Comfortable Distance

by Kenna White

  “What happened to Terry?” Dana was almost afraid to ask.

  “She was diving off the coast of Louisiana doing some work for an oil company.”

  “Oh, God,” Dana whispered, bracing herself for the worst.

  “The medical examiner said Terry had a seizure. She was down pretty deep and couldn’t get up in time.” Jamie had a faraway look in her eyes as she stared out across the park.

  “Oh, Jamie. I’m so sorry.” Dana scooted over closer and rested her hand on Jamie’s leg. “Was she diving alone?”

  Jamie nodded.

  “She wouldn’t listen. I was going to fly down and dive with her the next weekend but she wouldn’t wait.” The muscles in Jamie’s cheek rippled.

  “Would it have made a difference if you had been with her?”

  Jamie heaved a heavy sigh.

  “At that depth, probably not,” she said resolutely.

  “Is Terry the last person you dated?”

  Jamie drew her legs up and rested her arms on her knees then looked over at Dana.

  “We didn’t just date. We were partners. She was my wife. We bought a house together. It had a swimming pool. Four bedrooms. Great ocean view. We were going to have kids. She wanted a little girl. One she could name Annie Laurie, like in the song.” Jamie’s eyes grew misty.

  “How long were you together?” Dana asked softly.

  “Six years. Seven if you count the time we dated.”

  Dana didn’t know what to say. The stoic set to Jamie’s jaw and the fragility in her voice touched Dana deeply. Saying she was sorry again seemed inadequate. Instead Dana wrapped her arms around Jamie and hugged her.

  “You’re a good hugger,” Jamie said, dabbing at her tears.

  “Tell me something wonderful about Terry,” Dana whispered. “Share something with me.”

  “Something wonderful.” She sighed deeply. “There were so many things.”

  “Tell me one. One that will make you smile.”

  “She had a tattoo of a pair of dolphins.” Jamie’s eyes twinkled as she remembered it. “She got it when we were in Australia. It was our first trip together. It wasn’t a very big tattoo. She got it put right on the cheek of her rear. She said that way only I would see it.”

  “Why dolphins? Just because she liked marine animals?”

  “The human and the dolphin are the only two mammals that have sex for pleasure.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “In the animal kingdom, sex is reserved for the proliferation of the species.”

  “Except for dolphins and humans?”

  “That’s right.” Jamie raised her eyebrows mischievously. “She told me it was only fitting that the tattoo be of dolphins.”

  “Terry sounded like a very fun-loving person.”

  “She was.”

  “It must have been terrible for you.”

  “I sold the house and moved to Washington. Dusty already lived up here and she thought it was a great place for me to start over. To tell the truth, for the first few years I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing. I went to the store but forgot what I went for. I forgot telephone numbers, even my own. I couldn’t remember where I parked my car. I couldn’t give a class lecture without reading it off a paper. I cried for no reason other than I couldn’t stop. Everyone and everything reminded me of her. I’d go visit with Dusty just because she looked like Terry. I was a mess.”

  “You were hurting.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie agreed softly. “That was six years ago. I have no idea what I did the first three of those years. It is completely a blank.”

  “Can I ask what Dusty said to you when we were out there for lunch? If it’s too personal, I’ll understand.”

  “She said she was glad to see me doing better.”

  “That’s all?”

  Jamie’s eyes met Dana’s but she didn’t answer.

  “I bet she said she loves you and wishes you the very best,” Dana said, with a kind smile.

  “Something like that.”

  They finished their picnic and didn’t mention Shannon or Terry again. The concert had been only mildly entertaining, but they didn’t mind. They walked the boardwalk, enjoying the gorgeous sunset, and picking out their favorite boats. Jamie finally walked Dana back to the security gate.

  “Would you like to come down for a cup of coffee? I’ve got decaf.”

  “No thanks. I better head home. The dinner was wonderful. Thank you for making it and for inviting me,” Jamie said, handing her the basket. “I had a great time.”

