by Ann McMan
They stared at each other. It occurred to Syd that they spent a lot of time staring at each other.
“Okay, I won’t,” Maddie said. “But you have to help me with this. I can’t be strong for both of us.” Her blue eyes reflected the intensity of her plea.
Syd sat down opposite her and gripped the sides of the table with both hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll try.” She sighed deeply and bit her bottom lip. “If I promise you that I won’t get up or move my hands, will you let me kiss you again?”
Maddie gave her a small smile. “Could I stop you?”
“If you really wanted to,” Syd said in a whisper.
“I don’t want to.”
“Well, thank god.” Syd leaned across the table, and Maddie met her halfway. They exchanged a short succession of kisses that started innocently enough, but rapidly progressed to passionate when Maddie parted her lips, and Syd felt the first, fleeting touch of her tongue. Then all bets were off as Syd began devouring her mouth while still tightly gripping the edges of the table. Their lips and tongues were their only points of contact as they touched, teased, and twisted together in an elaborate pantomime of what their bodies wanted. It was all too heady—too intense. She knew they had to stop—that she was losing control. But she had never felt anything like this before—this rush of heat and arousal that overwhelmed her senses and laid waste to her better judgment. Maddie was intoxicating, and Syd licked and probed at her mouth like a crazed addict who was finally getting her first real fix.
In a desperate fit of self-control, she tore her mouth away and tipped her head back, taking urgent breaths. Maddie immediately shifted her attention to her throat and began kissing her way down toward her collarbone.
“Stop,” Syd gasped. “Oh, god, we have to stop.”
Maddie dropped her forehead to Syd’s shoulder. She was breathing deeply, too. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It was my fault.”
“No. Not this time.” She sat up and pushed back onto her chair. “I think I should leave.”
Syd looked at her anxiously. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to leave, either. But I think I need to.” She gave her a crooked smile. “We can talk tomorrow.”
Syd dropped her chin to her chest. “Okay, I know you’re right.” She raised her eyes to Maddie’s. “Let me at least make you a sandwich for the road. It won’t take a second.”
Maddie nodded her assent, and Syd quickly pulled the items together and wrapped them up in a small bag. Maddie stood up shakily and pulled on her leather jacket. Syd walked with her to the door and handed her the paper bag. Maddie took the bag, and then pulled her into a warm hug. They stood there by the door for a full minute, tightly wrapped-up in each other’s arms. Neither of them spoke. Then Maddie pulled back, kissed Syd lightly on the forehead, and turned to walk quickly down the stairs.
Syd stood rooted to the spot, feeling dazed and lightheaded as she listened to Maddie’s retreating footsteps. When she heard the street door open and close, she turned back into her small apartment, wondering if she had any more Cheetos.
MADDIE WASN’T SURE how she made the drive back to her farm. Her mind was in a daze, and her body was on overload from too much stimulation. She had already been drifting in a state of angst and confusion from the events of the weekend, and tonight, Syd’s revelation had slammed the gears of their blossoming relationship into some kind of hyper-drive. It was exhilarating and stultifying in nearly equal measure. She needed time to take it all in and to make sense of it, and she needed to find a way to calm herself down so she could think clearly.
She entered her house and quickly fixed Pete’s dinner, then carried it and her sandwich out to the front porch. She knew she wasn’t likely to get much sleep, so she decided to take advantage of the warmer evening and settle down in one of the big Adirondack chairs that overlooked the pond. Pete inhaled his bowl of food and promptly passed out at her feet. Maddie watched him with envy, wishing she could be so lucky. She had poured herself another glass of wine, and sat sipping it as she tried to talk herself into a state of calm she did not feel.
There was no denying that she was happy—even euphoric—over the amazing turn their relationship had taken. She had been beating back her romantic feelings for Syd for so long now that it felt illicit and unnatural to acknowledge them, much less act on them. Even after the events of this evening, there was a part of her that felt guilty to be indulging her thoughts so freely. But Syd had effectively blown all of those best intentions wide open with one simple kiss.
She smiled to herself. Simple was hardly an accurate way to describe it. She was still woozy from the after-effects of their intimate contact—woozy, and incredibly turned on. My god, the woman can kiss. I don’t know how I got out of there without taking her to bed. God knows, I wanted to.
She knew that a big part of her immediate agitation derived from their truncated physical interaction. They both wanted more—that much was clear. The depth of Syd’s passion surprised her. It was clear that once she decided to embrace her attraction to another woman, she was going to be relentless in her exploration of it. Maddie closed her eyes as she relived the sensation of Syd’s mouth moving against hers. The determined touch of her lips. Her tongue. Jesus.
She’d gone too long without this kind of contact—that much was clear. But even allowing for her recent dearth of sexual interaction, she’d never experienced the kind of total sensory explosion she’d had tonight with Syd. Not even with Gina, with whom she’d had her longest and most sexually-charged relationship.
She was in love with Syd. She knew that. She loved her, and she found her desirable beyond imagining. It was only her steadfast belief that there was no possibility of a future with Syd that had prevented her from dwelling too much on how deeply she was attracted to her. Now? Now all of that had flown right out the window, and she was left dazed and adrift in a sea of new possibilities.
