by Robbi McCoy
“Come on, Lauren. It’s safe. All the kids do it.” She peered through the center of the tire, a mischievous look in her eyes.
“We’re not kids.”
“You’ll love it. When’s the last time you swung on a tire swing?”
“I’ve never swung on a tire swing.”
“You’re kidding! Well, then, you have to do it. Please.” Then, very deliberately, she said, “Do everything.”
Lauren nodded tentatively, then examined the rope and the sturdy looking branch above. “Okay.”
She climbed on the rock she’d been sitting on earlier and tucked herself into the tire, hanging on with both hands to the rope. Cassie held the tire steady until Lauren was ready. Then she pulled it away from the rock. As Lauren’s feet left the earth, she felt slightly panicked and held on tighter. Then Cassie let go and Lauren went sailing over the pond, her toes skimming through the surface of the water.
A spontaneous scream of delight came out of her as the tire rose up on the other side and then rapidly came back down. When she passed by again, Cassie pushed and the tire went even higher this time.
My God, Lauren thought, I’m a forty-seven year old woman in a tire swing! Hooray for me!
After a few such exhilarating passes over the pool, she asked Cassie to stop pushing, and the tire gradually reduced its arc and came to a stop. Cassie pulled it over to the rock so she could climb out.
“Did you love it?” Cassie asked.
Lauren nodded. “I did!”
“I knew I could get you to do it if I quoted Faith at you.”
“You’re a sneaky bitch!”
Cassie laughed gleefully, then climbed into the tire herself and took her turn. Once they had secured the tire back in its tree, they put on their packs and hiked back out. What a magnificent day, Lauren thought. Just like the last few, all of them so fun and carefree, these days with Cassie. She was full of joy and vitality and it spilled over to encompass Lauren, making her feel renewed.
Once they reached the beach, Cassie took hold of her hand and they walked side by side back to the house.
Chapter Thirty-Three
They sat next to one another on the front porch on a wide, welcoming, outdoor sofa, drinking expensive single-malt scotch and watching the sun set on the waves. Lauren’s mind was emptier than it had been in a long time, which felt thoroughly comfortable. The day had left her tired but peaceful.
For minutes, they had been sitting without speaking, watching the glow of daylight fade from orange to red to purple. The sound of the surf was almost out of reach tonight, just a gentle whisper. A cool breeze came skipping up to the bluff and wafted over them. They were both wearing heavy sweaters, sweatpants and socks. Between the clothes and the scotch, there was plenty of warmth.
“That triple cream brie was over the top,” Cassie said. “Completely over the top.”
“Good as ice cream, wasn’t it?”
“Hell, it was as good as sex.”
Lauren smiled. After their long day in the woods, they had ended up snacking for dinner—crackers and brie and some peaches picked up at a fruit stand the day before.
“Your readers,” Cassie observed, “those foodies, they’re living a luxurious lifestyle.”
“Yes, they are. They’re privileged people and, for the most part, they know it. Sort of like us.”
“True. I feel very lucky.” Cassie poured more scotch into her glass. “This scotch isn’t half bad either.”
“Smooth as triple-cream brie,” Lauren said, holding out her glass for a refill.
“This was a housewarming gift. It’s been here since I bought the place, waiting for a special occasion.” Cassie smiled warmly in the dwindling light.
Lauren felt happy, she realized, then wondered if it was the scotch or the company or the ocean or the cool night air that was responsible. This particular type of happiness, a background feeling like soft music, hadn’t come her way in quite a while. But it was familiar from a long time ago and it was the type of happiness she valued most. It was the sort you didn’t notice too much, but when you did stop to notice it, it filled you with a deep sense of gratitude.
Cassie folded her hand around Lauren’s where it lay on the cushion between them. The glow on the western horizon was darkening. The sky was beginning to pop with stars, just a couple at first, but then they appeared by the dozens. Hundreds.
“How many years till you retire and move here?” Lauren asked.
“Too many. I love it here. I don’t want to wait fifteen more years to live here.”
“Fifteen? So you want to retire at sixty?”
“That’s what I’ve always planned on. But lately I’ve been thinking of an alternate plan. I’ve been wondering if I could practice law here. I wouldn’t make the kind of money I can in Albuquerque and I wouldn’t be able to specialize, especially not in gay family law. But maybe I could make enough to live on.”
“If you really like it here, it’d be worth a try. People need lawyers everywhere. Unfortunately.”
The light from inside the house was just enough that Lauren could see Cassie’s serene expression. She pulled Lauren’s hand to her lips and kissed it, then released it and leaned forward to set her glass on the table. The spot where Cassie’s lips had touched her palm tingled. She was feeling hot and fluid inside and slightly light-headed. Enough scotch, she decided.
“I do love it here,” Cassie said. “But I didn’t really want to come here alone. I figured somewhere between buying this place and retiring, I’d find someone to share it with.”
“I’m sure you will.” Lauren was worried by the somber expression on Cassie’s face.
“I feel like I’ve already found her,” Cassie said quietly. “Found her again.”
