September Canvas

by Gun Brooke

  “What?” Faythe blinked twice. “Where…?” She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “Oh, uh, I envision myself writing. A novelist, a freelancer…you know. Not TV, or at least not as much. I hope I’m still living in Manhattan. I love my condo.” Deanna went cold. She had asked the question hastily—too hastily, she admitted. Catching Faythe off guard was not a good idea, never was, Deanna admitted to herself. Despite her warm, upbeat manner, Faythe was intensely private, and Deanna was only now beginning to comprehend just how conflicted Faythe was about herself.

  “So, back to the core of writing, pen on paper, fingers on keyboard. What do you want to write?” Deanna wanted to keep Faythe talking before she clammed up.

  “That’s another question, for another bottle spin.”

  “Ah, but this is a multipurpose kind of question.”

  “Oh, really.” Sarcasm oozed from the single word.

  “Yes.”

  Faythe glared at her for long seconds, then made a big production of rolling her eyes. “Very well, if you insist. I’ve always loved reading memoirs and autobiographies and interviewing someone interesting, but going much deeper than the time frame my morning show allowed. I’ve wished I could dedicate the whole show to a lot of my interviewees, or several shows, like a series. They had so much to tell, lived such interesting, amazing lives.”

  “You’d be great at it,” Pammie said. “That’s what I liked best about your show, when you interviewed your guests. Nothing annoyed me more than when you had to interrupt them and go to commercial.”

  “I know.” Faythe made a wry face. “Me too.”

  “And in a book you’d tell the story of the person you’re writing about, uninterrupted.” Savannah nodded. “Who or what kind of person would you write about first?”

  Suddenly they forgot about the game they’d been playing, and Deanna listened carefully as Faythe talked about her dreams. Faythe’s voice changed when she outlined a new life, one where she was in charge of her own future, doing what she loved to do rather than what others expected.

  “If I can’t do something I like, with quality in mind rather than celebrity and popularity, then what’s the use?” Faythe said wistfully. “I can’t picture myself doing the morning show anymore.”

  “I never would’ve guessed that your job wasn’t the dream job.” Savannah leaned her head on Pammie’s shoulder. Pammie kissed the top of her head. “I mean, working on TV and all.”

  “Yeah, I used to think so too. And I won’t lie. Some aspects of it are fascinating. You’re in a world that can be glamorous and magical. The hours are grueling, but I got so fed up with my colleagues who complained endlessly. For heaven’s sake, they should’ve tried working nights at a nursing home, or early mornings as a garbage collector downtown!” Frowning, Faythe shook her head. “You’d think what we did was brain surgery the way they carried on. People need to take pride in what they do, but they have to keep a healthy perspective.”

  “I agree.” Deanna wanted Faythe to know she understood. “Take Miranda’s teachers and caregivers, for instance. They work tirelessly for these kids, to provide an education and a good life for them, while they’re at the school. For some of the students this is their only quality interaction with other people. Their parents are ignorant, overwhelmed, or sometimes even fed up. So that’s why some jobs, like mine, seem… well, I wouldn’t say less important, but—”

  “Because you’d be wrong.” Faythe took Deanna’s hands. “I figured this out for myself after working in the entertainment industry a few years. I was starting to beat myself down because it was so superficial. Then I was reading a really good mystery novel, which took me away to dark alleys in another era and made me forget about several things in my life that were bothering me. When I finished reading, I felt refreshed and rested in a way that a night’s sleep couldn’t match. I had recharged my batteries, so to speak, thanks to this book, and ultimately thanks to the author.” Faythe’s soft expression made Deanna lean forward to kiss her before she remembered they weren’t alone. Faythe clearly understood and the same desire showed in her darkening eyes. “So, you illustrate these incredible books for kids and adults, and you take them on a journey to some magical place, or a scary place, or…well, anywhere you can imagine.”

  “And you provide much-needed relief from reality.” Pammie nodded enthusiastically. “You make it possible for brain surgeons, or social workers, or soldiers, to relax a bit and find the strength to go on one more hour, one more day.”

