by Jane Hardee
“I’m excited to see her too. I feel like it’s been forever. Is she still remodeling?” Jess wrinkled her nose and giggled.
Annabel was a compulsive redecorator. She never felt satisfied with a room for long, and even if she did, she would find another room to tackle. Michael labeled it empty nest syndrome, since the obsession with remodeling began not long after she left for college. Michael had visited as often as her busy school schedule would allow, and every time she did, sure enough there was something different. A room would change color, or the furniture would be different. Annabel had redecorated nearly every room in the house at one time or another. Except Michael’s room. She told Michael that was too precious to change.
“I think it’s the dining room this time. The walls were red, but she says red dining rooms are a thing of the past,” Michael said, using her best Southern belle voice.
“Oh, I adore her.” Jess stretched back against the seat, fingertips grazing the roof of the Scout. Michael imagined those fingers running down her belly, unbuckling her belt, and stroking her.
“Tired?” Michael asked, forcing her eyes back to the road. Turning onto Glenwood Avenue, Michael was again thankful that she was wearing sunglasses so Jess wouldn’t notice her eyes wandering.
“Yes. Isn’t that ridiculous? On weekdays, I would have been up for two and a half hours by now. I swear my body knows to relax when it’s Saturday.”
Body. Her body. Those legs. Her thighs. Stop it, Michael!
Michael cursed when she realized that she had missed the ramp to the interstate that would lead them out of Atlanta. It’s going to be a long, long weekend.
*
They arrived in Dogwood Bluff around one thirty, having only stopped for cinnamon rolls at the legendary Nathan’s Sweets in Andersonville. The trip was made mostly in silence. Jess loved that she didn’t feel pressured to speak. Michael had never been a big talker, and when they were together Jess was relieved to know that Michael would understand her silence. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t tense. Just quiet.
Although the quiet had been soothing, reading every road sign and billboard to keep from staring at Michael’s body was taxing after a while. Once on Briar Road, and passing their old high school, Jess allowed herself to glance over. Michael looked confident: one hand draped over the steering wheel and the other resting on the gearshift. It had never occurred to Jess how sexy Michael looked while driving. There was something so seductive about a woman taking control of a vehicle. Michael took pride in any car she drove, taking good care of it and near caressing the instruments as she drove. Was that what Michael would be like in bed? Gentle and slow, caressing each part of Jess…and taking her time? Or perhaps she would be rough and uninhibited. Taking what she wanted without hesitation. The idea of Michael taking charge sent a chill through Jess, all the way to her scalp.
Back to reading the ads for gas stations and fast food, Jess regained control. Minutes later, lifting her eyes to the bright pink crabapple trees that lined Springs Street, Jess realized they were almost home. Home… How inappropriate it would be for Jess to explore any attraction to Michael in her childhood home, but how was she ever going to get through the weekend? Jess closed her eyes and leaned against the window.
As Michael turned down the dirt road that led to Annabel’s house, Jess felt more at peace. She loved Atlanta, but there was something calming about Dogwood Bluff. Jess rolled down her window and inhaled the sweet country air, its scent a combination of plowed fields, roadside weeds, and thick summer air. It was hot and humid, but the country air felt like a much-needed balm.
In the distance she could see the house coming into view. As a teenager, Jess often envied Michael’s childhood home. It was old, but beautifully maintained, and homey on the inside. Jess had lived in a cramped duplex with her mother and sister and always longed for more space and land. It seemed silly to her now that she had ever felt envious, as she spent as much time in Michael’s house as she had in the tiny duplex.
The front of the house was full of large picture windows, and there was a wraparound porch on the first and second floor. Oak leaf hydrangeas lined the porch on both sides of the wide steps, as well as a number of hanging plants and ferns. Wicker furniture crammed the first-floor porch and a large swing hung from old rusty chains. There was also a comfy swing on the second-floor porch near Michael’s bedroom, where as teenagers they had spent hours talking and laughing.