  “I’m glad you did. I’ll let you know when they schedule another one. And Jamie,” she said hesitantly. “Forgive me if I ask too many personal questions. It’s just sometimes I feel like I should know all about you. After all, I’ve told you everything about me.”

  “That’s all right. I’m learning to deal with losing Terry. I may never get past it but I’m learning to deal. Good night, Dana.” Jamie leaned down and kissed Dana on the lips, her hand cradling Dana’s back. This was far more than a friendly peck. There was something else in the kiss. Something warm and tingly, electrifying and sensual. Dana couldn’t help but kiss her back.

  “Was I supposed to tell you when your blouse was open again?” Jamie said softly, her arm still encircling Dana’s waist and her lips just inches away.

  “Yes. Is it?” Dana said, looking up into Jamie’s big brown eyes.

  Jamie stroked her hand down Dana’s throat and along her exposed cleavage, sending a shiver straight to Dana’s libido.

  “It’s open but it’s beautiful. Don’t close it.” Jamie lowered her lips to Dana’s again, this time passionately. Dana dropped the basket and threw her arms around Jamie’s neck. She held on as if she never wanted to let go, pressing herself against Jamie’s body. Dana could feel Jamie’s hips mold to hers. There was a strong yet gentle presence to Jamie’s embrace. Unlike Shannon’s urgent demanding kiss, this was tender and benevolent. From the first moment she had seen Jamie on the deck of Ruth Ann’s boat, Dana somehow knew she wanted this. She had tried to deny it but she had wondered what it would be like to be in Jamie’s arms, feeling her lips against her own? For one moment, one fleeting microsecond of time, Dana was ready to beg Jamie to come down to the houseboat with her. And not for coffee. She wanted Jamie to make love to her, to fill her with passion and ecstasy. To come with her to the loft and spend the night in each other’s arms, Shannon be damned. She wanted Jamie’s long legs wrapped around her all through the night. But before she could ask, Jamie pulled away, shyly smiling and bidding her good night. Dana was left leaning against the security gate, wondering how she let her slip away.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning Dana was up early. She hadn’t slept well and decided a walk was what she needed. The taste of Jamie’s lips and the feel of her hand on her back was a pleasant memory. She knew it was silly but languishing in that fantasy put a spring in her step. What a wonderful feeling, she thought. She stopped at the café on the boardwalk and had breakfast, enjoying the view of the harbor and daydreaming about what might have been. She returned to the houseboat and tried to work but couldn’t concentrate. She drove by Steve’s house to take in the mail and feed their cat. When Dana returned to the houseboat, the telephone light was flashing. She pushed the button to hear the messages on her way to make a cup of coffee. She was sure it would be the normal litany of telemarketers.

  “Dana, call me as soon as you get this message. It’s important.” Shannon’s voice was clear and direct, telling Dana this wasn’t a social call. The machine beeped and started the next message. “Dana, call me right away.” Shannon’s tone was now impatient and demanding. There was something else in it as well.

  Dana turned off the kettle and dialed Shannon’s number.

  “Hi. What did you need?” she said when Shannon answered.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling all morning.”

  “I just got home. What’s up?”

&
nbsp; “Your cell phone isn’t turned on either.”

  “The battery won’t hold a charge. I ordered a new one on eBay but it hasn’t come yet.”

  “Damn, Dana. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours. I’ve got bad news.”

  “What?” From her experience with Shannon’s idea of bad news, it could be anything from WWIII to a flat tire.

  “Maggie’s mom died.”

  “Eva?” Dana gasped. “When? How?”

  Maggie was one of Dana and Shannon’s oldest friends. They had known her even before they knew each other. Maggie had introduced them. She was a sweet woman, full of energy and sincerity. At forty, she had been in countless relationships with women either far too young or far too old to understand her unique sense of humor and needs. Dana strongly suspected Shannon and Maggie had a brief history together some years ago. Shannon denied it but Maggie’s coy blush at the notion was a dead giveaway. Even though Dana hadn’t seen her in months, Maggie was still a good friend.

