Amor and More

by Radclyffe

  As soon as Chelsea said that, Morgan wanted to move in. “Ever?”

  “Never. When you decide the time is right, we’ll talk again.”

  That had been too easy, and Morgan soon found out why. Late that night as she drove back into the city, the rain washed across the wearily sliding windshield wipers, and more rain beat down through the black beyond that. Headlights in the opposite lane reached out like burning fingers straight into her eyes. She slowed as a truck passed, completely obliterating her view of the road as it threw more water across her windshield.

  If she moved in with Chelsea, there’d be no more middle-of-the-night drives home. She’d have to drive into the city for work, and at other times they could just turn out the light and pull up the blankets. She was sure Chelsea was the one. She could see them growing old together. She could imagine sending Dom off to college and holidays with grandchildren. Recently she hadn’t been able to see her life any other way.

  Coming into town, she pulled off at a gas station and sat listening to the beating rain. She texted Chelsea: Success in love is success in life. Let’s buy a place together.

  The next morning, after what Morgan thought was a long wait, she got a text from Chelsea: K.

  Later when they spoke on the phone, they decided to see what was available, big enough for the three of them, and in the city. They went to some open houses. Morgan was sure she’d be the one to drag her feet, but after looking at several places, Chelsea was the one who was hard to please. She had to consider school for Dom. That disqualified several of the less expensive places.

  While they looked, Morgan made herself start going through her mother’s things. When her mom died, Morgan had put her belongings in the smaller of the two bedrooms and closed the door, promising herself she’d get to them, and over the past year she’d tossed in other things she couldn’t decide whether to put away or pitch.

  But if she was going to sell the house, she’d have to go through everything.

  After a particularly disappointing Sunday of open houses, Morgan cleared boxes off the bed and started sorting. She sifted through a box of old bills and receipts as the muscles in the back of her neck tightened. The house they’d seen earlier would have worked: a Cape Cod, two bedrooms on the main floor and two more upstairs under the slanted ceilings with dormered windows in the front. No garage, but they could build one. But the street was “too busy for Dom and the dogs.”

  When they’d first talked to Dom about the move, he’d asked, “Will we take the dogs?”

  Chelsea said, “Maybe one or two, but not all. Laura will find new homes for them.”

  Morgan loved dogs, so that connection with the ex hadn’t bothered her too much. Chelsea and Laura had split over Laura’s infidelities, so Morgan, who’d only been with one other woman, easily made a promise of fidelity. Chelsea seemed sufficiently disconnected from Laura until now, but finding homes for that pack of dogs would be difficult, if not impossible.

  Dom asked, “Will I have a room big enough so my friends can come over and play?”

  “That’s right,” Chelsea said, “Morgan and I will share. But you get your own room, and it will be big.”

  That night as Morgan carried a large bag to the trash, she wondered if they’d ever be able to find the right house. It seemed like Chelsea didn’t want to move. She lived down the lane from her parents, and the house and land had been in her family before she and the ex had purchased it. Maybe she felt disloyal selling to a stranger.

  Monday morning on the way to work the call came. Morgan hit the Bluetooth and Chelsea’s voice replaced Susan Boyle’s. “Morgan,” she said, “this isn’t going to work.”

  “Okay,” Morgan said uncertainly.

  “It’s just too complicated.”

  “As I recall,” Morgan said, “you’re the one that brought it up. You wanted to live together.”

  “That’s when I thought you’d move in here with us,” Chelsea replied.

  Morgan remembered the weekend devoted to sorting out her mother’s things, not easy, not something she’d have chosen to do for at least twenty years. But she’d done it for Chelsea. “Move in with us.” Her tone was cutting, but she couldn’t stop. “By us you mean you, Dom, the dogs, and your ex, right?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Morgan said, “Sorry,” then hit Disconnect.

  Morgan pulled into a Starbucks and parked. She didn’t want to break up, but she needed to calm down. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the ex. It sounded petty. What if Chelsea turned back to Laura for comfort? Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was past time for the workday to begin. She considered calling in sick and driving out to see Chelsea, but quickly rejected the idea. Refusing to act like a bird that enjoyed the cage, she decided to let herself and Chelsea cool down. She put the car in gear and pulled back into traffic.

