by Gerri Hill
She finally took a step away from Erin, away from her touch. “I’m sorry. Again—I obviously don’t know what I want.”
“Mel, you do know what you want.”
“Okay. Yes. But I don’t want to want it.” She smiled slightly. “You were sitting there, all damp from the rain, cooing at Rosie and…and—”
“You wanted to kiss me?”
“Yes, I wanted to kiss you.”
“And so you did. That’s how it should be. There shouldn’t be all these rules and restrictions. We’re two adult women, both single.” She shrugged. “We shouldn’t have to fight this, Mel. Like I said earlier, stop thinking so much.” Erin moved away from her, back to where she’d dropped the bucket of potatoes. “So what do we do with these babies? You have someplace where you store them?”
Melanie stared at her, surprised at her change of subject. But it was good, she supposed. She was thinking too much. She should simply let it go, let things fall where they may. She should stop trying to control things. She should let it be. So, she took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, then offered a smile.
“Through the door there. It’s like a small closet.”
“Why haven’t I noticed this before?”
“I guess because I haven’t asked you to come out and get onions for me. I harvested them last October. I moved what was left of last fall’s potatoes into the house. There’s nothing in there but onions right now and a few carrots that are left from fall.”
Erin opened the door and the pungent smell of onions hit them. Erin grinned.
“Oh, wow. That actually smells really great.”
There were six wire racks on the three big walls, two racks hung on each. A smaller wire rack was next to the door. The room had been a corner of the original shed, but since she didn’t have a cellar, she needed someplace dark and cool to store her veggies after spring and summer harvest. This corner faced north and was shaded by a piñon pine. High windows with screens let in cool air, enough for the vegetables to keep over the hot summer months. The fall harvest even overwintered in here, with her only having to cover the racks on the coldest of nights.
“I put the potatoes on this side,” she said, motioning to the inside wall opposite the onions. “If they’re too close together, the onions will make the potatoes sprout.”
Erin went about unloading the potatoes, placing them carefully on the wire rack. “What else do you keep in here?”
“Carrots go in the wooden crates there. I cover them with dirt. I leave them in the garden as long as I can and pull them when I need them, but there comes a point where they need to come out of the ground or they’ll get woody.”
“Woody?”
She smiled. “It’s a term gardeners use. Once they start sprouting and make seeds, they lose their flavor quickly. So then I pull them all at once, chop the green off and store them in here. I put up—pressure can—maybe ten or twelve pints, though. Winter squash keeps well too. Butternut and acorn squash are the two I normally plant. I’ll harvest them in October. They’ll keep through the winter.”
“So there’s no carrots in the garden now?”
“There’s a row from the late spring planting. I’ll leave those in the ground as long as I can. I’ll plant the fall garden in a couple of weeks—into the first week in August. That’s when I plant broccoli and cauliflower and cabbage—things like that. And I’ll plant another round of kale and spinach.
“Wow. That all makes my head spin.”
“I know. It’s a lot of variety, but I don’t overdo the volume. I’m one person. I can only eat so much.”
Erin stood back, surveying her work. Then she smiled. “We’re going to have some of these for dinner, right?”
“Of course. Pick three or four.”
The sun was shining again when they went back out, and the goats and chickens were already in their run. She and Erin stood in the sunshine, looking at each other. The air was still cool from the rain, the ground damp. It had been a short-lived storm, more noise than rain. She looked to the west, seeing more clouds building. They already looked dark and ominous.
“More rain?”
She nodded. “I should probably check the forecast. We might be in for a stormy night.” She headed toward the cabin, then stopped. “Do you mind bringing Bandito up? He’s probably under the lean-to on the other side of the shed. That’s where he normally takes cover when storms pop up.”
“Gonna put him in tonight?”