Several acres of land surrounded the house, and Southern live oak trees dotted the front and back yards. Annabel’s nearest neighbors were over a mile away, which made the house seem even more secluded and peaceful. The house was pale yellow, and the small barn in the back was red with classic white trim. Michael’s father had built the barn before he died of a sudden heart attack. Michael had only been a few months old and never talked about her dad.
Jess’s favorite thing about Michael’s childhood home was the large tire swing hanging from a live oak beside the house. Some of the enormous branches nearly touched the ground, and it took little rope to suspend the swing when she and Michael had put it up in the eighth grade. She spent many afternoons swinging on the tire while Michael leaned against the strong oak trunk, sketching or painting. Jess longed for the picture-book simplicity and ease of those days, swinging in the evening breeze and waiting for the fireflies to tell them when it was time to go inside.
“There’s Mom.” Michael jumped from the car almost before she had it in park and raced to the porch to greet Annabel. She hugged her mother, picking her up off the ground. Michael had certainly not gotten her height from Annabel, who was shorter than Jess and much slenderer. Jess liked how Annabel wore her hair, clasped at the nape of her neck: the need for a simple and functional hairdo was something Michael inherited from her mother.
“There’s my Jessica.” Annabel came down the steps and wrapped her in a tight “mom hug.”
“Cricket!” Michael yelled as the bloodhound bounded down the steps and nearly knocked her over. “Missed you, boy.” Michael swatted at the big goofy dog as he tried to catch her hand. He finally gave up and rolled over on his back at her feet. Michael sat right down in the dirt to pet Cricket’s belly.
“Michael, get out of that dirt, or I’ll tan your hide. Get the bags. I’m taking Jess into the house for sweet tea,” Annabel said, as she grabbed Jess’s hand and led her up the steps, where the smell of home-cooked biscuits and apple pie greeted her.
“Jess, tell me, how are your students? How is Sara?” Annabel walked down the long entry hall that led to the kitchen in the rear of the house. Even in the summer, Annabel left the doors open so the interior hallway filled with sunlight.
Jess walked slowly down the hall, allowing Annabel to pass so she could examine the pictures crowding the walls. No matter how many times Jess came to Annabel’s home, she couldn’t help but look at the memories. So many pictures of Michael, as an infant, then a young child. Annabel had cataloged and photographed most of Michael’s childhood. While Michael’s bookshelves were stuffed full of old sketchbooks, Annabel’s walls held too many pictures to count. Some of them were of Michael and Annabel together, but most were solitary shots of Michael.
Farther down the hallway was Jess’s favorite. Michael was about sixteen and had just gotten her driver’s license. She leaned against the porch railing in front of the house with her hands in her pockets and wearing a cocky grin. Jess had taken the picture and Annabel asked for a copy. Jess kept the same picture, framed on her desk at work. It captured everything about Michael that Jess cherished. Her confidence, her strength, her beauty.
“Would you like a little lemon, dear?” Annabel called to her from the kitchen.
Jess continued down the hallway. “Yes, thank you.”
*
Jess felt more relaxed than she could remember feeling in weeks. Michael and she walked the grounds with Cricket at their heels and relived old memories. Jess was surprised and happy that her recent sexual thoughts didn’t
make her feel awkward. Jess felt just as comfortable with Michael as always. Being in Dogwood Bluff made everything seem familiar and natural.
Annabel soon put Michael to work with chores and repairs, as she usually did on the first day of their visits home, and Jess suspected Annabel wanted to keep her busy so Michael didn’t hover while she was cooking. Running her kitchen was serious business, and she didn’t appreciate interference. If Michael couldn’t sample dinner early, she would wander around looking for something to do anyway.
