by Kim Baldwin
Gable didn’t have a great view when Erin and Tim got their blue ribbons—they were too far away for her to read their expressions. But she was seeing much more than she wanted to, anyway. After the ribbons were handed out, Tim scooped Erin up in his arms and twirled her around, then planted a big kiss on her to the cheers of the crowd.
Why are you torturing yourself? Gable decided it was time to leave. She would be in no mood for fireworks tonight.
That night, she stared at the ceiling for a long while, unable to sleep. Seeing Erin with others was killing her. She needed some distance. Maybe she should avoid her for a while. The prospect only made her feel even worse.
*
When she got home from work the next night, Gable found a message from Erin on her answering machine.
“Hi, Gable! Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye yesterday, hope everything is okay. I know you’re not home yet, but I wanted to call and invite you over for dinner. Nothing fancy. Just lasagna and garlic bread. And I promise I won’t make you move furniture! Tim helped me, so it’s all done. Call me.”
Tim was at her house. Helping her move her bed into her bedroom. Gable could picture it with all-too-vivid clarity. The two of them together, getting more and more comfortable with each other. Did he kiss you some more? With all that privacy, did he make a move? That thought led her mind to a dangerous place. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to kiss Erin, to feel those soft lips beneath hers. It would be wonderful, she had no doubt. An ache blossomed in her chest with the realization it could never be.
Gable debated with herself a full ten minutes on whether to return the call at all, but her ingrained sense of common courtesy wouldn’t allow her to ignore it. So she had to call. And she would have to lie. She hated that part. But there was no alternative. Distance, remember? You can’t see her. It will only drive you crazy. Maybe she’d wait a couple of hours, so Erin couldn’t talk her into coming over. You can say you stayed to have dinner in Meriwether with some people from work.
The phone rang a half hour later as she was munching on a tuna sandwich. She let the machine get it. “Hi again, it’s Erin. Thought you’d be home by now, and maybe just missed my message. Anyway, call me!”
Gable felt like a heel. Her appetite gone, she tossed the remainder of her sandwich out the door for some lucky raccoon or possum to find. It’s all for the best. You can’t go on like this. But she was unable to convince herself it was the right thing to do. She was deliberately hurting Erin, and there was no way she could feel good about that.
She forced herself to wait two hours before calling Erin back. Keep it short and sweet. Her hands trembled slightly as she dialed the number she had memorized. She had actually rehearsed what she would say, afraid her voice would betray her, afraid Erin could tell she was lying.
After they exchanged hellos, she said, "Sorry, I just got home and got your message. I stayed to have dinner with some friends from work.”
“No problem. I kind of figured you must have done something like that. It’s okay, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing anyway.”
“I appreciate the invitation.”
“How about tomorrow?”
Gable hadn't foreseen this possibility. “Come to dinner tomorrow," Erin blithely continued. "I have tons of lasagna left and it’s always better the second day anyway.”
No excuse at the ready, Gable stammered. “Uh…well…Let me think…oh, wait! I promised one of the women I work with that I’d help her with something tomorrow when we got off. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. Maybe late.” Brilliant. Just brilliant. It sounded like such a terribly lame excuse that Gable was certain Erin would see right through it. But if she did, she gave no indication.
“Oh, well, that’s all right. How about Thursday?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Sorry, I’ve got plans on Thursday.” Now she knows I’m lying. Gable didn’t even try to come up with a reasonable excuse. She just wanted to get off the phone.
“Oh. Okay.”
She heard the hurt in Erin’s voice and hated herself for causing it. “Look, I’ve gotta run,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” But not too soon.
“Sure. Good night, Gable. Sleep well.”
*
Being apart from Erin didn’t work. If anything, it was worse. She had a powerful imagination, and it worked overtime wondering how much time Erin was spending with Tim and what they were up to.
Erin hadn’t called her again all week, and Gable wondered whether she’d put so much distance between them that their budding friendship would be irrevocably harmed.
On Friday morning as she fixed herself breakfast, she glanced at Erin’s training schedule, tacked up on the refrigerator door. Erin had a session with Tim from two to five that afternoon to go over portable extinguishers and fire inspection practices. They get off at five. It’s natural they’d go out to dinner somewhere after. Then maybe a movie. And back to her place. That’s what I’d do.
*
There was a message on Gable's machine when she got home from work shortly after six that night. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the red number one on the digital display. Maybe she’d been wrong, and it was Erin calling.
Much as she feared having to make more excuses, she missed hearing Erin’s voice. She pressed the button and held her breath.
“Hi, sis. Just calling to confirm I’ll pick you up at nine.” Stewart’s voice. “I’ve got all the camping gear we need. Just bring your clothes and fishing gear and we can catch breakfast on the way up to the bridge.”
They were going to spend Saturday fishing on a lake Stewart knew near Saint Ignace. Then on Sunday they would take the ferry to Mackinac Island and poke around the fort and the fudge shops before heading home.
