Providence

by Leigh Hays

  * * *

  Rebekiah stood at the edge of the room and watched Thea sleep in the early morning light. She stared at her features, so gaunt and unlike the woman who dominated her past. She’d spent alternating years admiring, despising, ignoring, and finally acknowledging the significant role Thea played in her professional and personal life. They never talked about any of it. Instead, they danced around the edges, attacking and surrendering when the other least expected it.

  “Sasha, is that you?” Thea’s voice rasped across the quiet room.

  Rebekiah pulled away from the wall. “No, it’s Rebekiah.”

  “You look like your mother.” Her eyes scanned the room and focused. A slight shake of her head and a twist of her lips preceded her words. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “Collette called me. She’s worried about you.” She took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to say this. “I’m worried about you.”

  Thea flapped her hand and patted the bed. “Did you see the show? Collette said you were out of town.”

  Rebekiah hid her irritation at Collette’s white lie and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not yet.”

  “Pfft. Doesn’t matter. It’s stuff you’ve seen before.” She touched her knee. “What are you working on?”

  Rebekiah shrugged. “Not much.”

  “Bullshit. We’re artists. We’re always working on something. What is it?” She made a face. “Not that death stuff with that model.”

  Rebekiah stiffened. Aldina was not the only critic of her work with Emma. “No, that’s done.”

  “Good. Good.” She patted her knee. “Don’t get me wrong. The intersection between life and death is worth exploring. But those shots were devoid of commentary. Look at your father’s picture. Now there’s a scene rife with emotions.”

  The image of Rebekiah’s mother standing next to her father’s open casket popped up, followed by the memory of that picture. Her mother had whirled on Thea and slapped the camera out of her hands. “Didn’t she break your lens?”

  Thea chuckled. “She did. We didn’t talk for a whole year.” She sighed and closed her eyes. Her hand grasped at Rebekiah’s knee. “You’re just like her, you know?”

  Rebekiah scoffed. Her mother floated in and out of people’s lives. She was always moving, never stopping. And yet people loved her. Just like Emma. Intimacy with them had vacillated between fleeting and intense. She was nothing like that.

  Thea opened her eyes and clutched Rebekiah’s leg. “You always take everything head-on. Sure, you made mistakes, but you never cried about it. You moved on. She did that, too.”

  Rebekiah absorbed this piece of information.

  A slight smile touched Thea’s lips. “Your grandfather hated her.”

  Rebekiah remembered his face at her mother’s funeral, one of the only times she ever saw him cry. “He did?”

  She barely nodded and yawned. “These damn drugs make me so sleepy.” She slurred the last words. “You’re going to be here when I wake up?”

  Rebekiah smiled and held her hand. “Yeah.”

  Thea’s eyes fluttered, and Rebekiah waited for a minute to see if she’d say anything else. She didn’t, and Rebekiah watched while she fell asleep. The conversation unsettled her. Thea rarely talked about the past and even less about her mother.

  Collette arrived while she was still sleeping, and Rebekiah went to get coffee. When she came back, Thea was awake and disoriented. She helped Collette calm her but suffered a few well-placed barbs during the argument. Collette didn’t stop her when she left the room angry and hurt.

  Over the next two days, Rebekiah helped move Thea back to the house and arrange medical services for her. But they never talked about her mother again. A particularly grueling day with Thea was followed by a quiet conversation with Thea’s in-home nurse about the need for a long-term solution in the not so distant future. And another conversation with Collette that laid bare how little savings they had.

  Equal parts overwhelmed and emotionally drained, her text conversations with Lindsey provided some relief. They consisted of brief check-ins and candid shots of Sera lounging in Lindsey’s office or house. But after her talk with Collette, she finally called Lindsey to discuss setting up a trust for Collette and Thea.

  Lindsey was all business at first. “I’ll have our retirement expert pull something together for you.” She paused and her tone switched. “How’s it going otherwise?”

