Disclosures - SF4

by Meagher, Susan X

  Jamie instantly realized where this path was leading. "You have met, but it’s not what you think," she warned, her eyes growing wide.

  "Oh?" Now the confusion was back onto his face. "I thought it might be Ryan’s brother. They sure are a fine looking pair of siblings."

  "No, Daddy. It’s not her brother. It’s Ryan. I’ve fallen in love with Ryan," she said confidently.

  He opened his mouth at least three separate times trying to speak, but, for one of the few times in his life, no words would come. Giving her a completely helpless look he finally uttered, "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Daddy, I’m very sure. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life." Now that the words were out, Jamie was, amazingly, the soul of composure. She looked much older than her 21 years, and Jim was suddenly struck with the thought that his little girl was truly no longer a child.

  "D...d...does she know?" he stuttered.

  "Yes, she knows," she said softly. "She feels the same for me."

  "Have you....have you....been....together?" This last word was practically wrung from his mouth, and he looked a little ill as he articulated it.

  She blushed deeply and debated with herself for just an instant. The details of their relationship were really not something she wished to share, but this was such a big issue, she decided to tell all. "Yes, Daddy, we have."

  "And you’re still certain?" he asked, rather perplexed that his daughter could be with a woman in that way and still think she was in love.

  "That’s what made me certain," she admitted despite her embarrassment. "I felt like I was finally home."

  "But Honey," he said as his mind started to wake up, "Young women like you don’t just wake up one day and decide that they’re....that they’re....lesbians."

  "My realization did not come in one day, Daddy," she assured him, putting aside the issue of whether she was, in fact, a lesbian or not. "When I look back on it now, I’ve had clues for years. It was never right for me with men. I didn’t connect with them, emotionally or sexually," she admitted.

  Now he began to flush as he asked, "I know this is a private matter, Jamie, but how many men have you really been with?"

  She did not like this line of questioning, but since she had started down it, she felt that she had to finish it. "That is private, but I want to help you to understand this, so I’ll answer. I was only with Jack, Daddy. And I didn’t sleep with him until last summer."

  His hands dropped to the cushion as his mouth fell open. "I just....I just assumed that some of the boys in high school had convinced..."

  "No, no one convinced me of anything. Not then and not now."

  The confident, determined look that covered her face spoke volumes about her resolve, and he felt just a flash of respect for her well-thought-out position. But his protective, parental voice quickly reasserted itself. "But why did you wait so long? I thought girls were having sex in grammar school now. Did something happen to you when you were younger?" he asked, grasping at straws.

  "No! Of course not! No one ever touched me. I waited because I wasn’t interested. I wasn’t really interested with Jack either, but I knew I couldn’t make him hold out forever. I’m amazed he waited for two years," she admitted with a sardonic shake of her head.

  He dropped his head into his hands and sat very still for a long while. He finally lifted his head and asked, "And you are… interested… in that way… with Ryan?"

  She slowly nodded her head as she closed her eyes momentarily. "Very," she replied. "Completely."

  His body had nearly been in shock, and now that the reality of the situation started to hit, he felt the familiar clenching in his stomach and worried briefly that he was going to be sick. His hands were clasped loosely together, hanging between his spread knees, and his drooping head mirrored them. "I just don’t know what to say, Jamie. This is the very last thing I ever expected from you." He looked up at her with a mixture of fear and sadness. "I’m really at a loss."

  She had never seen such a lost, haunted look on her father’s face, and it suddenly hit her how difficult it was for him to hear this news. Not that she thought being gay was a bad thing, of course. But she had a sudden insight into her grandfather’s warning that the worst thing for her parents would be the realization that their plans for her would not come to fruition. Her voice grew gentle, and she reached out to lightly grasp his linked hands. "Did you understand what I said at the beginning of this conversation, Daddy? This makes me very happy."

  He looked up at her and gazed deeply into her eyes for a moment. He saw the determined, confident expression that covered her face, but it just made no sense to him. "How can it?" The question lay at her feet like an unexploded grenade. She fought the urge to lob it back at him with a smart remark, focusing instead on the gap that she had to try to bridge.

