by Ann McMan
Even in her distress, she had to smile as she thought about how Maddie would react to being compared to a dish of curry. But that’s exactly what she was—a dense and powerful combination of hot and sweet spices that made Syd shiver and sweat, but left her gamely craving more.
She handed Michael his coffee and sat down across from him. “Thanks for meeting me here. I know it seemed like an odd request.”
He shifted on his chair and stretched his long legs out to the side as he regarded her. “No problem. You sounded more than a little distressed. Did something happen with your brother?” He took a sip of his coffee and regarded her. Behind his dark-rimmed glasses, his gray eyes looked concerned.
“Not with Tom. No.” She nervously slid her mug back and forth between her open hands. “I—it’s not about anyone else. Not really.” She met his gaze. “I need a sounding board. I need a friend, and I need to know that I can share this with you, and have it just be with you. And I apologize in advance for even asking that. I know it’s unfair.”
“First—of course you can talk with me. And, second—I don’t think asking me to keep this conversation just between us is unfair at all.”
She gave him a nervous smile. “You don’t know what I need to talk about.”
He reached across the table and stopped her still-moving hands. “Then enlighten me, and we’ll go on from there.”
She looked down at his hand as it rested on top of hers. “This isn’t easy for me to talk about. I don’t even know how to talk about it.” She looked up and met his eyes. “I’m not even sure what it is, but it’s making me crazy, and I have to figure it out.”
He continued to regard her quietly.
“Ever since I moved here, I’ve been . . . unsettled by something—by someone. And I thought . . . at first, I thought it was just a reaction to the separation, you know? To leaving Jeff and moving up here? I mean, I know I’ve been lonely and I haven’t really . . . engaged with anyone in quite a while. I had all those years in grad school to fill up my time, and it was easy to avoid how empty the rest of my life was. Does that make any sense?”
He gave her an encouraging smile. “Not yet, but I know you’ll get there.”
She sighed. “I haven’t had friends like you—like you and David . . . and Maddie—in years.” She looked down at her coffee mug. “Maybe never.” She looked up at him again. “I mean, I’ve only been here . . . what? Three months? It’s crazy. And already I feel happier and more settled than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”
He looked confused. “And this is a bad thing, because?”
She shook her head. “It’s not—it isn’t that it’s a bad thing. It’s more that it’s . . . complicated. I wasn’t even aware of it at first. Not really. It just sort of grew up around me, and then I started to notice it from time to time. I still didn’t quite get it, even when it was jumping up and down and waving its arms in my face.” She expelled a long breath. “And trust me, it’s been waving its arms in my face for some time now. I can’t pretend to ignore it any more.”
“And what is it?”
She leaned forward and raised her hands to her face. “Oh, god. I thought this would be easier.”
“Syd?” he asked, gently.
She lowered her hands and met his eyes.
“What is it?”
“I think—Michael, I think I might have . . . feelings for . . . another woman.” She bit her lower lip as she looked at him with a lost expression. “For Maddie.”
He looked at her for a moment with an expression that was unreadable. Then he nodded. “And that makes you feel—how?”
“Oh, god. How do you think it makes me feel? Lost. Terrified.” She shook her head. “Ridiculous. Confused.” She paused and added quietly, “Excited.” She leaned her forehead against the palm of her right hand. “I don’t know what to do. I have no frame of reference for this. And even if I did. I don’t want to risk losing her friendship.”
“Honey, what makes you think you would ever lose her friendship?”
“I can barely trust myself to be around her. Every time I’m near her, I start acting like a horny teenager—like some ridiculous caricature of Roma Jean Freemantle. I’m terrified that she’s going to notice—that she’s noticed already. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how to make sense out of this.” She looked at him with desperation. “I mean, is this a fleeting thing—a product of my years of isolation? Is it just a phase? Is it just a function of how starved I’ve been for meaningful adult companionship? What do I do? How do I understand this?” She rubbed her forehead. “And what if I lose her? I don’t think I could stand that.”
“Okay. Okay. Let’s just dial this back a bit. You can’t take all of these issues on at once. You really will make yourself crazy.” He paused. “And me, along with you.” He smiled at her.
She sat back against her chair. “Okay.”
“So, you’re saying that you’ve never had feelings or inclinations like this toward another woman before?”
“Like this?”
He nodded.
She thought about it. “No. Not like this.” She looked past him toward the front of the library where the large poster of Danica Patrick hung next to the street door. The glamorous, dark-haired Formula One driver sat holding a James Patterson novel, staring back at her. Daring her to be honest with herself. She looked back at Michael. “I mean, sure, I’ve sometimes found other women to be attractive. But I’ve never—ever—acted on that or even thought about acting on it. No. No, it’s never been like this.” She slowly shook her head. “Not ever.”
He sighed. “So your feelings are pretty specific to Maddie?”
For just a moment, Syd felt like the floor had dropped away beneath her chair. “Yes.”
“Do you think this is just something you’re ready to come to terms with? Something bigger about yourself that finally feels comfortable or safe enough to come out?” He paused. “Pardon the pun.”
