by Kim Baldwin
“Erin?” Gable propped her back against the door frame and folded her arms. Something told her she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Did I say something to make you angry?”
Erin took a deep breath before she answered. “No, Gable. I’m not mad. Let’s just drop it, okay?”
“Does this have something to do with your marriage?” Gable took a stab in the dark. Erin had volunteered only that she’d made a bad mistake when she had married. She’d never told Gable any more than that, although they had shared the details of most all the other noteworthy parts of their lives.
Erin left with Earl Grey without answering.
Gable was puzzled by Erin’s sudden mood swing, and unsettled by it. But it’s not the first time it’s ever happened, she realized, going to the window. It’s just much worse today. At every mention of marriage or commitment whatsoever, Erin changed. Usually it was pretty subtle. But it was like a chill came over her and she withdrew into herself. Gable watched her drive off without a wave good-bye. What the hell happened to you to make you this way, Erin?
*
She fretted about Erin’s abrupt departure all morning. She showered and dressed for the wedding in a simple navy pantsuit and white silk blouse, but still couldn't calm her crowded mind. By the time she got to the church and slipped into a pew in the back, she was vaguely nauseous.
She had hoped that attending the wedding together might encourage Erin to talk about her feelings. Might get her thinking favorably about planning their future together. Instead, the occasion had split them apart.
The dull pain in her stomach grew as she listened to Billy and Therese exchange their vows. She ached to one day say those words to Erin, and to have Erin promise to love, honor, and cherish her until death parted them. She wondered again what had happened to make her so against marriage.
As she passed through the receiving line outside the church, she put on her best smile and congratulated the happy couple.
“What a wonderful ceremony. Therese, you are positively glowing. And you don’t clean up so bad, either, Billy,” she kidded the groom, a mechanic who’d managed to scrub away what she could have sworn were permanent grease stains on his knuckles.
“Thanks for coming, Gable.” Therese pecked her on the cheek.
“Erin couldn’t make it?” Billy took Gable’s hand in both of his.
Gable and Erin had made no public acknowledgement that they were seeing each other, but a couple of the guys at the poker table had caught on to the looks between them, and word had gotten around the squad. They’d been the subject of some good-natured ribbing after that, but everyone had been pretty cool about it—even the more conservative guys Gable had thought might create some problems.
“She sends her regrets,” Gable replied. She didn’t want to say more. She hated lying.
The reception was being held at the VFW Post a couple of miles from the church—Billy was a veteran of Desert Storm. Halfway there, Gable pulled off the road onto a side street and stopped the car. She took her cell phone out of the glove compartment and checked the display. No messages.
She punched in Erin’s number at home. The phone rang five times and then her answering machine picked up.
“Hi. Are you there? It’s me. I just wanted to talk to you and see how you’re doing.” She paused, hoping Erin was listening to her and would pick up. It didn’t happen. Well, she did say she was going to run errands. “I’m headed for the reception. I’ll try your cell. Please call me.”
She had talked Erin into buying a cell phone a couple of weeks after they’d started seeing each other. It hadn’t been too hard to do, though Erin had sworn she’d never get one. With their jobs and Erin’s training, they had been playing phone tag. It was much easier for them to reach each other on their cell phones.
“The cellular customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. If you’d like to leave a message, press one.”
Gable hit the button. “Erin, it’s me. Please call me on my cell. I hope you’re okay.” She took a deep breath. “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry if I upset you.” Setting her phone on vibrate, she slipped it into the pocket of her blazer and headed to the reception.
She mingled for a while with a glass of Guinness in her hand, trying not to glance at the watch on her wrist. She lingered in small groups where someone was telling a story, so she could nod her head agreeably and feign interest, all the while obsessed with wondering what was happening with Erin. Her mind was so removed from the reception that she jumped out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey! Easy there. I only wanted to ask you to dance.” Carl had a hand extended, palm up. The reception music was provided by a local DJ, whose current CD selection was Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood.” A half dozen other couples were dancing.
“What will Alberta say?” she kidded him with a smile, setting down her glass and letting him lead her to the modest dance floor.
“She knows how much I love her,” he said, sweeping her around the floor in a fast-fast slow-slow swing step.
The words tugged at her heart. “Your wife is a lucky woman,” she told him. I wish I could know so clearly how Erin feels.
There must have been something in the tone of her voice. Carl led her off the floor and over to a corner away from everyone.
“What’s the matter, Gable?” he asked.
“You’re very perceptive, you know that?”
He shrugged.
“It's Erin…sometimes I have no idea what's going on with her,” Gable said.
“Women are hard to understand, sometimes,” he said, and got a smile out of her. “Anything I can do? Want me to talk some sense into her?”
“No. But thank you. I mean that. You’ve been a good friend and I appreciate your support.”
“I think a lot of the both of you.” Carl rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Let me know if I can do anything.”
“You can lead me around some more on the dance floor and get my mind off my troubles for a little while.”