The way she was looking, so purposefully, Lauren knew what she meant. There was love and longing in her eyes, much more pointed tonight than the minor glimpses of it Lauren had been ignoring up to now. That look transported her ten years back in time to an evening when she’d made a huge, devastating mistake. Cassie leaned closer and reached one hand to Lauren’s face, caressing her cheek. Alarmed, Lauren put her hand against Cassie’s shoulder to stop her advance.
“What are you doing?” she asked, fear welling up in her.
“I thought—” Cassie’s voice was uncertain. “We’ve been having such a good time these last few days. Being here with you, it’s all come back to me. My feelings for you are as strong, stronger even, than they were then. Lauren, I love you.”
Lauren sprang up from the sofa. “No! That’s not what I want. What I need now and what I needed then is a friend. How could you even think—. You know what a huge disaster that was.”
Cassie stood, reached for Lauren and folded her securely in her arms. “Lauren, don’t turn away from me now, not after all the years I’ve spent wondering what we could have had if things had been different. What we could have now. Don’t you see? The gods are smiling on us.”
Lauren pushed her away. “You mean they killed Faith so you and I could be together?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all. Lauren, please—”
Lauren fled into the house and to her room, shutting the door. Then she lay on the bed and sobbed silently.
Part of her wanted to sink into Cassie’s arms and let her take her away, away from her life, away from herself, away from pain, at least temporarily. But another part of her, by no means a small part, wanted none of that, not with Cassie, not with anyone.
To love again seemed impossible and pointless. She’d become accustomed to think that part of her life was over. That part of her was dead. She’d already had her happily ever after.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Just coffee,” Lauren said when Cassie asked if she wanted breakfast.
Cassie spread butter on a toasted bagel. She looked tired and Lauren wondered if she had slept. Lauren sat at the kitchen table and accepted the mug of coffee, taking a tentative sip to test its heat. Cassie brought
her bagel to the table and sat across from her.
“We should talk,” she said pointedly.
“All right.”
“I’ve had such a good time with you this last week.”
“So have I,” Lauren said earnestly. “It’s been really fun.”
“We have so much to offer one another. From the day we met, I felt so close to you. I don’t understand why you’re saying no...to us.”
Lauren met her direct gaze and said, “I just don’t want that. You’re very special to me, Cassie. I love you dearly and I was so grateful to think I could have you back in my life. As a friend. Sometimes you need a friend more than a lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover ten years ago either. We totally screwed that up then and I didn’t want it to happen again, not now that we’ve been given a second chance.”
“But everything’s different now, Lauren. I know you have feelings for me. You always have. You can’t tell me otherwise. I feel like I know you as well as I know myself. And now there’s nobody to hurt. You’re right. We’ve been given a second chance.”
“At friendship,” Lauren insisted.
“No.” Cassie shook her head. “That was never a possibility for us. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now. I can’t be just friends with you. You should know that. We tried that once and we failed. This last week, there’ve been so many times I’ve felt like taking you in my arms and kissing you. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to me. I thought you were feeling that too. I mean, the only reason I waited this long was out of respect for your sadness. But you’ve seemed very happy the last couple days. It’s been great, hearing you laugh so much.” Cassie sighed and shook her head. “The way you look at me sometimes—I just can’t believe you’re not feeling what I’m feeling.”
Lauren lowered her eyes, breaking away from Cassie’s intense, challenging stare, and looked at the steam coming off her mug.
“I think you’re still feeling guilty,” Cassie said. “Feeling that if you allow yourself to love me, you’ll somehow be betraying Faith, like before. You’ve never gotten over that.”
“I don’t really think that’s it.” Lauren spoke quietly without looking up.
“Then why won’t you give us a chance?”
“I just don’t want a relationship. I don’t feel that way this time around.” Lauren met Cassie’s eyes. “I admit I did feel that kind of attraction once. But I got over it. I want you as my friend. I really, really want that, Cassie.”
Cassie shook her head. “I’m afraid that just isn’t possible. And, frankly, I think you’re deluding yourself.”
After a couple minutes of silence, during which Lauren continued staring helplessly at her coffee mug, Cassie said, “I think you haven’t given her up yet. You’re holding on, trying to preserve your life with her.”
Lauren felt tears coming to her eyes.
“She wouldn’t approve,” Cassie said. “You know what she said. Take both. Do everything. She was all about living life to the fullest.”
Choking back sobs, Lauren said, “I’m doing my best to go on with my life.”
Cassie got up and came to her, putting an arm around her gently. “I’m sorry I upset you,” she said, squeezing Lauren’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s been very hard. I didn’t mean to push you. I’ve waited for ten years already. I can wait a little longer. We can take this very slowly, as slowly as you need to.”
She kissed the top of Lauren’s head like a big sister while she cried. “No third-date U-Hauls for us, hey?” she said, attempting a joke.
“Cassie, I don’t want to stop loving Faith.”
Cassie wiped a tear off Lauren’s cheek. “Nobody expects you to. You don’t have to.”
Struggling to regain her composure, Lauren pulled away and said, “I think this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
She got up and left the kitchen, heading to the guest room. She pulled her suitcase out of the closet and opened it on the bed, then removed her clothes from the dresser. Cassie brought her a fresh cup of coffee and wordlessly set it on the nightstand, then withdrew, hesitating in the doorway. “We could be so good together,” she said softly.
