by Yvonne Heidt
“Please don’t go,” Van said. “I’m sorry for that. I can explain.”
Natalie stared at her standing there with her hands in her pockets. Every reasonable voice in her head was telling her to run. But it was her heart that saw Van and the utterly vulnerable expression on her face. It was Natalie’s compassion that had her slowly lowering back into her chair. “What are we really doing here, Van?”
“Well, I’m hoping we are going to drink some good wine and have a nice dinner.”
“You know what I mean.” Natalie realized that while she had been an open book, the same wasn’t true for Van. “I don’t know much about you at all. Why is that?”
The waiter chose that moment to stop by. After he left, Van started to talk. “When I was twelve, my mother died. One minute she was fine and the next, she was gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Aneurism.”
Natalie covered Van’s hand with her own. “I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”
“It was. Dad did the best that he could. It couldn’t have been easy for him, losing his wife, running a business, raising a daughter on the razor edge of puberty. It helped having so many aunts willing to step in. I was in high school when I discovered I was much more interested in what the cheerleaders were doing than the guys on the football field. I loved everything about girls. The way this one walked and that one smelled. How they laughed and that one was soft and this one was…” She trailed off.
“I get the point,” Natalie interjected. “Go on.”
“In college, I was a bit of a dog.” Van grinned ruefully. “Then I met Cara.” Van’s voice broke a little. “And all the other women became invisible to me because she was everything, you know?”
Natalie didn’t, but she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. What would it be like to be the recipient of all that emotion? To know that you put that look on someone’s face of utter devotion? “Is Cara’s picture the one at your father’s house?”
Van nodded. “We were together for nearly eleven years before the cancer came and she died.”
Natalie felt her eyes fill with sympathy when she heard the pain behind the explanation.
“The last six years have been a little blurry. I drank; I drank a lot. I didn’t always know the names of the women I woke up next to, nor did I care to. I was empty.”
That, Natalie could understand. She wanted to comfort Van and perhaps take the obvious hurt away, because it was in her nature to do so. But still, there was that small voice in her head that told her to wait until she could trust Van. The waiter took away their half-empty plates, and Natalie excused herself to the bathroom where she had an argument with herself. On one hand, she wanted Van so much it made her dizzy. On the other, and this was the biggie, she didn’t want to be hurt again. She knew she would never be able to have a friends-with-benefits-type relationship; she wasn’t built that way emotionally. If only she’d slept with her that first night, because now, she wanted more, much more.
She was torn. Natalie knew she already had feelings for her. But was that because of Van or because of her own new beliefs?
Would it be realistic that any woman she was attracted to would make her feel this way? No, she continued to argue. Otherwise, she would have known she was a lesbian, right?
Enough. It was all too much. Natalie patted cold water on her face. And until she answered these questions and sorted it out, she wouldn’t be going home with Van. Natalie wanted her first time to be special. She would essentially be offering up her emotional virginity, and she wasn’t going to give it to someone she didn’t trust with her heart. She snapped her compact shut.
Van watched Natalie come out of the bathroom in her sexy blue dress and noticed the distant look on her face. For the first time, she was almost ashamed of the way she’d lived for the last six years. She wanted to reassure her that she was different, but she knew the words would only sound empty. Had she really just bared her soul? Van never talked about Cara. Ever. She’d held herself aloof for so long she was unsure of how to act with someone she cared about.
Van held her hand out and Natalie took it as they walked out. Van was relieved that she didn’t appear to have shut her completely out.
“I had a lovely time,” Natalie said politely.
The remark startled a laugh out of Van. “You did not.”
Natalie bumped her with her shoulder. “I got to know more about you.”
“What? That I was loose?” Van felt nauseated.
“That you’re loyal to those you love. That you had great losses in your life.”
They stopped by the truck and Natalie put her arms around Van. “And that you’re a slut puppy.”
Van froze. Natalie tilted her head back and gave her a half smile. “But that doesn’t necessarily change how I feel about you.”
“How do you feel about me, Natalie?” Van was surprised to realize that she wanted to know, that it mattered so much to her.
Natalie didn’t answer before she climbed in the truck. The ride home was silent and Van drove the distance and tried not to be nervous. “It’s a beautiful house, Natalie.”
“A beautiful haunted house.”
“Do you really like the pink?” Van realized she was stalling, but she’d blurted the question before thinking.
Natalie laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it, but the color does kind of look like Pepto-Bismol, doesn’t it?”
When they reached her front door, Natalie leaned against it. “I love spending time with you. I’ve enjoyed every moment.”
Van was worried this might be a kiss-off. “But?”
“But come here.” Natalie drew herself up to whisper after Van leaned. “When we make love?”
“Uh, huh. When.” Van felt a lump form in her throat.
“You’re going to scream my name and you will never forget it.”
The words went straight to Van’s core. “Uh.”
“Good night.” Natalie walked into her house and shut the door.
