“You think you’re some kind of marriage expert?” she fired at him.
“I didn’t say those words exactly, but I do counsel couples as a part of my job, Amara.”
“But you act like you and Mom had this perfect marriage before she died, and that it makes you some kind of expert on marriage,” she said.
“It wasn’t perfect. No marriage is, Amara.”
“Did you know, Dad?” she asked a question she’d been holding in for years.
“Know what?” He stood up.
It wasn’t fair of her to bring this up; Amara knew that. But he’d just accused her wife of cheating on her. She saw red. Nothing else mattered; not even his feelings.
“About Mom?”
“What about your mother?” he asked, more concerned now.
“Did you know that she…” Amara couldn’t finish. She lowered her head and shook it. “Never mind.”
“No, say it, Amara.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get Hill, and we’re going home. I don’t want to hear about this again, Dad. Hill didn’t cheat on me. I won’t tell her you’re the one that picked up the phone. I’ll tell her I took the call. She’ll take the news better from me. She would hate to know you suspected her of something this terrible.”
“Are you talking about the older Amara?” he asked after a long moment.
She swallowed and looked back up at him in shock at hearing that name, even though it was also her own.
“Is that what this is about?”
“Dad…”
“Your mother wasn’t a lesbian, Amara. If you think that she–”
“Dad, I don’t know what Mom was. We never will. I made peace with that a while ago.”
“But you and the other Amara talked, I take it?” he crossed his arms over his chest. “When?”
“When did you find out?” she asked back.
“When I helped you and Hillary move into that place you shared.”
“That was–”
“Years ago, now. Yes.”
“How?”
“I found your mother’s old Bible; the one that you found on my bookshelf. I had a moment of nostalgia and decided to flip through the pages. I had never done that before, because the book belonged to you, but I wanted to be close to your mother in that moment.” He sat back down in defeat. “It didn’t take much to figure out that they were close when they were young.”
“They were,” she agreed.
“And that Amara has been spinning tales to you about your mother.”
“Tales? What?”
“I spoke with her after I found the book. It took me some time – months, technically – before I worked up the courage. I confronted her, and she told me lies about your mother I can only assume she told you.”
“They weren’t lies, Dad,” she replied. “They were together.”
“They were friends. And Amara, obviously, thought it meant more than that.”
“Dad, you saw Mom’s notes in the Bible. You can’t deny that they were more than just friends.”
“Your mother loved me, Amara.” His eyes welled with tears.
“Of course, she did.” She moved toward him but stopped when he held out his hand. “Dad, Mom loved you. I don’t doubt that. I never have.”
“She wasn’t a lesbian.”
“I never said she was. Mom’s gone. We can’t ask her. But, I guess I realized it doesn’t really matter. Mom made her choices. She met you, fell in love, and you two had me. That’s what matters.”
“Amara, you haven’t told anyone else about this, have you? About your mother’s friendship with this woman?”
“Hillary knows. Some of my close friends know, too.”
“Why? Why would they need to know?”
“Dad, Hillary is my wife. I tell her everything. She helped me figure out who I am and who I wanted to be. She was there for me when I was figuring all this out.”
“And you didn’t think to clue your father in on what you were discovering?” he fired at her.
“No, because I couldn’t hurt you. Even tonight, when you made me so angry, I still couldn’t actually go through with asking you about what you knew, because I don’t want to hurt you, Dad.”
“We should stop talking about this,” he said suddenly.
“Why? I think it’s time we get this all out in the open. We’ve been hiding things from each other, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“No,” he stated and stood. “That’s enough. I think we’ve gotten it all out there. You and Hillary should go home now.”
“Dad, we need to keep talking.”
“No, we don’t,” he returned with conviction. “You said it before: your mother made her choices. You and I were her choices. That’s all that matters. Her friendship with this other woman–”
“Amara,” she said. “Her name is my name, Dad.”
He lowered his gaze to the cream-colored carpet he’d installed the previous year.
“You don’t think I know that?!” he yelled at her. “Ever since I met that woman and thought she was bad for you to be around, ever since I found out about…” He paused. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Amara,” he yelled again. “Never again.”
Amara had never seen her father like this. He’d been mad at her so rarely when she was growing up, she’d hardly ever heard him raise his voice. She couldn’t think of a time he’d ever yelled like this before. She felt the tears fall to her cheeks before she even knew she was crying. Then, she ran to the door, opened it, and rushed to find her wife.
◆◆◆
“Baby, please tell me what happened,” Hillary tried. “Amara?”
“I just need a minute,” Amara said through the bathroom door as she sobbed.
“Can I come in?”
“I need to clean up.”
“No, you don’t,” Hillary replied, opening the door slightly. “You don’t need to clean up for me. I’m your wife, Amara.”
She saw Amara with her back against the sink. The woman was wiping her cheeks of the tears that still fell with one hand and a with Kleenex in the other.
“I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be in–”
“Amara, please talk to me,” Hillary practically begged as she moved to stand in front of her. “Babe, what happened? We were having such a good day; two days, actually. What happened?”
