Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  “I can pick out a dress for you, hon,” Megan says, “but no matter how much I tell you to be calm and collected, I know not even the words of the sibling you shared a womb with are strong enough to actually make you behave that way.”

  * * *

  I’m at Mary’s Café at ten thirty just so that I can arrange The Ledger’s promotional materials in a good way and—ah, who the heck am I kidding? I was falling apart with nerves at the office, kept checking my reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t keep my eyes off my watch. As luck would have it, I actually had a meeting scheduled this morning with a freelancer who regularly contributes articles to The Ledger about the surrounding towns, but I was quick to postpone that.

  Now I sit here drinking too much coffee, and I’m already such a naturally hyped-up person. Megan told me to take at least five deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth—before meeting Laura, so I do that. “Don’t think about anything,” Megan said. “Focus only on your breathing.” I try but find it to be the worst advice ever. As I inhale and exhale deeply, I find it impossible to clear my mind of thoughts. There’s always something jumping in. A promise I made to call back the mayor’s secretary about a feature. Something Megan said years ago about identical twins with identity issues. The tiny smile on Laura’s face when she agreed to meet me here.

  “Are you feeling unwell?” A voice comes from behind me. “Your breathing seems labored.”

  I nearly jump out of my seat, that’s how much Laura’s voice startles me. She’s at least fifteen minutes early. “I was, er, meditating,” I quickly say, hoping my cheeks won’t flush bright red.

  “Good for you,” Laura says. I don’t have to remember the smile she shot me yesterday because I’m looking straight at it. “I’m going to get a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?”

  “Sure. I could do with another cappuccino. Double shot. Mary knows.” My self-confidence is returning and I’m able to grin widely at Laura.

  She nods and heads to the counter. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans, a pristine white t-shirt of the type you can get at any chain store for under $5, and that brand new leather jacket I saw her wearing at the supermarket. She didn’t dress up then. Maybe she doesn’t do dressing up. I’ve certainly met a lesbian or two who refuse to cater to the male gaze by doing so and who consider wearing anything else than jeans a compromise they’re unwilling to make.

  “Mary said she’ll bring our beverages right over.” Laura sits next to me. “Do you meditate often? It’s part of my morning ritual these days. I find it a great help.”

  “No… My sister told me to take a few deep breaths to curb the worst of my full-on ways,” I blurt, as I mentally kick myself for never getting the hang of weighing my words before speaking them.

  “Your sister? Does she tell you that before every meeting?” Laura asks.

  Our eyes meet and I burst into a nervous giggle. Then I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Here you go, ladies.” Mary deposits a cup of tea and a cup of coffee on the table. “Enjoy.” She winks at me, which doesn’t help with keeping myself calm.

  “Which kind did you get?” I try to change the subject, because I don’t know anything about meditation—though I make a mental note to do some research on the topic later—and I don’t want to delve deeper into the reason Megan made me breathe so heavily in public.

  “Just green jasmine.” Laura holds her cup up to her mouth and blows on the hot liquid.

  “Not a coffee girl?”

  “Nope. No coffee, no dairy, and no alcohol.”

  My eyes grow wide, then I decide to counter. “Tea has caffeine too.”

  “True, but it has a different effect on the body. The double shot you ordered is going to hit you straight away, whereas this cup of tea is going to have a slow, more lingering effect. Plus, green tea has enough nutritional benefits to cancel out the effect of the caffeine.” She puts her cup down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture you. I guess I’m a little nervous too. This is my first time actually meeting up with someone since I arrived in Nelson.”

  “When did you arrive?” Inwardly, I sigh with relief that Laura is nervous too.

  “About four weeks ago. I helped my aunt move into Windsor Oaks and now I’m living in her old house. I’m slowly clearing it out. I’m the only family she has left.”

  “That’s very nice of you.” I sip from my coffee and await the hit to my nervous system Laura predicted earlier.

