Choices

by Lyn Gardner

  “That doesn’t mean shit. You did it. Your mom did it. Adele did it. Why should Judy buck the...” Declan’s voice trailed off as his mind took him down a different path. “Robin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Judy doesn’t know.”

  “What?”

  “She doesn’t know how you feel. You never told her, Robbie, and you sure as hell never showed her.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Declan rolled his eyes. “Robin, your blonde is showing. Put the shoe on the other foot again.”

  “What?”

  “It’s one thing to have a crush on a teacher. It happens all the time, but when a teacher has a crush on a student, that’s a whole different ball game. There are laws against that.”

  “But nothing happened, and I’m not her student anymore.”

  “I know that, but since Judy has no idea how you feel, right now all she knows is she’s confessed to a former student that she’s been crushing on you since high school.”

  ***

  When Judy attended Sunday School as a child, she was taught that confession was good for the soul. She was told it would help set free the stress. She was told it would help set free the guilt, but someone forgot to mention it did nothing for the pain. Stepping into her apartment, Judy flipped on the light, shut the door, and after placing the last two bottles of hard cider in the fridge, she went into her bedroom. She thought the tears had ended, but as she slumped to the floor, her eyes filled again. Judy had come full circle.

  Much like the power in a battery, fading as the years had passed, before Robin had become a part of her life again, Judy’s feelings for the woman had dulled. They always existed in the dark crevices of her mind, a place she rarely traveled unless urges too strong prevented her sleep, but in an immeasurable moment of time, they had returned. For years, she had avoided thinking about the past, but as Judy sat on the floor, crumpled and sad, reflections flooded her mind.

  As she sat drinking wine and talking about a position she had no intention of taking, with a girl who was no longer a girl, a flutter deep within awoke. It was that flicker of awareness that convinced Judy not to take the job. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t...and then it rained.

  A downpour from the heavens soaked the street and the sidewalk. A rider towing a Burley through the storm. A screech of fright. A muddy puddle, and the most adorable drenched woman she had ever seen, yet Judy’s mind said no. It screamed it. It implored it. It demanded it, but in a whisper...her heart said yes.

  Over wine, bar charts, and filing cabinets, Judy had stolen glances, and bit by bit the teenager she remembered morphed into a woman. Age is rarely subtle, but in Robin’s case, it had made an exception. Her girlish prettiness had been replaced by a beauty only maturity can bring. The fine lines caused by laughter and happiness had yet to forever etch themselves in her face, but when amusement struck, they appeared, adding depth and charisma that took Judy’s breath away.

  The body language of youth, introverted and hesitant, had given way to an undaunted stride born from one who had walked enough miles to know the way, and the once angular teenager had gained just enough weight that her contours could very well have been sculpted by the masters. Judy left that night, never more aware of the heart beating in her chest, and when her head found the pillow, her mind raced. She wanted slumber to come for it would bring with it the dawn, but it would also bring a planned vacation one day closer. A vacation Judy no longer wanted...but duty was duty.

  She awoke the next morning with the exuberance of a child at a birthday party with tons of sugar surrounding them. Judy had no idea what to expect that day, but any expectations she may have had, paled in comparison to what she received. The sight of a woman, sleepy-eyed and rumpled, and a glimpse of a stomach toned and flat had created a smile wider than any Judy believed she owned. Later, an accidental chest bump ended with her hands on hips, shapely and soft, and she managed only a few words before her mind emptied. Captured in the spell of winter-blue eyes variated with gossamer ribbons of silver, Judy took an indiscernible breath, inhaling the scent of a fragrance rich in amber and patchouli. It was to die for.

  Throughout the day, her grins went unchecked. She watched as color drained at the mention of a ghost only for the lack to morph into scarlet from a playfulness unbridled by proximity. However, there was one moment of pause, a flicker of conflict when Judy heard the words ‘I always have.’ A quick escape was all that was needed to shake off the discomfort brought by bewilderment, but it reappeared again in another form.

