by KD Fisher
“Yeah, you know, like, tell me about yourself or what’s your story. That kind of crap. Small talk questions pretending to distil you down to a simple version of yourself.” I stuck my tongue out in disgust, remembering a very bad date with a very handsome man in San Francisco who had peppered me with dozens of such questions but never gave me the chance to actually answer.
“Um, I haven’t really been on a lot of dates.” Adah’s voice was low.
“Me either.” I shrugged. “Lots of hookups, I guess, but not a lot of honest to god, pick-you-up-for-dinner dates. I get bored easily, I guess. To be honest I think I’ve only dated—” I put scare quotes around the word, “—two or three people. And one was in high school so I feel like that basically doesn’t count. Kevin, the dude you met and glared daggers at last weekend at the benefit.”
Adah laughed, blushing a little. “Yeah. You know, just with Peter and getting through culinary school I didn’t have that much time for myself, let alone somebody else.”
I wanted to ask Adah if she mostly dated women even though it couldn’t have mattered less to me. I was just nosy and always liked the part of hanging out with other queer folks when we talked through our identities, swapped coming out stories, laughed about silly stereotypes. I had a feeling, though, that particular topic might spook Adah, so I steered the conversation into calmer waters.
“So you went to culinary school in Chicago, right? How did you like it?”
“Yup. I liked it fine, I suppose. It was definitely something to learn all of the fancy techniques and sauces and things I’d never even heard of growing up. I’m glad I went, because I wasn’t making much as a line cook and it was nice to learn how to make something more than cornbread and chicken-fried steak.”
I looked over at Adah, glad to find she’d relaxed back into her seat, the soft summer breeze ruffling her hair. “I couldn’t hack it,” I admitted. “Culinary school, I mean. I tried to go for pastry when I was living in California but it was all so rigid. Not my scene at all. If I had to make another fucking sugar flower, I thought I was going to have an honest to god temper tantrum.”
Adah stayed quiet for a long moment and I worried I’d offended her. Then she grinned. “Yeah I can’t see you listening to anyone telling you how to do...well, anything.”
I had to chuckle at just how right she was. “So you cooked a lot growing up? I was always helping my mom around the café but I didn’t really start liking it until high school. Until I realized I could make stuff up on my own. Then once I decided to open The Yellow House it was cool because I could decide exactly how I wanted to do things. Grow my own food, buy from who I want, cook whatever I feel like. What got you into it? Made you like it, I mean.” I was so caught up in talking that I almost missed the turn onto the mostly hidden gravel road leading to the beach. My dad had sworn me to secrecy, hoping to keep this small stretch of rocky coast from the hordes of tourists that descended on southern coastal Maine each summer.
“Yeah I did.” Adah sounded a little wary. “I kinda had to, I guess. I was the only girl in the family. Six brothers. My mama needed help and, well, I guess because I’m a girl I was the one to do it. But after a while I realized I was good at it. That I liked it. We did a lot of cooking for the church, pancake breakfasts, bake sales, spaghetti suppers, that kinda thing. The kitchen ended up turning into my favorite place in the house. Quiet. Safe.”
Something about the weight of the word safe didn’t sit quite right with me, like a brick tossed into a still pond. But I knew better than to push. Instead I parked in the shade of a big pine and cut the ignition. Outside the air was alive with the rushing of wind through leaves and the chatter of birds. Inside the car was silent. Well, silent aside from Hamlet’s steady panting in the backseat.
“We’ll have to hike a little to get to the beach, is that okay with you?” I turned to Adah, again overcome with the desire to close the distance between us and brush my lips against hers. Her hair was trimmed closer on the sides than it had been a week ago. The thought that she’d maybe gotten her hair cut to look her best for this date flooded me with affection for her.
“Yup. I like hiking. Haven’t had much time to exercise since I’ve been up here.”
“Alright then.” I leaned over the center console and gave in to the desire to press a fast kiss to Adah’s cheek, clearly startling her. “Let’s go.”
