Fiona laughed. “Can do.”
Talking about Em brought back so many emotions for Prairie. They had been so close, lovers, and then, no more than long-distance friends. Prairie drew a deep breath and gave a little shrug. She leaned back into the sofa and focused on being with Fiona as they watched Liam play with his array of toys on the floor. If this was all she could have with Fiona, it would have to be enough. Prairie closed her eyes, and remembered when they were so much more.
TWO
Prairie & Fiona
2.1—1971
The Base Exchange at RAF Lakenheath, England, was busier than Prairie preferred. It was jam-packed with shoppers ranging from housewives of every age and size, to active duty military members in and out of uniform. It was bumper-to-bumper shopping carts, as she often quipped. It was also her first time shopping at the BX since arriving on base.
Upon her arrival at the BX, Prairie immediately regretted it had to be on a Saturday. Preferring the quiet of midday, midweek, Prairie had been working overtime all week, and Saturday was the only day she had off for the next seven days. At this rate, having driven around the parking lot four times, it would take her entire day off just to get through the BX mob.
Not even in-country for a complete month, Prairie was already covering leave shifts for co-workers and would be for the next month. The two pairs of hospital scrubs she’d been wearing weren’t cutting it—she needed at least five more to make her life a little easier. Prairie shrugged slightly and rolled her eyes. With limited options, she reluctantly accepted she would just have to make do with the crowd.
Dodging the onslaught of carts of whole families, the unmarried, and military wives doing more milling about and visiting than shopping, Prairie thought about her job at the hospital. She smiled to herself as she marveled at how much she loved it. It was everything she hoped it would be when she got her orders out of Tech School. Working long hours and extra shifts was rather tough, but it kept her out of trouble while she honed her craft. Everyday she felt her skills with her patients improving, which proved to be more of a high than almost anything. Almost. She smiled.
Her biggest problem so far was housing. Since her arrival, because base housing was full, Prairie had been living at a local bed and breakfast in Mildenhall Village called The Bell Hotel, compliments of the U.S. Air Force. It appeared as if she’d worn out her welcome when just the day before her supervisor told her she needed to find other accommodations by the end of the month—six short days away.
Prairie actually didn’t mind the eviction given her hotel roommate insisted upon having noisy sex with her boyfriend every night—in the twin bed next to hers. It would be so nice to actually go to sleep without feeling the need to stay on guard in case the boyfriend decided at some point that Prairie was available for the taking.
It was the short notice that made her feel a bit panicky knowing how busy her work schedule was going to be for the next few months. If she ever got out of the BX, Prairie planned on checking out a few rooms for let from local residents.
Stressing about time, Prairie stopped her cart in the music section in front of a display of newly released albums, and stood on her tiptoes, trying to figure out where the hospital apparel might be. Of average height, standing on her tiptoes was not serving her well.
“Excuse me,” she said softly to a young woman who was leaning against the display, reading an album cover. “Do you know where they keep scrubs? Y’know, hospital wear? This is my first time here, and…”
“Oh. Hang on…” The woman put The Yes Album she was holding back in the rack, careful to put it back where she found it.
Prairie’s quick visual assessment noted the woman was wearing bell-bottomed jeans, hiking boots, and a maroon, Mildenhall Marauders hooded sweatshirt with yellow lettering. She stood about two, maybe three inches taller than Prairie, but Prairie quickly deduced that at least two of those inches were all hiking boot. Though the stranger wore loose fitting clothes, based on her experience working with bodies every day, Prairie would wager a month’s pay there was a pretty nice body under it all.
There was definitely ample bosom that couldn’t be hidden, even under a bulky sweatshirt. Prairie suppressed a smile. Considering herself a breast woman, Prairie, who had her own healthy set of ‘taters, as she called them, figured anything as good or better than her own was perfect.