On any other occasion, Gable would have looked forward to spending some time with her brother. They always had a blast when they went fishing together. But all she could think about was how far away she’d be from Erin. She stared at the answering machine, wishing she hadn't erased Erin’s messages, so she could play them again.
There was a knock at the door.
It’s her. Gable knew it was. She wasn’t sure how she knew. But she was certain of it. Her resolve flew out the window and she couldn’t get the door unlatched fast enough.
“Hi.” Erin had a look of uncertainty on her face, as though expecting to be turned away. She held a large paper grocery bag in her arms.
Gable wanted to hug her, she was so happy to see her again. She managed to restrain herself, but she couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot. “Come on in, I just got home.”
Erin’s uncertainty dissipated and she smiled back at Gable as she crossed the threshold. “I took a chance and brought you dinner.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Erin had started toward the kitchen but she froze at Gable’s words and looked at her. The smile disappeared. “Why? Do you have plans?”
I don’t want to hurt you anymore. And I don’t think I can lie to your face. “Nope. No plans. I only meant you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
Erin’s face brightened. “No trouble. I missed you!” She continued on to the kitchen. “Go on and change,” she called out over her shoulder, “and I’ll get dinner started.”
“God, I missed you too,” Gable whispered, watching her go.
She decided then and there that it was useless to try to distance herself from Erin. It would do nothing to change the way she felt about her. It would only hurt Erin, and that was simply unacceptable.
*
Gable couldn’t decide what to change in to for dinner. She’d tried on half her wardrobe. In my own home, for Pete’s sake. And for what is probably a hamburger and fries from a fast-food joint. She'd paid no attention to the bag Erin had been carrying, having been too busy admiring how well Erin's rust-colored blouse complemented the color of her hair. Not to mention how nicely it hugged every contour of that beautiful body.
Gable herself would never wear a form-fitting blouse or a tank top like Erin had worn at the picnic. But Erin was more comfortable with her body than she was—that was obvious not only in what she wore, but in the way she carried herself. She certainly wasn’t self-conscious when she was trying on clothes.
Gable closed her eyes and swallowed hard, remembering the way the dressing room mirror had gifted her with three Erins, in cream satin bra and panties, all smiling at her. Oh yeah.
There was a soft knock at her bedroom door. “Gable? Everything’s ready.”
“Be right there.” The navy button-down shirt and faded jeans would have to do. Gable ran her hands through her hair, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for an evening of impossible temptation.
It was immediately apparent it was going to be far worse than she imagined. A spicy aroma filled her nostrils as soon as she opened the door. She couldn’t identify it, but it sure as hell wasn’t burgers and fries.
Erin had set the round oak table with Gable’s best plates and china. Two wineglasses held a burgundy liquid. Merlot, she guessed. They had discussed their favorite wines the night of the tornado. Daisies overflowed a petite crystal vase that Erin had tracked down from under the sink. Brass candlesticks taken from the mantel had new red tapers in them, which cast the table in a soft hazy light.
Erin sat waiting for her. Watching her. Smiling at her.
You look so wonderful by candlelight. Gable wanted to freeze that moment in her mind’s eye, so she could replay it over and over. It would be fodder for dreams to come, she was certain. There was such joy in Erin’s face, and such open affection…and she looks so damn irresistible…that Gable—just for a moment, considered telling her everything.
Her indecision must have been written on her face, for Erin’s smile faded.
“Gable? Is something wrong?”
She pasted a smile on her face. “No, not at all. I’m just surprised. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“It’s not much. Come sit.”
Gable took a chair next to Erin and watched her ladle up two big bowls of chili, thick with chunks of tomato and beef and garnished with cheddar cheese and red onions. Her breadbasket was filled with slices of a crusty French baguette, and there was a small mixed-greens salad with mandarin orange segments and glazed almonds, dressed in a sweet and sour vinaigrette.
“This is quite a spread,” Gable said.
“I just warmed up some chili I made last night,” Erin said. “It’s better the second day too.” She smiled as she said it but she looked at Gable as if hoping she would comment on the reference; would somehow explain why she was so busy she couldn’t see her all week. It wasn’t a hard push, more of a nudge, but it was a sure sign that Erin knew she wasn’t hearing the whole story.
Gable dug in to the chili, grateful for the distraction. She didn’t know what to say.
Erin wasn’t going to let it go. Her voice was subdued. “Gable, did I do or say something to upset you?”
Gable took a sip of wine and tried to show no reaction at all to the question. “No, why would you say that?” Just because I’ve been acting like a total basket case since the first time I laid eyes on you?
“I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
“No, I…” Gable cleared her throat, buying time to try to think up an excuse that wasn’t really a lie. “I’ve had a lot going on, that’s all. A lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can do? Would it help to talk about it?”
“Not really. But thanks for asking.”
“I’m not just saying that, you know,” Erin pressed. She put down her fork and reached across the table to place one hand loosely on Gable’s forearm. “You’ve done so much for me. Been such a good friend. Not only the night of the tornado, although that was certainly a hell of a how-do-you-do.” She looked into Gable’s eyes and smiled. “I want to be there for you every bit as much as you’ve been there for me. You can tell me anything, you know. Anything. I’m a good listener.”
