Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Bridgette stopped her dinner preparations and cocked her head, staring at Tory thoughtfully. “I’ve bounced around the New York and Boston area for about fifteen years. When I realized I was ready to settle down, I wanted something quieter, smaller, with a tight community of friends.” She smiled at Tory. “I think I’ve found that here in Cherokee Falls.”

  Tory shifted nervously from one foot to the other, crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands in her armpits.

  Bridgette laughed. “Relax. My version of settling down is getting serious about my painting and teaching. I’m not looking to set up housekeeping with anyone.”

  Tory was embarrassed that her body language was so easy to read.

  Bridgette set plates, cloth napkins, and silverware on the table, then added two candles and lit them. She walked over to Tory and pulled her close, resting her arms on Tory’s shoulders. “You’re handsome and fun and sexy, not to mention a great lover even when you’re drunk.” She gave Tory a soft kiss. “But I’m really hard to live with. I teach part-time so I can play loud music and paint all night if I’m inspired to do so. One thing that attracted me to you was that you have an established life already and aren’t driving around with a U-Haul behind your truck like a lot of lesbians.”

  She kissed Tory again, this time with meaning, and pressed their hips together. She smiled when they finally pulled back. “Did I mention that you’re very sexy and a great lover?”

  “I have a bad memory. Maybe you should repeat it frequently.”

  Bridgette laughed and moved back to the kitchen area and rummaged through a drawer. She located a corkscrew and handed it to Tory, along with a bottle of chilled wine. “I’ll see if I can do that, but only if you promise to refresh my memory on a regular basis.”

  Tory went to work on the wine while Bridgette located some glasses. She looked up after a moment. “So, you don’t think you’ll ever live with a partner, wedded bliss and all that?”

  Bridgette sat down at the table and accepted the glass of wine Tory poured for her. She took a sip, savoring it, then sat back in her chair. “After I graduated from art-and-design school in New York, I traveled with a classmate. We had been lovers for nearly a year. We went back to her home in Tibet, where I studied for another year in a monastery. I learned a lot more about life there than I did Eastern art techniques. The monks teach that each person has a road to travel in life. Your life will intersect in many places with many people. When you’re at the right point in that journey, you may find that your road has converged with another’s. The mistakes we make in life happen when we try to veer from our destined path to avoid or force an intersection or a convergence with another’s path.”

  She looked at Tory, the candlelight flickering across her face as dusk dimmed the room around them. “I hope I experience a committed relationship before I die. But I’m not looking for it. It will happen when it happens.” She raised her wineglass and held it toward Tory. “Until then, I intend to enjoy the intersections in my life. And you, my handsome veterinarian, are something to enjoy.”

  Tory raised her glass and touched it to Bridgette’s. “To enjoyable intersections.”

  They both took quick sips of their wine.

  “Now, you promised to tell me the story of the demented grandmother and her shotgun,” Bridgette said as she filled her plate.

  The conversation flowed easily as they ate. Bridgette was a good listener, asking questions in the right places until she had pried loose the story of Tory’s first trip to the Montgomery farm and the weekend trip to Chincoteague. Tory carefully omitted, however, the intimate moments between her and Leah.

  Bridgette asked about Tory’s family, Tory’s friendship with Skyler, and how Jessica and Skyler became a couple.

  When they finished eating, she offered to give Tory a grand tour of her new loft apartment. Tory had seen the open area that held the kitchen, living room, and dining area. She was curious, however, to see where the storage space was built in this kind of place, and which glass wall hid Bridgette’s studio area.

  They never got past the bedroom. This time, Tory concentrated on Bridgette’s pleasure. She touched her and kissed her in all the right places, bringing her to orgasm twice before she finally let Bridgette slide down to reciprocate. To her dismay, when she closed her eyes and concentrated on the waves of pleasure Bridgette’s tongue was coaxing from her clit, she envisioned Leah’s face between her legs and Leah’s hands holding her thighs apart as her orgasm swelled and washed through her.