  “Exactly.” Faythe beamed. “That’s exactly it. I’m not on leave because my job is unimportant or it’s beneath me to work on a morning show. That’s not it at all.” She sounded almost surprised, as if this was a revelation to her as well. “I need to change paths for me, because I need to do what’s right for my own sake.”

  “Glad you figured it out.” Deanna kissed Faythe softly on the lips. “And you’re right, of course. About a lot of things.”

  “Thanks.” Faythe had never looked so inviting, and she seemed completely relaxed. “It’s time to hit the sack. It’s late.”

  “No more spinning bottles?” Pammie looked disappointed.

  “Maybe some other time?”

  “Sure,” Deanna said. “It was kind of fun.”

  “Fun and enlightening,” Savannah said, and winked at Pammie, who looked suddenly flustered.

  The candles had burned almost all the way down, and as they blew them out and stood to go to bed, Deanna detected traces of a new confidence in Savannah. She didn’t take her eyes off Pammie, and perhaps being in the presence of Faythe and Deanna made her comfortable enough to let her feelings surface, at least momentarily.

  If anyone had told me this morning that I’d feel protective about that kid, I’d have said they’d lost their last marble. Deanna sighed. She still felt conflicts, but at least they’d resolved one matter. Knowing that Savannah hadn’t intended to be malicious was a huge step.

  “You okay?” Faythe asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Ready for bed? I mean together?” Shifting from one foot to the other, Faythe looked completely vulnerable.

  “Absolutely.”

  Faythe laughed, a relieved, breathless sound. “All right, then.” She walked ahead of Deanna to the master bedroom. When she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes were glossy from withheld tears. Faythe obviously hadn’t been sure Deanna would say yes.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Faythe placed the last dirty plate in the dishwasher, added detergent, and started it, glad they had power again. She wasn’t thinking about the chore, though, but the previous evening. She concentrated on the silly game they’d played, because if she lingered too much on the night of passion she’d shared with Deanna, she’d lose her focus.

  Faythe shook her head at herself for having indulged in such adolescent behavior, but it had been fun. Revealing and fun, she corrected herself. Deanna’s question had really made her think in order to verbalize her wishes and tentative plans for the future. Her emotions had been and she’d felt raw ever since, especially regarding Deanna.

  Faythe had sneaked out of bed before Deanna woke this morning, even if all she wanted was to kiss her lover awake. She was afraid of how quickly Deanna had come to mean so much to her. Too much.

  Faythe set the coffee machine to make a triple espresso latte. She had known since college that she wasn’t cut out to be in a long-term relationship. Her parents had demonstrated why this was not in the cards for her. The utter irony of their behavior after the divorce seemed to completely elude them. Great gene pool. Either a fake or a hoax.

  Faythe took the mug of coffee and grabbed a cashmere blanket from the couch on her way out the door and onto the deck.

  The morning air was crisp and clear, mist hung over the lake like a layer of cotton candy. Faythe curled up on one of the deck chairs, wrapping the blanket around herself. She sipped her coffee slowly, inhaling the aroma. It rejuvenated her more than this,
but it still tasted great. I suppose I’m tired after last night. Faythe’s cheeks warmed. She had turned to Deanna several times during the night, needing to feel her body against her own, over and over. Deanna in turn seemed to have to exorcise a few demons of her own, the way she passionately and determinedly made love to Faythe. They didn’t say much during the lovemaking, or afterward.

  Instead Faythe had clung to Deanna, suddenly needy in a way totally alien to her. She hoped Deanna hadn’t noticed just how desperate she felt during those moments. Deanna had simply held her and allowed Faythe to hug and nuzzle her as much as she wanted. And unless she was reading more into Deanna’s response than was actually there, Deanna seemed to like it.

  “Good morning. You’re up early.” The sound of Pammie’s voice made Faythe nearly drop her mug. “Whoops. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Faythe moved, about to rise, when Savannah, who stood next to Pammie, stopped her. “No, no. Don’t get up. We’re on our way to work.”

  “You’ll need some breakfast.”