  The day was a busy one. Morgan thought about their conversation several times. She ate lunch at her desk, wolfing down a microwaved burrito and root beer. With plenty of reports to be filed, she was the last one in the office. The sun was setting as she drove through McDonald’s, ordered her dinner off the dollar menu, and drove home expecting a message from Chelsea. The only message was from the cable company wanting to sell her more channels. She was worried and disappointed. Okay, pissed. She wanted to call Chelsea but forced herself not to out of spite. By bedtime she was sure the ex was taking her spot. Maybe she’d never really had a spot.

  That week November arrived with drizzle and depression. It seemed like it was always dreary and dark. Morgan’s eyes felt like she had tucked brambles under each eyelid, as if she’d been stirring concrete with a straw. On Tuesday night she stopped at Tallulah’s after work for a beer. When she stepped inside out of the wind, she found the place quiet. A card game was going on at a table back near the dance floor. The barmaid was a stranger. She was young and butch, with rosy cheeks, a nice smile, and one of those buzz haircuts that Morgan wished she had the nerve for but didn’t. Another couple came in and the barmaid waited on them and then stayed to talk. They were all in their twenties and all had those goddamn haircuts. Morgan tossed a dollar on the bar, turned up the bottle and emptied it, then headed for the door. Behind her she heard the infants laughing.

  Morgan wanted to call Chelsea, but after three days it would have been an embarrassment. She had her pride. Chelsea had started it, anyway. Anger became more about Chelsea not calling than about the move. How could something so stupid come between them? Morgan didn’t want to move. They had a good thing. Or they had had a good thing. All this over a phone call, disembodied words attached to nothing solid. Sure, they’d only been together six months. Sure, they’d spent a lot of that time in bed. Orgasms were terrific, but they weren’t the remedy for every injustice—at least Morgan didn’t think so. She just wasn’t sure where the injustice lay in this, but she was pretty sure that she had been wronged. Moving was a major change. Maybe Chelsea thought she’d been ready and just wasn’t. Maybe she was alone in that bed they’d shared, crying because Morgan hadn’t called. Well, good then.

  *

  Late Friday afternoon as they headed back to the police station, Redick, Morgan’s bald-headed ex-Marine partner, pulled their unmarked car off the road and turned to her. “What’s up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Something is wrong. You’ve been a viper all week. I can’t take it anymore.”

  Morgan glared at him. But he sat there waiting. Finally she said, “I’m fine.”

  “Is this a romantic problem?”

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  “I guess you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What made you think that, Sherlock?”

  Redick stared at her, his brows knit, letting the silence unwrap around them.

  At last she said, “It’s Chelsea.”

  Following a short bark of nervous laughter, Redick said, “Thought so.”

&nbs
p; “We don’t seem to be speaking.”

  “Don’t seem to be? You aren’t sure?”

  Morgan sighed. “I guess not.” She waited out another silence, listening to her thoughts growl.

  Then Redick said, “I read something that might apply here. I was in the dentist’s office and there was this Reader’s Digest and I picked it up and paged through it. In the jokes part, I read something like, ‘When you meet the right person, you know right away, but when you meet the wrong person, it takes a year and a half.’”

  Morgan felt a pinprick of a headache. “What’s your point?”

  Redick shrugged. “Is she the one?”

  Morgan nodded slowly.

  “You can’t be a duck until you learn to quack.”

  “Huh?”

  “Quit fucking around and call her.”

  “But I think I’m right.”

  “That’s a dilemma for assholes,” Redick said. “Most of the time it just don’t matter. Life don’t reward longevity or merit. There’s no Silver Star for being right.”

  Before she could reply, they were interrupted by Redick’s phone. He answered and spoke briefly and then pulled back into traffic.

  “Ducks,” Morgan said. “Is that Reader’s Digest too?”

  “Naw, I read it somewhere else, can’t remember, but think about what you want, okay?”

