Heart Block

by Melissa Brayden

  “Take your time.” Grace patted Emory on the shoulder. “You have to do what’s right for you. You may regret it though. You know, never having a family of your own. Lonely life.”

  “Geez.” Emory ran her hand through her hair. “Way to give me a hard time. That’s kind of heavy talk from an eight-year-old.”

  “Mom says I’m going on forty.”

  “At least.”

  Just then, Grace’s eyes flared at something just past Emory. Curious, Emory turned just in time for two very large paws to land squarely on her chest. “Whoa,” she gulped just as Grace managed to call, “Watch out!”

  “Too late, I think.” Emory stared into the familiar chocolate brown eyes of the offender. “Oh, hell.”

  Grace inhaled sharply. “That’s a bad word.”

  Emory slid her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “We don’t have to tell Mom.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “He seems to like you.” Grace giggled, enjoying the giant doggy kiss the retriever forced on Emory’s unwilling cheek.

  “It seems so,” she agreed dryly. “We’ve met before.” She gently lowered the stray to the ground, and he responded by rolling onto his back and offering up his lonely, unscratched tummy. Grace fell to her knees and set to work, providing him with a good rub and earning a few kisses of her own.

  “Aww. He’s so cute, Emory. Where are his owners?”

  “That, my young friend, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.” She surveyed the expanse of the beach, but there was no one but a couple of guys tossing a football who informed them they weren’t familiar with the dog. “I guess he’s just a stray that hangs out in this area. Maybe I should call animal control.”

  “No!” Grace practically shouted. “They may put him to sleep like on 20/20. Can he come back to your house with us? Please?”

  Emory shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, kiddo, I’m not a dog person. Plus, I’m not home enough to take care of him and he’d probably tear up the house.” Grace looked crestfallen, and Emory felt the pang of regret in her chest. “But, hey, why don’t we just let him hang out on the beach? He seems to like it out here. I won’t call anyone if you don’t want me to.”

  “Promise?” Grace offered up her miniature pinky.

  “I promise.” Emory intertwined the pinky with her own. “Let’s head back. Last time he was pretty good about obeying when I told him to stay.”

  “Wait. He needs a name.”

  “All right. A name is okay, I guess. What do you want to call him?”

  Graced didn’t hesitate. “Looks like a Walter to me.” She nodded her head in affirmation of her work.

  Emory arched an eyebrow. “Walter? Not Ace or Lucky or Bo? You know, something a little more dog friendly?”

  “After Walter Cronkite,” Grace supplied, as if Emory might have missed something. “My papi and I think he was the greatest newsman in the history of the United States, and this dog looks smart. Like he wouldn’t fail you.”

  Emory had to admit, the kid could back herself up. “All right then. Walter it is.”

  When they arrived back at the house, the dishes were put away and the kitchen in tiptop shape, much to Emory’s delight and regret.

  “You truly didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said to Sarah, who was waiting for them in the living room. While it was a nice gesture, she felt a little guilty about allowing her company to handle the clean up. However, Sarah had been so insistent, and she still wasn’t entirely clear on what would or would not upset her. They seemed to be so in tune, yet so different at the same time. It was puzzling.

  “I know, I know. I think you’ve said that a hundred times tonight. You don’t want people to start calling you Broken Record do you? Because there are more favorable nicknames I can come up with for you.”

  Emory frowned. “Well, that’s a shame because I happen to like Broken Record.”

  “Lying is wrong.”

  “It is,” Grace chimed in sincerely.

  After much discussion, they decided a movie would be a fun way to cap off the evening, and Emory allowed Grace to select one from her extensive Blu-ray collection. They each took a spot on the spacious sectional, and Sarah watched Emory work her magic with the plethora of foreign looking remote controls until Grace’s favorite movie, Up, appeared on the large plasma screen on the wall. Thirty minutes later, just as the little boy was annoying the poor old man, Grace was fast asleep.

