by Lyn Denison
Now Rosemary’s fingers found the curls of dark hair and slipped into the dampness within. Her long fingers filled Kate, her thumb circling Kate’s clitoris, and Kate moaned. Kate’s body tensed as Rosemary slowed and then quickened her pace, her lips raining soft kisses over Kate’s flat stomach. Then her mouth replaced her thumb, and she used her lips and tongue to lift Kate higher until, with an assuaging cry, Kate crested and fell into a shuddering release.
“You are very talented,” she said when she’d caught her breath.
Rosemary chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She took Kate’s hand and drew her to her feet. “Let’s get more comfortable, and you can return the favor.”
Kate allowed Rosemary to lead her down the hallway into her bedroom. She quickly dispensed with Rosemary’s clothes and lowered her body to Rosemary’s. Afterward they lay side-by-side and watched the moonlight dance across the ceiling.
Kate turned her head to look at Rosemary “When did you first know?”
“That I preferred women?” Rosemary laughed softly. “You or women in general?”
Kate pulled a face. “Women in general.”
“I guess I always knew deep down. But I grew up in a town smaller than this one, and you know what small towns are like. The pressures to conform are so much greater than in the city. I even went so far as to marry my best friend’s brother.”
Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You were married? I didn’t know that.”
Rosemary pulled a face. “It wasn’t the highlight of my life. You see I really wanted to marry my best friend, not her brother.”
Ashley’s face, her laughing blue eyes, flashed into Kate’s mind, and she had to push away painful memories. “Did you tell your best friend that?”
“No. Never.” Rosemary looked away, seeing her own obviously disturbing demons.
“Do you still love her?” Kate asked softly, and Rosemary shrugged.
“Not really. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then. I don’t think she ever forgave me for divorcing Tom, but I thought I’d already ruined five years of his life. So I left it all behind me and headed for the anonymity of the big smoke. I found the clubs and haven’t looked back. How about you?”
Kate shrugged. “I was about fifteen when I realized I loved women,” she admitted carefully. A woman, she corrected to herself. “I had a couple of brief affairs when I was away at university but, well, it was and is too difficult.”
“Especially so here in the old hometown,” Rosemary finished and Kate nodded. “Funny we’ve never talked about this before, isn’t it? I guess we never seem to get around to it.”
“Food and sex.” Kate raised her eyebrows. “Do you suppose our relationship is too shallow?”
Rosemary laughed and ran her hand up Kate’s thigh and over her flat stomach, settling her fingers on the rise of her breast. “If it is I’ll settle for shallow.” She gazed into Kate’s eyes. “For the time being anyway,” she added softly, and Kate tried not to look guiltily away, feeling she was using Rosemary and not wanting to admit it to herself.
Rosemary raised herself on one elbow. “So what about you, Kate? What’s your story? Was there ever anyone special?”
Kate had never spoken to anyone about Ashley, and she hesitated now.
“Ah.” Rosemary gently touched Kate’s lips with her finger. “Do I know this lucky woman?”
Kate shook her head. “No. It was a long time ago. We were both so young. Too young.”
“But it still hurts.”
“Perhaps a little.” What an understatement, Kate derided herself. She was beginning to suspect it still hurt a lot.
“Tell me about it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t anything startling. Happens all the time.”
“That doesn’t make it any less painful,” Rosemary said gently.
“It was all such a mess,” Kate said, her voice breaking unconsciously.
“Where is she now?”
“She moved down south.”
“She ‘done you wrong’?”
“Not exactly. As I said, we were both very young.”
“And?”
Kate swallowed. “Her mother found us together.” The familiar feeling of shame began to clutch at Kate, but she thrust it away. She had nothing to be ashamed about; she’d kept telling herself that. What was shameful about loving someone the way she’d loved Ashley?
“In flagrante delicto?”
“Oh, yes.” Kate grimaced.
Rosemary groaned with feeling. “I see.”
