by Lea Santos
Madeira huffed and spread her arms, hoping to convey her “gee, I wonder” feelings that roiled inside like poison. “Iris, have you ever met any of my girlfriends?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know why?”
“Because you’d have had to introduce them and you couldn’t remember any of their names?”
Iris’s playful comment stung because it hit damned close to the truth. It also sounded like a barb Gracie would wing at her. Madeira clenched her jaw against the wave of pain.
“You know I’m just kidding,” Iris added. “Tell me.”
“Kidding or not, you’re on the right track.” Madeira shook her head with self-derision. “I haven’t brought them to the family because I’ve never had a relationship that wasn’t superficial.”
It pained her to say this, but she had to come clean with someone. She knew Iris wouldn’t judge her. Still, Madeira flicked her hand, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I didn’t truly care about those women. Not a single one of them. I had a good time with each and every one, but that’s all they were to me—a good time. You know what that makes me?” Madeira searched Iris’s face in the moonlight. She pounded a fist against her own chest. “It makes me an asshole. I wouldn’t want me, Iris. I’m like candy. Good when you have a craving for sweets, but no substance. Nothing to hold on to. So how can I expect someone like Gracie, who deserves the world, the moon, the stars, to want me?”
Sadness moistened Iris’s eyes. “Oh, honey. Come here.”
Madeira crossed to the love seat and slumped next to Iris, grateful to lean her head on Iris’s shoulder and accept some sisterly nurturing.
“You’re so wrong, Mad. You have a lot to offer, you just weren’t meant to share it until you found the right woman.”
“Is that another way of saying I’m an asshole?”
“How did you get to be so hard on yourself?”
“Try having a perfect sister like Toro. That’s a lot to live up to.”
“You’re not Toro, Madeira. No one expects you to be.”
Madeira pushed out a humorless, listless laugh, lifting her head off Iris’s shoulder to lean against the opposite corner of the sofa. “Hard on myself, you say. Shoot, I’ve been telling myself and the whole world of women that I’m the best invention since the wheel ever since I was old enough to date. Lots of them believed me, too. Hell, I’d even convinced myself. Until I met Gracie.” She crossed one ankle over the other knee and picked at the sole of her boot. “She saw through the crap to the real me. Unworthy.”
“No, Mad. Wrong. This is the real you. My crazy little sis who gets so worked up about a woman, she risks waking her—let’s face it—sometimes grouchy older sister in the middle of the night because she desperately needs a heart-to-heart with someone who understands.” Iris cocked her head to the side. “Those women from your past might have just been good times, but it’s obvious you don’t feel the same about Grace. You may not have cared for the others, but you care for her.”
“Yes. I…I…I—” Madeira didn’t even know the proper words to describe how she felt about Gracie. She’d never felt it before. “You’re right.”
Iris leaned forward and cupped Madeira’s cheek. “You’re not letting her see your true heart, Mad.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re showing her the same face you’ve put forward for those women who didn’t matter. Only this time, you’re using that world-class charm and devastatingly sexy grin to shield your heart, not to win a woman into your bed.” Her chin lowered along with her tone. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying…if you truly care about Grace, put your heart behind your charisma. Take a risk. Be vulnerable.”
Madeira hiked one shoulder, not agreeing, not disagreeing.
Iris smiled sweetly. “Trust me. Show her the woman who’s talking to me tonight. If she sees the real you—all of you, this you, honey—Grace won’t be able to not adore you.”
But suppose I put my heart and soul into Gracie and she stomps them both?
How will I survive then?
Madeira blocked out Iris’s wisdom and her own persistent, unanswerable questions. She couldn’t bear to get her hopes up. She stood, putting distance between herself and Iris while she paced the width of the room. “I don’t understand what’s happening, Iris. Something’s got to be wrong with me. I feel sick and on edge almost all the time now.”
Iris crossed her arms. “Go on.”
