by Radclyffe
“You’ve really settled in here, haven’t you?” Mari envied her cousin having found her place, even as she was happy for her.
“You know, I really have.” Carrie’s face grew uncharacteristically solemn. “Thank God Presley is so good at what she does, because I would hate to have to leave. As long as the hospital is healthy, this is home. And I guess, if for some reason I didn’t have my job at the Rivers, I’d have to find something else to do here somewhere.” She glanced over at Mari. “I don’t think I’d want to leave.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we met.”
“Me too. I love my friends more than anything, but there’s something special about family, isn’t there.”
“Yes,” Mari said quietly. “There is.”
Carrie’s soon-to-be new home was just about as cute as her car. The white clapboard two-story square with its slate roof looked like a miniature of all the farmhouses they’d passed on the way: a wide back porch, a small barn, a big garden filled with flourishing plants, some of them already laden with ripening tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers, and a view across a sweeping expanse of meadow toward distant mountains.
“It’s beautiful here.” Mari sighed. “Who is looking after the garden?”
“Presley, Harper, and I take turns coming over to raid whatever’s ripe. Lila—our housekeeper—stops by too.”
Carrie pulled open the screen and opened the back door. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’m planning.”
“Doesn’t anyone lock their doors around here?”
“Oh, probably. The newcomers.”
Mari laughed and entered a bright kitchen, big enough to eat in, that opened directly off the back porch and ran most of the width of the rear of the house. A small table with four wooden chairs nestled around it sat in front of the windows beside the back door. Dark wood counters, oak cupboards with glass fronts, a big gas range, and a white enamel refrigerator with a rounded door that looked like it might be twenty years old completed the decor.
“This is really nice.” Mari ran her hand over the enamel-topped table, like one she remembered from her visit to her grandmother when she was ten. She imagined sitting at that table with a cup of coffee in the morning before work or late in the evening, when she’d finished at the hospital. She could make that picture so easily, but everywhere else she looked was shadows. Would she be alone? Would there be a woman, a life, beyond that bare glimmer of a dream?
“I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Mari jumped, found a smile. “Yes. Amazing.”
Carrie led her through into a living room slightly bigger than the kitchen, with a square black stove of some kind in one corner with a pile of logs beside it. “One bedroom and bath upstairs. We’re going to add an extension with a bedroom, another bath, and maybe a little laundry room. That’s downstairs in the basement right now.”
“Quite a project.”
“I know, fun, huh.” Carrie’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Presley talked to the contractor who’s renovating Abby and Flann’s farmhouse. I haven’t heard the schedule yet, but if anyone can get them to run two crews at the same time, it’ll be Presley.”
“It sounds as if everyone has been here forever—Presley and Abby and you.”
Carrie ran her fingers over the top of a corduroy-covered sofa, glancing around the room. “You’ll feel the same way soon, like you’ve always been here.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Mari wasn’t ready to explain why she’d be content with satisfying work and the occasional company of friends like Carrie. She especially didn’t want to tell her newly found cousin why family was not something she wanted to count on—not for a long, long time.
Chapter Eighteen
Mari sat at one end of a semicircle of high-backed wooden rockers with Carrie, Abby, Presley, and Carson on the back porch of the big yellow farmhouse where Carrie lived with Harper and Presley. She gently pushed her pale green rocker with one foot, lulled by the early morning sun and the rhythmic to-and-fro motion. The worn-smooth seat was so comfortable she’d have sworn it had been carved specifically for her backside. She had to resist searching to see if her name was written on the chair somewhere. When she and Carrie had arrived, the others had welcomed her as if she had always been part of the group. Still, the foreignness of the landscape, with the fenced pastures and hard-packed dirt barnyard populated by chickens and a handicapped rooster who had been introduced to her as Rooster, reminded her she was still very much an outsider. Despite her lingering self-consciousness, she was happy to be there and hoped she’d one day be a real part of the group.
Carrie put her iced tea on the faded gray plank floor, opened her notebook, and balanced it on her knees. “Okay, let’s review.”
Mari smothered a smile as Carrie worked her way from person to person around the semicircle, running down their list of to-dos and ticking off all the things that had been done. She was like a general reviewing battle plans, analyzing troop movements, and shifting assignments between her officers where needed. Presley, Abby, and Carson all accepted her directions good-naturedly, including her mild admonishments when they admitted to not having yet completed all of their tasks. These women were a family, with the same kind of teasing and occasional squabbling Mari was used to at home, although she hadn’t had this many sisters. Brothers were different. As much as she loved every one of hers, they were still boys. To them, everything was a problem to be solved, and once a solution came to light, they considered the issue solved. With a quick dusting off of hands, they moved on, seemingly never troubled by the emotional consequences. Selena understood the emotional aftermath of life’s big and small moments, that even good things came at a cost and unhappy ones could linger beneath the surface for a long time. Mari missed Selena most when faced with the intimacy of others, when she remembered how close they had been and their abrupt parting. She should have been prepared for Selena’s rejection, but she’d let herself hope. Denial was such a dangerous and destructive form of self-delusion.