He held out his hand. “I can do that.”
*
Gable tried both of Erin’s numbers again as she drove home at eight. The party was still going strong, but they’d gotten past the dinner and requisite toasts, and picture-taking, cake-cutting, and garter belt rituals. She had slipped away when the dancing had drinking had begun in earnest, knowing she would not be missed.
Erin was still not answering either phone. Gable started to leave another message, but stopped herself. Don’t pressure her. Give her some time.
She held her breath as she pulled into her driveway, hoping against hope that Erin would be waiting for her. Gable had given her an extra key, and she’d used it a few times. She had one to Erin’s cabin too, but she knew that now would not be the time to use it.
No red pickup was waiting for her.
Gable unlocked the door and let herself inside. The house was quiet. No messages waited on her answering machine. She shrugged off her coat and dropped her keys on the counter, wincing at how loud they sounded in the absolute stillness. The house lacked warmth without Erin and Earl Grey in it.
This is not like you, Erin. You’re never out of touch this long anymore. Not since we’ve been together. She tried to shake off a nagging disquiet.
Chapter Sixteen
“You look terrible. Are you ill?”
Gable glanced up from the phoned-in prescription she was filling to find June appraising her with a critical eye from the other side of the counter. The drugstore was empty but for the two of them and Max, a high school kid who worked part time stocking shelves and helping out at the cash register.
She knew the sleepless night spent staring at the phone had taken its toll. She noticed the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes when she was dressing for work, and she had been yawning nonstop all morning.
“I’m fine, June. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”
&n
bsp; “Ah ha! I see,” June commented as she bent forward and rested her elbows on the counter, her posture and tone implying that she suspected there might be a good story behind Gable’s excuse.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, June. I was all by myself. I just couldn’t get to sleep.”
June’s face fell with the news there would be no good gossip arising out of Gable’s tired countenance. “Oh.” Then her motherly side took over. “Sure you’re not sick?”
“No, really. I’m fine.”
The bell over the front door sounded and June headed back to her register, sparing Gable further scrutiny.
The four cups of coffee she had ingested during the course of the morning felt like they were burning a hole in her stomach. And she could feel the tension building between her shoulder blades, knotting up the muscles in her back. She had tried Erin’s numbers a few more times last night, and again this morning, with no success. She’d begun to contemplate what it would be like to resume her old life. Without Erin. What if she shuts you out permanently?
It was unthinkable. Unbearable.
She had no real hope that Erin would be waiting for her after work, although they routinely had dinner at Gable’s house on Monday nights. Still, her heartbeat picked up as she neared her house, and she said a silent prayer for the red pickup to be there.
To her profound relief, it was.
The lights were on; Erin had used her spare key and let herself in.
Gable rushed up the steps. Erin met her at the door and hugged her fiercely. “I’m sorry, Gable. I’m sorry I was such a brat.”
“Not necessary,” Gable hugged her back.
“Yes, it is,” Erin insisted, not loosening her embrace. “I have some…some issues, especially on the subject of marriage,” she explained vaguely. “I told you that. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” She looked up at Gable with moist eyes. “Forgive me?”
Gable kissed the top of her head. “Nothing to forgive. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories, or pry. I really didn’t. I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
Erin hugged her tighter. “I know that,” she said in a soft voice.
“I was worried when you wouldn’t answer the phone.”
“I drove around a long time. I ended up in Petoskey.”
“Petoskey?”
“Yeah. I went to see my mother. I told her about us.”
Gable drew back and looked at Erin with wide eyes. “You did?” Her heartbeat pounded in her chest.
“She wants to meet you.”
“How did she react?”
Erin snorted. “My mother is never what you expect. She was fine with it. She just wanted to know if I was happy.”
“And are you happy?” Gable’s voice betrayed her and broke on the last word.
“I am happy, Gable. As happy as I can be, without some help.”
“Help?”
“I’m going to start seeing a therapist. My mother recommended it, and I think she may have something.”
Alarm bells went off in Gable’s head. A therapist? A therapist who will tell you you’re really not gay, just confused. I bet that’s what your mother is hoping for. She’s not fine with it at all if she is recommending you see a shrink about it. Her insides churned with worry. Just wait. Give her a session or two with a psychiatrist and Erin will be telling you she can’t see you anymore.
“Gable? Did you hear what I said?”
You can’t tell her not to do this. It’s not your place. It’s her decision. “Yes. I heard you. You think this will help you?”
“I do. I hope so.”
Gable pulled her close. “I hope you’re right.”
*
From all outward appearances, things between them resumed as before. They remained virtually inseparable, spending most of their evenings and weekends together, and were certainly no less passionate with each other than they’d been.
They celebrated a quiet Thanksgiving at Gable’s house with turkey and all the trimmings, and Erin spoke excitedly about how much she looked forward to spending their first Christmas together.
But Gable felt like she was living on borrowed time.
Erin was seeing a therapist named Karen twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays after school. She told Gable when her appointments were, and said they were helping her, but she never shared any details of the sessions.