The woman’s shiny light brown hair was straight in a pleasant way, just past shoulder length, and swung with a sensual fluidity when the woman moved her head even slightly. From Prairie’s perspective, those big, light brown eyes with perfectly arched eyebrows, the slightly turned up nose, square jaw, perfectly proportioned lips and bright white and slightly imperfect teeth made for a spectacular viewing experience with lots of potential. Oh no. A small, gold band adorned the ring finger on her left hand. Aw, what a waste, Prairie thought, immediately disappointed.
The woman turned her attention to Prairie. “Sorry. I kind of like to put things back where I found them. Quirk of mine. So you’re new?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Prairie replied, struck by the friendly and unmistakably amused smile on the woman’s face. “Not brand new, but, you know…”
“New enough to be lost in the BX.”
Prairie flashed her famous smile. “Pretty much.”
“They’re over there,” the woman pointed to the far corner. “Kind of hidden, but once you find them, they seem to have a lot. You over at the clinic?”
“Yeah, the 48th. Ortho—physical rehab,” Prairie said with pride. “I’m Prairie, by the way. Prairie Vaughn,” she said, holding her hand out to the stranger.
“Fiona. MacIntyre. Nice to meet you.”
“Fiona. That’s nice. Hmmm. Mildenhall,” Prairie stated, noting Fiona’s sweatshirt. “Gateway to the UK, right?” she quoted the RAF Mildenhall slogan with a hint of amusement. “Your husband at Mildenhall?” Prairie asked, taking the wedding band and the hint of British accent into consideration.
“What? My husband… no, I… I…” Fiona began to blush fiercely as she sputtered. “I’m a photographer there… I mean, at Mildenhall… I’m not married. I’m active duty Air Force,” she said almost defensively.
Prairie died inside for a moment. “Oh boy… I’m sorry, I just assumed because of the sweatshirt, and the ring… the accent… I…” She blushed. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” Fiona glanced at her wedding band. “This? Self defense. You’d think I’d be used to being mistaken for someone’s wife,” Fiona’s laugh was self-conscious. “But it always takes me by surprise. My family’s English, well partly…” Fiona’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to get into the particulars of her background with a stranger.
“Photographer, hey, that’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” Prairie leaned on the wood album rack, keen to change the subject, though intrigued by Fiona’s need for self defense.
“Yeah, I really love it.” Fiona beamed with joy.
“What kind? I mean, news photos, or…”
“Oh, I do all sorts, for different purposes. I enjoy the variety. I don’t know how long that’ll last. Last week I went up and did some aerial work in a C130 which was grand. It was my first time…”
“Oh, bitchin’!” Prairie exclaimed, instantly impressed.
“It’s just we’re a little short-handed, so I’m kind of their utility player right now.” She shrugged. “It’s all hunky dory.” Fiona flipped her hair behind her shoulders, one side at a time.
“I know what you mean,” Prairie replied, instantly enjoying the conversation with Fiona. “Have you been in England long?”
“Hmmm… about a year. A little more than that, I guess. I don’t keep track. I’m not your typical time junky like pretty much everyone else around here. I actually love it here,” she laughed. “Everyone seems to know the exact minute they got here, how long they’ve been here, and how long ’til they leave down to the second. It seems a bit obsessive to me.”
Suddenly, t
he worry about time and everything Prairie had to do seemed to disappear for her as she and Fiona stood at the album display talking. Upon arrival in the UK, Prairie had immediately immersed herself into her work and hadn’t had an opportunity to get to know anyone outside of the job. There was a quiet magnetism about Fiona that pulled Prairie to her, making her forget about everything else. Fiona, generally a quiet person who kept mostly to herself, her only friends being co-workers, found Prairie quite engaging and enjoyable company.
~/~/~/~/~
Relaxed, thoroughly enjoying what seemed to be an instant friendship, Prairie, as a force of habit, checked her wristwatch. She gasped. A full hour had already passed. “Oh no…”
“What happened?” Fiona asked, immediately concerned. “Is something the matter?”
“Oh gosh, no, but…” Prairie fretted. “This is my only day off for the next seven days.”
Fiona cocked her head, puzzled. “And…?”
“It’s just that, I… I have to find a place to live by the end of the month. I only have today to do it. I’m sorry, I…” Prairie felt she needed to run and began getting antsy.
