Molly let her hand drop to her side and blew out a deep breath, the visible puff floating away and then dispersing into nothingness. She heard the crunch of snow underfoot and felt Amy’s presence behind her. Amy wrapped her arms around Molly from behind and rested her chin on Molly’s shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked with tenderness.
Molly nodded, placing her arms over Amy’s where they crossed her stomach. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Then how come you look like you just lost your best friend? You were glowing this morning. Why the change?”
Pressing her lips together in a thin line, Molly honestly contemplated the question. The answer was plain and simple, but no less scary to admit. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
Molly turned, threaded her arm through Amy’s, and led her on a slow stroll back toward the house. “I’m worried that once we’re home and the influence of”—she made an all-encompassing gesture—“this place is behind us, things will go right back to the way they used to be.”
“And why does that scare you?” Amy asked gently.
“It scares me because...” She dropped her eyes to her boots. “I don’t think I can stand going back to the way it was,” she said so softly Amy could barely hear. “Not after seeing and feeling how good it can be between us again.”
They reached the front door and stopped. The others had gone in, so just the two of them stood on the stoop. Amy regarded her friend with great affection. “All I can say, Primo, is you have to have faith. It’s a lame piece of advice, I know, but it’s all I’ve got. And I think it’s the truth. You have to have faith—faith in Kristin and faith in the two of you together. If anybody can pull through this, it’s you guys.”
“You’re right,” Molly said, wrapping Amy up in a grateful hug. “It is a lame piece of advice.”
They entered the house laughing and hung up their coats. “Where are the girls?” Amy asked Darby, who sat on the floor killing zombies.
“Upstairs packing, I think. Aunt Jo’s in the shower.”
Amy nodded and excused herself to the bedroom. Molly stood uncertainly, then turned to look at the back of Darby’s dark head. She felt a mixture of emotions that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with: sympathy, guilt, longing, regret. She sat down on the floor next to Darby, Indian-style, and watched her play. They didn’t speak for several long moments.
“You doing okay?” Darby asked finally, not taking her eyes from the screen.
“Yeah,” Molly replied. “You?”
“I’m good.”
Silence settled upon them once again. Darby swore under her breath and leaned to her left, willing her character in the game to do the same, but it didn’t help. “Game Over” flashed onto the screen. The irony was not lost on Darby as she looked down to study the controls in her hands.
“You two…fix things?” she asked softly, trying hard not to absorb the scent of Molly sitting so close.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Molly caught herself, immediately feeling guilty for her dismissive tone. “But we’re working on it.”
Darby still didn’t look up and her voice remained quiet. “And that’s what you want?”
“Yeah,” Molly said hoarsely. “It’s what I want.”
Darby finally lifted her head, her blue eyes boring directly into Molly’s, intense, imploring. “Does she make you happy, Molly?” It was a simple question, but it meant everything.
Molly’s gaze never wavered, even though she was surprised by the query. She had to consciously keep herself from breaking into a huge grin, but she did allow a kind smile to peek through. “I love her, Darby. Despite everything she and I have been through…and despite what you and I have been through, I love her with all my heart and I’d be a fool to let her go without fighting for her.” She felt like she should say something more and she shifted her position on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Darby stated firmly. “Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. Do I wish things had turned out differently? For me, yes. For you?” She paused, briefly lost in her own thoughts about what might have been. “I don’t think so. I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be. You’re an amazing woman, Molly, and you deserve to be happy. If it’s Kristin who can give that to you, then more power to her. She’s a lucky girl.” Molly flushed a light shade of pink that Darby thought was adorable and she bumped Molly’s shoulder affectionately. “And stop with the blushing or I won’t be able to control myself.”
“I think you’re the amazing one,” Molly said with sincerity. “You’re going to make some woman very lucky one of these days.”
Darby grimaced with disdain. “I doubt that. I think maybe I’m not cut out for a real relationship.”
Molly’s voice was strong as she surprised Darby by grabbing her chin and forcing her to make eye contact. “Don’t do that. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a wonderful woman. You’re smart and sexy and kind and you will find the right person. I guarantee it.”
The beginnings of a small grin crept across Darby’s face and she was touched by Molly’s sincerity. “You guarantee it, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
Darby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Thanks, Molly.”
“No,” Molly said as she leaned over and kissed Darby tenderly on the cheek. “Thank you.” She patted Darby chastely on the thigh and pushed herself to her feet with a groan. “I suppose I’d better get my stuff together, too, and get my butt home. Back to work tomorrow.” Despite the fact that she’d always loved her job, the idea of getting the attention of a classroom full of five-year-olds still riding their holiday highs made her physically shudder as she mounted the stairs.
