couldn’t recall ever being at such a joyous celebration. She’d brought one of the old photos of Olivia with Louisa and her Nanna, an image of them when they were girls, wearing their old-fashioned swimsuits down on the little beach. That had brought laughter from everyone who looked at it.
At one point, she had stood off to herself, marveling at how, from such sadness, could come so much laughter and companionship. What would my wake be like? she wondered.
That had been a sobering thought. What could people possibly bring to her wake that would make them laugh or smile, or even remember her fondly?
Kathleen kneaded the dough, shaping it into a round, and then scored it deeply into quarters before placing the baking sheet in the oven.
She went around the cottage, lighting the oil lamps. Molly had told her the island’s little electric generating plant was already running at near capacity with the increased hours of darkness and the demand for heat and light, even before the extra strain of the storm. Every little bit the islanders could do to lessen the drain on the system helped.
It was difficult to imagine the people she’d known in Philly voluntarily cutting their consumption of electricity or water or gasoline or anything else. The prevailing attitude was “if I can afford it, I should be able to use it.” She was ashamed to admit how many times she’d thought the same thing during summer heat waves, with her AC cranked. She’d never lived among people who thought communally, who thought of one another as much as about themselves.
She went out to the front porch, her breath puffing out in frosty clouds in the cold air.
A twin beam of headlights cut through the murky twilight.
Her heart leapt as Molly climbed out of the Toyota and trudged through knee-deep snow, stomping her boots on the steps. Even bundled up in a knit cap and heavy down jacket, she was such a wonderful sight.
Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around Kathleen, dropping her head wearily onto her shoulder.
“You’ve been out in this all day?” Kathleen asked.
Molly nodded without speaking.
Kathleen held her for a moment. “I’ve got Guinness stew almost ready and soda bread baking.”
Molly picked her head up. “Really?”
Kathleen chuckled and took her by the hand. “Come on in and get warm.”
She had a pair of thick wool socks waiting as Molly sat to take her snowy boots off.
“This place looked like a fairy tale cottage from outside,” Molly said. “The snow coming down, the lamplight shining through the windows.”
She stood and sniffed. “It smells so good. I’m starving.”
“Come into the kitchen.” Kathleen led the way. “Want some hot tea or coffee?”
“I don’t suppose you have another Guinness that isn’t in the stew?”
Kathleen smiled and opened the refrigerator. She reached for two bottles of beer and disappeared into the pantry where a bottle opener was mounted to the wall. “Do you need to let your mom know where you are? Will she worry?”
Molly accepted one bottle and took a long drink. “I told her this morning I probably wouldn’t be home.”
Kathleen felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks.
“What?”
“I’m not used to…” Kathleen turned to lean her backside against the counter, one finger picking at the corner of the label on her bottle. “Your dad coming here to find you, Rebecca talking about you and me, your mom knowing you’re going to be here. It’s just weird.”
Molly came to her and kissed her gently. “Small island. No secrets here. Does it bother you?”
Kathleen looked into those fascinating eyes, seeing her own reflection among the flecks of green and blue. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”
Molly moved closer. “Good.” She kissed her again, not so gently this time.
Kathleen felt her body respond as Molly pressed her against the counter.
“How long before the stew and bread are done?” Molly whispered when they came up for air.
Kathleen glanced at the timer on the oven. “Twenty minutes. More or less.”
Molly grinned. “That’s more than enough time. More or less.”
She grabbed Kathleen by the hand and led her upstairs.
Chapter 13
THE ROOM WAS DARK when Molly woke. She peered at the bedside clock. The bedroom still smelled faintly of fresh paint. Stretching, she savored the extra room in this bed. She kissed Kathleen’s shoulder, but she only turned over, burrowing further under the covers. Molly reluctantly crawled out of the warmth. Blossom watched her from his bed as she dressed quietly in the dark. Together, they crept down the stairs where she let him out and put the coffee on, knowing that aroma would wake Kathleen. She scooped some food for Blossom.
“Be good,” she whispered when he came back in. “If she doesn’t get up soon, go jump on her.”
She put on her boots and jacket, and let herself out the front door. Everything was quiet as she drove. A couple of rabbits darted across the road, but nothing else moved.
The lights from the kitchen cast a soft glow onto the snow when she pulled into the drive behind her dad’s truck. She needed some tools and supplies for the install she was doing of Nels’s new solar panels for his greenhouse. The snow would complicate things, but he wanted to get the greenhouse cranking as soon as possible.
