by Kim Pritekel
"Yeah. She was devastated. I've never felt like more of an asshole as I did that day, Jill. I thought I did the right thing for me, hell, I did do the right thing for me, but she was truly devastated. I've never watched Denny shatter into a million pieces until that day. She just seems so lost, and yeah, I do wonder if that has something to do with it."
"Why doesn't she open another shop? Maybe something different this time?"
"I've thought about that. We're still dealing with this insurance company business. They declared Denny legally dead, but now are trying to decide whether they want their money back or not."
"Oh, shit. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. We've talked about going after the airline to get them to pay it back." She looked at Jill. "I paid everything off with that money."
"And DiRisio's sale?"
"Most of it's in the bank. I rolled it into a retirement fund."
Jill blew out the rest of her cigarette smoke, smashing the butt against the stoop and tossing it into the old coffee can Hannah had set out for just that purpose when she knew Jill and Rod were coming over. That was their deal; they could smoke on the front stoop as long as they threw the butts in the can, and not sprinkle them over the front walkway or grass.
"I've thought about talking to her about maybe seeing someone. I don't know. Maybe she's just depressed. I don't know. She's certainly not herself. That's about the only thing I'm at all sure of."
"You know what I noticed the most?" Jill asked, tucking her hands between her thighs. Hannah glanced at her. "Her eyes. Denny has the most gorgeous eyes of anyone I've ever known in real life, and what made them so striking was the life in them, that wonderful mischievous twinkle that always seemed to be there."
Hannah smiled, knowing all too well that mischievous twinkle, and what it was capable of. She nodded.
"Now, I don't know." Jill blew out a cigarette-scented breath. "It's gone somehow. Like the lights are one, burning brightly, but no one is home."
"I know what you mean. I know exactly what you mean." Hannah rested her chin on her knees, staring up into the night sky. "I really hope she'll bounce back out of this. I'm trying to be patient."
"Yeah. It has only been a month."
"Yeah. It has."
Dinner had been fun with Jill and Rod, Denny thought as she got ready for bed. She pulled back the comforter and blanket on the bed, folded it at the end. The nights were still warm enough for the body heat of two to only need a sheet. Glancing across the bed to where Hannah also got ready, Denny watched her partner, noting how quiet she'd been after returning from outside with Jill.
"Everything okay?" she asked, stuffing the clothes she'd worn that night into the hamper.
"Yeah. I'm alright." Hannah smiled, though it was sad.
Denny headed into the bathroom, heart heavy. She knew that sad look, and knew she'd put it there. It had been off and on over the past couple weeks. As Denny brushed her teeth, still smarting at the three new fillings in her teeth, she thought about her behavior over the past weeks. She knew it was hurting Hannah, but she just didn't know how to be the same person she used to be, because when it boiled down to it, she wasn't. Going to see what had once been her baby, her dream, long gone, had effected Denny more than she thought it would. She had been devastated all over again, feeling anger, though surprisingly, not at Hannah. She had come to understand her partner's reasons for doing what she did, but rather anger at life, at the world, at the goddamn airlines. She felt they had stolen her life, and she'd do anything to get it back.
Leaning against the sink, Denny looked into the mirror above it, looking into her eyes, her face, and finally trailing down to take in her upper chest, visible above the low neckline of the tank top she slept in. Bringing a hand up, she spread her fingers out over the warm skin, her palm resting against her collar bones.
Though her heart hurt and she felt empty and lost, Denny knew she had to make the best of things, and enter back into her own life, figure out how to live back in her skin. With steely determination, Denny finished getting ready for bed.
Hannah climbed in between the sheets, sighing as her body relaxed, arranging the sheet and her pillow just so. She heard the bathroom door open, then the lights were turned out as Denny climbed in on her side.
"It was good to see Jill and Rod," the brunette said, settling herself on the soft mattress.
"Yeah, it was," Hannah agreed. She looked over, barely able to see Denny's profile in the darkened bedroom. "Rod said he wants to know the name of the tanning booth you go to."
