Such Happiness as This

by Laina Villeneuve

  Satisfied, her brain turned back to the long list of things to do. Now that she’d met Robyn, she could check barn duties from it. “You’ll want Kristine’s number,” she said, reaching for the note she had stowed. She hesitated and pulled a business card from her purse instead. It never hurt to give a beautiful woman one’s number, she thought, quickly writing Kristine’s number on the back. “That’s her cell, so don’t worry about waking the baby.”

  Taking her leave and utterly caught up in her own schedule, she realized she hadn’t thanked Robyn. Turning back, she found those keen blue eyes glued to her. The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Thank you,” she said. Her body suddenly feeling alive, she adjusted her posture and stride to invite Robyn’s continued appraisal.

  Chapter Eleven

  Helpful

  That evening, Robyn turned the card over in her hand, alternating between Kristine’s number and the contact information for the woman from the barn. Grace Warren, Administrative Director. Art Department, Humboldt State University. Simple and professional with the school’s colors featured in the forest green of the lettering and the gold of Founders Hall, the building which had once been the entire campus.

  She pursed her lips, considering whether this Grace was a friend or simply a colleague. She’d be surprised if they were more than work acquaintances. Even though her elegant business attire, absurd for the task at hand but nonetheless very attractive, the cut and style suggested that fashion, not function, came first for her. As an administrator, her closet was sure to look more like Barb’s than Robyn’s or Kristine’s. Workday or weekend, Kristine’s attire never wavered from her cowboy boots, jeans and tidy plaid shirts.

  That the administrator would help out one of the adjunct employees had warmed Robyn, making her appreciate, again, the tight-knit community that was Arcata. People took care of each other here. The neighbors had noticed when she’d taken up residence in her grandparents’ old place seven years ago. Until she’d been able to secure a coast guard assignment at Sector Humboldt Bay and move back to Arcata, she had rented out the two-story house in Northtown Arcata.

  Like distant relatives, the neighbors recognized her from the summer vacations she spent there as a child. Still, the number of them who had stopped by with fresh-baked goods or fruit in hand had floored her. It had been years since she’d been at the house and she was the sole member of her immediate family who had chosen to reside permanently in Arcata. Her brother had been called by their grandmother’s homeland and her parents had eventually followed him to be with their new grandson. She still felt her grandparents’ presence in this community of theirs that had welcomed her so openly. She knew that if she found herself needing a helping hand, there were many around her to give her just that.

  She called Kristine to let her know she’d run into Grace and was happy to take care of Bean. “Is Caemon enjoying being a big brother?” she asked after they’d checked in.

  “He is, but it’s tough for him to have our attention divided. That’s one of the reasons I asked Grace to take over Bean for me. I don’t want Caemon to feel sidelined.”

  “He loves coming to the barn, though.”

  “I know, but he’s getting big enough now that he isn’t entertained by mucking and waiting for me to give Bean a decent workout.”

  “He’s entertained when he’s working with the tractor. If you bring him when I’m there, I’m happy to have him help with that again.”

  “That’s nice of you to offer. Maybe I’ll try to bring him on Saturday and sneak in a ride too. If you’re sure.”

  They agreed on a plan to coordinate Saturday afternoon, and Robyn heard Kristine stifle a yawn. “Have you got anyone in town to help out?”

  “Gloria’s parents are here in Eureka.” She was quiet for long enough that Robyn wondered if she’d been distracted by the baby in the background. When she spoke again, she sounded even more exhausted. “They help as much as they can. One of these days, I’m going to have to be the grownup and cook supper again.”

  Impulsively Robyn asked if they had a dinner set up for that evening.

  “I’m just going to scrounge some kind of leftover together tonight, I think,” Kristine said. “Or order in.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ll bring something by when I’m finished at the barn.”

  “You’re already taking care of Bean.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’d like to. When my brother and his wife had a baby, my parents went to Japan to help them get settled.”

  “That’s amazing. How long did they stay?” Kristine asked.

  “Nine years.”

  Kristine’s laughter rang through their connection. “And you never had a kid to bring them back here.”

  “Nope, and if they’re waiting for that, they’re never coming back.” Robyn waited out Kristine’s laughter before continuing. She smiled remembering how good it felt to make someone laugh. “I feel guilty for not being there when my nephew was born, so you’d be helping assuage my guilt.”

  “I never say no to food.”

  “Good,” Robyn said, feeling excited to plan a meal for them. After checking for allergies and preferences, she signed off and rubbed her hands together. She pulled some potatoes out of the pantry and harvested a few leeks from the garden, frowning at her beds. If Kristine’s baby had come in the spring, she could have created a salad with greens and berries from her backyard. She remembered Caemon’s joy when she mentioned her garden and smiled at the possibility of having him help harvest berries later in the year. Since garden pickings were slim at the tail end of autumn, she made a list to take to the co-op.

  Back inside, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work on mixing bread. While she kneaded it, she figured out the timing for the soup and salad to be done and the bread out of the oven before she went to take care of the horses. The stopover at the barn would give the potatoes a chance to absorb the flavor from the leeks. Kristine would have to reheat it, but that should be the only thing she’d have to worry about for dinner.

