by Radclyffe
Leslie laughed. “I think you’re crazy.”
Dev grinned. “See? Some things don’t change.”
v
As Leslie undressed for bed, too tired even to shower, she remembered the
conversation in the kitchen.
Some things don’t change.
She marveled at just how much everything had changed. How much Dev,
especially, had changed. Dev was so much less angry now, and sure of herself in
ways she’d never been as a teenager. Physically, she moved with conÞ dence,
and she clearly owned her sexuality. It didn’t take seeing her with Natalie to
know that. The image of Dev standing in the kitchen just hours ago with that
foolish apron slung around her muscular hips or sprawled in a chair on the porch
with a cup of coffee in her hand gave Leslie a hungry feeling in the pit of her
stomach. Dev was sexy without even trying.
But then, she’d always been sexy, although Leslie hadn’t consciously
acknowledged that. Looking back, she appreciated how intriguing Dev had
been as a teenager, with her dark moods and rebellious dress and refusal to
conform. She realized just how attracted she’d been to Dev and what she’d
done when awareness had crashed in upon her in one hot, wild instant. She ß
ushed with embarrassment.
Dev was far more forgiving of her actions back then than she was. There were
times like tonight when the burden of guilt felt as if it might crush her. As she lay
down, exhausted but too keyed up to close her eyes, she wondered who Dev
saw when she looked at her.
• 101 •
• 102 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER TWELVE
At Þ ve thirty the next morning, Leslie made her way up the path to the lodge
just as the sun broke over the horizon.
She stopped before climbing the steps and turned to watch the morning dance
across the glassy surface of the lake. Orange and magenta streaked the sky and
reß ected off the blue water so brightly she shielded her eyes with one hand.
She’d seen it thousands of times growing up and hadn’t thought of the silent
beauty for years, but it hadn’t lost its power to enchant her.
“It never gets old, does it?” Dev said quietly from the shadows of the porch.
She walked forward to lean against the railing.
“I’m not sure why not,” Leslie said almost to herself. “Maybe because I’ve
never seen a painting or a photograph as beautiful.”
“No, it’s not something we can capture or re-create. I guess that makes it
special.” Dev watched as the emerging sun highlighted the angles and planes of
Leslie’s face that had not been there in the softness of youth. Her hair glinted
with gold; her eyes mirrored the crystal blue waters. She was beautiful now, as
she had been then, unique and familiar as the dawn.
Leslie hesitated on the top step, struck by the pensive note in Dev’s voice. The
expression on her face was hard to decipher. She looked a little sad, but her
eyes were warm as they caressed—that was how it felt, caressed—her. Leslie
shivered, unable to look away and not wanting Dev to, either. She hadn’t
expected to see Dev so early and wondered if Dev had gone back to her cabin
at all the night before.
Then she noticed that Dev had changed from her jeans and T-shirt into khaki
pants, a dark shirt, and work boots. She looked solid and steady and Leslie felt
oddly comforted.
• 103 •
RADCLY fFE
“You always did make me feel safe.”
When Dev jerked, Leslie realized she’d spoken aloud.
“Did I?” Dev asked quietly. “I always had the impression that everyone thought
I was kind of scary. Or maybe just a little crazy.”
“I never did. You know that.” Leslie wanted to tell her how she always felt
braver when she was with Dev. As if Dev’s differentness allowed Leslie to be
just a little bit different too. To be someone other than the girl all her friends and
even her parents expected her to be.
But she didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t go back there now. It made
her sad. It made her wish for things she couldn’t have and didn’t have time for.
And there were things she had to do. “I forgot some of the things I need to bring
to my mother. I wasn’t at my sharpest last night.”
“There’s coffee,” Dev said, walking inside with Leslie. “That might help.”
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Some. Enough. You?” The lights had been out in Leslie’s cabin when Dev had
passed it on the way to her own the night before. For one crazy instant she’d
considered walking up the path and tapping on Leslie’s door. What she would
have said if Leslie had answered, she wasn’t sure. Now, in the light of day, she
was glad she hadn’t. The pull of the past was powerful, but it was obvious that
Leslie had no desire to revisit it. And neither should she.
“I slept on and off,” Leslie said. She looked around the dining room and saw
that Dev had already set out plates and utensils and that the big coffee urn was
full. She grasped Dev’s arm. “This is terriÞ c. I can’t thank you enough. I
should’ve thought to come up and do this myself…”
She wasn’t thinking clearly at all and wondered why not. It was true that her
unexpected illness and this impromptu visit had totally disrupted her normal
routine—she hadn’t been to the gym, hadn’t had a decent meal, hadn’t had a full
night’s sleep in days, no, a week now.