  “We’re grabbing some at Dixon’s.” Pammie took Savannah’s hand. “Our first date,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Goofball.” Savannah bumped Pammie with her hip. “Anyway, we wanted to thank you for putting us up…and for putting up with us. Having us here nearly screwed things up for you and Deanna.”

  “True,” Faythe said, smiling wryly. “And still, look at how many topics we covered yesterday. Communication, my friends, is what it’s all about.” Ha. I should talk. She managed to keep her friendly, easygoing smile intact. “When will we see either of you again?”

  “Sure you want us to come back?” Pammie looked genuinely surprised. “I mean, we’re kind of trouble, especially this one.” She tugged at Savannah’s braid, which earned her a haughty glare.

  “Of course I do. Not only because we still need to resolve some things, but because we’re becoming friends.” Pammie and Savannah looked speechless for a few moments.

  “Really? Wow.” Pammie grinned. “I was thinking that yesterday when we played that game. I kind of forgot everything about age difference and stuff.”

  “So did I.” Faythe returned the smile. “You have my cell phone number, so let’s call each other in a few days, all right?”

  “Sure thing. See you later.” Pammie began to walk toward her car. Savannah turned to follow her, but suddenly wheeled around and hugged Faythe tight.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “Hey, kid, it’s all right.” Startled, Faythe held on to her. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine, even. You’ve taken the first steps, and that’s always the hardest.”

  “If not for you—”

  “If not for Pammie,” Faythe corrected softly. “This was all her doing. Don’t lose sight of her. She’s a keeper.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Savannah pulled back. “Say hi to Deanna for us. Sorry we missed her this morning.” In fact, Savannah looked relieved. Perhaps it was a good thing Deanna was still asleep.

  “I’ll tell her.”

  The girls drove off and Faythe returned to her deck chair after making another mug of triple espresso. Sipping it, she enjoyed the way it warmed her belly. Nothing like a mug of coffee in the morning, she mused. Well, almost, she corrected herself with a chuckle, thinking of the hot embraces she’d shared with Deanna during the night. They didn’t compare to anything else she’d ever experienced. Her former lovers, few and far between, had been nice, most of them, but that was it. Nobody could ever come close to Deanna. It wasn’t just the physical aspect, either; it was the whole package.

  Am I falling in love? Faythe’s heart plunged, and she knew this was what she feared the most. In her experience, relationships had a best-before date, and after that date, they went sour or ceased to exist.

  Faythe had always made sure she never went past this date, never got involved with anyone on a deeper level. It hadn’t been hard to stick to the policy before she met Deanna. Now she was trying to estimate how long she had before the best-before date occurred.

  “You look like you’re trying to solve something on a Nobel Prize level. What might that be?” A throaty voice startled Faythe out of her reverie and she almost lost her grip on her mug.

  “Hey, watch it, darling,” Deanna said, and caught the mug before it fell. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Thought you heard me.”

  “I didn’t.” Faythe accepted the mug back and carefully placed it on the small table beside her. “Sleep well?”

  “Like a baby. You? Been up long?”

  “A while. Said good-bye to the girls. They’re off to work. They said to say hi.”

  “Oh. I see.” Deanna looked disappointed.

  “They promised to come back to see us in a few days.”

  “Good.” Deanna brightened. “I never thought I’d say this, but I really like them. Savannah sure isn’t the devil in disguise that I thought she was.”

  “No, her mother, the queen bee, has obviously filled that part.”

  “She’s a piece of—” Deanna bit off an apparent profanity and shrugged. “Poor Savannah. She’s figuring her mother’s actions out as we speak, which has to be worse than what happened to me.”

  “Not sure if it’s worse, but bad enough,” Faythe said. “Want some breakfast?”

  “I’ll just grab something and go back to work. I have some editing of Bunny Buttercup to do.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind cooking. Pancakes?”

  “Nah, that’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ll have some Cheerios. And some of that coffee.” Deanna kissed Faythe quickly and walked back to the house.