  Maintaining his gaze, she spoke the simple truth that filled her soul. "It’s true because being with her has allowed me to be the best ‘me’ that I have ever been. She completes me, Daddy." A soft, bemused laugh escaped her lips and she explained, "I used to think people were speaking a foreign language when they spoke of the kind of love I feel for her. I never thought it was possible to feel like this about another person, Daddy, but now that I know, I swear that I will never give it up. I will never give her up."

  Her sincerity affected him deeply, and he let her words rumble around in his mind for a moment. His gaze lingered on the earnest, self-possessed young woman who looked back at him, thinking how much she reminded him of himself at her age. He opened his arms and bit back a tear as she collapsed into his embrace. Placing several light kisses upon the top of her head, he patted her back lovingly, giving her a final squeeze as he said, "I need some time to think about this, Jamie. This is an awful lot for me to get my mind around."

  "That’s okay, Daddy," she murmured, sitting up once again. She ran a hand through her hair and he smiled when he realized that gesture was identical to one he had seen Catherine use hundreds of times. "I tried to hide the truth from myself for years. It’s okay if it takes you a while to be comfortable with it."

  He shook his head a little more forcefully. "I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with this, Honey. But I’ll try to understand."

  "That’s all that I ask of you," she said, meaning every word.

  A glance at the clock on the mantel alerted him to his appointment and he excused himself as he stood. "I need to call the fellow who was going to show me that car to tell him I can’t make it."

  He had only traveled a couple of feet when she said, "Why don’t you go ahead and go. I’d like to talk to Mother alone, if you don’t mind."

  His eyes opened very wide as he commented, "I don’t know that this is a very good way to be welcomed home, Jamie. Couldn’t you wait a bit?"

  She shook her head firmly. "I’d really prefer to do it today, Daddy. I don’t think it’s fair to Mother to hide this from her any longer."

  Sighing heavily, he offered a small smile to his determined daughter. "As you wish, Jamie. Tell your mother I’ll be home for dinner." He started for the front door, pausing briefly as he entered the foyer. He looked as though he were about to offer some bit of advice. Instead, he gave her a somber look and said, "Good luck."

  As soon as he walked out the door, Jamie pulled her cell phone from her belt and paged Ryan. In moments, the call was returned, her partner sounding rather breathless. "Hi, Sweetheart," Jamie said softly.

  "Are you okay?" Ryan asked simultaneously.

  "Sure…of course, Baby. I spoke with Daddy, and it went better than I thought it would."

  She could hear the relieved breath that whistled through the receiver. "God, that’s good news."

  "Yeah. It wasn’t a cause for celebration or anything—but he didn’t go ballistic."

  "I’m very, very happy to hear that, Honey," Ryan murmured, her voice breaking up a little because of the poor connection.

  "Mother should be home soon, Babe. I’ll call you after rou
nd two."

  "You take care of yourself, Jamie." Ryan’s voice was serious, and Jamie could just picture her earnest face.

  "I will, Love. I’ll call you when I can."

  "I love you, Jamie," Ryan soothed. "No matter how it goes today, you will always be loved—by me and your O’Flaherty family."

  A calming, warm sense of relief washed over her, and she could actually feel some of the tension leave her body. Her voice dropped an octave, and she softly replied, "That means everything to me, Ryan. Absolutely everything."

  "Marta?" Jamie called as she walked into the kitchen in search of the Evans family cook.

  Jamie had been so focused on starting the conversation with her father that she hadn't taken the time to seek out her old friend when they first arrived at the house. She had always considered Marta a member of the family, but she knew that Marta did not exactly share that feeling. It wasn’t that Marta did not care for the members of the Evans family, she did—quite a lot, in fact. Rather, it was that she had never mistaken the pleasant, friendly way that Jim and Catherine treated her for anything other than well-mannered people being good employers.