“Thanks, Erin,” Gable managed, too acutely aware of the small, soft hand on her arm. “I know you mean that, and I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good. I hope you do.” Erin withdrew her hand and resumed eating with a more relaxed demeanor, apparently satisfied with the exchange.
“So how has your training been going?” Gable didn’t want to come right out and ask about Tim. A part of her didn’t want to hear explicit details about how their relationship was going. But another part couldn’t stand not to know, either.
“Real good. I think I’m catching on okay. I was supposed to get my gear this week, but everything they had was too big. The chief had to special order it.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re such a tiny thing.”
“I hope I can do my part when the time comes.”
“You will. Don’t worry.” Gable reached for another slice of baguette. “So what did you learn this week?”
“Well, let’s see. I did forcible entries with Chief Thornton and Jerry. That was fun. Yesterday Cliff showed me where everything was on the trucks. Today was portable extinguishers and fire inspection practices with Tim. Pretty boring, actually. I’m looking forward to the physical stuff—the ladder drills, seeing what it’s like to work with the hoses.”
Gable nodded. Don’t do it. Don’t. It’ll just eat you up. She shoved aside her better judgment. “Have you been out with Tim again?” She said it as off the cuff as she could, but she held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Yeah, we went to dinner Wednesday. Just to that pizza place in Pine River. It was nice.” Erin shrugged noncommittally. “He’s going to come over next week and help me put a fence up so I can have a garden next year.”
Gable poured herself a second glass of wine. She held the bottle over Erin’s nearly empty goblet. “Care for some more?”
“Please.”
When the glasses were full again, Erin raised hers for a toast. Gable clued in and hoisted hers as well.
“To you and to us. To a very special friendship. Thank you for being there for me.”
“To our friendship,” Gable agreed.
As they clinked glasses, Gable reaffirmed her decision to remain close to Erin regardless of how painful it was for her at times. Erin was absolutely right. They were developing a rare friendship, a special blessing in their lives, and she would do whatever she had to, to preserve it.
They chatted about mundane things as they washed and dried the dishes, regaining the easy familiarity that had seen them through the long night of the twister. Erin didn’t mention Tim again, and neither did Gable.
As Erin dried her hands on the dishtowel, she glanced at the clock on the stove. “You know, Gone with the Wind is on TV tonight. I haven’t seen it in ages.” She looked at Gable with hopeful expectation.
“I haven’t either.”
“Starts in ten minutes.”
“Better go warm up the TV while I make us some popcorn, then.”
Erin shot Gable a big grin and threw the towel at her before heading off toward the living room. She pivoted on her heels at the doorway. “Hey, it doesn’t end until midnight. Mind if I stay over? We can have a slumber party!”
Oh God. “Sure,” Gable muttered, turning away toward the pantry so that Erin wouldn’t see the blush coloring her cheeks. And what kind of dreams will you have tonight with her in the next room?
She remembered then that Stewart was picking her up in the morning, and picked up the phone on the kitchen wall.
Stewart answered on the second ring.
“Hey, bro,” Gable greeted him as she stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave. “Would you be pissed off if we did our weekend getaway another time?”
“No, of course not. Did something come up? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Erin showed up with dinner kind of out of the blue, and we’re going to watch a movie that runs late.”
“Ah. Erin, eh? How are you doing with tha
t?”
“I’m dealing with it. You know what they say. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
“I hate to see you unhappy, Gable.”
“I’m not unhappy. Actually, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, when I’m around her. It’s just very frustrating too.” She kept her voice low, and shot a glance into the living room to make sure Erin couldn’t hear her. She had settled onto the couch and was flipping through channels on the TV.
“Call me if you need to talk," her brother said. "Love you.”
“I will. Thanks, Stewart.”
*
Except for the fact that she wanted to reach out and touch Erin all night but couldn’t, Gable had a great time. They shared popcorn out of a big bowl, sitting side by side on the couch, exchanging trivia about the movie and reciting their favorite lines along with the characters.
She was not at all tired when Rhett told Scarlett he frankly didn’t give a damn, but Erin was fading fast.
“Come on, to the guest room with you, sleepyhead.” Gable got to her feet and extended a hand. Erin took it, and Gable pulled her up.
She felt so light, a slightly firmer tug would have brought their bodies together. The very thought of it made Gable take a step back, letting go reluctantly, memorizing the warmth of Erin’s hand in hers.
She led the way to the spare bedroom and turned down the coverlet. “Would you like a big T-shirt or something to sleep in?”
Erin yawned and stretched. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m fine. Just don’t be shocked if I meet you coming out of the bathroom in the middle of the night. I sleep in the buff. Can’t stand pajamas.”
Oh. Shit. There goes any chance at all of my getting any sleep tonight. “Uh…all right, then. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks.”
As Gable turned to go Erin’s voice caught her at the doorway. “Gable?”