The Right Thing Easy

by Laina Villeneuve

  “How do you feel now, Hope?” I asked. I won’t lie—it kind of freaked me out to hear her say dating a woman got to feeling wrong. Was I a fool to think a person could move beyond that?

  “Scared.”

  I turned her face toward mine and cupped it with both hands. “Just because we’re both gay and live in the same town doesn’t mean that we have to go out.” I said this as my body screamed at me to shut up, that going out with Hope was exactly what it wanted.

  She looked like I’d hurt her and started to pull away. “But when we were dancing, I thought…”

  “I like you, Hope. A lot.”

  “But I’m a tangled mess.”

  “You said it, not me,” I said, stroking her hair. I pressed my forehead to hers wondering the sanity of being attracted to someone so obviously conflicted. “You know what, though? We don’t have to figure it out tonight.” Not wanting to, but knowing I should, I drew back slowly. “Let me drive you home.”

  “I can drive.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can barely open your eyes. You’re not driving anywhere. Let me get you home. I’m here for the long haul, and we can figure this out little by little. I’m good at groundwork.”

  We’d said enough for the night, met our word maximum, so we bundled up and drove into town in silence. She directed me to her house, which looked like all the others covered in snow. “I’m sorry,” she said as I delivered her to the door.

  “I like it better when our nights end with a thank-you,” I ventured.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Hands tucked in my pockets, I made sure that she was safe inside before returning to my warm car. I sat there longer still, waiting for the porch light to go out before I drove off in the soft silence of the snowy night, not another car in sight, cautious of the road ahead of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hope fingered the note in her pocket, not needing to pull it out to recall the words Dani had written and tucked inside the book she had dropped off at Cup of Joy. Hope only remembered it when she had found it on her desk in her office the day after Dani had driven her home. She had yet to kick the migraine that had forced her to accept Dani’s kindness. It had made her even more grateful for the quiet she found in the library for her volunteer work.

  Gathering up the books to reshelve and pointing to her head, she dodged the question in Pauline’s quirked eyebrow. It wasn’t unheard of for Hope’s headaches to linger for days, so she crossed her fingers Pauline would leave her to the one task that felt soothing to her brain. When she’d finished with her cart, she sat at one of the window reading areas just for a moment. She had been carrying the note in her back pocket since she’d found it and pulled it out to finger the dark, bold print.

  Hope—Does this mean I can ask you out on a date? I’d call, but in all these months, I’ve never gotten your number. Here’s mine. You call, I’ll ask. –D

  In the corner was an imprint of a rider guiding a horse around a barrel.

  She had called, and they’d talked for hours, way past Hope’s normal bedtime, and even after they’d hung up, Hope lay in bed holding the phone on her chest, thinking about the woman across town. Resting her temple against her wrist, she smiled remembering how many times they had tried to hang up, how many times she had thought she should simply get in the car and drive to Dani’s. But she hadn’t, and Dani hadn’t suggested it. She sensed that Dani knew Hope felt more comfortable talking on the phone. It felt more careful. It felt formal, like they were easing into a courtship. The side of her mouth ticked up. She’d never been courted before.

  Pauline’s voice snapped her back to the library. “Are you okay back here?”

  Hope quickly tucked Dani’s note away, aware that Pauline had noticed. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  Hope didn’t know how to respond to Pauline and blamed it on the low roar in her head that had become her norm.

  “I’m taking a break, and you’re talking.” Pauline led the way to the break room, and Hope followed. Plugging in the kettle for tea, Pauline put her hands on her hips and frowned. “How long have you been fighting this one?”

  “I don’t know. Three, four days now.”

  Pauline sighed weightily. “I’d say a good jolt of caffeine is what you need, but…”

  “Okay.” Hope said, making Pauline whip around.

  “Okay? Since when do you say ‘okay’?”

  “I’m not Mormon, so I might as well try it,” Hope said, voicing the phrase she had thought true for many years but never had the courage to speak.

  Pauline sat without pouring the tea, so Hope went to the cupboard and pulled out two of Pauline’s English Breakfast teabags, pouring the water over them into the cups. She turned to face Pauline, mimicking the pose Pauline had held a moment before.

  “Put a load of sugar and milk in it,” Pauline said.

  “For me or you?”

  “Both.”

  Hope’s heart pounded as she waited for Pauline to talk, but she kept her mouth uncharacteristically shut as Hope followed her orders with the tea. Once she finished, they both sat stirring their tea, Pauline’s eyes on Hope, Hope’s on her drink. “You said yourself that I only go out of guilt and obligation.”

  “Sure, but I didn’t think you ever heard any of it. Are you going to tell your dad?”

  “Before Christmas. The whole family will be home. It’s the best time. It’s a terrible time, but at least I’ll only have to say it once.”

  “Wow. Are you going to tell them you’re gay too, or just not Mormon?” Hope stared at Pauline staring at her, the picture of serenity as she sipped her tea, waiting for Hope to answer.

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Pshaw. You never had to say. I’m just relieved I don’t have to keep it secret from you anymore.”