  Sexuality was known, splattered all over the Internet in biographies authorized, yet when Robin confessed the secret that wasn’t a secret, its effect slithered through Judy’s body and landed at her core. Had Robin noticed the slight shift, easing the pang brought on by the affirmation?

  A spontaneous dinner invitation led to another spur-of-the-moment suggestion, a desire to show Robin the island Judy loved so much. Yet, beyond the history Judy could speak, beyond the trails and roads she knew would lead them to cemeteries and forts and homes lining the bluffs, and beyond all the ghost stories she knew by heart, there was something else driving Judy. A need she could not control, it was as old as it was new because attraction is formidable. Just ask a magnet when it comes upon a piece of steel.

  That night, consumed by the nervous energy spawned from anticipation, Judy cleaned every crevice of her apartment. Her hope had been to quiet her mind, to still its travels down paths forbidden, but she had opened Pandora’s Box when she accepted the job, and no matter how hard Judy tried, closing the lid was proving difficult. It had taken nearly three hours to dust, scrub, and polish, and three hours of mumbled scolding, growling condemnations, and shouted rebukes in her empty apartment before, showered and spent, Judy climbed into bed. Her thoughts were stilled. Her body was tired, and sleep came easily, and when she awoke the next day, Judy did it with a smile. How could she not?

  But Mother Nature threw a wrench into Judy’s plans. Winds too strong sent her mind into overdrive as she fought against gusts nearly knocking her over, but by the time she reached Safe Harbor, Judy had found her answer. It was easy, and the result would be the same. A day spent with Robin alone.

  They easily conversed as they drove to Petoskey, but a shift in direction took Judy down a retrospective path. Blindsided, her world became tinted in green as she listened to talk about sports cars and women. Obscured by the emerald, Judy spoke the truth as she saw it and her extemporaneous compliment caused goosebumps to sprout. She rubbed them away and pushed aside her jealousy, only for it to return at lunch at the mention of numerous drawers being dropped numerous times. Unaccustomed to the green-eyed monster, Judy’s reaction arrived without thought. Driven by envy, her tone became sharp and her attitude, curt, but seconds later, they were diluted by Robin’s penitence. Judy knew Robin owed her no act of contrition, no bowed head or apology offered for it was Robin’s right to have a life, to have a history that didn’t include Judy…no matter how unsettling it was.

  Her candor in the car hadn’t been the only truthful blunder, the only divulgence spoken when Judy’s guard was weakened. It was nice to hear Robin’s voice that night in Indiana. Even a busy day hadn’t lessened Judy’s desire to be somewhere else, and ‘funner’ had plastered a grin across Judy’s face so large, it took a moment before she could force a word through it. A clumsy question followed, and Judy’s cheeks flamed, but continuing the conversation was worth every millimeter of the scarlet she wore.

  A few days later, another phone call, and another night of awareness and honesty, and with the phone cradled, the card game preferred had been heard, and it had taken Judy’s breath away. Her mind opened, and her mouth closed, and seconds ticked by before Robin’s assumption gave Judy the answer she sought. A comment about resuscitation, while innocent, had brought an answer unexpected, and weakened by the possibility, Judy spoke the truth again. After all, she had covertly checked out Robin’s form enough to
know exactly what kind of shape it was in.

  Eight days of dinners without the interruption of a ferry horn followed. Eight days of pacing the porch, debating whether she should call, but each time Judy went to do just that, she pocketed her phone instead. She walked the orchards at night, replaying their previous conversations in her head over and over again. Had her guard slipped so much that Robin had picked up on the truth, a truth that repulsed her, and a truth she would have preferred not to know? Is that why Robin no longer called? Was she sending a message with her silence?

  Judy’s answer came on the ninth day when the simplest of explanations erased over a week of worry in an instant. Robin hadn’t read between the lines, and Judy’s secret was safe, and when ‘I really like you’ slipped from Judy’s lips, it carried with it a truth spoken from her heart...even though like was putting it mildly.

