The Crime of Protection

by Gloria Martin

  “I love it when you get all worked up over literature,” she said standing and turning her head to come in for a kiss. Estelle could tell by the way Clara’s hands found their way to rest on her hips and her lips parted just slightly that Clara was rather worked up herself. Estelle smiled and deepened the kiss, holding Clara’s face in her hands with a gentle firmness. It was when Clara began walking her back to be pinned against the wall and she brushed by the Gibson Creek accounts filing cabinet that she remembered.

  “Wait,” Estelle said, breaking the kiss and looking earnestly into Clara’s curious eyes. “We need to have a Gibson Creek talk really quick.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Clara smirked through her exasperation. “Estelle Creek, mistress of romance.”

  “Ha. Ha,” Estelle untangled herself from Clara’s embrace and sat back at the computer. “No, this is important. I don’t want to forget.” She pulled up the spreadsheet that she used to keep track of overall customer satisfaction. Clara leaned over her to get a look.

  “Do you see the problem,” Estelle asked.

  “Yeah, I’m looking at a freakishly organized spreadsheet instead of making out with my girlfriend.”

  “Seriously, Clara. Look here,” Estelle pointed to January’s column. “At the beginning of the year we were at nine point five in positive feedback. And now,” she shifted her finger over to June. “We’re at eight point nine.”

  “Okay?”

  “Hon, we’ve kept a consistent nine point seven to nine point four since we’ve been open. Aren’t you a little concerned that we’ve dropped so much in six months?”

  “No. Not really. I think we’re doing fine. We just have more customers, so it’s an adjustment period, right?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. What if we hired someone else? I ran the numbers last night and again this morning,” Estelle swiveled in her office chair to grab a file on her desk. Opening it, she let Clara see all of the colored graphs and equations that Clara guessed were supposed to tell her hiring an extra hand was a fantastic idea.

  “It would be nice to have someone else to shovel the barn every now and then…”

  “We could expand. Take on more customers, hire even more people…be able to take a vacation every now and then,” Estelle’s eyes shined, but Clara felt troubled.

  “I like our client base as it is! It’s enough to support us and I still get to have a hand in everything we do. Why do we have to try and expand into a big thing?”

  “It just makes sense. Whether you like it or not we are growing. Another person is going to come in handy, babe.”

  Clara stared at the budget sheet for a while longer, biting at her lip and getting lost in thought. It felt strange – she should be ecstatic that her little dream was blossoming into something bigger than she had ever thought possible. But, what she really felt was dread. Would her life become spreadsheets and budgets? Would her studio slowly become a sad imitation of Estelle’s office – piles of paper and old coffee stained mugs littering every surface?

  “Hey,” Estelle said gently pulling her back to reality, “This is still your business. You’re all over it – that isn’t going to change. We’re just taking a small step forward.” Estelle took her hand and squeezed it.

  Clara nodded. “You’re right. We’ll write up an ad tonight. It’ll be a new adventure.” Again, Clara leaned in and placed her chapped lips over Estelle’s full and soft ones. This time the mistress of romance provided no interruptions.

  *****

  Tobin James was used to situations like this. First there was the look of utter shock as he revealed his deepest secret to the potential love of his life. Usually, this slack-jawed, twitchy-eyed gaze was augmented with substandard sputtering of…well, not words. More just noises – squeaks, grunts. That phase could last forever. Thankfully long enough for Tobin to take note of all of the exits.

  Next came the rather brief period of laughing disbelief, but that was always ended by his presentation of proof. This generally would lead briskly to the final stage where Tobin currently found himself with the young Miss Jesse Banks – terrified anger.

  “Leave. I need you to leave,” her eyes were wide and glistening, but her clenched jaw and splotching skin tone expressed her mounting anger.

  Tobin pulled his shirt back over his well-defined build, trying to come up with something to make it all go away. He had sincerely thought Jesse would be different.