Unsurprisingly, Adah was quiet as we walked along the narrow, overgrown path to the ocean. Hamlet bounded ahead of us, stopping every once in a while to wait for us to catch up. Questions to ask Adah ricocheted around my mind, but somehow breaking the silence between us felt almost sacrilegious. Normally I would chatter away about the restaurant, my family, or the latest podcast I’d been listening to, but I wanted to give Adah the space to talk if and when she felt ready. I let my mind drift out to the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks ahead, the sharp scent of pine mingling with the tang of salt air. I relished the warm sun on my skin and the cool patches of dappled shade. Slowly my body relaxed and my mind quieted. As we walked I scanned the forest floor, looking for wild blueberry bushes or lambs quarters. Then I spotted it. Without thinking I grabbed Adah’s hand and tugged her off the barely maintained path.
“A lady slipper.” I reached down to brush aside some of the pine needles obscuring the soft pink orchid. But almost as quickly as I moved, Ada’s fingers closed around my wrist.
“Wait.” Her voice was almost pained. “Don’t pick it.”
Rising to stand, I took a long look at Adah’s face. Her lips were pressed into a firm line and her eyebrows crashed together. When she glanced down at me, her cheeks colored. In that moment I was overwhelmed with tenderness for her. I realized as much as she tried to be tough, she was a total softie beneath that cold exterior.
“Sorry.” She huffed out a small laugh. “I looked at this article about living here and it said you shouldn’t ever pick those. They take a real long time to grow back.” Adah shook her head and dragged a hand over her face. “Anyway, I like it here. Reminds me of home a little.” The tone of her voice shifted, embarrassment transmuting to sadness. “I mean, not the ocean obviously, but the woods. I miss the quiet.”
Torn between wanting to kiss her for being so adorable, wanting to set the record straight that I hadn’t been planning to pick the lady slipper, and wanting to descend on the scrap of information about her past like Hamlet going after leftovers, I nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah I missed it up here too. Before I moved back up to Maine I was living in New Orleans. It was awesome, but nothing beats the solitude of nature.” Okay, maybe I was laying it on a little too thick. I liked solitude about as much as I liked restaurants that called appetizers appe-teasers. “Did you grow up in a rural part of Missouri, then?”
Adah nodded, adjusting her backpack. “Yup. The Ozarks. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Not even in town, we had a farm up in the hills. I miss it some. Can’t ever go back though.”
I stopped on the path, turning to face Adah. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, like she was embarrassed she’d said anything about herself at all. “Could you tell me more? About you, I mean. Like is it okay for me to ask you questions about yourself?” The words felt a little silly as they left my mouth, but I was serious. As much as I wanted to know more about this mysterious woman, the last thing I wanted to do was push or make her feel awkward. God knew I had a talent for asking too many questions and occasionally overwhelming people. Was I doing something wrong? Clearly, she wasn’t exactly comfortable with chitchat, much less deep talks about her past.
Adah’s blush deepened but she nodded. Damn, she was adorable when that tough façade slipped. I took her hand in mine and led her out to the sea.
Chapter Eleven
Adah
I couldn’t look away. Never in my life had I seen something so beautiful. The sun shimmered off the water, almost turquoise where it lappe
d against the dark rocky shore, stretching out to a deep, flat blue. Seaweed drifted and bobbed in time with the steady beat of the current. In the distance small white sailboats glided along the horizon. The air smelled good. Clean and salty with the slight, faraway edge of someone grilling meat over charcoal.
I turned to Beth, the breeze tumbling through her hair and pressing the thin fabric of her skirt tight to her legs. Okay, she was just as beautiful as this place. But it was a close tie.
“I think the blanket and towels are in your bag,” she said, shouldering off her backpack and setting it down on a large, flat rock.
Beth’s giant beast of a dog, who I now realized was about as scary as a newborn chick, made a beeline for the water, swimming a few small circles before clambering back out to shake all over us. A laugh erupted from my chest but died right away at the sight of Beth pulling her T-shirt over her head. Her red bikini was, well, small, and I had to try real hard to tear my eyes away from her smooth, creamy skin to focus on pulling the picnic blanket out of my bag.
I cleared my throat as I shook out the blanket onto the sun-warm rock. “Here?”