“It’s too hard to talk about right now,” she replied.
Hillary wiped more tears away and asked, “Can you try?”
“I don’t want you to hate my dad,” she said.
“Why would I hate your dad, Amara?” She placed her hands on Amara’s hips.
“He said something.”
“About me?”
“Fucking Caroline!”
“Caroline? And did you just say fucking?” Her wife didn’t curse often. Just the fact that she’d said that word meant this was a big deal. The fact that she’d said Caroline’s name made things even worse. “What does she have to do with this?”
“She called my phone today.”
“Caroline called you?”
“He picked it up when we were outside.” Amara wiped another few tears. “I should just tell you I picked it up, but I don’t like lying to you, even if it is to defend him.”
“Babe, what did he do?”
“He answered when she called, and she was probably drunk. She said something about the two of you sleeping together.”
“What?”
“She said she still loves you and that you two…”
“Amara, I haven’t seen Caroline in years. You know she calls sometimes when she’s drunk. I don’t–”
“I know.” Amara placed her hand on Hillary’s cheek. “Baby, I know.”
“I’d never hurt you like that. You know that, too, right?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I love you,” Hillary said, feeling compelled to do so. “You’re my life, Amara. I don’t want anything to do with anyon
e else; Caroline especially.”
“I know.” Amara stroked her cheek with her thumb. “He didn’t trust that I knew that, though.”
“And you’re crying because you were defending me to your father? Should I go talk to him and tell him about Caroline’s problem?”
“No.” She shook her head rapidly. “I told him. I’m not sure if he believed me or not, but that’s not all that happened.”
“How could he think I’d do that to you?” Hillary asked, wrapping her arms more firmly around her wife’s waist. “Wait… What else happened?”
“He knows about Amara,” she said through fresh tears. “The other Amara.”
“He knows?”
“About her and my mom, yes. But he won’t admit that they were anything more than friends,” she replied.
“How did he–”
“He found the Bible when he helped us move.”
“In here?”
“Our old place,” Amara answered.
“That was forever ago.”
“He’s held onto it this whole time.” She pressed her face to Hillary’s neck. Hillary pulled her in tighter. “He got upset with me when I wanted to talk more about it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think he wants to deal with the fact that Mom might have loved Amara.”
“Well, it was clear that she loved her.”
“I know.”
“But I can understand why he wouldn’t want to entertain that thought.”
“I’ve never heard him yell like that.”
“He yelled at you?” Hillary asked, pulling back to look her wife in the eyes.
“Yes. I think it was more at the situation, but he yelled.”
“I know he’s your father, but I’m going to kill him,” she said protectively. “He has no right to yell at you about this when it was your mother and his inability to deal with the fact that she might have loved a woman before him that’s caused this problem.”
“Can we just go to sleep? I’m suddenly so tired.”
“We can do whatever you want,” Hillary replied. “I thought you wanted to take a shower, though.”
“Right.” Amara swiped her hands over her face. “I do need to clean up.”
“I’ll get in with you. Come on,” Hillary said.
She walked to the shower, turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature before she turned back to her wife. Amara blew her nose and tossed the tissue into the trash. Hillary reached for the hem of Amara’s shirt, lifted it up and over her head, tossing it in the laundry basket a few feet away. She reached around Amara’s back and unclasped her bra. Amara helped her get it off her shoulders, then undid her own jeans, and slid them off her legs. Hillary pulled her panties down her legs and left them on the floor next to her feet while she kissed Amara’s thighs slowly. She stood a moment later, removing her own clothes as Amara went to climb into the shower.
Hillary joined her wife, wrapping her arms around Amara’s waist from behind immediately and letting Amara lean back against her. They didn’t wash anything for a few minutes. They didn’t say anything either. Hillary just held her. Amara let out a sob every so often until they finally ceased, and she turned around in Hillary’s arms, wrapping her own around Hillary’s waist this time.
“I love you,” she said as the water fell around them.
“I love you.” Hillary placed her arms around Amara’s neck. “And I’m going to change our phone numbers.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s not taking the hint. It’s been years. She hasn’t gotten the help I’d hoped she would, and I don’t ever want you to worry about–-”
“I don’t, Hill.” Amara kissed her quickly. “I don’t, I promise.”
“Still.”
“If you want to change the numbers, that’s fine. I’ll tell the office to make sure not to give out my cell number, since I’m sure that’s how she got it.”
“I’ll talk to the phone company tomorrow.”
“Do it when we get back, babe. We have a honeymoon to go on,” Amara requested. “I don’t plan on having my phone turned on the entire time we’re away. I just want it to be you and me.”
“Should we still go, given what happened tonight?”
“You think I’m canceling my honeymoon because of a fight with my father?”
“Not cancel it; I was thinking we could postpone. We got the travel insurance.”
“Hillary Robins, we saved up for years to be able to afford exactly two things. One of them was this house. The other was this dream trip we both want. I’m not postponing for him.”
