Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  “We are not a couple,” I repeat. Perhaps if I repeat it often enough—like an endless refrain in my head—I can begin to accept it. “We’re just friends.”

  “Oh really?” Mom is on a roll today. “Because whenever I see the two of you together I could swear you are an item. Just my powers of perception. Even your father has noticed. Heck, even Mary asked me about it the other day.”

  I roll my eyes at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Tessie. You two have been spending so much time together. This is a small town. People talk. That’s just how it goes.”

  “The town can think what it wants. And next time someone asks you, you can tell them we’re just friends.” I think of poor Laura, trapped in that traumatized mind of hers. Compared to hers, my life might as well have come straight from a storybook. At least I can sit here and have a conversation with my mother, no matter how much it aggravates me at the moment.

  First shunned by her parents, then… that.

  “I wonder why, honey.” Mom gently grabs a tress of my hair and drapes it over my shoulder. “A gorgeous woman like you. You’d think any lesbian new to town would jump at the chance. Is she involved with someone else?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, but that’s really none of your business.” When you’ve lived with your parents all your life, boundaries can start to blur.

  “Maybe you should try one of those dating apps. Like Tinder or whatever it’s called,” Megan offers.

  “I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. And you can rest assured that, if and when the right woman comes along, you two will be the first to know.”

  Mom beams me a smile, and I smile back. “I’d better go check on those cupcakes. And on the kitchen before the boys destroy it. I told them to clean up while I sat down for a minute so heaven knows what I’m going to find.”

  “I’ll come help you, Mom.” Megan gets up. “My children, my mess, right?”

  A line I’ve slung in Megan’s direction many a time. As they go inside, I slip my phone out of my jeans pocket and, for the first time, type Laura’s name into Google. Then I erase it, because what am I possibly hoping to find? What she’s told me is already so gruesome. I swipe the browser window away and decide that Laura will tell me everything I need to know without me finding things out behind her back. I also resist the urge to google the name Tracy Hunt and find out what she looked like.

  Then, for a split second, I consider installing the app Megan talked about, but consider it pointless as long as my head is filled to the brim with Laura.

  * * *

  The next day at the office, I can’t stop thinking about Laura. Not only because I constantly see the new logo she designed, but because I can’t get her story out of my head. How she must have felt when I went to her house after we first met and asked if she wanted to have a story in The Ledger. And after I asked her out on that date. As much as I try to put myself in her position, I can’t even begin to imagine what she went through—and is still going through. Now that I know the extent of her grief and pain, she actually comes across as pretty self-composed. And then… in barged Tess Douglas, with her big mouth and country charm.

  I go over all the time we’ve spent together since I accidentally cornered her in the supermarket, five weeks ago already, and consider how not an hour goes by that I don’t think about her. While it stings a bit that I have to let my romantic dream for us go—at least for now—my pain is nothing compared to Laura’s.

  I shut down my computer for the day and, instead of sitting and thinking about Laura, I decide to call her. Might as well. After the last time I rang her doorbell without invitation, and made such a spectacle of myself, I make a point of asking her in advance whether I can stop by. After she agrees—a pleasant note of surprise in her voice—I pick up a couple of salads from the deli and drive over.

  More than anything, I want her to know that she’s not alone. Not that I can carry her pain for her, but at least I can be there for her. Sometimes, late at night when I can’t sleep, and I picture Laura lying alone in her bed, my stomach knots into a tight ball because I can’t be there to hug her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

  “Taking pity on me?” she asks when she opens the door.

  “Just feeding the hungry.” She leads me to the patio table overlooking the garden, which is beginning to look properly taken care of.

  I don’t feel comfortable starting the conversation. I don’t want to push her to say anything and figure Laura will talk when she wants to. I also like to believe that just me being here is enough.

  “I was able to make a pretty decent drawing directly on my computer today. Things are looking up.”

  “Glad to hear. What did you draw?”

