“I jumped and landed on the wing of the other plane. I began to lose my balance and nearly fell off. A man came out of the plane, grabbed hold of my arm, and helped me inside. I can’t remember anything about the medical emergency, except that I took care of it. I remember feeling important and needed, the way I did when I was in the Army.
“The dream shifted and I was in Texas at Fort Bliss.” When Kathleen said Fort Bliss, she looked directly at Kevin and laughed. “I guess I dreamed right into that one.”
Kevin couldn’t help but chuckle along with Kathleen.
Kathleen continued, “Well, I was in civvies and was being thanked by this female officer. I had the urge to salute, but I remembered I was a civilian and saluting wouldn’t have been appropriate. I felt a longing to be back in the service, but I knew it was too late. There was no going back. The female officer smiled and I felt this really strong sexual attraction. I thought of the ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell, policy,’ and turned around and walked away. That’s when I woke up.”
Kevin sat quietly waiting for Kathleen’s associations.
“I felt free, jumping from one plane to another, as if I had nothing to lose and I wanted to be of help. I’ve missed that part, the camaraderie that comes from being part of the Army. Mostly, the dream was about living, taking risks and not being afraid. I think, because of my fears, I’ve tried to control my life and everything around it. In the dream I gave up control.”
“What about the woman? You walked away.”
“I didn’t want to hide anymore. I didn’t want to pretend I was somebody I wasn’t.”
Kevin nodded and sat back in his chair. “You were on the wing of the plane, trying to balance. Do you know who the man was who pulled you inside?”
“It was just a man. But wait—” Her eyes closed as if she was reviewing the dream. She continued to speak with her eyes closed. “It was strange, because he was helping me to keep my balance, but he only had one leg. He had a below the knee amputation—” Kathleen opened her eyes. A look of awareness and a small smile played across her face. “It was you, Kevin.”
Kevin nodded. “It sounds as if we were working as a team, balancing and supporting each other. It’s about being able to accept help and be in a relationship.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m wondering, perhaps it’s time for you to call Claire. Any thoughts about that?”
PART SEVEN
Second Spring
CHAPTER 41
Kathleen parked outside of Claire’s apartment. She was early. A nasty habit, she thought.
She rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her mind drifted to the day when she brought Oscar home from the vet’s, and she and Claire spoke about San Francisco. She remembered the times she would sneak away from Los Angeles to meet Gary. Sitting in a bar, waiting to strike up a conversation with another woman, walking back to a hotel together, but always waking up in the morning to find she was alone.
How different it was to be with Claire. Falling asleep, bodies touching. Stirring at night to hear soft breathing, knowing she was there. Waking in the morning, to discover arms and legs tangled as if one started where the other left off. Sleeping late, waking to find Claire staring with love in her eyes, and words that told her how much she was loved.
Kathleen tried to remember when she realized she was in love with Claire. Was it when she placed her hand on Claire’s forehead to see if she had a fever? Would that count? Was it when they went to the beach and Claire put sunscreen on her back? Or, when they went river rafting and Claire clung to her, crying? Kathleen realized that there wasn’t a particular moment. She had opened her heart to this quirky, sometimes brassy woman from New York and her love crept in to fill the emptiness.
Kathleen looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was exactly six o’clock. She hoped Claire liked the wine she was bringing. Kathleen walked the short distance to the building. She was careful to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk. She didn’t want to conjure up a bad omen.
Claire’s apartment building was covered in cedar siding, stained a dark red, creating a rustic appearance. A small waterfall, emptying into a serene pond stocked with koi and surrounded by ferns, decorated the front of the building, and softened the noise from the street. Kathleen’s heart leaped when she rang the entry button and heard Claire’s voice. She was torn in half between “I can’t wait to see her” and “I can’t do this.”
Kathleen entered the elevator, pressed the third floor button, felt the elevator bounce twice and begin its ascent. The elevator lurched, and she thought how strange it would be if she got stuck and spent the evening in the elevator, alone. At least she had the wine, but realized she had no way to open the bottle. There were obstacles everywhere.