Madeira ruminated for a few laps. “Sometimes it seems like I’m holding my breath, breathing shallowly just to stay alive, you know? To exist.” She turned, watching Iris in the lamp light. “And then I see Gracie, and I exhale”—she closed her eyes and blew a long, slow breath through her lips—“and at that moment everything is right again and I feel…home.”
“Ah, yes.” Iris’s eyes glittered.
Relief flowed through Madeira that Iris seemed to understand her convoluted explanation. “You know what I’m trying to say?”
“Of course.” A beat passed, and Iris’s lips spread into a Cheshire cat smile. “It’s the same way I felt from the first moment I saw Torien and every day since.”
Madeira stopped short. She could almost feel all her systems shutting down one by one until there was absolute stillness in her body, utter clarity in her mind.
No lightning struck.
No thunder clapped.
No volcanoes erupted.
No meteors struck the earth.
Yet, at that moment, the gravity of the situation hit Madeira with the force of the most massive natural disaster imaginable. She hadn’t wanted it, didn’t know how it had happened. But, Jesus, nothing had ever been more obvious to her than this thought, at this split second, of her life.
Madeira didn’t simply want to date Gracie Obregon.
She’d somehow managed to fall in love with her.
Love.
Madeira Pacias, la ladróna de corazones…in love. Surreal…but true. Truer than anything she’d ever known.
A surge of determination straightened her shoulders. If it took backing off to make Gracie understand how she felt, Madeira would damn well grit her teeth and do it. Well…after the safety assembly at Gracie’s school. And after DoDo’s dinner. Not to mention the Charity Singles Auction, which wasn’t for another six weeks, but still.
Aw, hell. So much for simple solutions.
Madeira smoothed her palm slowly down her face. How could she back off, give Gracie space, if situations kept forcing them together? Madeira would never blow off the commitments she’d made, but at the same time, those commitments would prevent her from following Iris’s advice. Or would they? Perhaps this necessary distance was more than merely physical. Removing herself from the situation emotionally might be enough.
Could she do it?
Could she see Gracie and not touch her?
Could she mask her feelings so as to draw Gracie closer rather than send her skittering away? She gave a derisive laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Iris asked.
“Look at me.” She spread her arms, feeling nothing but self-scorn. “La ladróna de corazones, unable to steal the only heart she’s ever really wanted.”
Iris joined her in laughter. “It is pretty ironic, sweetie.”
But as they laughed, a thought stole into her brain like a cat burglar…quickly, quietly, unexpected. The best thieves were silent and unobtrusive, no? Something she’d never been before. Something she’d never believed she could be, had never wanted to be. Perhaps it was past time she gave it a try.
Difficult, yes, but Gracie was worth it.
*
Grace had been distracted all day by the impending accident prevention assembly and by the thought of seeing Madeira. Last time she’d seen her, they shared an almost-but-not-quite kiss, the memory of which she could almost-but-not-quite evict from her brain for a few moments at a time. But after learning Madeira had spared no time beating feet to the club the night following the not-quite-k
iss, Grace had set up a hasty dinner date with Layton Fair, the art teacher at her school and the most attractive single woman in her current circle of acquaintances.
Dinner with Layton. Tomorrow night.
In her mid-thirties, studious Layton was conservative, soft-spoken, approachable, and good-looking in a nondescript kind of way. She’d been surprised and pleased by Grace’s invitation, but Grace had had to convince her that she and Madeira weren’t a couple before Layton finally agreed. She had a monogamist’s conscience—just the kind of woman Grace needed.
Madeira, on the other hand, was Layton’s polar opposite—flamboyant, gregarious, untouchable, and way too damn sexy for her own good. Honorable, for sure, but with an agenda behind her manners. Tomorrow night at dinner, Grace was sure she’d have Layton’s undivided attention, and there wouldn’t be random women flinging themselves at her every time Grace turned away. She couldn’t honestly say she felt that physical pull to Layton, but that wasn’t what mattered in a relationship…was it?