  “A flyer for the upcoming rodeo. Before Billy asked me to design that, I had no idea this sort of thing actually existed.”

  “Tsk.” I shake my head. “You city slickers don’t know anything about fine, small-town traditions.”

  Laura chuckles, then says, “According to the flyer, members of the audience are invited to have a go on the mechanical bull. Are you game?”

  I drop my fork and feign indignation. “Am I game? You happen to be looking at the reigning female champion, two years running!”

  Laura slaps her thigh. “My goodness. Your highness. I had no idea.”

  “Megan came second two years in a row. I told her it was all that giving birth that made her lose her edge. She always used to beat me, but not anymore.”

  “Can’t wait to see that in action.” Laura’s face is as bright as I’ve ever seen it.

  “You must have a go!”

  “Who? A city slicker like me? I don’t stand a chance.” She boldly looks into my eyes, as though she’s accepting a challenge.

  I narrow my eyes. “You think you can beat me?”

  Laura purses her lips and shakes her head. “Why would I think that? You’re a ranch girl. You’ve probably been riding live bulls all your life.”

  “We don’t ride bulls at the ranch, Laura.”

  She sits there grinning from ear to ear. I walked right into that one.

  “Okay, hot shot, game on. Loser cooks the other one dinner.”

  “I’d best go shopping for a new cookbook then,” Laura says.

  I extend my hand, she looks at it for an instant, then shakes it. “I accept the challenge.”

  After we’ve finished our salads, she shows me the rosebushes she planted in the garden. While we overlook the greenery, I ask, “How are you doing?” I can hardly pretend that her confession didn’t happen.

  “I think it was good for me to say it out loud. Share it with someone.” Laura examines one of the roses closely.

  “Did you see someone… professional after it happened?”

  “You mean a therapist?” Laura’s still fascinated by the rose. “I did for a while, but for me, going for a run does so much more to exorcize my demons than saying the same things over and over again to someone I’m paying to listen.”

  “We have someone in Nelson, you know. I’m mentioning it just in case.”

  Laura looks up from her flower-examining. “Thanks. I actually saw them mentioned in The Ledger. But I’m done having my soul squeezed by a shrink. It’s up to me now to learn to live with it. There’s nothing anyone else can say or do now. It’s all down to me. I know it’s going to take time and that, perhaps, I will miss opportunities because of it.” It feels as though Laura is squeezing my soul when she says this. “But I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of this. This is not your battle, Tess. I appreciate you’re here for me. I really do. But… don’t wait for me to be ready. You’ll let the best years of your life go by.”

  “Yes, boss,” I say half-heartedly. “I’m already having such a good time now, though.” I shoot Laura the most gentle smile I have in me.

  “Wait until I kick your ass at the rodeo.” With that, Laura turns and heads back to the patio.

  Fifteen


  Laura

  A few weeks later, at the rodeo, Tess kicks my ass, royally. I wouldn’t have thought it possible with her long limbs and high center of gravity, but she held on to that bull as though her life depended on it, beating Megan in the process as well.

  We spend the afternoon hanging around one of the local farms and, apart from Friday night home games, this seems to be the only other occasion the entire town comes out for. It’s a fun day out and Tess and I stay to watch the professionals battle it out. There are seven contestants, all of whom have come to Nelson for this reason only. To our great delight, one of them is a woman, who takes on the men with gusto and bravado.

  “It’s been a while since we had a proper cowgirl in these parts,” Tess says, casting her glance over the woman approvingly.

  The bull rider is dressed in the right attire for today’s business. Flannel shirt, black vest, low-slung jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. “If I’d run into this woman in Chicago, my gaydar would be pinging uncontrollably, but this is the countryside and you just can’t tell.”

  “What are you insinuating, Laura?” Tess looks at me with an expression of faux-indignation on her face. “That us country girls all look like lesbians to you?”

  I shake my head. “You’re missing the point entirely.” I elbow Tess in the arm so she looks over at the woman again. She’s staring straight at us.

