by Julie Blair
“Ready for the best day of your life?” Frank asked.
No one would tell her what they were doing for her birthday. “Wasn’t that yesterday?” Snorkeling in the morning at a pristine beach. She’d seen hundreds of colorful fish and a sea turtle in crystal-clear water. Jac and her parents had joined them after the shopping spree for the parasailing excursion that was Kevin and Karen’s birthday gift. Jac was embracing her new life with gusto.
“Happy Birthday from us.” Susan handed her a package.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” A scarf in ocean shades of blue and green. She put it around her neck and hugged Jac’s parents. They’d made her feel so welcome.
Sliding a beautifully wrapped package across the table, Jac said, “Max wrapped it.”
“Then he won’t mind if I’m not dainty opening it. Oh, Jac, thank you.” She held up the wind chimes and jiggled them. “What beautiful tones. I’ll hang it in Grandma’s garden.”
Jac’s smile looked forced. Something was bothering her. She’d been quiet yesterday, and her playing last night had been stiff and unenthusiastic. What if Jac knew she’d almost kissed her? Best to ignore it. Tomorrow they’d be home.
“Bus leaves in ten,” Frank said, taking dishes to the house.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Liz asked Jac.
“No clue.” Jac gave a fake-innocent shrug.
“Liar. You’ll pay for that.” She started to tickle Jac, in keeping with their running joke about trust and honesty. She stopped. Not today.
*
“What did you say?” Jac realized her mom had asked her something.
“We’re almost there. Are you excited?”
“Very.” Something else she never thought she’d do. They talked about it for a bit, and then her thoughts went back to Liz. She seemed different since Friday night. Since they’d danced. At times Liz was herself, but then she’d drop out of a conversation, or her voice would sound strained or impatient. She seemed distracted when at the piano, and only wanted to play her older songs. When Jac had asked if she wanted to talk about Teri, she’d said “no” in a decisive way that made it clear the topic was off limits.
First birthday without Teri. A major performance in less than three weeks, just days before the anniversary of Teri’s death. That was a lot to deal with. She wanted to help, but Liz was shutting her out. Did Liz know she’d been about to kiss her? Was she upset? She was afraid to say anything, and what was there to say? They’d be home tomorrow, and Liz would be back in San Jose. Seeing less of Liz would be painful, but it would allow her feelings time to settle again.
By design, Hannah was a few minutes behind them. A car pulled in next to them and doors opened. “Surprise!” They all yelled.
“Zip line?” Liz sounded more confused than excited.
“Dad’s part of your birthday present,” Hannah said. “Here, he’s on the phone and wants to wish you Happy Birthday.”
Jac waited by the car, listening to Hannah, who never tired of talking. She was also astute. Hannah had taken her aside last night and asked if she was all right. Then she’d said to be patient, an odd comment. Did she mean give Liz time to get over her birthday? Would everything be okay when they were back home?
“You’re doing this, too?” Liz asked, beside her. She sounded worried.
“I’ve always wanted to.” She’d never dared do things like this when she was performing because everyone was afraid she’d get hurt and ruin her career.
“Is it safe?”
“I’ll make sure I’m strapped in.”
“Funny. What about your back?”
“I’ll know more after the first line.”
“Peggy’s going to want tons of pictures,” Liz said finally.
“Not my job.”
“You’re probably more at risk from me tripping and taking you down with me.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She held Liz’s elbow as they walked over unleveled terrain, everyone chattering excitedly.
After signing releases, being fitted with harnesses and helmets, and listening to general instructions, they set out.
“Who’s first?” their guide asked when they arrived at the first line.
“I am,” Jac said.
“Way to go,” Hannah said.
Her dad slapped her on the back and her mom said, “I’m so proud of you.”
A few minutes later she was dangling in the harness with her feet off the ground. The harness squeezed her thighs, and she felt secure as she bounced in it. She tugged the straps around her chest. Tight. She felt up to where they were attached to a large clamp, like mountain climbers used, she imagined, which was fastened around a substantial steel cable. Her heart was pounding, but in a good way.
“Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times,” the guide said, snugged up behind her.
In her next breath she was falling, an odd sensation of forward movement, bouncing on the cable, wind on her skin. She held tight to the strap at her chest.
In seconds he said, “Lift your feet.”
She did and bounced against his chest as he ran across the landing platform to stop their momentum.
“Perfect,” he said. “You’re a natural.”
When he released her from the cable, she turned in the direction of the cheers and bowed, which brought whistles and more cheers. The voice she searched for yelled, “Great performance, Richards!” Doing this was a thrill. Doing it with Liz was indescribable.
A few minutes later there was a scream as someone came across. Liz. Then feet running on the platform. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! How was it?”
“Better than a standing ovation.” Jac couldn’t stop grinning.
“Your back?”
“Great. Don’t worry about me.”
Liz hugged her and something shifted, and Liz was like her old self. “Thank you for this weekend.”
She couldn’t speak as emotions choked her. So much she wanted to say. The next few minutes were a flurry of cheering and screams as Hannah, Kerri, and her parents took their turns. The rest of the morning was a nonstop sensory assault of zip-lining, hugging, laughing, and talking. Each line was longer. It was exhilarating. When they reached the last line, the guide pulled her aside.
“It’s a double line—two people side by side. Do you want to do it without me?”
“Yes. With Liz.” She could barely contain her excitement as he fitted her into the harness.
“You’re all set,” the guide said after getting Liz hooked on.
“Ready?” She held out her hand to Liz.
“Wait. He’s not—”
“It’s just you and me.”
“But…oh, hell.”
She squeezed Liz’s hand as she lifted her feet. The wind blew hard against her as they fell through space. Liz screamed and Jac joined her. They laughed and squealed, and then, all too soon, they slowed and came to a stop
“Oooohhh!” Liz cried as they fell backward. This line didn’t have a platform, and they would swing back and forth on the line until they ran out of momentum. “Don’t let go!”
“Never.” Tears stung Jac’s eyes, but not from the wind. Today. Tomorrow. Three weeks of rehearsals and then? Monterey would launch Liz into the career she deserved. She’d do the fall tour and then there would be other tours and…Jac screamed, holding tightly, for these few precious moments, to the woman she loved.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Best birthday ever?” Hannah stretched her arm around the car seat and tickled Liz’s calf.
No, her best birthday was the year Teri gave her—“Yes, it is.” No more sadness. Kerri was taking them to what she guaranteed was the best beach on the island. Secluded beach, Hannah had added, rubbing her palms together in that annoying way. Oh, heck, she was tired of being irritated at Hannah.
“It’s certainly been my best birthday,” Jac said, and everyone laughed. She was in high spirits after the zip line. “For my next adventure I’m skydivi
ng.”
“Awesome! I want to go with you,” Hannah said.
“We’re here.” Kerri pulled off the highway onto a tiny dirt parking area.
“I don’t see a beach,” Liz said. More like a wall of jungle.
“That’s why it’s secluded.” Hannah pulled Kerri into a kiss. “Last day in paradise,” she said, popping out of the car.
It was, and Liz planned to make the most of it. Whatever that weirdness was with Jac, it was gone. She’d learned how changeable grief could be—a tornado one moment and vanished the next. Apparently attraction worked the same way. Hormones. A foolish moment.
Hannah and Kerri pulled beach bags and an ice chest from the car.
“I’ll race you to the sand,” Liz said, standing next to Jac.
“You don’t know where it is.”
“Neither do you.”
Jac pointed to her right.
“I know better than to argue with your radar.” Jac’s fingers wrapped around her elbow, and they followed Kerri and Hannah along a trail so narrow they had to walk practically on top of each other. “Careful,” she said, holding back branches so they didn’t slap Jac’s face.
Jac stopped. “Close your eyes.”
She did, breathing deeply, opening her senses beyond the conversation between Hannah and Kerri that was fading as they moved ahead. She’d started this game, wanting to know what Jac’s world was like. Well, as much as possible considering that she could open her eyes and see. Blindness was both disorienting and freeing. Sight was so dominant that it filtered out much of her sensory experience. She liked how its absence amplified other senses.