On those days, especially, Gable lived on tenterhooks, expecting the worst: expecting Erin to march in and announce she was straight after all.
It was on a Friday, three weeks before Christmas, that Gable got a phone call as she was about to leave the drugstore. Friday had become pizza night—Gable would pick up a large pepperoni and black olive pizza at the Slice of Heaven on her way home and they would rendezvous at her house. Erin’s therapy went until five and Gable worked until six, so more often than not, Erin was waiting for her when she pulled in.
But Erin had other plans tonight.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she began when Gable came on the line.
“What’s up?” Gable tried to keep her voice steady, but a feeling of dread pushed at her from all sides.
“Do you mind coming over to my house for dinner tonight instead of doing pizza?”
“No, whatever you like. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Erin said. “I had a good session today and I want to talk to you about it. Karen thought I might be more comfortable if I was at home.”
“All right.” Gable couldn’t breathe. Shit. Shit. Shit. This is it.
“I’ll see you when you get here, then,” Erin signed off.
“See you soon.”
For the first time since they’d met, Gable was not anxious to see Erin. Her worst fears were about to be realized, she was certain. She was going to lose the woman she had come to love with all her heart and soul. It was going to be one lonely Christmas.
When she arrived at her destination, she cut the engine and sat in the Jeep a long moment, looking wistfully at Erin’s cabin. The warm, inviting glow of the light from the windows. She’d spent so many hours inside, in Erin’s arms, in Erin’s bed. It had become as much a home to her as her own. Home is where the heart is, indeed. How cruel to find it, and then have it taken away.
She forced herself out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door. Her hand trembled as it reached for the knob. “I’m here,” she announced, letting herself in.
The stereo was playing “It Had to Be You.”
The dining table was set for two, with Erin’s best china and sterling silver flatware set on linen napkins and place mats. Delicate crystal flutes, positioned just so. In the center, two slender candles in silver candlesticks flanked a bottle of champagne, chilling in an ice bucket.
Gable pulled off her coat and hung it from a hook next to the front door. Her nose caught a whiff of…something wonderful. She started toward the kitchen, but Erin’s voice from the bedroom doorway stopped her in her tracks.
“Hi. I was changing.”
Gable turned and wanted to melt on the spot. Erin was wearing the outfit that was absolutely, positively guaranteed to drive Gable wild—the black demi-cup bra and matching panties she had bought at Victoria’s Secret that memorable shopping day. The bra and panties that Erin had been wearing when she haunted Gable’s dreams.
Gable couldn’t breathe. Perhaps she should never have told Erin about the dreams. That lingerie had become Erin’s secret weapon. Gable could feel a roar of heat rush over her like a wave, settling between her legs. She was instantly wet.
“What’s all this?” Her voice sounded quite a bit higher than usual, and Erin seemed pleased by that.
A big smile spread across her face as she approached and wrapped her arms around Gable’s neck. Automatically, Gable gathered her close, arms around her waist, but she was too stunned to speak. This certainly was not at all what she expected.
“Gable?” Erin’s fore
head furrowed as she looked into Gable’s eyes. “Is something the matter?”
“I…uh…well, I uh…wasn’t expecting this,” Gable stuttered.
“Why? I can’t be romantic?”
“No! I mean, yes! Of course you can be romantic. I mean…you are romantic. Very. A lot. Like now. This.” Gable sounded like her brain was short-circuiting, which wasn’t far from the truth. You can’t think straight when she wears that. “I just mean…I…never mind.” Why are you fighting this, you idiot?
Her body took control, as it always did when Erin brought out the black bra and panties. She dipped her head and met Erin’s mouth hard as her hands smoothed down over Erin’s ass and pulled their bodies roughly together.
Erin whimpered and laced her fingers through Gable’s hair as she deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue into Gable’s mouth and rocking against her, a slow easy roll of her hips that sent Gable’s arousal into the stratosphere.
She had to come up for air. “God, what you do to me,” she said hoarsely, as she matched Erin’s movements with thrusts of her own.
“Clothes,” Erin panted, breaking their embrace to grapple for the clasp and zipper on Gable’s navy dress slacks. “You have far too many clothes on.”
Gable fumbled for the buttons on her shirt, not about to disagree. She felt like a death row prisoner who had been given a last-minute reprieve by the governor.
Once Gable was naked, Erin quickly stripped off her lingerie and led her by the hand to the candlelit bedroom and into the big sleigh bed.
Their mouths met again—impatient, hungry—as their bodies pressed against each other, breast to breast, pelvis to pelvis.
Erin rolled them until she was atop Gable, then she pushed herself up on her hands and opened her legs, so she was straddling Gable’s abdomen.
Gable reached up and cupped Erin’s breasts in her hands as she thrust upward with her hips. She could feel the wetness of Erin’s desire paint her stomach, and it ratcheted up her arousal another notch. Erin threw her head back and groaned.
