A Reluctant Enterprise

by Gun Brooke

  “I think they’re done,” Aeron said and rose. She poked a kabob with a fork. “Yes, they are.” They got four sticks each and shared a sourdough baguette Aeron had grilled.

  Sylvie ate with pleasure and could tell Aeron was as starved as she was. Aeron hurried into the kitchen at one point and returned with an entire pitcher of lemonade, which made Sylvie almost hug her. That was another strange reaction on her part. She wasn’t the touchy-feely kind, but she kept finding excuses to pat Aeron, and this notion to actually hug her…she had to harness herself.

  “Maeve never came here.” Aeron spoke so quietly, Sylvie almost missed her words.

  “No?”

  “I know Paulina thinks I should’ve made more of an effort to invite her. You know? Be the bigger person or whatever. I’ve never told Paulina this, but I did invite her here, and she said she’d come. I worked like a madwoman, had everything all taken care of and was about to drive to Albany to be at the airport in time, when she called and said she couldn’t make it.”

  “Why not?” Sylvie could easily hear the hurt still present in Aeron’s voice.

  “She was at a beach party in the Hamptons. As she put it, they’d just had margaritas on the beach when she remembered to call me. Ten minutes before I was to leave for the airport to pick her up! I just stared at my spotless cabin and my first book that I’d signed for her, as I wanted to surprise her. She had no idea I’d published a book. I’d made my bed with the type of bedding she loved, with a gazillion thread count and such, and planned on using the guest room, which wasn’t as nice as it is now. I’d mowed the lawn, weeded around the house, and washed the outdoor furniture. I think I worked from morning till bedtime for four days. And she forgets she’s supposed to come.”

  “She must’ve felt horrible.” Sylvie hoped so.

  “Not really. Not judging from how she was halfway talking to me and halfway giggling with some young guy, saying, ‘Oh, Donnie, stop. There are people here, stop…’” Aeron gave a quiet sob. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous for weeping over such old stuff now.”

  “No, don’t say that. Go on. What did you tell her then?” Sylvie really wanted to know. This was her chance to see another side of Maeve.

  “I told her she’d done this to me for the last time. I’d grown up with low self-esteem. This wasn’t anything new. On rare occasions, Maeve would put her mom-hat on and we’d play house for a few hours at most, not very long but long enough for me, as a child, to get my hopes up. And this time, showing me where her priorities lay, she made it very clear—I wasn’t the one she’d ever choose above everybody else. I was nothing.”

  “Oh, Aeron.” Furious at the Maeve of several years ago, Sylvie rounded the table and sat down next to Aeron. Carefully she pulled her in for a hug. She wasn’t surprised to find Aeron rigid and trembling. Such hurtful old memories tended to dwell in the muscle memory.

  “So, I hung up and half-expected, or at least hoped, she’d try to call back, but she didn’t. She was there in the Hamptons drugging, drinking, and screwing around with a young man named Donnie, and I was here. I remember burning the author copy I’d signed for her. I sat by the fireplace and watched the flames devour all the words I’d written, the story I’d created, and I promised myself that she’d never visit here. Ever. And that’s how it turned out.”

  “I can only try to imagine how hurt you must’ve felt. I won’t compare myself to you, since we all handle things differently, but I do know what it can be like to feel betrayed.”

  “Yes. I saw her a few times in New York after that, but during the last five years of her life, I talked to her only on the phone. Never in real life.” Slumping sideways, Aeron hid her face against Sylvie’s shoulder. “And now it’s too fucking late anyway. She’s gone. Not that she was mine before, but now she’ll never be. She’ll never learn about my modest success when it comes to my writing.”

  “I know it’s hardly any consolation, but she was working toward all that. Her motives for trying to better herself aren’t entirely clear, but I suspect it had a lot to do with you. She put together her will after she started paying attention to her family’s business. Perhaps she feared you might be tempted to walk in her footsteps and wanted you to have options. Didn’t she say something like that on the tape?”

  “In other words, but yes. I suppose so.” Aeron lifted her head. “I’m sorry for pouring all of this on you. You have your own wacky family member to deal with.”

