The midwife cleans the baby’s nostrils and mouth with a damp cloth and the baby lets out an angry wail. Elizabeth opens her eyes when she hears the baby cry, and then lets them drift closed again. The midwife prepares to hand the baby to her exhausted mother. Approaching the bed, she tells Elizabeth what a wonderful job she did and that her baby is a fat, healthy girl with brown hair. Elizabeth has a faint smile upon her waxen lips, but does not respond beyond that small effort. I think perhaps she has fallen asleep, since she cannot rouse herself to extend her arms for her baby for even a moment.
I take the child and kneel at Elizabeth’s side. I notice that Ann is already kneeling, head bowed. She knew the moment that Elizabeth’s soul departed her body. It was the moment that Elizabeth knew that her baby lived. I hand the baby to Ann, who holds her close; they sit vigil beside Elizabeth for the rest of the night.
At daybreak, a grave is dug for Elizabeth. Ann escapes from the press of people and sorrow into the fields surrounding the ranch, still cradling the little baby. I start to follow her but, when I see her crumple to the ground, crying but still tenderly holding the baby, rocking on her heels, I turn back. Though we experienced Elizabeth’s death together, we occupy different plains of grief now. She needs to be alone, unencumbered by my feelings and expectations. We hold a funeral service for the brave woman who found us only to deliver her child to our safekeeping; halfway through, Ann finds Whit and I, as well as the larger community, ready to rejoin the group.
The baby seems so fragile, I’m afraid to touch her for fear of damaging her translucent skin. I’m full of wonder that this tiny, delicate human could survive such an ordeal; that we all could. I stand shoulder to shoulder with my husbands and we all marvel at the perfection of this tiny human.
“What should we call her?” Whit asks us both.
“How about Mary?” Ann suggests.
“Or Ida” Whit offers.
“Let’s call her Grace.” They both nod and repeat the name. “Grace.”
Two Loves
~ Bonus Story ~
A New Adult Lesbian Menage
The love of my life left me. She vanished into the world without even a whisper my way, leaving me alone, discarded and crushed. How do you cope with someone just dumping you like that? What should you do, when you love them, but hate them for what they've done?
Not much, I can tell you. I eventually patched up the pieces of my heart and got with someone else. She's the older sister known as Jaimie Gold, and has the strut, the attitude, and a vibe about her that I love. She lights up those dark places, and I find myself growing to love her.
I'm happy with the way things are... until Leona Gold comes back, three years later, bringing all the unanswered questions with her. Bringing back the memories I had never truly forgotten...
* * *
Chapter One
Oil spits in my face, and I flinch back from the frying pan as it fizzles and crackles. The bacon cooks nicely, but I always get afraid it's going to leap out the pan and burn my arm when the meat cooks. Jaimie thinks I'm a , of course, with the way I stand at maximum distance from the hob, but it's for a good reason. I've already had my fair share of burns, which show in the raw patches of flesh on my hands. One scar came from catching the top of my skin in the grill – the moment I found out what cooked human skin smelled like.
Never again.
The other on my palm comes from my disastrous attempt to heat butter in a microwave. The kind of butter in metal wrapping.
My advice: don't do that. Ever. Not unless you want to burn your house down. Thankfully, I'm a little more competent nowadays when it comes to food, enough to cook my long-term girlfriend a delicious breakfast. She's usually a nightmare to wake up in the mornings, but give her one whiff of cooked bacon and she's tumbling down the stairs like an enthusiastic puppy.
Sure enough, Jaimie thumps to the kitchen and gives me a huge smile as I'm trying to fish out the bacon from the pan to plop it in a bowl. I take the pan off the hob, preparing to drop another round of meat inside it, when Jaimie approaches me from behind, wraps her arms around me and nuzzles into my neck, past long strands of blonde hair. When she catches me by surprise like this, it never fails to send tiny spasms in my body, which can be a little dangerous when I'm in the middle of cooking something. I need to concentrate, after all, and I'm not concentrating when there's a gorgeous woman pressed into my back.
“Hey, Lola,” she breathes, the hot air sending shivers down my spine. I close my eyes, relaxing into her touch. “Look at you dancing around the kitchen. I love seeing you so happy... it works me up.”
I feel her breasts rub into my shoulder blades and her hips rub against me. Her hands slide to my chest, secured in a c-cup bra, and there's the brief tang of pleasure, before I laugh and swat her off. “No, Jaimie. We've got things to do and food to eat. Wait until later.” I look into her dark blue eyes, framed by glossy dark hair. She lets out a sigh. She's beautiful, of course, built solid, with broad shoulders that hide a great strength, and she's a good soul. Her long eyelashes protrude out of hooded eyes that give her a permanently sleepy look, which I find arousing. She has luscious and edible lips, plump and big compared to mine – but the best thing has to be when she smiles, and the dimples appear in her cheeks. There's a small tattoo on her neck which depicts a raven flying – representing the dream she holds inside of flying free. She's fucking gorgeous, and she knows it. It always leaks out in her body language, drawing people to her like a magnet. Even if I never knew her, I know that if I sat in a bar and saw someone like her strut in, all my attention would be on her.
