by Kieran York
Gwen snapped off the TV. “Well?”
“A movie production right in our own backyard,” Royce uttered in disbelief. “Plenty amazing! But how did you know about the film?”
“Funny you should ask,” Gwen’s eyebrows lifted and she smirked. “Remember I told you about the woman I was in love with before I met Nadine? From Texas?”
“Sure I remember. A woman you met after college. You lived together in Texas. She was a reporter. You said when she hit twenty-one she began bartending to pay her college expenses. Made that drink,” Royce trawled her memory, “called a Longhorn Kick. Customers would ask for a kick. I used to think that was hilarious when I was a kid.”
“Remember her name?”
“Jordy?” Royce guessed.
“Jorie.” Gwen confirmed as she pointed to the blank TV screen. “Jorie. Marjorie.”
Royce swallowed. “You and Marjorie Lovett!”
“That’s right. She called this morning and told me that they were planning a piece on Crystal. Says that because of the threats, it’s considered a legitimate news story. She’ll be part of the press corps coming to town.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”
“Because of who she is. It’s imperative that it be kept in confidence. When she called this morning, I asked if she minded if I told you. She said no. I would never ‘out’ anyone. She’s had a rough time making it up the ladder. She’s been with a woman for nearly twenty years and they’ve felt the need to keep it clandestine. The people around them who know are protective of their privacy. That’s why I felt the need to clear it with her before telling you.”
“You have my word. I’ll never mention it to anyone.”
“You can tell Hertha. Never keep secrets from your lover. And Molly already knows. I told her years ago.”
“My mother knows and never told me?”
“You’ve never told your mother that you’re a lesbian.”
Royce unwrapped a candy circle of butterscotch and placed it between her lips. The candy soothed her dry throat. “Would you like a little butterscotch?”
“No thanks. I don’t mix the taste of tea with your candy. Exactly how many rolls of butterscotch a day do you consume?” Gwen teased.
“It depends. Something tells me there might not be enough butterscotch in Colorado to get me through this year.” Royce slumped in the chair.
“And don’t change subjects. You didn’t tell Molly.”
“You said she knows.”
“You should talk with your mother, Royce.”
“When the time’s right. For now, let’s talk about Jorie and you?”
“A surface probe might be in order. Okay, we shared the same egalitarian ideals of youth. There was a newborn passion we each experienced. That’s always powerful. It’s never forgotten. And when your first real love ends – it’s always crushing. And although the damage is repaired with a new relationship, some things are never put out of our memory. I can never forget Jorie. She was rascal wicked. Even then she had that savoir-faire.” Gwen picked up her pen and scribbled. “Looks like we have our headline for the week. The nice part of publishing a weekly is that you have a full six days to procrastinate. But with the influx of the famed and shamed, our front page should write itself.”
“Godiva, Tyler McDermott, and Marjorie Lovett. A star-studded cast. All in Timber City.”
“The network is probably sending Jorie for an additional reason. She’s related to Tyler McDermott.”
Royce twisted around. “Wait. Aren’t you related to him too?”
“That’s how we met. Elizabeth McDermott is my first cousin. My mother’s sister is Elizabeth’s mother. Jorie’s father is Elizbeth’s father’s brother. So Jorie and Elizabeth are cousins on the other side. It’s truly a confusing tangle. Jorie and I are not at all blood related.”
“Tyler is the son of Elizabeth and Judge Jake McDermott. Which makes you and Jorie second cousins of Hollywood’s newest stud.” Royce shook her head. “You’re right, it is confusing. But at least it gives you both an in to get an interview with Godiva. How did you meet Jorie?”
“When I was a small child, I would visit my aunt, Elizabeth’s mother. They thought since Elizabeth and I were the same ages, we could play together. Well, Elizabeth was exactly the same way she is now. A prissy pants. She would slap anyone who called her ‘Liz’ instead of Elizabeth.”
“She’s a pretty miserable person now,” Royce commented.