  Sylvie had to chuckle at the idea of anyone calling Daniel Thorn wacky. “As I said, I want to hear about what happened to you. I really do want to help, contract or no contract.” Sylvie was stunned at how true this was. No matter the deal they’d signed, she wanted to be of use to Aeron, so bruised by a thoughtless and selfish mother,

  “Why don’t we do the dishes and then have another look at the diary?” Sylvie suggested, wanting to redirect Aeron’s thoughts.

  “Yeah? You want to do that? You’re not too tired?”

  Sylvie snorted. “I may have fifteen years on you, but I’m made of quite sturdy stuff.”

  Aeron grinned. “I’ll say. Sitting here with me drowning you in tears is no small feat.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Sylvie rose and began to gather the dirty plates and place them on a tray. “I’m famous for my unswayable courage.”

  Aeron got up to help, and together they carried everything back inside, after making sure the grill could be left unattended. Sylvie filled the dishwasher while Aeron placed condiments back into the refrigerator, and even if they didn’t exchange many words, the ambiance in the cabin felt calm and the fresh air easy to breathe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adirondacks—Fall 2010

  Curious where the path through the woods led to, Aeron strolled slowly while inhaling the crisp air. The sun seemed pale and distant, as it barely penetrated the clouds. She hadn’t been farther than her garden, although that wasn’t a good name for the overgrown lot where her cabin was built. She’d have to put in a lot of hours clearing the weeds and shrubbery.

  Aeron walked for ten minutes before she saw another house through the pine trees. She didn’t intend to start her life in the new neighborhood by trespassing, so she slowed down and tried to find some markings that indicated where these people’s property started. Perhaps she was already trespassing?

  “Hello there?” A husky voice startled Aeron, and she took a step back while trying to pinpoint where it came from.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Hey, don’t run away.” A woman in her late forties, devastatingly beautiful, stepped out on the path about ten yards from her. “You’re our new neighbor, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I suppose so. I moved in a week ago. My name is Aeron. Aeron DeForest.”

  “Carolyn Black.” The woman took off some work gloves and extended an elegant hand. “Nice to meet you, Aeron.”

  “Carolyn Black?” Aeron gawked at the woman before her. How could she have missed that? This was one of the most famous and popular actors in the US, perhaps even the world. Diana Maddox. Who hadn’t read the books about the immensely popular lesbian criminal investigator? And here she was, in the flesh, in a manner of speaking. “Good to meet you too.”

  “Want to come over and say hello to Annelie? I believe she’s making one of her famous apple-raspberry pies.” Carolyn waved to Aeron to follow her. “You like pies?”

  “I do.” Annelie? That had to be the woman Carolyn Black had unexpectedly fallen in love with. It had been headline news a couple of years ago, and like most other people at her university, Aeron had devoured it. More and more lesbian celebrities had come out, and in Aeron’s mind, they were all cool and brave for doing so. It had taken her quite a while to realize her own sexual orientation. Having people like Carolyn Black and Annelie Peterson as role models meant a lot.

  She followed Carolyn quietly and saw the tall, blond woman before she spotted them.

  “Look who I found skulking a
round.” Carolyn walked up to her partner and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Our new neighbor, Aeron DeForest. This is Annelie, my fiancée.”

  Annelie tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at her. “DeForest,” she said slowly. “Any relation to Maeve DeForest?”

  “She’s my mother. We don’t see each other very often.”

  “I see. I’ve met your mother only twice, I believe, at some charity events in New York. Well, now that we’ve been introduced, I’m going to win you over by offering you a slice of my pie with homemade custard. You’ll love it.” Annelie smiled warmly and walked into the log cabin, three times the size of Aeron’s. The interior was typical for this type of house, very rustic. Aeron longed to start renovating her cabin and decided to shamelessly steal ideas from this cozy home.

  “Have a seat,” Carolyn said and pointed toward a tall stool by the kitchen island. We usually have our meals here when we’re not eating on the patio. A bit too nippy for that today.”

  “Thanks.” Aeron sat and watched the interaction between the two women. Carolyn, poised and elegant, Annelie, at least ten years her junior, tall and lithe, and yet they were so clearly…one. Two individuals but joined in something that had to be love. Aeron had observed friends fall heads over heels, or so they claimed, and watched them crash and burn after weeks, months, or even years. To her it appeared that love was far too dangerous. She wasn’t stupid. She was well aware of her well-founded trust issues.