  After the last spasms abated, Tory tugged Bridgette up to lie beside her. But she caught Bridgette’s hand when it crept downward again. “Nuh-uh. I’m only good for one a night when I’m sober. Too sensitive.”

  Bridgette relented without question and instead curled herself against Tory’s side. Tory was relieved that Bridgette didn’t argue.

  It wasn’t long before Bridgette’s deep, even breathing indicated she was asleep. Rest didn’t come so quickly for Tory. She thought about her road in life. She thought about MG and Leah’s Gram. Had their paths come full circle to finally converge? She knew she should call Leah and arrange to take her and Gram out to Greyson Estates. But she had put it off because Leah would leave as soon as Gram’s affairs were settled. How long after she was gone would Leah continue to haunt her intimate moments with other women?

  *

  The next morning, Bridgette brewed coffee and made Belgian waffles while Tory showered. It was Saturday, so Bridgette had softball practice later that morning and Tory had paperwork and laundry to do at home. But there was no hurry. They ate in companionable silence, sharing sections of the morning paper. It felt comfortable.

  Bridgette insisted she would wash the dishes later, taking Tory’s hand and leading her around the massive fireplace to another open area. Blank canvases were stacked against the wall, as well as some completed paintings. Several easels held works in progress, and a table in one corner of the room held a large clay sculpture and a variety of carving tools. The sculpture also was a work in progress, but the head and shoulders of Long Shot, caught in that moment of indecision, had emerged from one end of the clay block. The sketch Bridgette had made at the farm was tacked on the wall nearby, as well as different variations of the drawing from other points of view.

  “Wow. I knew you sketched and painted, but I didn’t know you sculpted, too.”

  “Working in different media is a challenge. It keeps me from getting bored.”

  “This is going to be wonderful. I’m no art critic, but you seem to be very talented.”

  “Thank you. I enjoy my work. That’s the most important thing. I love the smell of fresh paint and wet clay. I love seeing things come to life under my hands.” They were quiet for a moment. “Tell me what you enjoy about your work, Tory.”

  Tory’s mouth curled with the beginning of a smile, her eyes drawn back to the sculpture. “I love working outdoors, the smell of fresh hay and horses. I don’t show much any more, but I grew up on horseback. I like delivering foals and seeing them mature into beautiful, powerful animals.” She laughed. “Skyler says we must have been horses in a past life, that’s why we still seek their company.”

  “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  Tory shrugged. “I was raised Catholic, but I often think it must be a small piece of the big picture. I don’t really dwell on it much.” She pointed to a carefully penned quote taped to the wall among the sketches.

  “The thing is to find a truth which is true for me…”

  “Another piece of philosophy you learned in Tibet?” she asked.

  “No. It’s from a Danish existentialist. It’s just something to ponder while I work.”

  “It would make my brain hurt to have all those deep thoughts all the time.”

  “It balances out being a natural blonde and an artist. You know, a ditzy Bohemian.”

  Tory laughed. “After getting to know you, I’d never describe you as ditzy.”

  “
Admit it, though. When you asked me out that first time, it wasn’t because you thought I could discuss the true meaning of life.”

  “I asked you out because you’re very sexy. Is that wrong?”

  “Hmm. Not where you’re concerned. I’d love to explore those more animalistic impulses, but,” Bridgette looked at her watch, “I’ve got to hurry or I’ll be late to practice.”

  “And I’ve got two weeks of laundry waiting for me at home. I’ll walk out with you.”

  *

  Leah visited Long Shot several times, the little mare following her like a puppy but still shunning the other horses in the pasture. She tried to research club feet in horses but decided it was just a crap shoot as to whether Long Shot would pass her bad gene to her offspring. Fall foals, she learned, were rare and inconvenient, but shouldn’t be a problem since the Virginia winters were relatively mild and the equestrian center had ample shelter.