  In her workshop, she found a large bowl she’d made out of a beautiful old oak burl. The shed also yielded a nice basket that would hold the bowl and its bread. Wiping out the bowl, she had an idea and called Isabel.

  “What does a nursing mother really want?”

  “What kind of greeting is that?” Isabel asked. “And since when do you have a nursing mother to care for?”

  “My friend at the barn has a new baby, and I’m making dinner for them. Soup, salad and bread. What else should I put in the basket?”

  “Guinness. The darkest one. It’s good for producing breast milk. I lived on the stuff, and I wanted dark chocolate. Is this their first or second?”

  “Second.”

  “Make sure you put something in the basket for him. The big one so often can feel left out.”

  “Thanks. I got it.”

  “This is good. You have a new friend who’s getting you out of the house. Barb come get her shit yet?”

  Robyn was quiet.

  “You cannot let her steamroller you, mija.”

  “I know. I’ll call her. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s all out of the way in the shed.”

  “Whatever. It’s still not right how she’s treating you. The least she could do is make a clean exit, so you can get on with your life.”

  “I’m getting on.”

  “I’ll believe that when you’re cooking for a single girl, not a family, but this is a good start.”

  Enjoying herself, Robyn pushed aside Isabel’s observations about her dating life and Barb and went back to the dinner plans. Having someone else to focus on, whether it was cooking for Kristine’s family or putting work into Jen’s studio space, made her feel freer than she had in years. For too long she had allowed her failing relationship to drag at her like diving weights around her waist. Slowly, she felt herself letting each weight of disappointment sink away while she surfaced, thankful for every breath.

  Chapter Twelve
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br />   “This bread is amazing. Where did you get it?” Grace said, helping herself to another slice, glad she had accepted Kristine and Gloria’s invitation to stay for dinner. Gloria had just fed Eliza who had promptly crashed out. The three adults had beers and steaming bowls of soup in front of them.

  “Robyn made it,” Caemon piped up.

  “The Robyn from the barn?” Grace asked, surprised. Baking bread from scratch didn’t line up with the woman who had seemed so disengaged by the baby details.

  Kristine nodded and gestured to the soup with her chin. “Made this too. The potatoes and leeks she grew, and she was very apologetic that the salad fixings weren’t from her own garden.”

  Grace took another bite of soup, letting the creamy base baptize her tongue before she chewed the perfectly-cooked potatoes. “Is she married?”

  Gloria and Kristine laughed in unison. “You weren’t asking that after seeing her, but her food makes you curious?”

  Caught, Grace blushed. “My mother always said you marry a woman who can cook.”

  “I can cook,” Caemon said, causing all the women to laugh together.

  “That’s true. You’re Mommy’s best helper,” Gloria said.

  “She expected you to marry a woman?” Kristine asked Grace.

  “She expected you to be good at feeding a man,” Gloria stated, a patronizing look directed at her wife. “Pardon her. She grew up on a farm and was only expected to be good with horses.”

  “And Gloria grew up here, so her parents expected her to marry a woman,” Kristine rallied.

  “Point taken,” Gloria smiled, taking Kristine’s hand across the table for a brief squeeze before she was pulled back to managing Caemon’s soup which was starting to spread out across his placemat. She returned a square of potato to his spoon and encouraged him to use the utensil instead of his hands.

  “I’m sure she’s convinced that my being single is directly related to my failure to understand the basics of cooking.”

  “Why are you single?” Kristine asked. “You’re gorgeous and fun. You’ve got a good job.”

  “I thought it was being in Houston. That’s why I took the job here. In the city, all I could think about was the competition to get ahead. That’s great for a professional life but not so much for your personal life.” She did not add how she had thought the town’s proximity to Oregon would improve her relationship with her sister. Shaking off the guilt she felt about not having spent more time with her family, she continued. “I was promised a lesbian mecca, but so far, it seems like all the lesbians I’ve met are dating each other, not waiting for me.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Gloria said. “I had to import mine.” They shared one of their looks, drinking each other in like they did so often.

  “That doesn’t help me, you know?” Grace shot back.

  “What about Robyn?” Kristine asked.

  “A little rough around the edges, but she has potential,” Grace mused. “I did put your number on my card.”

  “That was inspired!” Kristine said.

  “Doubtful that anything will come of it, but it doesn’t hurt to put oneself out there,” Grace said, clearing her dishes. “Dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty?”

  “Clean, I think,” Kristine said.

  Grace inspected a glass and, satisfied that Kristine was right, began opening cupboards and finding where things went.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Gloria said without conviction.

  “I know, but I want to,” Grace answered. “It makes me feel less guilty for eating your dinner.”

  “Have you seen how much food we have left over? We’re happy to have you here to help us, and believe me, I enjoy the adult conversation,” Gloria said.

  Grace relaxed into the kitchen cleanup, chatting easily with both Gloria and Kristine until Kristine slipped away to give Caemon his bath.

  “Don’t mess with routine,” Gloria commented as Caemon skipped ahead of his mama to the bathroom, trying to pull off his shirt as he went.