Though the sun wasn’t yet up, the snow reflected enough light to show her the shoveled path to the back door. She scuffed her boots on the doormat and came into the kitchen.
“Morning,” she said, kicking her boots off.
Jenny looked up from the stove where she was flipping pancakes. “Morning, Mo. How are things at Kathleen’s?”
“We got Maisie’s room painted and new curtains hung. I helped her get Bryan’s old room set up as her office.”
“That was a nice Christmas gift. To help her with those things.”
“It’ll make the cottage feel like home for her, I hope.” Molly poured herself a cup of coffee and topped off her mother’s cup.
She leaned against the counter and took a si
p. “Is this weird for you?”
Jenny glanced over. “A little, if I’m being honest.” She waved her spatula. “Don’t get me wrong. We want all of you to have your own lives.”
Molly grinned. “You mean, you and Dad want us out of your hair.”
Jenny nodded noncommittally. “We’ve thought about changing the locks on the doors, but you’d just pick them.” She sighed as Molly laughed. “Even though we want you to live your own lives, now that you’re half-living at Kathleen’s these days, you’re the first to do it. It’s going to take some getting used to.”
Jenny slid the plate of pancakes into the oven to keep them warm and poured batter on the griddle for a new batch.
Molly planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Well, don’t get too used to it. No telling how long this will last.”
She headed toward the living room and the stairs.
“But you’re happy, Mo?”
She turned to look back at her mom. “Yeah. I’m happy.”
Molly paused in the living room and went to the fireplace where Kathleen’s painting held pride of place. There, so small Molly hadn’t noticed it at first, she had painted a tiny scull on the ocean, the sun reflecting off the oars. She smiled and took the steps two at a time, nearly colliding with Aidan.
He grinned. “No need to ask how you are.”
Molly punched him in the arm. “Nope.”
“What do you think about next week? For Miss Olivia? The weather should be calm.”
She nodded soberly. “Next week. I’ll make the arrangements and tell Miss Louisa.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I can tell her, if you want.”
Molly didn’t know what to say. “Uh… that would be great. Thanks.”
“Okay.” He started down the stairs. “Don’t be too long. I’m not leaving any pancakes for you.”
Molly stared after him. “Okay,” she murmured, heading into her room to change her clothes.
KATHLEEN RAN HER HANDS over the timeworn smoothness of the wooden desk. She remembered spending hours at this desk as a child, drawing and writing stories.
By shuffling furniture around, she’d been able to set up a useable workspace in Bryan’s old room. She’d hesitated about using it, but it got better light than her old room. Molly had drilled holes from the attic to run the cables for her satellite connections—something she would never have attempted on her own.
She saved the current manuscript she was editing. She’d been at it for over four hours and felt she was going cross-eyed.
Just as she was getting ready to turn off her computer, an email came through. She saw from the little bubble that it was from Susannah. She hesitated a few seconds before opening it. To her surprise, it was a nice message—saying she hoped Kathleen had had a good Christmas and that maybe this new year would see them start over.
Part of her wanted to believe she and Susannah could stay friends. Fourteen years—the two tumultuous ones in college and then twelve living together—“Who are you kidding?” she asked aloud. “They were all tumultuous.”
Still, if there was a way to remain friends, maybe things could be different between them. She took a moment to type a cordial reply and hit Send.
Pushing away from the desk, she went down the hall to Nanna—“no, it’s our room now,” she said firmly to Blossom as he followed her.
She stopped, startled by that thought. Our room. That had never been the case before. At Susannah’s insistence, they had always kept separate rooms for the sake of appearances. Their apartment had to look at all times as if they were nothing more than roommates. It felt a bit daring to openly create a space to share with Molly.
She loved this room. The newly painted walls were beautiful—depending on the light, sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes a kind of gray-sage.
Like Molly’s eyes. She smiled as she realized why the color had appealed so strongly.
She smoothed the new comforter on Nanna’s old bed—the bed they’d made love in almost every night for the past week. And it was lovemaking like she’d never experienced. Molly took her time, exploring, tasting, touching her in places she never knew could be so sensitive. Nothing was hurried or furtive. Slowly, Kathleen was learning to relax and open herself as she hadn’t ever before.
The wonder of Molly’s body in return was something Kathleen thought she would never tire of—lean muscles, smooth stomach, long legs that wrapped around her when she stretched out on top of Molly, luxuriating in their nakedness. Nights spent snuggled up together with their legs tangled. Just the thought of making love with Molly had Kathleen’s body responding in ways that made her blush.