  “She’s handsome,” I say when we’ve averted our gaze.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me or something?” There’s unexpected bite to Tess’s tone. I guess there is a limit to our banter.

  Megan and Scott come over and the woman disappears from our field of vision. I keep her in the back of my mind. Maybe we’ll bump into her later.

  “We’re taking the kids home. They’ve had too much sugar,” Scott says.

  “No they haven’t, hon. That’s just how children behave in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when their friends are around,” Megan counters.

  “Are you going to the dance tonight?” Tess asks.

  “No. Emma’s got a cold coming on and I don’t want to leave her with Mom and Dad for the night. She’ll wake them up too often,” Megan says.

  Scott stands shaking his head in disbelief. “And now she’ll wake us up ten times during the night.”

  “No darling,” Megan says, “It’s the weekend, which means you get up when the kids need one of us before dawn.”

  Scott rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I ever married a Douglas.” He shoots me a quick wink.

  “I’m an Ingersley now,” Megan says. “Although it hasn’t had much positive effect on me.”

  “I’m taking you home, woman,” Scott says.

  They say their goodbyes, gather their children and leave the rodeo fest.

  “What do you say, Laura? Time for a disco nap before we get our dancing shoes on?” Tess asks.

  I agree, while I remind myself that this dance is going to be something entirely different than what I’m used to from parties in Chicago.

  * * *

  “She’s here,” I say to Tess, more to steer her attention away from the poor imitation of line dancing I’m doing than to actually let her know.

  “Who?” Tess is, of course, a natural at line dancing. She’s had a lifetime of practice.

  “The cowgirl. She’s at the bar. Knocking them back like a pro.”

  “What’s with you and that woman? Are you trying to tell me something? If you’re interested in her, be my guest, Laura.” Tess keeps jutting her feet out rhythmically while she says this.

  I grab her by the arm and coax her out of the line. “You know very well I’m not interested in her.”

  “It sure sounded like you were.” Tess is actually sulking.

  “What’s the matter?” She has me worried now.

  “You… you’re trying to pawn me off to the first woman who walks into town and vaguely looks like she could be a lesbian. Like you’ve had enough of me.”

  “I put both hands on Tess’s shoulders. “I’m sorry if I was being too pushy. I just wanted to make clear that you shouldn’t hold back on my account.”

  “Oh, I know that. I know that very well.” Tess seems a little angry.

  “Do you want to step outside for a minute?” I drop my hands from her shoulders.

  “No, Laura, I just want to dance. I just want to have a good time.” Tess already has one foot back on the dance floor. She really does love her line dancing.

  I back off and sit down at a table on the edge of the dance floor. I probably did push her too far. Like I was trying to live vicariously through her. I let my gaze roam over the dance floor, and over the simple but exquisite pleasure the dancers are experiencing. Automatically, I compare what I’m seeing to Chicago where the clubs are always trying to outdo each other when it comes to new technologies. But lasers and revolving podiums and ridiculously expensive DJs don’t make happiness, I conclude. The simpler, the better. That’s why I moved here.

  I glance over at the bar, at the cowgirl. Even when she was riding the bull, and holding on for dear life, she kept a certain grace about her. Smile half-cocked, lips pursed in concentration, eyes on the prize. She came second and was very gracious about that as well.

  While my glance skitters back from the cowgirl to Tess, I wonder if I would feel the slightest pang of jealousy if, hypothetically, the cowgirl managed to pick Tess up. I look at Tess strutting her stuff on the floor and, with a fierceness that surprises me, I conclude that I would be. I’m ashamed by my own selfishness. While it’s silly to claim that I have no right to feel that way, that’s how I see it. Because I can’t give Tess what she wants. Can’t even come close. Not even for a night. Not even for a minute.

