The cabin turned out to be less rustic than Sarah expected. It was a luxury cottage compared to Grannie MacNeil's little home. There was a large central room and a Jacuzzi just outside the back door, a modern kitchen and a large master bedroom flanked by two more bedrooms. The washing, machine worked, Melissa explained, but the dryer had mysteriously decided to spin only cold air. With the weather turning cold it meant drying clothes next to the wood stove, and she'd already scorched two shirts and her favorite socks.
Sarah assured Melissa she would not need to do laundry. They snacked on the contents of the picnic basket Sarah had brought with her, then went for a walk along the highway, turning east on a little path that ran down to the shore.
The sun had already dropped below the mountains behind them, and the last of its rays were glinting off the buildings of downtown Seattle, just across the Sound to the south. The lights were coming up and they sat until the city glowed. From the water came wind laden with the scent of salt and kelp and fish. The pine trees moved against the sky with a dull roar that took Sarah back to her earliest memories of Grannie MacNeil's farm.
Sarah breathed in the aroma of the sea. "I can see why you love this place."
"It's very inspiring. I'm thinking of writing an essay about solitude and creativity. I bounced the idea off one of the judges of the Lammy Awards and she thought it could be interesting."
"Lammy Awards?"
"The Lambda Book Awards for gay and lesbian writers, publishers and editors. Being a judge is very prestigious."
Sarah digested that information, reflecting that there were parts of the community she knew nothing about. Too many patents. "Am I interfering with your writing by staying the weekend?"
"Of course not," Melissa said, leaning over to kiss her. "You are also inspiring. Inspiration is important to me.",
Sarah was a little ashamed of her blatant fishing for a compliment. "Shucks. That's just what I wanted to hear."
"Besides, I haven't been writing much. My computer is kind of quirky and it sometimes works better if I leave it alone for a while."
"That doesn't sound good," Sarah said. "It only boots when the moon is full?"
"Something like that," Melissa said with a laugh. "I don't know if there's anything you can do for it. I mean, you use a computer at work, don't you?"
"All day, but I'm not really a systems wizard. But I can take a look."
Their walk back to the cabin was companionably silent. They held hands as they crossed the highway and only broke their grasp when Melissa picked up her mail from the old-fashioned rural mailbox at the foot of the gravel drive.
Sarah loved the sound of their footsteps crunching. She and Melissa were alone in a world of green and wood, and she felt more at peace than she had in months.
Sarah found the bed in the master bedroom comfortable, especially after a long soak in the Jacuzzi and mutually satisfactory massage and lovemaking. She was awakened by a creak of the bedroom floor and opened her eyes as the scent of coffee tickled her nose.
"That's a wonderful sight," Sarah said. "A woman with a cup of coffee in her hand."
"A cup of coffee meant for you, no less." Melissa put the mug down on the bedside table. "I'm out of milk, but I did remember sugar."
"That's okay," Sarah said. "It'll get my heart started." Actually, Melissa in a skimpy bathrobe had gotten her heart started.
Melissa said something about toast and padded back out to the kitchen. Sarah fumbled in her suitcase for the set of sweats she'd brought with her and pulled on a pair of thick socks. Melissa didn't seem to feel the cold.
When she got to the kitchen she found out why — the wood stove heated the entire kitchen and living room to a pleasant temperature.
"Toast," Melissa said, indicating the short stack on the table. "The marmalade is made locally."
"You forgot about your mail," Sarah said, sweeping the small pile off the sofa where Melissa had tossed it the night before. She deposited the mail in front of Melissa and helped herself to toast which she liberally smeared with the marmalade.
"Thanks," Melissa said. "Bill. Bill. Ooh, letter from a publisher."
"Good news, I hope," Sarah said after Melissa had studied the letter for a minute.
"Maybe. I met this woman from McGraw-Hill by chance at a conference on lesbians and the pro-choice movement. She's a big donor to Planned Parenthood. She says that she sent my query on to an editor who might consider a genre fiction project. Hmmm. I wish she'd given me that person's name."