  She looked for the familiar veterinary truck each time she visited, but two weeks slid by with no chance meeting, no call, and no visit from Tory.

  Leah was done waiting. She made her own appointment with the administrator of Greyson Estates for the following week, then set up a Saturday meeting with the developer who wanted to buy Gram’s farm.

  She received several responses to the feelers she sent out in hopes of leveraging her research into a new job. Every news agency she contacted was under a hiring freeze but wanted to talk to her about freelancing the story to them. Surprisingly, she did get two invitations to talk about possible jobs, one from a national nonprofit advocate group for the aging and one from a Virginia congresswoman who had a special interest in health-care issues. The journalist in Leah screamed that accepting a job with either of these political groups would be selling out, but she thought she could enjoy living in Washington, D.C.

  At any rate, things were finally starting to align so that she could get the hell out of Cherokee Falls and run from the nagging desire to see Tory again.

  *

  Tory met Bridgette several times in the next week for lunch, and she finished work early enough on Friday to catch Bridgette’s softball game. They went out with the team afterward for pizza and beer before ending up at Bridgette’s loft again.

  On Saturday morning, Tory found herself wide awake and staring at the ceiling, thinking that she needed to call Leah. She hadn’t even told her that Long Shot was pregnant. What did it matter, anyway? Leah was leaving. She might never even see the foal.

  Bridgette stirred beside her. “Hey, how long have you been awake?”

  “Just a little while.”

  Bridgette cuddled against Tory’s side, her hand finding Tory’s breast.

  Tory gave her a quick kiss. “I’m starving. How about you?”

  Bridgette raised an eyebrow, but clearly got the message. Her hand abandoned Tory’s nipple and, instead, patted her stomach. “I’ll get up and make us some breakfast as soon as I wake up a little more.”

  “How about we give you time to wake up, and I take you to breakfast?”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Downtown Cherokee Falls was busy when Leah strolled down the street humming to herself. The meeting with the developer had gone very well. He had made a smug offer he seemed sure Leah would jump to sign. What he hadn’t counted on was Leah having researched his project and the amount of money he would make off the deal. By the time she was done, he was agreeing to her demands that he significantly up his initial offer. His office would be faxing the paperwork to Leah’s attorney on Monday. The cool $2.7 million would buy Gram the best available care for the rest of her life.

  She was headed to a local hot spot for a celebratory coffee and pastry when she nearly collided with Jessica, who was exiting the bookstore, her nose stuck in a book.

  “Oh, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to run you over,” Jessica said, juggling her packages.

  “Hey, Jess. That must be a really good book if you can’t wait to get home to read it.” She was glad to see her. She wanted someone to share the news of her successful morning before she had to tell Gram, who wouldn’t like selling the farm, at any price.

  “I love this author and I’ve been waiting months for her new release.”

  Leah took the book from Jessica and read the back cover. “You’re a fan of lesbian romance?”

  “Okay, I know that must be below you, Miss Hot-Shot Journalist. But don’t knock it until you’ve read a few.”

  Leah laughed. “I’ve got every book this author has written. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was due out this month.”

  Jessica laughed, too.

  “What? You thought I read the New York Times for relaxation?” Leah sighed. “Sometimes a girl just needs to escape. Not all of us live in a happily-ever-after world like yours.”

  Jessica hooked her arm in Leah’s and guided her back into the bookstore. “First, we’ll get you a copy. Then we’ll have coffee and a little girl talk to catch up.”

  Leah hesitated. Gram was fine with Margaret, so why not? “Thanks. I could use a little sane company for a while.”

  The coffee shop was busy, but they managed to find a table without waiting long. Since the day was beginning to heat up, they both ordered iced lattes and cinnamon rolls and settled down to talk.