  Grace scooped the remnants of the salad into a food saver, turning the bowl in her hands. She ran her hands over the smooth surface and studied the signature on its base, a simple circle of milky white Mother of Pearl. “Where did you get this? It’s lovely.”

  Gloria shrugged and joined Grace at the sink. “Must have come with supper. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “I’ll have to ask Kristine about it,” Grace said, admiring it once more before she rinsed it and dried it carefully.

  “Are you in town this weekend?” Gloria asked.

  “No. I have tickets to Wicked.”

  “I envy you. It’s nice to have friends who will fill me in on stuff that happens on the other side of the Redwood Curtain, but it makes me feel very homebound too.”

  “Before you had kids, did you make trips to San Francisco?”

  “A few times. A mentor of Kristine’s had a show at a high-end gallery down there, and we went for the opening. I’ve never been to a musical though.”

  “Never?”

  Gloria shrugged. “I don’t think I could sit still that long—Kristine either.”

  Grace sighed and rolled her eyes. “Could you be any better suited for each other?”

  “Sorry,” Gloria said.

  “No, don’t be. It’s nice to have friends who have a great relationship, but it makes me feel very single too.”

  Gloria laughed. “I think you should do more here. Have you seen anything at the campus theater?”

  “I’ve seen a few shows. They were okay.”

  “For a small-town university.” Gloria’s tone indicated that she understood Grace’s disappointment.

  “They just don’t have the facility to do huge productions like Wicked or Mama Mia. Last year, I saw this amazing musical called Big River…”

  “The one based on Huck Finn, right?” Grace’s expression betrayed her surprise, earning her a smack on the arm. “We have degrees, missy. We know some stuff. The music in that is amazing. There’s a local bluegrass band that often puts something from Big River in their set. The next time they play, you should get Kristine to take you. They’re something else. You want to meet someone, you’ve got to spend more time here instead of driving off to San Francisco every weekend,” Gloria said pointedly.

  “So noted,” Grace said, running a dishtowel over the counter.

  Gloria grabbed the towel from her. “No more cleaning. You’re exhausting me. Come say goodnight to Caemon, and I’ll get that gorgeous baby girl you’ve been dying to see. I’m starting to hear some peeps.”

  “Now we’re talking!” Grace said, taking the towel back for a few more swipes before she finally relinquished it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Grace, someone here to see you,” Aaron sang from the outer office.

  When she’d first arrived at the Art Department, the informality had irked her and reminded her of how her own mother’s hackles went up any time she or her siblings hollered for someone across the house. Now she accepted it as part of the charm of a small campus, one of her reminders to slow down.

  Normally, she asked him to direct people to her office even though it was small, but this was at least the fifth visitor to ask for her that morning. She feared that this one, like the others, was not related to business, so she stepped out into the general art department office.

  “Can I help you?” Grace said in what she hoped was a friendly tone. She had no appointments, and as she’d suspected, she didn’t recognize the cute baby dyke.

  The young woman smiled broadly, making her look even younger. “There’s a poetry jam this weekend.”

  Grace accepted the flyer, the third she had to add to her stack. She’d also been informed of a feminist author who was visiting and talking on campus and of the art opening at the First Street Gallery in Eureka. She wondered if the student who invited her to the art opening had any idea that she was behind the entire project and would be there to coordinate, not social
ize.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure many of our students will be interested in attending. In the future, you can give event notifications to Aaron, and he’ll be happy to post them for you.”

  The young woman remained rooted where she stood, and Grace could tell she was working up the courage to invite her specifically. To save them both from the awkward silence, she thanked her again and disappeared into her office. She felt a little unkind, but better to be brisk and shut down any hope these young women had about fraternizing.

  “Are you the new GLBSA advisor or something? What’s with the parade of adoring young women?” Aaron asked a few minutes later, merrily batting thick eyelashes that Grace envied. The public face of the office, Aaron’s couldn’t have been better chosen with his warm smile, carefully trimmed beard and neat, styled, close-cropped hair.

  Grace rested her forehead on her palms. “I have no idea. It’s a little late for the welcome wagon. Do me a favor and run interference for me? I’m not here unless it’s campus business.”

  “You bet.”

  Minutes later, a rap at the door sent Grace’s forehead down to the desk mumbling about Aaron’s failure to protect her from the campus lesbians. Steeling herself, she sat up and without trying to hide her annoyance, barked “Come in.”

  “Is someone wearing grouchy pants today?” Kristine asked, hesitating at the door.

  Grace slumped with relief. “Kristine.”

  “Who were you expecting? A firing squad?”

  “All this week, I’ve been ambushed by student dykes.”

  Kristine eased into the chair opposite Grace. “What prompted that?”

  “I wish I knew. I told your wife I was ready to meet someone. I guess I should have specified that I’m ready to meet someone who is well into her thirties.”

  “You two had a nice visit the other night?”

  Grace stretched back in her chair. “Indeed. She said you know a good bluegrass band.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that. I’ll let you know when they play again.”

  “I’ve never been a huge fan of bluegrass, but it’s got to be better than the stuff they play at the club.”