Jess sat back with Cricket on the second-floor porch swing and watched Michael repair a broken slat on the fence next to the barn. She tried to convince herself she had chosen to sit on the upper porch because of the view of the sunset, but soon her mouth went dry as Michael stood to stretch her back. Grabbing the neck of her T-shirt, Michael pulled it up over her head and slung it over the fence, leaving her in a tight gray tank top. Even at a distance, Jess could see the well-defined muscles of her arms and chest, and the setting sun casting a golden halo on her sweat-dampened skin. Jess never fantasized about cowboys, but in this setting she found herself imagining Michael wearing weathered boots and a cowboy hat…and trying to break a bucking stallion.
“I hope you remind her to stop and smell the roses, dear.”
Jess nearly jumped when she realized Annabel was by her side on the porch.
Jess coughed into her hand, attempting to hide her surprise.
Annabel wiped her hands on a dish rag. “You know Michael, always on the go.”
“She doesn’t stop.” Jess forced her eyes higher to observe the orange and red clouds of the sunset. “Such a great view. I love it here, Mrs. Schafer.”
“Dinner will be ready shortly.”
CHAPTER TEN
After dinner Michael leaned back in her chair with her fingers laced behind her head. If she had to deny her sexual hunger, at least she could satisfy her appetite for great Southern food. The country fried steak, deviled eggs, and sweet potato casserole had distracted her from the thoughts of Jess that had been occupying her mind for the last week. Or the last fifteen years. Although there were times when she didn’t think about Jess. After all, she was still able to work and pay her bills, to function in society. It was just when her mind wasn’t on something important that it wandered to Jess. Or when she was between activities. Or when she saw something that reminded her of Jess. Who am I kidding? Pathetic.
“Thanks for the meal, Mom. It’s good to be home.”
“Wonderful, as usual.” Jess carried her plate to the sink. “I still don’t know how you can make such an incredible meal without any recipes, Mrs. Shafer.”
Michael found it both odd and endearing that Jess still called her mom Mrs. Shafer. After years of trying to get Jess to call her by her first name, Annabel had finally given up and even began signing her cards and letters to Jess with “Mrs. Shafer.”
“Practice makes perfect, my dear. I’m sure you two can manage the cleanup.” Annabel left them and waltzed happily out of the kitchen. It had been a rule in their home as long as Michael could remember that the chef never did the dishes. When Michael was about ten years old, Annabel had made a habit of leaving the kitchen as soon as a meal was over.
“You wash, I rinse?” Michael gathered the rest of the plates and headed to the sink.
“Deal,” Jess said, filling the sink with water.
They fell into a familiar rhythm of washing and rinsing, as they had done countless times before. Relieved that rinsing dishes was an easy and dull task, Michael relaxed until she watched soapsuds slide down Jess’s delicate wrist to her fingertips. Then she imagined Jess bathing in the antique clawfoot tub upstairs.
“Oh, and Michael dear…” Annabel called from the living room.
Nothing like her mother’s voice to snap her from an arousing thought. “Yeah, Mom?”
“I’m repainting the guest room, and all the furniture is covered and out of place, so you and Jess will need to stay in your room.”
Michael dropped a fork she had been rinsing.
“Okay.” Shit.
“I put some extra blankets in there. You know how cold it can get.”
This could not be happening. She was looking forward to a night alone in her bed where her thoughts could torment her in solitude…and if need be, she could handle things herself.
“Just like old times, huh?” Jess joked, bumping Michael with her hip.
“Yeah, just like old times.”
*
Jess stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She had enjoyed the start of their weekend vacation, she felt relaxed and at home, and she had finally been able to force work from her mind. Everything was going wonderfully…except for the fact that she and Michael would be sharing a room, and a bed, for the weekend. Sure, they had slept in the same bed before many times when they were younger—but that was before…the kiss.
Their friendship was forever altered, and Jess knew she wanted to explore the new turn it had taken, but this was not the time. Their short vacation in Dogwood Bluff was supposed to be restful and relaxing. Jess looked forward to this time away all year long, and she knew Michael did too. Michael had been stressed lately, and Jess could tell. She seemed on edge. When they went out with friends, Michael was the last one to arrive and the first one to leave. They were seeing each other less than usual, and Michael seemed withdrawn. Maybe it was La Femme. Maybe Michael was trying to hide her nervousness from Jess.