Still, it almost felt as if she was cheating on Madeira—pure insanity—and every time she remembered she’d be seeing Madeira soon, she lost a few more minutes of her life to stress. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. She needed to wean herself from this senseless crush she had on Madeira by spending time with more suitable women, and Layton was a primo candidate. No sense dragging her feet.
A quick glance at the clock told her D-day had arrived, and her pulse revved. She looked around at the children, who’d been reading so quietly for the past twenty minutes she’d almost forgotten they were there.
Standing, she nonchalantly stretched out her stiff leg. “Okay, kiddos. Books in your desks, hands on top, faces front, mouths closed so we can head down to the auditorium.”
After a flurry of supercharged activity and high-pitched chatter, twenty-two faces of various colors and shapes grinned dutifully at her from behind their numbered desks. Teeth, she noticed, were optional. She experienced a moment of true affection for her students and smiled back.
“Okay, when I say go, I want you to line up by the door, numbers twenty-two to one.” She held up her hand to tick off the rules on her fingers. “No running. No poking. No antagonizing. No talking. No pushing. No complaining. No gross noises. Is everyone clear?”
“Yes, Ms. Obregon,” they chimed together. But unless she was mistaken, one of the students in her class had undergone a very rapid maturity cycle. Her gaze shot to the door and her stomach dropped to the industrial flooring below her feet.
“Madeira.” She white-knuckled the edge of her desk. How could she dread seeing Madeira for two solid days, but when they actually came face-to-face, she felt lighter and happier than she had in…well, since the last time she’d seen her? She had really turned into such a total flake since Madeira had reentered her life.
The children strained and scrambled to see the visitor, and little Sean Santiago, the spitting image of his tattoo-exposing brother Steven, bolted from his desk to greet the uniformed medic that no one had expected in the classroom. And, damn, did Madeira look sexy in her uniform, or what? Excited prattle spewed a mile a minute from Sean’s little mouth, and Madeira had bent forward to try and catch it all. The other kids remained in their seats, but a bouncing, manic, blabber-wrought kind of pandemonium ensued.
After recovering from the shock of seeing Madeira standing in her doorway, so brashly female and strong and utterly sexy, Grace raised her hand—the quiet signal. Most of the kids glanced forward; third graders in general were still eager to please authority figures. She did her best not to raise her voice, because experience had taught her quickly, the louder she got, the louder they got. “I need appropriate behavior before we can go, kids. Feet together, hands on your desks, eyes forward, please, looking at me.”
As the class settled, she made her way toward Madeira and Sean, catching the tail end of a very one-sided conversation. Sean finished one tale, sucked a quick, deep breath, and said, “And then this one other time, me and my brother—”
“Hey, little Mr. Santiago.” She jostled his spiny shoulder, and Sean peered up at her. “Back to your desk, buddy.”
Sean pointed toward Madeira, excitement putting sparkles in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Did ya see, Ms. Obregon? She’s a cop!”
“Not a police officer, chavalito. I’m an EMT. I help sick people.”
“Cool,” Sean exclaimed. “I get sick sometimes. So does my brother and my sister, too. Once I even throwed up on my brother at dinner. And this one time—”
“To your desk, Sean,” Grace interjected, in a soft, firm voice, “or we’ll miss the assembly.”
“Aw, man!” Sean slumped off, but not before Madeira had chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. She straightened up, and her eyes met Grace’s.
So much for breathing. “Hey.” Grace crossed her arms. “You sure know how to rattle some cages. I couldn’t have worked these kids up any more if I’d released a truckload of freaked-out chickens in the room.” Grace smiled at Madeira’s playful look of dread.
“Do you know it took me six months before I could eat chicken again?” Madeira said in a confidential tone.
Grace laughed softly and made a “yuck” face, sticking out her tongue. “I still don’t eat it.”
One corner of Madeira’s mouth lifted. “Anyway, sorry about the class. I forgot how easy they are to agitate.”
“Speaking of that.” Grace touched Madeira’s arm to stop her for a moment and turned back to look at her kids, who waited obediently for their next instruction. “Okay, same rules about lining up by the door. Quickly but quietly, please.”
