by Lyn Denison
Irritatedly Mel flung herself out of bed. She couldn’t bear it a moment longer, wallowing and churning over what might or might not have happened or what might or might not happen in the future. Apart from that, lying in bed was far too conducive to thinking about Crys and, moments of weakness or not, Mel knew she still wanted the other woman, wanted to feel Crys’s arms around her again, wanted to take her to bed, to make love to her forever.
Mel could hear no movement from Crys’s bedroom, so she forced herself to leave her room and went tentatively into the kitchen, but Crys wasn’t there either. With a small sigh of relief Mel busied herself going through the motions of putting on the coffee and dicing some fruit. Crys liked fresh fruit with her cereal. She set the table and poured herself a cup of coffee.
She gazed out the window at the beauty of the dew-damp green lawn, the trees, the clear morning sky. This was a beautiful place, and she’d grown to love the peacefulness, the calmness it engendered.
But what if Crys asked her to leave? Would Crys do that? Mel had to admit it could happen. And what would she do if Crys did want her to go? She realized now just how much she wanted to stay.
With a sinking feeling, Mel realized she hadn’t exactly been gracious when Crys drew a halt to their embrace. In fact, she’d been quite cutting, asking Crys if she thought Mel was so desperate for sex she’d even take it with a woman.
Mel suddenly realized what she’d said, and she cringed. What had possessed her to say that? It would have sounded to Crys like — Oh, no. What else could Crys have thought Mel was implying? Only that she, Mel, was straight. There would be no reason why Crys would think any differently. She would also be under the misapprehension that Terry had been a man, just as Mel’s mother was.
Mel took another sip of her coffee. She’d have to try to find some way to tell Crys the truth. Her mother as well. It had all become so complicated, and a small lie by omission had become a fully fledged web of deceit.
Sighing dejectedly, Mel turned slightly, and there, standing in the kitchen doorway, was Crys.
“Good morning. You’re up early,” Crys said evenly enough, although to the supersensitive Mel she sounded a little wary.
“Yes. I thought I might as well start breakfast.”
There was a moment of unsettled silence.
“Shall I pour your coffee?” Mel put in quickly and Crys nodded, moving into the room.
“Thanks.” Crys sat down at the small table, and Mel carefully set Crys’s cup of coffee by her plate of cereal and fruit. “Thanks for this, too.” Crys indicated the food in front of her.
“That’s okay.” Mel sat down in her chair. She felt compelled to look across at Crys. “I woke up early.”
Their gazes met, skittered away, and then Crys sighed.
“Mel, about last night. I think I should apologize.”
“You don’t have to. It’s okay,” Mel said quickly. “Forget about it. I already have.” What a mammoth fib that was, she accused herself, and glanced across at Crys again.
Crys’s expression was unreadable. She absently spooned some sugar into her coffee. “I don’t want us to feel uncomfortable with each other,” she said carefully. “Maybe we should talk about it. Clear the air.”
Mel swallowed. And suddenly she wanted to shout at Crys to stop. She felt like a gauche teenager, and she didn’t want to hear Crys say it all over again, that she was flattered, that she loved Mel, but not in that way.
Because, regardless of the past and adolescent crushes, Mel was beginning to suspect she was way past all that, that she was well on the way to loving Crys in exactly that very way. And Crys simply wasn’t interested.
“It doesn’t matter, Crys.,” she said as evenly as she could. “We were both tired. You were upset. I just meant to, you know, comfort you.”
Crys deliberately stirred her coffee. “I see. Well then, perhaps you’re right. If you’re sure, we’ll just forget it.”
“Yes.”
Crys looked across at Mel, and something flickered briefly in her eyes, a flash of emotion Mel was almost sure was regret. Mel’s nerve endings sprang to attention. Had Crys wanted to…? What if Crys…? Mel’s mouth went dry.
Maybe Mel should tell Crys the truth now. Well, part of it, the part about Terry anyway, sort out that particular misconception. She was trying to decide just how to bring the topic into the conversation when the telephone jangled and they both literally jumped at the sound.