  “Jesse, please. Please, just listen to me. I love –”

  “GO,” Jesse screamed. She had gotten to the hysterical phase surprisingly fast, Tobin noted with a flinch. “Get out of my apartment you fucking freak.”

  “I’m still me,” Tobin yelled back. “I’m still Tobin!”

  Jesse’s face softened so subtly that is was almost undetectable. Tobin began to hope that this time would finally be different. Maybe this time his vulnerability would pay off. The longer Jesse stayed silent and calm, the more vivid visions of his life with someone who loved him – all of him – became.

  Tobin dared to put on his best reassuring smile. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Jesse. You add so much color to my world and I know it’s only been a month, but I think we could really have something special here.” Tobin ran a hand threw his curly auburn hair before letting out a chuckle. “I…uh…I think you could be the one.”

  Jesse nodded in a grimly resigned way. Not what Tobin had been expecting, but he tried to go with it.

  “What does that mean,” Tobin asked mirroring her head nodding. “You’re agreeing, but don’t look happy about it. There’s mixed messages here.”

  “Tobin,” she had no tone in her voice, but at least she was looking at him. “Just go. I need normal in my life and that’s never going to be you. Please. I’m sorry, but go.”

  The words didn’t sting as much as he would have thought they would. The disturbing thought that he was just getting used to the rejection flashed in his mind.

  “Sure, don’t worry about it.”

  He gathered his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Looking into Jesse’s almond-shaped hazel eyes one last time, Tobin felt almost relieved that this hadn’t gone well. He felt a bittersweet contentment at going back to the lonely life he knew and understood.

  “You’ve been much nicer than most people, Jesse,” he said as he opened the front door to the city street and beyond. “I really do appreciate that.” He tried again to muster up a reassuring smile as the door clicked shut. Tobin was not sure if it was more for Jesse or himself.

  ***

  A short time later, Tobin found himself sitting on a stool in a diner, sipping at coffee as he pondered what was next. Over his short twenty-six years, Tobin had been to almost every state and a couple of countries. Something about Alaska gave his heart a sense of calm. Maybe it was the crystal lakes or wide open fields...maybe the lack of people to judge him and make life complicated. It didn’t take long to decide; he was definitely going to stay in the state for as long as he could.

  Beside Tobin, a large man with a walrus mustache and a stomach almost as wide as he was tall, stood and threw some cash onto the bar by his finished meal. Tobin took note of the newspaper the man had been reading.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Tobin started. The man looked at him kindly in acknowledgement. “Does that paper have any job listings in it?”

  “Sure does, fella,” he replied, mustache twitching as he spoke. “Need it?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” Tobin took the paper with a nod.

  Opening the paper, Tobin began flipping until he came to the classified page. It was filled for requests for farmhands and fishermen. Overwhelmed and yet, not too concerned with where he ended up, Tobin closed his eyes and waved his finger over the paper until it came to a rest over one of the ads.

  Needed: Help With Growing Business

  Gibson Creek Wares in Clipping, Alaska is a fast growing business looking for another set of hands for farm maintenance, warehouse mainten
ance, basic construction, and possibly some travel.

  Pay is negotiable, please set up interview at 555-8958 with Clara Gibson or Estelle Creek.

  It sounded good enough to Tobin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ancient flip-phone he had recently purchased. After entering the number provided, Tobin held the phone to his ear and waited. Ring after ring echoed from the other line as he drummed his fingers on the diner’s faux marble bar top.

  A bright, “Hello,” came over the line.

  “Oh, hi - I’m Tobin. I saw your ad for the farm job. Any chance that’s still open?”

  “Yes! It definitely is. I’m Clara - thank you so much for calling.”

  Clara’s voice was upbeat and musical - she sounded cute to Tobin. The image of the owner of that cute voice hosing down after a long day in the fields made him stir in his stomach. Tobin shook the thought from his head with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Jesse had broken up with him not even two hours prior and already he was on alert for a new fling.

  “Hello,” Clara said into the phone, bringing him back to reality.

  “Ah, sorry - um, could I possibly schedule an interview?”