  Even though Leah had been at the farm several times over the summer, Jessica was busy with running it or teaching riding classes, so they really hadn’t had a chance to visit. Jessica listened thoughtfully as Leah spilled everything about the strain of keeping an eye on Gram twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, having to tell Gram about selling the farm, and trying to find a solution to her job situation.

  “So my life pretty much sucks right now,” Leah concluded.

  “If you do find a place for Gram here in Cherokee Falls, I want you to stay at our farm when you come to see her, as long as you like. We’ve got all those empty bedrooms. You don’t even have to call first. Consider it your home here in Virginia.”

  “Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate that. I’m sure I’ll take you up on the offer.”

  Jessica sipped her drink before speaking again. “You know, if we’d been sitting here eighteen months ago, I’d be the one saying that my life sucked.”

  “No way. You have the perfect life. You have the farm and Skyler—you made a good choice there, by the way—and you have a job you love.”

  Jessica shook her head. “Eighteen months ago, I was only a few months out of the hospital after two surgeries on my leg. My horse I had practically lived with and expected to take me to the Olympics had been euthanized on the steeplechase course after a bad spill broke his leg and mine. I came crawling to Kate with a pocket full of painkillers, a bum knee, a new horse, and about nine months to train for the trials. She matched me up with a cranky, arrogant trainer whose womanizing had gotten her blacklisted on the eventing circuit.”

  “Skyler? I can’t believe it.”

  “Yes, Skyler.” Jessica chuckled. “We were like oil and water at first.”

  “Being with you obviously has changed her a lot.”

  Jessica laughed again. “I definitely put a stop to the womanizing. But it’s really Skyler who saved me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being blacklisted isn’t what made her not want to return to the eventing circuit to train me. She said that winning a gold medal was all about looking back at what you’ve done. Rescuing troubled kids through the center’s equestrian program is about looking toward the future, helping them establish the self-esteem they need to grow into good adults. That’s what makes her really happy.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Leah said slowly. “Aren’t you afraid that somewhere down the line, you’ll resent Skyler because you gave up your dream to live out hers?”

  Jessica shook her head vigorously. “It wasn’t Skyler that stopped me. It was finally blowing out my knee so bad I’ll never jump horses again.”

  “Oh, su
gar. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Don’t be. It made me open my eyes to what really is important—waking up next to Skyler every morning and living on the farm I loved so much as a kid.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

  Jessica gave Leah a long look. “Shit happens, Leah. It’s really crappy that you lost your job, but don’t miss this chance to stop and reconsider what’ll really make you happy.”

  Leah shrugged and looked away. For some reason, her thoughts turned to Tory. Just when she was about to ask Jessica if she’d seen her, Tory walked into the coffee shop trailing an attractive blonde.

  *

  Tory’s heart dropped when she saw who was sitting at the table with Jessica. Could she turn around and escape without being seen? Before she could flee, Bridgette grabbed her hand to tug her toward the very table she wanted to avoid.

  “Jess, hey!”

  Jessica turned at the greeting. “Hey, Bridgette, Tory. What are you guys up to?”

  “I guess Tory wasn’t impressed with my cooking last weekend, so she insisted we go out for brunch.”

  Tory shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Leah’s gaze. The implication was clear that they had spent the night together. Not only last night, but last weekend, too.

  “I heard you had found an apartment. Are you getting settled in?” Jessica asked.

  “Yes. I bought a loft in that new development in the tobacco district. I love it.”

  “Sounds like you’re planning to stick around for a while.”

  “It’s fantastic here. I like the college, and I’ve made a lot of friends through the softball team already.” Bridgette smiled at Tory. “Everybody’s so sweet.”

  Leah suddenly stood. “I should go. Margaret will be returning home with Gram soon.”

  “Sorry, I seem to have misplaced my manners.” Jessica made quick introductions. “Leah, this is Bridgette. She’ll be teaching art classes at the college. Bridgette, this is my old friend, Leah Montgomery. She’s been in town this summer to help settle some of her grandmother’s business.”