by Liz Bradbury
Epilogue
Generally:
Over the next few months things at Irwin College slowly got back into a regular rhythm.
Connie Robinson got a raise. Miranda Juarez was rid of Shel. Nancy dumped Bart Edgar who continued to work for the College. There was a memorial service for Skylar Carvelle.
Georgia Smith finally came home from the hospital with a renewed commitment to her husband Adam, which everyone hoped would last. Rowlina Roth divorced Holtzmann and managed to convince the INS she’d been duped by him. She continued to stay in the closet, however, which fueled her need to smoke like a chimney.
Jay Getty mourned Carl. His organization, Rainbow Youth Symphony, inherited all of Carl’s worldly possessions despite Carl’s sibling’s efforts to contest Carl’s will. This turned out to be quite a boon for Jay Getty and his youth group, because among Carl’s possessions were the rights to Carl’s creative work. Jimmy Harmon compiled, arranged, and marketed Carl’s compositions and songs, creating some excellent works that were recorded by everybody from JLo to Elton. The royalties poured in.
Jay Getty asked Kathryn to help him set up and administer the Carl Rasmus Trust, which used the royalties to help young musicians. The trust also had a special program to award music scholarships at Irwin for blind kids and gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender kids. Carl’s music will live on, not only for its quality and beauty, but also for the good it will do.
Leo Getty had two small heart attacks, and then just before his trial, a big one that took his life. I was glad Kathryn didn’t have to testify, but sorry that Leo’s rampant homophobia wasn’t publicly exposed for the death and destruction it created. I think what actually killed Leo was the realization that he couldn’t find a lawyer who agreed that his revenge against gays was justified.
Shel Druckenmacher pled guilty to Daria’s murder and went state’s evidence against some drug connections to beat the death penalty. He got 45 years, minimum. Miranda Juarez didn’t attend his trial.
Mickey Murphy was freed, but Sara and Emma still worried about him until Cora Martin offered to let Mickey rent a bedroom in her house.
“I’m tired of being alone,” she’d said, “and now I’ll have someone to change the light bulbs.”
Mickey calls Cora, Cora... which we all thought was a good sign.
Personally:
My stepmother Juana came and stayed at Rosa’s for the holidays and joined us all at Farrel and Jessie’s on Christmas morning. She loved Kathryn and so did Rosa. That was a great Christmas present for me. Sara, Emma, Judith, Rosa, Rosa’s boyfriend Michael, and Doug were there too. Amanda Knightbridge also joined us.
“It seemed obvious to invite her,” Jessie had said.
Cora took Mickey with her to visit her son in LA. By then Emma had lost interest in Ingrid but had met another very attractive woman whom she calls Meryl.
There were masses of presents. Among the exchanges:
Sara gave Kathryn a sexy bathrobe, “For times when you really should throw something on,” she winked. Everyone laughed.
Kathryn countered immediately by presenting Sara with a pair of tiny, high powered binoculars, “For when peeking just isn’t enough!” Kathryn explained. That also got a big laugh.
Farrel and Jessie gave Kathryn a UHAUL gift card.
I gave Farrel and Jessie a set of guest towels... for the hot tub.
With a completely straight face, Farrel gave me a quart of massage oil. Kathryn snorted, then eyed me with that look.
I blurted out, “I didn’t tell her!” Then I turned suspiciously to Sara who admitted she’d seen an empty bottle by the side of the bed.
“Obviously I was correct in my deduction,” said Sara smugly shaking her head. “You two have the worst poker faces I’ve ever seen! I’d tear you apart on the stand.”
I gave Kathryn half a dozen pairs of cashmere socks and the tiny gold pin I got for being on the safety patrol in sixth grade. It was the closest I had to a sorority pin.
Kathryn gave me her senior class pin from Smith. Her father had Fed Exed it from Maine.
Judith leaned to Farrel and explained, “Smith College does not have sororities. It’s one of the reasons I went there. A senior student traditionally gives her pin to a junior upon graduation, and then the junior sends it back to her when she graduates, usually with a small gift.”
I whispered to Kathryn that she’d have to tell me all about the young women she gave her pin to some time. Kathryn just winked at me, then gave me a wonderful traveling watercolor set and an extraordinary book of vintage erotic Japanese prints which Sara had some choice things to say about.
*********
Later on Christmas Day, while Kathryn and I were walking back to the loft, I thought about all the complicated arrangements I’d made with Max Bouchet to deliver Kathryn’s holiday gift from him.
Bouchet had felt extremely guilty that it had been his plan to make Kathryn survey faculty grants and credentials at Irwin. Kathryn had been pushed right into the lion’s den without even knowing it and Leo had almost killed her. I used Max’s guilt to pressure him into setting up a very nice present for Kathryn. I figured it should be in the middle of the loft right now.
As we walked along in the cold December night, I thought about what I wanted to say to Kathryn. Should I talk to her tonight? How would she react? I was getting very nervous.
As we went up the stairs I said, “Max is supposed to have delivered a little present for you. It should to be in the loft at this very moment. It’s a surprise.”
“Really, what is it?”
“A surprise,” I laughed. “You’ll see in a minute.”
“Oh goodness, it’s not a dog is it? Or something like that?”
“Well,” I said as I opened the door, “it does have four legs, or maybe three.”
In the middle of the big room, was a black Steinway baby grand piano. It was even set up with the lid propped open for dramatic effect. One of the track lights was focused right on it. It looked spectacular.”
“This is for me?” said Kathryn circling around it, eyes twinkling.
“Here’s a card,” I said picking it up from the bench.