  “Sure - do you have any experience working on a farm?”

  “Oh, yes! Tons. I’ve done a little bit of everything.”

  “Great, think you could be here by four this afternoon to talk to us?”

  “Uh…,” Tobin had no real idea of how far Palmer was from Clipping. “Possibly? How far is Palmer from Clipping?” Clara paused for a moment. When she spoke again she sounded a little unsure as to whether or not this interview was a good idea.

  “It’s about two hours...can you make that?”

  Tobin looked at the clown clock on the diner wall. It was only twelve. He could probably hop on a bus and be there in no time.

  “Of course,” Tobin said with his most confident voice.

  *****

  It was four forty-five and still no sign of Tobin. As Clara swung the hoe into the ground for what had to be the hundredth time that day, she wondered why finding a reliable hand was so difficult.

  She and Estelle had held nearly a dozen interviews since the ad had appeared in the paper over two weeks ago. Between inexperienced trust fund college kids, ridiculous salary expectations and one particularly creepy elderly man that had gaped non-stop at Estelle’s feet, the was proving to be fruitless.

  “Maybe we should just wait awhile,” she had suggested to Estelle as they soaked in the bath after the creepy elderly man incident.

  “We can’t,” Estelle had replied as she massaged Clara’s hands tenderly. “We’re already behind on twelve orders.”

  “Let’s just steal one of the neighbors’ kids and have them work by night. No one would know.” Clara felt Estelle’s chest flutter from laughter. “I’m not joking,” Clara had added as she craned her neck to look back at a still laughing Estelle.

  Estelle tilted her head to meet Clara’s lips with her own for a short kiss. As they parted, Estelle kissed the tip of grinning Clara’s nose. “I love you,” she had said.

  “Ditto, sugar tits,” Clara replied kissing her again. As the kiss became more involved, Estelle had gently run her nails up and down Clara’s body. She started just above Clara’s hips, taking her time to do a few circles around the bone before making the trek up her stomach, past her breasts and back down again. Clara’s deep sigh must have encouraged Estelle to travel further down. Clara let out a soft moan as Estelle’s long, elegant fingers found their destination.

  The bleating of a nearby goat snapped Clara out of her thoughts. She became aware that she had stopped her work and was just staring at the ground. She was happy no one was around to see this odd behavior or her flushed face. That had been a week ago and the last time she and Estelle had been intimate.

  The next morning, Red Horse had called and informed Estelle the young adult LGBT+ novel she had been pushing just wasn’t going to make the cut. There had been a lot of stomping around and cursing on Estelle’s part. As was her habit in stressful situations, there was also a certain amount of coldness towards Clara as well. Attempts at conversation had been met with grunts or just a few, short words.

  At the beginning of their relationship Clara had taken this behavior to heart, but over time she realized this was just how Estelle dealt with disappointment. Usually the sulking would only last a day or two, ending with Estelle showering Clara in affection and apologies. This time was different, though. Estelle was taking much longer than usual to rebound. It was making Clara nervous that the differing levels of success they were experiencing had something to do with the situation.

  Clara raised the hoe in the air, positioning it to strike down into the soil once more. In one, graceful motion, she swung down only to be jolted by the blade striking something hard.

  “Damn,” she muttered. Pushing away some dirt she found a large stone had been the culprit. Tossing it to the side, she had the grim thought of how much she wanted to be strong for Estelle and how telling it was of their problems that Clara wasn’t allowed to be. At that moment there was jaunty honk of a horn that made Clara look up, startled.

  Mike Tillis, a fellow farmer in the area, was waving his cap out of his rusted red truck’s window with his usual jolly demeanor. Clara had often joked with Estelle that Mike was probably Santa Claus in disguise. His perpetually flushed face contrasted sharply with his bushy white beard and contagious, joyful laughter. He had been one of the only people in the Clipping community to welcome Clara and Estelle when they first arrived.

  Clara felt a surge of relief - anytime Mike was around it was hard to be sad. Taking off her own cap, Clara waved warmly back at the man and took note of the other man in the truck who only gave a nod.