"Well, she forwarded it, which is helpful." Sarah licked her thumb free of the gooey apple-orange marmalade. A large swallow of coffee made her feel almost human.
"That's true," Melissa said brightly. "She really seemed to appreciate my work. We hit it off from the start. Oh, a letter from my friends, the ones I'm house-sitting for. They've been sending me postcards and little updates about the fun they're having in New York. The place they're staying is right in the Village."
"New York is a nice place to visit, but—" Sarah broke off when Melissa made a noise of surprise and alarm.
"They're coming back," she said. "Their friends in Venice decided to come home early and my friends want to spend the rest of their sabbatical here. They say I'm welcome to stay, but... it won't be the same." She stared at the letter and Sarah realized tears were swimming in the corners of Melissa's eyes.
Everything went into slow motion for Sarah. Her own breathing sounded loud in her ears. Her vision narrowed and she saw only Melissa. Nothing else in the world existed — she had found her moment of focus. Melissa was in her sight. She had only to let fly and trust the path of the arrow.
"Come live with me," she said. "I've got lots of room."
Melissa looked up at her in surprise. "You hardly know me—"
"I know you very well, in the Biblical sense," Sarah said, trying to smile. Her heart was hammering painfully against her sternum.
"That's not the same," Melissa said. "I — I don't know what to say."
"Say yes."
"I—you're being very generous."
"Say yes," Sarah said again.
"Are you asking because you have lots of room, or—"
"I'm asking because I want to be near you more than just weekends. I would like to wake up with you every day." Sarah's throat tightened and she managed to choke out, "Please say yes."
"Yes," Melissa said.
"Are you out of your mind?" Debra almost levitated out of her chair. "She's moving in with you?"
"I know," Sarah said. "I think if I listened closely, I'd hear some part of myself screaming in fear. But I can't stop smiling. Every time I think of her I smile and get these fluttery butterflies." Common Sense told Sarah she was babbling. Romance told Common Sense to shut up.
"You're acting like an adolescent."
"No, I've fallen in love."
"It's practically the same thing," Debra said, crushingly. "Love. What is it? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you that love is a construct invented to explain otherwise mad behavior to your friends. I can't believe you asked her to live with you just because she was getting the boot from her housesit. I can see why she said yes —"
"I know exactly why she said yes." Sarah was starting to be annoyed.
"Did you actually see the postmark? Maybe she wrote the letter to herself. Free rent—"
"Debra, don't do this!" Sarah felt an unfamiliar flash of anger.
"Do what? I'm just trying to be sensible, but you won't let me get a word in edgewise."
"Don't make me choose between you and her. Because I'll choose her."
"Geez-us-Christ." Debra fumed across Sarah's desk. "I can't wait to meet her."
"Not with that attitude, you won't."
"Attitude? Attitude? Who's got the attitude here?" Debra spoke through clenched teeth. "You go off to some conference, have a grand boff with some bimbo, and now you've given her the keys to your house?" Debra got to her feet. "But hey, it's your decision. I resp
ect that."
"Thank you," Sarah said sarcastically.
"I can't wait to meet your lady love. I'll be on best behavior."
"I'm glad to hear it. Come to dinner next Wednesday. She'll be all settled by then." Sarah couldn't help her waspish tone.
"Thank you, I'd be delighted," Debra replied just as waspishly. She flounced out of Sarah's office. But this time, Sarah thought, she owes me the chocolate.
"I thought you could use this room as your office and storage. I cleaned out most of my junk. Those are the boxes I brought back with me." Sarah studied Melissa's expression anxiously. It was the smallest of the three bedrooms, but the mountain was visible from one of the windows.
"This will be great," Melissa said. "I think the rest of my boxes will fit here. You wouldn't think I had accumulated so much stuff. This box," she said, kneeling beside one labeled OUT1-5, "is the first five drafts of Outerstream. And this is photographs from conventions and conferences. Look." She held out a picture. "Nina Totenberg and Molly Ivins. They did a talk on women in journalism and I caught them just as they were leaving."