  Laura shrugs. “I needed a change of scenery.”

  I sense a reluctance to talk more about that and I’m eager to keep the conversation going. “I know I said it before, but welcome to Nelson. There aren’t that many of us, but we do love the community spirit. Apart from four years of college in Austin, I’ve lived here my entire life.”

  “That’s commitment.” Laura sinks her teeth into her bottom lip for an instant.

  “When someone hassles me about it, I always say I don’t need a wife because I’m married to Nelson.” I pull my shoulders up. “Works every time.”

  Laura nods thoughtfully. She begins to say something, closes her mouth, then starts again. “I assume I pinged your gaydar?”

  Now my cheeks do flush bright red. “A little,” I mutter.

  “It’s okay.” She averts her gaze and looks at The Nelson Ledger business and greeting cards I brought. “Shall we get down to business?”

  “Sure.” I’m still a little flustered, and frustrated because I missed an opportunity to get to know her better. But at least I have confirmation that she’s a lesbian and that alone is enough to make my stomach flutter. “As you can see, your newly adopted town needs you.” I hold up the last issue of The Ledger.

  No more smiles from Laura. Her expression has gone all business-like. “What exactly are you looking for? Rebranding? A layout overhaul?”

  “The works,” I say. “A graphic intervention, basically.” I try for a chuckle, but get none.

  “What’s the budget?” Our gazes meet and cling.

  Maybe it’s a city thing to be so straightforward about money, but here in Nelson, money is always the very last item on any agenda—and usually discussed in hushed tones. “One thousand dollars,” I say with great reluctance and a pinch of embarrassment.

  “One thousand?” Laura repeats, an edge of incredulity to her voice.

  “Yep… and it took me a long time to come up with that.” I try a grin. “But, of course, payment is not only in dollars. You will also get the never-ending gratitude of the inhabitants of this town for saving them from that hideous green round thing they have to look at every week… and an endless supply of green tea, smiles, and friendship from the managing editor.”

  Laura chuckles and it feels like a tiny victory. “Do you mind me asking how The Nelson Ledger makes any money at all?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t. The weekly paper issue sells for one dollar—any more and I’d have the council on my back. We get a yearly grant from them that barely covers my measly part-time salary, and we have a very small amount of advertising income.”

  Laura finishes her tea, then looks at me, her lips pursed together. “So you’re really in it for the love of Nelson.”

  “The nail on the head right there.” I swell a little with pride.

  “I admire that.” She looks me in the eyes briefly, then looks away again.

  “In my free time, I help out my parents at the ranch, though they’re getting older and they’re slowing things down. Selling most of their livestock. I love living on the ranch, but the ranch business ain’t for me.”

  “You live with your parents?” Laura can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.

  “Er… yes. Never found a compelling reason to move out, I guess.” I try to read her face but, unlike her voice, it appears she’s very good at keeping it blank.

  She glances at The Ledger’s logo and, swiftly, asks me a few questions about the type of new logo I’m looking for. We conclude she’ll make a few ske
tches—so I can get a feel for what she does—and she’ll get back to me in a few days. Then we’ll decide if we can work on this project together officially.

  When she’s making moves to leave, I ask, “Laura, er, do you mind me asking what made you change your mind? You seemed so reluctant to meet at first and after I didn’t hear from you for a week, I honestly believed you’d be avoiding me for the rest of my days.”

  “You’re very persistent.” She gathers her bag from the chair next to her and stands. “And the alternative jogging route I tried for a week after your impromptu visit to my house wasn’t working out for me. I like to see at least one person when I go for a run.”

  She doesn’t say it as such, but I guess I can summarize Laura’s response in one word: loneliness.

  I’m also glad my persistence won out in the end.

