Ginevra was silent for a minute and then said, “Would you stay with me?”
“I…”
“I’m used to having people around me all the time. I like being with people. Just…would you stay and talk to me?”
She heard Helen sigh. “Of course,” said the acupuncturist. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Tell me about yourself.”
Helen gave a dry laugh. “There’s not much to tell. Grew up here on the coast. The usual driven family. All the classic immigrant clichés: I did very well in school, my family wanted me to be a doctor, marry a lawyer, the usual.”
“Aren’t you a doctor?”
“Yes. But not the right kind of doctor. My parents were appalled when I finished med school and went back to China to study traditional medicine. But I like having that mix of knowledge. And besides, I needed to get out of here for a bit. I’d spent my whole life stagnating in California suburbs.”
“And the lawyer?” Ginevra asked, fighting the wave of drowsiness that was threatening to overtake her.
Helen laughed again. “I dated a law student during college for a few months. But I couldn’t exactly bring her home. My parents only recently found out about my…leanings. My father disowned me.”
“Seriously?” Ginevra wanted to sit up but Helen caught her in time, resting one hand in her hair to keep her from moving.
“Yeah, seriously. And now my mom’s sick – cancer - but my dad won’t let me see her, let alone help treat her. I mean, I’m not saying that acupuncture can cure cancer, but it can help manage the pain and alleviate a lot of the symptoms. But he won’t let me anywhere near her. My brothers have to send me updates. They try to implement whatever suggestions I make – if it comes from them my father listens – but they can only do so much. They’re both accountants. And so far my father has refused to bring in another Chinese doctor. He came here because he believed in the American dream and now he refuses to have anything to do with China and our culture and traditions. It’s such a stupid waste. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking him to take her out of chemo…just to let me help!” Helen cried out, frustrated. Then she remembered who she was talking to. “Christ, I’m so sorry. Jesus, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I swear I’m usually way more professional.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ginevra mumbled, losing the battle with sleep. “Your mother’s got cancer. That’s a perfectly good reason not to be professional.”
Helen snorted. “Just let yourself go to sleep, Gina,” she said. “You don’t need to listen to my moaning.”
“My mother died,” said Ginevra softly, “when I was a teenager. It destroyed my dad.”
“I’m sorry,” said Helen.
“It’s okay. It was years ago. She had cancer too. Who doesn’t these days? Breast cancer. Back then nobody did those self-exams and everything. It took her nearly a year to die.”
“God,” Helen whispered.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.” It was getting harder and harder to form words. “But if you want to talk, I’m here all week. I mean it. I know you don’t know me through a hole in the wall, but I…I know how this feels.”
“Thanks,” Helen whispered. Gently, she took Ginevra’s hand in her own, stroking the back with her thumb. “I could do with a friend right now,” she admitted.
“My…pleasure…” said Ginevra as, finally, she fell asleep.
When Ginevra came to, Helen was taking needles out of her back. “Nngh,” she mumbled. “How long was I out?”
“Twenty minutes or so,” Helen smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” said Ginevra. “You really are good at this.”
“Well,” Helen smiled self-deprecatingly, “I have been doing it for over a decade now.” She slid the last needle from Ginevra’s skin and patted the other woman’s back. “All done. You can sit up.”
Without thinking, Ginevra did just that, stretching her arms above her head. Helen froze, holding the used needles in one hand. A faint blush rose in her cheeks as her eyes darted across Ginevra’s lean torso and generous breasts. She met Ginevra’s eyes and Ginevra smiled predatorily. “Do you like what you see?” she asked coquettishly.
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Helen replied drily, turning away to dispose of the needles in the hazardous waste receptacle.
Ginevra chuckled and stood up, pulling on her bra.
“So, are you taking advantage of a fellow lesbian’s family crisis to get laid or do you actually want to be friends?” Helen asked.