  “Want company?” Faythe regretted the words as soon as they were over her lips, certain she sounded clingy. Hoping Deanna hadn’t heard her, she turned away from the house and stared at the water where the mist was leaving. She had work to do to, even if she wasn’t under any pressure to keep a deadline. She should just pull out her laptop and not bother Deanna when she had stuff to do.

  “Always,” Deanna said, suddenly back at her side, startling her for the second time this morning. “You never need to ask that.” She buried her face against Faythe’s neck and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Nice.” A gentle flame of happiness glowed in the center of Faythe’s rib cage. It permeated her bloodstream and carried elation, and, she confessed, relief, throughout her system. “Two cereals and two coffees, one laptop and your illustrations. Think we can manage to work in the same room?”

  “It’s well worth a try, darling.” Deanna’s voice sank an octave. “If you don’t behave, I have ways of punishing you that will be mutually satisfactory.”

  Internal snapshots of Deanna punishing her in delicious ways flickered through Faythe’s mind and she shivered in anticipation.

  “That’s not exactly a deterrent, you know,” she murmured.

  “No?” Deanna allowed Faythe to turn around in her arms. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe I’d like you to occasionally be a bad girl.” She winked.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Faythe said, her voice a low purr, “you have no idea how bad I can be.” She slid her hands up Deanna’s chest. “You might just have to be very inventive when it comes to dealing with me.” Deanna threw her head back and laughed, a thoroughly happy sound. “Oh, Faythe, just when I think I have you pegged, you say stuff that completely throws me.”

  “So do you.” Faythe kissed Deanna lightly on the lips. “So, cereal. I haven’t had breakfast yet either.”

  “Okay, cereal it is.”

  “And coffee. I’m only on my second triple espresso and it’s gone cold. Again.”

  “And my girl likes it hot, huh?” Deanna said innocently.

  Faythe glanced quickly at her, knowing she’d see the familiar little devilish sparkles in Deanna’s eyes. Suddenly she realized what Deanna had said. Surely it was a slip of her tongue, part of the teasing?

  She knew so well how Faythe felt about things and there was no reason for he
r to call Faythe “my girl.”

  * * *

  Deanna put the pencil down and rested her chin in her hand. She’d worked nonstop for four hours without realizing how had time passed.

  This was normal for her work flow, and she wasn’t tired at all. She had stopped adding more of the mushroom houses in Bunny Buttercup’s forest only because Faythe’s cell phone had rung and pulled her out of her creative zone.

  She wasn’t deliberately listening in. Faythe was sitting over by the fireplace in a La-Z-Boy recliner with her laptop propped up on an elaborate tray-cushion with built-in cooling fans. Deanna had placed her desktop easel on the dining table over by the window.

  “Hello?” Faythe answered the phone in a preoccupied tone of voice. “Oh. Ben. Hi.” Faythe sat up, pushing the tray to the side.

  She became completely rigidness and tugged at her low ponytail; in fact, kept yanking at it in sharp little jerks. “Yes, I have given it some thought. I said I would.”

  Deanna waited a few moments to see if Faythe would leave the room to talk in private, but when she didn’t, Deanna decided she could use another cup of coffee. If I drink any more of that stuff today, I’ll be swinging between the maple trees by the evening.

  “I said I would think about it, Ben, not do as you ordered.” Faythe grabbed a fistful of Deanna’s flannel shirt as she passed, stopping her.

  “Listen. I don’t know why you keep insisting that I continue to work in a field that isn’t making me happy. What possible motive could you have?” Shadows filled Faythe’s eyes, making them almost black.

  Deanna instinctively sat down on the love seat and pulled Faythe down onto her lap.

  “Selfish?” Faythe swallowed. “You’re calling me selfish, Ben?” Furious, and not waiting to consider if she was doing the right thing, Deanna grabbed the cell phone and quickly found the button for the speaker phone.

  “…all the years I stayed in a loveless marriage for you. You would think that would count for something, but here you go throwing your career away for a whim, without any concern for me, who put you through college.” The baritone voice belonging to Faythe’s father came through loud and clear. Faythe didn’t try to retrieve the phone.