Emily sat across from her. “Very. This one’s a personal journal, but I’ve been having trouble reading it. She used some kind of shorthand, not a standard one, but I think I’ve finally figured part of it out.”
“Didn’t she live out here on her own for years and years? What does her journal talk about?”
“I’ve only read the first two pages, but it’s day-to-day stuff—what she did, how she filled her time. With little snippets of poems in there, too. Those have been harder to figure out, but I think I translated the first lines of this one.” She pointed at the page.
June leaned closer. “What’s it say?”
She picked up her notes and cleared her throat. “When the dusty day settles into sleep,/beware the watchful eyes of the moon.” She paused. “At least I think that’s what it says.”
June smiled. “‘The dusty day…’ I like that! You’ll have to tell me the rest once you translate it. But I thought she was a novelist?”
“She was. I guess she was also a poet.”
“But no hidden, unknown novels here?”
Emily shook her head, unable to hide her disappointment. “Not so far. But even if there isn’t any fiction in this pile, it’s still an amazing find.”
June leaned back into her chair. She was wearing a short, silk bathrobe the color of crushed rose petals. It hitched far up on her thigh, and Emily had to look away to keep from staring at her exposed leg. June seemed oblivious to her own exposure and was digging around in the little pocket at the front of her robe. A moment later, she pulled out a joint and held it up for Emily to see.
“Do you mind? I was going to smoke it in my room, but I was getting a little edgy in there on my own. I don’t smoke often, but I will when I can’t sleep.”
“Go ahead.” Emily hadn’t smoked pot since college, and she wasn’t friends with people who did, but in theory she had no problem with it. She wasn’t about to tell June that she hated the smell.
“Have something I could use for the ash?”
She thought for a moment and then walked across the room and grabbed a little glass tumbler off her nightstand. June had already lit the joint and taken a drag, her eyes closed as she held it in. She let out the smoke in a long, shaky breath, filling the room with the stink, grinning and coughing lightly.
“Damn,” June said. “Tastes terrible. It’s been in my purse too long.” She held it out. “Want a hit?”
Emily started to shake her head, hesitated, and then took it. “I can’t remember the last time I used this stuff.” It had been once, at a party, over ten years ago.
June smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bike.”
Emily puffed on it, weakly, and, finding it wasn’t as terrible as she’d feared, took a longer pull and burst out coughing. June stood up and sat in the chair closer to hers, pounding her back until she stopped. They grinned at each other, and Emily handed the joint back to her.
“Clearly a novice,” she said, her throat raw from coughing.
“It happens to the best of us,” June said, taking another hit. This time she held it in longer, and when she blew it out, she managed a smoke ring. She raised her eyebrows up and down. “But then, some of us are experts.”
Emily was pretty sure it was too early to experience the effects of the joint, but her head felt light from coughing, and she leaned back into her chair, surprised to find herself relaxing. Being around June earlier today and yesterday had been a little nerve-wracking, scary in its own way. She’d been terrified lest she say something, do something wrong. Maybe now, after all that had happened, she could relax around her.
June gave her a funny smile, her eyes now red and watery. “I think you’re starting to get a little stoned, Dr. Murray.”
She laughed, much longer than she needed to, and shook her head. The feeling made her dizzy and she laughed again. “So fast?”
June shrugged. “You’re probably a lightweight. I mean look at you—you’re tiny. What are you, five feet nothing?”
“Five foot one,” she said, pretending to be insulted.
June laughed. “Well, I’m five-ten, and let me tell you, it takes a lot to get me high. Or drunk.” She shook her head. “I’ve always been envious of shorter women.”
Emily laughed again. “You must be kidding me. Any woman would die to look like you.” She knew she should be embarrassed to have said those words out loud, but strangely, she felt fine. She spoke slowly, emphasizing her words. “You’re gorgeous.”
June smiled and lowered her eyes. “You’re not hard on the eyes either, Emily. You must have…people asking for your number all the time.”
She noticed the hesitation and smiled. June must know by now, she thought. “Are you flirting with me, Dr. Friend?”
June smiled that stunning smile that disarmed her every time she saw it. “And what if I was? What would you do to stop me?” Her tone was coy, playful.
The question sobered her. She leaned closer to June, inches from touching her. “Nothing at all.”
“Well, then,” June whispered.
“Well, then,” she repeated.
They continued to stare at each other, and June’s lips curled into a lazy grin. Her eyes were mischievous, and Emily grew hot, tensing in anticipation. Any moment now, June was going to kiss her. She could see it in her eyes. Then, strangely, June’s gaze flickered away from Emily’s, and she leaned back into her chair.
“God, I’m so tired. This stuff is really doing the trick.” She gestured with the joint. “After the day we had, I thought I’d be up all night.”
Despite her excitement, sleep was now dragging at Emily’s eyes, too. Her head felt heavy, her face hot, and when she leaned back, the room spun a little around her. She stifled a yawn and closed her eyes, suddenly sure she could sleep right here in the chair. A moment later she felt a hand on hers, and she opened her eyes and met June’s. Her expression was dark, worried.