“Perfect.” Beth raised her eyebrows suggestively but her smile was soft. “I think I need to get some sun before I swim. Are you hungry yet?”
“I could eat,” I said, tugging my shirt over my head and stepping out of my jeans. I’d been glad the one bathing suit I owned, a black one-piece I’d bought when I’d been training unsuccessfully for a triathlon, still fit.
Next to me, Beth’s breath hitched. I glanced at her to find her big brown eyes had gone even bigger and locked on me. She wasn’t even trying to hide her desire as her lips parted and she moved a fraction closer. Half of me liked being wanted, itching to run my fingers along the curve of her hip, tighten my grip, and pull her against me. The other half of me wanted to hightail it back to the road and try my luck as a hitchhiker. She must have sensed my hesitation, because her body softened and she turned to busy herself with the food.
Dang it. I tried not to groan in frustration. Why did this always happen to me? Once I knew I liked someone, knew how much I wanted them, I clammed up. Talking was hard enough. Trying to kiss her...well, I might as well have been trying to make consommé with my hands tied and my nose plugged.
Beth sat down cross-legged and gestured for me to sit across from her. “Okay, I have prepared for us today...” Her voice was such an over-the-top version of the listing the specials tone, I had to laugh. “Raspberry sun tea, smoked fontina and grilled eggplant on homemade rosemary ciabatta, and a blackberry kumquat cake for dessert.” She plated the food expertly on blue enamelware and slid my lunch in front of me.
I wanted to tell her more about myself. Wanted to explain why I was so dang taciturn. Wanted to let her get to know me, whatever the heck that even meant. I opened my mouth to speak, and instead of the thoughtful words I’d arranged in my head, what came out was a low, “Sorry, I guess I’m kinda nervous.”
The blanket bunched between us as Beth scooted closer. “Me too. Which is actually really weird because I don’t do nervous. So we’re in it together.” She grinned. I loved the way her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes, the way it turned her whole face into sunshine.
I took a bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly to appreciate the softness of the bread, the way the bright, herby tapenade she’d spread on the eggplant contrasted with the richness of the cheese. She really knew how to build flavors and work with texture, I had to give her that.
Setting my plate down, I took a long breath. I could do this. I could tell this woman, who I really liked, who seemed to actually like me, a few things about myself.
“Okay,” I started, my voice sounding kind of shaky. “I told you I grew up in the Ozarks. My father was a pastor. A few years after my oldest brother was born, he started this church, a Pentecostal one, if you know what that is. Basically his ministry was a whole lot of gospel and a whole lot of trying to make sure everyone we met believed the same things he did.” I paused to take a long sip of tea to steady my nerves and soothe my throat, which had gone all scratchy. The tea, like the sandwich, was somehow a little more delicious than I’d expected and I smiled.
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything. Sorry if I was being nosy before. I just, like, love asking questions and sometimes I get carried away and end up acting like a total dick.” Beth’s hand found my forearm and gave a soft squeeze.
I shook my head. “No. I want to tell you. I mean, I hate talking about myself. But I want you to know. Anyway, long story short, my dad was a jerk and my mama didn’t do anything about it. My brothers and I were all homeschooled so I guess I didn’t know any different. I mean he wasn’t abusive or nothing...just yelled a lot, broke stuff, made us copy Scripture for hours if he didn’t like how we acted. I was the youngest, though, by kind of a lot, and by the time I was supposed to start high school the congregation had grown a whole bunch and my mama got to be too busy with church business to teach me, so I went to the public school a few towns over.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips at the memory of me on my first day of ninth grade. Long blond hair that never felt right, all done up in braids that felt even worse. Homemade clothes. Wide-eyed at the sight of so many kids, so many voices, so much difference.
“I was a sight that first day, I’ll tell you that. Kids weren’t nice to the weird church girl. But then after a few days I met Emily. She was probably the first real friend I ever had. She was one of the only Black kids at school, and a lot of the other kids and even some of the teachers treated her like a complete outsider. It was awful. We got close and then by the time I was a junior we were, well, we were real close. My brother Tim found us together in the barn and told the rev—my dad. It wasn’t pretty. I got pulled out of school, had to start working at the church full-time. Never saw Emily again.” My voice got all funny and Beth gave my arm another reassuring squeeze, like she knew I needed to be reminded I was here with her and not back in the reverend’s study.