She knew that to stand any chance at all of making something lasting out of their fledgling romance, they would have to slow it down. But how? Against her own better judgment, Syd seemed determined to throw caution to the wind and dive right in. And Maddie, who knew too well the hazards of moving so fast, worried about finding the best way rein things in, while still giving Syd the freedom she needed to explore her feelings.
She took a deep breath and stared out across the dark expanse of lawn that sloped down toward the pond. It is beautiful here. Syd was right about that. For too long, she had held her own emotions at bay—afraid to let her guard down. Afraid to be hurt again. Afraid to be vulnerable. Afraid to risk embracing what she wanted because her fear of losing it was greater than her need for happiness. Until now.
Seeing Celine in Richmond brought all of that back full circle—that persistent undercurrent of loss and betrayal. There still were too many unanswered questions with no promise of resolution. Why was Celine so cold and so distant? Why, after all these years, did she even care? And the truth was she did care. It did matter to her. The pain of her mother’s pointed disregard was like a barb in her side, and no amount of distance or passage of time could dislodge it. She’d lived with it for so long that it had warped her developmentally—bent her psyche into a flawed and twisted shape—leading her to hedge every bet in every relationship she’d ever had. Always she withheld herself. Always she kept the deepest parts of who she was boxed-up and stashed conveniently by the nearest exit, ready for flight.
Flight. What a metaphor that was for the passion she shared with her father. They had the same drive to escape and soar above it all. Everything was simpler from ten thousand feet. A landscape that blocked and confounded her on the ground was transformed when viewed from the air. The terrain below fell into geometric patterns that made sense. She understood how to relate to it and how to navigate across it. It wasn’t personal, and it couldn’t hurt her or trip her up. She could leave it behind, before it left her.
In the distance, she saw some deer slowly m
aking their way toward the pond. At her feet, Pete was snoring softly, and she hoped he wouldn’t wake up and chase them away. She wondered sometimes why he bothered—the deer always came back. This drive to push nature back and defend the sacred boundaries of human existence was an ageless contest. But nature always persevered. Nature had time and patience on its side. Nature could wait. Slowly, as the years passed and people grew too old or too tired or too infirm to struggle, the deer would come back—closer, more plentiful, and less timid than before. In the end, human aspirations would wither and die along with the corporeal bodies that once contained them, and nature would have its way.
She shook her head and tried to clear it from fixing too much on these deeper and more distressing channels of thought. She wanted to be less fatalistic. She wanted to find a way to let whatever happened with Syd unfold at its own pace and develop into whatever it would be without the burden of being front loaded with the angst of her previous failures. Above all else, she wanted a shot at a future with Syd, and the best way to let that happen would be to break from the patterns that defined her other relationships. She was determined to do this, even it meant denying herself the joy of indulging in the intimacy she knew Syd was poised to seek. It was too important to her to succeed. This time, she wanted it to be right—wanted it to last.
She was jolted from her reverie when Pete sat up with a start. In a flash, he was off the porch, barking and running full out toward the now retreating deer. Maddie could see the flash of their white tails as they leapt over the fence that ran alongside her lane.
Nature, it seemed, would have to wait a bit longer.
On the table next to her chair, her cell phone vibrated. Absently, she picked it up.
“This is Stevenson.”
“Doctor, I need your help.” It was Syd.
She smiled and shifted lower into her chair. “You do?”
“Oh, I do.”
“Well, I have been known to make house calls.”
“I know . . . and that would be the problem.”
“Care to explain what you mean?”
“The kind of house call I have in mind would only make my condition worse.”
Maddie sighed. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”
“So,” Syd’s tone was didactic, “you’re the scientist. What do we do about this situation?”
“If I knew the answer to that, I’d be a very rich woman who wouldn’t be sitting outside in the cold—alone—nursing a facial tic.”
Syd laughed. “So much for all those many skills you like to brag about.”
“Yeah, well, there are just some things that aren’t knowable.”
“Really?” Syd asked sweetly. “Then how do you know that?”
Maddie groaned. “Remind me never to have philosophical discussions with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you always kick my ass.”
“Oh, we’re back to your ass already? That happened in record time.”
Maddie tapped her index finger against the back of the phone. “Did you call just to make me crazy?”
“No,” Syd said softly. “I called to tell you that thinking about you is making me crazy.”
Maddie didn’t trust herself to respond to that. Silence stretched out between them.
“Are you still there?” Syd asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Was that the wrong thing for me to say?”
Maddie shook her head. “No. No it wasn’t wrong at all.”
“Why’d you get so quiet, then?”
“Because it’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to jump in my car and roar back over there.”
She heard Syd exhale. “I know. I’ve been walking around here with my car keys in my hand for the last half hour. I’m a mess, Maddie. It’s pathetic. I’ve never been like this before.”
Maddie felt dizzy. “You haven’t?”
“No. Not like this.” She paused. “I want you so much—more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. It’s terrifying.”