“Look. I didn’t come in here to smoke pot with you.”
“Oh?” Emily said, making herself sit up straight. It was hard to move. Her limbs felt heavy on her joints, difficult to control.
June was playing with the hem of her bathrobe, eyes averted. “I wanted to ask you something. It’s going to sound stupid.”
Emily’s heart started pounding. The pot and their conversation had put what had happened today out of her mind for the first time all evening. She’d managed to get a little work done after she left Mark and Jim in the hallway, but she’d caught herself losing track of her reading several times, suddenly remembering her panic in the steam room or Jim’s face when he’d seen the woman in the window. The work had absorbed her again before the knocking started, but she didn’t want to talk about any of the earlier events right now. But of course she would, if June wanted to.
Emily made herself nod. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
“Do you think I could stay in here tonight?”
She hadn’t expected this question, and her face must have reflected her complete surprise, because June laughed. “That didn’t come out right. I’m sorry. You must think I’m batty. I planned to ask more smoothly than that.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m a little muddled. I don’t mean to sound like I’m coming on to you or anything. I could sleep on the floor or whatever, if you’re uncomfortable having me in bed with you. I’m afraid of being on my own. After today, I mean.”
Emily steeled herself, meeting June’s eyes. She wanted to get this right. “You can sleep in here whenever you need to, June. And you’re not sleeping on the floor. I will if you want me to, but we can share the bed. It’s big enough.”
June gave her another sunny smile. “Whew. Thank you. I know I’m being ridiculous.”
“Not at all.”
“Okay. As long as you don’t mind. Let me put this out and go brush my teeth.” She shivered. “I hate that damn bathroom.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Right? It’s a murder room if ever there was one. I took su
ch a quick bath this morning, I don’t even think I washed all the soap off my body. Tomorrow we should go see what the guys’ bathroom is like.”
Emily smiled. “It’s actually worse. I already checked it out.”
June made a face, and they both laughed. “Do you want to go in there first?”
“No. I’m okay. I can wait and go after you.”
June left the room, and Emily continued to sit in the chair. Her palms were wet with sweat, a wave of excitement making her pulse race. She hadn’t imagined it all. June had been flirting with her earlier today. After what had happened in the steam room, Emily had been afraid that nothing would come of it—that they’d never get a chance to follow up on their almost-kiss. And now June was going to sleep in her bed.
June came back a few minutes later, and Emily got up and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face carefully, peering into the mirror before she left. Why June, of all people, would find her attractive was a little beyond her.
Emily knew objectively that she wasn’t ugly. Her hair was nicely cut for once, chin-length and dark and, despite the activities of the day, still nicely styled. Her face, like the rest of her, was small, pointed. She’d always been a little underweight, always very slight—elfin, someone had once called her. She had nice, light-gray eyes, her most striking feature.
No, she wasn’t ugly, but she also wasn’t even close to June’s level. She had dated different women off and on over the years, never seriously, and while it was true that men and women asked her on dates more often than she went on them, it had been a while since she’d slept with anyone. She wasn’t even sure if June wanted sex. She was going to have to let June make the first move—no way was she brave enough to do it herself.
Half certain June would be asleep already, or pretending to be asleep, she returned to her bedroom and opened the door as quietly as possible. June had turned off all the lights except for the two dim ones on either side of the bed. She was still up, standing, and now wearing only a silk camisole and panties. Her long, gorgeous legs were completely exposed, her arms bare. The camisole was short enough that Emily could glimpse her stomach between it and her panties, and she swallowed, hard.
June gestured behind her at the bed. “I didn’t know what side you wanted, so I waited.”
Emily had to lick her lips to speak. “Thanks. The right, I guess.”
June climbed into the left side of the bed, turned off her lamp, and then closed her side of the canopy. Emily shut the front canopy and then dragged her side halfway. She motioned at the light. “Ready?”
June looked very small inside the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. She nodded. Emily turned the light off and pulled the canopy behind her before getting under the covers.
They lay in the darkness, a couple of feet apart. Emily hadn’t realized how large this bed was. Somehow, with another person in it, it seemed bigger than it had when she was alone. Unless she’d known June was there, she would have been certain she was alone. Only the slight sound of June’s breathing was evidence that she was actually here.
“Jesus. It’s like a tomb,” June said, sounding far away.
“I think that’s the idea. No sun can get in here, that’s for sure.”
“Unless it opens on its own,” June said.
“Right.”
“Christ. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Emily heard and felt her twisting around, the covers moving on her body. June’s voice was closer when she spoke again. “You must have been terrified when that happened.”
Emily thought about it and then nodded, stupidly, in the dark. “I was. I could barely breathe.”
“How awful for you.” Judging by her voice, she’d inched even closer.
Emily’s heart was pounding now. This was what she’d been waiting for. June was going to make a move, any second. She clenched her hands, terrified she would reach out prematurely. Nothing happened for a long time. She could picture June, turned toward her, maybe propped up on an elbow. Was she waiting for something? Should she do something now, before June had time to change her mind?