  “Night before last. She was in the hospital and had bypass surgery three days ago. They think it was either a blood clot or a heart attack.”

  Dana sank into a chair.

  “Poor Maggie. Shannon, that’s awful. She has always been very close to her mother.”

  “She’s a basket case. I called her and all she did was cry.”

  “I’m sure. They were more like sisters than mother and daughter. They did everything together.”

  “Mrs. Everett was a good old gal,” Shannon said.

  “Eva. She wouldn’t let us call her Mrs. Everett,” Dana said reflectively.“Remember the time we met them at that hamburger place by Renton on the lake? She bought everyone’s lunch in honor of her great-grandmother’s birthday. She said her great-grandmother loved hamburgers so she wanted to pay.Remember? She absolutely insisted.”

  “Yeah. And she put a match in her hamburger bun like a candle and sang happy birthday.”

  “I thought Maggie was going to split a seam laughing at her.”

  They both laughed, but their laughter soon faded to a remorseful sigh.

  “Maggie will sure miss her,” Dana said sorrowfully. “Have they made the arrangements yet?”

  “It’ll just be immediate family at graveside services but that won’t be until Eva’s brother and his family can get here from Virginia. There’s going to be a visitation this evening at the funeral home for friends. Six o’clock to eight. I’ll pick you up at five forty-five.”

  “I can drive myself. Which funeral home?”

  “Gulleston’s but they don’t have a very big parking lot. It’ll be better if I pick you up. I bet it’ll be crowded. Everyone Eva worked with will be there.”

  “Where did she work? I thought she retired.”

  “She took a part-time job with the Port of Olympia. Some kind of clerical work. Maggie tried to talk her out of it but she insisted. Said she wanted to stay busy. She was sure she could still pull her own weight.”

  “She was a sweet lady. She was always very kind to me.” Dana cast her eyes out the window.

  “I’ll be there to pick you up at a quarter to six.”

  “Okay,” she said, her thoughts still on a pleasant woman with a quirky smile and a lusty laugh. “I’ll meet you by the statue outside the security gate.”

  “Don’t do that. I’ll come down to the houseboat to get you. It’s supposed to be rainy,” Shannon said.

  Dana was about to tell her she couldn’t get inside the security gate without a code when she remembered entering it after their dinner at Trinacera. Shannon undoubtedly noticed the code and it would be seared into her brain.

  “I’ll order some flowers,” Dana said.

  “I already did. Pink lilies in a glass vase. I put both our names on the card.”

  “Thank you. I’ll pay you for my half.”

  “That’s okay. I would have sent them anyway.”

  “Shannon, I want to pay my share. I didn’t order them or sign the card. Could I at least pay for half?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got to go. My call waiting is lit up like a Christmas tree. I’ll pick you up later. And you might want to wear that pretty pink sweater, the one with the scallops on the V-neck. It looks good on you. See you later, babe.” Shannon hung up without waiting for Dana’s reply.

  Dana opened the telephone book and scanned the yellow pages for florists. She wanted to send her own flowers. Maggie was a dear friend, even if they didn’t spend much time together anymore. And her mother had been kind. There was no reason she couldn’t send a plant even if Shannon had already included her name in an arrangement. She had punched in the number of a nearby florist when she realized it was silly to send a duplicate. Maggie would question her senility if a second arrangement showed up with Dana’s name on it. And Shannon would never let her hear the end of it. She hung up and went to make her coffee, a bitter taste in her mouth over Shannon’s presumptive decision.

  “Damn it,” she said, flinging the spoon into the sink. She picked up the receiver and hit redial.

  “South Sound Flowers,” a woman said, picking up on the second ring.

  “I’d like to order a plant. It goes to Gulleston’s Funeral Home.”

  “And the name of the deceased?” The woman sounded as if she did this a lot.

  “Eva Everett.”

  “What kind of plant would you like?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know. I’ve never ordered a sympathy plant before. It’s always been cut flowers. What do you recommend?”