The kids began to file into a long queue, and she turned back to Madeira, lowering her voice. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the auditorium preparing?”
“We got here early. We’re all set up.” She reached up and wrapped her hands around both ends of the stethoscope that hung around her neck. “I actually wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, if that’s possible.”
Grace consulted the wall clock. “Not much time. Hang on.” She stepped around her and opened the door to her classroom. Peering out, she caught the eye of Eula Washington, the teacher in the adjacent room. Eula taught the Special Ed students, and her class was considerably smaller. “Eula.”
“Hey, Grace.”
“Would you mind walking my kids down with yours? One of our speakers needs to, ah, discuss something with me for a moment.”
Eula gave a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you go, girl. I bet I know which one needs you, too.”
Ugh. They all thought she and Madeira were an item.
Grace offered the other woman a rather sick smile, choosing not to comment on the innuendo. “Thanks. I owe you.” Turning back, she addressed her kids. “Mrs. Washington is going to walk you down to the assembly, and I expect she’ll tell me you were the most perfect kids in the whole school. Right?”
They nodded, amongst giggles and bounces.
“If not”—Grace pointed toward the restrictions list she kept in a neatly-written DO NOT box on her white board—“we all know what happens, right?”
“No fun privileges,” Sean Santiago said.
She nodded. “That’s right. Okay, out you go.” They filed past like a little train, each child studying Madeira unabashedly. After Mona Clay, the little girl who occupied desk number one, exited, the door swung shut. Grace released a breath.
“You’re really good with them,” Madeira said.
The compliment warmed her. “Thank you. I love children. They’re tiring, though.”
“I bet you’re a great teacher.”
“I try. I’m still feeling my way a bit since I’m a greenhorn.” Grace offered a wry smile. “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, but I chose to trash a few years of my adulthood with self-destructive behavior and dead-end jobs before college.”
Madeira laughed. “Yeah, well. I’m sure you’ll be a better teacher for the life knowledge and street smarts.”
She’d never thought of it that way, but the kind words made her brim with confidence.
“Kids are cool,” Madeira said. “I can’t wait until Torien and Iris start providing me with some nieces and nephews to corrupt.”
“They want them?”
“Yep.”
“That’s awesome for them.” God, Madeira looked edible in her navy blue uniform pants and fitted white shirt. The short sleeves hugged her muscular biceps in a way that made Grace want to trace her fingers over the ridges. And that accent…Grace could listen to Madeira talk for hours.
Years…forever.
Grace scurried to refocus. “How long have they been together?”
“Long enough to get busy and figure out the insemination part.”
They both laughed, and Grace wished Eula had been right and Madeira had come by early to sweep her into her arms and kiss the breath from her lungs. She licked her lips, and her gaze dropped to Madeira’s mouth. Suddenly self-conscious, she crossed her arms, realizing, yeah, she could talk to Madeira all day, but the entire school awaited the infamous hero’s arrival. “So, what’s up?”
Madeira paused for a moment, then blew out a regretful breath. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted in your kitchen last Tuesday, Gracie. I had no right to ask about Niki, or to grab you…”
An apology? And here Grace had hoped for a repeat, flighty wench that she was. So much for Madeira kissing her breathless. “Oh. Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. You’ve made it very clear that you only want to be friends, and I mean to start respecting that.”
Ah, Madeira must’ve met someone at the bar, Grace thought acidly, then immediately checked herself. Niki’s admonition rang in her head. She had no right to scrutinize Madeira’s choices unless she put her own life under the same microscope. She knew it was true, and inside, she softened. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”
“You do?” Madeira stood a bit straighter.
“Of course.” She thrust out her hand. “You and I are a lot alike, Maddee. Something I may not have admitted even a few days ago. But being friends is a good compromise. Who makes a better friend than someone who really gets you?” Who makes a better lover than someone who really gets you? Grace shoved the traitorous thought away.