  Rebekiah sighed. “We had a moment, but that’s done.” Thea’s homecoming heralded the return to their adversarial relationship. She didn’t elaborate, and Lindsey didn’t push. She asked a few follow-up questions around the trust and then hung up.

  Throughout the week, Collette and Thea’s friends drifted in and out of the house, bringing food and company. Rebekiah caught up with childhood friends and spent New Year’s Eve with her uncle and his kids, all of whom were ten years younger than her. Her last two days she puttered around the house, helping Collette as much as she could. On Rebekiah’s last day, Lindsey FedExed a packet with all the details, and Rebekiah presented it to them both after dinner. As expected, she was met with stony silence from Thea and tearful gratitude from Collette. She left it at that.

  She took a long walk through the neighborhood and considered texting Lindsey, but she didn’t want to burden her with any more of her dysfunctional family dynamics. Lindsey had her own family for that. But even thinking about talking to Lindsey gave Rebekiah comfort, and that feeling was both welcome and surprising. She had let so few new people into her life since Emma’s death. And before that, she’d had a pretty tight circle. Yet something about Lindsey drew her in.

  She came back to a slightly dark house and settled into the living room with her laptop. She heard movement upstairs and assumed that Collette was getting Thea ready for bed.

  “She’s striking.”

  Rebekiah glanced up as Collette sat on the couch next to her. She was combing through photos for Lindsey’s spread and stumbled on the shots she took in the Philadelphia hotel room. Lindsey held her hand to her ear with her head slightly downcast but her eyes level with the camera. She had a slight smile on her face that conveyed both annoyance and a you-caught-me look. Rebekiah tilted her head to the side and smiled. It was quintessential Lindsey and made her slightly homesick. “Yeah, she is.”

  Collette nodded. “Is she the person you’ve been texting?”

  Rebekiah smiled. “Sorry. I tried to be discreet.”

  Collette patted her hand. “No worries. She’s got your attention.” She smiled. “That’s good for you.”

  Rebekiah sighed. “I hope so.” She closed the lid and put the laptop on the coffee table. “How’s she doing?”

  Collette rolled her eyes and leaned back. “She’s cranky but sleeping. Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” She smiled. “Thea’d love to have you around for a few days.”

  Rebekiah snorted but held her tongue.

  “Thank you for the trust. I know she won’t say it, but she’s really grateful for the help.”

  Rebekiah bristled. “You don’t have to speak for her.”

  “I know. But I do anyway. She’s set in her ways, and what’s left of her is fading.” She sighed. “You know she’s proud of your work.”

  Rebekiah coughed.

  Collette squeezed her forearm and turned toward her with a grin. “She is. She brags about you.”

  Rebekiah rolled her eyes. Knowing that fact only reinforced her bitterness. “No doubt as the prodigal protégé.”

  Collette shook her head. “No. As her child. It’s hard for her to see you as who you are because she still sees you for who you were. But she loves you. She always has.”

  Rebekiah swallowed, not trusting herself to speak.

  Collette patted her shoulder and stood. “It’s never perfect. You do the best you can with what you got.”

  Rebekiah returned to Providence the next day.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lindsey turned the co
rner, carrying her lunch in one hand and holding Sera’s leash with the other. Sera pulled up short and barked. Rebekiah sat on the marble steps of her apartment building with her hands between her knees. A warm feeling poured through Lindsey. It was happiness and relief—she’d missed her, even though they texted or spoke almost every day. “You’re back.”

  Rebekiah glanced up and stood.

  Lindsey’s happiness faded at the look on Rebekiah’s face. She moved as if all her energy was gone, and her expression conveyed sadness. Lindsey moved toward her. Was Thea dead? “What happened?”

  Rebekiah bit her lip and shook her head as if to say “nothing.”

  Lindsey’s heart clenched. Sera tugged on her leash and barked again. Lindsey let her go. Sera plowed right into Rebekiah, and Rebekiah dropped to her knees and buried her face in her neck.