Still, when she’d been involved in a particularly difÞ cult trial there had been
long stretches when she hadn’t slept or eaten or exercised, and she’d never lost
her focus. Never forgot things. Never found her mind wandering into the past or
musing about things she couldn’t change or control.
• 104 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I just got here, Les. Besides, you need to get to the hospital.
We’ve already discussed this, remember?”
“Why are you doing this, Dev?”
The question surprised Dev. Leslie so rarely revealed the slightest bit of
vulnerability. Her armor was very effectively established by her elegantly
understated blouse and slacks, her designer shoes, her expensive haircut and her
subtle but perfect makeup. But Dev wasn’t looking at any of those things. She
was looking at the shadows beneath Leslie’s blue eyes and remembering the
way her hands had trembled the night before.
“The easy answer would be because I used to be in love with you.”
Leslie’s laughter was part shock and part embarrassed pleasure.
“I’m afraid to hear the hard answer, then.”
Dev shrugged and slid her hands into her back pockets, unconsciously canting
her hips forward the way she used to when she was feeling insecure and wanted
to act tough. “I know all that’s in the past, but I can’t help feeling that we’re still
friends. And that’s what friends do, isn’t it.”
Leslie rested her palm against Dev’s chest and leaned close to kiss her on the
cheek. “I guess it is. Thank you.”
Dev stood completely still as Leslie turned and disappeared up the wide curving
staircase to the second ß
oor, where her parents had their bedroom. If
everything between them was in the past, why did being near Leslie still make
her feel better and worse than anything she’d ever experienced, all at the same
time?
Since she didn’t know the answer, and doubted she ever would, she settled for
doing something that did make sense. She went to the kitchen to make breakfast
for ten.
v
“You don’t have to stay here all morning,” Eileen said to Leslie when Leslie
returned to the surgical waiting area for the fourth time after stepping outside to
make a phone call.
“Sorry,” Leslie muttered as she sat down beside her mother in the surprisingly
comfortable chair. The waiting room was carpeted, with
• 105 •
RADCLY fFE
small seating areas arranged so that families could have some privacy.
She and her mother sat alone in the far corner next to several windows that
looked out over a small landscaped seating area with trees and stone benches.
The smokers congregated there. “Just a couple of things I need to take care of
at the ofÞ ce.”
“I guess you can never really go on vacation.”
“If I didn’t take care of things,” Leslie said, crossing her legs and resting her
head against the back of the chair, “they’d just be there waiting for me. The
problems don’t go away just because I’m not there.”
“No.” Eileen sighed. “The ostrich approach is tempting, but I’ve never known it
to work.”
Leslie laughed. “True on both counts.”
“I mean it, though. I can call you when the doctors come out. It’s likely to be at
least another hour.”
“I’d rather stay.” Leslie looked at her watch. Her tests were scheduled for three
that afternoon, across the street at the outpatient medical building. Unfortunately,
she would probably be able to get there in plenty of time. She felt ridiculous
wasting several hours when she felt perfectly healthy. Other than the
embarrassing episode she’d had in front of Dev the day she’d arrived, she’d
only had one other very brief period of the irregular ß uttering sensation in her
chest—just after she got out of bed that morning. It couldn’t have lasted more
than twenty seconds. In fact, it was over so quickly she wasn’t certain it’d been
anything at all. “Are you planning to stay here tonight too?”
“It depends on how your father’s doing. I thought I might, especially with the
truck acting up.”
“That problem is going to be solved very quickly. If I have time this afternoon
I’m going to put it out of its misery. Do you think Daddy wants another Jeep?”
“I think we should probably wait to ask him. I’m not certain we’ve budgeted for
a new truck this year.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Leslie said.
“Leslie,” Eileen said, “it’s a generous offer. I appreciate it. I really do, and so
will your father. But it’s not your responsibility.”
Responsibility. Was that what it was called when you did something for
someone you loved? What was it called when you didn’t? Leslie knew the
answer. It was called cowardice.
• 106 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
The sun coming through her bedroom window was so bright, it hurt Leslie’s
eyes. It hurt her head. It made her queasy. She rolled onto her side and closed
her eyes tightly, wishing the morning away. Maybe she could go back to sleep
and the next time she woke up, it would be Sunday and she would be ready to
leave for college. She could leave and pretend that last night had never
happened. She wanted to cry, but her eyes were swollen and her throat raw
from too many tears already.
Tears and, she remembered now, being so sick somewhere around two in the
morning that she’d wanted to die.