“The latter,” Ginevra replied, correctly interpreting the question as the half-joke that it was. “But I wouldn’t say no to the former. It’s been a while, if you want to the honest truth. And the way you go around in those skinny jeans is nearly criminal.”
Helen’s lips twitched and she eyed Ginevra appraisingly. “How long did you say you were here for?” she asked again.
“A week. Then I’m touring around some vineyards. My assistant says I need to ‘go big or stay home’ because there’s no point in a one week vacation – it’s basically just a long weekend.”
“Very wise,” said Helen.
Ginevra chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly the first time I’ve heard Sam referred to as wise, but I’m sure she’d be pleased.”
“Well, do you want to grab a drink tomorrow night? Just a drink. I’m not going to sleep with a guest.”
Ginevra nodded. “I would love that,” she replied. “And, just out of curiosity…do you like wine?”
“Yes,” Helen replied, clearly trying to figure out where this was going.
“I only ask because I don’t really know the area and I was thinking it might be nice to have a local show me around a bit between wine tastings. Next week, I mean. After I leave the resort.”
Helen smiled. “I’m sure we could find someone to help you out,” she replied.
“The staff at this place really do go above and beyond,” Ginevra said.
“We aim to please,” Helen gave Ginevra a crooked smile. “Tomorrow night then?”
“Tomorrow night,” Ginevra agreed. “And thanks – I really do feel great. That reflexology massage was amazing.”
“Any time,” said Helen. “I’m here all week too.”
Ginevra nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter 4
The next night, Ginevra waited on the patio for Helen to be done her shift. She was wearing her favourite summer dress. At first glance it looked perfectly casual with its lace detailing, cute capped sleeves, and short-but-not-that-short skirt. But the keyhole neckline provided a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage and the thin fabric clung to her curves in all the right places. In celebration of her vacation, Ginevra hadn’t straightened her hair since arriving and her curls made a dark, hazy halo around her head.
“Hi, sorry, there’s always some last minute paper…work…” Helen paused in the middle of stuffing a binder into a cloth satchel. Judging by her expression, Ginevra looked as good as she felt. “You look…” Helen began. “I feel underdressed,” she finished, glancing down at her striped shirt, usual black jeans, and lace up black boots.
“I dunno,” said Ginevra. “I’ve always liked the androgynous look.”
Helen laughed, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Well, I’ll go butch tonight then, shall I? My car’s just this way.”
They drove into the next town, pulling up at a nondescript restaurant that, in any other circumstances, Ginevra would have driven right by.
“It doesn’t look like much but they do the best fish and chips on the West Coast,” Helen informed her, killing the engine. “And have an excellent selection of local craft beers. Plus, we won’t run into anyone from the resort here.”
“Perfect,” said Ginevra.
Helen led the way into the restaurant, choosing them a table on a large wooden balcony that jutted out over the dark water. It was strung with strings of warm, white lights, giving the place a fe
stive air, despite the quiet. There were only a few other couples on the balcony and the only sounds other than their soft conversations were the far-off waves and the faint strains of Leonard Cohen’s Sisters of Mercy.
“Very quaint,” Ginevra said.
Helen smiled, settling herself across from Ginevra. “I guess it’s not much compared to what you’re used to in Washington. Sally told me you’re some kind of crazy PR spin wizard over there.”
Ginevra laughed. “Well, I don’t know if I’d describe my job in exactly those terms, but yeah, something like that. And don’t worry. I like this. Like idyllic California, the glitzy political life has its downsides. It’s nice to try something different.”
“Fair enough,” Helen allowed.
They ordered quickly and settled back to watch each other and the ocean, making small talk as they skirted the bigger issues. It wasn’t until the last of their fish and chips had been carted off and Helen was on her second beer that she asked, “What happened to your dad?”
Ginevra sipped her gin and tonic thoughtfully. “He had a heart attack a few years after my mom died, in my first year of college. He went quickly, at least. But he never really recovered after she died. He tried. He knew I still needed a dad, but there was only so much he could do. My aunt took care of me for the most part.”