The timing was off, not to mention the setting. If Jess was serious about moving their friendship to a more intimate level, she wanted it to be in a private setting. This was Michael’s childhood home, and her mother would be close enough to overhear them in bed.
Stop it, Jess. Just stop it.
Her earlier comment about old times had been an attempt to calm her own nerves at the news that they would be sleeping together. Standing near Michael while doing the dishes, she had noticed a slight increase in her pulse. How was she going to be next to her all night long?
Rinsing her mouth with water, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. This is not the time or place for…exploring. Just act natural. Easier said than done.
Rummaging through her toiletries, Jess found her body lotion. She glanced down at the label: Sensual Cinnamon. Had her subconscious packed that? She should have brought her unscented, ultra-healing lotion. Jess grabbed her nightshirt, glancing at the full-size bed. She slept in a queen-sized one at home and knew that the bed at Michael’s loft was a king. Shaking her head in frustration, she pulled open the door and walked from the room, wondering how she was going to survive.
*
After finishing the dishes, Jess had excused herself to shower and get ready for bed. Thankful for a few moments alone, Michael headed to the den for a drink. Her father had always kept brandy in the den by the fireplace, and after his death, Annabel kept up the tradition. Brandy was not Michael’s favorite drink, but tonight it would have to do. After pouring a healthy amount into one of the heavy crystal tumblers, Michael sat in a wingback chair next to the fireplace and leaned back. Cricket left his bed by the doorway to sit at Michael’s feet, resting his chin on her knee. His big brown eyes seemed to sense her unrest. Her childhood home was one of the few places where Michael always felt at peace, so the fact that she felt edgy was frustrating. This was supposed to be her fucking vacation.
Could she sleep on the couch in the living room? And how would she explain that to Jess? It wasn’t like Annabel would let that fly anyway. She had said they would share Michael’s room, and so it would go. Michael knew better than to argue with her mother.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Jess walked into the room in a faded gray FSU T-shirt, threadbare from years of wear. The outline of her nipples was visible through the thin fabric. A pair of pink terrycloth shorts left most of her thighs bare. Michael’s eyes moved over Jess’s body and stopped to take in her dark brown hair. Michael wondered if it was as soft and silky as i
t looked. Cricket felt drawn to Jess too and hadn’t left her side almost all day. This evening was no exception as he left Michael and trotted over to Jess, hoping for some of her attention.
“Is something bothering you?” Jess plopped down in the matching chair across from Michael’s and folded her legs under her.
“No.” It was difficult for Michael to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak when all she could think about was Jess’s legs. “Just sorry for any inconvenience.”
“Oh, come on, sleeping with you isn’t an inconvenience.” Michael could see Jess hiding a smile behind the curtain of her hair.
Michael gripped her crystal tumbler. Was she imagining the innuendo in that statement? Or the sexiness of the delivery? They often joked around, but never in a sexual manner. Camille said she thought Michael and Jess were the only two lesbians in the world that didn’t talk about sex. A stab of jealousy came when she thought of Jess discussing sex with anyone.
Jess picked up one of Annabel’s redecorating magazines and began to flip through it. “What about Jacob’s Cove tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe your mom will make some of that amazing chicken salad, and we can go on a picnic.”
“Sounds great. I’ll ask her. We are running some errands tomorrow, but Mom said to tell you to stay in bed until at least ten. She says you need the rest.” Michael was grateful for any distracting conversation.
Jess caught Michael’s eyes and smiled again. A stunning smile that showed her top and bottom teeth and lit up her entire face.
After several minutes of companionable silence while Michael counted and recounted the flowers on the rug, the grandfather clock across the room chimed.
“Eleven already. I’m such an old lady, but I can hardly hold my eyes open.” Jess stood and stretched her arms over her head.