“I’ll check the weather first. If it’s a lengthy storm, I usually put him in with the goats. He hates it, but it makes me feel better.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was one of those nights that she dreaded, when the storm settled on top of her, the blackness of night hiding its power. As was her habit, she moved from window to window, looking out into the darkness as the rain pelted the panes. She normally hated these nighttime storms. Hated being alone during them, really. She’d even pulled old Fred inside one night under the guise of giving him shelter when he’d been perfectly content lying on the old blanket on the porch.
But tonight?
She wasn’t alone tonight. Having another person there seemed to settle her nerves a bit. Erin was in the kitchen, peering out the window that looked out toward the shed. She was obviously concerned. She’d gone out twice before the storm hit to make sure the chickens and goats were secure.
“They’ll be fine.”
Erin turned, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. Not their first storm.” Then she smiled. “But it’s mine.”
“Are you scared?”
“A little, yeah. You can’t see a damn thing outside.” A boom of thunder moved Erin away from the window. “Don’t know why I never noticed storms when I was stuck in a high-rise.”
“I’m having a hard time picturing you in an office setting,” she said as she took out two mugs for their tea. “Power suits?”
Erin leaned against the bar and nodded. “Mostly. Before Sarah, I lived in jeans and work boots and spent as much time out at the construction sites as I did the office.”
“Yes. I can see that. Why the change?”
“I guess I didn’t fit the image that Sarah wanted.”
Melanie paused in her task, wondering what Erin’s emotional state had been back then. The woman she knew now, she couldn’t see her giving in to the demands of someone else. At least not on such a personal level as the way she dressed.
“What?”
Melanie placed the tea bags in each cup. “I’m trying to picture someone telling you how to dress and you going along with it. None of my business, of course.”
“The changes that Sarah made—or suggested—were made so subtly, so slight, that I don’t think I really noticed how different I was becoming. Joyce noticed.” Erin shook her head. “I was willing to change, I guess, to make her happy. Keep her happy.”
“That’s funny and sad, isn’t it? People do that all the time, I suppose. Change to be someone they’re not to please someone else. I did it to an extent too.”
“I don’t think you changed for Adam. Not really. You pretended to change. Big difference.”
“Did you think Sarah wouldn’t love you if you stayed the same? I mean, she must have fallen in love with you before the change.”
“I don’t know anymore. Was she ever really in love with me?” Erin stared at her. “Or was she pretending?”
“Are you trying to make comparisons with me and Adam? That was a completely different situation,” she said a bit snappishly. Wasn’t it? The teakettle started whistling, but when she reached for it, Erin beat her to it.
“Sorry. No. I wasn’t making comparisons, Mel.” Erin poured the boiling water into each cup. “As you said, completely different. What I meant was, maybe it was easier to pretend to love me than to live her life. She had a job, but she wasn’t going anywhere there and it didn’t pay all that much. I was selfish and wanted her around more, so I pushed her to quit. I made enough money to support
us.” She put the teakettle back. “I made it easy for her. I gave her everything she wanted.” A flash of lightning again caused her to move away from the window. “She pretended to love me, pretended she was happy…until she couldn’t anymore. Until she met someone who she could honestly love.”
Erin shrugged and Mel noted that her eyes were mostly filled with regret, not sadness. She reached out, touching Erin’s hand. “You can’t say for sure that she never loved you, Erin. You spent six years together. She must have loved you.”
Erin turned her hand over and let their fingers entwine. “I think I knew. I didn’t want it to be true. All those hurtful things she said to me when she was leaving…At first, I thought it was just her anger talking, but really, I think that’s how she truly felt. Joyce had been right all along.” Erin lifted her gaze from their joined hands. “She used me. And I let her. What a pathetic fool I was.”
“Oh, Erin. You weren’t a fool. When you love someone, there’s—”
“There’s no need to offer up some defense for me, Mel. No need. I was stupidly blind. I take the blame.”
“Sweetie…I’m sorry.”
Her arms were around Erin’s shoulders before she knew what she was doing and she pulled Erin to her tightly. It wasn’t lost on her how fiercely Erin clung to her.
