Turbulence

by E. J. Noyes

Relieved, I settled back in my seat. Still, the leak had to come from somewhere. An overheard phone call David Oldham had made. A client of Mark’s who didn’t grasp the importance of privacy. I realized with discomfort that I’d probably never know. “Well it’s nice to see you’re still not above digging in the dirt for information.”

  Steph grabbed my arm. “Listen. Stop being bitchy because you’re pissed about what happened between us. Take what you’ve made and run that company like a bitch. You’ve earned it. You’re better than him and you know it.”

  Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”

  She released me. “I don’t want anything, Isabelle.” Steph raised her left hand to show off an emerald-cut diamond and platinum Harry Winston engagement ring. Nice. “Despite everything, I don’t want you to fail, I never did. Call it sisterhood or whatever.” She raised a bare, tanned shoulder in a lazy shrug. “And this way I can claim credit when you’re sitting at the top of the earnings list.”

  I smiled, and it wasn’t even forced. I didn’t hate her so much as I was annoyed by her return to the sphere I’d tried so hard to make my own. “You do get credit, Stephanie. But not the way you think.”

  “I’ll take it.” She was such a narcissist. But that wasn’t my problem anymore. It was the problem of whoever had stuck that rock on her hand. “Seriously though, Isabelle, try to find some balance this time. I saw those pictures from the AWL gala and she is lovely.”

  “Noted,” I said flatly. It seemed a moot point now.

  Steph studied me with a raised, tinted eyebrow. Understanding dawned on her face and I felt a flash of irritation that clearly she hadn’t lost the ability to read me. “You broke up with her,” she said.

  I sighed, turning my glass in circles on the table. “No. Yes. I don’t know. She’s ignoring me.”

  Steph heaved an exasperated sigh. “You can be such an idiot. Like I said, I saw the pictures. Isabelle, you were looking at her in a way you never looked at me. If she’s ignoring you then you need to do something else. Make her listen. You’ve always been like this.” She emphasized with a dramatic air clutch, like this was the most frustrating thing she’d ever had to tell anyone.

  “Like what?” I asked indignantly.

  “You’re content, Isabelle. Content to let Mark Hall deal with the nitty-gritty parts of running the company. Content to take all those whispers from bitches about where you came from, without standing up to them. Content to just…let this woman ignore you.” She drew herself up. “I bet you’ve done nothing except call and text.”

  “I emailed,” I mumbled.

  “Well, that would certainly get my attention,” Steph said drily. She could be quite witty when she wanted to be. “Stop being just content and woman up. At work and with your girlfriend. Now Mark Hall’s out of the picture, you can either front up or fuck off.”

  Ouch. “Life and relationship advice from my ex. Is this a special kind of hell?”

  Steph smiled, more like the woman who used to fall into hysterical laughter watching SpongeBob. “Maybe it is. For both of us. At any rate, it’s added something to my karma bank.” She glanced across the room, raised a hand in acknowledgement then stood. “When you’re top of the list, remember me in your memoirs. But don’t put me under mistakes. That’s just bad taste.” She pecked me softly on the cheek and walked away.

  I watched her wind her way gracefully through the restaurant, then picked up my phone and texted Clare. Apologizing for contacting her after hours, I asked her to arrange an urgent flight for tomorrow. When I set my phone back down, I felt lighter and more at peace with myself than I had all week. Damn Steph for shoving me in the right direction.

  Even if visiting Audrey turned into a massive clusterfuck of a failure then at least I’d know for certain.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Clare messaged to confirm my flight to Minnesota was set for after lunch on Saturday, the timing planned around when Audrey might be back from the hospital, if in fact her mother was still in there. Or still alive. Before crawling into bed Friday night, I took half a sleeping pill, knowing that Sleep-Deprived Isabelle would make a difficult situation even worse.

  I woke feeling mostly human to spend all morning sitting on the floor of my office hunched over the semi-circle of printouts, hand-drawn charts and dot point lists. I had a handout ready for the employees, and was sure I had a strategy for handling both the influx of clients and managing the staff. So far, the strategy consisted mostly of “working a whole fucking lot more.”