Against her will, she laughed. “Oh, god. I have no fucking idea.”
He reached across the table and took hold of her hands. “Here’s what I think.” She stared back at him expectantly. “You need to try and relax. Don’t keep trying to dissect this. Let it evolve into whatever it’s going to be. Give yourself time to figure it out. It’s not some kind of relay race, and you don’t have to break land records for speed to reach the next mile marker. Try to calm down. Cut yourself some slack.”
“But what if it’s true?”
“What if it is? It doesn’t change anything about who you are—not anything.” He raised an eyebrow. “Except maybe it shows that you have incredibly great taste in women.”
She rolled her eyes in dismay.
“Seriously. One day at a time. What will be, will be.”
She sighed. “I don’t know if you just gave me good advice, or an index to your Doris Day recordings.”
He laughed. “With me, it’s always best to ask.”
She sat quietly for a minute, digesting all he had said. “Even if I can manage to calm down, how on earth do I conduct myself around her? How do I manage not to mortify myself or embarrass her while I figure it all out?”
“I don’t think you could embarrass her. Not with this. Not with anything, really. She’s one of the best and kindest people I’ve ever known. You couldn’t have a better partner,” he shrugged, “or friend in this.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about Maddie. Don’t worry about anything. Just take your time. Try to listen to your heart, and not your fear.”
“You make it all sound so simple.”
“Well, that’s the beauty of it. At the end of the day, it is pretty simple. Once you know and understand what the realities are, it’s just a matter of choosing to accept them. And either you will or you won’t—that’s about all there is to it. The rest is just . . . noise.”
“Sound and fury?” she added.
He nodded. “Signifying nothing.”
She sat back and nervously crossed her arms. “S
o where were you when I was going through puberty?”
He laughed. “When you were going through puberty? If I had to guess, I’d say that I was probably seated across a table from someone having exactly this same conversation—except I was sitting in your chair.”
“Should I try to avoid her? At least, until I have some greater clarity about my . . . motivations?”
He shook his head. “I don’t see how that would help you, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to her. She wouldn’t understand it. Believe me when I tell you that your friendship is important to her. She doesn’t open up to people very easily, and being back here to live has been a difficult transition for her. She needs us—all of us.”
“I guess I knew that. I don’t think I’d be very successful staying away from her anyway. It’s the last thing I want.” She sighed, miserably. “And that’s the problem.”
He took her hand again. “It only feels like a problem today. It won’t forever. I promise. You’ll get to the other side of this, and when you do, you’ll know what the right course of action is. For you.”
She squeezed his big hand between hers. “I hope you’re right. I feel so ridiculous right now. Like I’m twelve again, with a crush on the most popular kid in school. I just don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
She shook her head. “I’ll just have to be more self-vigilant until I figure things out.”
“You don’t have to be self-vigilant. This isn’t a police action. If anything, you need to relax and be self-aware—that’s what will set you free. The longer you try to constrain and avoid what you’re feeling, the harder this process is going to be. Harder—and longer.”
“So you’re saying I should just go on like normal?”
He nodded. “Like your version of normal, yes.”
“And if my version of normal means I end up totally losing control and throwing myself at her, what then?”
“Well, for starters, try to give me a heads-up before anything like that happens so I can be sure to sedate David. But otherwise, if you morph into some kind of sex-crazed wanton around her, then that’s probably good information for you to have, too.”
She raised her hands to her face again. “Oh, god.” They sat in silence for a minute. “You know, I dreamed about her last night—in a graphic way. And I didn’t want to wake up. And I tried all morning to blow it off—to tell myself that it didn’t mean anything, but I knew deep down that it did. And I knew that I’d go crazy if I didn’t talk with someone about it.” She met his eyes. “So I called you. You were the first person I thought about.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad. And look at the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“Of course there is. If my advice ends up sucking, I can always make it up to you by keeping you well-supplied in baked goods.”
“You mean, like cookies?”
“We could discuss cookies.”
“Chocolate cookies?”
“That could happen, yes.”
She deliberated. “So, do I have to be a sex-crazed wanton to get these chocolate cookies?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Well, then, I suppose I can contain myself for a few more days.”
“That’s my girl.” He looked over her shoulder toward the back door. “In other news, it looks like the sun just came out.” He smiled at her. “Maybe that’s a good omen for you?”
They smiled at each other.
Chapter 11
The last day of the year was cold, but sunny and clear. Much of the accumulated snow had melted, but stubborn expanses of it continued to dot the pastures and cling to north-facing slopes. The roads, except for the remotest, unpaved county byways, were mostly clear—good news for local law enforcement, who worried about the presence of any hazardous travel conditions on a night that was sacred to revelry.
Maddie spent the day seeing patients in her clinic. It was a slow day with only four afternoon appointments, so she sent Peggy home shortly after three, and sat at the front desk herself, trying to get caught up on correspondence while she waited on her last patient.