Selena had wanted to be a nun when she was twelve and used to play at it the way some girls played house, wearing a habit fashioned from a sheet she tied at the waist with a woven strand of hemp and a scarf wrapped around her hair to mimic a wimple. She’d outgrown the desire to be celibate and to devote herself solely to God around the time she discovered boys, but she was still devout, like their parents. Like Mari had never really been. Mari’d never thought to question the church or its dictates growing up—it was just a central focus of her life. But as she’d gotten older and begun to see herself apart in a way that other members in her family couldn’t understand, she began to wonder and question. She’d finally decided she could believe on a spiritual level even when her life was at odds with the rules and tenets of the church. She was okay with that and hoped that God was too.
Carrie flicked her pen in Mari’s direction as if it were a laser pointer. “I suppose you thought you were getting out of things.”
Caught unawares, Mari straightened on a surge of uncharacteristic panic. What had she missed while she was daydreaming about the past? “Uh, well…”
Carrie grinned. “You can be my backup in the cake and pastry department. If for some reason there’s a problem with delivery and I can’t get to it, I’ll call you.”
“Backup.” Mari sagged with relief. That couldn’t be too hard. “Sure. That sounds good.”
Presley reached across Carrie and patted Mari’s knee. “Carrie tends to be eager. You’ll get used to it after a while.”
Carrie snorted.
“I’m happy to help,” Mari said.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Presley said, shooting a look at Abby. “Your services might be required in the future.”
Carson, a red-haired, green-eyed older version of Margie whose face had taken on an elegant beauty in adulthood, shot up straight. Her gaze swung from Presley and finally settled on Abby. “What? What has my sister done now?”
Abby c
hewed her lip. “Well, it’s sort of a secret—”
“Really,” Carrie said with mock sarcasm, “there are no secrets between besties. I hereby propose no secrets in our enclave. After all, we don’t want to miss out on all the good stuff.”
“Oh no,” Abby said, looking pointedly at Carson. “I’m not talking about sex in front of Flann’s sister.”
Carson clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear it, either.”
Both Abby and Presley grinned.
Carrie pretended to pout. “Well, that’s no fun, then. If we’re not going to talk about sex, I suppose we could talk about—” She frowned. “Damn, that takes a lot off the table.”
“Stop trying to change the subject.” Carson poked Abby in the side. “What about Flann, and don’t mention any sex words.”
“You’ll find out tomorrow at dinner, all the details, but Flann and I are going to be planning a wedding pretty soon ourselves.”
Carson whooped. “That’s so great. My mom and dad will be thrilled. I can’t wait to tease Flann about it, the one who was never going to settle down. What did it take her, a hot second?”
Abby grinned. “More than a few seconds, but they were definitely hot.”
“Na-na-nanananna,” Carson singsonged, pretending to poke her fingers in her ears.
Abby smiled.
Enjoying the silliness, Mari tried to imagine telling her parents she was planning a wedding with another woman as if it would be a foregone conclusion everyone would celebrate. She couldn’t see a happy reception, although she didn’t have any difficulty picturing the woman who’d be part of her planning. Heat climbed into her face. She needed to stop thinking about Glenn like that, and she’d be able to, if she wasn’t surrounded by women who were in love with other women. That had never happened to her before. She knew lesbians and gay men, but only casually. None who were her close friends, anyhow.
Another seismic change in her life. Now her cousin was a lesbian and she was making friends with women who were completely comfortable with their sexuality and who seemed to have families who took it all for granted too. She wondered if her family would ever be able to do more than accept her, let alone welcome whatever joy she might find in her life with a woman. She pulled herself back from the brink of that abyss. She couldn’t change what her family did or whether or not they embraced her. All she could do was live her life as honestly as possible. She knew she was right, but that was little comfort sometimes.
“By the time dinner comes around tomorrow,” Carson said, “it won’t be much of a secret. I guess just Mom and Dad.”
“We haven’t told Blake about it yet,” Abby said. “We were going to do that this morning, but he had something he needed to talk to us about instead.”
“Is he okay?” Presley asked.
“He’s great,” Abby said. “He wants to go ahead with his top surgery, so we had to have a family discussion about all the details.”
“Wow,” Carrie said softly. “That’s a big deal.”
Abby nodded. “It is, but it’s also the next logical step, at least for him. He’s been moving toward this since he was fourteen, and the surgery—or rather the effect of the surgery—is important for him and for his sense of self.” Abby looked at Mari. “My son, Blake, is transitioning.”
“He’s lucky,” Mari said softly. “He’s lucky to have you, all of you. I…I wish…”
Carrie gave her hand a squeeze.
“It’s not exactly the same thing,” Mari said, tearing away another layer of self-insulating protection, “but my family has pretty much exiled me since I told them I was a lesbian.”
“It is the same thing—or at least, it’s all part of the same fabric of difference,” Abby said gently. “I’m sorry to hear about your family’s reaction.”
“Thanks,” Mari said. “I’m glad for you and Blake. He sounds a lot braver than I was at his age.”
