"Perhaps we should retire to the other room where we can lie more comfortably." She drew me past the hearth, the book, the windows spilling over with soft, clear light. "I have more planned for thee."
A voice called from not too far off, "Mistress Lowell? I've come for the syrup thou spoke of."
She darted for her gown whilst I dashed to the bedroom, stifling my giggles at her frantic scramble. I waited, just inside the bedroom door, watching her lace and tie her clothes and pull her cap into place. She looked guilty as sin, some would say, though her voice and manner were calm as she greeted one of our neighbors.
I loved her, had loved her a long while. She was the root of my life, the wellspring of the very blood that pounded in my flesh when her hand stirred me. I began and ended in the welcome of her eyes.
She came to our bed when the neighbor had gone, and her first touch plunged me into fire. No time to remove the laces and gown, and her skirts fell around my shoulders as I pulled that most delicious, red, ripe part of her to my mouth.
Minutes, years passed as I loved her. Seasons fell around me like leaves and when she, too, fell to the bed, her hair was streaked with gray, her face lined with years of laughter. The passion and joy in her eyes were mirrors to mine and our bodies were suffused with the beauty of time. I held her in my arms, feeling her melt like a honeycomb, then grow lighter than feathers. Her eyes met mine with happiness, unflinching, even as I wiped a trace of blood from her cracked lips.
"I am letting go," she whispered. "Tis my time."
My tears spilled over her face and I lost my words, lost my heart root. The ache of breaking would not let me speak.
"Thee and me are not done. These forty years were not enough. Let me go, sweetheart, and see me for the next dance. All will be renewed, all is a gift, all is true..."
She slipped through my fingers like water and the bed crusted over with bitter leaves. My heart cracked, time split and Aurora said, shaking me softly, "It's true. Come back. It's all true."
I shuddered out of my stupor and could only gaze at her. She would look stunning in another forty years, laughter creasing her face.
She was trying to smile, though her eyes swam with emerald tears. "I liked you with gray hair."
I felt lost. I had believed fervently in not believing, and I knew something was gliding out of my life, no longer needed. "Hold me, Rory, please."
Her arms slid around me and I felt wrapped in her quietness. "You can call me Rory," she said softly. "I like it the way you say it."
The hospital was quiet and chilly and I wanted to go home again, back to my warm bed where Aurora was likely still asleep. We'd returned there and a new kind of passion had overcome us as we explored each other in increasing familiarity. If I wanted to believe, I could say it was a kind of recognition. Our earlier fire was abated and this time was sweet, slow and unbelievably tender. I had showered and dressed quietly, then looked in on her one last time.
Magic.
She asked nothing of me and gave me magic. Were some things in life really free?
Caught on the very edge of wonder, I pushed open the door to Kylie's room and was confronted by my father.
I took two quick steps back as he rose from the chair by her bedside. "What are you doing here?"
"I am being her father, though you'd have kept me out of it until it was too late to save her, if you'd had your way." His deep rumble seemed to rock the floor under my feet.
"How did you know?"
"Next of kin, or had you forgotten?"
I glanced at the bed, and Kylie waved weakly. I took care not to get too close to him as I moved to her bedside. "How are you feeling?"
"Woozy, but better." Her color had improved and she tried to smile. "Did you call him?"
"No." I'd been afraid that Kylie had called him, but now I was angry because someone at the hospital obviously had done so. "He wants to take me to Montpelier, to the church."
"There is no way that is going to happen."
"Life is sacred." He was standing next to me now, looking down at Kylie. "You would let her die, and we will fight for her to live."
"I am out of life, Dad." Kylie was trying hard to speak firmly, but her voice was thready. "Out of life and in a lot of pain. I'm tired."
"Those are the words of a sinner, and you are not that. Unless you have been corrupted." His glance at me was meant to sting, but my armor was fully up. I would not be baited.
"Dad, this is my choice."
"We'll see about that." He smiled and I felt chilled. "You can undo all those papers with a word."
"No," I said. How could he not see how wasted she was, how she'd begun the slide toward death? "You're upsetting her."
"I am bringing her the light of the Lord."
Bow to my will, that's what you really mean, I thought. Bow to my beliefs, my will, my decisions. I abruptly recalled Aurora's simple statements, none of which had required my belief or consent. She asked nothing of me and gave me magic. He wanted to own the most precious parts of Kylie and me, of everyone he met, and give nothing back for it but words.
"You are upsetting her and I won't allow it."
He went around the bed and took Kylie's other hand. And there we were, with her in between us. "I've called a local friend of the church, a legal advocate."
"Dad, don't." Kylie closed her eyes.
He would use her like a wishbone, but I was not playing the game. "All of her papers have been signed, notarized and cleared with hospital legal. I was worried about your interference and so was she. There is nothing you can do."
"I can pray for her to return to the fold—and you to lose your pigheadedness."
Kylie said sharply, "Is that the same way you prayed for it to be Hayley who was sick and not me?"
"She's filled you with lies." He squeezed Kylie's hand and I felt her wince.
"I heard you say it." She tugged weakly on her hand. "That hurts."