“Back then she was a boring little creature. Prim and hoity-toity. Even when she was very small. She was no damned fun to play with, so I would explore her family’s attic. There was this large chest filled with ancient black and white photos. This was my first inkling that I was lesbian. I fell in love with a photo of a girl, I guessed was about my age. Light-colored eyes – they were incredible. Later, after college, Jorie visited her aunt in Timber City. It was her first visit to Colorado. They had a party, and I spotted Jorie. It was the woman with the light eyes. Only it had been her grandmother in the photo. I introduced myself to Jorie. Since we were from different families, we’d never met.”
“So you met the woman with light eyes?” Royce grinned. “And?”
“And I couldn’t seduce her quickly enough.”
“Whew,” Royce exclaimed. “What happened to the relationship? Why did you break up?”
“After a couple years, I realized that those roguish, light, gypsy eyes belonged to a gypsy heart. She wanted to wander – see the world. Investigate. I wanted to live quietly nestled in my Colorado Rockies. I wanted to be home.” Gwen rubbed her temple. “She understood the dark age’s homophobia. She knew the obstacles of being a woman, and being a Sapphic woman. She understood that progress crawls incrementally. One pain at a time. One rejection at a time. I believed that we clarify ourselves by being an example. If our numbers are hidden, our power remains hidden. Or extinguished. Jorie had self-expectations two and a half decades ago. The generic lesbian’s life didn’t appeal because she knew she’d never be accepted. The sexual mores of the day had their impact. Still do,” Gwen said with disgust.
“But you really loved her?”
“Yes. But I must not have loved her enough to chase her around the world. And she didn’t love me enough to return to Timber City with me. It worked out for the best. At least most days I think it was for the best.”
“Most days?” Royce questioned.
“You know how mellow Nadine usually is. Well, lately she’s been impossible.”
“Royce gave a deep sigh. “Maybe she’s got too much on her plate. Working here and being my campaign manager.”
Gwen glanced away. “You asked her and she accepted. She knew it would be demanding.”
“Do you suppose she’s worried about Jorie coming to town?”
“Hell’s bells, after all this time we’ve been together? Nadine knows I love her with all my heart. She knows we’re bedrock. But she’s been snapping at me for weeks. So it isn’t anything to do with Jorie.”
“Have you tried talking with her?”
“She tells me nothing’s wrong. But there is. Speaking of trouble in paradise, what’s going on with you and Hertha?”
“The stress of a new relationship, I guess. Getting to know one another.”
“Trial and error love is always at the beginning. I remember when Nadine and I first got together. She wanted to plant a vegetable garden. I knew nothing about it, but I got out there and began directing the project. We got into our first major battle over how to plant the rows. She stood her ground and I trounced off like a wounded buffalo. Every year she plants the garden, and I’ve never once been back there to even look at it.”
Royce laughed. “No wonder she’s ticked. Get out the hoe and help her weed the squash.”
“Not this week. No, not ever. I’m not beginning some discount store chivalry at my age. It’s her territory.” Gwen sipped her tea and then with a knowing glance back at Royce, asked, “So what’s with your
concerned look?”
“I’d like a favor. I’d like you to keep an eye on the clinic. There’s been a man watching Hertha. He paid her a very troubling visit this morning. He demanded that she to be his ‘woman’ and she, or course, was terrified. He’s been hanging around all day.”
“A sinister guy – creeping around the alleys?”
“That’s the one. He drives a battered gray truck with a little shell camper. It may be nothing, but I don’t want to take a chance. He’s bothered Hertha, so I’m concerned. I’d rather be safe and keep watch.”
“Good idea. I’ll mention it to Nadine. She sits at the front desk most of the day. She can see the clinic’s entrance from there.”
Royce stood. “I’m going to drop over and see Mom, and then I’ll head out to the cabin. I want to see if Gran’s okay. Pick up some clothes and things. I’ll be spending the night in town with Hertha.”