Mel was the first to recover, and she reached out to take the receiver from the kitchen extension on the wall.
“Hello. Mel speaking,” she said a little breathily.
There was a moment of silence that echoed down the phone line.
“Hi, babe. How are you?”
Mel’s fingers fumbled and she almost dropped the phone. “Who…? What…?” But Mel recognized the voice immediately.
CHAPTER NINE
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me so soon, babe?” Terry’s familiar voice held a note of teasing, and Mel knew the other woman was smiling.
“Oh. Hi.” Mel swallowed. “I, how are you?”
“Comme ci comme ca. You know how it is.” Terry paused. “I’ve missed you, babe,” she added, her voice low.
“You have?” Mel said stiltedly, so aware of Crys sitting opposite her. Would Crys be able to hear Terry’s voice?
“Of course I’ve missed you. I wish you’d stayed here in Melbourne. When are you coming home?”
Mel pulled herself together. How dare Terry ask that when she was the one who had been responsible for Mel leaving? “I’m not, Terry,” she said levelly. “I can’t imagine why you’d think I would be.”
There was the sound of Crys’s chair moving, and Mel looked across to see Crys getting to her feet. She mimed to Mel that she was going over to the shed. And Mel could only watch impotently as Crys turned and left Mel alone with her phone call.
“Why wouldn’t I? I do miss you, babe.”
“Oh, sure.” Mel changed hands, her arm stiff where she’d tensed at the sound of Terry’s voice. “And stop calling me that, Terry. You know I never liked it.”
“Never?” Terry laughed softly. “I distinctly remember you used to go crazy when I whispered that in your ear when we made love.”
“Where’s what’s-her-name?” Mel asked deliberately, and she heard Terry sigh.
“Maureen and I decided we’d go our separate ways.”
“I see.” Mel realized she was totally unmoved by this revelation. “How did you find me, Terry?” she asked and Terry gave a soft laugh.
“It sure wasn’t easy. I eventually got onto your sister, and she gave me your number. She told me you were staying on a farm, of all things.” Terry laughed again. “I somehow can’t imagine you down on the farm.”
“Amber gave you my number?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t she give your number to your writing partner, Marie-Therese? So, what’s the story with this farm you’re staying at? Is it some health farm or something? Because, believe me, babe, you don’t need to do anything to that beautiful body of yours.”
“It’s not a health farm. It’s” — Mel paused — “just a farm. But Crys grows different types of wild food.”
“Cris?” Terry picked up on the name. “As in Christine or Christopher?”
“Does it matter?” Mel searched frantically for something to say to change the subject, but her brain seemed to be working at half pace.
“Hang on a minute,” Terry was saying. “Now I get it. Your sister said you were staying with a friend of your mother’s. Cris? Isn’t that the woman you had the hots for when you were a kid?”
Mel glanced guiltily around to make sure Crys hadn’t returned. She knew what Terry was like. Mel would have to tread carefully or Terry wouldn’t let the subject go. “As a matter of fact, Crys was our next-door neighbor in Brisbane. I’m helping her out for a few weeks.”
There was another short silence. “So are you picking up where you left off? M
aking up for lost time.”
“Terry, you’re being ridiculous.”
“She must be getting a bit long in the tooth if she’s your mother’s age,” Terry continued. “Not that hard up, are you, babe?”
Mel bit back an angry retort. If she protested too much, she knew Terry was more than capable of reading between the lines. “Crys is a family friend. That’s all. So what are you ringing me about anyway?”
“Sounds as if you’re still brassed off with me. Are you, Mel?”
“What do you think, Terry?” Mel said sarcastically. “That I’d see having someone I loved betray me as simply being an exercise in character building?”
“I guess I deserve that.” Terry sighed. “And I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”
“I’m sure you are.” Mel bit out the words tersely.
“I am. Really. And I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice. Can’t I ring you and tell you I miss you?” Terry’s own voice had dropped cajolingly again. “Aren’t you glad I miss you, lover?”
“Terry, please!”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Mel. Maybe a long-distance phone call isn’t the right way to be discussing this.”