  I push any thoughts of Tracy to the back of my mind, sit back, and watch the dancers. Tess glances over in my direction again. The dancing must have lifted her spirits. She gives me a sort of wicked grin I haven’t seen on her before and, instead of wondering about the consequences, or analyzing what she means by it and what I would say in my defense if it were to lead to us having a moment again, I just enjoy the view of my friend dancing and having a good time.

  A few songs later, when the music has turned slow and Tess has turned down the invitation to dance from one of the cowboys, she sits next to me, and says, “You know what, Laura? I danced on it, and maybe you’re right.”

  I quirk up my eyebrows, waiting for further explanation.

  “If that cowgirl makes a move, I may not reject it. Emphasis on ‘may’, but it’s a first step.” To back up what she just said, Tess looks over at the woman and I witness how their gazes meet. I am jealous now. But that’s my problem.

  “Oh God, I think she’s coming over.” Tess looks at the table. “You have to help me, Laura. I’m so out of practice.”

  “No you’re not,” I say, “and I should know.” This elicits a look from Tess I can’t decipher.

  “Howdy, ladies.” The woman has reached our table. In one hand she holds a beer bottle, the other hand she clasps around her belt. “Aren’t you two just the cutest couple I’ve seen.”

  “We’re not a couple,” Tess and I say simultaneously.

  The woman gives a deep-throated laugh. “Okay. Got it.” She has the same half-cocked smile on her face as this afternoon on the bull. “My name is Sherry and I came to this lovely little town to win the rodeo, but I didn’t. So now I could do with some company. Do you mind if I join you?”

  I let Tess do the talking. “Of course. Pull up a chair. I’m Tess, and this is Laura.”

  “I saw you strutting your stuff on the floor there, Tess. You’ve got moves, girl,” Sherry says to Tess, then turns to me. “Not much of a dancer, are you? I’m the same.”

  “Laura’s new in town. She’s still learning,” Tess says and shoots me a furtive glance. Is this my cue to leave? I did tell her I would be her wing woman if she needed me, but we have no practice at this and I don’t know what the rules are. I guess I’ll set the rules then.

>   “Moved here a few months ago.” Up close, Sherry has a sort of rugged handsomeness that seldom works on a woman, but it does on her. She must get all the girls wherever she goes. She’d better treat Tess right. “Still building my business. Speaking of which, I just caught sight of Billy and I need to check in with him about something. Please excuse me.”

  I try to give Tess an encouraging smile. If she hadn’t just said that she ‘may’ not reject Sherry’s advances, I wouldn’t have left her alone with the cowgirl. But it’s sort of my duty to give her a push. If anything, it would be good for her to bask in the attention another woman bestows on her. For her life to revolve a little less around me for a night. I give her a quick tap on the shoulder and make my way to the bar. I don’t see Billy anymore, nor do I have any business to discuss with him. I do run into Myriam and Isabella, who regale me with a tale of how their cat gave birth to the cutest litter of ginger kittens and ask me if I want to adopt one. I’m so absent-minded—I keep thinking about Tess and sneaking peeks at her—that I accept without even thinking about it.

  Sixteen

  Tess

  I can’t believe Laura left me alone with this woman so quickly. It’s as if she’s trying to prove something. Or trying to make a point at the very least. “Don’t wait for me, Tess,” she said. As if things like that just happen on command. As if I can just switch off my feelings because she’s emotionally unavailable. And why did I say that about not automatically wanting to reject the cowgirl’s advances? And how did I end up tête-à-tête with her so quickly? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something—it must be in cahoots with Laura then.

  “Are you from here? Ah, wait, don’t tell me. I think you are,” Sherry says.

  She might be the nicest person on the planet, display the greatest amount of charm, and make me feel like one in a million, but I already know there’s no way I’m going home with her tonight. Where would we go anyway? She doesn’t live here. She’s probably staying at the Nelson Inn and I wouldn’t be caught dead there. It’s not as if I could—if I wanted to, which I don’t—take her home with me. Maybe I should ask Laura if we can use her house.