“I know how that turns you on.”
“It’s something we have in common.” Carly resisted the urge to give in to Leeann’s teasing and admit that she wished this was a date. That was far too personal and touched on feelings that Carly didn’t know how to deal with yet. “Look, I don’t have a lot of friends up here. I thought it might be nice to have one. And Ray looked like she might need one, too.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” The sudden change in Leeann’s tone told Carly she knew she’d gone too far. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I swear.”
“Not trying, but doing a damn fine job regardless.” Carly decided that the house was as clean as it needed to be. On to dinner. “But I know you push because you care about me.”
“I love you. And I hate to think of you up there all alone.”
“I’m hardly alone.” As if on cue, Jack trotted to Carly’s side as she walked into the kitchen. His allergy diet had made him a regular scavenger. “My good buddy Jack keeps me company. And he lets me watch whatever I want on TV.”
“You know I love Jack,” Leeann said, still serious. “But a dog can never give you some things. I worry about you, Carly.”
“Well, don’t. I’ve been dating.”
“You’ve been coming to the city to fuck random women in bars. That’s not exactly dating.”
“That’s what you call it when you’re the one doing the fucking.”
Leeann snorted. “That’s different. We’re different.”
That’s why they had broken up back in college. Because Carly was ready to settle down and Leeann didn’t want to stop playing. Twelve years later, Leeann still seemed content with casual encounters. And Carly never felt quite right about her couple of one-night stands.
“You’re right,” Carly said quietly. “We are different. And don’t think I don’t want to fall in love again, Leeann. It’s just…still so fresh in many ways.” Maybe that was why she was torturing herself by pursuing a platonic friendship with an unavailable basket case whom she just happened to find devastatingly attractive. Maybe it felt safer than finding someone who could return her feelings. Carly groaned, touching her forehead against the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Okay, you’re right. I do find Ray McKenna attractive. But this is definitely not a date.”
“Oh, Carly,” Leeann murmured in an uncharacteristically sad voice. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“I’m not.” Inhaling deeply, Carly stood and threw her shoulders back. “I’m not,” she said again. “I can be friends with a woman I find attractive, right? It doesn’t have to lead anywhere.”
“Well, you’re friends with me. But then you’ve already sampled these goods.”
“Me and half the women in San Francisco.”
“Seriously, Carly, be careful.”
“I will.” Carly already regretted that she’d let slip as much as she had. “It’s not like I’m ready for a relationship, anyway.” The words came easily, but she knew deep down, she was ready to love someone again. She just needed to remember that it wouldn’t be Ray McKenna.
*
Ray had the kind of stomachache that made her wish she was curled up in bed. Or snuggled under a blanket on the couch, watching The Golden Girls. Or pretty much anywhere but on Carly Warner’s front porch. Anxiety had been building since she accepted this dinner invitation, and now that she was poised to ring Carly’s doorbell, she was sure she’d throw up.
Some part of her knew that when she rang the bell, she would be able to stop worrying about whether she would be able to go through with this. Another challenge would await—making small talk—but at least this first step would be over. Maybe the nausea would recede.
Goddamned ridiculous, Ray scolded herself. She dropped Jagger’s leash and rested her hand on his head. Dr. Evans would tell her not to beat herself up for her anxiety, that she needed to nurture the scared inner child. She used to be skeptical about that type of advice, but lately she was trying to pay attention to her reaction to her own fears. These things were hard enough without self-flagellation.
Jagger leaned against her, forcing Ray to widen her stance and brace herself against his incredible weight. It was lucky she was relatively able-bodied. He would be a terrible therapy dog for someone who had worse physical problems than her own slight limp.
“Okay,” Ray murmured under her breath. “Everything will be okay.” I am the master of my fate. Without giving herself time to change her mind, she rang the bell.
Ray’s anxiety reached a sickening crescendo as she listened to soft footfalls approach the door. This was it. It was really happening. Social interaction. Dr. Evans had been thrilled, of course. Beneath all the fear, so was Ray.