“Anyway, the day I turned seventeen my mama brought Jeremy over. His daddy had grown up with the reverend. He was a missionary and they were looking to settle back down. They wanted Jeremy to court me. I guess they hoped the whole thing with Emily was a fluke. Honestly back then I kinda hoped it was, too. And Jeremy was nice. Handsome. He was probably the most interesting person I ever met since he’d lived all over. So yeah, that’s how Peter, uh, happened. Turned out after a few times trying I realized I didn’t really like sleeping with men, but I didn’t exactly know back then that I could undo getting pregnant. I thought my mama might understand. But when I told her, well, she didn’t.” My eyes were dry and hot, burning so bad I had to squish them shut.
“Adah.” Beth’s voice was gentle and close to my ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. It was fine.” I cleared my throat and opened my eyes to take in the wide expanse of ocean. “A few days after I told her I hitched a ride to St. Louis and figured it out. That’s when I started cooking—line cook at a diner. It all worked out for the best.”
Beth’s arms slipped around me and her scent, all wood smoke and lavender, was everywhere. She pressed her lips to my temple and the combination of the gestures was shockingly intimate. Soothing. We stayed like that for a long time, close and quiet under the hot summer sun. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had just held me like this. Wasn’t sure if anyone ever had. Somehow, Beth knew she didn’t have to say a word. Knew there was nothing to say.
Goodness knows how long we would have stayed tangled up like that if Hamlet hadn’t returned from one of his swims and shaken droplets of ice-cold seawater all over us. Beth startled and laughingly told off her dog. Little by little, I seemed to come back into my own body. Standing up, I took a long moment to stretch and feel the heat of the sun on my skin. I felt odd. Tired but also somehow lighter. Maybe Jay was on to something with the whole talking about your problems thing.
“Should we swim?” Beth asked, pulling her tangle of hair up into a bun on the top of her head. I noticed, for the first time, a tiny tattoo on her shoulder: a series of delicately rendered stars clustered in a Y shape. I trailed my finger along it and Beth’s expression shifted from thoughtful to almost comically excited. “Yes! I almost forgot. When’s your birthday?”
“Sure, we can swim if you want.” I shook my head and laughed. “And it’s September second. Why?”
Eyebrows shooting toward her hairline, Beth clapped her hands together and squealed. “Oh my god. Seriously? You’re a Virgo? Okay well you better wife me up now because we are like bonkers compatible.”
I couldn’t help it, she was so ridiculous and excited and so darn cute, I pulled her into my arms and bent, pausing with my lips close to hers. Beth drew in a slow, shaky breath and I knew in that moment she and I wanted the exact same thing. Our eyes locked and my breath went shallow. “Can I kiss you?” I asked.
“Yes, please.”
It started soft and gentle, my lips brushing hers, my eyes drifting shut. A small sound escaped her lips and heat unfurled low in my belly. Everything but the slide of her tongue into my mouth, the pressure of her breasts against mine through the thin fabric of my swimsuit, fell away. My hands skimmed down her body, coming to rest on her hips, pulling her impossibly closer.
When Beth’s lips grazed over my cheek then down, I shivered and pulled away. Everything in me wanted to keep going. Wanted to lay her down on that picnic blanket and kiss every inch of her. But we were outside in broad daylight. Anyone could see us. Well, if anyone had been around, that was.
“Are you okay?” Beth’s voice was a little hoarse.
“Yeah.” The word came out harsher than I’d meant it. “Let’s swim.”
Without another word, Beth leapt into the ocean, popping up a few yards away from the churning water of her giant splash. Taking the safer, more sensible route, I walked over to a spot where the rock sloped gently into the water and...holy cow it was freezing. Like take-your breath-away ice cold. I couldn’t help it, I shrieked. High-pitched, and loud enough to echo back to my ears, mocking me.