  Morgan thought about it. She was still thinking about it at nine thirty that night when she pulled into Tallulah’s packed parking lot. She had on a yellow oxford shirt and a new pair of black jeans that hugged her hips just right. The bar was full, so she ordered a beer and carried it to the back. She recognized the two women who’d been in the bar earlier that week. Actually she recognized the buzz cuts. A third woman, who looked familiar, was with them. Her dark hair was about the same length. They were laughing. Morgan recognized the laughter and couldn’t seem to stop herself from approaching the table. The women, turning to face her, were suddenly quiet.

  “I don’t talk to you for a week and you go get your head shaved?”

  Chelsea ran her hand over her head and smiled. “You like it?”

  Morgan said, “It looks hot.”

  “Thank you. I think.” Chelsea pulled out a chair. “Are you alone? Want to join us?”

  Even as she stepped toward the chair, Morgan said, “I was just leaving.”

  “Aw, come on.” Chelsea turned to her friends. “This is Morgan, the one I was telling you about. Morgan, this is Laura and her partner Barb.”

  Morgan stared at Chelsea. She’d never seen Laura before, not even in a picture. “Laura, as in your ex Laura?”

  Chelsea nodded.

  Morgan took a significant swallow from her beer bottle and shook hands with the women in turn. A slow song started and the two seemed anxious to dance. Holding hands, Laura led Barb away. The dance floor was filling up as Laura pulled Barb into a sexy embrace. With a slow hip-grinding motion, they moved out of view.

  Morgan’s body tingled. She wanted to touch Chelsea, to press their breasts together, run her hands over her ass, and grind her hips. “Wanna dance?”

  Chelsea smiled. “Don’t we need to talk first?”

  Morgan took Chelsea’s hand and stood. “The song will end if we don’t get out there.” At the edge of the dance floor, Morgan pulled Chelsea into a tender embrace and rested her chin on the bristly new haircut. She pressed her thighs together, afraid she might come right then and there.

  Chelsea looked up at her, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth to a wet kiss. Finally pulling away, Chelsea said, “I’ve missed you.”

  Morgan shoved her knee between Chelsea’s legs. “I’ve been crazy without you. I was wrong about everything.”

  Chelsea nibbled at her ear and hoarsely whispered, “It was Dom’s school. My family. The dogs…”

  “Of course, you’re right. I was wrong.”

  “Could you stand to move out to the country with Dom and me?”

  Morgan’s crotch was damp. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “I don’t think I could stand it if I didn’t.” Her tongue found its way into Chelsea’s ear. She whispered, “We are going to work this out.”

  Chelsea pulled away. “When all the necessary blood is in our brains?”

  “Right.” Morgan blocked her progress. “Wait, I haven’t had enough.”

  “The song’s over. We’re alone out here.”

  “Who cares? Another song will start in a minute.” Morgan guided Chelsea to the nearest wall and pressed another long kiss on her lips.

  “You girls want to get a room?”

  Morgan glanced toward the voice. It was Laura, with Barb, swaying her hips to Rihanna’s “Te Amo.” Chelsea just smiled and put her arms around Morgan’s shoulders to pull her back into the kiss.

  “Well, there’s nothing like a happy home,” Laura said, and danced away into the gathering of sweaty lesbians.

  Sheri Lewis Wohl grew up in picturesque northeast Washington state and always thought she’d move away. Never did. Now she happily writes surrounded by mountains, lakes, and rivers. When not working or writing stories, she trains for triathlons and is a member of a K9 Search & Rescue team.

  This story features characters from Burgundy Betrayal.

  Wolf Night

  Sheri Lewis Wohl

  Yellowstone River Valley, 1835

  She did not scream as pain ripped through her body. Scorching hot and coming fast, it was as if an enemy’s arrow had pierced her flesh. Still she made no sound. A chief did not let discomfort of the body distract her.

  Another pain shook her. The soft intake of her breath was all she’d allow to pass her lips. Her wives knelt by her side, wiping the sweat from her brow, singing softly to the spirits. The child was coming.