“We were in her room.” Kate shook her head. “It wasn’t much fun, I can tell you.”
“I can imagine it wasn’t. So what happened then?”
“Well, everything and nothing.” Kate sighed. “Her mother went aggro, threatened to tell my aunt and her father.” She shrugged. “Then she married her boyfriend and that was that.”
“You mean they married her off?” Rosemary was incredulous.
“Not exactly.” Kate swallowed. The truth of it still cut through her like a knife. “She chose to get married,” she said flatly, and Rosemary was silent for long moments.
“Oh, Kate. I’m sorry. It must have been awful.”
Kate shrugged. “As you said, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.” She peered across at Rosemary’s bedside clock radio. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.” Rosemary sighed too. “Wish you didn’t have to go. Why don’t you stay?”
Kate pushed herself into a sitting position. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep for fear I would sleep in.”
“I really hate all this sneaking about,” Rosemary grumbled. “We are consenting adults, after all.” She pulled Kate back down across her. “You were fantastic tonight,” she said and kissed Kate eagerly.
Kate kissed her back and gently drew away, that same surge of guilt clutching at her as the thought that she had been making love to a memory rose to taunt her. “I’d better go.”
“I guess you’d better.” Rosemary sighed. “Before I get other ideas,” she added with a rueful smile.
Kate padded into the still lighted living room and retrieved her clothes. Rosemary joined her. She’d pulled on an oversize T-shirt and she followed Kate to the door.
“Thanks for dinner.” Kate paused. “And for everything.”
“The dinner was nothing. But everything was really something.” Rosemary chuckled. “So, lunch on Tuesday?”
Sure,” Kate agreed.
Rosemary reached out and pulled Kate into her arms one last time before she opened the door for Kate to leave. Rosemary waved as Kate backed out of the driveway and headed for home.
There was barely a lighted window to be seen, and Kate wondered why she didn’t just stay at Rosemary’s for the night. It would be so much easier on both of them. To make love and then have to get dressed and go home seemed so sordid somehow. And she was twenty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake. Who gave a damn what she did anyway?
Stifling a yawn, Kate shifted gears as she turned her car out of Rosemary’s street. In actual fact, she frowned. She was worried this whole thing with Rosemary wasn’t just a little dishonorable on her part. Oh, she liked Rosemary, and in the beginning it was a relief in itself to have someone to talk to, to dine with, somewhere to go. But she knew Rosemary deserved more than Kate could give her.
As the lord mayor’s personal secretary Rosemary worked at the city hall, not far from the library, and they’d met when Rosemary came into the library to check on some historical facts for a leaflet her office was producing. It had been pure coincidence really.
Usually Rosemary’s assistant would have come down to see Kate to check the research. He was off work sick, however, so Rosemary had walked down to the library herself. She’d stopped to chat and then returned next day to ask Kate to share lunch at a nearby café. Kate had been pleased to go. It had been a distraction when she had been feeling a little flat with her job.
Kate had applied for and got the position of city librarian three years earlier, not long after she’d returned to Charters Towers when her aunt was taken ill.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job or that she didn’t feel she had made her mark on the position. The library had a much more visible profile now that she had implemented her ideas. They had more displays, encouraged visits from local schools, and held a weekly storytelling session that was well supported.
It was simply that recently she’d felt just a little jaded and unsure of the direction of her future.
Now that her aunt had passed away, she really had no ties with the Towers. Did she want to remain here or move on to a bigger city and a more demanding position? So she’d been pleased to accept the distraction of Rosemary’s invitation.
After that first lunch, Rosemary and Kate fell into the habit of lunching together a couple of times a week at a popular local café that served all natural fare, sandwiches and burgers, quiches and low-fat desserts, and Kate soon began to look forward to her hour break.
However, Kate certainly hadn’t been looking for an affair. It was the furthest thing from her mind. But a couple of weeks later Rosemary had started her gourmet cookery course, and she’d asked Kate if she could try out her newfound skills on Kate. Kate agreed.
