Frosting on the Cake

by Karin Kallmaker

  “That’s okay,” I said automatically, though it was not.

  “Is there an emergency I can help with?” Jacob looked concerned and I suppose I must have seemed to be behaving oddly.

  “No, I just wanted to go home today, that’s all.”

  “Then let me call for a car and driver from the service the Senator uses. I’m sure they will be able to accommodate you.”

  “I could just get an ordinary rental car,” I said. “People do that, all the time.”

  He looked shocked at the thought of someone connected with the Van Allen family in a rental car. “As you wish, madam, but allow me to speculate that the Senator would prefer to know you were safe.”

  “All right, okay,” I said, unable to focus on anything but putting distance between Sydney and me. I’d made such a fool of myself.

  I waited for Jacob to let me know when the car arrived, not doing anything but twisting my hands and feeling completely out of control. I did not like the sensation or myself much at that moment. I hadn’t felt this mired in an emotional pit since my first, disastrous college affair with another woman. That affair had so destroyed my confidence that I’d spent many years afterward being a dutiful Catholic daughter. I had prayed for strength to resist temptation.

  Then I met Sydney and wanted her, though she was my boyfriend’s sister, was wealthier than the Almighty, and boldly setting out in a political career as an open lesbian.

  I sat reliving our first kiss, the first time she had made love to me, the first time I’d watched her eyelids flutter as she dreamed. Jacob’s voice on the intercom announcing the car’s arrival jerked me out of my stupor. It was already half-past noon.

  I truly had no desire except to run, and I didn’t really care how I did it. But when I saw the long limousine that waited in the driveway I wanted to send it away. I didn’t want to get out of Sydney’s life with this kind of extravagant statement.

  Jacob knew me fairly well. He said apologetically, “It was the first vehicle that came available with a driver we’ve used before.”

  I did recognize the driver, which only reinforced the need for security checks that surrounded the Senator and the Van Aliens. All I had ever wanted was for my Sydney, the woman, to be happy, but I had no idea what to do with myself to make it so.

  “Damn,” I muttered, near tears.

  “Are you all right, madam?”

  “Yes,” I lied, and I let the driver usher me into the back of the limousine.

  Just as the long car was inching toward the gate, the driveway was blocked by a speeding taxicab. The ordinary yellow cab screeched to a halt and Sydney scrambled out of the back seat, shouting at Jacob, “Pay him whatever he wants. We made it!”

  I shot a betrayed look at the obviously relieved Jacob and had a moment to wonder if my car was indeed out of service. Then I locked the doors.

  “Faith, open the door. You have to open the door.”

  I wondered how good the privacy glass was as I huddled on the floor.

  “I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

  I’m not a child, I wanted to answer, though I knew I was behaving like one.

  “Please, Faith.” She leaned her forehead on the glass, looking tired and stressed and so unhappy. “Don’t make me beg. I will if I have to. Please.”

  I was creating exactly the kind of scene that she hated. If I was going to leave her I could at least keep the details of the situation private. I unlocked the doors.

  Before she joined me she said to Jacob, “Tell Mary everything is as we discussed.” She shrugged. “Just earlier.” * * *

  The limousine left the Springfield residence of Senator Van Allen at a stately pace. I had no idea where we were going.

  “Look at me, Faith.” I didn’t until she added, “I went to see Litzy this morning.”

  I could only stare, not wanting to listen.

  Her velvet eyes were clouded. “You were right. Half right,” she added quickly. “I should have seen it and I didn’t.”

  I don’t love you anymore. I braced myself to hear it.

  “I didn’t talk to her about this, of course. But if you hadn’t said something I would never have seen that she…that we were in dangerous waters.”

  I don’t love you anymore. I couldn’t breathe.

  “I have never been anything but honest with you.” It was true. “Do you at least believe that?”

  I don’t love you anymore.I nodded and thought I would faint.

  “I could love her.”