  Dark Moon placed a hand on Pine Leaf’s swollen belly, her touch gentle and loving. “Not long,” she whispered. “He will be here soon.”

  Since the moment she’d known the child grew inside her, Pine Leaf knew it was a son. Her visions had shown her his face and his future. He would be strong, leading her people with his back straight and his head held high. When their way of life was destroyed and her people nearly broken, he would carry her blood into the generations that survived and one day her descendants would stand tall once more.

  Dimly, through the constant pain, she sensed danger coming closer. The spirits had been speaking to her, warning of what approached. Distant hooves pounded, sending vibrations through the ground at her back. Her life didn’t matter. Her son’s did.

  A pain, deep and terrible, ripped through her and everything changed. Her son came into the world under the sky, dark and filled with stars. She turned her head to the wolves that sat on their haunches, their black eyes scanning the night as if they were standing guard.

  Pine Leaf dropped her gaze to the black hair that covered her son’s head and the features that mirrored her own. She saw none of the man who tried to call himself husband. The child at her breast was her son. Her legacy.

  The howl of one of the wolves rose on the night air. Holding her son against her breast, she whispered his name. “Black Wolf.”

  Spokane, WA, present day

  Cam Black Wolf sat in the chair next to the big fireplace with her feet on the stool watching the flames and feeling incredibly relaxed despite the topic of conversation.

  “So,” she looked over at Kara, who was stretched out on the sofa, her arms folded behind her head and her feet up on the arm, “how exactly do we want to do this?”

  This was the wedding they were planning. Once the state of Washington passed the same-sex marriage law, it was a given, they were getting married. Or at least for her it was a given. In fact, she couldn’t recall anything in life she’d looked forward to more, with the possible exception of spending the rest of it with the woman she was madly in love with. They already had the license. They already had the time and location. All that was left was deciding what to wear.

  “I say we go combo style,” Kara said casually. />
  “Combo style?”

  “Yup, we do old-fashioned white dress for me—you know, all virginal-like.” She winked at Cam. “And a beautiful elk tooth dress for you.”

  Giving it a little thought, Cam decided it was actually a pretty good idea. “I like it.”

  “Yeah, it will make my mom really happy. She always wanted to see me in a white wedding dress.” Kara smiled and shrugged. “Of course, she sorta hoped I’d be marrying a guy, but this will make her just as happy.”

  Cam smiled back at her and nodded. Kara’s mom was okay. Yeah, she probably hoped for a more traditional relationship for her only daughter, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She was probably more excited about the wedding than either Kara or Cam.

  She thought about the elk tooth dress Kara suggested and her smile grew. “I can wear Pine Leaf’s dress, and I guarantee it will make my dad pass out.”

  “Pine Leaf?” Kara looked at her quizzically.

  “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “I know you told me something about her before. She was some kind of kick-ass Crow chief, right?”

  Cam nodded, thinking about her long-ago ancestor. Pine Leaf was so much more than a chief. She had been what they’d today call a trailblazer, breaking down all the barriers in her time and respected all the more because of it. Wearing dresses was definitely not Cam’s style, but she’d be proud and honored to be married in Pine Leaf’s.

  “Yes, she was a chief. She was also a lesbian, though no one called her that in those days. She was simply referred to as two-spirited, someone who possessed the spirits of both male and female. She even had several wives.”

  Kara tilted her head and studied Cam. “Yeah, well, you’re only getting one wife, so don’t get any ideas. Hey, if she was a lesbian, how did she become your ancestor? In those days, there had to be a guy somewhere in the mix, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  Cam knew exactly what Kara was getting at. Thinking of the stories she’d been told about the woman chief who shared her blood made her frown. “Yes, there was a man. By all accounts one obsessed with Pine Leaf. Her—not so much with him. He was such a pest she finally gave him an impossible test to prove he was worthy to marry to her and then sent him on his way. She never thought he could pull it off. Took him ten years to do it, but he did and then came back to claim her as his wife. Joke was on him, though. It only lasted a matter of weeks and then he disappeared. Nine months later my ancestor Black Wolf was born.”