“Dear me. Is Lakenheath short on housing, too?” Fiona’s concern was genuine.
“Apparently. I’ve been staying at The Bell Hotel in Mildenhall Village, but..” The more they talked about it, the more Prairie felt she was going to freak out.
“I have a room you could rent,” Fiona immediately offered without even thinking.
Prairie reared back slightly. “What?” she asked, amazed at her sudden and amazing luck. “You do?”
“Yes. My little carriage house has an extra room I’ve been meaning to let out, but I haven’t advertised it or anything. I don’t want just anyone, you know what I mean? It’s cozy, which means small, and a little drafty, which means it’s freezing a lot of the time, but what’s most important is, it’s furnished and the rent’s cheap.” Fiona smiled and shrugged. “You know, we could try it out, anyway… if you wanted to. It would buy you some time, anyroad,” Fiona added, using an English expression that made Prairie smile, bemused. In addition to being really sexy, Fiona was also an interesting character. Prairie almost felt giddy over their chance meeting.
~/~/~/~/~
On the way back to her hotel, Prairie stopped by Fiona’s carriage house, which was part of what used to be a large estate. From a quiet little street, Prairie entered an opening in an ivy covered brick wall that was wide enough for an American car. It led to a courtyard with the main house at the backend of the open area where the carriage house was actually part of the brick wall.
At the end of a short tour of the converted carriage house, which consisted of a small bedroom and bathroom to the left of the house, a living room and open kitchen in the center of the house and a smaller bedroom still to the right, Prairie stood in the middle of the small kitchen. She stared out onto the courtyard through the rain-drizzled and slightly foggy windowpanes that ran the length of the carriage house’s kitchen wall, beaming with satisfaction.
“Well, what do you think?” Fiona asked, hoping Prairie would rent the little room.
“This is perfect,” Prairie exclaimed. “I’ll take it!”
2.2—Moving Day
The big day had arrived and Prairie was nervous and excited all at once. She and Fiona had managed to meet for tea at Mickey’s Tea House in Mildenhall twice in the six days since they had first met to work out the rental arrangement and get to know each other a little better. Her nerves weren’t about wondering whether she and Fiona were a good fit or not because they were—almost too good of a fit.
Reluctantly, Prairie found herself thinking of Fiona whenever she allowed her mind to drift aimlessly—inevitably landing upon Fiona. She couldn’t tell if Fiona felt the same, but it didn’t matter. Prairie got such a thrill being around her that it would only be a tremendous bonus if Fiona liked her back.
On a typical English day—cold and cloudy, with a constant drizzle—Prairie wore scrubs and her military-issue parka. The parka was technically not issued to her by the Air Force, but she had a friend in Supply in Alaska who was able to score the jacket for her. It was Prairie’s most prized possession, and perfect for England. It had a hood with faux fur around the edges and went mid-way down her thigh, keeping her warmer than most who relied on their Air Force issued fatigue jackets, which were no match for English weather.
Prairie arrived at Fiona’s door with an Air Force issue duffel bag, two light blue Samsonite suitcases and a matching makeup case which she used for toiletries.
“Hey,” she greeted Fiona who opened the door for her, smiling broadly at the sight before her.
“Hiya,” Fiona said.
“This is all I have for now.” Prairie tried to bring in all of the luggage at once, looking like a moving sculpture of some kind. “My stuff doesn’t arrive for another three or four weeks—and to be honest, there’s not much of that.” She began to huff and puff slightly. “I travel lightly.” She beamed.
“I see,” Fiona laughed. “Do you need help? I mean… I’ll…”
“No, no, I’ve got it,” Prairie insisted as she dragged the lot into her room. “See?” she announced, ceremoniously closing the door behind her. “All done!”
“Would you like some tea?” Fiona asked. She was home from work and dressed in jeans, a plain gray, hooded sweatshirt, and big powder blue fluffy slippers.
“I would, but I have to get back to work. I’m working a double—covering for someone on leave this week,” she regretfully explained.