  William collected me at midday, delivered me dutifully to the airport and Schwartz had me touching down at South St. Paul Municipal a little after four. The driver of the waiting car, a polite bashful young man, confirmed the address Clare had given me and then left me alone as he drove. This was it, no backing out.

  I stared out the window, vaguely registering the scenery while I tried to think of what to say. Talking was my strong point. I could spin out words to convince people without even thinking about it. But now when it really mattered, I couldn’t think of a fucking thing. Sorry featured heavily in all my options but it wasn’t enough. I needed reasons why, and truthfulness if I was going to convince her of how deeply I felt.

  Audrey’s mother—Marietta—lived on about an acre of gently sloping land with a long driveway dissecting her neatly-mown lawn. In the fading light I could see the rose bushes escorting us up to a house which was a two story typical of what I’d seen on the drive over, though perhaps smaller. A porch wrapped tightly around three-quarters of the white wooden house, with a gabled roof and large windows dominating the façade.

  The driver parked under a large oak tree at the edge of the circular drive and waited patiently while I fumbled for my pocketbook. He fetched my small overnight bag from the trunk and waited again until I’d walked up the path, before he drove off. Now that I was here, on her mother’s doorstep, a sudden and overwhelming burst of emotion almost paralyzed me.

  But I was stuck, at least until I could call the driver to come back. And I couldn’t sit on this porch forever. The worst thing that could happen was she’d ask me to leave, right? I could handle that with a modicum of dignity, at least while in her presence. Just do it, Isabelle. Before I could have a more protracted argument with myself, I pressed the bell, tucked my free hand into my pocket and waited.

  Footsteps were followed by a long pause and then the sound of a chain dragging and locks clicking. There was the longest moment of nothingness, like I’d suddenly been pulled into a vacuum. Then the door opened.

  Audrey studied me with an inscrutable expression. “Iz. Hey,” she said, the faintest smile finally lifting the edge of her mouth. She looked incredibly tired, like she was on the verge of falling apart. Rumpled and mussed in faded sweats and a hoodie, she was still so damned beautiful it made my throat tight. My heart double-timed, both with anxiety and that sweet longing I always felt near her.

  “Hey,” I responded, the very model of articulation. “Sorry to drop in without calling.”

  “That’s okay.” Her fingers tightened on the door.

  “How’s your mama?” I asked quickly, just to make sure there was no silence.

  The smile grew a little. “Mom.”

  My eyebrow reached for my hairline. “Pardon me?”

  “Us Yankees call them moms.”

  Her gentle humor made me smile in return, easing a little of my fear. “Well then, how is your mom?”

  “She’s doing better.” Audrey opened the door wider. “So, you were just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by?”

  “Something like that. I’ve had some rough flying these last few days. Why didn’t you return my messages?”

  She practically winced. “I’m sorry, Iz. I forgot my phone charger in the rush to leave and I’ve pretty much just been at the hospital, or sleeping since I got here.” She sighed. “I bought a charger a few days ago but…honestly I needed some time to think and coo
l off. I’m sorry I didn’t get in contact with you.”

  I nodded slowly. Though it was an honest explanation it was still upsetting. “I was really worried.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again quietly.

  Forcing the upset down, I held out the bunch of flowers I’d carried from New York. “These are for your mama.”

  “Nothing for me?” Audrey asked lightly.

  “Only myself. If you’ll still have me.” My gut tightened. She wasn’t cold but she was definitely guarded, and I had absolutely no idea where we stood with each other.

  She smiled sadly and pulled the door fully open. “Come in. It’s freezing out.” She took the flowers from me and placed them on the sideboard just inside the doorway.

  I exhaled a puff of warm breath. “Thank you.” I slipped inside and she stepped around me to close the door. Audrey stood with her back to me, a hand flat against the wooden door, her head bowed. For the longest time she didn’t move.