“Does your Gran ever ask about why you spend so many nights here in town with the vet?”
“Never. She must think I get a lot of invites to slumber parties. But I tell her I’m sleeping over with Hertha. Mom said she’s glad that I spend more time in town. She gets to see more of me.”
“When are you going to tell them? I mean, they know – but I’m thinking they are waiting for your announcement.”
“According to Faye, the Family Morals Coalition is planning to tell everyone. I hear your cousin Elizabeth McDermott is at the helm of it.”
“Faye told you that?” Gwen let out a whoop. “Who on the Family Morals Coalition would take that tramp Faye into their confidence?” Gwen’s friendly jousting with Faye had been an ongoing event in Timber City for decades.
“You and Faye will never get your scores settled. And speaking of the Coalition, we aren’t likely to get taken into their confidence either. Faye told me that you once called those women ‘beige vaginas.’ Any truth to that?” Royce smirked.
“For once the tart across the street got my quote exact.” Gwen shrugged innocently. “Yes, I said it. At least Faye is honest about bonking cowboys. I give her high marks for that.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about Faye.”
“I won’t let it happen again,” Gwen joked. “Royce, just don’t let them get to you. The beiges. Their basic philosophy is using their sexuality as a ‘feminine’ commodity. They resent women of substance. They’re out to make the world as boring as they are. They attack us. You aren’t too worried about them, are you?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“You shouldn’t be worried. Hell’s bells, you brought your father’s killer to justice. People around here like you and they admire your courage for having done that.”
“But do they trust me with their county? This county is prospering and growing. An upcoming event like Godiva’s visit is an example of that. So it’s a question of the citizens of Timber County having confidence in me. That’s the big question.”
“I can’t deny that it’s a basic human condition to want to see our heroes cry.”
Royce issued a comedic frown. “Is this supposed to make me feel comfort?”
“You ask too many questions,” Gwen answered with amusement. “That reminds me of Gertrude Stein’s death statement: Two questions. First she asked ‘What’s the answer?’ and followed it up by saying ‘But then what was the question?’ Interesting stuff, huh?” Gwen muttered, “Since you don’t indulge in much literature, I’ve got to wonder if you even know who Stein is.”
Royce allowed a slight grin. “What was the question?” Before she reached the door, she swung around. “Please keep an eye on Hertha for me.”
“We’ll watch.”
Out on the street again Royce cast her glance toward the clinic. Everything appeared normal.
***
Royce entered Molly’s Pastry. A mixture of enticing scents wafted from the back of the bakery. Royce walked past the counter and display cases back to Molly’s work area. A bright halo of light illuminated the shiny marble table. Freshly scrubbed linoleum gleamed.
Molly Madison looked up from the sheet cake she was decorating. She gave a twist to the pastry bag and continued making swirls. “Hoped you’d be stopping in, honey,” Molly greeted her daughter. A long, clean apron covered Molly’s short, stocky body. Her brown and gray, lightly-streaked hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. From her round face a dimpled smile and flickering blue eyes broadcast her joy. Her hands adroitly directed apricot-colored frosting lettering onto the frosting.
Royce gave her mother a quick hug. “People know where to get the best cakes in town.”
“For a fact, my cake doesn’t taste all chalky and sugary.” She examined Royce’s drawn face. “And you look like a wet weekend, girl. Between this election business, and now with a threat on Godiva – no wonder you’re glum.”
“I’m also worried about Hertha,” Royce interrupted. “Mom, there’s a stranger around, and he’s been watching and threatening Hertha. He’s been out there all day. I’m concerned. He’s the perfect 10-96 profile. You know, mental.”
“You don’t need to translate for me. Remember, I was married to a sheriff for nearly two decades. I know the language and police codes. I saw that man hanging around and he looked like a mental subject to me. I figured he might have a sick animal.” Molly put down the pastry bag and crossed her arms. “He did act strangely. He wasn’t the type to be an animal owner. Something off about him. And he bothered Hertha?”