“Well,” June said, and Emily heard her fall back onto the pillow. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
The disappointment was crushing, and Emily almost cursed out loud. She’d blown it again. June had come to her, waited for her to do something, and she’d lain there like a dead thing. All she’d needed to do was reach out—less than a foot—and touch the side of June’s face, and June would have welcomed whatever came next. Why did she have to be so goddamn stupid all the time?
Hot with frustration and anger, she pushed the quilt off as far as she could, hoping she wouldn’t disturb June. June had been silent for a while, so Emily was fairly certain she’d fallen asleep, but she was careful anyway. She was damp with sweat—her cotton nightgown clinging to her skin. For a moment, she imagined how nice it would feel to rip it off and throw it to the foot of the bed. But she didn’t have anything on underneath.
She closed her eyes, remembering the glimpse of June’s body. It had been everything she imagined it would be—long and lean, muscular but feminine, with cream colored skin. Emily could picture her own pale fingers running up and down June’s arm. She bit her tongue, hard, to distract herself. Stop it, she thought. You’re making it worse.
Suddenly June sighed, loudly, and flung back the covers. “God, it’s hot.”
Emily’s heart tripped happily, and she licked her lips. “I’m roasting.”
“Sleeping in here doesn’t really help, does it? Either you’re awake with the sun or you boil to death in your sleep.”
Emily laughed, weakly, unsure what to say.
“Should we open the canopy? Maybe on one side?” June asked. “Then we could open a window or something.”
“I don’t think it matters what side we open—it will still be too bright in here. I say we open it completely or leave it closed.”
“Let’s open it, then. Maybe we can close it in the morning.”
They both climbed out of bed, and Emily turned the light on again so they could see. Their gaze met across the bed once the canopy was open, and they grinned.
“Shall we open a window?” June asked.
“Let’s. It might cool it down enough to close the canopy again.”
Emily started struggling with one of the largest windows overlooking the front lawn, and a moment later June stood next to her, trying to help. They both cursed and fought with it before moving to a smaller window nearby, but that one didn’t open, either.
“Damn,” June said, stepping away. “Won’t budge.”
“They might be painted shut,” she suggested. “Sometimes they’ll do that on purpose to keep the weather out in these old houses.”
June stepped closer as if to examine her more closely. “Your face is all red. And your hair is completely wet!” She placed her hand on Emily’s forehead. “You’re burning up!”
Emily leaned into the hand, closing her eyes. “I’m really hot.”
“You might have a fever. Do you feel sick?”
She still had her eyes closed, and she shook her head, enjoying the sensation of June’s cold palm. “I’m just hot.”
She opened her eyes when June dropped her hand, and then they stood there looking at each other, Emily peering up at June’s face. Nothing in June’s expression told her anything different than it had before, but Emily brushed a lock of hair off June’s face before tracing the edge of her cheek with her fingertips. June’s eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into Emily’s hand. Emily used her other hand to pull her closer, and they kissed.
June’s lips tasted like marzipan—sweet almonds. She moved closer, their overheated bodies now touching, and June threw her head back with a gasp. On tiptoe, Emily kissed her neck, feeling June shudder underneath her as she moved her lips and tongue across her collarbone. June’s breath was ragged now, and she clutched Emily’s shoulders, her grip almost painful. Emily p
ulled June closer and kissed her again and then stepped away, grabbing June’s hand and pulling her toward the bed.
June followed.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, anyone might have thought it hadn’t happened. Even Emily was halfway convinced she’d dreamt the whole thing. Except for the tender soreness in some unusual places, and the wrinkled, ruffled bed, she found no evidence June had been there except for the pink bathrobe she’d left behind. When Emily joined the others for breakfast, June greeted her like she had the morning before, warmly, but with no outward signs of affection.
Emily could understand this behavior. June would, of course, want to keep what had happened under wraps. They had to work with everyone this summer, and no one else needed to know about their private affairs. She wasn’t even that hurt by June’s deception, though she had fantasized about seeing Jim’s expression when he saw them holding hands. But, without saying a word, June made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, and Emily was fine with that.
She and Jim started on the Lewis paperwork right after breakfast, and the day passed quickly and without incident. Besides breakfast, everyone in the household ate meals haphazardly and alone, generally. In the early evening, when the four of them gathered again for a break, they shared their findings.
Jim was visibly excited, pacing the room as he talked and wringing his hands. “There’s a gold mine up there. Emily and I solved the first riddle of her shorthand codes, and while it’s getting easier to read the notes, it’s slow going. I can’t imagine how we’ll get through all of it in one summer.”
June and Mark were sitting together on the sofa. Emily didn’t know which chair to choose and was waiting for Jim to help her decide by default. She wanted the one nearest June, but again, she didn’t want to be obvious.
“What sorts of things did she write about?” June asked. “I mean, I don’t really get it—keeping a diary when you live alone in isolation. I can’t keep up with one, and I actually see people every day and go out once in a while.”
Gnarled Hollow Page 8