by Gun Brooke
At one point, Deanna felt so cornered she lashed out, wanting to distance herself from Faythe, to go back to the status quo where she felt safe. She hadn’t counted on Faythe’s innate ability to bypass her apprehensions. Why did her smile make Deanna forget everything about her resolve— about my need for self-preservation—and go completely mushy?
The empty streets did little to distract Deanna as she drove through Grantville. The way Faythe hugged her when they said good-bye after their picnic preyed on her mind. Meant only as a hug between friends, it had been like pouring water on a withering plant. Afterward, in her panic, Deanna pulled back quickly, since she knew in her heart that such touches would endanger her peace of mind.
The sweetness of the memory overshadowed any discomfort.
Faythe’s aura of innocence and goodness drew Deanna in. Faythe would never be unfair or unjust about anything; she obviously possessed a strong moral code. This quality should have been reassuring, but instead it made Deanna uneasy. If Faythe ended up believing and siding with the people in Grantville who pegged her as an immoral cradle robber…
Deanna gripped the steering wheel harder. Faythe was practically a stranger to her. It shouldn’t matter what she thought. She had hardened herself against Gloria Mueller and her posse of “ladies-in-waiting” for two years now. Their method of making sure every person who counted in Grantville knew their “truth” made it hard to pretend she didn’t care, but she managed. Now she should be able to jut her chin out and disregard anything Faythe might think of her.
When Deanna considered that possibility, the pang in her chest told her she was kidding herself. What Faythe thought of her was beginning to matter a lot, and ultimately that vulnerability might undo her.
Chapter Ten
Faythe opened the door, a broad grin on her face. “Jeez, can you believe this weather?”
“I can.” Deanna removed her rain coat and looked around. “Where can I hang this so I don’t mess up the floor?”
“Here. Hand it over.” Faythe took the coat and carried it quickly to the mud room on the opposite side of the kitchen. Returning, she noticed that Deanna had placed her rubber boots on the small welcome mat and now stood hesitantly in the doorway to the living room. “I have everything ready. Popcorn, Coca-Cola, unless you’re a Pepsi kind of gal, and extra pillows and blankets.”
“Extra pillows?” Deanna raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me. You need something to hide behind if we watch something scary.” Faythe felt her cheeks flush. “Eh, well, so I’m a chicken.”
“Any thoughts on what to rent?” Deanna sat down on the far end of the couch.
“I browsed the pay-per-view options, and since I’m a sucker for romantic comedies, I looked up their current selection of those first.” Faythe sat down next to Deanna. She supposed she should have opted for the other corner of the couch, but she wanted more physical contact with Deanna. She hadn’t been able to get the quick hug out of her thoughts.
“Romantic comedies?” Deanna flipped through the list of films available. “Not really my cup of tea. What do you think of Bogart and Bacall?”
“As in Humphrey and Lauren?” Faythe wrinkled her nose. “They were brilliant, but the movies are a bit dated.”
“They’re not dated. They never could be dated—they’re classics.” Deanna shook her head. “All right, look here. They have Lawrence of Arabia.”
“God. Another ancient one. How about Love Actually, or that new one, Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day?”
“Let me read the blurbs.” Deanna’s tone wasn’t encouraging, and Faythe wondered if they’d be able to figure out something to watch.
She should have pegged Deanna for being a deep person even when it came to movies.
“Oh, boy. Love Actually is apparently one of those romantic comedies that has barely enough substance to hold it together. What’s with you and these no-brainer romances?” Faythe slammed the popcorn bowl down. “They’re not no-brainers! Love Actually happens to be brilliantly put together with a great message. Miss Pettigrew got fantastic reviews and the actress playing Miss Pettigrew, Frances McDormand, is an Oscar-winning character actress.” Faythe glowered at Deanna, feeling as if her taste in movies had put another nail in the coffin when it came to proving how shallow she was.
“No worries, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just teasing. We like different things, that’s all.”