The elevator stopped with a jolt and brought her back to reality. She was on the third floor. She was in deep, with no way out unless lightning struck or aliens abducted her. She contemplated the odds. The sky was clear and there was no sign of a spaceship. Kathleen rang the doorbell.
There was an awkward moment as they hugged briefly. Kathleen handed Claire the wine. “I forgot to ask what you were serving. I hope this is all right.”
Claire looked at the label. “Napa Valley, Sauvignon Blanc. It’s one of my favorites. It will be perfect with dinner and even better before.”
She touched Kathleen’s arm and walked toward the kitchen. Claire, with her usual flair, had made novel use of the small space. Potted flowers lined the window ledge and colorful potholders and dishtowels lent the room a homey cheer. Kathleen admired two small prints of Monet’s timeless paintings of fruit and a whimsical sign with the motto Sexy Women Have Messy Kitchens. Claire was nothing if not eclectic.
Kathleen breathed in deeply. “Whatever you’re cooking, it smells delicious.”
Claire laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, but dinner is compliments of an excellent chef just down the street—he says I’m culinary-challenged and takes pity on me. So, how is everyone? I really miss Sam and Helen—especially Helen’s cooking—and, of course, Oscar.”
Kathleen smiled. “Oscar Tilquist, the Third is fine. Everyone else is, too.”
“Good!” said Claire. She handed Kathleen a glass of wine and guided her toward the living room. “Let’s sit down and catch up.”
Kathleen sat on the couch, Claire on a nearby chair. They talked for a while, keeping the conversation light and safe.
“How’s your project going?” Kathleen asked.
“I’m really excited; you know how much storytelling means to me. It’s something we all have inside. I believe it’s the way we connect.
“The displays are going to be awesome and completely interactive—hands-on for all the kids. We’re beginning with storytelling in the prehistoric era. One display is replicas of cave paintings, and we’ll have an area for kids to create their own stories through art.
“The design part is finished, and I’ll be wrapping up the first part of my job next week. I’ve started to work on the accompanying book. Would you like to see the sketches?”
Kathleen smiled. “I’d love to.”
Like a kid, Claire bolted from her chair as if ejected from it. Kathleen heard the shuffling of papers from the other room and thought about Claire’s uniquely haphazard filing system. Claire returned and handed a binder to Kathleen. She smiled embarrassedly, “I knew it was somewhere.”
Kathleen held the binder as if she was holding Claire’s dreams in her hands. She moved slowly through the sketches. When she finished she looked at Claire. “I’m really proud of you. I always knew you were talented, and it shows in your work. I hope you never feel like a failure again.”
Kathleen closed the binder and placed it on the coffee table. “We need to talk.”
Claire’s lips quivered. “I may have had this conversation before. Is this where you tell me it’s not going to work out between us?”
“No, not at all. Claire, come sit next to me and let me hold you.”
; Claire sighed as she moved into Kathleen’s arms.
Kathleen said, “It feels so natural for me to hold you. I’ve always been afraid I couldn’t comfort you, to give you what you needed. You’ve been the one to hold me—us—together. Do you remember that first time, when we hiked to Christmas River and we sat in the truck? I told you I was damaged goods, and wouldn’t tell you why. I was ashamed and shut you out. I know now that a relationship can’t be built on secrets.
“These last months have shaken my foundation and I don’t know quite where to begin. Part of me has been this lonely, scared little girl, who has filled her life with make-believe. I rewrote my history for so many years, I’m not sure if I knew what was real.
“I told everyone my parents were both dead. My father died, but not in a car accident. He committed suicide. My mother didn’t die in childbirth; she was mentally ill and homeless for years. I got a phone call from my brother Devon on Christmas Day and he took me to our mother. It all feels so unreal, to see Devon, not as I remembered him, but as a grown man. And my mother… I held her hand as she died.”