I would be a moth to a flame.
She kisses me on the cheek, before saying, “Fair play. There's something I need to tell you, anyway. Might put you off the mood.”
The wavering tone of voice makes me stare at her in concern. “Is everything okay?”
“Let's get some food down our gullets first before I tell you.”
Curious, I hurry up with cooking the rest of the bacon, and then place our plates on the table, full with scrambled egg, buttered bread, sausages and bacon. She eats like a starving man, even though the last time she ate was seven hours ago, reminding me again of the bottomless pit she resembles when it comes to good food. I pick at my food with a knife and fork, disliking getting grease on my fingers. I examine Jaimie all the while, thinking about the night we had shared, where she came onto me as I was sleeping, and I had thought, for most of the incident, that her grinding on top of me was a dream, a wonderful dream.
A dream, of course, that brought an orgasm, and for me to wake up fully before it happened and realize my wonderful reality. It excited me to be taken in that fashion, to feel her fingers slip against me, and her silent efforts to bring me to climax. Nothing like a hot girlfriend to put every ounce of effort into eliciting the best sounds from you, to have your body toss and turn and writhe under the sheets at the tantalizing, shivering contact given. It's not often as well that she chooses to be so gentle that her hands are like feathers, tickling my skin.
When her tongue presses against my core as well, it's far too easy to forget that the world exists, and to just lose myself into the waves she creates.
“Here's the news. My sister's coming back into town.”
At this announcement, my heart stutters to a stop. No. My eyes bulge in surprise.
Leona Gold, coming back to town. Leona Gold – my ex. Sweat immediately beads on my forehead.
If any news is going to make my world flip upside down, it's that. Sometimes, I think about her and the things we shared. I mean, once upon a time, I thought she was the “one,” so it's hard to forget everything about her. Where Jaimie is tough, dark and sultry, Leona is charming, intelligent and soft, though she also possesses that same seductiveness, the steel in her mannerisms. You'd have to be, growing up as siblings together. I got together with her in my senior year of high-school, back in the time where I was weakly denying my lesbian tendencies, and she helpe
d dispel every one of my excuses, and my first time was with her.
When Leona left, our relationship ended. She never called, came back for holidays, or did anything for me to believe the relationship could be salvaged. Of course, when I ended up with Leona's older sister, that didn't help with things, either. I was lonely, upset and confused at Leona's abrupt dismissal of me. Her reason – that she needed to focus on her career – didn't make a lick of sense. After all, you can have a career and have a relationship, right? It's utter bullshit to claim you love someone, but then leave them behind because “it's best for the both of us this way.”
When I raged about it, Jaimie had been the one to comfort me, but don't get me wrong. She didn't do it by leaping into bed with me the second her sister was out the door. She just sort of wriggled into my heart and stayed there over the months – and it was me who decided to take things further. I chose to ensnare the older sibling. Through our talks, I got the impression that in her family, Leona was the high achiever, the woman with a plan, and Jaimie lives her life as the drop-out, the drifter who preferred the simple things and easy pleasures. To put it clearly – Jaimie is damaged by her sister's shadow.
Her father doesn't like me for dating Jaimie. He thinks I should have waited. That dislike reflects onto Jaimie, for hurting her younger sister in such a way.
Leona, however, hurt me first. We had been dating each other since the start of high school, and she had left me. She stopped calling. She stopped caring. That's the thing Steve Gold doesn't understand. Even if me getting together with Jaimie may not have been the best idea, or even for the best of reasons, things worked out. I grew to love Jaimie, and she me. We've been three years happy.
Not so bad, right?
“When she gonna be back?” I ask, nervous. My anxiety is mirrored on Jaimie's face, before she hides it under a shroud of darkness.
“Our parents are having a big dinner for her over the weekend to celebrate her return. Invited you – but you can say no. It's not a big deal.”
“It's fine,” I say, though I'm not sure if it is, really, “I'll go.”
It's likely going to be the biggest mistake of my life, but like hell am I going to avoid the situation like a coward. Leona has something to answer for, as do I.
My heart gives a light twinge, when I think about Leona. For a moment, I envision Jaimie on top of me in bed, her dark hair splayed, her hooded eyes rolled back in pleasure, her dominant nature sending deep thrills inside, before it's replaced by an older memory – of Leona.
Where Jaimie prefers rougher, possessive sex, Leona knows the secret places of a body. I lost my virginity to Leona, and we spent a lot of time exploring one another's bodies, discovering the erogenous zones like miners digging for gold. She likes mixing the roles between sub and dom, whereas Jaimie prefers always to be the leader. I imagine Leona's soft, light pink lips pressing into my skin, her chestnut hair mixing with my blonde locks, and the attention she lavishes on my chest.
I shiver.
Fuck the Gold siblings for both being attractive. Seriously.
I kiss Jaimie a kiss as she gets ready for work in her motorbike shop. I leave shortly afterwards, heading to MCLA college for my lecture in psychology. As I sit on the bus, I feel like I'm balancing two women's hearts in my hand. Whatever move I make, someone will be hurt.