  Lindsey knelt down beside them. She could hear Rebekiah’s quiet sobs. Sera squirmed, and Lindsey picked up the end of the leash. Her uneasiness faded, replaced by a protectiveness she wasn’t aware she felt. “Rebekiah?” Rebekiah looked up with her arms still around her dog and tears streaming down her face. Lindsey reached out. “Oh, come here.”

  She put the bag on the sidewalk and pulled Rebekiah into a hug. Sera stepped aside, still attached to Lindsey and the leash but free of her owner’s suffocating grip. Rebekiah tucked her face into Lindsey’s neck and continued to cry.

  She felt completely out of her depth. It had been far too long since she’d comforted someone. Physical comfort wasn’t something her family did. Monica had been the only one she’d done it for, often prompted.

  Rebekiah pulled away and brushed the tears from her face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that.”

  “Don’t be. I think you needed that.” Lindsey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Rebekiah sniffed and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you come inside?” She led her upstairs and sat her on the couch while she made a cup of tea. It felt very domestic and not at all what she thought their reunion would be.

  “Thank you.” Rebekiah wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey. Sera curled at her feet. Lindsey settled next to her.

  Lindsey rubbed along her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Rebekiah shook her head and sipped her tea.

  “When did you get back?”

  “An hour ago.” Rebekiah put her mug on the coffee table and, pulling her legs up on the couch, wrapped her arms around her knees.

  Lindsey gave her some space. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “My cell phone died.”

  Lindsey gave her a gentle smile. “Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

  Rebekiah shrugged. “A little.”

  Lindsey stood and held out her hand. “Come on.”

  Rebekiah took her hand and followed her upstairs. Lindsey let go and walked toward her bed. When Rebekiah didn’t follow, she turned and saw her staring at her wall. Centered above her bed hung a painting with swirls of red and black that looked reminiscent of native totem carvings. “Oh, do you like it? I picked it up in Vancouver about four years ago.”

  Rebekiah turned her head to the side. “It’s two women.”

  Lindsey grinned. “Yes. I know. Isn’t it great? Not many people see that right away. It usually takes the fourth or fifth time to figure it out.” Lindsey saw the spark of attraction light up.

  Rebekiah’s lips quirked. “You have many repeat visitors to your bedroom?”

  “Uh…” Lindsey blushed, slightly uncomfortable but a little relieved that she felt good enough to tease her.

  But the moment passed quickly, and Rebekiah’s smile faded as she moved toward the bed. Sera followed, leaping up beside her. “What are you doing up here?” She pointed at the floor. “Down.” Sera glanced at Lindsey. With a slight groan, she jumped to the ground and parked her butt next to her owner. Rebekiah’s eyes narrowed. “Did you sleep on the bed the entire time?”

  Lindsey answered for her. “Yes?” After the second time Sera had jumped into her bed, Lindsey didn’t have the heart to kick her off, and besides, she liked her warm body curled next to her.

  Rebekiah looked at Lindsey. “She did, did she?”

  As if sensing her owner’s annoyance, Sera trotted past her and walked to Lindsey, who changed the topic. “Here.” She flipped back the covers. “Lie down.”

  Rebekiah shook her head. “Lindsey, I can go home.”

  “Let me take care of you.”

  Rebekiah’s shoulders slumped, and she exhaled, “Okay.”

  “Here. I’ll get you some clothes.” She went to her closet and heard Rebekiah kick off her shoes. She turned around and held out the items only to see Rebekiah crawl into her bed naked. A tiny gasp escaped, and she dropped her arms. “Or not.”

  Rebekiah gave her a sleepy smile and said, “Don’t let me sleep the day away.”

  Ignoring the fact that she was naked and in her bed, Lindsey tucked her in.

  Rebekiah snuggled down and rolled over. The blanket slid, and Lindsey tucked it back. She rested her hand along Rebekiah’s back until she fell asleep. Then she pulled away and gently closed the door.

