Seneca Falls

by Jesse J. Thoma

  Synopsis

  Seneca King is alone in life, the pain of her past her only companion. The idyllic confines of the women's college Seneca attends prove more isolating than she imagined possible, and her scars, emotional and physical, deter everyone from getting close to her. Until she meets Dylan Walker. Dylan, a college senior, sees more to Seneca than the fragile body and tortured soul. Dylan is looking for something real in her life, not the unattainable expectations of her family, or the superficial friendships she thought would last a lifetime. There is nothing more real than Seneca King. Carefully, slowly, they begin a delicate courtship, helping each other learn the meaning of true love. But when her dark past once again steps out of the shadows, Seneca is dragged back into the world that broke her in the first place. Can Dylan and Seneca stand together to vanquish the past once and for all, or this time, will it end up breaking them both?

  Seneca Falls

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

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  Seneca Falls

  © 2014 By Jesse J. Thoma. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-097-3

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: April 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Victoria Oldham and Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  The Chase

  Seneca Falls

  Acknowledgments

  Writing for Bold Strokes is a wonderful thing. The community of authors, editors, and team members is second to none. That being said, a few special individuals deserve mention. As a writer, I would be nothing without Victoria Oldham. She is a wonderful editor, friend, and mentor even when I think I can hear her tearing her hair out across the pond. Cindy Cresap, thank you for trying so hard to make me get along with the comma. I’m a work in progress. Sheri, once again the cover is a work of art. Finally, the leadership Radclyffe provides makes her easy to follow.

  My family and friends are a wonderful support. I especially thank everyone who gave me such positive feedback after my first novel was published and encouraged me to keep writing. To tiny Mr. T, I could not ask for a more enthusiastic cheering section, but buddy, you should probably wait a few years to read Aunty’s book.

  And to my wife. Our life together is always my sweetest romance and my grandest adventure. Thanks will never be enough.

  Dedication

  For Alexis

  Love Rocks when we’re together

  Love Rocks, gonna love you forever

  Love’s got me rockin’ and I only wanna rock with you

  Prologue

  Seneca King stepped off the bus into a glorious New England fall day. The trees were just beginning to hint at the explosion of color that would draw tourists from all over the world in a month or so. The air was crisp and fresh and crackled with fall electricity. The slight breeze stirred her hair, and she smoothed it back to keep it from sticking up, which it occasionally did. She could see why people so easily called New England home. It was beautiful, and the small college campus was putting on a good welcome show. The old ivy-covered buildings were majestic, and the hint of a pond glimmered through the trees directly in front of her. The air contained a sense of mischief, and the buildings looked worn enough to convey that Sophia College wasn’t a stuffy Ivy League institution, no matter what ranking it received in U.S. News and World Report.

  Despite her best efforts to contain it, Seneca sighed. Maybe this place would finally feel like home, a concept so foreign she wasn’t even sure she would recognize the feeling. She adjusted the straps of her backpack over her shoulders, picked up her half empty duffle bag, and glanced at her campus map to locate the building that would be her home for the next four years. At Sophia, all students lived in small dorms called houses and dinner was served in dining rooms in each house. She would have preferred the anonymity of large, impersonal dorms and massive dining halls, but she was happy to have a chance at college, whatever the setup.

  Gingerly testing her damaged right leg, she was pleased to find she could bear more weight than she had expected after the long bus trip. She knew the wooden cane strapped securely to the handles of her duffle could help, but it also made her stand out, and she didn’t need that on her first day in town. It was convenient to ignore the fact that a bum leg and a cane strapped to her bag weren’t exactly standard-issue for college first years. She had made the mistake of calling herself a freshman, but was quickly corrected, they were all first years. There weren’t any men on campus, so there weren’t any freshmen. She could be walking through campus buck-ass nude with a party hat on singing a song about freshmen and people wouldn’t stare more than they did because of her bad leg. She set out purposefully across the small campus, trying to normalize her gait, refusing to acknowledge the pitying stares her limp elicited.

  She was tired of showing weakness and receiving everyone’s sympathy. Someone’s pity is the only reason I’m here, she thought angrily as she climbed the three brick steps and limped through the door of Razor House. She wasn’t stupid enough to throw away a wonderful opportunity when it was offered, though, and free tuition to one of the most prestigious women’s colleges in the country was too great a gift to throw away, despite her reservations about why her benefactor had offered her the scholarship. Not many positive relationships were built in a criminal courtroom, but this one was defying the odds. For now, at least.

  Once inside the dorm, she took a moment to appreciate her new home. The dark wood paneled walls were warm and comforting, and the books strewn around one corner of the large living room spoke of generations of women finding peace and companionship within the walls. The furniture was well kept but also lovingly worn around the edges. It was meant to be used, not admired.