Molly hadn’t officially moved in. Neither of them was ready for that, but Kathleen had set aside two of the four drawers in the dresser for Molly to bring some clothes over. The drawers were still empty, but…
Come spring, she planned to order a new bed and mattress. Her back ached a bit sleeping in this one, as it was saggy in places, but the extra room was nice.
She went downstairs to the kitchen to begin baking an apple pie. Molly and Aidan had left early that morning to take Olivia’s body to the mainland. A group of people were gathering at the diner tonight for dinner to await their return. Wilma and Nels had insisted Miss Louisa stay with them at the hotel for the past couple of weeks, but she knew Molly had taken her by her house to check on things.
“It’ll be tough on her to live there alone,” Molly had told Kathleen. “That house was a lot for the two of them to keep up with, but now…”
While the pie was baking, Kathleen went upstairs to change the linens on her old bed, the one she’d been using since coming back to Little Sister. It might be a bit awkward to have Miss Louisa down the hall from her and Molly, but she intended to offer and wanted to have the room ready for her.
A couple of months ago, she realized, she would never have considered inviting someone else into her space. She had barely tolerated Louisa and Olivia coming by to bring her dinner or help her clean the cottage. Now she had Molly and maybe Louisa staying with her.
It was strange. She felt more complete, bigger somehow, as part of this community of people than she had trying to stand defiantly alone.
When the oven timer went off, she let the pie cool for a few minutes and then packed it up in a basket padded with towels. She and Blossom drove into town, where there were already several people inside the diner.
“Are Molly and Aidan back?” she asked Jenny as she set her basket on the counter.
“They radioed. They’re about a half-hour out.”
Kathleen helped Wilma set out stacks of plates and silverware, keeping one eye on the door. She spun at the tinkling of the bell, but it was just Joe, coming in with Matty and Joey. Siobhan arrived, and a few minutes later, Miranda and Tim came in with little Ellis.
She was setting out water glasses when the bell rang again. She turned around, and her heart quickened at the sight of Molly with Aidan. They both looked exhausted.
Everyone grew quiet. Louisa stood with her hand resting on her father’s box of ashes.
“She’s at the crematorium now,” Aidan said. “The undertaker met us at the dock, and we followed to make sure everything was taken care of as you wanted. They’ll call us when she’s ready to be brought home.”
Louisa’s chin quivered, but she just said, “Thank you.”
Molly went to her and gave her a long hug. Over Louisa’s shoulder, Molly sent Kathleen a look that spoke of such sorrow that Kathleen longed to take her somewhere where she could just hold her.
“Let’s get some hot food into these kids,” Wilma said gently, guiding Louisa to a seat where several tables had been scooted together to make one long table.
Everyone filled plates and gathered. The conversation, Kathleen noted, carefully steered clear of Aidan and Molly’s mission that day.
Nels brought a huge basket of rolls, walking down the tables from person to person to plop the fragrant bread on their plat
es.
“I tried a new recipe today,” he announced. “Let me know what you think.”
“Nels, Wilma,” Louisa said. “I thank you for your hospitality, but tomorrow, I am going home.”
Silence fell immediately.
“Louisa,” Wilma began, but Aidan leaned forward.
“Miss Louisa, I have been meaning to talk to you about renting me a room.”
Kathleen’s eyes darted from Aidan to Louisa to Jenny to Molly and back to Aidan.
“What the—?” Matty started, but Joe elbowed him sharply.
“Renting a room?” Louisa asked.
“Yes. I’ll be forty years old this year, and I think it’s time I moved out of my parents’ house. There aren’t a lot of opportunities to get an apartment or place of my own on Little Sister, so I wanted to ask if you would rent me a room.”
Louisa’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “Well, Aidan…” She looked to Joe and Jenny.
Joe held up both hands. “Don’t ask us. This is between you and Aidan.”
“I can pay you a fair rent,” Aidan said. “And to help out a little more, I can take care of some of the chores around your place. It’s completely up to you.”
Louisa blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, it was in her teacher voice. “Aidan Ahearn Cooper, you’d just better put the toilet seat down.”
Aidan grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, MOLLY lay in Kathleen’s arms.
“Was it hard?” Kathleen murmured.
Molly nodded against her neck. “My uncle took Mr. Woodhouse on the ferry when he died. This is the first time I’ve done it. We’ve had other burials, like your grandmother’s, here on the island. It’s never easy to lose someone you’ve spent your whole life with.”
When the Stars Sang Page 19