She read out loud, “Dearest Kathryn, Here is a token of my profound esteem. Fondly, Max.”
She ran her fingers over the keys, then sat down on the bench.
“Show off for me,” I gently demanded, sitting down at the dining table, ready to watch her play.
“I haven’t played in a while,” she said stretching her fingers in a professional way. She played a couple of chords, then began a movement of Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” She played flawlessly. When she was done with that, she changed the mood completely by playing “Maple Leaf Rag,” by Scott Joplin, slowly, the way it was meant to be played. It was totally different from the Gershwin, but just as enchanting.
At the end of that piece, she turned to me. “Any requests?”
“Sing something to me...”
She thought for a moment, looking into space, then played and sang “Someone to Watch Over Me.” She sounded wonderful. When she finished she looked at me again.
“One more?” I asked.
“One more... hmmm,” She began a slow torchy swing version of Save the Last Dance For Me. The unhurried rhythm was achingly sensuous.
When she got to the last line, she got up from the piano and came over to me with her hand extended. She danced me around the floor singing the last verse of the song in her most seductive voice...
“You can dance, go and carry on
Till the night is gone
and it’s time to go
If she asks
if you’re all alone,
Can she take you home?
You must tell her no.
Oh don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
So, darlin’, save the last dance for me.”
Kathryn had filled the room with romance. I’d wondere
d whether she could dance, and she could, even while she was singing. We did some fancy turns and spins and laughed in delight that we fit together so well on the dance floor. She ended the song with an ardent kiss.
This is too good to be true, flitted through my head, but then I remembered my plan.
“Come over here,” I said leading her by the hand to the couch. She sat down next to me and grew silent when she saw the earnest look on my face. I was trying to decide how to start.
“Is this going to be something bad?” she whispered.
“I hope not.”
She took my hand and stroked my palm.
I looked into her eyes. I said, “Kathryn, one of my greatest fears over the last couple of days has been... that you were going to tell me they’d fixed the laundry room at the Hampshire and you were going home. I know this is all going very fast, but... I don’t want you to go...” I looked away, “so, I have three proposals for you.”
“Proposals,” she repeated without inflection.
“Yeah. I’d like you to stay here and give up your place at the Hampshire. So that’s the first one.” I glanced back at her. She still held my hand. She nodded slightly. I wasn’t sure if she was saying yes, or just encouraging me to go on. So I went on.
“For the second one,” I reached in my pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I got this from Max Bouchet yesterday. It’s a bonus for the case. I feel half of it belongs to you. I couldn’t have figured it out without you, not to mention your quick thinking with the bronze...” I drew the check out of the envelope and showed it to her. “Read it,” I said holding it in the light.
“Maggie!” she exclaimed softly at the amount.
“I propose that we spend this money on converting the northeast corner of the top floor into your own space.”
“You mean like an apartment?”
“No!” I snorted, “no way. You still have to sleep with me!... I mean, like an office. Your own office. One that doesn’t go down to fifty degrees on the weekends. Any kind of space you want.”
“Could I have my own bathroom?”
“Sure,” I said smirking. “That’s the first thing you thought of?”
“Well, the first thing I thought of was having a hot tub on the deck.”
“We can have that too.”
“I have money of my own. I don’t have to use your money.”
“Kathryn, this check is not even my fee. It’s like found money. If you want to use some of your own money, you can buy a nice desk or something.”
She still held my hand. Finally she said, “So, what’s the third proposal?”
“Well... I thought we might want to find out if we can really manage being in close quarters for an extended period, so I’m proposing we go away to someplace warm together for a few weeks.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Farrel and Jessie’s Florida beach house. It’s nice there. They won’t be using it. We could stay as long as we want...”
She seemed amenable but she hadn’t really said yes, which was making me nervous.
I added, “We don’t have to fly. It’s not really a bad drive. We can take the van. We could walk on the beach, and relax, and make love, and plan your office, talk, read books, eat fresh shrimp at ocean-side cafes, and... um...”
She was just looking at me, not moving or saying anything. Finally I said, “I’ll give you a massage every day?”
She broke into laughter.
“OK?” I asked.
Kathryn looked into my eyes and recited:
“Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a "Diver" —
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.
Her heart is fit for home —
I — a Sparrow — build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Poems:
A Winter Ride
By Amy Lowell
It Sifts From Leaden Sieves...
By Emily Dickinson
Meeting By Accident...
By Emily Dickinson
Wild Nights...
By Emily Dickinson
Her Breast Is Fit For...
By Emily Dickinson
These poems were each written and published before 1923 and thus are in the public domain under US copyright law. The author is grateful for their existence and for the wonderful poets who wrote them.
Song:
SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME
Words by DOC POMUS
Music by MORT SHUMAN
© 1960 (Renewed) by UNICHAPPELL MUSIC INC.
All Rights Reserved
Used by Permission of ALFRED PUBLISHING CO., INC.
~~~~~~~~~~
About the Author
Besides her work as an author of fiction, Liz Bradbury has written and had published over 300 nonfiction articles and essays on gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender issues. She has regular columns in several GLBT publications and web sites including the Valley Gay Press, PA Diversity Network’s web site: www.padiversity.org, Panzee Press and Gaydar Magazine. She speaks frequently on GLBT rights. She lives in Allentown, Pennsylvania and Amelia Island, Florida with her partner Patricia Sullivan.
She is currently at work on her next Maggie Gale Mystery, Being the Steel Drummer.
Check Liz Bradbury’s web site at www.lizbradbury.boudicapublishing.com or www.boudicapublishing.com for details.
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Table of Contents
Angel Food and Devil Dogs - A Maggie Gale Mystery