“Syd?”
“Yes?”
“When it doesn’t feel terrifying, that’s when we can do something about it.”
She heard the deep sigh on the other end of the line. “I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” Syd paused again. “Is this as hard for you, too.” Her voice sounded tentative.
Maddie closed her eyes. “Do you really not know the answer to that?”
“I guess I just needed to hear you say it again.”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes, it’s hard for me. Yes, I’m crazy with wanting you. Yes, I’ve kicked myself a thousand times for leaving you tonight. Yes, I want nothing more than to have you in my arms right now. Yes, Syd—yes to everything.”
It was Syd’s turn to fall silent.
“Are you still there?” Maddie asked after a few moments.
“What’s left of me is still here.”
“What do you mean?” Maddie was afraid that she’d said too much.
“I think I . . . I just . . .” She sighed. “I think—I think that’s the first time I’ve ever had an orgasm without being touched.”
Maddie made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
“God, I’m sorry. I guess that was beyond inappropriate.”
Maddie was consumed with the desire to tell Syd that she loved her, but she knew it was too soon. “No. Don’t apologize. How could that be inappropriate?”
Syd gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. Something about you makes me want to tell the truth. I don’t want to hide anything from you—even if it’s embarrassing or too self-revealing. Is that crazy?”
Maddie was incredulous. “No, it’s not crazy.” She hesitated. “Maybe you can teach me how to do the same thing.”
“Do you need help with that?”
“God, yes. I need all the help you can give me. I don’t want to muck this up, Syd. I want it to work. I want a future with you.”
“Then let’s figure it out together. I trust you. I know you would never hurt me.”
Maddie’s eyes welled with tears. “Not intentionally.”
“That’s good, then. That’s enough for now. I’m not going anyplace. I won’t run from you. We have time to see if this is right—to see where it takes us. I realized tonight that this is a trip I’m ready to take . . . with you.”
I love you. The three little words that would simplify and complicate everything hung on the end of her tongue. She bit them back. “I’m glad. I want that, too—more than anything.” She wiped a hand across her eyes. “I won’t run from you, either. I promise.”
“Will you do me a favor?” Syd asked, shyly.
“Of course. What is it?”
“Will you call me ‘honey’ again? I really liked that.”
Maddie’s heart surged up into her throat. “Goodnight, honey. Sweet dreams.”
“God, thank you. Goodnight.” Syd hung up.
Maddie sat with the phone pressed to her ear for a full minute as she waited for her pulse rate to return to normal. Sweet dreams, indeed. Maybe there were even a few left for her.
Chapter 18
The rest of the week passed uneventfully for Syd, except for the quiet revolution that was systematically transforming the internal landscape of her life. She thought over and over about all those mean-spirited Helen Keller jokes her brother used to tell her when they were kids, consigned to the back seat of the car on long family trips. “How did Helen Keller’s parents punish her? Rearrange the furniture.” But that’s exactly how she felt right now—like she was blindly fumbling across terrain that ought to be familiar, but wasn’t anymore. Something had reached down inside her tidy and organized existence and shifted everything around, and it was going to take her some time to get her bearings and feel her way through the surprising new arrangement.
But Michael had been right about one thing—she did still feel like herself. She knew that at some point, she needed to face
up to the complex set of realities that loomed ahead of her. She needed to talk with her parents. And she needed to decide what, if any, impact this nascent relationship with Maddie would have on her immediate future, because she couldn’t continue to forestall making plans for her life after Jericho.
She had seen Maddie only twice since Monday—the night when everything between them had changed. She had been saddled with back-to-back evening commitments at the library, and on the third night, Maddie had a patient emergency that kept her tied up at the hospital for most of the evening. But they had talked a lot on the phone, and they had made the most of their brief opportunities to be together.
On Tuesday, they met for a quick lunch at Freemantle’s market, and they sat in awkward silence at their tiny, plastic-topped table, struggling with their physical proximity in surroundings that made any kind of intimate contact impossible.
Most of their conversation was non-verbal—quiet smiles and casual touches that were anything but casual. Syd laughed when she recalled how Maddie bought a small bag of crunchy Cheetos at the checkout counter, then winked as she handed them to her outside in the parking lot.
“You might need these later on,” she said, smiling.
“You promise?” Syd replied, as she snatched the bag and stuffed it into her purse.
On Wednesday night, Syd played host to the regular, monthly meeting of the Tri-County Library Board, and Maddie attended the meeting, in tandem with four other board members. It was abject torture for Syd to have to sit across the large oak table from Maddie while she attempted to give a coherent presentation about her recent trip to Richmond and described likely cutbacks in state funding. She hadn’t been one hundred percent certain that Maddie would even attend the meeting, and she felt her heart rate speed up when she saw her enter the library with Phoebe Jenkins—another board member.
Maddie was wearing a tailored gray suit that hugged her long body, and her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders like a thick wave. Syd found it difficult to breathe when she looked at her, so she tried to avoid making eye contact, and she hoped that Maddie would intuit the reasons why.