  Jamie, however, was another matter. She felt a deep bond with her—a bond that had begun even before her birth, when Marta would make special meals to encourage Catherine to eat a balanced diet during her pregnancy.

  Nonetheless, Marta would never come into the living areas to welcome Jamie home. She would remain in the kitchen, or in her large, well-appointed room, waiting for the familiar light knock that always brought a smile to her face.

  Failing to find the cook in the kitchen, Jamie poked her head out the back door, pleased to find Marta sitting under an umbrella, enjoying a tall glass of lemonade. As Jamie drew closer she smiled when she spied another glass, waiting just for her. "Madrina," she said affectionately as she bent to kiss Marta’s cheek.

  "Mi hija," Marta replied with a wide smile, in her standard fashion. For as long as Jamie could remember, she and Marta had referred to each other as "Godmother" and "My daughter". The term was not of a proprietary nature. Marta never considered that it was her place to act as Jamie’s mother. It was more a sign of the deep affection that the two had always had for each other.

  "I’m sorry I didn’t come to find you earlier," Jamie said, as Marta poured the lemonade for her. "I needed to speak to my father for a few minutes."

  "It’s quite all right, Jamie," Marta said, her grin crinkling the corners of her eyes. "I am always happy to see you, whether I am the first or the last to be greeted."

  There was no sting in her words—she was merely expressing the reality of their situation. She had always attempted to show Jamie that there was a dividing line between her, an employee, and Jim and Catherine. It was a hard lesson for the child to learn, especially because she spent more time with Elizabeth and Marta than she did with her parents. But Marta knew that unemployment was just around the door for the person who tried to breach that invisible, but impenetrable, barrier.

  "Are you preparing a special meal for Mother’s homecoming?" It was an old joke between the pair. Catherine ate slightly less than Caitlin, and 22 years of trying had still not revealed the secret to getting the elder Evans woman to clean her plate.

  "I believe I have finally given up that quest," Marta replied with a small smile. "But if you will be here for dinner, I will pull out all of the stops."

  "I hadn’t planned on it, Marta," she said, sparing a glance at her watch, "but it might be a good idea, after all. I need to speak with Mother, and it wouldn't be polite to run out as soon as I’m finished."

  Marta gave her young friend a long, interested look. She would not intrude by asking Jamie the nature of her business this afternoon, but she was more than willing to lend an ear if it was needed.

  Jamie understood the slight gesture perfectly, having grown very proficient at reading the older woman’s body language, but she did not feel comfortable sharing her news with Marta before she spoke to her mother. She also did not relish the thought of coming out to three people in one day. As much as she cared for Marta, she was not at all sure how the older woman would react. Marta was a staunch Catholic, and she took a very active role as a volunteer at her church. Jamie didn’t know a lot about Catholic dogma, but she was certain that the church did not approve of homosexual pairings. She assumed that even if Marta disapproved of her relationship with Ryan, she would not say so, but she still didn't want to take the risk.

  Marta cocked her head slightly, her features stilling as she listened intently. "Your mother is home," she said softly.

  Jamie visibly tensed, a reaction not lost on the older woman. "It will be fine, Jamie. Your mother loves you."

  Getting to her feet, Jamie leaned over once again and placed a grateful kiss on Marta’s cheek, smiling to herself as she detected her calming, lilac scent. "I know, Marta. This is just going to be a tough day for all of us. Thanks for caring."

  "I do care, mi hija. Never forget that."

  By the time Jamie entered the foyer, the limo driver had made three trips to unload the seven massive suitcases that Catherine had taken to Italy. "Jamie," she said with a delighted smile when her daughter appeared. "What a lovely surprise!"

  "Hi Mother," she said, matching her smile. They exchanged light kisses on both cheeks, somehow managing to keep the majority of their bodies from touching. "I thought I would come down to welcome you home."

  Catherine did a quick double take at that bit of news, truly surprised to see her daughter—and even more so to be the reason for her visit. The driver had finished, and he lingered at the door, waiting for his payment. Catherine gave him a very generous tip, thanking him for his help in unloading all of her bags.