“I’m sorry,” said Helen.
Ginevra shrugged. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“Did they know you were gay?” Helen asked.
Ginevra shook her head. “My aunt did. And I think my mother guessed. But I was still working up the courage to tell my father. I don’t think he would have taken it well. But that’s a moot point now, I guess.”
“Do you regret not being able to tell him?”
“I don’t really know,” said Ginevra. “Sometimes yes and sometimes – like when I think about how badly he could have taken it - no.”
Helen nodded, sipping her beer.
“Do you regret telling your parents?”
She pulled a face. “Yes and no,” she replied. “No, because they’re my parents and I want them to love me for who I am and yes, because now I can’t see my mother.” She blinked suddenly and pressed the palm of her hand to her eyes.
“Hey. Hey, now,” Ginevra leaned over the table and tugged Helen’s hand away, holding it in her own. “Don’t cry,” she said.
Helen gave her a watery smile. “I just really miss her,” she whispered, sniffing viciously to keep her tears from escaping.
Ginevra reached across with her free hand and wiped away Helen’s rogue tears with her thumb. “I know, honey,” she said. She brought Helen’s hand up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. “I know.”
Helen’s chin trembled and Ginevra slid onto the chair next to hers, cradling the other woman to her as she broke down crying. Stroking Helen’s dark hair, Ginevra held her tightly, waiting for her sobs to subside. The waitress, coming towards the table, paused, unsure. Ginevra gestured for the check and the girl nodded, disappearing back inside.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Helen straightened after a few minutes, rubbing at her face with the back of her hands. Her eyeliner smeared and she came out looking like a very depressed panda. Ginevra bit down a smile and passed her a napkin. “I’m being so embarrassing. I’m really—”
“It’s okay,” Ginevra said. “It’s your mom. You don’t have to apologise.”
Helen sniffled into the napkin. “I must look like shit,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Ginevra, smiling. “But very endearing shit.”
The other woman laughed, trying hopelessly to clean up her makeup.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Ginevra.
“God, please,” said Helen as the waitress returned with the bill.
“My treat,” said Ginevra, taking the bill. “You’re showing me the sights, remember?” she continued, when Helen opened her mouth to protest.
Helen shook her head but didn’t have the energy to fight.
Helen drove them back to the resort and they sat in her car when they got there, looking out over the darkened grounds.
“You’re the bottle it all up and only rely on yourself type, aren’t you?” Ginevra asked after a minute of silence.
Helen laughed wryly. “What gave me away?” she asked rhetorically.
“Takes one to know one,” Ginevra smiled. “I had a really nice time tonight,” she continued. “Thank you.”
“Now you’re just lying to me. I got mascara all over your dress.”
Ginevra shrugged. “I have a very good dry cleaner back home. And I meant it. I really did. I’d…do this again, if you wanted.”
Helen bit her lip. “I would like that,” she said softly.
“See you tomorrow then?”
Helen nodded. The two women eyed each other across the gear shift before Ginevra reached forward, pulling Helen to her in one swift, desperate move. Their lips collided hot and greedy and Ginevra buried her fingers in Helen’s hair as the other woman slid one hand around her neck and one hand along her breasts, her nimble fingers teasing Ginevra’s nipples through the fine yellow fabric of her dress. Ginevra moaned into Helen’s mouth.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” At the sound of Ginevra’s moan, Helen pulled away, putting her hands up in between them. Both women were panting. “Not while you’re a guest.”
Ginevra groaned. “Right,” she said, trying to get control of her breathing.
“My job—” Helen began.
“No, no, you don’t need to explain. You’re the one in the right here,” Ginevra interrupted her. “I’m behaving very poorly.”
Helen’s eyes flicked over Ginevra’s yellow dress and she half-smiled, half-grimaced. “I’m not really complaining though, am I?” she said.