“Okay.” Hillary kissed her forehead. “If that’s what you want…”
“It is.”
“Let’s get cleaned up and get you to bed,” Hillary suggested.
“I liked the way you put me to bed last night much better,” Amara said with a small smile.
“We’ll do plenty of that on our honeymoon, I promise.” Hillary kissed her lips.
As she lay in bed, Hillary stared at her sleeping wife. It had taken Amara a long time to finally let sleep take her. She’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours before she’d finally settled. Hillary watched her. She wasn’t sure why she felt like she needed to, but she did. Perhaps, it was that protective instinct one felt for their spouse. Her wife didn’t need for her to rescue her, but it had taken everything in Hillary not to drive back over to that man’s house and yell right back at him for hurting the woman she loved more than anything; for even suggesting to Amara that Hillary could do something like that to her. Her eyes began to get too heavy to keep them open. After an hour or so of just staring at Amara and thinking about the day’s events, she finally gave into sleep.
◆◆◆
“Hey, you weren’t in bed.” Hillary kissed her on the lips.
“I woke up early. I didn’t want to wake you,” Amara replied.
Hillary sat down in the chaise lounge chair next to Amara. There was hardly enough room for two. They each had their own chair out here, but they usually ended up in the same one. Amara smiled as she hoped that never changed. She waited because she knew Hillary would slide, lean back, and spread her legs. When she did, Amara sat between them and lay against her wife’s chest.
“How are you?”
“Still tired.” Amara chuckled lightly “Apparently, every wedding is stressful, even if it’s ten minutes long and in front of a handful of people.”
“I don’t think it was the wedding,” Hillary suggested, kissing her temple.
“No, you’re right,” she admitted. “What should I do, Hill?”
Hillary tucked a strand of Amara’s auburn hair behind her ear and said, “Talk to him.”
“He doesn’t want to talk,” she said.
“He doesn’t want to deal with what happened. I can understand that. If I was him and you were your mom, and I lost you…”
“Hey, I’m right here.” Amara tightened her arms over Hillary’s around her waist.
“I know. I was just thinking about it last night. He lost her and had no idea that she’d had this great love before him.”
“You already know I didn’t have a great love before you. You are my great love.” She smiled at the thought.
“But that’s the thing: he thought that, too; probably because that was what she told him. She didn’t tell him about Amara.”
“Do you think she loved her more than she loved him?” Amara asked.
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll ever know that.”
“As much as I think I’d like to know the answers to many questions, I think it’s worse for him.”
“That’s why you never said anything,” Hillary replied.
“And I think he’s mad at me for that, too.”
“Let him be. I still think you made the right choice, Amara.”
“If I had told him what I’d found out, maybe things would be different right now, though.”
“Probably. But different doesn’t mean better
. And I think any time you saved him from having to wonder was a gift.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean: he got a few more years of thinking he was your mom’s only love. He had a few more years of not having those questions rolling around in his brain.”
“I guess.”
“We leave tomorrow, Amara,” Hillary reminded.
“I know.”
“Do you want to talk to him before or after we get back?”
“I don’t want to have this hanging over me on our dream trip.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Hillary asked.
“Yes. But would you mind if I talk to him alone first?”
“No.”
“I guess we should get dressed, then,” Amara said and then sighed at the thought of confronting her father again so soon.
◆◆◆
“I’m here if you need me,” Hillary said, kissing her on the cheek as they stood outside Amara’s old home.
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you.” Hillary squeezed her hand.
“Amara?” Her father seemed surprised to see them. “Hillary, hello.”
“Dad, I want to talk about this,” Amara began. “Hill and I are about to go on our honeymoon, and I won’t let this thing between you and me get in the way of that.”
“I don’t want that either,” he replied. “Come in.” He motioned for them to enter the house.
“I’ll stay down here,” Hillary offered.
“No, you don’t have to,” he said, sitting in his recliner. “Please, sit.” He motioned to the sofa. “Both of you. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, Dad. We’re fine.”
“Good. Good.” He nodded.
Amara kept hold of Hillary’s hand as they sat on the sofa together.
“Dad, I–”
“Before you say anything… I owe you both an apology.”
“You do?”
“Hillary, I am unbelievably sorry for what happened yesterday,” he began. “I shouldn’t have answered Amara’s phone, and I shouldn’t have ever thought there was a chance you–”
“It’s okay,” Hillary interrupted him when she could tell he was struggling to finish. “Caroline is my ex-girlfriend from many, many years ago. She and I ended long before I ever spoke to Amara.” She turned to smile at her wife and then returned her gaze to him. “She has a drinking problem. It’s one of the reasons we broke up. I had hoped she’d get help, but she calls and messages every so often. I tried, in the beginning, to get her to stop. But when she didn’t, I just stopped replying. There have been fewer calls, but she still reaches out when she’s really drunk. I am sorry she called yesterday, but you should know I’d never do anything to hurt your daughter. As much as she and I have been through together, I’d never risk any of that for something so stupid.”
San Francisco Series- Complete Edition Page 95