Denny chuckled, meeting the dark eyes not quite a foot from her. "Well, that's quite a ways away. I don't know if he could do it in a weekend." She smiled at Hannah's laugh. She had to admit it was a good sound. She decided she wanted to hear it again. "Yeah, see there's no little goggles and cool glass to keep you safe from the little bits of sunlight captured in light bulbs. No, no, in my tanning salon, you get a slab of rock underneath you, and a fig leaf over you. You can, however, use cocoanut shells to cover your breasts, cause, you know," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "it hurts to have sunburned nipples."
Hannah giggled as she turned to her side, reveling in the lighter side of Denny, which had been strangely absent since her return.
"Trust me on this one," Denny continued. "found that out the hard way."
"Oh, did you?"
"I did." Denny stared at Hannah's face, pale against the night, and suddenly she felt a deep need to be close to her, to feel normal again. Reaching out, she pulled the researcher closer, their bodies nearly touching. "I missed you," she said, running her fingers down over the soft skin of Hannah's arm.
"I've missed you, too, baby." Hannah felt Denny's hot breath against her face, a shiver running through her body. She whimpered softly when she felt Denny's breasts brush against her own as the brunette scooted closer.
Denny pushed Hannah to her back, covering her body with her own as she claimed the researcher's mouth.
* * *
It had taken some maneuvering, but Rachel had managed to escape the prying eyes of the media, needing to disappear for awhile. Only Reenie knew where she was, not even trusting her publisher; after all, it was because of them the media frenzy of the Island Six had started in the first place. They knew how to find her via email or phone, but that was all they needed to know.
Armed with her laptop, a goodly amount of cash and keys to the small cottage Reenie had rented in her stead in Beaver Creek, Colorado- a ski town near Vale- Rachel settled in for an indeterminate amount of time and self-isolation. She needed to think, needed to write, and needed to regroup.
Pulling up to the turn, which led down a densely tree-lined, single lane road, Rachel looked at the computer printout of the directions to the place, going back over her travels since she'd hit town. Deciding she was in the right place, she clicked her left turn signal, and, waiting for a large truck to pass, turned onto the private road, suddenly chilled as the thicket of trees lining the road thrust the inside of her rental car into shade before bursting back into sunlight as she neared the small house.
Charmed, a small smile graced Rachel's lips as she pulled the four-wheel drive Explorer up to the front porch, replete with a porch swing and small round table flanked by two wrought iron chairs. Rachel heaved her laptop bag and suitcase out of the back of the rented SUV and headed up to the small, three room cottage.
The inside was just as charming as the outside- hardwood floors, covered by numerous area rugs to protect against cold feet in the colder winters. A huge stone fireplace, which took up one entire wall, as well as rugged, sturdy wood furniture, and thick, down throws across the backs.
"This is beautiful," she murmured, turning in a small circle, already imagining what she could come up with in the space. She set her laptop down on the couch, then headed into the bedroom, equally impressed with it- massive oak bed with thick, homemade quilts, and large, heavy bedroom furniture. The one bathroom was attached to t
he bedroom with a door leading back to the living room. The blonde couldn't wait to try out the Jacuzzi that night. In the mean time, she wanted to get unpacked and settled in, a nice cozy fire, glass of good wine, and an open Word document.
Dinner was a leisurely affair, and Rachel sat, curled up in the corner of the couch, sipping her wine and staring into the flames. It was almost too warm for a fire, but enough of the cool, mountain air came in to justify it for her. She loved fireplaces and cold weather- something she'd missed dearly living on the island. She couldn't wait for winter, and had considered staying in the mountains for the duration of the year, watching the covering of the Rockies.
Rachel had thrown away the manuscript she'd written on the island, deciding that her view of the situation had changed, and new ideas had sprouted. She felt far different now than she had when she had started writing it, and needed. She needed to write, vent what was eating her up inside and figure out her feelings through recreating the events that had happened. She saw everyone in a different light than she initially had, and visions were haunting her daily of what needed to be written.
