by Karis Walsh
“If you’re going to treat me like a pack mule, you should at least feed me something,” Andy growled as Brooke slipped another bag of produce over her arm. Brooke glanced at her face, startled by her tone, but when Andy spoke again the traces of irritation were absent from her voice. “There’s a place on the next street that has great Mediterranean food,” she suggested.
“That sounds good,” Brooke said. “I’m starving.”
“How can you be hungry after you’ve sampled half the market?” Andy asked with a laugh. “You’re like a two-year-old. Everything you see goes in your mouth.”
“Hmm. I thought you liked that about me,” Brooke said with a grin, resettling the small sugar pumpkin she carried under her left arm and hooking her right hand under Andy’s elbow. She pulled her hand away again and moved the pumpkin back to her right side.
“It happens to be one of your best traits, if I remember correctly,” Andy said. “And you know, you can touch me.”
Brooke bumped Andy with her shoulder, just hard enough to knock her off-balance. “How’s that?”
Andy took a few awkward steps with her heavy packages but managed to stay upright. “That wasn’t what I meant by touching,” she said, taking a swipe at Brooke with the bag of wine and narrowly missing a man who was trying to pass them. He stepped off the sidewalk and glared as he walked past. “See?” she said to a giggling Brooke. “He probably wouldn’t have noticed if we had just been holding hands.”
Brooke, still laughing, moved her pumpkin again and slid her arm through Andy’s as they walked the short distance to the restaurant. “I’m only doing this to keep you from knocking over any pedestrians,” she said.
Andy dropped into a seat at one of the street-side tables surrounded by their bags, while Brooke went into the restaurant, barely the size of Andy’s kitchen, and ordered their food. After sharing a plate of falafel with tahini sauce, sitting close enough to Andy so their thighs brushed under the table, Brooke’s spirits were improving rapidly. She relaxed enough to get sidetracked by the flavors as she scooped up the last bits of saffron rice with a piece of pita bread, and she decided they needed to return to a spice shop they had passed so she could try to recreate the meal.
They were almost out of the market when Brooke veered off again, following the smell of cinnamon to a kiosk selling doughnuts.
“Granddad and I used to get these,” she said once Andy had caught up. They watched the tiny doughnuts drop into the fryer, and Brooke bought a bag for them to share.
Brooke popped a doughnut, still warm from the oil, into Andy’s mouth since her arms were too laden with bags for her to eat on her own. Andy was watching her as if mesmerized while Brooke licked cinnamon-sugar off her fingers, until her gaze suddenly shifted to a point over Brooke’s shoulder. Brooke turned to see what had caught Andy’s attention, but at first all she saw was a crowded seafood stand. “It’s funny that almost every TV show about Seattle shows those guys throwing fish around. I don’t get why…” Her voice faded as she saw Jake standing with a couple of people from the office. They were laughing and talking as if trying to entertain Jake. She watched silently for a moment. “That’s Marianne and Steve from the law firm,” she said finally.
“Do you want to go talk to them?” Andy asked reluctantly, breaking Brooke out of her trance.
“No.” She shook her head and turned back to Andy. “Jake and I have talked enough. I don’t think we’re ready for a casual meeting in public.”
Brooke knew it would upset Jake to run into her when he was with his friends, to be pitied as the jilted lover. She balled up the bag with the last two doughnuts in it and tossed it in a garbage can on the way to the car. She had saved him from an awkward meeting, but she felt her own day clouded with reminders of the past.
*
They finished shopping and drove home in near silence. Brooke knew it hurt Andy when she withdrew like she had this past hour, but her mind was too full of guilt and indecision to make the effort to return to the lighthearted mood they had shared all day. They both seemed to be dragging as they hauled the groceries up to Andy’s apartment. Andy set their bags on the counter and went to check the answering machine.
“Call me.” The angry tone of the simple answering machine message startled both women.
“My dad,” Andy said grimly, heading toward her room to make the call. “Do you mind putting the groceries away while I call him back?”
Brooke shook her head and started to unpack the mountain of produce that had looked so good at the market. Now she wasn’t sure if she had the energy to do all the cutting and chopping and cooking that were required to assemble the food into a meal fit for company. She put the pears that had seemed so sweet and wonderful this morning into a bowl on the dining room table and wished she could step back in time and relive this day that had been full of laughter and teasing. This time she wouldn’t turn around and see Jake looking so dejected, and have to face the realization that she was the cause of his heartache. She was sorry about his pain, but she knew she had made the right decision. Seeing him, she realized how little she missed her old life, and it frightened her how close she had come to subjecting them both to an unhappy marriage. She had been so blind to her own needs, and she couldn’t let that happen ever again.
Brooke winced as she heard Andy’s voice rise in the other room. With the door closed, she couldn’t hear the conversation, but Andy’s tone told her it wasn’t a pleasant one. Brooke’s heart reached out to her, and she realized Andy offered a kind of relationship so different from what she had with Jake. Andy recognized and appreciated all of those wacky little traits that made her Brooke. And just being with her made even something as simple as buying groceries playful and fun. And most of all, Brooke had a nearly irresistible urge to touch her and be close to her.