He let go, but not immediately. "My friend will be here soon."
"He won't step foot in this room." I patted Kylie's shoulder. "I'll be right back."
I spoke quickly to the first nurse I saw. "We have a situation in my sister's room. My father is upsetting her and he's called some sort of lawyer. I have her power of attorney."
"I'll phone administration," she said, with a tired edge to her voice.
"The other matter is that I didn't call him and neither did my sister, which means someone here did. His number is in her file, but there was no reason to call him."
Her lips pressed together and I got the feeling she suspected who had made the call, but wasn't saying. I didn't care. I just wanted him gone.
When I got back to her room he was praying over her. I rudely interrupted with "She's not dead yet."
"And shall not die if she repents her sins and enters the arms of the Lord."
I wanted to point out that by his reasoning everyone who died was a sinner. Everyone dies. It wasn't fair that it was Kylie's time. I said nothing because arguing with him was pointless since he made no sense.
Kylie's eyes were closed and her face was lined with distress. He'd yet to express any feeling of love or concern for her pain. He didn't see her as a human being, she was a principle, or, at the
most, a daughter, which I knew too well was not the same thing as a person.
I bent down to speak into her ear. "I can have him taken out of here."
She nodded. It was all I needed.
I got the security guard. Our father prayed. He told her to repent her sins, her unnatural desires, her lack of faith, to repent her wasted life spent pursuing graven medals. His voice rose and I didn't want to be thirteen again. It wasn't going to happen.
"The Kingdom of Earth reveals only to the pure. You were never cleansed of your sins, but in the Lord you shall be. The crooked are made straight in his glory. Walk tall to the Lord. You cannot crawl with evil. Repent. Leave the influence of dise
ase and perversion."
I shut my ears. By the time the security guard got two more of his ilk, our father was in full foam. I needed to assert no rights—his behavior got him muscled out of the room.
"You will burn for all eternity. Burn forever in the fire of evil and sin! Satan reaches for you with the slimy hands of a woman!"
His voice faded and Kylie's eyes stayed closed. The hospital administrator arrived to apologize for the "clerical error" and did all but produce a waiver for me to sign that promised I wouldn't sue over it. They were lucky there was no one in the other bed to contend with as well.
"I just want to take my sister home."
They got the neurologist in short order. He had no idea what had transpired but wasn't happy with Kylie's vitals. Tomorrow he would decide.
I made them all leave. I turned off the overhead lights and examined Kylie's long-forgotten dinner tray. The soup was cold. There was something that might have been oatmeal in some past decade. I broke open the packet of crackers. "Have something to eat and some water."
"Not hungry."
"I can't take you home if you're not eating."
She frowned but didn't protest when I adjusted the bed so she was upright enough to swallow. She waved the hand with the IV. "I thought this was food."
"Not enough. There's an olive on the salad."
I was crying, on the inside, crying that I was coaxing her to eat a simple little olive and that it was obviously a struggle for her to swallow it. Crying that our father had upset her and worried, deep down, that he'd find some politician who'd run to a judge and force Kylie to do things she did not want. Things I did not want for her.
She did drink nearly a full glass of water, and sipped dutifully at the milk. Encouraged, I told her about the hospital bed that would be delivered tomorrow morning. "It's just like this one, so you'll be more comfortable than in your old bed. I tried to move it and made a mess of it. Aurora helped me get it back."
Kylie tried to grin. "Did she now."
"Yes, she did." I fought down a blush.
"There's something about her." She swallowed a little milk. "Something special I can't figure. I've had weird dreams."
"Bad ones?"
"No. Odd." She pushed the milk carton away and made a strange choking sound. "Hayley."
"What is it?" I reached for the nurse's call button.
"What if... what if he's right?"
"About what?"
Her face crumpled as tears escaped. "That I'm going to hell."
"There is no hell, Kylie. It's a bogeyman to make you afraid and agree to whatever their rule is."
"What if there is?" I wiped tears from her cheeks. "I've tried to be good, but I've wanted... bad things."
"Who says they're bad? The same people that say there's a hell." I took her hand and if I believed in curses, I'd have cursed our father to suffer every pain Kylie was feeling.
"When I started going to church, with dad . . . there was a preacher who told stories. Of bad people, what happened to them. I had nightmares."
"Sounds like he should have been writing for the Friday the Thirteenth movies. And never allowed around young people."
"How can there be nothing? There has to be something."
"If there is, it's not hell." I wanted to tell her about the vision I'd had of some past with Aurora, but how could I? A couple of pictures in my head was nothing to base anything on. Damn my father and his certainty. I had no such certainty to balance against that.
"Then what?" Her tears had stopped and her eyelids drooped. "Then what?"
"I don't know, Ky. I don't know. But when I look at the way nature works, hell makes no sense."
Her hand slipped from mine and I sat with her a few more minutes.