  “Audrey?” I whispered loudly.

  She spun, and before I had time to think her hands were caressing my face, her eyes locked with mine. Those beautiful hands were warm against my cold cheeks, thumbs running softly along my cheekbones. She drew in a deep, slow breath. “You said ‘if I’ll have you’.” Audrey stared at me, pulling me into her arms before I could react. “I want you always and forever, Iz. I’m not whole without you.”

  Audrey held me tightly, like she was afraid I’d disappear or pull away. I slipped back into her embrace as though I’d never left it, and when I tucked my nose under her chin I could feel her heart beat in the pulse at her neck. Burrowed into her shoulder, I wrapped my arms around her and slid my hands under her hoodie to scratch her back lightly. She felt exactly the way I remembered.

  I didn’t cry. Until she did. Just a little hiccupping sob but it was enough. We shared tears as we held each other in the entryway of her mother’s house. I hadn’t responded to her words, hadn’t told her how incomplete I was without her. The thought didn’t worry me, because I sensed that despite everything, she knew. We could have stood in our embrace for minutes or hours—I didn’t know, but eventually she pulled back and wiped her face on her sleeve.

  I palmed tears from my cheeks and launched in without thinking. “Audrey, I love you. All of you. I love you in your scruffy pair of jeans, and I love your hair and your smile and I love the way you make me laugh and I love that I can only get eye level with you when you’re barefoot and I’m in four inches of heel.”

  Her mouth opened, but I stopped her speaking by putting a hand over it, desperate to get the words out without interruption. My eyes searched hers, trying to gauge her response. “I love the way I feel whenever I’m with you. I love you. I’m in love with you. There, I said it…and now I’m worried because you haven’t said anything.”

  She laughed and moved back, away from the hand I had clapped over her mouth. “Isabelle, you shushed me.” Her laughed died away and the playful sparkle in her eye dimmed to seriousness. “Don’t you see? I’ve been in love with you since the first night you came to my place.”

  Tears welled again and I blinked a few times, trying to force them back. “Really?”

  “Yes really.” A thumb ran over my lips. “I love you.” She held eye contact with me then leaned in and kissed me tenderly.

  I fisted her sweatshirt. “I’m not saying it just because we had a fight either. I’ve wanted to say it for a long time but I’ve been too afraid.”

  “Me too. Come and sit down.” After another soft kiss, Audrey took my hand and led me up the hallway. Her mother’s house seemed to be laid out with a hallway as an artery and rooms branching off on both sides. It was light and airy, the walls painted in differing bright colors and full of vibrant paintings and photos I couldn’t quite make out.

  Audrey waited until I’d settled on the couch then moved away to poke at the fire and add another log. She carefully replaced the screen and set the poker in its rack. This simple domestic gesture made my chest ache with desperation to move back to what we’d had.

  The moment she sat beside me, Audrey drew me even closer so I was almost on her lap, and took my hands. Holding her hands in mine felt like having a lost piece of myself returned. “Audrey, I owe you a huge apology. For keeping our relationship from Mark the way I did and also for what I said about the money thing, for what it implied. I really didn’t mean it.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it that way, honey, but I won’t lie. It was a crappy thing to say and it really hurt me.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “And on top of you not telling Mark…”

  “Yes it was,” I whispered. “There’s more to it, but I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are, and I shouldn’t have run out the way I did. I wasn’t thinking straight and it was just a little too much on top of my mom.”

  I squeezed her hands, suddenly desperate to clear the air between us. “I was going to tell him that day, I swear I was. I even got as far as ‘I wanted’ but then he cut me off and dragged me into a meeting. Then he told me he wants to sell me his half of the business, and if I wasn’t agreeable, we’d have to dissolve.”

  “What!”

  “Mhmm, and he needs this because he’s basically being sued for acting against a client’s instruction. And the kicker? The reason he did was because he hates his job so much that he just couldn’t be fucked doing it right anymore.” I drew in a deep breath. “So, sweetheart, I really am sorry I didn’t tell him about us when I said I would. But I got a little sidetracked that day.”