“I feel cocooned,” Liz said. The warm, humid air was delicious against her skin, like a delicate piece of clothing. “I hear a bird trilling behind me. Branches moving overhead. A car driving by on the road. Something rattling the bushes. I hope it’s not a snake.” She peeked. “And the ocean, faint, and right where you said it would be.”
“Smell?”
“Earthy soil smell. You. Me.” The cocoon tightened around her. Jac smelled like ginger and musk, a new perfume.
“Good,” Jac said, her hand tightening on Liz’s arm, her pulse palpable in her fingertips.
Liz heard the in and out of Jac’s breathing. The sweat-sticky skin of their arms touched. If she turned just a bit, their breasts—She popped her eyes open. Her heart accelerated like a sprinter off the blocks. The cocoon of heat was claustrophobic. “Come on.” She hurried them along the path, their bodies as close as when they’d danced.
Jac stumbled and grabbed her waist. Their knees bumped and their breasts grazed for an instant as she righted herself.
“Sorry.” Liz took forced, deep breaths as she slowed her pace.
When the trail finally widened, Jac stopped. “I don’t know how to thank you for…everything.” She seemed fragile in the midst of this jungle she couldn’t see.
The poignancy of the moment touched Liz’s heart, and the mood changed. She loved Jac’s courage and strength, her willingness to trust and take risks, her thoughtfulness. She hugged her.
“This is the best vacation I’ve ever had,” Jac said.
“You’re teasing.”
“I’m not. Liz, I…I…” She shook her head.
“What about when you were in Greece?” When Jac frowned, she said, “The day we went to the tide-pools, I asked what your favorite beach was. You were there with Maria, weren’t you?”
Jac nodded, looking sad. What must it be like for her to live with memories of what her life had been—fame, excitement, exotic places?
“Come on, let’s make our last afternoon special.” She wanted Jac to be happy.
Jac smiled and everything was right again. Best friends.
“Wow.” The trail ended abruptly at the most beautiful beach she’d ever seen. “Pristine. White—”
“Don’t say any more.” Jac tilted her head as if she was forming a picture of the gently sloping half circle of white sand. The forest that framed it extended down almost to the water on both sides. Secluded was right. The water was shades of turquoise and green, so clear it was like looking through glass.
“Does Kerri know how to throw a beach party or what?” Hannah asked as she and Kerri unrolled a large straw mat under a shade canopy. Hannah wriggled out of her shorts. “Last one in the water gets dunked.” She picked up two sets of fins and a snorkel mask. “You’re my date, Jax.” Winking at Liz she took Jac’s hand and led her to the water.
“Jac’s beautiful,” Kerri said, as they followed them.
“Um, yeah.” Liz didn’t realize she’d been staring at Jac’s legs, specifically at where they disappeared into the swimsuit. She raced past Jac and plunged into the water. When it was up to her shoulders, she put the fins on, falling over only once as she worked her feet into them. After adjusting the snorkel straps, she swam over to join the others in a splash fight. Best birthday ever. Half an hour later she and Jac walked up the beach, jostling each other like kids.
“Water?” Jac asked when they were sitting on beach towels partially shaded by the canopy.
Liz pulled two from the cooler. Champagne and sushi for dinner, courtesy of Kerri.
Jac guzzled water, and chunks of ice slid off the bottle and onto her chest. They slid down between her—
Jerking her eyes away from the two peaks forming in Jac’s suit, Liz was met with the sight of Hannah and Kerri waist deep in the water. Hannah’s hand on Kerri’s breast…Kerri’s head thrown back. They wouldn’t, would they? Right in front of her? She rolled onto her stomach and closed her eyes.
*
“Lizzie’s legs are in the sun,” Hannah said. “Put sunscreen on so she doesn’t burn?” Hannah pressed a tube against Jac’s hand.
“You should do it.”
“We’re going for a walk.” This wasn’t the first time, and it was no mystery what they were doing. It irritated Liz, but Jac envied them.