Once all the food was haphazardly thrown into the fridge, Brooke sat at the dining room table and listened to the sound of Andy’s voice as she dealt with her father’s anger. He must have been told, probably by Amy, that his oldest daughter wasn’t coming home for the holiday this year. Apparently he wasn’t accepting the fact calmly. After over half an hour, there was only silence from Andy’s room. Brooke waited several minutes, then tapped lightly on the bedroom door and opened it to find Andy lying on her bed.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t help with the groceries,” Andy said quietly, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.
“It’s all right,” Brooke said as she sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out and gently brushed Andy’s hair back from her face. “Was he very angry with you?”
“You could hear?”
Brooke shrugged. “Not much. It’s my fault this happened. I was trying to get back at you when I invited everyone for Thanksgiving, and I didn’t realize—”
Andy grabbed Brooke’s hand that was still playing with her hair. “You did a nice thing. Everyone’s looking forward to coming. It’s just that, dealing with him when he’s so mad, I feel like a little kid again. I’d rather be here with you on Thanksgiving, but I hate disappointing my family.”
“It seems the more we try to be happy, the more we hurt other people,” Brooke said sadly. Andy couldn’t deny it. She knew that without her there as a buffer, Amy and her dad would be at each other all night. She didn’t know how she could enjoy Thanksgiving if she knew her family was miserable, but she couldn’t hurt Brooke after she had worked so hard to plan a great holiday for everyone.
“I can make us something for dinner,” Brooke offered after a short, depressing silence.
Andy shook her head. “I’m not hungry. But could you lie here with me for a while?”
Brooke nodded, and they stripped down to T-shirts before sliding under the covers. Brooke turned on her side and pulled Andy against her, wrapping an arm tightly across her waist. Andy felt the warmth of Brooke drawing the tension out of her body. Just this morning, being this close would have triggered an arousal that would have kept her awake all night, but now Andy o
nly wanted to relax into the comfort of Brooke’s arms. A couple of months ago, she’d had some semblance of control over her life. Her relationships with Lyssa and her parents weren’t ideal, but they were familiar and predictable. Her work with the symphony was uninspiring but enjoyable. Now she was being pushed out of her comfort zone with her new symphony role of leader and soloist. Her professional life was encroaching on her personal life. In fact, it was coming to Thanksgiving dinner. And this woman had come into her life bringing complications and an untidiness that threatened the thin veneer of harmony she had been fighting to maintain. Andy drifted to sleep in Brooke’s arms, wondering why it felt so right to be with her, in spite of all the chaos she brought.
Chapter Nineteen
Brooke cooked for two solid days, in a frenzy of activity. She desperately wanted to give Andy a taste of Thanksgiving that was full of good food and friendship instead of deception and conflict. Once she started the massive project, however, she felt her own mood lift as the smells and tastes of her creations filled her with a sense of accomplishment. The pumpkin pie was indeed the kitchen disaster Andy had expected, and Brooke couldn’t clearly explain how she got pumpkin seeds stuck on the ceiling, but judging by the pie’s aroma it promised to be worth her effort.
Andy spent most of the days in her music room or at the symphony hall, preparing for the usual rush of Christmas concerts. She told Brooke she was putting in extra hours of playing so she could have Thursday free without guilt, although she emerged now and then to taste one of Brooke’s experiments or help with chopping vegetables. Their meals consisted of small samples of Thanksgiving dishes and a large bowl of couscous that Brooke decided was good enough for them to eat, but not for company.
It wasn’t until Thursday morning that Andy went into a frenzy of her own and started cleaning the apartment. Brooke glowered at her as she made their lattes, not pleased about waking up at seven to the sound of the vacuum. Andy ignored her usual good morning cheer and carried armloads of Brooke’s clothes into her room and dumped them on the closet floor.
“I was going to sit in bed and read with my coffee,” Brooke complained when she saw that Andy had folded up the sofa bed.
“Sit on my bed,” Andy said without compassion. “Then get your shower out of the way before I box up most of the stuff in the bathroom.”
Brooke opened her mouth to protest, but Andy spoke before she had a chance. “You can have everything back tomorrow, but for today it’s going in a box under the sink.”
By noon, they had each done as much as possible to prepare for their guests. “This is the last of the couscous,” Brooke said as she dropped onto the sofa next to Andy and handed her a plate. The dining room table was already set up as a buffet for dinner.
“Now I know what to be thankful for,” Andy muttered as she toyed with her food before resignedly putting a bite in her mouth.
*
Andy came out of the bathroom a few minutes before their guests were due to arrive, buttoning the dark green shirt she wore with khaki pants, her hair still damp and slicked back from her shower. Brooke stood by the stove dropping chickpea fritters into a pan of hot oil. She was barefoot and wearing a skirt because she told Andy she wanted to show off her tattoo.
Andy came up from behind and slipped her arms lightly around Brooke’s waist, only tightening her hold when Brooke leaned back into her embrace.
“The apartment smells like a spice market,” Andy murmured, nuzzling Brooke’s neck. “And so does your hair.” The exotic scents combined with the traditional Thanksgiving scene seemed so appropriate for Brooke, Andy decided. Always unique, and always unexpected.