“So you’re not being snobbish about my taste in movies?” Faythe inhaled deeply and slowly let the air out through her nose.
“Perhaps a bit.” Deanna looked apologetic. “I’m sorry.” Faythe knew a sincere apology when she heard one. “God, Deanna, I’m overreacting. You can pick any movie you’d like. You’re my guest.”
“Actually, I’m curious about this Frances McDormand movie.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” Faythe eyed Deanna suspiciously.
“No.” The short-cropped answer spoke more than any lengthy explanation.
“All right. Next time we’ll watch African Queen or something. I like that one.”
“Or Casablanca. Very romantic.” Deanna winked as she pressed a button on the remote, starting the movie. Faythe reached for the popcorn and moved closer to Deanna so they could easily share the big bowl.
Several times their hands touched by mistake as they reached into the bowl, each time sending tingles up Faythe’s arm.
When it looked like Miss Pettigrew was going to miss out on love, Faythe felt the familiar longing deep inside, genuinely sympathizing with the character in the movie. She leaned her head against Deanna’s shoulder, knowing instinctively that the closer proximity would ease the pain.
“You all right?” Deanna murmured, briefly touching Faythe’s hand in the popcorn bowl.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Faythe grabbed a handful of popcorn.
She didn’t move away from Deanna’s shoulder. It felt too good. The domestic scene was so appealing that she indulged herself, even knowing it was temporary. Rubbing her cheek against Deanna’s arm, Faythe pretended they were a couple. She knew she was being silly, but she had gone without companionship like this for far too long. “This is cozy.”
“Cozy.” Deanna seemed to echo Faythe’s own feelings.
“Yeah. I’ve missed just hanging, just being home doing nothing.”
“Can’t remember the last time I watched a movie with a friend like this.”
“Me either.” Faythe glanced up at Deanna. Her eyes seemed even darker blue than usual, and were her lips fuller too? “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Oh.” A faint tremor in Deanna’s arm concerned Faythe.
“My time to ask. Are you okay?” Faythe slid even closer, placing a hand on Deanna’s knee. “You can tell me.”
“I’m fine.”
Faythe could have perceived the words as a brush-off, but the tone—longing, with a tinge of desperation—kept Faythe from being offended.
“Deanna…” Faythe cupped Deana’s cheek and rubbed her thumb over her cheekbone. “You look very fine to me.” She wasn’t sure where her audacity came from; she had never acted this forward around anyone. It’s not like I’m coming on to her. I just want her to know… what? That I find her irresistible? Or that I’m ready to listen to her if she wants to talk about what’s bothering her? All of the above was probably true. Deanna was on her mind most of the day and visited her dreams at night.
“Thank you.” Deanna’s throaty voice reverberated throughout Faythe’s body, creating unmistakable physical reactions.
She let her thumb slide down Deanna’s cheek and trace her generous jawline to her determined chin. It rested, hesitated, just below her lower lip. Deanna licked her lips, her eyes narrowing as she gazed down at Faythe.
“You play dangerous games.” Her voice was thick.
“I’m not that much into games,” Faythe whispered. Her heart pounded in her chest. “I never win at anything.”
“No?” Deanna kissed her palm. “You seem like a w
inner to me.”
“Nah, just good at keeping up appearances.” Faythe grimaced at how serious the initially flirtatious conversation had turned. “I’ve learned from the best.”
“Your parents?”
“Yeah.”
Amazingly enough, Deanna kept Faythe’s hand in hers. “What did they do? Or didn’t do?”
“They stuck together in what seemed like the perfect marriage until I graduated from high school. The day after graduation, my mother moved to a condo in Manhattan. My father sold our house in the suburbs and moved to Florida.”
“The day after? What about you?”
“I was already signed up to work at a summer camp with kids. My parents assumed I would be cared for there until I went onto college.” Faythe sighed. “And I was. I had a good summer, full of distractions, and learned tons about kids, especially young teenagers. I also learned I wasn’t the only kid from a broken home.”