  She turned back to Jamie as she closed the door and asked, "Is your father at home?"

  "No. We played golf this morning, but he had an appointment to see someone about a car. He said to tell you that he’d be home for dinner."

  "That’s nice, Dear," she said, giving Jamie another pleased smile. She looked in the gilt-framed mirror in the foyer and fussed with her hair for a moment. "Oh my, I’m afraid I look as exhausted as I feel."

  "You probably want to take a nap before dinner," Jamie realized. "I can come down another time to see you."

  "No, no, don’t be silly. It’s not even five o’clock, Jamie. I think I’ll have a little something for dinner and turn in early. I’ve got to get my clock back on west coast time."

  "Are you certain?" Jamie suddenly felt very selfish for springing this news on her mother when she was obviously tired. Italy was nine hours ahead of San Francisco, and she knew that her mother had a hard time sleeping on planes. But she was in too deep to turn back now, and she was certain that Laura Martin would not hold her tongue for long.

  As if on cue, the telephone rang and Catherine walked into the living room to pick it up. "Hello, Laura," she said graciously after her friend had identified herself.

  Her fear becoming fact so suddenly, Jamie nearly fainted dead away. She found her way into the living room, and fell gracelessly onto one of the enormous couches in the massive room. Her stomach clenched violently, and for one fleeting moment she considered jumping up to wrestle the phone from her mother’s hands, but she decided to allow the inevitable to occur.

  "No, I didn’t get your message, Laura. To be honest, I just walked into the house. I was very pleased to find my lovely daughter waiting for me." She turned to give Jamie a fond smile, and was startled to see her daughter’s face resembling that of someone being led to execution.

  "Pardon?" she said, focusing her attention back onto her friend. "What did you say, Laura?"

  "No, she’s alone…why do you ask?"

  Jamie leaned over abruptly, dropping her head into her hands. Catherine could see how upset she was, and it was obvious that Jamie already knew what Laura was trying to convey.

  Moments later, all of the color drained from Catherine’s face. She blindly felt for and grasped an elegant li
ttle carved writing chair and lowered her body into it. "No, I didn’t know that Jamie referred to herself that way," she said in a wavering voice. Jamie felt like impaling herself on the fireplace tools when she heard the tone in her mother’s voice. It was the most emotion she had ever heard from the woman, and she realized how tremendously hard it must be for her to hear this news from outside the family.

  To her amazement, her mother’s cool resurfaced almost before she registered its loss. "I’m sure that was a little joke, Laura. Jamie is not Mrs. Ryan O’Flaherty. I can assure you of that." Catherine turned to lock her gaze onto her daughter’s—and saw the guilt reflected in the moss green eyes.

  "Of course we know of Ryan, Laura," she said blithely, her face an expressionless mask. "It’s just not possible for women to marry in California. Don’t you have any gay friends, Dear?"

  Jamie’s brow furrowed as she tried to get her mind around her mother’s words. It suddenly became obvious that Laura Martin was not going to get the satisfaction that she wished from this interchange. It was all Jamie could do not to shout, "Go Mother!"

  "Yes, of course, we know of their relationship. Jamie just hasn’t been ready to share it with the world at large yet." Her large, warm brown eyes softened as she saw the gratitude that emanated from her daughter. "That does, of course, beg the question of why you thought it your place to bring this to my attention, Laura. You obviously thought this was news to me."

  A stonily determined look had now replaced the warmth in her eyes, and Catherine looked away from her daughter, staring out the windows of the living room as she said, "Jamie has never given us one moment of trouble, Laura. She is the most wonderful child I could hope to be blessed with, and her sexual orientation doesn’t change that in the least. This is an intensely private issue for Jamie, and I should think that you would respect her privacy."

  Catherine smirked, going in for the kill. "No, we are truly not concerned about her. I’m intensely proud of my daughter, and I’m happy to say that she’s generous, kind, and thoughtful to a fault. She’s never hurt anyone intentionally, Laura, and those traits are far more important than who she sleeps with."