Carly smiled when she opened the door, and her expression seemed to brighten as she met Ray’s eyes. “Hey there.”
“Hello.” Ray cursed how quietly her voice came out. “You have a beautiful house.” In truth, she’d been too nervous to really notice. But it was something to say.
“Thank you. Come inside and see the rest of it.” Carly stepped back and gestured for Ray to enter.
With a deep breath, Ray walked inside. Jagger stayed close to her, lending her much-needed strength. Carly patted his chest as he lumbered past, then closed the door behind them. Ray’s stomach flip-flopped at being enclosed in an unfamiliar place, but one look at Carly’s face helped bring her into the present.
“Were my directions okay?” Carly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans. “I know it’s not the easiest place to find.”
“I have a GPS,” Ray said. She didn’t leave getting lost to chance. “Led me straight here.”
“Great.” Laughing, Carly nodded at Jack, who was wagging madly as he sniffed Jagger. To Ray’s surprise, Jagger’s tail began to wag nearly as hard. “Jack hasn’t been able to stop talking about how excited he is about Jagger coming over.”
Ray chuckled, already feeling the knot of tension in her stomach ease. “Jagger tried to play it cool, but I could tell that he was pretty geeked about it.”
“I’m also glad you’re here.” Carly took her hands out of her pockets and folded them over her stomach, rocking back on her heels. With some surprise, Ray recognized it as a nervous gesture. “For the record.”
“Me, too.” Remembering the bottle she held in her hand, Ray offered it to Carly. “It’s just sparkling grape juice. I know we’re in wine country, but I don’t really drink.”
Carly took the bottle, eyeing the label warmly. “Perfect. I’ve learned to enjoy wine since moving here, but I’d be lying if I said that sparkling juice wasn’t a hell of a lot tastier. Why don’t we go into the kitchen and pour a couple of glasses? Dinner’s almost ready.”
Ray followed Carly deeper into her home, surreptitiously glancing into open doorways as they passed, scanning a bathroom, then a sitting room. Evaluating. It was habit now, even in her own home. Having Jagger near had lessened her paranoia about being caught unawares, but the compulsion to check for unknown danger still lingered. Carly’s home was clean and tastefully decorated, cozy, the kind of place where Ray could imagine being comfortable hanging out. If dinner went well, that is.
When they walked into the kitchen, a pleasant aroma made Ray glad to have rung the doorbell. It had been a long time since her last home-cooked meal. She was more likely to take it from the freezer and throw it into the microwave. Somehow those frozen delicacies never smelled so heavenly.
“Just a disclaimer,” Carly said. “I’m not exactly the world’s best cook.”
“Well, something smells delicious.” Ray walked around the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area, settling onto a tall stool. “And as long as we’re making disclaimers, I should warn you that I’m not the world’s best conversationalist.”
“You’re just fine.” Looking pleased, Carly cracked open the bottle of sparkling juice. “And thank you. I hope the taste does the smell justice.”
“I’m sure it
will.” Hearing a commotion, Ray glanced behind her and saw Jack facing Jagger, chest practically touching the floor. His butt stuck up in the air, tail wagging even more frantically. Laughing, she said, “What is Jack doing?”
Carly glanced around the bar as she poured a glass. “That’s a play bow. He’s inviting Jagger to play.”
Charmed by Jack’s enthusiasm, Ray looked at her own dog, who dwarfed the brown mutt. Jagger’s tail was wagging too, but he remained fairly calm, glancing up at Ray’s face from time to time. Had Jagger played with other dogs before Ray got him? Probably, Ray reasoned. She was sure the therapy-dog facility would have made sure he was socialized. So why wasn’t he taking the invitation?
“Go ahead, Jagger,” Ray said. Jagger looked at Jack, then back to her. Was he not playing because he was on duty, still working? Eager to see Jagger interact with his new friend, she said, “Release.”