  Five

  Laura

  When I arrive at Windsor Oaks the next day, to my surprise, there’s a woman coming out of the front gate who looks just like Tess, though I can tell it’s not Tess. Her hair is styled differently and she has a pair of thick-rimmed glasses on her nose. I must have stared at her a little too long, because she says, “I know it’s confusing, but yes, Tess and I are twins.” She extends her hand. “I’m Megan and you must be Laura.”

  Tess’s twin knows my name already? Maybe they’re the kind of twins who tell each other everything. “In the flesh.” I shake her hand briefly, feeling a bit self-conscious about my sweaty palm—and clothes.

  “I was just dropping off some artwork the first graders made for the people in the home. Your aunt lives here, doesn’t she?” They must be that kind of twins I conclude there and then. Their voices are the same as well.

  “She does. I’m here for my daily visit.”

  “I have my youngest in the car so I can’t dilly-dally, but it was lovely meeting you, Laura,” Megan says and gives me a quick wave.

  “You too,” I mumble, though I doubt Megan caught it. She’s making a mad dash for the SUV parked a few feet away.

  * * *

  “I might have made an acquaintance,” I say to Aunt Milly, and it’s as though I can see her perk up at receiving this news. She has always been so supportive. When I came out to my family, my evangelical preacher father and his devoted wife decided my ‘choice of lifestyle’ was not compatible with their beliefs, and they cut me out of their life. Aunt Milly was the only one who accepted and stood by me.

  “That’s wonderful, Laura. I know you’re wary and it will take the time it takes, but I’m glad for you.” Aunt Milly is very alert today—no signs of her dozing off just yet.

  “Tess Douglas, who apparently has a twin sister called Megan. She runs The Nelson Ledger.”

  “Oh yes. I know the Douglas girls. One of them is married to the high school football coach, which practically makes them royalty in a town like this.”

  Not Tess, I think, and remember the comment she made about not having a wife. “I’m doing some design work for The Ledger, that’s how I met Tess.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Milly slaps a palm against her thigh limply. “I remember now. Yes, Tess Douglas. There was a whole brouhaha when she came out years ago. Nelson has had to evolve since then.”

  It feels wrong to hear this information from somebody else than Tess, but I am glad to know a little more about her.

  “We’ve had another couple move here since then…” She pauses. “I forget their names, but they live on Birch Street.”

  Gosh, Nelson is beginning to seem like a hotbed of lesbianism. “Good to know it’s not just me then.”

  “It never is, dear. It never is.” Aunt Milly sits up straighter. “Before I forget, Laura, can I ask a favor of you?”

  “Anything you want.” I hope she’s not going to ask me to get to know all of Nelson’s lesbians better, but that’s hardly Aunt Milly’s style.

  She reaches for a drawer on her left hand side and takes out a closed envelope. “Could you bring this to Mr. Caan, my lawyer. He’ll know what to do with it.”

  I take the envelope from her. It’s light as a feather, as though there’s no paper inside. “That’s very mysterious.”

  “I’m just like everyone else in that there are a few things I’d rather not talk about. This is one of them.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll take it over first thing tomorrow.” I know very well what Aunt Milly doesn’t want to talk about, just as I can guess that what she has given me is most likely something to do with her will.

  * * *

  The next day, after delivering Aunt Milly’s mysterious envelope to Mr. Caan’s office, I walk into Mary’s Café for a follow-up meeting with Tess. Because I didn’t know how long it was going to take at the lawyer’s, I’m early, and I look over the drawings I made as a potential new logo for The Nelson Ledger. Because my shaky arm is still acting up, I drew them on my sketch pad rather than designing them directly on the computer. I’ll have to show Tess some color swatches, but one thing’s for sure: we’re getting rid of that vile green.

  After Tess ambushed me at my front door, I wanted to stay away from her. So much so that I changed my running route to Windsor Oaks to avoid passing through Main Street—adding more than a mile each way to the distance. Until I realized how silly I was being avoiding a woman who was offering me work. Business first, I told myself. Not only because of the money—which is turning out to be quite pitiful—but also to adhere to something resembling a normal life.