“Yes. He accosted her suggestively.” Royce didn’t want to terrify Molly, but she wanted her mother to know it was serious.”
“Did you tell him to be moving on?”
“Within the limits of the law. I can’t put him in restraints. He would claim he was simply making a pass at her and then left. I’d just like everyone to keep an eye on Hertha.”
“You’ve got enough on you right now without this. Crystal was even mentioned in the news. Too bad about that business with Godiva being threatened. You think there’s any connection with that man?”
“Not really. I listened to a recording of the call that came in this morning to the department. It wasn’t the same voice. And the call was long distance. New York. When we traced it, it turned out to have been made from a phone booth. The man watching Hertha has a slight Southern accent. His vehicle license is from Florida. I checked it out. It’s registered to Rick Brown of Miami. No outstanding warrants. Nothing.”
“So you’ve got yourself two women to be watching,” Molly said with a sigh. “I hear tell this Godiva is a bit on the wild side. Newspapers say she’s lewd. But that’s no reason or excuse to be threatening her.”
“No. I’m amazed that Elizabeth McDermott and the judge don’t have a problem with their son dating Godiva.”
“According to one woman at church, Mrs. McDermott says that all the wild things are just cooked up for Hollywood. You know, just for those fan magazines. The movies and concerts need to be promoted, I ‘spose.”
Royce smiled. Molly kept things proper, but was never judgmental. “It’s only for publicity. I bet Elizabeth had that message sent to everyone connected with the Family Morals Coalition. As if they aren’t busy enough trying to see that a woman doesn’t become sheriff of Timber County, Colorado,” Royce said with an edge to her voice. “Gwen says it’s like an oppression soup and now it’s being stirred.”
“Royce, I’d like to think people in Timber City won’t have any of that. Not when the final vote is cast. I know they won’t be listening to foolishness. So those Family Morals folks might just as well save their breath to cool their porridge.”
“I hope so,” Royce commented without confidence. She glanced through the doorway and out a large multi-paned window. “I wish I understood people like the McDermotts. Pillars of the county. Why would they be so against the county having a woman sheriff?”
“Mrs. McDermott is nothing at all like her cousin. Our Gwen is common and comfortable as an old boot. Not one to
overdo. But Elizabeth was always the prissy, prim one. She was doted on. She married the judge, even though he was ten years older than she was. She had high hopes of his becoming a Supreme Court justice. I believe he was in Denver when they met. He swept her off her feet. But he never made it good in Denver, and they ended up building a home in Crystal. She isn’t a happy person. He ended up a plain old, mountain county judge.”
“But now her son is a Hollywood star.”
Molly shook her head. “I’m sure Elizabeth is proud of him. But of course, she would have preferred that he be in a more prestigious profession.”
“I remember Tyler. I always felt sorry for him,” Royce disclosed. “He was three grades behind me. He must be about twenty-five now. When they moved back here, he had a rough go of it. He never fit in.”
“Elizabeth does put on airs. She pushed the boy. Guess we all want what’s best for our children.” Molly paused. “You know, Royce, you’re young. If this election doesn’t work out, you’ve got plenty of time to do whatever you want in life. Being a deputy made you happy.”
“I know, Mom.” Part of Royce was resigned to a close election. And perhaps a loss. She couldn’t explain to her mother, or anyone else. Her father never lost an election.
“I just wish I’d see more of your smile. You could make planters out of those dimples when you smile, girl. And that election will be in a wink of time. I love you no matter how it turns out. We all do.”
Royce remembered the reason for her visit. “Everything will work out because it has to. I talked with Faye and Gwen about watching the clinic. Will you keep an eye in that direction too? If you see anything, just call the department.”
“You care very much for Hertha, don’t you?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“Loving a good friend is special. Friends are our heart’s nearest neighbors.”
“Yes.” Royce stopped short of adding that love is like learning a great and wondrous secret. She wasn’t quite ready to tell Molly that she was in love with Hertha.