It was getting harder for Kathleen to speak. Her mouth was dry and her words stuck in her throat. She took a sip of wine and fought the tears that were stinging her eyes. “I want to tell you the truth, about everything. I don’t know if you’ll still want me. I’m so ashamed about some of the things I’ve done.”
Claire took her hand. “Whatever you’re ashamed of can’t be worse than keeping it a secret.”
“I know you’re right.” Kathleen wiped the few tears from her eyes. “My… my…” she stammered and shook her head. “It’s really hard to get it out.”
Claire continued to hold her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Kathleen looked at Claire, gathering strength from the love she saw in her eyes. “It started when I was eight and a half. Things were bad with my family. My mother was pregnant, my father out of work.” She shook her head. “Not enough food, no heat in the house. He started taking it out on me with his belt. Afterward, he would put alcohol on the wound and I wasn’t allowed to cry. It’s what I use after I hurt myself. I’ve used it for years. There are times when I feel dirty, and I can’t feel clean, no matter what I do.
“That’s when I use the scrub pad and alcohol. I used it the night of the fire, and I couldn’t tell you. That night, you wouldn’t let me run away and you kept loving me. I don’t know if you can forgive me for pushing you, your love, away.
“Claire, I’m so sorry I couldn’t hold your hand when you wanted me to. I know that hurt you. More than anything, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you how much I love you.”
Claire gathered Kathleen close to her, rubbing her back, making soothing sounds.
Kathleen stayed in Claire’s arms until she went limp. “I’m so tired of fighting it.”
“You don’t have to fight it, not anymore,” Claire cooed. “Let me love you, just love you.”
“Can you? Can you still love me?”
Claire abruptly seized Kathleen’s chin in her hand, turned her face, and kissed her passionately. “Do I have to draw you a picture, too?” she said in mock exasperation.
Kathleen looked at her for a long moment, her eyes glistening. “There’s more.”
“I’m listening,” Claire said. “So far, you haven’t frightened me away.”
“A mother came to see me, concerned about her daughter, whom she thought was gay, and thought I might be able to help,” she said at last, her voice very soft. “It seems the whole town suspected you and I were a couple, and most of them didn’t care.”
“Told you so!” Claire crowed.
Kathleen smiled at Claire’s remark. “I feel like such a fool. I couldn’t see it then, but I can see it now.”
Kathleen hesitated before speaking. “There is something I’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time. I love you, Claire, I’ve loved you for so long—please come home to me.”
Claire reached up, as she did that day at Christmas River, and brushed away the hair that had fallen around Kathleen’s face. “I don’t know how you survived, but you have, and I love you for it.” She drew Kathleen close, holding her tightly against her breasts. “I’ve missed you… I’ve missed us. I want our life back.
“I was in this as much as you. I should have told you I was getting angry. I shouldn’t have waited until I erupted.” Claire stopped. “You told me you loved me. I’ve wanted to hear those words since we first kissed. That’s all I care about.
“Stay with me tonight? I don’t want us to be separated, and I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m not sure I could manage to walk back to my car let alone drive to the hotel. I can’t remember ever being this exhausted.”
“We’ll have dinner and then I’m tucking you into bed.”
“Will you be there with me?”
“Always.”
Kathleen snuggled next to Claire in bed. “Claire…”
“Hmm…”
“Tell me a story.”
“Hmm… do you want a kinda funny, kinda sad one?”
“I want a Claire story.”
“Do you know how I thought babies were born?”
“No.”
“The stork. My bubba told me I was dropped down our chimney by a stork, wrapped tightly in a padded pink blanket, so I wouldn’t get any bumps. When I was in fourth grade, they showed us The Film. You know the one I mean? About menstruation and how babies are born. I ran home crying. Sobbing. I knew it was true, because it suddenly occurred to me that we didn’t have a chimney.
“That afternoon my bubba sat me on her lap and rocked me, back and forth, back and forth. ‘What is it, darling?’ she asked, ‘Did someone tease you in school?’ I couldn’t stop crying. Finally, between sobs, I managed to tell her, ‘Bubba, the stork doesn’t bring babies.’ She held me tightly and said, ‘I know, I know… Claire, if you want, you can suck your thumb.’