  As long as I make it crystal clear that I’m in no way, shape or form ‘on the market’, as quickly as possible, I fail to see a valid reason for not doing business with her. After all, as I’ve learned after ten years as a freelance graphic designer, one client can lead to another and so on. If I want to make Nelson my home, getting work here should be my priority.

  “Green tea?”

  I easily recognize Tess’s voice by now—I don’t talk to many people these days. I guess she likes to arrive early. “I’m fine for now.” I look up at her and am, again, amazed by how much she and her sister look alike.

  She gestures to Mary behind the counter and sits. “Hi there.” There’s that stare again, not quite gray and not quite green. I try to remember Megan’s eye color, but I was too busy recovering from the shock of seeing a Tess clone to notice. “How are you?” Tess looks at the closed folder on the table. “Can’t wait to see what you came up with.” The enthusiasm in her voice is flattering, but also a bit nerve-racking. There’s always the prospect of disappointing a potential client.

  “I’m fine.” The times I’ve spoken those words while, inside, I’m all cramped up with fear and doubt. But today is not too bad. Removing myself from the scene of the crime and putting nine hundred miles between myself and Chicago has helped. Plus, I’m on the cusp of nailing a client and making a friend. “Though a little confused.”

  “Why’s that?” Tess thanks Mary for the coffee, then focuses her attention on me again. She’s wearing her long hair in a loose pony tail today and that maroon blouse looks good on her.

  “I met your twin sister at Windsor Oaks yesterday. Talk about a mind trip. You look so much alike.”

  A quizzical expression crosses Tess’s face. “You met Megan?” Her voice grows high-pitched. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

  “Neither can I.” A giggle escapes my throat.

  “Why can’t you believe it?” Tess cocks her head.

  “Because, even though I only met your sister briefly, I got the distinct impression that you ladies tell each other everything. I didn’t even have to introduce myself.” I hold Tess’s gaze and immediately feel sorry for her when her cheeks go pink.

  “Well, this is a small town and we don’t get new inhabitants every day. I may have mentioned you.” Tess recovers well.

  “Don’t worry. I’m flattered.” I feel a smile breaking on my lips—a motion I can’t seem to control. Perhaps, after all these months of not allowing myself much room for emotions, I’m starting to get back in touch with th
e human inside of me.

  “Thank goodness.” Tess’s laugh is a little too wild. “I hope my dear sister didn’t offend you in any way?”

  “We just had a brief chat. There was no time for her to dish the dirt on you.” Something in my stomach twinges, alerting me that I’m about to skirt dangerous territory. The territory of flirting. I clear my throat and change my approach—remembering that if Tess makes any move on me, I will need to shut that down instantly. This light banter between us may be a temporary respite from everything I’ve been through and the pain I carry with me, but it most certainly can’t go anywhere. And it mustn’t put unattainable ideas into Tess’s head.

  “Hallelujah.” Tess brings her hands together in front of her face in prayer position. “Because that girl can talk.”

  I swallow the comment I’m about to make about how totally alike they are in every respect, because, in the end, we’re here for business first and foremost. “Shall I show you my sketches?” I tap a finger on the folder in front of me.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” A hint of hesitation has crept into Tess’s tone.

  I open the folder and spread out three sheets of paper. “I’m having some computer issues, so I drew them by hand. But I was thinking about this color palette.” I show her the turquoise tones I chose.

  Tess studies the designs in silence for a few minutes, then exclaims, “Oh my goodness, these are amazing.” Tess finds my gaze and, for a moment, it looks as though she might hug me. Then she examines my sketches again. “I’m in absolute awe right now.”

  My turn to blush. “Thank you. I’m so glad you like them.”

  “Like them? I love them! How am I meant to choose between these three?” She glances at me again, this time holding my gaze. I find it hard to look back so I focus on the smattering of freckles on her nose.

  “Too much praise, really. Let’s not go overboard.”