Setting her wineglass aside, Rachel opened up the silver lap computer, letting it boot up as she took her dinner dishes to the kitchen and rinsed them before arranging them in the dishwasher. Walking back into the main living space, she studied the flames once more, wishing with everything in her that Denny was there. She hadn't seen the brunette in nearly two months, and she missed her dearly. Rachel realized that there was literally a hole inside her, one that had always been there, though she hadn't realized it, and Denny had somehow managed to fill it. Then she was ripped away, and the hole was left bigger than it started out being.
Reenie had asked the blonde if she thought she were gay, and Rachel hadn't had an answer to that. She didn't see Denny as a ‘woman' or a ‘lesbian' thing. Denny was simply the person who made her feel whole, and who brought a warmth and joy to her life like no one else; she just happened to have a pair of breasts. Even so, Rachel was more than willing to try out those breasts.
As Rachel sank into the couch, she sighed, closing her eyes as she remembered that last morning, before the plane had arrived. Denny's hands had been so gentle, her mouth hot and driving the blonde to wild heights of arousal. She'd been desperate for Denny's touch, and still was. The beautiful brunette invaded her dreams, and her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried to keep her out. It had been the most embarrassing when she had been down visiting her sisters at Veronica's house in Portland. Danielle had caught her daydreaming, and when she'd asked the blonde what had her flushed, Rachel had been left speechless and flustered.
She had thought about making a trip east, maybe visit Reenie, see a good show- look up Denny. That thought had stopped her cold. Denny was happily married, and their circumstances on the island had made their connection feel that much stronger, and that and that alone made Denny stray. Rachel knew she didn't stand a chance against Hannah, nor did she want to do that to Denny, or put her in that kind of position that may ruin her relationship, that Rachel knew meant so much to the brunette. Besides- she was probably more than busy with getting back into her coffee shop and reacquainting herself with her partner.
The blonde forced her thoughts away from Denny, and back to the novel se planned to start, and not leave Beaver Creek until it was done.
* * *
Hannah's breathing was even and slow, her body relaxed and warm. Denny held her, but sleep was far away. It had been nice to give Hannah pleasure, make her feel good, give her what Denny knew she'd been longing for. Even as the brunette had kissed her, touched her, made love to her, she'd felt like she was a million miles away, her thoughts wandering, her heart nowhere to be found. She just hoped Hannah hadn't noticed. She didn't want to hurt her anymore than she already had. She didn't want to make Hannah doubt herself, or her place in Denny's heart.
So why did Denny feel sick to her stomach?
She stared up at the ceiling, Hannah's steady weight all along the right side of her body. Her eyes followed the subtle pattern made by the brush strokes in the paint. Denny hadn't allowed Hannah to touch her or bring her to release, as she knew it wouldn't happen. She felt awful, but deep down Hannah wasn't the woman she wanted touching her at that moment. Shoving that thought aside, she'd told Hannah that tonight it was all about her. Hannah had argued at first, but her body's need finally made her give in. Denny had thought she could do it, thought she could just let herself go, let her body take over, and feel what she used to. Feel the love she and Hannah had at one time, that she knew had to still be there. Somewhere. Sometimes it was so frustrating it made her want to cry. Since when did making love to the woman you'll spend the rest of your life with, had already spent eight years with, become something forced? Denny was confused and very, very sad.
* * *
Michael gazed lovingly down at the set of tools that had been given to him, admiring the chrome sheen and steel perfection. He ran his fingers over the cool metal of a socket wrench, inhaling the smell of greased tools. He loved tools, loved what could be done with them, fixed or created. Raising his eyes, he looked around the garage, running a hand over the patch that Meredith had stitched on the left breast pocket, feeling the raised stitches that were his name.
Damn, it felt good to be productive again.