The first evening they’d enjoyed Rosemary’s meal and retired to the living room with their coffee. Kate sat on the two-seater lounge chair, expecting Rosemary to sit opposite in a single matching chair. Instead Rosemary had sat down beside Kate and gently removed Kate’s coffee cup from her hand.
Then she’d turned to Kate and kissed her. Kate had stiffened in shock. Until that moment she hadn’t considered the possibility that Rosemary might be a lesbian. Their conversations had been very superficial, restricted to their respective jobs, their fellow staff members.
“Have I shocked you?” Rosemary asked.
“Well… yes,” Kate acknowledged.
“Offended you?” Rosemary continued lightly enough, but Kate could see the flutter of the pulse at the base of her throat.
“No, I’m not offended,” she said, trying to make a decision about where she should allow this to go. She had always kept that part of her life rigidly controlled, especially since her return to the Towers.
Rosemary picked up Kate’s hand and held it lightly in hers. “Have I read you wrongly? Just say so if I have.” Rosemary continued to look down at Kate’s hand. “I don’t want to spoil things between us, Kate, but I thought, well” — she shrugged — “I thought we might be like-minded.”
Kate swallowed quickly. Was she that obvious? Surely not. She was so careful. The only thing she couldn’t bring herself to do was date men. Not that that had been so difficult. Her tall, angular body, almost nonexistent figure, and unexceptional features didn’t exactly have men lining up outside her door.
Rosemary sighed. “Look, Kate. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Can I just ask you to forget this ever happened?”
Kate drew a steadying breath. “You didn’t misconstrue anything, Rosemary,” she said softly. “I’m just a little taken aback. I didn’t think I was that, well, visible.”
“You’re not. Believe me.” Rosemary laughed quickly, obviously relieved. “I’m usually fairly accurate at picking up on it. I’m ten years older than you, so I’ve had a lot of practice. Oh, I didn’t mean that I’d had a lot of partners.” She grimaced. “I’d best stop while I’m ahead, hadn’t I?”
“I think so.” Kate smiled, and they sat looking at each other.
“So, do you find me absolutely repulsive?” Rosemary asked softly, and Kate shook her head, making a decision and leaning closer to kiss the other woman.
From that night six weeks ago, Rosemary had cooked dinner for them each Thursday night and they had eaten lunch together a couple of times a week.
Kate frowned as she drove into her carport beside the house. She suspected Rosemary was more involved in their relationship than she, Kate, was. And Kate knew she had known that for some time. She simply hadn’t wanted to deal with it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to examine her own feelings. Especially now that Ashley was coming home.
And how would that make a difference? she demanded of herself. What Ashley did had no bearing on her life and hadn’t for ten years.
Oh, yes! A small voice inside her jeered her mercilessly. Writing off her feelings for Ashley had been so easy!
Stifling an urge to slam the car door with more force than was necessary, Kate restrained herself in deference to the lateness of the hour and strode purposefully around the house and up the wide front steps. What possible bearing could Ashley’s return have on Kate’s relationship with Rosemary? Ashley was coming home with her husband and, Kate reminded herself, she was definitely not coming home to see Kate. Ashley had made her choice years ago.
On Saturday afternoon Kate felt restless. She’d refused Rosemary’s offer of a weekend away, and now she wished she’d accepted the other woman’s invitation.
She’d used up some of her excess energy cleaning the house far more diligently than she usually did, and now she had to admit that there was nothing left to clean.
When her aunt died two years earlier and Kate had inherited the house, she’d had the bathroom and kitchen remodeled. Then she had repainted the rooms in lighter, far more pleasing colors.
The house was a large old Queenslander, distinctive in that it was built for the tropical climate. Up on stumps with a high-pitched roof it was surrounded by wide, cooling verandas. Inside it had high ceilings, VJ walls, and fretwork over the arched doorways.