  The decision to cut short her vacation was an easy one, and while no stop was needed for wallpaper, one was made for something else. Running with another would be in Judy’s future, and she needed better than what she owned. Outdated and faded sweats were replaced by the latest in fashion, and color coordination became important for mismatched would no longer work, thus the need for a few new pairs of running shoes as well. Sports bras were also pulled from the racks as were sweaters, corduroys, and jeans, and even though Judy refused to acknowledge she was buying with only one person in mind...Judy was buying with only one person in mind.

  Over the next few weeks, Judy’s emotions continued to teeter-totter. They rose toward the heavens when she returned to Mackinac and exited the atmosphere when she was able to touch Robin’s hair, the strands silky and lustrous between her fingers. But what goes up must come down, and a lumberjack upended Judy’s euphoria, and a best friend’s visit almost destroyed it.

  It was a moment unforgettable. Awareness reminded Judy of the truth, and she regrouped almost instantly, but the wound of the original impression was gaping. Declan on one knee. Robin gazing at the ring. The inability to breathe followed by the excruciating pain of impending loss. The jealousy, the hatred, the embarrassment, the disgust, the anger, and the need to escape. As if looking through a child’s kaleidoscopic toy, the images and feelings changed with every twist of the cylinder until Judy’s stomach was in knots.

  Repulsed by her own stupidity, Judy’s need to leave was swift, and with the realization she had no entitlement, no right to feel the things she was feeling, she made it home in record time. It was a weekend filled with self-deprecating remarks mumbled out loud in an empty apartment and dealing with dogged brothers who wouldn’t take no for an answer. At the time, Judy had no idea that those same brothers would give her the excuse she needed come Monday when her disparaging mood followed her into Safe Harbor.

  Apologies and a childish race beat the last ounce of Judy’s foul attitude into submission, and with the win came a day of running and whimsy spent in the sunshine, but on Friday, the abrupt arrival of a past lover turned Judy’s world upside down.

  Hatred was screeched, and vileness oozed, but the aftermath of the tempest is what left Judy reeling. Too much blood and a woman, unconscious in her arms. Tears that wouldn’t stop until the sirens were heard. The agony of hiding emotions while others were near, and pretending she just entered the bedroom...when she hadn’t.

  Judy had stood there, blinking away the tears and gathering her wits. She told herself they were friends. She told herself she had to be a friend. She had to care and to tend without doing either too much, and she did until an unreachable clasp, and the feel of skin, warm and smooth sent Judy running toward the door. Privacy was important, but the effect had heated her face far beyond embarrassment.

  The arrival of a new day brought with it walls that came down. Commentary followed and answers long sought were finally found, although one explanation hadn’t been needed. Judy knew all too well what it felt like to be in love.

  Wounds healed and the holiday arrived and with it came flowers, their purchase neither an afterthought nor haphazard. Each bloom Judy had handpicked from the florist’s selection of autumn colors to guarantee one popular seasonal hue would not be included.

  The perfect morning blended into an almost perfect afternoon, the only faux pas coming when Judy recognized a debt of gratitude was owed to a maniac. Robin’s change of address coinciding with Pam’s existence didn’t sit well, but after an apology and a snowball, the day returned to being perfect.

  Later that night, with bellies filled and wine bottles emptied, Judy was safe and content in Robin’s world. Untroubled and relaxed in her surroundings her defenses weakened, and Judy became lost in the dream of another. Her purpose was to say good night, to bid farewell until tomorrow, but parted lips and shallow breathing beckoned Judy. An urge undeniable, she became the steel to Robin’s magnet, but as she felt the warm caress of Robin’s breath on her face, sensibilities returned and with them...they brought a gasp.

  Judy’s return to Safe Harbor the next day was slow, its pace set by a sleepless night replaying the memory of the near kiss she almost bestowed on Robin. It would have forever destroyed their friendship, and wary, Judy came into Safe Harbor not knowing what she would face, but firewood and decorating erased her worries.