Both women looked rather startled. "I love Molly Ivins," Sarah said, handing back the photograph.
"The photo was used by Lesbian Lives. Of course they couldn't pay me, but I did get a credit and they gave me a carte blanche press credential that's been very useful. I cover conferences and events for them and usually can get in free that way."
"You really work hard," Sarah said. "And sometimes for so little reward."
'It's rewarding to see my name in print," Melissa said, looking up from a handful of photographs. "And I know that someday someone will get a proposal from me and recognize the name from having seen it around, and then I'll be on my way."
"I have complete faith that it will happen someday soon," Sarah said. Melissa's self-confidence was infectious. She liked that Melissa had dreams; she'd had them herself and some of them had come true. "Do you want to empty your car today? Or do it little by little so you can organize?"
"Oh, let's do it now," Melissa said. "The Nova is going to come apart at the seams if I don't get some of the stuff out of it."
They spent the next few hours carrying in boxes and the one suitcase of clothing Melissa possessed. It took a few minutes for her to move her clothes into the drawers and onto the rack and shelves Sarah had emptied for her in the large master bedroom.
The boxes were stacked two deep and five high along one wall of the room Melissa proudly called her office. "There's plenty of room left for a desk and a chair and then I can set up my computer and get going."
"I have a card table in the garage until you find a desk you like."
"A card table is all the desk I need." She turned suddenly and fixed Sarah with her silver gaze. "I — this is the right thing for me, I can tell. I'm feeling really creative and happy. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Sarah said. She basked in Melissa's million-dollar smile. "I really want a shower and some food. What do you think?"
"Would that shower be solitaire, or can anyone join in?"
Sarah waggled her eyebrows in answer. The shower took a most predictable and enjoyable turn when Melissa ran her soapy hands over Sarah's shoulders, then turned Sarah to face the spray.
Melissa's hands began a sensuous journey across Sarah's back. "You have a tattoo," she said, sounding surprised.
Sarah smiled into the water. "Mmm-hmmm."
"It's so small I didn't see it before. What do the circles mean?"
"They stand for the five continents," Sarah said, spluttering a little. "I didn't have a lot of time, so I didn't get them in the right colors. And the tattoo guy didn't really get the overlap right, either."
Melissa's tongue flicked across the tattoo and a delightful shiver ran down Sarah's spine. "It's cute. And sexy."
"Makes a strapless gown interesting."
"You, in a strapless gown?"
"Check the closet, I've got three."
"I'd have never said you were that femmey." Kisses traced from one shoulder blade to the other.
"I am what I am," Sarah said, turning around.
"What's that?" Melissa twined her fingers in the soft curls between Sarah's legs.
"A woman. Who wants you," Sarah said, drawing Melissa's mouth to hers.
Debra handed over a bottle of California Chardonnay and smiled brightly. "Best behavior, I promise."
Sarah smiled wryly. "I'll believe that when I see it," she said, then led the way to the kitchen where Melissa was tossing the salad. She was gratified to see Debra do a double-take, but found Debra's knowing wink — Debra never made any bones about being a physical being living on a physical plane — annoying. She knew without a doubt that Debra thought she was with Melissa because Melissa was gorgeous.
Dinner went surprisingly well. Debra was at her most charming and irreverent, and after dinner she and Melissa discovered the same disdain for some of the movies in Sarah's video collection. They hollered rude comments from the living room as they rooted around for something to watch while Sarah made cappuccino.
After a few minutes they gave up harassing her and she heard the conversation turn to other topics.
"You really met Martina?" Sarah heard the skepticism in Debra's voice.
"Sure. It was at a reception for the Human Rights Campaign Fund. She's really attractive in person."
"I'll bet," Debra said.
"There's a rumor that she'll be at the Women's Entrepreneur Symposium in Portland in a couple of months. I was thinking of going, but I don't have the airfare... or gas money, for that matter. But I might get some bucks from some photos I sent out a few weeks ago. It would be great to see her again."