“Me too,” Carrie muttered. “I was still trying to convince myself I actually liked kissing boys more than girls.” She grinned. “I quit that after a year of kidding myself.”
Mari smiled at her gratefully. She didn’t feel quite so clueless knowing everyone hadn’t known about themselves forever.
“Is Flann doing the surgery?” Carson asked.
“That’s part of what we talked about this morning,” Abby said. “Blake wants her to do it, and Flann is very experienced with the procedure. Glenn will assist, so I know they’ll have a good team. It’s pretty straightforward, and we’re all comfortable with it.”
“Well, I’d let those two operate on me anytime,” Carrie said in a suggestive voice.
Abby raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid at least one of them is off the table.”
“Ah, well,” Carrie said with an exaggerated sigh while shooting a glance in Mari’s direction, “I guess I’m totally out of luck, then.”
Mari pretended she wasn’t blushing.
“And I’ve already got my Rivers sister,” Presley said. “So there go all the hot, sexy ones—”
“Okay, I’m still here,” Carson said loudly. “Sisters, remember? And I already know how gorgeous they are. I had to grow up in their footsteps.”
Carrie patted her knee. “Believe me, if you had been headed in that direction, you’d have been fighting off the girls.”
Carson laughed. “Yeah, I’m the outlier. Well, I don’t know about Margie at this point, but I’m the boring straight one.”
Everyone laughed and Mari let herself be drawn into the closeness, the easiness of being who they were, the acceptance of difference. And when her image of a sexy woman didn’t conjure any of the Rivers sisters, she didn’t resist. Just for a minute.
“Speaking of gorgeous women,” Carrie said, “I believe I hear a truckload of them on their way.”
A big dusty black pickup truck rumbled into the far end of the yard, the doors swung open, and few seconds later, Harper, Flann, Glenn, Blake, and Margie clambered out and trooped across the yard.
“What did Lila make for breakfast?” Margie called, hopping up onto the back porch.
“Too late,” Carrie said. “The bread basket is empty.”
“No,” Blake and Margie shouted at the same time.
Laughing, Carrie pointed to the screen door. “Cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins. There might be one or possibly two left.”
Margie and Blake slammed into the house. Flann leaned down and kissed Abby as Harper slid over by Presley’s rocker.
“Is everyone done with the planning?” Harper asked as she cupped Presley’s nape, long fingers stroking her throat.
“You know, we could probably find some chores for you to do,” Presley said, sliding her fingers over Harper’s. “It’s really not fair that you just need to show up and look handsome at the wedding.”
“Hey,” Harper protested, “I’m helping my mother with the guest list. Believe me, that’s work.”
“An excuse,” Presley said, “but a good one.”
Mari lost track of the playful back and forths, too busy watching Glenn brace her arms on the railing and lift herself up onto it in a quick fluid move. She perched at the edge of the gathering, watching, laughing occasionally, now and then making a comment. As much as she was a part of everything, she was also alone. An island. Her solitude called to Mari in some deep place and she desperately wanted to be beside her, to ask her…anything—how her night was, if she’d heard about Blake’s surgery, if she thought the clear blue sky was as amazingly beautiful as Mari found it.
Glenn glanced over and met Mari’s gaze. The pull on her consciousness was so fierce, Mari swore Glenn knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t even pretend her next move was against her will, not when she rose, skirted the ring of rockers, and leaned against the railing on Glenn’s far side, out of earshot of everyone. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Glenn said.
“I can’t believe everybody was piled into that one pickup truck. Why didn’t you all bring more cars?”
“I’m designated driver for anybody who needs a ride after the barbecue today. Well, the kids won’t be drinking, but the others might want a beer or two.”
“I could do that,” Mari said. “I’m on call tonight, so I won’t be drinking. If you wanted to have a drink.”
“I can take it or leave it,” Glenn said. “But thanks.”
“If you change your mind, just let me know.” Mari started to move away and Glenn caught her hand. She stilled, every muscle in her body instantly frozen midmotion, lest she move too far away and the contact disappear.
“If you want to ride over to the barbecue with me, I can get the kids to ride with Carrie. Flann and Harper will probably ride over with Presley and Abby.”
“Thanks,” Mari said. After all, that’s what friends did, right? Enjoyed each other’s company. “I’d like that.”
For one endless moment, Glenn’s hand tightened around hers before slipping away. “Good. Me too.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you about ready to head over?” Glenn asked when Mari returned to her side during a lull in the animated exchanges about caterers, menus, tents versus no tents, and the advisability of elopement. Currently the latter was off the table.
“Whenever you are,” Mari said, “but I should check with Carrie first. Make sure she doesn’t need me. I came over with her earlier.”
“Sure. No rush.” Glenn was content to sit with the sun on her back, listening to her friends plan the future and watching Mari slowly becoming one of their group. She had an easy way about her, joining in the conversations where it was natural, easing back from the personal exchanges, and absorbing the good-natured teasing that flowed between siblings and old friends in all directions indiscriminately. When Mari laughed, her face glowed and her pleasure rippled over Glenn’s skin like warm currents of summer air. She wasn’t just beautiful then, she was indescribable.