  She noted how young the man was. His strong jaw line seemed tense and his eyes looked as if they were glued to the dashboard in front of him. Clara got a hunch this was the four o’clock interview she had been waiting on.

  Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Clara began to cross the garden, hoe slung over her shoulder and a relaxed grin on her face. As she passed the open window to Estelle’s office, Clara rested the hoe against the house and called out to her girlfriend that their interviewee had arrived.

  “I see,” Estelle yelled through the window. “Just bring him to the living room. I’ll pour some drinks.”

  “Sounds good.” Clara continued to the front of the house where the man and Mike were already out of the truck and walking to meet her.

  “I found something of yours here, Clara,” Mike boomed, giving the man a playful pat on the shoulder. A ghost of a smile crossed his handsome face.

  “I’m so sorry, miss,” he started, finally looking at her with the sincerest hazel eyes. To her surprise, Clara felt her heart skip a beat. She decided that she would ignore the feeling and extended her hand out to him.

  “It's nice to see you, Tobin,” she said. “What happened?”

  His handshake was firm, and their calloused hands matched almost perfectly as his large, tanned hand engulfed hers.

  “I just didn’t think the bus would have taken this long,” Tobin held up a beat up old flip phone as he spoke, “And this thing died on me, so I couldn’t call. Can I still interview?”

  “Yes, of course! Estelle is inside preparing,” Clara turned to Mike with a gracious nod. “Thanks for getting him up here, Mike.”

  “Oh, no problem, sweetie. He seems like an alright kid - you girls take it easy on him,” Mike tipped his hat to her and turned to Tobin. “You be good now, you hear son? Don’t be a stranger. I live just down the road.”

  “Will do, Mike,” Tobin said with a respectful grin that made his eyes sparkle. The two men shook hands. Clara noticed the way Tobin’s forearm muscles flexed and became very well defined.

  As Mike made his way back to his car, Tobin gave Clara a “what next” look.

  “Come on inside and we’ll have a chat,” Clara chirped. “Hopefully those muscles will be useful around here.�
� She gave Tobin’s forearm a squeeze and could have sworn he started to flush slightly. He said nothing, though, just nodded and let her lead the way.

  ***

  Estelle sat the tray with their lemonade and cookies down on the reclaimed barn wood coffee table when Clara and Tobin stepped in. Looking up, something about the young man standing hesitantly behind Clara made Estelle instantly suspicious. She could feel herself tense slightly as she went into a guarded mode. She paused a moment to gather herself before stretching her mouth into a wide grin.

  “Hello there, Tobin! I’m Estelle.” She held out her hand and Tobin took it firmly, causing Estelle to wince a little bit. He must do a lot of work with his hands, she thought at his ridiculous strength.

  “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m so sorry I was late.”

  Clara must have not bought Estelle’s attempt to seem polite because she interjected herself between them. “His bus ran late. He would have called, but his phone died.”

  “Ah,” Estelle responded. She had already decided Tobin was another dud. “Those kind of things just happen sometimes, don’t they? Have a seat, Tobin.”

  Estelle and Tobin took seats in arm chairs across from one another while Clara stayed standing, preparing drinks for each of them. As she handed Tobin his, the way he looked at her answered why Estelle was being so territorial with the young man. There was no hiding the intensity in his eyes, the way he had already adjusted himself in chair once since sitting - Tobin was hot for Clara.

  Estelle laughed on the inside. The poor boy would never stand a chance. Suddenly, Estelle’s view of him wasn’t negative. It had become more amused, and affectionate in the way an older sister looks at a little brother. She felt herself relax once more.

  “So,” Estelle said. “Tell us about your previous experience?”

  “Oh...uh...just a little bit of everything. I’ve done a lot of traveling. Lots of just going from farm to maybe like an auto shop or a salvage warehouse. There’s few manual labor jobs I haven’t done,” Tobin rubbed his hands together and picked at calluses as he spoke.