Brooke fished the browned fritters out of the pan and turned in Andy’s arms, slipping her own around Andy’s neck.
“You smell like shampoo and toothpaste,” she said, brushing noses with Andy. Andy’s hand slid up Brooke’s back and into her hair. “Why don’t we call everyone and cancel?” she asked as she lowered her mouth to capture Brooke’s.
Brooke felt Andy’s body tense when the knock on the door interrupted their tentative kiss. “It’s going to be okay tonight. They’re your friends.”
“I know,” Andy muttered through clenched teeth. She reluctantly let go of Brooke and went to answer the door. There was a knot in her stomach, familiar to her after years of traditionally miserable holidays. She grimly anticipated an evening of stilted conversation and constant effort on her part to keep everyone somewhat peaceful and entertained. She wanted nothing more than to keep the door shut and hide inside, alone with Brooke who had been so soft in her arms.
She opened the door for Tina and her latest girlfriend. She took their coats, trying to place the tall and elegant black woman whom Tina introduced as Alison. She took them in to meet Brooke before heading toward her bedroom with their coats.
“That’s it,” she said with a snap of her fingers as she turned back to the kitchen. “You were November Ninth’s maid of honor.”
Alison looked at Tina, who frowned at Andy and then explained the quartet’s way of naming brides.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brooke told Alison with a grin as she nudged Andy playfully. “I was October Fifth.”
Their laughter helped ease some of Andy’s tension, and she stepped into the role of host, pouring drinks for her guests and answering the door when Jonas and David knocked. She and Alison were arguing with the guys about what music to put on Andy’s stereo when Richard and Nancy arrived.
“Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a vegetarian dinner,” David said to Richard who was helping Nancy with her coat. She was petite except for her enormous pregnant belly. “Are you trying to smuggle in a turkey?”
Even as he joked with them, David gently helped Nancy into a comfortable chair. She sighed as she sat down and patted her stomach.
“It feels like a twenty-four pounder, at least,” she told him. “We’ll be able to feed the whole apartment building.”
Andy made introductions before disappearing into the kitchen to prepare more drinks. When she returned, she stood quietly in the doorway for a couple of moments, observing the scene in her living room. Tina and David sat near Nancy, laughing and shrieking as she regaled them with gruesome stories about the childbirth video she had watched at her Lamaze class. Alison and Richard had taken charge of the stereo and were sifting through Andy’s music selection. Brooke and Jonas sat on the couch, talking like old friends.
Andy stepped in and handed a cranberry juice to Nancy and one with vodka to Richard.
“Thank you,” he told her before responding to something he heard his wife say. “I did not faint when we saw that film,” he said loudly over David’s gleeful laughter.
“The instructor had to get you a cold cloth and help you with your breathing,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m supposed to be the one lying back on the pillows and being fussed over.”
Brooke slipped over to Andy who was standing a little apart and watching the good-natured banter between husband and wife.
“You’re smiling,” Brooke said, stepping close to her. Andy wrapped her arm around Brooke’s shoulders and pulled her close. Brooke gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Now, go talk to your friends while I check on dinner.”
Andy joined Jonas on the couch, and soon the two of them were discussing favorite hiking routes in the Cascades. The small group of people filled Andy’s tiny apartment, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, as she had been expecting, the atmosphere was cozy and warm. People moved around, forming various new groupings as the conversation flowed, and she found herself letting go of the need to oversee every discussion in order to keep the evening free of dissension. She heard Richard and David arguing about Bach across the room, but soon they were laughing together without needing her as a referee.
She headed into the kitchen and found Brooke and Tina leaning against the counter talking and drinking wine.
“Hi,” Brooke said, lighting up at the sight of Andy. Tina looked f
rom one to the other and rolled her eyes.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said. Neither Brooke nor Andy tried to make her stay, so she took the wine bottle with her and went to the living room to refill glasses.
“I came for more hors d’oeuvres,” Andy said, putting the empty plates on the counter. “Everything is delicious.” She swiped a skewer with pieces of glazed veggie sausage and apple on it while Brooke refilled the plates.
“Mmm, I love these things,” she said, taking another one. “What a great flavor combination.”
“There’s sage in there, too,” Brooke said, slapping Andy’s hand away as she reached for a third appetizer. “Save some for the guests.”
“But I’m hungry,” Andy complained. Brooke caught her eye at that, and Andy could see her breathing quicken. She took hold of Brooke’s wrists and gently pinned her against the fridge. “I need to eat something,” she complained.
Brooke bit her lip as Andy nibbled along her collarbone and then moved up toward her mouth, sliding her body up along Brooke’s. She hesitated, their lips almost touching, and looked questioningly into those icy blue eyes. Brooke made the first move, closing the gap between them and kissing Andy. Andy responded with all the pent-up need she had been feeling.
“Time for dessert already?” David’s jocular voice broke through their deepening kiss. “I just came in to find out what was keeping the appetizers, but maybe I should knock next time,” he continued, picking up two of the refilled plates. “You have a sticky note in your hair,” he whispered to Brooke before he walked out laughing.