  Hope blinked at her. “I never said…”

  Pauline ticked off her evidence on her fingers. “You had that high school crush on Kristine, never talked about dating anyone in college, and everyone dates at least one person in college, and you’ve had your eye on the professor since the first day she stepped into the library. Don’t blame you there, as you know. Yummy. Even Burley wondered what was going on after the two of you danced last weekend. Whew!” She fanned herself. “Almost forgot to thank you for that little display. We sure had fun that night.”

  Hope laid her head on the table. “I wish you didn’t tell me these things.”

  “Someone’s got to, sweetie.” Pauline reached across the table and held her hand. “It’ll be okay.”

  “How do you know? Are you ready for me to be camped out on your couch if my dad kicks me out.”

  “I can see your dad being upset, but I don’t see him tossing you out. If he does, sure. The couch is yours. You can even have the guest room.”

  “I’m so worried I’m going to lose them.” She explained to Pauline how she used to feel like she could hop from one path to the other, being either with her family or her girlfriend but never both.

  “I get what you’re saying, but you know it’s ridiculous, right? Your father, your family should be able to meet you halfway. Why should you have to give up a whole part of who you are to be considered part of the family? What about that sounds fair?”

  “I know.”

  “While we’re at it, why can’t God meet you halfway? Here you are believing and working so hard. I’ve never seen anyone try as hard as I’ve seen you try to live by a set of rules. For what? Are you happy? Are you satisfied? It shouldn’t all fall on you. The way I see it, if you’re trying so hard, the least he could do is send you a sign or something.”

  “Like the headache that won’t go away?”

  Pauline smacked her hand. “No, not like your headache which is clearly your body in conflict with your beliefs. Follow your heart, and you’ll feel a whole lot better.”

  “I thought caffeine was the answer.”

  “That and love. If I started a chu
rch, that would be the center of it all.” She squeezed Hope’s hand, and Hope blinked up at her in surprise.

  “Love? Who said anything about love?”

  “I’ve known you a long time, Hope. You’ve never looked at anyone the way you look at Dani. You haven’t shared those books you love with anyone in the world, and you lend them to Dani without question. That’s love.”

  “They’re just books.”

  “Not to you. What’s the note say?”

  Hope hesitated but pulled it out of her pocket, explaining both the talk they’d had at Dani’s house and the lengthy phone call they’d shared.

  Pauline nodded appreciatively as she handed the note back. “Listen to you. You admitted you’re a mess in the head, and she didn’t run the other way?”

  Hope finally laughed. “When you put it that way…”

  “And you’re going out?”

  “We’re going to the movies tomorrow.”

  “Good. She’s smart enough to start small.”

  Hope nodded.

  “You know, you’re only considering what you lose by making a choice. Have you thought about what you gain?”

  Thinking about Dani and what she wanted to do when she was alone with her made Hope blush.

  “Okay. You’re not as lost as I thought,” Pauline hooted, patting her hand. She inspected Hope’s fingernails. “Nice and short. You’re in business there.”

  Hope gasped and snatched her hand away. “Pauline!”

  “You’re too easy to tease. Should I let Dani in on that secret, or does she already know?”

  “What exactly is it I’m gaining?” Hope said, trying to steer the conversation away from the bawdy that Pauline loved so much.

  “Yourself, who you really are. Isn’t that a gain?” They stood and Pauline wrapped her arms around Hope. “I know you worry about your family, and you worry about what everyone in town will think. It seems like you’ve spent your whole life worrying about everyone but yourself. The way I see it, it’s your turn to worry about you and what you want. Do something for you, why don’t you. You’ve got me and Burley. I hope you know that.”

  “I do.” Hope felt tears coming. She hugged her friend more tightly, keeping herself grounded in Pauline’s love instead of worrying about how her conversation would go with her family.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You’re sure she’s ready?” Gabe asked.

  “Trust me.”

  He hung his head. “I don’t see this ending well.”

  “Where is your faith? Your support?”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Why did I even bother bringing you into this?”

  “In case you get hurt. I’m your friend. I’ve got your back. It’s gonna be a helluva thing to watch, but I’ve got your back.”

  “You’ve got a ways to go for me to believe you.” I flicked the Navajo blanket I carried over Eights’s withers, around her girth and over her rump. We’d been working hard every day. She stood stock-still now after our round corral lesson and let me run my hands all along her body and down each leg. She was calm in my presence and stood as I nestled the saddle on her back and tightened the cinch. “Watch this,” I said, bending one of her ears and waggling it, so the tip flapped at him.

  “What?”

  “You can only do that with a relaxed horse. She’s ready.” I unsnapped the lead from her halter and ran my hands down her neck over her rump, sending her away from me to the wall of the round corral. I raised my arms to keep her moving in a circle around me, and she trotted out without so much as a crowhop, my empty stirrups bouncing against her sides. I grabbed my flag, a whip with a plastic bag tied to the end that I used to increase her pace, and showed Gabe how I wanted him to work with her. My plan was to add weight to the saddle by just sitting there. I didn’t want to use my legs or hands at all. Gabe would do all the directing from the ground as I’d been doing with the flag.