Debra said again, "I'll bet," and Sarah pursed her lips. It sounded like Debra's best behavior was wearing off.
"I hope you can go," Sarah said as she brought in a tray with large mugs topped with froth and chocolate shavings. "It sounds interesting." It was the first she had heard of the symposium, but she knew that Melissa felt that being in circulation at all sorts of women's events was the only way she would find a forum for her writing, photography and, someday, her film work. She opened her mouth to offer gas money, but Debra interrupted her.
"Sarah met Martina too, didn't you, Sarah?"
Sarah gave Debra her best shut-up-now look. "It's hardly the same thing at all."
Melissa raised her eyebrows. "You could have told me. Here I've been babbling on and on and you could have at least said you knew her."
"I met her. I don't know her," Sarah said. "We exchanged about five words. I believe I said she had played marvelously and she said thank you. That's not 'knowing' somebody."
"You saw her play tennis? Before her career as an activist?"
"Um-hmmm. More pie?" She gestured with the pie tin toward Debra.
Debra shook her head. "Two pieces is my limit." She picked an apple out of the tin and then licked her ringers clean. She sat back with her cappuccino. "This is fabulous," she said, after sipping. "Where was it you met her? Wimbledon? Or the French Open?"
Sarah slapped Debra's hand as she reached for another piece of apple. "I thought you had your limit," she said. "It was the French Open, I don't remember which year."
"Wow," Melissa said. "Are there any other famous dykes you've met and haven't told me about?"
"She's the most famous," Sarah said lightly. "My mother met Eleanor Roosevelt, though."
"Eleanor Roosevelt?" Melissa looked blank. "Oh, the Lorena Hickok thing. I wouldn't say she was a real lesbian."
"Neither would she," Debra said. "But they did share a bed whenever they could and Eleanor was probably not in Franklin's after he fell in love with what's-her-name."
"Her life is not really the typical lesbian one," Melissa said.
"What is a typical lesbian life?" Debra reached for the pie tin, gave Sarah a peevish look and instead licked at the whipped cream on her cappuccino.
"Well, most lesbians do not become the First Lady."
Melissa smiled sweetly. "And most lesbians are not really in the mainstream. They're struggling, confronting homophobia every day. Trying to express themselves."
Debra blinked. "Well, I've always thought that we were ten percent of every type of woman. I suppose that means that there are a few lesbians in the Christian Coalition."
"They aren't real lesbians," Melissa said. "I firmly believe that a lesbian who hasn't come out of the closet isn't really a lesbian yet."
Debra frowned. "I'll admit that there is a profound life change when a woman comes out of the closet, but she was a lesbian before she took that step or she would never have had to come out of the closet."
Sarah interjected, "Debra's a litigator, it doesn't pay to argue with her. She majored in sophistry."
Melissa bit back whatever it was she had been going to say and looked down at her mug instead.
Debra swatted Sarah's arm. "Are there any more of those little cookies?"
"Does your sweet tooth ever quit?"
They wrangled like the good friends they were even though Sarah was miffed by Debra's increasingly patronizing tone with Melissa. She obviously didn't take her seriously. Yes, Melissa was young, just starting out on a career, but Sarah hadn't wanted to crush her enthusiasm by mentioning that she too had met some famous lesbians and non-lesbians in her time.
In my time, she thought. It sounded like her life is over. Like the most exciting part was behind her. There had been a lot of excitement in the past. She looked at Melissa and felt the familiar thump in her ribs. There was going to be a lot of excitement in the future.
When Debra left they cleaned up in companionable silence. Afterwards they sat down in the living room with small glasses of anisette.
Melissa turned to Sarah with a rueful smile. "Your friend is very nice, but I don't think she liked me much."
"Debra is — Debra. She will definitely grow on you. She's a little high-strung, but she's also loyal... and thoughtful in her way."
Embrace in Motion Page 5