“I check out on Sunday,” said Ginevra. “We’re grown women. Professionals. We can wait that long.”
“For sure,” said Helen, her voice strained. “Definitely.”
Ginevra opened the car door then paused looking back at Helen. “Can I still come for acupuncture?” she asked.
Helen laughed. “Please do,” she replied.
**
Two days later, Ginevra was back in Helen’s acupuncture office. She’d tried to keep herself occupied with yoga and cooking classes and the various hikes that the spa offered, but her mind kept coming back to Helen crying on the restaurant balcony. She felt like there had to be something she could do to help. Back in Washington, her job was more or less fixing other people’s problems, and it wasn’t often she found one that she couldn’t resolve.
Helen came out of the back room with her phone in her hand and looking harried. “Gina! Oh God, could I ask you the most enormous favour?”
“Of course,” Ginevra answered. “What’s going on?”
“Johnny – my youngest brother – just texted. Apparently Dad’s going off last minute to a speech that Governor Young is giving at a new golf course up the coast. He’s a huge Governor Young fan. Anyway, he’ll be gone all afternoon and Johnny thought I could try to get in to see Mom, but I don’t get off work until 8 and Dad’ll be back by then.”
“You want to cancel our appointment?” Ginevra interpreted.
“I—” Helen looked torn. She clearly wanted to do her job but was also desperate to see her mother.
“Of course,” Ginevra said. “Do you want moral support? That way if anyone asks I can truthfully say you were with me.”
Helen laughed. “In case I need an alibi? I’m visiting my mom, not murdering someone. But yeah, a bit of moral support wouldn’t be a bad thing. I haven’t seen her in months. God knows what state she’ll be in.”
Ginevra, who remembered all too well her mother’s cancer and chemo-ravaged body, wouldn’t have let Helen go alone even she’d turned down the offer.
“Let’s go break into a hospital, then,” Ginevra grinned, grabbing her purse.
Helen smiled back, but her smile was decidedly frailer.
Helen’s mot
her was staying in a hospital half an hour down the coast and Helen made it there in record time, all too aware that they had less than two hours before her next appointment. All the same, when they arrived, Helen stayed in her parked car, both hands on the wheel and staring through the windshield as if contemplating driving off again.
“We’ve got to hurry,” Ginevra reminded her, keeping her voice gentle.
Helen nodded.
“No matter what she’s like, you’ll be glad that you saw her. I promise.”
Helen glanced over at her new friend. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “The last time I saw her she was healthy.”
Ginevra laid her hand over one of Helen’s, weaving her fingers through hers. “You can do this,” she said.
Helen swallowed hard and got out of the car.
Johnny, a tall, good-looking man in his late twenties met them in the cancer ward waiting room. “Hey, sis,” he said, giving Helen a quick one-armed hug. “This your girlfriend?” he asked, nodding towards Ginevra.
To Ginevra’s surprise and pleasure, Helen blushed. “No,” she replied tartly, giving her brother a smack on the arm. “She’s just a friend.”
“Too bad,” said her brother. “I’m Johnny,” he smiled at Ginevra, offering her his hand. “If Helen’s not your type, you can always—”
“Johnny,” Helen ground out, clearly used to reigning in her exuberant younger brother.
“Right, right, sorry. Not the place.” Johnny turned back to his sister and laid a hand on her shoulder. “She’s right over there in room 203,” Johnny pointed to a room on the far side of the waiting room. “You want me to come in with you?”
“Does she know I’m coming?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She wants to see you. Don’t worry about that.”
Helen nodded. “I’ll go by myself.”
Johnny and Ginevra watched Helen as she disappeared into her mother’s room. As the door closed behind her, Johnny heaved a sigh and plunked himself down in one of the blue waiting room chairs. Delicately, Ginevra perched on the edge of the chair next to him.
Jack (Secret Revenge #1) Page 63