  I don’t love you anymore. Her eyes swam with tears and I could not look away from the pain in them.

  “Why wouldn’t I love her? You saw it before I did—I like everything about the way she works, about her dreams, about who she is. She’s vivacious and committed and intelligent.”

  I don’t love you anymore.All there was of life for me was her eyes and her voice.

  “There’s really only one flaw to my loving her. I don’t have any love to give her. In another place and time, in another life or some parallel universe maybe I do love her. But right here, right now, in this life, for the rest of my life,” she said passionately as tears spilled down her cheeks, “I love you. There is no one but you. If I did anything wrong it was looking for something of you in her because I missed you.”

  I had no reply because I couldn’t take it in.

  “You must believe me. Last night—last night when I suddenly thought you couldn’t find a way to tell me you didn’t love me anymore…” Her voice broke and she had to swallow hard to continue. “It was awful. Horrible. It all seemed so empty without you. And this morning, when I realized that you’d been feeling that for days, weeks, maybe longer…I’m so sorry…”

  I had never seen Sydney cry like this. Something between us had broken and seemed gone past reclaiming.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I finally managed to say.

  “Then how did we get here? Why are you leaving me? When Jacob called—Mary hauled me out of a meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. I told her wherever you were going I was going with you.”

  I tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. I kissed her not with desire, but tenderness. “I felt like such a fool. I didn’t need to say anything and I think deep down I always knew you’d never leave me. I just couldn’t stand thinking that your heart would go even if your body stayed.”

  “My heart was never in danger—please say you believe me.”

  “I do.” Part of me knew I had no choice but to believe her, trusting in her honesty and integrity. But I also knew she wasn’t lying to herself and therefore to me. What I saw in her velvet eyes was for me, all of me.

  “What do you want to do now?” She kissed me sweetly, without any other suggestion in her mouth but to comfort me.

  “I don’t want to go to Chicago. Not until I have to.”

  “How does a picnic sound?”

  I felt like an ocean after a storm. The tide of my happiness was familiar again, gently rolling toward the inevitable shore of her love. Though my nerves still trembled with the emotional turmoil of the last few days, the last few minutes, I could both remember and anticipate the return of that calm, loved feeling that had swept over me the moment she had first said she wanted me in her life forever.

  “A picnic sounds fine,” I said.

  “You have to button up,” she murmured. I realized the limousine had just passed through a security gate to what appeared to be Springfield’s small-craft airport. I rebuttoned my blouse with shaking fingers and watched with regret as Sydney pulled down her suit skirt. A slender Lear jet waited for us. I’d been in it once before, courtesy of one of Sydney’s uncles, on the way to a family funeral.

  “Where exactly are we going?”All she had said to the driver was that we were, as she’d said, going on a picnic. Apparently she had had a Plan B.

  She wouldn’t tell me and didn’t seem overly concerned that we had packed nothing. The pilot greeted us with charming efficiency and the next t
hing I knew we were taxiing, then rising into the air. I thought we were turning west, then Sydney unfastened her seat belt and pulled me into her arms.

  “When we get wherever it is we’re going, are we going to be alone?” I kissed the shoulder I had managed to bare, wishing it were her breast.

  “Very alone, I promise.” We necked liked giggling teenagers and snacked from the icebox. I had not eaten anything since the previous night and the can of peanuts we shared reminded me of our first night together when we’d had to raid the hotel mini-bar for something to keep up our strength. Our descent was so gradual I didn’t notice until the pilot radioed that we should put on seat belts if we weren’t already wearing them. A private airstrip was fenced off from rolling hills covered with low, golden grass. The midafternoon sun was hot, but the air was thin. We were in high country where the temperatures would soon turn cool.

  In a matter of minutes the jet had retaken the sky and we were alone on the deserted landing strip with a dented and dinged Jeep. Sydney hopped in and revved the engine with a grin. I had barely settled into my seat before she floored it. We shot down the airstrip at a breathtaking speed.