  She could have been shitty about my slightly passive-aggressive explanation, but instead she brushed a soft kiss over my lips. “That’s a whole lot of crap all at once. What’s happening then?”

  “We haggled a little and I bought him out. Contracts signed yesterday.”

  “Well.” She blinked a few times. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. I think fuck just about sums it up.” I smiled wryly. “You should really check your emails.”

  Her expression turned inward and I could almost imagine all the thoughts bouncing around her head. A slow smile blossomed. “So it will be you who fires me?” she asked teasingly.

  “You shit.” I pulled her hand to my mouth and kissed it. “Seriously, how’re you? Is your mom really doing better?”

  “We’re okay, and yeah she came home yesterday. She’s still weak but she’ll be fine.”

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Audrey explained how Marietta’s pneumonia was complicated by the lung cancer she’d beaten eight years ago. We spoke in low voices, the conversation eventually coming back to our argument, with no feelings overlooked. There was still so much we had to talk about, more hurts to dredge up, but knowing that we could, that I now had the chance, eased my worry.

  “Audrey, I didn’t mean to make you feel worthless or like I didn’t want to be with you. I just…wanted something Mark wasn’t involved in, that was mine alone, that I didn’t need to negotiate or discuss. I didn’t realize at the time, but my therapist pointed out how hurtful it was for me to do that to you.”

  “It was, yes,” she said carefully. “But I’m not blameless either, Iz. I left and I shouldn’t have ignored you the way I did, it was wrong and I own that.” Her hand tightened then relaxed against my thigh. “Remember when we were talking about our flaws?”

  “Mhmm.”

  Audrey’s gaze was fixed on the fire. “I never told you my big one. The one where I run away when I get scared. I don’t like…feeling like I don’t matter, and I panicked.”

  She was so unshakeable that I couldn’t imagine her being afraid of anything to do with relationships. “Look at me, darling. What are you afraid of?”

  “That you didn’t really want me, that it was only about the sex,” she said simply. “I mean that’s all we had for so long, you know? I wanted more but I thought you didn’t, and we’d only just decided to go further when we fought. Even listening to your messages asking about my mom, I cou
ldn’t shake that overwhelming paranoia that you were only calling because you missed fucking me.”

  “You do matter,” I said forcefully. “You’re so important to me, not just in bed, Audrey and I’m sorry I never actually said the words to you.”

  “I think maybe I knew, deep down,” she said slowly. “But I was too scared to really let myself believe it. Fear isn’t always logical, Iz.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I murmured.

  We sat quietly for a while, watching the fire dance while Audrey played with my hair. I closed my eyes, leaning into her and scratching lightly through her hoodie. Through the fabric I felt the muscle of her abdomen tense and relax as my fingers dug for purchase, and I remembered what lay under her clothes, the body I’d loved so many times.

  Along with all my other emotions, my desire for her was as strong as ever. But more than anything, in that moment I just wanted to exist with her. Sex, lust—that could all come later. Right now it was about our emotional connection. How far we’d come from a time when we were only about sex.

  Her arm stole around my waist, lips brushed my forehead. “So what’s next for Rhodes and Hall?”

  Groaning, I opened my eyes. “I can’t even think about it right now.” I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “There’s a meeting Monday with all the staff. Details in the email.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  A wave of fear crashed into me. “Are you coming back?” I caught my lower lip between my teeth.

  She nodded, seeming surprised I’d asked. “Yes, of course. My brother’s flying in tomorrow to be with Mom, so I can fly back tomorrow night or Monday morning.”

  I climbed into her lap, snuggling into her and suddenly I felt like I could breathe again. She held me, stroking my hair and murmuring gentle nonsensical words. After a time, she spoke words that were as clear as anything. “Are you staying here tonight?”

  “I have a hotel. I’ll just need to call a car.”

  “Stay with me?” She held my hands tightly, almost as though she thought I might leave right that instant.