“Still, it must’ve been a shock.” The understanding in Deanna’s eyes made Faythe want to curl up against her shoulder again and simply be held. She had forgotten all about Miss Pettigrew and focused solely on Deanna’s husky voice and the guarded kindness in her eyes.
“It was. But not as much as the way they’ve acted during the last ten years.” Faythe cringed. Her words sounded so stilted. “I shouldn’t be shocked. I’ve seen worse in the media realm and show business since then.”
“What happened?” Deanna laced her fingers between Faythe’s, sending pleasurable vibrations up her arm.
“They decided to make up for lost time.” Faythe shrugged. “Both my parents began to hook up with multiple partners—some overlapping, some even simultaneous. Though I’m free-spirited, their behavior still bothered me so much that my mother called me a prude in public.” Faythe smiled joylessly. “Imagine living the suburban idyllic existence one week and then having your parents turn into completely different people, dating individuals even younger than you are. When I asked them if my entire childhood and adolescence had been a lie, they admitted it was. It was that important to them to keep up appearances while I was still under age. Once I was on my own, they went through some freaking metamorphosis.” Faythe moved closer to Deanna, seeking comfort in her body’s warmth. Deanna was wearing her trademark knitted gray sweater, and the worn yarn was soft to the touch.
“They have an unusual moral code,” Deanna said. “Parents do things we never thought they would, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m just blabbering about myself. I should be asking you—” Faythe tried to sit up, wanting to look into Deanna’s eyes.
“Hush. You’re fine. Relax.” Deanna held Faythe in place against her side and tucked her closer. “Are you in contact with your parents?”
“Yeah, every week. They do love me, but it’s embarrassing when they’re either on the rebound from a lover ten to twenty years younger, or if they’re caught cheating. Still, my mother is back with Chester, who’s not that much younger. She really seems to like him.” Faythe shuddered. “She wants to spend a few days with me here.”
“With Chester? Could be interesting.”
“Not sure. Probably. Why would that be interesting?” Faythe managed to tilt her head back and was only a breath away from Deanna’s lips.
“You can ascertain if this Chester is made of the right stuff. You’re an interviewer, right? You’re used to reading people, feeling them out.”
“Well…yes.”
“You probably have a really good eye for anyone trying to pull a fast one on you.”
“Usually. Actually, I do have a good eye for people who aren’t on the up-and-up. Good radar, you could say.” Was it her imagination or had Deanna stiffened? Faythe patted Deanna’s thigh reassuringly. “Just like I feel that you’re a good person.”
“You do?” Deanna’s voice sounded oddly strangled.
“Yes.” Faythe moved her hand to cup Deanna’s neck. “And I think I have you pegged as being just like me.” She massaged the tense muscles under the black hair. “Am I way off base to think that you’re a lesbian?”
* * *
Deanna had guessed that Faythe was gay, but hadn’t counted on her directness. I should have known she’d be this up front. She hasn’t been anything but open since I pulled her out of the water.
“No.” Her throat ached too badly to say more. Deanna stared at the unwatched movie still running on the TV.
Faythe slid her hand down to Deanna’s chin and forced her to look into her eyes. “Are you okay with it? I haven’t put my foot in my mouth, have I?” She didn’t see any judgment, only kindness and something that very much resembled desire.
“Yes, I’m all right. I’ve been out for a long time. Just not…eh…dating, right now.”
“Bad experiences?”
“You could say that.”
Faythe caressed Deanna’s jawline, making her shiver. “I’m not dating either. It’s been…let me see… Goodness, it’s been more than a year since I even went to a restaurant or a movie with anyone.”
“Really. You should have a lot of opportunities to find exciting dates, considering the circles you move in.” Deanna couldn’t imagine anyone passing up the chance to spend time with Faythe. But Faythe’s face darkened.