Hot damn. Van felt thunderstruck and sat on the porch for a few seconds to make sure her legs would carry her back to her truck.
*
Natalie changed her clothes and climbed the stairs to her studio. Her sketch hung on the wall behind the blank canvas. She felt pounded with sexual frustration; her muscles were tied in knots. She didn’t much like the feeling, and for the first time since the divorce, she admitted that Jason may have had a point. If this is what he’d felt—this hollow ache—she could almost feel sorry for him. Just because she felt steadier now and she could somewhat understand his behavior, didn’t mean that she forgave the betrayal. But she could perceive how it may have happened. It wasn’t as personal as she previously thought. Then she dismissed him from her mind and recalled the scene on the porch.
The look on Van’s face! The fact that she had unnerved her gave her a sense of pride, and a surge of sexual power rushed through Natalie. She put on her smock and looked for her palette to mix the paint she would need.
One drawer after another yielded nothing. They were gone. What the hell? She knew she’d unpacked them and put them in the cabinet. Natalie rubbed the chill on her arms. She refused to be afraid just as she knew she didn’t want to think that something paranormal was going on.
She was pissed off and that was better than afraid any day of the week. “I’ll just go and buy more paint tomorrow,” she said to the empty room. Natalie tilted her head and listened, but after hearing nothing and no reply, she went to her room.
The window was closed. She sniffed the air but detected nothing but the trace of perfume she’d put on earlier in the evening before her date. This was good, she thought. Now she could convince herself that her supplies went missing before the house cleansing. She was truly without any spirits. Maybe she could get a dog. A little one that would shower her with love and her home wouldn’t feel so empty.
She wouldn’t feel so alone.
*
Van shoved the receipts she had shuffle
d umpteen times to the side of her desk. She turned to the window and watched the rain fall.
God, she was confused. An image of Natalie underneath her, her long hair spread under and around her, had burned itself into her mind, and it was there every time she closed her eyes. Natalie had snuck around her defenses and knocked her flat on her ass right in the middle of a guilty puddle of uncertainty.
Every door she shut with a woman behind it in the last six years echoed in her mind. And the one that had been closed tightly for a very long time was unlocking. Talking about Cara last night turned the key.
Cara.
Van had just turned twenty-two and she and the rest of the softball team were celebrating their fifteen-run win at Lanie McCrath’s house. Groups formed on the front lawn and loud rock music spilled out the open doors and windows.
Annette was sitting next to her on the stone wall in the backyard and they were arguing good-naturedly about who could have what girl in attendance and whether they were gay or straight. They were everywhere that night, tall women, short women, voluptuous and thin. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, and everything in between, Van loved them all. Her androgynous beauty almost always guaranteed she never slept alone.
Van spotted a couple of sporty femme types sitting on the couch inside and stood to get a better look inside the glass door. They were from the opposing team they had just whupped and she told herself she should just go in and make them feel better for losing. After all, they still had a chance to score. She grinned and felt terribly clever for thinking of the line, then started to approach them.
“Leaving me for a blonde, Easton?”
“Absolutely, Chapowitz.”
Annette smiled and waved her on. “I’m sure I can find a big bad butch to take me home. Especially since I’m still wearing my shorts” She waved a hand over her shapely legs and indicated the uniform she was still wearing. “Go play.” Annette stood to walk toward another promising group of women.
“Wait.” Van grabbed her arm. There, by the sliding doors, was a tall girl with long dark hair she had never seen before. She was talking, and perfect white teeth glowed against the amber color of her skin. Her full breasts were outlined by a little white tank top that showed a strip of tanned stomach and the flash of a rhinestone piercing. Lips that were painted red pursed to kiss the cheek of the girl she was talking to.
Van’s heart stopped and she felt as if a hand clenched her stomach in a tight fist. Her world narrowed to a single glance that held this woman’s beauty in its center. “Who is that?” She pulled her gaze away to look to Annette for an answer.
“That, my friend, is Cara Martinez. New student, transferred from the East Coast. Would you like to meet her?”
Yes, she would, and they had been inseparable for ten years.
Van looked inside herself and found the places in her heart that had been filled with Cara and discovered they weren’t empty after all. There was a small pilot light burning, and the accelerant was a small, bubbly redhead.
Lust was something she could deal with very well and had over the last few years. She never went out of her way; women were just naturally drawn to her. What she couldn’t figure out today was why this woman and not any of those women?
Who was she kidding? This thing with Natalie meant something. She dialed her number. Van’s stomach was in anxious knots and she rubbed it absentmindedly when she got the busy signal. She tried three more times with the same result.
The cell phone subscriber you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time…
She tried the house phone again and it was still busy. Van realized she was being obsessive and tried to get a handle on it. She could go to the greenhouse and help, or work on a new fountain, something, to get her mind off Natalie.
Or she could drive up to her house. There was a work crew there. Natalie didn’t have to know that Van didn’t normally work with the initial clean up crew.