  Easy banter followed, and the day played out. Wood was stacked, and trees were erected, and then Judy found her hands on Robin’s hips…again. God, how her body rushed at the touch, igniting her soul and her heart in a flash fire like no other, its embers refusing to die until she escaped to a basement, cool and quiet. And it was in that basement when secrets of another would eventually force Judy to reveal her own.

  Judy wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She had been so successful at burying feelings that once stirred, evading at all cost the remembrances of the past that she had forgotten the strength of joy’s embrace. Happiness was tenacious. Lust was potent, and love held in its grip the brute force of the undeniable and Judy shook her head. Disavowing was no longer possible. She had dug her own grave.

  She glanced at the piles of gifts scattered around her apartment. All were wrapped in paper and ribbon and topped with bows shiny and new, but none had Robin’s name attached to them. Judy had browsed in bookstores smelling of paper and coffee. She had contemplated in boutiques featuring the latest in fashion. She had pondered in shops featuring lotions, fragrant and soothing, and squaring her shoulders, Judy had even entered a store glittering with gold and diamonds.

  That one had been her downfall for it held within its cases of glass so much she wanted to give. Judy knew love wasn’t contained in necklaces or rings. It wasn’t held in the amalgam that created platinum or silver. It was extravagant. It was corny. It was sentimental, and it was her...or rather it was who Judy had always wanted to be for Robin.

  Judy sniffled again, and as she let out a long breath, she began pulling every suitcase she owned out from under the bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Robin pedaled up to the little house, and gliding to a stop by a tree, she propped her bike against it. Taking a deep breath, she yanked off her cap, ran her fingers through her now shortened hair, and walked to the front door. Filling her lungs again, she pressed the doorbell, and as soon as the door opened, she quickly said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you slammed the door in my face.”

  The two spots of rouge on Maxine’s cheeks rose an inch. “Are you a Jehovah’s Witness?”

  “No,” Robin said, unable to stop a grin from forming.

  “Then you’re safe,” Maxine said, waving Robin inside. “And I love what you’ve done to your hair. Very stylish.”

  Robin rubbed the back of her neck. “Thanks,” she said, and reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a bag and handed it to Maxine.

  “What’s this?” Maxine said, taking the package.

  “I seem to remember you enjoying the coffee we shared at my house. I blend my own beans, and...um...and I thought you might like some.”

  “Oh, you are a woman after my own heart,
” Maxine said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “But don’t take that the wrong way.”

  Robin chuckled. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  A few minutes later, Maxine placed two empty mugs on the kitchen table and then slipped into the chair next to Robin’s. “Coffee should be ready in about eight minutes.”

  “You’ve got it down to the minute?”

  “When you’re my age, every minute counts,” Maxine said with a twinkle in her eye. “But I doubt you’re here to talk about my age.”

  “I came here because I want to apologize for the other day. I was acting like an ass, and you didn’t deserve that. It was inappropriate, and I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Maxine said, patting Robin on the hand. “But I think it was more than called for, Robin. Your mother should have told you.”

  Robin shrugged. “She had her reasons. It’s not for me to understand them. I just have to accept them.”

  “My third husband used to say it was water under the bridge, and you either allow it to sweep you out to sea, or you swim to the shore. Your choice.”

  “Well, it sure as hell dashed me against the rocks.”

  “But it seems you survived intact.”

  “Not without a few aches and pains.”

  “Oh?”

  “I had one hell of a hangover the next morning,” Robin said, and then she jerked back her head. “Wait. You were married three times?”

  “I was married four times,” Maxine said with a laugh. “I divorced two of them and outlived the other ones.”

  “Wow.”

  “I wasn’t always this old and wrinkled, Robin. I was quite the cat’s meow back in the day.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Robin said, and hearing the coffee maker beep, she pushed herself out of the chair. “I’ll get that.”

  After filling their mugs, Robin sat down, taking a tentative sip of her coffee before raising her eyes to meet Maxine’s. “I walked through the house this morning, looking at all the photos Adele had taken, and I couldn’t help but feel a little sad.”