“It can be a pretty superficial world. I get enough shallowness when I deal with my parents.” Faythe sat up and Deanna let her go, straightening up at her end of the couch too.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to imply that you—”
“No, no. It’s all right. I can understand that show biz seems like the proverbial smorgasbord for anyone not in the business.” Faythe’s broad smile contradicted the dark clouds in her eyes. “And I admit, if casual sex was all I was after, I wouldn’t have to look far for a temporary lover. Those days are over for me, though.”
“Just so you know,” Deanna said, then wrapped an arm around Faythe and held her firmly against her shoulder, “the words ‘superficial’ and ‘shallow’ don’t apply to you. I’m a pretty good judge of character—these days.” Deanna clenched her teeth after the last telltale sentence, hoping Faythe wouldn’t latch on to it.
“I…sometimes I wonder,” Faythe whispered. “I messed around a bit in college, after my parents’ divorce, but when I figured out I was mimicking their behavior, I pulled myself together. Still, I did run with the in crowd, and we got into quite a bit of trouble before I saw the light.”
“And when you saw the light?”
Faythe sighed, her body softening against Deanna’s. “I told myself I wasn’t meant to have a relationship. The short ones were unfulfilling, and obviously I don’t have the right genetic makeup for a long-term one.” The wistful tone in her voice belied the casualness of her words.
Deanna wanted to object, but something desolate in Faythe’s eyes stopped her. She disagreed wholeheartedly. No one was more suited for a long, healthy, happy relationship than Faythe. Unlike me. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s way out of my league.
Indulging in a moment of guilty pleasure, Deanna held Faythe as the movie played on. This was more than she could hope for, and she was too spellbound by Faythe to pass up the opportunity.
Chapter Eleven
Deanna cursed her old car, specifically the radiator that was threatening to boil over unless she drove with the heater on max. The warm Indian-summer day made it too hot to risk driving to the neighboring town to buy groceries, like she usually did. She would have to pull on her emotional armor and go into Grantville with its potential whispers and comments. She felt queasy.
The large Stop’n Shop was preferable to the smaller ones in the center of town. In fifteen minutes her old Saab hiccupped and nearly jumped into the parking lot. She stayed in her car for a few minutes, telling herself she needed to make sure the radiator didn’t burst.
Eventually she got out, locked the car, and grabbed an abandoned shopping cart. As she pushed it toward the entrance, she ignored the impulse to pull up the hood of her gray sweatshirt jac
ket.
It was early. Relieved not to see many shoppers, Deanna focused on the list she’d put together last night when she couldn’t sleep. During the three days since she’d spent the evening with Faythe, their interplay was constantly on her mind. But she couldn’t let thoughts of how Faythe felt in her arms slow her down. Deanna moved quickly through the aisles and thought she would escape when she spotted trouble ahead.
Three young women stood at the end of the cereal aisle, blocking her way. Glancing back, Deanna refused to take another route to the cash registers. Instead she jutted her chin out, determined to sail by them.As she approached them, a small blonde spotted her and whispered loudly, “It’s her. It’s Ms. Moore! Savannah!” Savannah turned her head and seemed like she wanted to hide behind her river of black hair. Her deep-set gray eyes looked apprehensive. “Ms. Moore.”
Deanna wasn’t sure if Savannah was greeting her or gasping in dismay.
“Savannah. Ladies.” She was coolly pushing the cart by the girls, when one of them, a tall, gangly brunette, snickered.
“Must be harder to pick up girls when you’re self-employed and nobody wants to talk to you, eh, Ms. Moore?”
“What?” Deanna pivoted and stepped back toward the girls, putting a hand on her hip. “Lara, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Lara looked defiant.
“Care to repeat that to my face?” Deanna spoke in a low voice, knowing how ominous she sounded. Frankly, it was a relief to confront someone rather than have them gossip and snicker behind her back.
Lara glanced at her friends, apparently reluctant to meet Deanna’s eyes. “You know what I mean. After you broke Savannah’s heart, you should have lost your job. It’s not right for a teacher to pull something like that. You used your position.”
As dead wrong as Lara was, she showed more guts and misguided loyalty than any of the grown-ups she’d come across since the incident.