She wrote a note to her father, grabbed her truck keys, and went out the side door. When she arrived at Natalie’s house, Van took in the work being done. Mowers kicked clouds of dirt and loose debris as they pushed and jumped over the uneven terrain of the yard. Progress was slow, but the possibilities were beginning to show beneath the loose earth.
Van parked in the empty driveway in front of the garage. Natalie didn’t appear to be home. She felt some of her anxiety lessen. When she got out, she spotted the envelope on the front door with her name on it.
Inside was a key to the back door and a short note that Natalie wouldn’t be back until later in the afternoon. She was running into the city for painting supplies, but Van and her crew were welcome to use the restroom and help themselves to water or soda that was in the refrigerator.
Van was disappointed she wasn’t home but relieved that the note was friendly. Van couldn’t ever remember the last time she’d been insecure about anything. She mentally shook herself. This was ridiculous, this emotional ride she was on. She spotted Rick and he waved her over. That was better, she thought. Work was always a welcome distraction.
Van cut, dug, and marked out boundaries for the new landscaping design. She hardly noticed when the equipment became quiet but was aware when various trucks started and left. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that two hours had flown by. She crossed to where Rick was standing. “What’s going on?”
“The guys are taking a break and going somewhere to use the bathroom and grab something to eat. What can I get you?”
“What do you mean use the bathroom? I left the back door open so you all could use the downstairs one.”
“No offense, Van. None of the guys want to go into the house. It’s, well, you know.” He sheepishly looked at her. “So what can I get you?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” One look at his face told her he wasn’t. She started to ask but just shook her head. “Just get me whatever you’re having. Thanks.”
Van brushed the dirt off her hands and headed toward the back door. She would show these superstitious boys that there was nothing to be afraid of. She walked through the kitchen to the downstairs bathroom and shut the door. She had to admit though, her father’s story made her see the house in a new light. The old stories had a little more credence. But Natalie hadn’t talked about ghosts at all last night on their date.
When she was busy washing her hands, solid, heavy footsteps echoed from the second floor over Van’s head. She turned the water off so she could hear. Maybe she had been mistaken. Nope, there they were again, muffled through the ceiling.
Van was pissed. None of her crew had permission to be on the second floor, especially not exploring. She would fire the offender on the spot. “Who’s there?” she yelled.
No answer. She stood still for a moment. Nothing. Van climbed the stairs cautiously, hoping to catch the intruder. Icy fingers started tap dancing on her spine and the hair stood on the back of her neck. She froze when she heard a voice whisper.
“Get out.”
A door in the hallway behind her slammed shut, reverberating through the stillness like a gunshot.
Van turned slowly and tried to breathe past the lump in her throat. It was one thing to hear a story about ghosts and believe in spirits—in theory. But never having a personal experience before, she wasn’t prepared to deal with one.
Sunlight poured into the hallway from what appeared to be a guest room, but it did little to dispel the chill in the air. Van went to the master bedroom and tried to dismiss the whisper. She convinced herself that it was one of the guys messing with her. She was going to kick some major ass.
With the sound of her own ragged breathing in her ear, she inched her hand to the doorknob. Natalie’s bed was neatly made and the curtains open to the sunshine. She quickly searched the room and adjoining bathroom. Van backed out of the room and after a moment of apprehension, she closed the door behind her.
No one was hiding upstairs. Van felt a little foolish but still had to force herself from r
unning back outside. The last thing she was going to do was make an ass out of herself in front of the crew.
Rick met her at the back door. “There’s been an accident.”
*
After she left the emergency room, she told the crew to take the rest of the day off. Van hadn’t wanted to give them any more time to grumble about ghosts. She’d called her father earlier so he could fill out the proper forms for the company. One of the laborers had been working in the side yard clearing out brush when an object flew up under the mower and hit him in the head. Six hours and ten stitches later, he was sent home with some gnarly painkillers and instructions to rest for a few days.
The flying object was currently in the bed of her truck. Once she had brushed the dirt off of it, she saw that it was a beautiful old hairbrush, solid silver with a delicate etching of roses budding on a vine that wrapped around the solid handle. It was in excellent condition and Van saved it, along with a small traveling case found buried near the south wall of the house, to return to Natalie.
Van took a critical look at her own yard. Her grass was looking a little ragged around the edges and her flowers needed some attention. She had a reputation to uphold and she didn’t want to be like the proverbial carpenter whose house was never done or the mechanic who had four clunkers sitting in his yard.
Van spent the next couple of hours in her element, happily cutting, trimming, and deadheading various plants. After the lawn was mowed, she sat on her front porch and sipped a cold soda. Van closed her eyes to let the afternoon sun warm her face. As she relaxed, Natalie’s smiling face came to mind. It felt good to sit here and just be in the moment. She didn’t feel as if she was running away from anything. For the first time in many years, she was thinking of running to someone and she was filled with a sense of happy anticipation.
Perhaps she might fulfill the promise she’d made to Cara so long ago.