Lauren stiffened, but didn’t turn around to look at her. She heard Cassie walk away. She wasn’t going to try to persuade her to stay, for which she was grateful. It wouldn’t work, anyway. Cassie probably knew that.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lauren walked out to her driveway in her bathrobe to pick up the Sunday newspaper, which was sheathed in plastic to protect it from the rain. There was a light drizzle misting the plants with a fine, dewy layer. The roses looked especially pretty with beads of moisture on their velvety pink petals.
As she turned back toward her door, she saw Jaspar standing in his driveway, grinning, hunched slightly, the hood of his rain jacket framing his lined face. “Morning,” he said heartily.
“Good morning.”
“When did you get back?” he asked.
“Two days ago.”
“Have a good trip?”
“Yes, it was very productive.”
“Productive, was it?” He laughed. “Not romantic? You didn’t run off to meet some secret lover?”
“No, nothing like that. It was a research trip.”
“Still saving yourself for me, I guess.”
She walked past him toward her door. “Yes. You’re the only man in my life, Jaspar.”
He chuckled. She shut her door and slipped the paper out of the wrapper. No wonder he hadn’t noticed she was home. She had been practically hibernating since her return. Leaving Cassie had left her hollow inside. As feeling returned, it came in the form of a familiar background pain that she had been holding at bay for some time. She was both sorry and glad to feel it seeping back into her life. It was what she had left of Faith now, a deep ache. So she had embraced it, spending the last two days doing what some would describe as wallowing in self pity.
Today she’d resolved to do better. She got up early and would spend the day getting back on track. This was the day she had planned to come home all along. Jim would be coming over later to return Cocoa. Emma wanted to come over and look through more of Faith’s papers. She was scheduled to arrive at ten.
The last two days Lauren had done nothing at all. She hadn’t heard from Cassie. She hoped she wasn’t feeling similarly bereft.
She did think occasionally about Cassie’s offered explanations for why she wasn’t able to accept her as a lover. She was clinging to her life with Faith. She was still being faithful to her. Loving Cassie still made her feel guilty. Explanations like that, frequently given in books and movies, were inadequate for real life. The complexity of human emotions can’t be summed up so tidily, although we all try, endlessly, to sort, label and file everything, to make sense of our actions.
Putting feelings into words is a way of managing them, but Lauren knew from experience that it didn’t work. She had tried to do that before, ten years ago, when she had pigeonholed her feelings for Cassie—I love her like a sister. She had momentarily satisfied herself that this was true, allowing herself to continue to love. But the feelings wouldn’t conform to the words. They had their own motives which were hidden and impervious to reason. She hadn’t been able to control or deter them.
As she thought about why she’d run from Cassie, what the real reason was, she felt too many mixed emotions to explain it. It wouldn’t change anything anyway, finding a label that fit. All she really knew was that something in her had led her to reject Cassie’s love. The sadness that resulted was as complicated as the feelings that preceded it. Grief, that’s what it was. She had become accustomed enough to grief to recognize it. One thing she’d noticed about it is that it never equates to a single loss. It brings with it every loss you’ve ever had. Every heartbreak and every death comes through your heart like a slow procession of mourners behind a casket, all linked solidly together. There was no way to tell what percentage of this despair was because of Faith or Cas
sie or her father or her little dog Snicker who got hit by a car when she was nine. The tears she had cried during the last two days were for all of them, perhaps even equally.
Grief, like love, was too convoluted to fathom.
After a cup of coffee and a quick scan of the paper, Lauren cycled through the photos she’d brought back from her trip. Pictures of olive oil, cheese, wine and bread flashed by on her computer monitor. She was impressed with the quality of the photos, better by far than what she normally had to work with. There would be no problem this time finding really good shots to include with the article. On the contrary, the problem would be winnowing her choices down to just a couple. Who knew, she thought, staring at one of the shots, that a hunk of Stilton could be so beautiful?
There were also photos of the ocean, Cassie’s house and Lauren, captured at joyful moments. Lots of joyful moments. We did have fun, Lauren thought. She was really a very lovely woman. It had been so easy to fall in love with her once, all those years ago. But Lauren had used all her resources, then, to smother that love. There was no ember left to rekindle.
She approached her work ruthlessly this morning, determined not to dwell on matters of the heart, joyful or sad. After looking through the photos, she began to compose the text of her article. As she got more involved in writing, she began to feel better, began to forget about herself and her debilitating emotions.
By ten, she was able to greet Emma with a smile and a cup of coffee. Emma didn’t stop to chat, but went right to work in the den, and Lauren returned to her own work in the family room. An hour later Emma went through to the kitchen to return the empty mug.
“How’s it going?” Lauren asked.
“Very well.” She stopped near Lauren’s chair. “There’s a lot of material. And quite a few unpublished articles that seem very polished to me. I wasn’t really expecting that.”
“Faith was very good at writing everything up. Actually, I helped her with a lot of those articles, but she wasn’t good at following through with the business side of things.”