  We traded places, and I gave him some directions with the flag and let them work for a bit, so Eights got used to my being outside the round corral and Gabe giving the orders. When it seemed like they were communicating, I nodded to him. He moved to her shoulder, bringing her to a halt. “She is responsive,” he conceded. “I just hope it’s laundry day.”

  “Bite it, mister,” I said, squelching through the mud to the horse. Gabe took hold of her halter, and I slipped my left foot into the stirrup. I gave a small hop and stood in the stirrup, letting her feel my weight on the saddle before I swung my right leg over and into the other stirrup. Her ears flicked in my direction, and she shifted her feet nervously. Gabe watched me, and I met his eyes and nodded. He released her halter and slowly stepped backward into the middle of the round corral. I rubbed my hands all over Eights’s neck just as I had been doing, just from a different angle. When I sat up, Gabe took a step toward the mare’s haunches and got her walking.

  After a few tentative steps, she strode out underneath me. Hands on my thighs, I was just a passenger, letting her get used to the way our bodies worked together and see that I wasn’t going to ask anything of her that she couldn’t do.

  When we worked on our own, I was constantly talking to Eights, working out lesson plans, complaining about students, just whatever was on my mind. With Gabe here, I thought it would be weird to carry on my one-sided conversation and figured what better time to find out more about Hope? Since she’d shown her hand, we’d talked on the phone and made a plan to go to the movies. I tried to think about those things in terms of a typical relationship progressing, but I knew it was anything but.

  For one, I’d never pursued someone with Hope’s complex issues. Two, an emotional connection for me usually grew along with or even after the physical one. Having spent so much time with Hope before asking her on a date had moved me much deeper than I’d ever been before even having a kiss. I felt like I was crawling out on a very thin branch and wondered just how precarious it really was. I wanted to know how foolish it might be to pursue Hope but didn’t want to out her.

  “You think Hope will come back to the club this week?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” Gabe said, waving the flag at Eights’s hocks to get her trotting. “Sure was a shocker to see her there.”

  “What do you think would have happened with the two of you if she hadn’t been Mormon?”

  He laughed. “What would have happened with me and you if you didn’t dig girls?”

  “C’mon. That’s a stupid question. I can’t change being gay.”

  “There’s your answer.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “There are people who think they’re straight and then figure out that they’re gay. Couldn’t the same thing work for religion? You think you’re Mormon and then figure out it doesn’t quite feel right.”

  Gabe stepped in front of Eights, bending her in the other direction, working through my exercises like he’d been by my side through all my months of training her. “I just don’t see it. Her whole family is Mormon. How do you stray from that?”

  “Your whole family is straight, and Kristine didn’t let that influence who she is.”

  Gabe rubbed his beard. “But Kristine’s always been like that. She never cared who thought what about her. That kind of stuff matters to Hope.”

  “You reckon that would’ve split you up, even if she hadn’t been Mormon?”

  “Why are you so curious about it all, anyway? Did she say something about leaving the church?”

  I hedged his question, not wanting him to think I was feeling him out for her. I thought back on our conversation and realized I could honestly say she hadn’t said anything to me about leaving the church. “No. I was just thinking on it watching the two of you dance, wondering what would have been if…”

  “We were just teenagers. What high school sweethearts ever make it, you know?”

  “But you were sweet on her?”

  “Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t love to bring a girl like Hope home? I don’t
know anyone kinder than she is. Like I told you before, she takes care of people. She’s not afraid of work. You know she grows a whole lot of what they serve in the diner herself? Mrs. Wheeler’s let her use her garden plots for years now.”

  He waggled the flag, pushing Eights into a trot interspersed with some minor crowhops. I stuck with her easily, but our conversation naturally paused as we made sure Eights had no more tricks. He brought her back to a walk to turn her and then got her trotting again. He must’ve still been thinking because once we were back into a smooth jog, he continued. “She’s really beautiful too. I don’t know if she’s your type…” I shot him a look that shut him up. “It’s not like you say a whole lot about your ex or talk about girls in town. How am I supposed to know what you go for?”

  I really didn’t want him thinking I was interested in Hope. What we had was so new and fragile, I wanted it to be just ours to see where it went. It felt like a planted seed, something you can’t even see and just have to have faith that it will take root and sprout into something more. I knew where it was planted and wanted to give it time and space. If Gabe had any hint of it, I worried he’d come in and trample it. “First off, I don’t mess around with straight girls,” I said, just in case he was starting to suspect why I’d begun the whole conversation.

  “That’s fair. Do you have a type, though? Like really girly or not so girly?”

  “Oh, man. You obviously didn’t talk to Kristine about stuff like this,” I said, laughing.

  “What?”

  “It’s butch or femme.”

  “So which do you usually go for?”

  I don’t know why I felt so put on the spot. It wasn’t hard looking at my past girlfriends to see that I gravitated toward more feminine women. Many, Candy included, at the lipstick end of the spectrum. “Head turners.” I surprised myself saying it out loud.