  While Rebekiah slept, Lindsey worked downstairs on her couch with Sera nestled beside her. As evening approached, she ducked in and checked on her guest. Rebekiah still slept soundly. Lindsey didn’t have the heart to wake her. She couldn’t remember the last time she took care of someone. She had no idea what to do or how to act so she waited, hoping Rebekiah would give her a clue when she got up.

  She ate dinner on the couch, watching the news before returning to her laptop. An hour after dinner, she looked up when Rebekiah padded into her living room wearing sweats and a T-shirt. “I slept the day away.”

  Lindsey smiled and put her laptop to the side. Sera slid off the couch. “I know. You were sleeping so soundly.”

  Rebekiah stroked Sera’s head and then straightened. She ran a hand down her clothes. “I hope you don’t mind. I found them on the dresser.”

  “Not at all. You look good in my clothes.” She patted the cushion next to her. Sera jumped up next to her.

  “Down.” Rebekiah tapped Sera’s ass and took her place. Lindsey raised her arm and curved it around Rebekiah’s shoulders. She leaned in and sighed.

  Lindsey craned her neck to the side. She didn’t know where to begin. “Long week?”

  She nodded.

  Lindsey combed her fingers through her hair and marveled at the easy intimacy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She groaned. “I feel like all I’ve done is talk all week.”

  Lindsey eased back. “Okay. Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  What else did people do when they didn’t want to talk? Should she just hold her? She’d already done that. Did she need more? Lindsey leaned forward and grabbed a remote. “Want to watch a movie?” Rebekiah’s hand wrapped around hers, and Lindsey admitted, “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Just sit here.”

  Lindsey nodded and leaned back again. Rebekiah lay down and put her head in her lap, her hand stretched across Lindsey’s legs and cupping her waist. Lindsey inhaled.

  Rebekiah rubbed her hand along her waist. “Is this okay?”

  Warm tingles moved up her body along all the points Rebekiah touched. “Yes.”

  Rebekiah spoke so quietly that Lindsey almost missed it. “You can keep combing my hair.”

  Lindsey smoothed her hand across Rebekiah’s forehead and back again and again. The rhythm relaxed her mind, and she drifted in that half-conscious, half-asleep state until Rebekiah’s grip grew slack and her breathing evened. Trapped, Lindsey couldn’t reach the remote, her phone, or her laptop. If she moved, she’d wake her, and somehow, she couldn’t do that. So she sat and finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lindsey picked up the phone on the second ring. She answered, not sure which Rebekiah she’
d be dealing with this morning. “Hey.”

  “Hi, I got your note.” Her voice was raspy and low, all traces of last night’s vulnerability gone.

  Lindsey glanced at her phone. Almost noon. “Did you just wake up?”

  A warm chuckle. “No. I’ve been at the studio for a couple of hours.” How did she make a simple statement sound so sexy? A pause and then she said, “Thinking about you.”

  Her tone left no doubt as to what she was thinking about. Lindsey got up and closed her office door.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Working,” Lindsey replied without missing a beat. But now she was interested in a much different activity.

  “When you’re done, come over.”

  “It could be late.” She wanted to see her but knew that her schedule was erratic. Former lovers had complained enough that she felt compelled to put it out there.

  Rebekiah didn’t take no for an answer, and Lindsey thanked her for that. “I’ll wake up.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.” She felt the heat rising in her face. She glanced around to make sure no one could see.

  Rebekiah’s voice was a low whisper. “Just show up.”

  Lindsey hung up and exhaled. After a week of explicit flirting on text, she’d expected their reunion to be more sexual and less emotional. Although, after Rebekiah’s week, she wasn’t surprised by her needs, only that it was her who Rebekiah turned to. She still wasn’t sure how to deal with the complications Rebekiah represented. She liked her life and how she lived it. Still…

  An email from Li Jing appeared in her inbox, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that work would soon take her out of town for more than a week.