Darby watched her go, cursing her eyes for sliding down to settle on Molly’s ass. She looked away and shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle. As she was about to reset the video game so she could take out more of her frustrations on the zombies, her cell phone rang. She pulled it off the clip and looked at the screen. She bit her bottom lip as the phone rang again and continued to stare, trying to balance the pros and cons of answering. On the third ring, she made her decision and flipped the phone open. She took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Rebecca. Happy New Year, babe. How you doin’?”
*
Ricky lay on the bed and watched with large brown eyes as Laura folded clothes and stuffed them into her duffel bag. His furry head moved with her hands, from the left to the right and back as she worked. When she stopped and looked at him, he met her gaze with adoration, causing her to put down the shirt she’d been folding and clasp his head in both hands while she rained kisses on him and told him how cute he was.
“That poor dog has no idea what he’s in for,” Sophie commented wryly, smiling and shaking her head. She was packing her own bag on the opposite bed.
“Love,” Laura said, kissing the dog again. “Love, love, love. That’s what he’s in for.”
Lucky bastard, Sophie thought without bitterness. “When I die, I want to come back as a lesbian’s dog.”
Laura laughed, and the sound alone made Sophie’s smile widen. “That would be a pretty perfect life, wouldn’t it?”
“Damn right.”
They went back to packing in silence for a while. Sophie got their things from the bathroom and handed Laura hers as if they’d been packing for trips together for years. Laura thanked her, trying not to register any feeling at all when their fingers brushed and failing miserably.
Sophie went back to her side of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Laura’s back as she worked. There were things she wanted to say, things she wanted to tell Laura, things she wanted to ask her. But she sat in silence, just watching, unable—or unwilling—to do anything but that. Just watch. Dozens of words sped through her head, handfuls of things she could say, but she couldn’t figure out which one to grab or how to say what she wanted to in some sort of coherent fashion. So she sat.
> Laura turned to get her books off the nightstand and noticed Sophie in her stillness. The look on her face was…odd, like she was trying to figure something out, like she was puzzling over a problem. Cocking her head to the side, Laura asked, “What?”
“Have dinner with me.” The words flew from Sophie’s mouth before she was even aware that she’d been about to say them. She flinched as though somebody else had said them and startled her.
Laura suppressed a grin and glanced at her watch. “Now?” she asked teasingly. “It’s a little early for dinner, don’t you think?”
Sophie swallowed, knowing Laura was joking with her, but unable to latch onto some semblance of ease as more words tumbled from her mouth. “No, not now. But some time. Any time. This week? Wednesday? Friday?”
Laura opened her mouth to answer, but Sophie went on, looking surprised that she was doing so. The words poured from her lips in an endless stream. “Look, I know we’re both still licking our wounds and I know we didn’t get off on the right foot and I know that neither of us is ready for another relationship, which is perfectly okay because that’s not what I’m asking for, but we’ve been so good together the last couple of days and we were so good together last night and I think we have a lot in common and I really like talking with you and I’d really like to see you again.”
Sophie took a breath and blinked, as if she was unsure whether or not she was done talking. Her breathing had become rapid and now she was very nearly panting. She rubbed at the back of her neck, embarrassed.
Laura sat down next to her on the bed and licked her lips. Sophie’s words had surprised her, but she expected to be frightened by them and she wasn’t. And that surprised her more. She felt such a connection to Sophie, but she’d been afraid to say anything about it, knowing Sophie’s hurt was still fresh, still close to the surface, that her wounds were still open and sore. Those wounds had been made by an adulterer, which is exactly what Laura was. It was a fact. There was no denying it, no way around it, and Laura honestly wasn’t sure if it was something Sophie could handle.
But here she was, asking for more. Just a little more, but more, and Laura was inexplicably proud of her. Sophie had taken a huge step and Laura had at least an idea of how hard it must have been for her to do so. She looked at Sophie now, dark hair pulled back from her face, cocoa skin tinted with a hint of red at each cheekbone, announcing her consternation to anybody who looked. Her deep brown eyes darted around the room and then settled on her own hands clasped in her lap as if waiting for her fate. Laura placed her own hand over Sophie’s, once again struck by the contrast of their coloring. She waited until Sophie found the strength to look up and meet her eyes. Then she smiled and squeezed Sophie’s hands.
“I’d love to have dinner with you.”
*
At almost exactly three o’clock, Amy closed the front door and leaned against it with a pout. Jo smiled at her from the couch and held up a glass of red wine.
“I saved a bottle of that Merlot for us,” she said. “It’s back to work for you tomorrow, so let’s enjoy the rest of today. Come sit with me.”
Amy flopped down next to her wife and they sat in silence for a long while, cuddled in each other’s embrace in front of the fire, just enjoying being together.
Speaking quietly so as not to disrupt the peace, Jo finally said, “So, how do you think the week went?”
“I think it went really well, considering how it could have gone,” Amy responded. “I mean, Molly and Kristin? They were a mess. I was really worried. But I think they’re going to pull through.”