  “It can be almost anything. Amaryllis, dieffenbachia, hydrangea, miniature rose, hibiscus. You name it. I had a woman order a cactus for a funeral last week.”

  Dana thought a minute. This is the moment when Shannon would clear her throat, drum her fingers on the table, and volunteer to make the selection for her.

  “Lilies are always nice for a funeral. Either cut or as a plant,” the woman offered.

  “No lilies,” Dana said.

  “Orchid? Gardenia? Azalea?”

  It occurred to Dana that Jamie’s botanical background would sure be handy right now. She also realized Jamie wouldn’t tell her what to choose, but rather offer explanations and insist Dana make her own decision.

  “Do you have African violets? Purple ones?” Dana asked, remembering Eva had once indicated she liked them.

  “Yes. Lovely choice. What would you like on the card?”

  Dana hesitated. Shannon probably spent twenty minutes on the computer looking up something clever for the card. Something profound and sappy. That was okay but not what Dana wanted.

  “Just sign it—Love, Dana.”

  “That’s all?” the woman asked curiously.

  “That’s all.”

  Dana had done it. She had sent her own flowers. Shannon wasn’t going to like it but so what. Dana went to make her coffee, knowing in her heart she had done the right thing. She had just finished creaming her coffee when her telephone rang.

  “Hello,” she said, taking a sip.

  “Hi,” Jamie said with a relaxed chuckle. “I guess I’m officially an absentminded professor.”

  “Why? What did you do?” Dana replied, happy to hear her voice, whatever the reason.

  “Your sunglasses. I had them with me to return to you that day I came by the houseboat and Juliana was there. I remembered your jacket, but I got so wrapped up in her situation I completely forgot the sunglasses. You left them in my car when I gave you a ride home from Bartolu’s. Remember? It was raining.”

  “I wondered where I put those.”

  “Do you need them this evening? I could drop them off later. I’ve got to collect some water samples in the bay.”

  “What time?” Dana asked, the idea of Jamie stopping by a pleasing one.

  “Late this afternoon. I’m going to take advantage of low tide around five o’clock.”

  “I’ll be home until a quarter to six. Then I should be back by eight. Earlier if it’s real crowded.”

&n
bsp; “Where are you going? A Japanese bath?” Jamie chuckled.

  “A funeral.”

  “Oh, gosh, Dana. I’m sorry.” Jamie immediately sobered.

  “Actually, it’s a visitation. The funeral is family only.”

  “I didn’t mean to make fun of what you were doing.” There was sincerity in Jamie’s apology.

  “You didn’t. Making fun would be one of those gross jokes about dead people.”

  “Would it be terrible of me to ask whose funeral you’re attending? I hope it isn’t a family member.”

  “She was the mother of a friend but she was more like a friend herself. Lovely lady.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dana. What happened?”

  “Complications after bypass surgery, I think.”

  “Was she ill a long time?”

  “Not that I know of. She was mid-sixties and still very active. She walked the Pink Trail up by Seattle last year in support of breast cancer and that was twenty miles.”

  “I walked that event. There must have been two thousand participants. What was her name?”

  “Eva Everett. Maggie Everett’s mother,” Dana said.

  There was a gasp. Then silence.

  “Jamie? Are you there?”

  “Eva Everett, the lady who handles the water quality reports?”

  “I don’t know about that, but I know she had a part-time job with the Port of Olympia.”

  “Thin woman with gray hair?”

  “Yes. Curly gray hair. She usually wears dangly earrings.”

  “That’s the one. I know her. Or at least I knew her. She was very funny. And very pleasant.”

  “That’s Eva. The family visitation is six to eight at Gulleston’s Funeral Home. Would you like to go with us?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Shannon won’t mind, I’m sure.” As soon as it was out of her mouth, Dana knew that wasn’t exactly true. But she didn’t care. Inviting Jamie to go along seemed like the right thing to do.

  “No. I’d rather not.”

  “Because I said Shannon was going?” Dana asked.

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “We’ve both known Maggie and her mother for years. She introduced us. It just seemed right that we go together.”