  Sarah surveyed Grace who had managed to curl up on the side of the sectional closest to Emory, her head resting on her shoulder. “They look so peaceful when they’re asleep, don’t they?”

  Emory threw an affectionate glance down at Grace’s angelic face. “They really do.”

  “Don’t let it fool you,” Sarah whispered dramatically.

  “Stop talking about me,” Grace mumbled, her eyes still closed. “I’m right here.”

  “Busted,” Emory mouthed. She pointed at Sarah who only shook her head innocently.

  “We were just kidding around, monster. But you seem extra tired. We should probably head home now.”

  “No, you guys finish the movie. I’ll just rest.”

  “Would you rather lay down in the guest room upstairs?” Emory offered. “It might be more comfortable.”

  The idea caught Grace’s attention and she sat upright. “Can you see the beach from up there?”

  Emory considered this. “Yeah, really well.”

  “Can I, Mom? It’d be cool to lie there listening to the waves.”

  Sarah tilted her head to the side, mulling over the option. “All right, but just for a little while. I want you in your own bed before long. It’s been a long day for you. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. Just a little while, I promise.”

  “I’ll show you.” Emory escorted Grace to the cozy room in the corner of the house, which did have a magnificent view. Grace chose to nestle in on the small blue couch that faced out over the water, rather than the queen-sized bed on the inside corner of the room. Emory provided her with a blanket and watched as she snuggled down into it looking completely content.

  “I love your house, Emory. It’s so dreamy.”

  “Dreamy? What do you mean by that?”

  “It just seems like a person could come up with a lot of good dreams for themselves if they lived here. It’s…what’s the word we learned? Inspiring.”

  Emory was touched by the comment and instantly had a real-life reference for terms like warm and fuzzy because that’s exactly how she felt. “Thank you,” she murmured. And suddenly, she wished she’d done a little more dreaming of her own inside her “inspiring” walls. Realizing there was still time for that and more, she tousled Grace’s hair affectionately and turned to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  There was no answer, and before Emory reached the doorway, she heard the soft, even breathing indicative of serious slumber. She smiled in response to the peaceful sound, another puzzling surprise in a series of puzzling surprises.

  Maybe there was hope for her after all.

  She closed the door most of the way, deciding to leave it cracked in case Grace was to call for something.

  Sarah waited patiently downstairs on the sectional, worried there was something she would do to get it dirty. The place was just so entirely chic that she found herself intimidated in its mere presence.

  Sitting very still on purpose, she reflected on the day’s events. It had been such a fun evening for her and Grace, and she felt miles better than earlier that afternoon. Yet for most of the day, it had been the three of them, and with Grace present, she knew exactly what to expect and what tone to set. She was nervous now, realizing that the dynamic was about to shift. Whatever it was she was feeling for Emory brought up more questions than answers and she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  It was then that Emory descended the stairs and Sarah couldn’t help but admire what she saw. After swimming, Emory had changed into a simple p
air of yoga pants and a white cotton T-shirt, and somehow she even managed to rock that outfit.

  “She’s out like a light.”

  “One of her many talents. Thanks for being so great with her today. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s really taken to you.”

  “Well, I can safely say that the feeling is mutual.” Emory hit the bottom step. “How about a glass of wine?”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Not if it’s eight hundred dollars a bottle.”

  “Very funny. Seventy-five at most.”

  “Still high-end. Are you sure you don’t mind being seen with me?”

  “Listen, you, do you want the wine or not?”

  Sarah grinned like a kid. “Please.”

  Emory returned with two oversized globes, handing one to Sarah and taking a seat on the sectional next to her, curling her legs underneath her. She watched Sarah take a cautious first sip.

  “Verdict?”

  “Um, pretty amazing.”

  Emory seemed happy to hear the endorsement and turned to her own glass. Instead of drinking from it, she began by taking a deep inhale and letting the aroma settle. Sarah was intrigued. Next, Emory took a small sip and allowed the wine to roll around in her mouth a moment or two before swallowing. Sarah took another sip from her glass, enjoying the pensive expression on Emory’s face as she dissected the flavors. “You’re super serious over there. A true aficionado, it would seem.”