“She used me,” Erin whispered hoarsely. “The truth of that hurts more than I thought it would.”
Erin pulled away a little, but neither of them released their hold. Erin was too close, her lips too near. The situation called for a kiss, didn’t it? The jumbled thoughts dancing around in her brain were all clamoring to be heard at once, effectively doing the opposite—she heard none of them. Much as the storm raging outside faded into the background, so did her objections. She no longer knew the reason she’d tried so hard to keep Erin at a distance.
She saw something different in Erin’s eyes this evening. A mixture of things, to be sure. There seemed to be something akin to desperation there, something she’d not been expecting and certainly nothing she’d seen before, not even that very first day. It tugged at her heart now, and she moved the few inches necessary to touch her lips to Erin’s. She felt Erin’s hands clutch at her shirt and she let the kiss deepen, ignoring whatever concerns were still lingering about. Erin didn’t have to say the words. She could feel it in her kiss.
Erin needed her.
Erin needed her like this. Tonight. When her mouth opened, letting Erin inside, the physical rush she got from Erin’s tongue brushing her own told her that she needed this too. The storm outside couldn’t compete with the one now beginning to rage inside. She let her emotions go unchecked, moving even closer to Erin, letting their bodies touch where they may. She could no longer fight this…she no longer wanted to fight this.
Chapter Thirty-Three
She’d led Erin into her bedroom without a word spoken between them. She’d undressed Erin, putting a finger to her lips when she would have spoken. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t even want to think. The fact that they were about to make love, the fact that she was going about it in such a methodical way nearly made her pause, but she pushed the apprehension aside, determined not to let it guide her tonight.
The truth was, she wasn’t sure she even remembered how to make love. That was at the root of her fears more than anything else. Lack of arousal wasn’t an issue this time, but still, eleven years was a long time. What if—
She had no time to wonder, though. Erin’s kiss quashed the doubts that were trying to surface and, with eyes closed, she let her hands drop to Erin’s waist, uttering the softest of moans as Erin’s lips traveled along her throat, her neck, nibbling lightly. She didn’t protest when Erin’s fingers pushed her shirt aside. She knew where the fingers would go, but she gasped anyway when they touched her nipples. She felt them harden under Erin’s touch and another moan slipped out.
She had no thoughts of stopping, no more fears. She’d brought Erin to her bedroom with the intention of making love to her, with the intent to chase away the misery—the despair—she’d seen in her eyes. Yet here she was, her own eyes closed, her chest heaving as she drew quick breaths. Erin was the one chasing away demons, not her.
Erin ducked her head, her tongue replacing her fingertips. Warm breath skipped across her skin, drawing goose bumps in its wake. Her moan was louder now as Erin’s mouth closed around a nipple. In the back of her mind, she knew the storm outside was losing steam, but inside, the storm was just beginning.
* * *
Erin ran her hands lightly across Melanie’s skin, amazed at the softness. How long had it been since she’d touched someone like this? She was amazed, too, at the confident look in Mel’s eyes. She expected her insecurities to show, at the very least. But no, Melanie seemed as self-assured as ever when she’d drawn her down to the bed with her. She was actually the one feeling a bit nervous. And why not? She was about to make love to a woman who had been celibate for eleven years. Of course she was nervous.
Melanie smiled against her lips. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you now?”
“It feels nice…your skin on mine. Everything feels nice.”
Erin leaned up, finding Melanie’s eyes in the shadows, the room lit only by a candle and the residual flashes of lightning outside the window. Yes, those blue eyes did have a bit of wonder in them. Was she thinking back to the last time—all those years ago—that she’d tried to be intimate with someone? Or maybe she was thinking about Courtney, the woman Adam had caught her with. Or was she not thinking about any of that at all?
What about her? The few women she’d been with since Sarah left were nobodies. She hardly recalled names much less faces. Even the last one…Jessica. She had come and gone without much fanfare. Even so, each and every one of them had shared the bed with Sarah too. Sarah was never too far away.