  Seneca fell into the nearest chair for a moment, giving her aching leg a respite. Her pride often caused her more pain than was necessary. Trying not to limp made the pain almost overwhelming, but for the first time in two years, she wanted someone to see her first, not the damn limp. It was as if she was living with a more outgoing, repulsive twin and no one bothered to get to know her after encountering “the limp.”

  When the throbbing was back to a manageable level, she shuffled through her backpack to find the wrinkled letter with new student instructions and her dormitory room assignment. Fourth floor. Fantastic. And a roommate. College, what a fabulous idea.

  The climb up four flights of stairs took longer than she would have liked. She leaned heavily on the rail, but even so, she knew by the time she reached the top, her leg would be almost worthless. The charming old building would have looked even cuter with an elevator. Almost every limping step had brought offers to help with her bags by students shooting past her on the stairs, but she politely turned them down. When she reached the second floor, she stopped again to rest.

  “What floor are you on?”

  “What? Oh, fourth,” Seneca said.

  “Great, I’m going tha
t way. You keep the backpack. I’ll take this. My name’s Britt.” The woman extended a hand, shook Seneca’s, and started up the stairs with Seneca’s duffle bag before she could protest.

  Seneca didn’t like losing possession of her duffle bag, but walking the rest of the way up the stairs was much easier without it.

  When they reached the top, Seneca regained possession of her duffle and thanked Britt. “I’m Seneca. Thanks for that. I was close to being clocked with a sun dial.”

  “You’re welcome,” Britt said. “I like to wander around at move-in time. I get a little extra cardio helping carry stray bags. You looked like you had it all under control. I should be thanking you. I’ll see you around.”

  As soon as Britt was gone, Seneca found her room and collapsed onto one of the two single beds but almost immediately jumped up again. Sheets, shit, I forgot to get sheets. She grabbed for her backpack again and pulled out a tattered notebook. She found a blank page and wrote sheets on the top line. She added pillow and blanket/sweats under sheets. It depended on the price. She checked her wallet and grimaced at how little cash was there. A good bit of her money had been spent on the bus trip. Under blanket, she wrote job.

  It wasn’t long before her new roommate appeared.

  “Hi,” the young woman said, clearly trying to sound cheerful. She sounded terrified instead.

  “Hello, I’m Seneca King. I guess we’re going to be roommates.”

  The girl’s handshake was weak and limp-wristed like a floppy fish, but Seneca tried to keep an open mind. She’s young, she reminded herself. And you look like hell, and probably have the poor girl scared out of her mind. The girl bounced around the room, unpacking, and Seneca felt as though there were a world of difference between them, even though they probably weren’t all that far apart in age.

  Seneca was twenty-two, not a typical age for a college first year, but not exactly out of place, either. Even though it was tradition that all undergrads lived on campus all four years, Seneca had wanted to beg out and get an apartment downtown. When it became obvious that her scholarship wouldn’t cover off campus housing, she was forced to acquiesce, as there was no way she could afford an apartment on her own. She tried to snap herself out of grumpy old man mode and smiled at her roommate. Maybe they could be friends. Britt had seemed nice. Maybe everyone was like that.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  It always amazed her how other people felt it their business to inquire about her limp. People either uncomfortably ignored it, obviously waiting for Seneca to make a statement about the nature of her injury, or they flat-out asked. She debated her answer, knowing she had to live with the young woman for the next year. The truth didn’t always set you free, and often a boldface lie was best. However, she didn’t think lying to her roommate was the best way to start off their relationship, so she told the truth.

  “I was shot,” she said flatly, giving away none of the turmoil that was swelling in her gut or how hard it was to say the words at all.

  As expected, that was the end of the conversation. Her roommate suddenly had something very important to do across campus.

  Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter One

  One Year Later

  Seneca leaned against the back wall of the dimly lit bar and surveyed the crowd. The liberal Massachusetts town Sophia College resided in didn’t really need a gay bar, since almost all the nightspots catered to women, both gay and straight, but this dive on the edge of town was frequented mostly by locals and women not associated with the college. That was what Seneca counted on.

  Although technically a sophomore, she was taking far more than the required four classes a semester and was well ahead of her graduation schedule. The new academic year started in three days, and she was looking for a much needed stress reliever before she was immersed in her studies.