  Emory smiled at her. “Just taking it in. Tell me what you taste.”

  Sarah cringed. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about wine, except that I mostly enjoy it.”

  “That’s okay. There’s no right or wrong answer. Everyone’s palate is a little different. I could tell you that I taste Cocoa Puffs and marshmallows in this wine, but if you taste plums and cinnamon, that’s what matters. A great wine is very complex…kind of like a woman. Tell me what you taste, Sarah.”

  It took Sarah a moment to process the question because there was something very alluring about the way Emory described wine. And there was that mouth again. So full and almost heart-shaped. She was going to need oxygen any minute now. Forcing herself to focus, she took another sip and did her best to articulate what she experienced. “Okay. It’s got a strong taste of fruit, but it’s not sweet.”

  “Dry,” Emory supplied, meeting her eyes.

  “But it’s more than just the fruit I taste.” She grappled for a moment. “It’s got an edge, almost a kick at the end.”

  “A spicy finish.”

  “Spicy, that’s a good word for it.” Who knew wine tasting could be so incredibly sensual?

  “What else?”

  She took another drink. “I like that there’s no aspect of it that pulls me too far in one direction. There’s a little bit of everything.”

  Emory nodded in slow agreement. “Balanced, clean.” She’d already finished her glass and set it on the table. “You’re good at this.”

  As she looked at Emory, her heart rate escalated. Somewhere in the course of their conversation, they’d moved closer together on the couch. They’d kissed before, but both occasions had been in parting. Yet there was nothing she wanted more in this moment than to kiss Emory again. She was so close, and there was that very appealing mouth again. All she had to do was close the distance and capture it with her own.

  “You know, I think I’m going to switch to water now, but can I offer you another glass?” Emory slid away from her and into the kitchen.

  “No, I’m fine.” Damn it.

  Alone in the kitchen and out of Sarah’s view, Emory grasped the edge of the countertop and let her head fall forward. It had all started so innocently. Okay, not entirely, because there had been some intense kissing in the entryway that last day. But it had been escapable. Something she could have walked away from. Should have walked away from.

  But there was just something about Sarah. When she was with her she felt good inside. And now, after the time they’d spent together, her heart was turning on her and that hadn’t been part of the plan. She liked Sarah, hell, more than liked her, and the chemistry between them was somewhere off the charts, but she just couldn’t let herself give in to it. Why?

  Because it was too big a risk. When she compared what she was feeling for Sarah with what the facts in this scenario were, it was a lose-lose. And she wasn’t one to ignore the odds.

  But Sarah made her consider things she’d never once considered: love, a family, home. Sarah had broken through a barrier within her that no one else had. And those feelings were starting to invade her life. Damn it.

  She straightened. Plain and simple, there were things she needed to say and questions she needed to ask. She stalked back into the living room on a mission now. “Can we talk?”

  Sarah looked somewhat startled by what probably sounded like frustration in her voice. “Of course we can. What do you want to talk about?”

  “This, I guess. Us. What we’re doing here. There are things. Going on in my mind. And I need to talk about them.”

  Sarah’s face softened. “We can talk about anything, Em.”

  Em. The casual use of her name stopped her momentarily. She wished she’d say it again, while looking at her just like that, little flecks of green dancing in the hazel. Stay the course, she reminded herself. Clearing her head, she concentrated firmly on her goal.

  “I like you a lot.”

  Sarah smiled. “I like you too.”

  “But I’m having trouble seeing where we go from here. I’m not sure I can be who you would need me to be. For Grace. For you.”

  Sarah took a deep breath, her eyes falling squarely on the coffee table. “I know.”

  “You should run from me.”

  Sarah raised her eyes to Emory’s and nodded. “I should.”

  “But you’re not?”

  Sarah shook her head slowly. “I can’t seem to. No matter how many arrow signs are pointing me in the opposite direction. But I could ask you the same question. Why did you invite us over today?”