Mel took a deep steadying breath. “Stop playing games, Terry. What do you really want?”
Terry sighed exaggeratedly. “All right. But I did want to talk to you, too. Actually, I’ve finished the book and I wanted to get it to you. I told Tommy you’d have the illustrations done as soon as possible. We are under contract, so if I express post the manuscript up to you do you think you can get them done within a couple of weeks?”
“A couple of weeks?” Mel exclaimed. “We haven’t even discussed the story.”
“Well, I didn’t know where you were. It’s no big deal, Mel. I used the characters from the last book. We were going to do a story about Wendy the Wombat, remember? Well, this is it. What do you say, Mel? I mean, we re professionals, aren’t we? We should be able to work together regardless.”
Mel sighed. “Did you tell our editor that we’d split?”
Mel heard Terry pause and knew the answer before the other woman spoke.
“The subject didn’t come up. All Tommy’s interested in is the final product.”
Mel suspected that was true, and she sighed. “All right. I’ll get the illustrations done. When you send the manuscript you’d better add any ideas you have.”
“Oh, I’m full of ideas. You know that,” Terry murmured.
Mel felt like slamming the phone down and to hell with the book. But as Terry said, they did have a contract and it had to be honored.
“You know what I mean,” Mel said wearily.
“So where shall I send it?” Terry asked, and Mel gave her the address.
“Okay. It’ll be there tomorrow. Well, I guess I’d better go.” Terry paused again. “Thanks, Mel. I’ll be in touch, babe.”
Mel set the phone back on the hook and sat staring at the remains of their breakfast. She’d just spoken to Terry. After six long months of silence. And Terry said she missed Mel, that her romance with Maureen was over. If this had happened any time in the previous six months Mel would have been over the moon. Wouldn’t she?
She tried to analyze her feelings. She’d been surprised, shocked even, to hear Terry’s voice. But that was all. No surge of excitement. No glow of pleasure. Mel quelled a spurt of guilt. After spending six years with someone she should feel more than that, shouldn’t she?
If Terry walked in now, how would she react? Mel asked herself. She suspected she’d be simply annoyed. Did that make her superficial? Shallow? Or had she simply moved on, put Terry and her infidelity, her betrayal, behind her?
Mel stood up, made herself concentrate on clearing away the dishes. She’d almost finished when the phone rang again.
Mel paused. Surely Terry wouldn’t ring back so soon. She picked up the receiver and hesitantly answered.
“Mel?” Amber’s voice made Mel’s tense muscles relax and she sat down.
“Oh. Hi, Sis!” she said thankfully. “How are you?”
“Fine. Apart from wanting to draw and quarter a couple of so-called tradesmen.”
Mel laughed. “That sounds like the universal cry of the home builder.”
“I guess. But I’ve told Adam he has to get serious with them. If they play this male buddy-buddy stuff much longer, we’ll still be waiting for the house to be finished at Christmas.” Amber sighed. “Enough of that, though. I just wanted to tell you that I gave Crys’s number to Marie-Therese. She rang me last night looking for you. Was that okay?”
“Sure,” Mel replied evenly. “As a matter of fact, I’ve just spoken to her. I forgot to let her know I was coming down here to Uki.”
“That’s okay then. And I suppose, knowing Mum, she had you whisked away before you could tell anyone.”
“That about covers it.” Mel laughed.
“And how are things going down there? Are you enjoying seeing Crys again and are you having a good time?”
“Yes to both. I really like it down here.”
“I thought you would. You and Crys always got on well.” Amber seemed to hesitate. “Is Crys with anyone at the moment?”
“No,” Mel replied carefully. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Amber said offhandedly. “It’s five years since Diane died. I just thought she may have met someone. But getting back to what I rang you about. I don’t usually pass out phone numbers, but I thought you wouldn’t mind if I gave it to Marie-Therese. She seemed very nice, Mel.”
“Mmm,” Mel murmured noncommittally. “She wanted to send me the next book to start working on. How are my nephew and niece?”
Amber waxed poetic about her offspring, and then they said good-bye.