  She was a fairly frequent visitor to the bar, stopping by when loneliness outweighed her desire to avoid personal entanglements. In this crowded bar, she was all-powerful. The women watched her from the moment she walked in and tried all sorts of outrageous things to capture her attention for the evening. Even without the direct stares, she knew she was the center of attention. The bar provided her with another necessity, control. She dictated who took her home and also the rules by which their encounter would play out. Seneca offered the promise of a pleasurable night, but nothing more. There was no commitment, no phone calls the next day, and certainly no lingering conversation over coffee. It was strictly sex, no strings attached. In the bar, she became more than her usual awkward, introverted self. There, she was charming, witty, and charismatic, and she enjoyed that almost as much as the companionship. Although everyone knew her, they didn’t really know anything about her, and that was freeing. Everyone, including her, had one goal in mind during their interactions.

  Seneca surveyed the options for the evening, noticing more than a few previous conquests who looked willing for round two. However pleasurable, Seneca usually avoided choosing the same woman twice. There were too many complications involved, and although most of the women were okay with her not getting fully undressed on their first hookup, they tended to get upset when she wouldn’t take them off a second time. It was easier to find someone new. The arrangement didn’t always chase away the lingering demons or loneliness that Seneca had come to associate with living, but it provided an enticing way to pass the time. She enjoyed not only the other woman’s pleasure, but was also bolstered by being the one in control of the situation. She’d been the one without control in her past, and it would never happen again.

  Despite the many gazes on her, roaming over her body and trying to catch her fancy, Seneca was also aware of the unspoken resentment toward her. Although almost any woman in the room would gladly take her home, even the chosen ones wondered at her detached nature and unbending rules. She had gained a reputation as a playgirl, and some even went so far as to call her a jerk. Only the bartender, a woman named Suzy, seemed to see through her tough exterior. Seneca was pretty sure she stood up for her when the gossip reached critical mass. She had no idea why, but she appreciated it. As weird as it was, she needed this place.

  She studied the faces in the room and leaned heavily against the wall, willing her aching leg to stop its endless throbbing as she nursed her first beer. Her gaze finally fell on a group of women directly across from her, next to the bar. Facing her was an incredibly beautiful woman with shoulder-length wavy red hair and fiery green eyes. She was deliciously curvy, and Seneca felt the familiar twinge in her belly, and slightly further south, that always indicated the catch of the night.

  This time, however, the sexual twinge was accompanied by a pang of loneliness so acute, she almost turned to leave. As she caught the green eyes, she wondered what it would be like to be known, truly known, by the person behind the gaze, and that thought scared her more than she wanted to admit.

  *

  Dylan Walker couldn’t believe she had let her friends convince her to come to the one gay bar just off Sophia’s campus.

  She felt out of place, but that was true on campus these days as well. She had been back from her junior year abroad for less than a week but was starting to wonder if she would ever fit back in. Her time away had opened her eyes to a world she hadn’t ever imagined possible, and being back here, as wonderful as it was, felt claustrophobic. It didn’t help that the women she remembered as her closest friends now seemed ridiculous and shallow. They were currently prattling on about some hot mystery woman who frequented the bar.

  Dylan caught Gert’s eyes. Her best friend obviously wasn’t having a good time either. Gert nodded toward the door, clearly eager to find something else to do with the evening. Dylan agreed. No woman could possibly be hot enough to have to endure this crap. And even if she were, Jess, Viv, and Mary were acting like they were at the zoo, here to see an exotic animal. The whole thing was making her a little nauseous.

  She looked up from her Cosmo whe
n one of her friends elbowed her hard in the ribs.

  “Ow, what the—”

  She stopped mid-sentence, transfixed by the amazingly good-looking woman approaching her, her eyes clearly locked on Dylan. She had closely cropped brown hair; strong, angular features; and a tall, lean frame, accentuated by broad shoulders and a narrow waist, but her eyes were what Dylan couldn’t turn away from. There was invitation and desire, but also pain and fear. The fear surprised her. Maybe this woman was worth acting like a teenager at a pop concert after all.

  “That’s Seneca King,” Mary said. “She’s coming this way.”

  “No shit,” Gert said.

  The whole point of the evening, at least for a few of her friends, had been to catch the attention of Ms. Seneca King, and now that she was making her way toward them, the table was silent.

  “Your sudden, total silence isn’t weird at all,” Gert said. “Most groups of five women sit in silence at bars on Saturday night. Say something, you idiots.”

  Despite Dylan’s annoyance at her friends’ swooning, it was hard to take her eyes off Seneca. She exuded confidence and really was hot. As striking as she was, however, the obvious limp drew Dylan’s attention.

  “Ladies, good evening.” Seneca’s voice was charming and seductive. “Mind if I join you?”

  She took the time to greet each woman and shake her hand as they all hurriedly introduced themselves. Dylan felt like Seneca lingered a second longer over their handshake.

  “I’m Dylan.”

  “Like Bob,” Jess said, leaning forward to catch Seneca’s attention. Dylan shot her a nasty look, but Seneca smiled, almost tenderly.