  She thought on this. “Because I care about you more than I ever expected to, and I was worried about you, and I wanted to see you. All of those things.”

  Sarah lifted one shoulder. “That should count for something.”

  She had a point. “It does. But there’s so much more. Have you ever dated a woman?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No.”

  “Have you been attracted to women before?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re attracted to me?”

  Sarah smiled. “I can say most certainly, yes.”

  “So do you consider yourself bisexual?”

  Sarah sighed. “Why don’t you sit down so we can actually talk about this? Unless you prefer the inquisition you’ve got going here. I’d like to do my best to explain.”

  Emory sat, but this time on the opposite end of the couch.

  Sarah took a deep breath. “My whole life, I’ve dated men. That’s just how things were. ‘Pick a man and get married’ was the message I was sent from the time I was little. I never considered the fact that there was another option for me. I’ve never personally known anyone who’s gay.”

  “Until now.”

  “Until now.” Sarah nervously took the last swallow of wine from her glass. “So to answer your question, no, I’ve never noticed an attraction to women before this. Maybe this part of me has been there the whole time, just waiting for me to notice it. I don’t know.” She slid closer to Emory on the couch. “What I do know, Emory, is that since I’ve met you, I feel like so many things I thought I knew about myself have gone straight out the window. I don’t have all the answers because I’m still figuring them out myself.” Emory didn’t respond. Suddenly, she was very interested in the plastic grooves of her bottled water. “Please say something. Tell me what you’re thinking even if it’s that you want me to leave.”

  Emory lifted those sky blue eyes and the raw emotion Sarah saw staring back at her was enough to steal h
er next breath. “I’m thinking that I don’t want to be your experiment in sexuality or your short-lived foray into the land of lesbian before you wake up and realize this isn’t what you’d envisioned for yourself or your daughter. The perfect picket fence is a lot to undo. I’m thinking I don’t want to disappoint you down the road when you realize that I’m not family material. Because I’m probably not. I don’t know anything about kids and what if I—” She turned her head away then.

  Something in Emory’s words struck a chord with Sarah, and she moved until she sat alongside her, gently placing a hand on her cheek and forcing Emory to look her in the eye. “You’re a good person, Emory. I know that or I wouldn’t have you around Grace. I would never do anything on a whim where she was concerned. If nothing else, believe that.”

  “I do,” Emory whispered, giving in. “I love that you put her first. You’re a wonderful mother. I think my problem is that I don’t have a clear idea of where we’re headed.”

  Sarah offered a small smile. “And the lack of control is killing you.”

  Emory nodded.

  “I think we’re complicated. But I don’t think we have to have it all figured out. Here’s my proposition. Let’s not make each other any grand promises. I like spending time with you. Let’s see where that goes.”

  Emory nodded. “So, casual?”

  “Casual.”

  “Okay.”

  “Emory?” Sarah whispered back.

  “Yes?”

  “If you don’t kiss me soon, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Emory stared at her wide-eyed, a soft smile forming on her lips. With slow determination, she ran her fingers through Sarah’s hair, lifting it gently away from her face and letting it fall. She cradled Sarah’s face in her hands and moved in slowly, brushing Sarah’s lips ever so lightly with her own, once, twice, and deepening the kiss on the third go-round. Jesus, her brain staggered at the feel of Sarah’s lips on hers, the faint smell of her shampoo, the way her skin felt under Sarah’s touch. Emory tentatively swiped Sarah’s lower lip with her tongue, encouraged when Sarah parted her lips in response.

  Sarah felt lightheaded. She melted as she moved closer into Emory and began to kiss her back with an unfamiliar ferocity. Driven by need, she slipped her hands under the hem of Emory’s T-shirt, moving her nails slowly over the skin of her lower back. Before she knew it, they’d sunken into each other and lay on their sides, pressed hip to chest. Sarah was having trouble forming a coherent thought as the heat between them seemed to grow with each passing moment. She was dizzy with desire and knew only one thing, she needed more of this, now.