Fiona was visibly disappointed. “Aw, bugger.” She was really looking forward to the two of them sitting down and having their first tea as roommates.
“Yeah, I won’t be home ’til really, really late. Or really, really early, I guess is more accurate. I promise I’ll be quiet when I do come in, though.” Prairie flashed her famous smile and then headed to the door. “Thanks again for saving my ass, Fiona. I’m looking forward to getting settled in. But now, I gotta jet. See you tomorrow!” Prairie dashed outside to her car, jumped inside, and within seconds of starting the engine, quickly backed her car out of the courtyard.
“Ta,” Fiona said more to herself as she stood at the door and watched Prairie leave.
2.3—Popsicle Toes
Prairie burst through what was considered the front door, and the only door, of the carriage house she shared with Fiona. Along with her came a blast of Arctic and Siberian air, along with a small flurry of snow. Rather than melt immediately once it hit the floor, the small flakes lingered longer than usual.
“Holy shit, it’s brass monkeys out there!” Prairie exclaimed, her cheeks bright red from the stinging cold. Despite her beloved parka, layers over her scrubs, a wool scarf, thick woolen mittens and a matching cap knitted by her sister, the native Montanan felt frozen through and through. The 1968 Morris Mini-Minor car Prairie bought for one hundred pounds sterling was lacking any type of heat, which was bad enough in and of itself, but the floorboard had also just recently revealed rusted out holes, which only aided in turning her car into an icebox on wheels.
After working a twelve hour shift at the hospital, Prairie had been looking forward to hunkering down for the weekend in a warm, cozy little cottage with her hot roommate. A little reading, some telly, lots of tea, music and relaxing were all she could think of when she burst through the door.
“Hello?” Prairie expected to find Fiona camped at the small wooden kitchen table where she almost always was, reading by the warmth of the stove where she often had something delicious baking in the oven. But Fiona wasn’t there, or in the small living room. The carriage house was nearly as cold inside as it was outside. “Brrr! What the…? Helloooo?” she called out again.
“I’m in here!” Fiona’s muffled voice came from her bedroom, through the closed door.
Prairie quickly made a beeline to Fiona’s room and timidly opened the door, unsure of what she would find.
“Hurry, hurry!” Fiona urged fr
om under a pile of blankets on her double bed, the middle of which she was camped. “Get in and close the door! Hurry—you’ll let the heat out!” She, too, wore a knit cap and a scarf, but that’s all Prairie could see of her—just a head peaking out from many, many layers of clothing and blankets.
Prairie quickly entered the room and closed the door. Heat? What heat? she wondered, shivering.
“What the holy fuck is going on, Fi? Why is it so damned cold in here? You know it’s like Siberia outside, right? It started snowing on my way home. Brrrrr…!” Prairie began to stomp her feet in order to warm her body up just slightly, having a little Montana déjà vu. “Wait! Did you see that?” She forced air out of her mouth into the room. “Haaaaaa! Is that fucking fog coming out of my mouth?” Prairie exclaimed in disbelief. “Holy shit!”
Used to extremely low temps and an abundance of snow, the wet English air and snow were much different from the dry winter conditions Prairie was used to at home in Montana. The wet made everything so much colder, chilling her right to the bone.
“Yeah…” Fiona sighed. “There’s something wrong with the heater, or the oil, or… I don’t know. I couldn’t get the heat going this morning so I called Basil.”
Prairie looked vexed. “What’s a baaazil?”
“Our landlord,” Fiona explained.
“Ah.”
“As it happens,” she continued, “he and his wife Trudy are in the States until week after next. I had to track him down—somewhere in Manhattan—and then wait for a ring back. By the time all that happened, no one was available to come and fix it until perhaps tomorrow. The girl on the phone didn’t sound real certain. Apparently, there’s an epidemic of broken heaters in the village.” Fiona’s teeth chattered intermittently, giving Prairie an unexpected chuckle. “Funny, yeah?” Fiona shook her head in playful disbelief.
Prairie Fire Page 3