I felt bludgeoned. I was still shaking, a little from the intensity of being with Aurora, and other parts of me—less pleasant—were shivering in anger that my father was anywhere near Kylie. Did he think that dying was easy? That it made it any better for Kylie to be afraid of it? I knew how much morphine she was being given and her face still showed more lines of pain than I liked. I knew how much the loss of her body, her energy, her passion for sports, her zest for living—I knew how much she grieved. It cut me deeply that she was afraid, too.
I wanted my sister back. I wanted my beautiful, brave, bold sister healthy again. I would miss her every hour of the rest of my life. There were places in me that only Kylie ever touched, that only she understood, and they'd be empty and cold. I loved her, and I would not hasten the day she left me.
But I loved her, so I would not hold on to her just for my own comfort.
Chapter 7
A delectable, savory aroma assailed my nose the moment I opened the front door. Aurora appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
"Wow," I tried to joke as my stomach growled. "You're even cooking for me?"
"Onion soup, just reheating some I froze a few weeks ago." She hesitated a moment, then grinned as I opened my arms to hug and kiss her. It was a soothing, healing kiss and I sagged slightly against her.
Leaning back, she gazed into my face. "What happened? You're all dark."
"Our father showed up. He tried to get Kylie to go home with him."
"Where's that?" She was still studying me.
"Raving Bible Central in Montpelier. I've never made sense of the sect. Security took him out of her room, but I think he'll be back."
Her thumb caressed the side of my mouth and the next kiss wasn't the least bit rushed. For the first time in my life I felt that I was Home. Home for good. Home because of her.
The steam from the bowl of soup eased the ache of unshed tears. "Okay, you have my permission to cook for me any time you like."
"I'll warn you, I'm vegan, so you might have to get your steak on the sly."
"Oh, you looked in the freezer, didn't you?"
"I was looking for clues about what you like."
I swallowed another spoonful of the savory, warming soup. "This is delicious."
"Thanks." She blushed and it was very becoming. "I'm not moving in, just so you know."
"I didn't think you were." Still, her words gave me a pang. She was home, I felt it in my bones in ways I'd never felt before. I hadn't even known I was searching for this feeling, not until it washed over me in that loving kiss at the door.
"Your life is full," she said slowly. "And it's not a time for decisions like that. Your . . . frame of reference right now is not your own."
"It's Kylie's. She needs me."
"Yes, and you should give her all the energy you can."
I thoughtfully swallowed some sweet onion while recalling our conversation about frames of reference—it seemed so long ago. "You looked a bit smug the day we met, like you had the right answer about the real frame of reference."
"Smug? Well, yes, that sounds like me. It's a fault. I was thinking to myself that there have been people who share my beliefs for thousands and thousands of years. Since the moment nature developed the energy for thought, there has been magic and belief in it."
"You said that our souls set the only timers that matter."
"That matter to us. The planet may predate our souls, but what matters to me, in my existence, is that my soul spans more than this life. Each dance we're given is a gift, an adding on, another layer of magic."
"You make it sound so simple."
"The hardest thing about our world is accepting that you can understand it, every bit of it, if you keep it simple." She grinned and I knew she was both teasing and telling me another piece of her truth.
She gave me magic and asked nothing of me. I very slowly and deliberately said, "I don't know what to think right now, but I promise you that I will think about all you have said."
She smiled shyly. "You don't have to believe in anything I've said, but that you take it seriously, consider it respectfully does matter. I realize that now. So thank you."
I brushed my fingertips against hers. "Stay the night with me?"
"I was going to invite you to my place. Because... if Kylie comes home you won't be able to."
I nodded agreement. "You're right. And I haven't seen very much of your house."
"I'll give you a tour in the morning. I don't feel like playing tour guide tonight."
Her look was so intent that I flushed. "Oh, you'd look cute in a little uniform. I could be the confused tourist who needs personal attention."
She winked, a bewitching, flirtatious wink. "It's too early to play dress up. Maybe when I know you better."
"Well, I've seen your magic-making room and your, um, magic wand. Perhaps you could at least show me that."
Color ran up her neck and I loved it. We were turned on and blushing like teenagers and part of me was still weeping for Kylie and yet I knew I had to go on living.
I packed a little bag of essentials, made sure I had my cell phone and charger in case the hospital called, and took Aurora's hand at the kitchen door. "Shall we?"
Bast twined around Aurora's legs with a yowl.
"You've got food," I scolded. "You won't perish if you sleep alone for once."
Aurora stooped to scratch Bast's head. "She doesn't understand," she cooed at the cat. "Of course you can visit too."
So it was the three of us that crossed the yard. Damn cat always got her way and I could tell there would be times when the two of them would side against me. But that was thinking too far ahead, I reminded myself. Tonight was what mattered. Day by day, that was what mattered.
Bed was what mattered, and Aurora did not give me a tour of any place but her bedroom. Her rising need caught fire in me and I abruptly could not wait another moment to feel her naked and hot against me.
We rolled over her bed, arms and legs tangling in abandonment. Sharp, like electricity, our passion jolted through both of us.
"Is this a spell?"
"Could be," she whispered in my ear. "Or could be just us. Does it matter?"
Bell, Book and Dyke - New Exploits of Magical Lesbians Page 25