* * *
The night was pitch black, sun long since disappeared. The only sound breaking the sound of perfect midnight was the sound of tapping computer keys, the steady staccato beat a lullaby for the night creatures that roamed the forests of Beaver Creek, Colorado.
* * *
Mia studied her text book, trying her damnedest to not notice the boy and girl sitting at the next table over in the library. He was murmuring some sort of nonsense to her, and she was giggling and asking him to stop, though her tone of voice sent a very different message. Dark eyes rolled for about the tenth time in as many minutes. Finally having enough of the petty flirting, and the fellow students not taking their studies as seriously as they should- after all, they never did know when the chance to learn may end- she slammed the book shut, shoving it into her backpack and storming out of the library. She'd find another place to study, a quiet place.
For the first time in her life, Mia hated going to school. She loved to learn, she loved what she got from the classes and lessons, but hated the pettiness around her. She looked at her peers and wanted to laugh at what they thought was the end of the world. So what, he didn't ask you to the prom? Who cares that her shoes and accessories don't match. And who gives a good goddamn that his fake I.D. isn't as good as his brother's!
Everyday required a pep-talk, if not from Mia herself, then from her mother. Why couldn't she just bypass all of this and go on straight to college? These people had absolutely no idea just how big the world really was, and small their lives were.
* * *
Pam ran a hand through her hair before resting her head in the palm of her hand, staring down at the book laid out on the table. She was trying to get certified in Montana for veterinary medicine, and was having a hell of a time. She hadn't been in school for so long, she felt like a complete idiot, wondering how she'd ever done it the first time, baby in tow!
"Because I was thirty years younger," she muttered, testily flipping the page of her notebook, trying to find the notes on the assignment she'd taken in class that afternoon.
After hanging out with Tracy and Luke on the ranch twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, Tracy had not-so-subtly suggested Pam try and get back into practice. The older woman knew she was driving her daughter crazy, so had agreed. Besides, she missed her work, loving all the animals like nothing else. The love a cat or dog or even pet ferret, gave was a love like no other. They asked no questions, wanted nothing from you but love and care. Pam seemed to be trying to give that to Tracy and Luke a little too much.
The older woman smiled at the thought, sighing as she found the spot in her notes she was looking for.
* * *
"I was thinking that maybe we'd head to Maine, or maybe New Hampshire, see the trees change colors. What do you think?" Will asked, tightening his hold on Dean's arm.
"Mmm," the attorney sighed, "that sounds wonderful. Great idea." He eyed his partner, a smirk curling his lips.
"What?"
"Maybe I'm converting you into a little tree hugger after all."
Will rolled his eyes, about to pull away when they were stopped, a young girl wearing a green baseball cap stopping them.
"Good afternoon, guys. Care to support your environment?" She held out a flyer to them. "I'm part of the environmentalist group, WorldWin, and we're taking donations right now for our campaign to stop illegal logging, which is destroying out forests at startling rates."
Dean took the flyer, reading the black print as he listened to the girl prattle on about percentages and alarming facts. He could feel Will trying to tug him away, but the attorney was intrigued. Glancing up into the girl's hopeful blue eyes, he smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me more."
* * *
Hannah had left for work, humming and walking on a cloud. Denny had done her best t play the ever dutiful wife, making Hannah breakfast, though she'd made sure she was up before the researcher, needing time by herself, and not wanting to get cornered in bed. She needed her space.
Now she had it, the house quiet, just the barest lingering scent of Hannah's perfume. Denny showered, then slipped into one of the pairs of jeans they'd bought her. Hannah had kept some of her clothing from before, but much of it no longer fit her much leaner frame. Buttoning her shirt, she looked into the mirror above the dresser, snatching a flyaway eyebrow hair, when she noticed something in the reflected image of the bedroom behind her. Turning, the brunette walked over to Hannah's side of the room, to the researcher's closet, which had been left open in Hannah's haste to leave for work. On the shelf, tucked between a folded blanket and box of their old love letters, she saw a wooden box- a jewelry box.