Liz had been asleep for almost an hour, but she’d stayed awake, too keyed up to nap. On the walk from the car, in the quiet with Liz, their bodies touching, she’d almost blurted out…Thank God she hadn’t. Telling Liz she was in love with her was foolish and pointless. Even though Liz hadn’t talked about Teri since the first day, it was obvious that she was still so much a part of her life.
Hannah and Kerri’s voices faded, and then it was quiet except for the wind moving through the palm trees and the irregular rhythm of the waves. Alone with Liz, she let her mind wander to all the places she wanted to touch her. She should wake her up…Squeezing sunscreen onto her palms, she rubbed them together, trying to get up the courage to touch her. Finally, she laid her palms on Liz’s ankles and lightly, so as not to wake her, spread the sunscreen up her calves. Liz’s skin was hot and the lotion seemed to melt into her. Bits of sand moved under her hands as they traveled up, up…smooth skin, firm muscles, knees, then more muscle and soft skin, soft skin, soft—
“What—that tickles,” Liz said, turning over, slipping out from under Jac’s hands.
“Hannah said your legs were in the sun.” She dropped the container and jumped up. She pushed her feet hard into the sand as she hurried toward the water, hoping there wasn’t a visible wet spot on her crotch. She waded out until her waist was underwater, and then deeper to cover her hard nipples. She dug her feet into the sand and swayed with the current. She wanted Liz so much it hurt.
“Do you want to swim again?” Liz asked.
Jac hadn’t heard her approach. “Just enjoying the water.” The end of the vacation was closing in, and her chest felt tight with impending loneliness.
Squeals and laughter came from the far side of the beach.
“Geez. I wish they’d be more discreet,” Liz said.
“They’re fine.” She forced herself not to reach for Liz, not to pull their bodies together and kiss her.
“Will you think about going out with Cassie? I’ve known her a long time. I wouldn’t trust you to just anyone.”
“I don’t want a relationship.”
“Oh.” Liz was quiet for a while. “Why not?”
Because of you. She held the words captive in her heart. “I like my life the way it is.” Stop asking me questions or I’m going to blurt out the truth and make a fool of myself over another woman I can’t have. She walked back to the beach through the pull of receding waves. Where was the mat? Liz caught up to her and led her to it. She dropped facedown on her towel. Her back would hurt tomorrow and it was rude to ignore Liz, but she needed time to collect herself.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Liz sat at the upright piano in Jac’s parents’ living room, waiting for Jac to get her trumpet. Her skin was hot from too much sun and sticky from the residue of sunscreen she’d had on all day. Her eyes stung from the salt water. Jac’s parents wanted to hear “Carmel Sketches” one last time. Fine by her. It would relax her. She was exhausted physically from the long day, but keyed up and confused over feelings for Jac that wouldn’t hold still. One minute everything was the way it had been between them. Friends. The next, her heart would skip a beat or she’d catch herself staring at Jac’s body in a way she shouldn’t.
Jac slid the mouthpiece onto her trumpet and walked toward the piano. Her skin was sunburned, and she was wearing the fuchsia blouse.
Liz started the song, wondering which improvisation Jac would practice tonight. Ah, that one. A newer one. She was watching her hands, thinking how amazing it was that her left hand felt normal, when Jac’s playing changed. A subtle shift to more vibrato, then long notes as if she was pulling them from some place deep inside. Mournful. Beautiful. She quieted the piano to let Jac have her solo. She was making it up on the spot. Good.
It happened quickly, like a car accident you don’t see coming. Rough, angry notes barked from the trumpet. Liz looked over her shoulder. Jac’s expression was intense, almost a scowl, as if something dark was forcing its way up and out her horn. Liz fumbled a few bars. Jac had changed to a different key, a minor key. She was playing fast and powerful, like a train roaring down the tracks looking for something to run over. Something in her said this wasn’t good, but she could only try to keep up. Jac had never improvised like this—raw and wild and risky, and she didn’t want to embarrass her by stopping.