“Well, I knew if I was going to be allowed to do that, there must be something big coming down the road. So, I started to suck my thumb. Bubba said, ‘Sweetheart, there’s no stork, no Santa, and no Passover Bunny. They’re make-believe stories to make little boys and girls happy. Would you like to know what is real?’
“I had to take my thumb out of my mouth to ask, ‘What, Bubba?’ She said, ‘True love, that is the one thing that is real.’ Then I said, ‘Does that mean I won’t get any more bunnies for Passover?’ I got Mr. Fluffy for the next Passover, and I’ve been searching for true love ever since.”
“Did you find your true love?”
Claire traced Kathleen’s face, gently moving from her forehead to her lips. Claire leaned over until their lips brushed. “Does that answer your question?”
A quiet whimper was Kathleen’s response. “I’ve been so afraid.”
“Are you crying?”
“Sort of. I leak all the time. I was doing a well baby check with a six-month-old little dumpling, and I started crying. Not sobbing but the tears were streaming down my face, like a flood. The mom got really scared, she thought something was wrong.”
“What’d you say?”
“That I was touched by her daughter’s perfection.”
“I’ll bet she liked that.”
“Liked it? It was all over town. Now, all the moms want to see if I cry over their babies.”
“Do you?”
Kathleen nodded. “All the time.”
“I’m glad.”
“Do you know how I thought babies were born?”
“I’d love to hear.”
“I believed there was a zipper that grew when you became a woman. When I saw my mother’s red stretch marks, I was sure she used a magic marker to let the doctors know where the zipper was hidden.”
“That was very creative.”
Kathleen chuckled. “I’ve never thought about it without feeling sad. Now, it seems sweet.”
Claire said, “Do you know when I started to fall in love with you?”
&
nbsp; “I want to know.”
“Remember when I came upstairs for the first time and you found Mr. Fluffy for me? You couldn’t stop laughing.”
“I was worried I might have offended you.”
“You have a wonderful laugh, and the way you examined Mr. Fluffy… Well, Dr. Moore, I’ve been head over heels for you from that moment on.”
They talked quietly into the night, exchanging stories, sharing secrets until they fell asleep, two heads resting softly on one pillow.
Claire woke up early, made coffee, and took a steaming cup into the bedroom. Kathleen was sleeping on her belly, with one arm beneath her and the other hanging over the side of the bed. Claire knelt down next to her and called her name. Kathleen turned over, groaned, and kept her eyes closed.
Claire kissed her eyelids. “Time to get up, honey.”
Kathleen threw her left arm over her eyes and rubbed her right one gingerly. “Crap, my arm fell asleep.” She squinted to keep the light out. “What time is it?”
“Six thirty.”
Kathleen turned over. “Too early,” she said, covering her head with the pillow.
Claire stood up and her voice was firmer. “Kathleen, smell the coffee and get your butt out of bed.”
Kathleen grumbled, sat up, and looked confused. She patted the bed, beckoning Claire to sit next to her.
“Nah-ha,” said Claire. “I’m not budging until you’re out of bed and in the bathroom.”
Kathleen cocked her head. “Did we make love last night?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. We both pooped out.”
Kathleen looked disappointed.
“I want you to listen to me. I learned more about you last night than in the year we’ve known each other. And that, my dear, is a different way to make love. Thank you for that.”
Kathleen murmured, “I love you.”
Claire smiled, “I know.”
Some part of Kathleen was stirring and she stood up, trembling. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“You have in a way. You’ve had some hard times.” She took Kathleen’s arm. Come on, bathroom’s this way.” It was only a few feet from the bedroom to the bathroom, but Claire gave Kathleen a tour as she steered her in that direction. “Your clothes are in here,” she pointed to the closet. “Towels, toothbrush, hair dryer—” she pointed in another direction. “I have to warn you, there is only enough hot water for a quick shower so you better hop to it. I’m going to fix breakfast; I have a feeling you’re really hungry.”
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