  She screeched us to a halt at an exceedingly heavy gate, which I managed to swing open, then we tore off again down a potted dirt road. “I haven’t been here since I was a teenager,” she yelled over the roar of the engine. “Screw politics. Screw teaching. Screw living in two separate houses. We’ll figure out something else because I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

  I could only agree.

  After about ten minutes, I saw a large house and outlying buildings in the distance. We didn’t turn onto the road that would have taken us toward them. Instead, we headed toward the notch between two hills. The dirt track bounced us along the back of one of the hills and we began to climb toward a knot of quaking aspens at the top. The thin air made me feel a little lightheaded, but I didn’t mind. The golden grasses swirled as we passed. I felt far away from teaching, books, politics, the media, from everything.

  We were halfway to the trees when four pickups emerged from their shadows, moving at a clip more reckless than our own. Sydney pulled over to let them go by, merely waving at the drivers. They faded into the distance as we went under the shelter of the aspens.

  A red-and-white checkered blanket had been staked out on the ground with a picnic basket at one corner. A cooler promised something cold to drink. Beyond the blanket was a large tent. I’d seen circuses with less room. The flap blew open in the crisp breeze and I spied chairs and a bed complete with pillows and a thick comforter.

  “This is a picnic?”

  “It was the best I could do on short notice.” She killed the engine and it seemed so quiet. The wind rose from the valley below us, rippling over the fields of gold at our feet. It fluttered the aspens’ fanlike leaves and I thought fancifully of angels’ wings.

  “Faith.” I tore my gaze from the vista. She was looking at me with wonder. “We’re alone.”

  “I hear it,” I said. “There’s no one here but us.” Alitza was not here, and my self-doubt was not here either.

  We feasted on the contents of the picnic basket—cold chicken, tossed salad, bread that still felt warm and brownies washed down with lemonade.

  Finally sated for food at least—I gestured at her business suit with the last of my brownie. “You look more incongruous than I do.”

  “Do I?” She’d taken her jacket off even though the temperature dropped with the sun’s progress toward the horizon. She now surprised me by unfastening the cuffs of her blouse. “Good-bye Senator Van Allen. For a few days, at least.”

  I swallowed hard when she unbuttoned the blouse front as well and shrugged it off her shoulders. “Is this better?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  She peeled off her pantyhose, her skirt, everything. Obviously cold, she was glorious as her hair lifted in the wind. I hoped she could feel the heat of my gaze on her. “It’s just me, Faith. You and me.”

  We were alone. I covered her with my warm body, loving the soft curves of her and the way her legs wrapped around me. “Would you like to go inside?”

  “Not yet.” She sighed, her body relaxing under me. “I love the way you feel. I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a while. If I was, I was too busy to notice.”

  She was pliant and responsive, and though we were both eager, we took our time. I learned her mouth again, the curves of her face, the tender flesh of her earlobes, her chin, her throat. We moved slower and slower, treasuring every gesture, every nuance of touch.

  We moved to the bed, eventually, and she removed my clothes to learn my body again. She wanted me, but there was no fever, not this night.

  The wind sighed with me as she spread me over the sheets. Slowly, deliberately, desiring me, savoring the moments before she had me, we stepped out of time and were alone. We had been like this at the first.

  Published: Characters:

  Setting:

  Embrace in Motion

  1997

  Sarah MacNeil, patent attorney

  Leslie Stuart, software startup company vice president

  Melissa Hartley, documentary filmmaker Washington state’s Seattle and Cascade Mountains, California’s Silicon Valley and San Francisco Bay Area

  The Seventh is up, up and Away

  The Singing Heart

  (3 months) It had taken nearly an hour for Matt’s plane to push back from the gate at SFO, taxi, and disappear in the direction of Connecticut, but Leslie wouldn’t leave the airport until it did. As eager as Leslie was for breathing space from her teenager, she would miss him every minute Matt was at his father’s. Sarah waited patiently. She was used to waiting. To date their courtship had had plenty of waiting.