Just lately Kate had realized she enjoyed the house’s old-world ambience. And although Kate and her aunt had come to grudgingly enjoy each other’s company, Kate realized she was beginning to like living here on her own. It was only on the occasions when old memories resurfaced that the buried loneliness crept out to taunt her.
Now, with all her chores completed, Kate prowled around the house. Basically she knew what was wrong with her. The tree house was beckoning the way it used to do, and she told herself it was ridiculous to even contemplate going down to the backyard. All that was behind her. It was simply kid stuff and adolescent angst.
But she couldn’t seem to settle to reading, and just after three o’clock she found herself walking down the back steps and moving toward the huge old tamarind tree. She broke off a tamarind and cracked open its pod, sucking on the sweet-sour flesh. An acquired taste, most people agreed, but Kate loved it and still made a drink from the tamarinds just the way her aunt had taught her.
Awkwardly Kate climbed the ladder, found the familiar foot-and handholds, and swung herself up onto the platform. She looked around, trying not to peer over the fence. Of course, it was a little more difficult now to see into the Macleans’ yard as the leafy branches seemed to have grown thicker over the years. There was a silence to the house next door that told Kate the family was not at home, and with this realization some of the tension that had been holding her stiffly left her.
In the weeks after that dreadful confrontation with Ashley’s mother and its aftermath, Kate had dogged the tree house in the hope that Ashley would change her mind. She dreamed they would run away together, go south to Brisbane, get jobs in the city, blend into its anonymity.
But Ashley’s wedding day arrived without Kate so much as seeing the other girl. Kate had sat in the tree house in abject misery that day and counted the minutes. When it became obvious that Ashley wasn’t going to join her, Kate had vowed to leave the town, never to have to set eyes on this special place again.
Of course she had returned when her aunt became ill, and once again this place had been a refuge when she could get a few moments away from caring for her aunt.
Over the years some of the planks had rotted, and Kate had had them replaced, unable to allow the tree house to just decay with age.
She gingerly sat down on the canvas deck chair, testing it with her weight. It rema
ined steady, and she relaxed. She looked around her, feeling the intimacy of the seclusion seep into her. She could almost pretend she was a child again, then a shy adolescent. But there was no Ashley to climb up beside her, laugh with her, share secrets with her. Or make love with her.
Kate felt again the heavy sense of loving and losing and then the pain of betrayal. She sighed. This wasn’t playing by the rules. She’d made a pact with herself not to sit in the tree house and think of Ashley Maclean. She was making new memories. Deliberately she opened the book she’d brought with her. She was almost finished with it, and after a while the silence and the coolness lulled her and she became engrossed in her story.
“Hi!” A happy, child’s voice nearly frightened Kate to death, and she looked down at a shining mass of golden hair and into a pair of familiar clear blue eyes.
chapter three
Kate felt the blood drain from her face. In that split second she was back eighteen years, a shy and uncertain, very lonely ten-year-old.
She blinked, brought the present back into focus, and the world righted itself as she realized this child wasn’t, couldn’t be Ashley Maclean,
The golden hair, plaited the way Ashley sometimes plaited hers, was the same rich color, and so were the vivid blue eyes. But the shape of the mouth, the curve of the chin, were quite different. Yet there could be no mistaking the fact that this had to be Ashley’s daughter, Kate acknowledged, realizing she had to have known this as soon as she saw the child.
By this time the young girl had climbed up onto the platform beside Kate, and she sat down easily on the old wooden packing crate, just the way Ashley used to do.
“You must be Kate, Kate Ballantyne,” she said with a smile.
Kate opened her mouth, but no words came. She was fascinated by the way the child’s eyes crinkled at the corners exactly the way her mother’s did. Kate felt wild panic well up inside her, and she wanted to race back to her house, lock the door.
“My mother told me all about you,” continued the child, oblivious to Kate’s inner chaos.