“Me, too.”
Amy smiled at the straightforward response. Jo didn’t say a lot, but she had very strong feelings about those she loved. Amy knew her wife had been just as worried about their friends’ relationship as she had been. “I have to admit I was a little concerned about Darby fixating on Molly the way she did, but I think she ultimately helped rather than hurt.”
“She hurt herself a little bit, but it was a lesson needed.” Jo still felt pretty guilty about it and she gazed into the flames that crackled in the fireplace.
“Sweetie,” Amy said softly as she laid a hand on Jo’s thigh. “Don’t feel bad. I know you’re worried that you hurt Darby’s feelings, but it’s okay. You did what needed to be done and you would have done the same thing to somebody who was not a blood relation.”
“She’s so damn young,” Jo said, almost wistfully.
“And she has lots of things to learn about life and love. The people who care about her, like you and me, are here to help her with those lessons so she doesn’t have to learn them from strangers.” She kissed Jo’s warm cheek. “That’s what being family is all about.”
Jo turned loving brown eyes on her wife. “As always, my love, you’re right.”
“The sooner you accept that, the better off we’ll all be,” Amy said with a grin. A few more minutes passed in silence before Amy remembered the surprise of the entire week. She whipped her head around to look at Jo and exclaimed, “And how about Sophie and Laura?”
Jo laughed at the mention of the two. “Holy shit. Who saw that coming? I know I didn’t.”
“Me, neither. I was more afraid that they’d kill each other. I was trying to decide the best method for getting blood out of my hardwood. I never expected the hook-up.”
“No way.”
Amy sipped thoughtfully. “They are very good together, you know? They actually have a lot in common. I’m surprised I didn’t think about it sooner.”
“So am I, given your penchant for matchmaking.”
“Maybe I’m slipping in my old age.”
“I doubt that.”
Amy leaned her head on Jo’s shoulder. “I don’t know that they’ll end up happily ever after, but regardless, I think they will end up friends. You can never have too many of those.” After a beat, she added, “Think they’ll share custody of the dog?”
Jo’s eyes widened with incredulity. “Seriously! What the hell with the dog? Just showing up out of nowhere like he did? How weird was that?”
Amy laughed as she nodded in agreement. “Molly and Kristin on their way to repair, Sophie and Laura hooking up, Darby learning an important lesson or two, the dog finding a new and loving home…”
Jo began to chuckle as Amy’s voice trailed off. “Oh, no. Don’t say it.”
“I’m going to say it.”
“Don’t. Don’t say it.”
“You know I have to say it.”
“Please don’t say it. I’m begging you.”
Amy grinned widely as she poked Jo in the ribs. “The Magic Acre, baby. The Magic Acre.”
“Ugh.” Jo slapped a hand over her eyes. “You said it.”
“It’s the only logical explanation for everything that’s happened. My grandmother would agree wholeheartedly, I’m sure.”
“Your grandmother was a little bit wacky, wasn’t she?”
Amy slapped playfully at Jo as she laughed. “Hey. Watch what you say about my grammy. She might be here right now.”
Jo looked around in mock fear. “Oh, I hope not. I wouldn’t want her to have to witness this.” Then she pressed her lips to Amy’s and kissed her into silence.
They felt so right, so good, so perfect together, the two of them. They always had. How was it feasible? Was it luck? Was it fate? Why was she chosen to be with her perfect mate and so many others seemed to spend their entire lives searching and searching, but never finding—or worse, settling for a life with somebody so completely and utterly wrong for them, spending their whole existence never knowing what it feels like to be with a soulmate?
Jo didn’t consider herself an emotional person at all and she despised the use of words like “soulmate,” but there was really no other way to describe how well she and Amy fit. Like they were meant to be. Was that possible? She pondered these thoughts as she poured all of the love in her heart into the act of kissing her wife, knowing that Amy felt every bit of it.
&nbs
p; Maybe magic does exist…
About the Author
Georgia Beers was born and raised in Rochester, New York. After high school, she attended college in Pennsylvania at Mansfield University, where she earned a bachelor's degree in mass communications. Always believing she wanted to be involved in television or radio somehow, she tried her hand at both after graduation and decided rather quickly—and much to her own horror—that she didn't like either one.
For as long as she can remember, Georgia has written stories. After discovering the Internet and the surprisingly large world of writing that exists on it, she met a fellow writer in the year 2000 to whom she felt close enough to share her first attempt at a manuscript for a novel. One thing led to another, Georgia was introduced to a publisher, and the next thing she knew, she was an actual honest-to-goodness novelist. To this day, she still has trouble believing it.
Georgia is the author of the romance novel Too Close to Touch, has selections in several anthologies, including Erotic Interludes 2&4, and is currently at work on her fifth novel. She still resides in Rochester with Bonnie, her partner of twelve years, and their two dogs.
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