  First they’d spent a pointless six months denying the attraction. All the while Sarah had been foolishly involved with someone else. It wasn’t until she had been unceremoniously dumped by Melissa that Sarah had really appreciated the friendship Leslie offered. They had spent last Christmas together, platonically, but Sarah had glimpsed behind Leslie’s affection and seen passion waiting for her, when she was ready.

  She was ready. Man, oh man, she was ready.

  After fiddling about for a couple of months having “gettogethers” (never dates), not saying what needed to be said, they came to an understanding. Part of the delay had been Leslie’s need to know that Matt, her son, liked Sarah and wouldn’t mind her being a part of their lives.

  “What did Matt say?” Leslie turned from the window with a smile that unsuccessfully hid her sadness at Matt’s departure.

  “Oh.” Matt had beckoned to Sarah just as he went up the jetway. “He said he wanted me to be here when he got back. I still have to teach him to use the longbow. He keeps growing like he has been and he’ll be able to use mine.” It was scary how quickly Matt had shot up.

  They walked through the terminal with their shoulders just brushing. Sarah could smell Leslie’s shampoo.

  She’d never dated a woman with a kid before. It really put the skids on renting a U-Haul. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. Leslie’s need to protect Matt’s welfare was natural, but his presence also added a logistical hurdle.

  “He’s at that age,” Leslie had finally managed to say one day over coffee in her office, “where he’s ready to start fooling around. If we, well, if it’s noticeable, well, I’d think he would think it was permission. I mean, I’ve told him sex is okay as long as he’s safe, but I’m not ready for him. . .” She had blushed beet red. “Do you get this at all?”

  Sarah had said yes, she did get it. At thirteen, Matt was old enough to know exactly what was going on if Sarah was there when he woke up in the morning. And Leslie would not leave him alone at night to come to Sarah’s. They didn’t talk about it very often, only enough to assure each other of their understanding when Matt went to his dad’s for his next visit, they’d get to know each other very, very thoroughly.

  When they reached the parking lot
Leslie started the car, then turned to Sarah. “So where is this surprise dinner?”

  The fragrance of Leslie’s fabric softener teased Sarah’s nose. “The Fairmont. I made reservations.”

  Leslie oohed. “That sounds delicious. And romantic.” She half backed out of the space, then pulled in again. “Only…”

  “Only?” Sarah watched Leslie’s fingers move nervously through her short, curly hair.

  “Well, a heavy meal puts me to sleep.”

  Sarah blinked, then laughed. “Come to think of it, it does me too.” She felt her cheeks stain with color. “Maybe we could go tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe that would be best.”

  “Do you have a Plan B?”

  “No, I hadn’t really…except for, well, after you know.” A babbling idiot, I’m a babbling idiot. She didn’t look at Leslie. If she did she’d scream, “I want to have sex! Lots and lots! Now!”

  “Sarah?”

  “Mm-hmm?” She studied the door lock.

  “Sarah, you know I lived in a commune once upon a time.”

  “Yes.” Leslie’s colorful past was very dear to Sarah. She’d never met anyone like her.

  “We don’t have to wait until after dark, you know. I learned that in my free love days.”

  Leslie was laughing at her. She did that a lot. “I’ve had sex during the day,” Sarah said peevishly.

  “So what are we waiting for?”

  “Well, here and now is okay by me, but I’m going to wipe out my knee on the gear shift.”

  Leslie chuckled. “Let’s just go home. My place. Okay?”

  “Okay. No, wait.” Sarah lifted Leslie’s hand before she could put the car in gear. “I just want to do this.”

  She heard Leslie’s breath catch as she kissed Leslie’s palm. She nuzzled her lips against Leslie’s fingers. Blood pounded in her ears as she flicked the tip of her tongue on Leslie’s index finger, then blew softly on it.