She looked up when the door to the clinic opened, expecting to see Gladys Pitzer, who had called earlier about a puncture wound on her left forefinger. She had run some florist wire into it several days ago, and now thought it might be infected. Although she worked near the hospital, she preferred to see her own doctor, and Maddie encouraged her to stop by the clinic on her way home that afternoon—or to give her a call at home the next morning, and they could make arrangements to meet at the clinic later in the day.
But it wasn’t Gladys—it was David. And he was carrying two large cups of coffee.
“Howdy, hot stuff,” he cooed as he crossed the small waiting room. “I just got these at Freemantle’s. Edna made us a fresh pot. I had a feeling you’d still be here.”
She reached across the desk and took one of the cups from him. “Yeah. I’ve only got one more tentative appointment. Thanks for the coffee. What are you doing over here this afternoon?”
He perched on the edge of the desk. “I had to get a leak fixed on one of the front tires—that damn sensor light was driving me insane. It was like a strobe light cutting on and off.”
“I know what you mean.” She sat back in her chair and regarded him. He looked snappy in his wool slacks and cashmere sweater. “Isn’t this ensemble a tad too GQ for the Firestone garage?”
He looked down at his trousered leg as he slowly swung it back and forth. “I hardly think so. Some of us like to demonstrate that we shop at places other than the Salvation Army Thrift Store. Besides, have you seen the new manager over there?” He fanned his free hand in front of his face. “Oh, honey. He ain’t at all like the local white meat. I think he commutes in from Abingdon.”
“Uh huh. And does Michael share your appreciation of this new natural wonder?”
“Oh, puh-lease. Michael has already had the damn Range Rover in there three times since last week. I figured it was my turn to enjoy the view.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what do you have on tap for tonight? Settling down in your quilted robe to watch the Lawrence Welk marathon on PBS?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “How’d you guess? I really can’t keep any secrets from you, can I?”
“I wouldn’t advise you to try.”
“How about you guys? Are you planning anything at the Inn?”
“Nope. Not this year. We have no guests this weekend—by design. We’re going to kick back, make some big, greasy pizzas, and drink our weight in cheap North Carolina wine.”
“Sounds charming.”
“Care to join us? That’s really why I stopped by.”
“I had a feeling.”
“Rescuing you from a life of drudgery is like a vocation for me, Cinderella. It adds another star to my crown.”
“I think you might have mixed your metaphors. Isn’t Cinderella the one who ends up with the crown?”
“I was referring to my celestial crown. If you weren’t such a heathen, and occasionally went to Sunday school, you’d know these things.”
“Yes, it’s clear how well a life of religious perspicacity has served you.”
“Oh shit, I hate it when you start trotting out those five-syllable words. It always makes me feel like my co-pay just jumped another ten bucks.”
“You’re a lunatic.”
“So, what about it? Pizzas? Cheap wine? Eight o’clock? Your place?”
“My place?”
“Of course. It’s hardly a night off for us if we’re slinging hash at the Inn.”
She sighed. “Okay. Fine.”
“What about Goldilocks?”
She eyed him with suspicion. “What about her?”
He rolled his eyes. “Duh? What are her plans for the evening?”
Maddie shrugged. “Why would you expect me
to know?”
David raised his eyes toward the heavens. “Oh, gee . . . I dunno. Maybe because, for some strange reason that completely eludes me, she seems to think that your porridge is just right?”
“You’re nuts.”
“I’m nuts?”
“Yes.”
He set his coffee cup down on the desk and crossed his arms. “And that’s why you’re blushing—because I’m nuts?”
“Shut up. I’m not blushing, and even if I were, it would only be out of embarrassment for you, and how you cling to this persistent delusion.”
“Uh huh. And which of my many delusions would we be talking about?”
“Syd. Me. Give it up. It’s never going to happen. And I don’t want you playing any more of these reindeer games.”
He sighed. “In the first place, you’re the one harboring persistent delusions. Anyone with opposable thumbs can see that the sprightly and curvaceous Miss Murphy has a more than sisterly fascination with your,” he waved his hands around to indicate her shape, “stuff.”
Maddie groaned.
“And in the second place,” he continued, “even if you were right—and you’re not—it ain’t like we all move in such an expansive social set that we can afford to start editing out smart, funny, and charming companions. Especially ones who are so easy on the eyes.” He paused. “She’s a good friend—to all of us. And I’m not going to avoid her just because you can’t keep your libido in your boxer shorts.”
She regarded him coolly. “I don’t wear boxer shorts.”
“Yes you do. You just wear them on your brain.”
“If I ever figure out what that’s supposed to mean, I’ll be sure to come back with a crushing response.”
“You do that.” He stood up. “But in the meantime, I’m going to call her and see if she has plans for the evening. You can go home and douse your head in a bucket of ice water, right before you shimmy into your sexiest big girl britches and deal with it.”
She sighed. “Fine. At least if I’m at home, I can get drunk.”
“That’s my girl—always looking for the silver lining.”
Maddie heard the sound of a car in the parking lot out front, and the opening and closing of doors.