As though that was exactly what he had been waiting for, Jagger immediately sprang into action. Dropping into an identical play bow, he allowed Jack to jump onto him. At once, they were sparring like they had done it a thousand times. To her amazement, Jagger “talked” the whole time, not quite barking, not quite growling. Just vocalizing in a way Ray had never heard. The excited noises made them both laugh, Ray catching Carly’s gaze so they could share a smile. Entranced, Ray returned her attention to the dogs and watched until they tumbled into her bar stool enthusiastically.
“Boys! Try not to tear the house apart,” Carly said, though her admonishment was full of humor. “What do you say we let them play in the backyard for a bit? They’ll have more room, and we’ll be able to hear each other.”
After a slight hesitation, Ray said, “Sure. I’ll let them out.” Having Jagger at her side made her feel more confident, but she could hardly deny him the joy that playing with Jack was clearly bringing him. Nothing had made her feel happier in quite some time.
“The sliding door is just through the den,” Carly said, pointing behind Ray. “I’ll have dinner out of the oven by the time you get back.”
“Come on, guys,” Ray said as she stood, and to her amazement, the dogs broke from playing so they could follow her. She led them through the dining area into the den, sidestepping their clumsy attempts to stay next to one another. “Good grief,” she murmured. They were a force of nature.
Opening the slider, Ray observed Carly’s backyard. She had a fair amount of space, which was filled with what looked like obstacle-course equipment. Jack tore across the yard and jumped through a hoop suspended from a wooden frame, then ran back to Jagger before dropping into another play bow. She would have to ask Carly what that was all about.
Ray took her time returning to the kitchen, not only because she was slightly nervous about the prospect of making conversation, but also so she could check out the den without Carly watching her. A big-screen television in one corner was surrounded by various electronics. She saw a DVD player, what was probably a DVR, and, to her surprise, what appeared to be a video game console. She wouldn’t have pegged Carly as a video game player.
An overstuffed dog bed sat next to the leather couch that faced the television. In front of the couch was a coffee table loaded with remote controls and a game controller. So Carly really was a gamer. A cabinet full of DVDs—probably some games, too—sat next to a fireplace against the wall.
Ray fantasized briefly about becoming friends with Carly. Maybe she would come over to watch movies. They could make popcorn and stay up late talking and laughing. Ray used to do stuff like that with friends, before Iraq. She’d taken it for granted that she never would again, but perhaps she could once more enjoy something so painfully normal as movie night.
Ray started to return to the kitchen when a framed photograph on an end table caught her eye. Telling herself not to be nosy, she tried to move past it without looking, but when she saw that it was of two people embracing, she stopped. Curiosity drew her to the picture, and she picked it up to study it further.
Carly and a brown-skinned woman with dark, flowing hair stood in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, bundled up in sweaters, wrapped in an intimate embrace. The woman was kissing Carly on the cheek while Carly laughed, open-mouthed. Ray’s heart beat faster as she tried to decide what she was looking at.
“Hey,” Carly said quietly, startling Ray into nearly dropping the picture. She stood in the doorway, watching. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”
“I’m sorry.” Fumbling, Ray returned the photo to the table. “I, uh…I was just—”
“It’s okay. If you’re ready to eat, dinner’s on the table.”
“Sounds great,” Ray said quickly. Embarrassed to have been caught snooping, she resolved to be a normal person for the rest of the evening. This was hardly the way to make a friend.
She followed Carly into the dining area, impressed that the table was set and a casserole dish full of delicious-smelling pasta sat in the center. Next to it was a bowl of what looked like Caesar salad. A wineglass full of sparkling juice sat in front of each place setting. “Wow, this looks wonderful.”
“It’s roasted vegetable pasta. I hope you like that kind of thing.”
“I’m sure I will.” Ray waited until Carly pulled out a chair, then sat down opposite her. “You really went all out.”
“I usually just microwave my dinner,” Carly said as she dished out a portion of the steaming, cheesy pasta onto her plate. “But I figured this was a special occasion.”
“I’m a microwave chef, too.”
“Jack enjoyed the change. He kept sneaking into the kitchen, determined to hoover up all the goodies I dropped.”