So Amber had thought Terry sounded nice. Well, when Terry wanted anything she could be exceptionally nice.
Mel sighed. What was the point in being bitchy? Mel told herself she was over all that. She had to let it go.
Half an hour later Mel found Crys shoveling seed through a sieve. As she approached the other woman, her gaze irresistibly skimmed over the curve of Crys’s bent back, the rounded swell of her buttocks, and Mel felt a tantalizing flutter of pleasure wash over her.
Crys moved, bending her back as she worked, and Mel’s attention was drawn to the rounded fullness of Crys’s right breast as it strained against her shirt. Mel’s step faltered, her knees going weak as she knew an instantaneous, almost overwhelming urge to gently follow the line of those incredibly sensual curves with the palm of her hand.
She coughed slightly to clear her suddenly dry throat, and Crys straightened and turned to look across at Mel as she put down her shovel.
“I’ve brought you fresh coffee.” Mel held out the mug, wondering how she hadn’t dropped it in her agitation. “You didn’t finish your other one.” Somehow she got her legs moving and covered the space between herself and Crys.
Crys took the coffee and smiled. “Thanks.” She took a sip. “Mmm. You do make a great cup of coffee,” she said easily.
Mel smiled back. “Want me to do some shoveling for a while?”
“Sure.” Crys set her coffee mug on a shelf. “And I’ll do some sifting.”
“That was Terry,” Mel said before she realized she had said the words.
Crys paused. “So I heard.” Crys changed her mind and picked up her coffee again. “Is everything all right?” she asked gently.
“All right? Oh. Yes. I was, well, just a bit surprised to get the call. It’s been over six months.” Mel bit her lip, trying to find the words to explain that Terry and Marie-Therese were one and the same.
“So what happened between you two?” Crys was looking into her coffee mug.
“Just the usual.” Mel shrugged. “Another woman.”
“I’m sorry. That’s so painful,” Crys said sympathetically. “You feel betrayed.”
“Yes. That’s exactly how I felt,” Mel agreed. “I think that was what hurt the mo
st. The subterfuge. The dishonesty of it all.”
Crys nodded. “And are they still together, Terry and the other woman?” she asked evenly.
Mel shook her head. “Terry said they weren’t. When it happened I couldn’t see it lasting. I told Terry so at the time, but…Anyway, that’s the way it goes.”
Mel shoved her hands into her pockets. “Actually, it was Marie-Therese who wanted to get in touch with me. She’s finished the book and is sending me the manuscript so I can do the illustrations,” Mel said quickly. “Our editor wants them pretty much straightaway, so I’ll have to get busy to have them finished in time.”
“That’s no problem, Mel. You know you don’t have to work out here. Take as long as you like to do your illustrations.”
“Thanks. It’ll probably take me a couple of weeks. But I can help you when I’m taking a break.”
“There’s no need.” Crys finished her coffee. “So Marie-Therese asked Terry to call you?” she said, not looking at Mel as she put her cup down.
“Um, no. Not exactly.” Mel hesitated.
“Was Marie-Therese the other woman?” Crys asked, and Mel’s jaw slackened in surprise.
“No, of course not. What made you think that?”
Crys shrugged. “Terry ringing you for Marie-Therese. And you don’t talk about either of them very much. I just put two and two together and thought I’d made four.” She gave a crooked smile. “But I should have known, I never was very good at math.”
“It was a young art student named Maureen. She took one of Terry’s classes,” Mel told her. At least that was true. “Well, guess I’d better get started or it’ll be lunchtime before we know it.”
Mel stretched and sat back from her work. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and glanced at the clock. Crys would be leaving in less than half an hour. Mel stood up and paced around the study.
Crys had asked Mel to go out to dinner with her and meet her friends, but Mel had declined, pleading the need to work.
Terry’s manuscript had arrived the day after Mel spoke to her on the phone, and Mel had been working on the illustrations ever since. She’d stayed home working when Crys went to the market last weekend, although she had helped Crys load up the truck with her seedlings, her jams and jellies, and some potpourri Crys had been experimenting with, all to sell at her stall.