It doesn't help that my mind starts whirring through the dust of past interactions – to that shivering first time when Leona and I had been drinking, giggling like younger teenagers. I remember us gradually closing the distance on the sofa, and then staring for a long moment into her tremendous light blue eyes, feeling them sink into me like teeth and not letting go.
She treated me like something fragile as she kissed me, then, slowly unwrapping my body like a precious gift. I had been eager, clumsy as I undid her buttons, shaking hands betraying my nervousness and excitement within. I didn't know what to do, how to act, but I remember that she guided me through, always asking if this was okay, that was okay, kissing and stroking me as she experimented as well.
It was awkward but beautiful at the same time, and the memory is imprinted upon my soul – because as first times seem to go, I think it worked out pretty well. That's another way that Jaimie differs.
Where Leona had no one else but me, and I her – Jaimie has gone through her fair share of relationships and one night stands. She's what you would call highly sexualized, though I don't see her as a slutty person. She just knows what she has and how to flaunt it. My first time with her, well – I'm unlikely to forget that, either. Leona giggled and smiled and moaned with me as we moved under the sheets. Jaimie possessed me, snatching my breath with a stare and a smirk, whispering into my ear the things she planned to do to me and how she wanted to taste me. The weight of her experience blew my mind and flung me to far away places. All I want to do under her touch is gasp and scream.
Before I know it, the bus has pulled up outside my college. With a reluctant sigh, I hop off, my mind still soaked in thoughts of these two women. The one I'm with, and the one who broke my heart.
Chapter Two
Saturday arrives, and my nerves are shot to hell. Jaimie has grown increasingly paranoid over the days leading up to the weekend, and it's not hard to see where the fear comes from. After all, I never completely renounced my love for Leona – I just thought she didn't want me anymore, and Jaimie helped mop up the broken pieces of my body and soul.
I had one strange night with her where I woke up, only to find her staring at me with a dark and shrouded expression. I could almost hear the cogs turning in her brain, and smell the fear emanating from her pores, because despite the fact we've been together three years, she's afraid of losing me to Leona Gold. The only thing I did then was to close the distance and enclose myself in her arms. She's not big on cuddling, but she accepted it then, with a quiet sigh and a faint sniff of my hair, before adjusting her arm so that my resting head didn't cause pins and needles on it. I've never seen Jaimie cry, but I thought she might in that moment.
I don't know how to explain to Jaimie that I love her. I truly do. No way do you forget what someone has done for you, and the way they make you feel. She's a star, a blaze of light in what can sometimes be a dark and cruel world. We have great times, despite the arguments that crop up over our bad days. She acts tough, but melts like butter. She's just not Leona.
The problem with the whole thing is that I can't forget I loved Leona, either. The reason I want to go to the family dinner is so I can meet up with my ex once and for all, and try and close the door on a past I've never locked. The door had been slammed and left to sway in the storm. Jaimie understands this, though she's not happy about it. All I can do is reassure her, and kiss her, and sometimes bully her, since she's a little too serious for her own good.
Still love her, though.
At the family table, tensions are high. Like, ceiling high. I'm sitting there with a frozen smile on my face as Gene and Steve examine me. Our food of the evening is a roast dinner, with gravy, roasted potatoes, peas, broccoli, beef slices and honey parsnips. Walking through the front door with Jaimie felt like I was doing the walk of shame, since after their sweet, kind mother admitted me into the house, Leona was there in the kitchen, assaulting my sights after three years of radio silence – just as beautiful as I remembered her. They always describe this moment when you feel your heartbeat stop and that you forget how to breathe, but with Leona, I became hyper-aware of everything around me. My heartbeat thumped treacherously loud, the blood pounded in my ears, and something twitched in my neck. My limbs felt like putty, and the only way to stop myself buckling under my own weight like an idiot was to keep moving, because how many times have I dreamed of seeing her again?
Jaimie, seeing Leona's penetrative stare, wrapped an possessive arm around me as we greeted one another. Jaimie's scent of spices washes over me, and I wrinkle my nose in appreciation.
Fully expecting a box of dynamite to explode somewhere, shock coursed t
hrough me when Leona approached me and gave me a huge hug. Not expecting this at all, my arms simply hung there like a gorilla's as she did so. It was like being hugged by a ghost.
“It's good to see you,” she said, her melodic voice stirring exotic feelings in my blood. I smelled the coconut in her hair, the fresh, laundry scent on her skin. “It's been too long.” I remembered for a brief moment how she sounded when she climaxed, the type of gasps and moans her throat elicited as she writhed under the sheets, and I have to actively squeeze my eyes shut to stem the flow of thoughts.
When she greets her older sister, she only reaches out a hand to shake, rather than go for the full embrace. Jaimie takes it, though her face is like a brewing storm, waiting to lash out fury. There's a vein bulging in her neck, and her nostrils are pinched. She disguises the fury with a smirk, and Leona raises an eyebrow. Electricity crackles between them, and I'm the conductor, sandwiched between these two women, convinced that I'm about to be fried to a crisp. Jaime's dark blue eyes, like a deep ocean, collide with Leona's ice ones, which make her look feral and cold.
Double Grades Page 81