“I’ll bet,” Ray said as she spooned out a generous portion of the pasta. Part of her felt awkward about eating in front of Carly, but the other part of her, which felt almost faint at how good everything looked, was willing to get over it. “If he’s half the chowhound Jagger is, I can only imagine how hard it would be to keep him away from a meal like this.”
Rounding out her plate with a pile of salad, Ray blew on a forkful of pasta, then took a bite. It was as wonderful as it looked and smelled, and she vocalized her approval with a soft noise that clearly made Carly happy.
“Good?”
Blushing, Ray nodded and took another bite. “This is the best meal I’ve had in three years.”
Carly looked down at her plate. “I’m so glad.”
Grateful that she had something to do with her mouth besides talk, Ray ate in silence. To her relief, Carly focused on her own meal and didn’t try to force conversation. Occasionally their gazes would meet and Carly would smile, but Ray was surprised to find that she didn’t feel uncomfortable. She appreciated that Carly didn’t seem to be full of the questions she had gotten used to hearing from everyone else she met. She almost wanted to talk, if only because nobody was trying to make her.
Noticing Carly’s empty glass, Ray picked up the bottle. “Would you like some more?”
“Sure.” Carly watched her face as she poured. “Thank you.”
Emptying the rest into her own glass, Ray said, “I should have brought another. I love this stuff.”
“It goes really well with the meal.”
Ray set down the bottle. “I was diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder about a year and a half ago. A lot of people with PTSD use alcohol to try and cope, so I decided not to touch the stuff. Becoming an alcoholic is, like, the last thing I need on top of everything else. You know?”
“I do.” Meeting Ray’s gaze, Carly said, “I think that’s an incredibly strong position. Good for you.”
“Thanks.” The disclosure left Ray feeling exposed, and despite being painfully full, she served herself a little more pasta so she would have something to do with her hands. She might have chosen not to abuse alcohol, but overeating was a whole other matter. “I don’t know if it’s particularly strong, but I know that I’m screwed up enough without that.”
“It’s hard to be so clearheaded when you’re in pain,
” Carly said, as though she were speaking from experience. “To be able to make smart choices for yourself even in the midst of that kind of suffering is absolutely a sign of strength.”
“I’m doing a lot better now, honestly. To tell you the truth, Jagger has been a godsend. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Carly’s face lit up. “I know exactly what you mean. Jack has been the same for me. Life would be pretty grim if it weren’t for him.”
Carly was definitely speaking from a place of experience. By now Ray’s curiosity was fully piqued, but she refrained from asking the obvious question. No matter how much she wanted to know what kind of pain Carly had gone through, she knew how upsetting it was for strangers to pry into her own life. She didn’t want to put Carly on the spot.
Carly placed her fork on her plate and cleared her throat. “I lost my partner in a car accident five years ago. Nadia, the woman in the picture you were looking at. We’d just found out she was pregnant. In fact, she was on her way to meet me so we could celebrate.”
Rocked by the revelation, Ray set down her own fork. “I’m sorry.”
“I adopted Jack from the shelter six months later. I was beyond depressed, had just moved to Bodega Bay. He absolutely helped turn my life around. Dogs are incredible friends.”
Ray nodded, still trying to process Carly’s words. The thought that Carly could be a lesbian had crossed her mind when she’d seen the picture in the den. But she’d tried to dismiss it because she didn’t want to believe it was true. As much as she didn’t want to let Carly see her struggle with this reaction, Ray was shaken.
“So you’re…?” Ray couldn’t bring herself to come right out and say it. She waved her hand, hoping Carly understood what she was trying to ask.
“A lesbian? Yes, I am.”
Was this why Carly had invited her to dinner? Were they supposed to be on a date? A seed of anxiety took root in Ray’s stomach, threatening to bloom into full-blown panic. After five years in the army, she was well conditioned to want to distance herself from even the suggestion of lesbianism. And she certainly wasn’t comfortable with being hit on. Suddenly this whole thing felt like a big mistake.
Battle Scars Page 5