Tonight? No. She could hardly picture Sarah’s face. It was Melanie lying naked with her, Melanie whose legs were wrapped around her own, Melanie whose hands were sliding up her bare back, pulling her down for another kiss.
Whereas she and Sarah had been rather boisterous in bed—rarely taking it slow, rarely taking the time for soft caresses, gentle kisses, or whispered words—things were more measured with Melanie. There was no rush, no hurry. The slow pace seemed to have a calming effect on her as her touch became more sure, more deliberate.
She pulled away from Melanie’s mouth, moving to her breasts again. She covered one nipple and Melanie arched up, her low moan sending chills across her skin. She used her knee to spread her thighs and Mel’s hips rose to meet hers. She could feel her arousal against her leg, and she moved back for another kiss, her tongue wrapping slowly around Mel’s, their quick breaths mingling as they kissed.
She finally left Mel’s mouth, moving lazily down her body, nibbling across her stomach and hips. Melanie’s hands were urging her downward and Erin’s eyes slid closed with a contented moan as she buried herself in Mel’s wetness.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Melanie held her hands out to her side, balancing on one of the large rocks along the previously dry Mule Creek. The storm hadn’t produced enough rain to fill it, but she’d wanted to check.
“Sorry your first real storm had to come with severe weather warnings. Not enough rain to make much of a difference, though.”
“How often are they severe?”
“Flash flood warnings are normal in July and August, during monsoon. Hail can occur with any storm, which is what mostly scares me—the garden, you know. Lightning, of course, but everyone knows to take cover.”
“Tornadoes?”
She shook her head. “Tornadoes are very rare. I think the entire state averages ten a year. That’s not something I ever worry about.”
Erin came up behind her on the rock, grasping her waist. “So this is Mule Creek, huh?”
Melanie turned into Erin’s arms, smiling as they kissed. “Uh-huh. Need more rain to get it flowing good.”
&
nbsp; Erin smiled too. “Have you thanked me for breakfast in bed?”
“Several times.” She hopped over to the next rock. “We could make that a habit, if you like.” She turned, meeting Erin’s gaze.
“The breakfast in bed part or the sleeping in the same bed part?”
“Both.”
A slow smile formed on Erin’s face. A relieved smile. Had she been expecting something else? Had she assumed things would go back to the way they’d been between them? She admitted she’d had a moment of doubt that morning when she’d awakened to find Erin still in her bed, to find herself still tangled in Erin’s arms. But only a moment. The night had been too special to ruin it with doubts and fears.
She’d watched Erin sleep for a good half hour, reliving the night in her mind. She’d been shocked, actually, that Adam’s ghost hadn’t made an appearance. Not even once. She’d expected his presence to be hovering over her while Erin made love to her. That wasn’t the case at all. She’d been able to empty her mind of all the uncertainties, all the fear. It was only she and Erin, no one else. Not Adam. Not the nameless women she’d been unable to feel anything with. She and Erin. Mutually giving and taking what they both needed. She’d been so relieved that Adam wasn’t there, she hadn’t wanted to stop. As she’d whispered to Erin last night, she had a lot of years to make up for.
It occurred to her that it was the first time she’d slept with someone who she would consider a friend. Other than Adam, that is. What she and Courtney shared was never friendship. And while she and Adam were friends—best friends, in fact—there was never any physical heat between them. Adam had to have felt that too.
It also occurred to her that it was the first time she’d been intimate with someone in a relaxed state. When she was a teenager, just coming of age, there was always the fear of getting caught—rushing through the act which such haste, she hardly recalled it afterward. With Adam, she was never relaxed. There was the fear that he’d know that she wasn’t as aroused as she should be, know that she was pretending. And of course, with Courtney, there was nothing at all relaxing about it. She was cheating on Adam, a fact that weighed on her then and still followed her to this day. She cheated on Adam. He caught her. He committed suicide. Her fault. End of story.