Sometime after Dev had left the party, she’d had too much to drink. Way too
much. The beer and wine—she remembered sharing a bottle or maybe two with
Shelley—had made her sick, but it hadn’t made her forget the sound of Mike’s
foot thudding into Dev’s body, or Dev’s soft moans, or her own screams.
Shelley kept asking her what was wrong, and Leslie hadn’t been able to answer.
What could she say? Mike hurt Dev and it’s all my fault? Dev kissed me
and I let her. I didn’t mean to let her. I didn’t mean to kiss her back. It was
a mistake. Wasn’t it?
Leslie tried to go back to sleep but she could hear the guests getting up and the
sounds of activity outside her open window. The boathouse was probably a
mess, and she really ought to clean up down there before her parents saw it.
Groaning, she dragged herself from bed and wobbled on shaky legs into her
bathroom. She was afraid she might vomit again, but she was sure there was
nothing left to throw up.
She was never going to drink that much again. She was never going to let
anything like last night happen again. She was never going to let anyone kiss her
like that again.
She’d never let anyone close enough to get hurt by her mistakes.
She kept the shower on cold and stood shivering with her arms wrapped around
herself, hoping to drive out the sickness and the feel of Dev’s body and the heat
of her mouth and the terrible sound of someone’s heart breaking. When she Þ
nally felt like she could face her parents without them being suspicious of the
way she looked, she dried her hair and dressed and went downstairs.
“Hi, honey,” Eileen Harris said. “I’ve still got plenty of breakfast left. There’s OJ
in the refrigerator. You want pancakes?”
Wanting to clamp her hand over her mouth at the sudden surge of nausea, Leslie
turned quickly away and pretended to be looking out the
• 107 •
RADCLY fFE
window. “No thanks, not yet. I think I’ll just have a Pepsi and go down to the
boathouse. I want to make sure all the trash got bagged.”
“Pepsi in the morning? You should eat something.”
“I will. Later.” Leslie started toward the back door, wanting to get away before
her mother looked at her more closely.
“I’m so glad you had the party here,” Eileen said, carrying a stack of dishes to
the counter. She opened the dishwasher and began loading it. “And I’m glad
that your friends are all responsible. Thank God they’re all too sensible to ride
motorcycles.”
“What?” Leslie said, only half listening.
“Some local teenager had a terrible accident on a motorcycle last night.”
Leslie stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Her heart pounded furiously and the
queasy feeling in her stomach coalesced into a hard knot of dread. “Accident?”
“Mmm. Someone crashed their motorcycle on Lakeshore Road last night. Up
north from here a bit.” Eileen lifted two cast-iron skillets from the stove and
propped them up in the sink. “Your father heard something about it on the
news.”
Leslie managed to walk out the door and across the porch before she vomited
over the railing into the bushes. When she was done, she collapsed into one of
the chairs. She knew it was Dev. She just knew it.
Dev had been drinking, but not a lot. Dev was a good rider, but she was hurt.
And she must’ve been angry too. Angry with her, and with Mike.
Mike. Mike had left right after Dev. He’d been gone almost an hour. He wasn’t
angry when he came back. He would hardly talk to her, not that she wanted to
talk to him. And he was drinking a lot, even more than usual, off in a corner with
some of his friends.
She knew it last night, and she knew it now. Something bad had happened. She
should say something. She should tell her mother. She should tell someone that
it was all her fault.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been home for a while,” Leslie said.
After a moment’s silence, Eileen said, “I wish things were different now. What
with your father—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad I’m here.” Leslie took her mother’s hand.
“Now, about that truck.”
• 108 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Eileen laughed weakly. “Your father will always be a Jeep man. If it’s anything
other than black or green, he won’t drive it.”
Leslie smiled. “God forbid we get him a yellow Hummer.”
“If you do end up getting one, we’ll pay you back. I’m just not sure when.”
“Mom, come on. I can afford it. It’s not a big deal.”
“All right,” Eileen said carefully. “Then if I can’t get you to agree to take money,
why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Not when it’s your mother doing it.”
Leslie wanted to pace. She wanted to abort the conversation. She didn’t have
an answer, not one she was ready to share, especially not when her mother
already had her father to worry about. Not one she could even verbalize
completely to herself. She forced herself to sit still.
“I haven’t taken any real time off in years, and I was due for a vacation. When I
thought about getting away, the only place I thought about going was here.”
Leslie knew it was true. Maybe not all of the truth, but some of it. She met her
mother’s eyes, surprised by the uncritical welcome in them.
“It’s funny,” Eileen said quietly. “I had the feeling when you left for college that
you couldn’t wait to get away, and I’ve never understood why.”
“I guess it must have seemed that way. I’m sorry.”
That was as much of an answer as Leslie could give, because anything else