  “Coffee or tea?” Carolyn asked and moved to a futuristic-looking espresso machine. “I can make anything you want with this baby.”

  “Oh. Wow. Um. A latte, double shot of espresso?”

  “A girl after my own heart,” Carolyn said and looked triumphantly at Annelie, who snorted softly.

  “I’m in favor of tea these days, but I’ll have a half-espresso shot in my latte, Carolyn.”

  They sat down at the kitchen island, Aeron and Carolyn on one side and Annelie at an angle from them. When both her hostesses looked at her with such expectation, Aeron had to laugh.

  “What are you thinking? Am I supposed to share my life history?” She grinned.

  “It’s a start. I want to know everything about you,” Carolyn said. “I’m not sure why, but as soon as I saw you among the trees, it was as if I knew you.”

  The famous actor’s frank words surprised her. She was pretty sure Carolyn didn’t say something like this to just any stranger, in the woods or otherwise.

  “I’m from New York. Manhattan. I’m a newly graduated English/history major and am writing my first novel.”

  The way Carolyn and Annelie leaned in when she talked opened the floodgates. Aeron told them about the main twists and turns of her childhood, and even if she didn’t say how she felt about her decision to stay away from her mother, she got the impression they understood that too.

  “Well, I for one think it was a blessing you bought the cabin next to ours. It’s been under-utilized for the last ten years, or so we’ve heard.”

  “Twelve,” Aeron said. “The garden, or what you might call the jungle, is proof of nature’s ability to take over.”

  “Want some help?” Annelie asked.

  Again she felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit’s hole or two. “Sure, but you’ve seen it, right? It’s pretty bad.”

  “I’ve seen it.” Annelie nodded with an odd gleeful expression.

  “You’d be doing her a favor. She bought a full set of different garden tools last spring and has whipped our garden into submission twice already.” Carolyn ran the back of her hand along Annelie’s jawline. “You’re dying to use that brush cutter, aren’t you?”

  “Busted.” Annelie took Carolyn’s hand and kissed her palm.

  Aeron blinked at the small tears rising in her eyes. This. This was what everyone who spoke of love wanted. This connection. She wanted it but was sure it wasn’t for her. Aeron recognized that she was observing Carolyn and Annelie’s interaction like she would a priceless painting at a museum. So beautiful and desirable…and out of reach. No money in the world could buy you this, and she was only too aware of that fact. Being friends with Carolyn and Annelie and basking in their interest would have to be enough.

  *

  Adirondacks—Present Time

  Voices boomed, echoed, and faded. Aeron tried to cover her ears, but her hands were stuck somehow, and she screamed for the people around her to let go. Instead, they held on harder, telling her to calm down, it would soon be over. Not sure how she knew they were lying, Aeron called out her mother’s name.

  “Aeron, please. Wake up.” A gentle voice laced with concern filtered through the nightmare.

  “Wh-what?” Aeron opened her eyes and saw the outline of a person sitting on the side of her bed. “No! You’re dead! You died!”

  “Aeron, it’s Sylvie. I’m in your guest room, remember?” Sylvie’s voice was even and reassuring, and the way her hands held on gently to Aeron’s shoulders grounded her.

  “Sylvie? Who…Oh. Of course.” Groaning, Aeron rubbed a hand over her face. “For a moment…”

  “You called out for Maeve. Did you think I was her?”

  “Yes. Probably. Oh, God.” Grimacing, Aeron shuddered and tried to clear the nightmare from her mind. She’d had it before, many times, but this time, waking up with a woman sitting on her bed, it had really rattled her. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “Wait. Let me help you.” Sylvie reached over to the nightstand. “Watch your eyes. I’m turning on the light.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Aeron opened them quickly again as the dream still seemed to hover at the edges of her field of vision, just waiting to reappear. She watched Sylvie pour some water from her pitcher and hand her the glass. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Drinking in slow, deep gulps, Aeron handed the glass back. “One more, please?”

  “Sure.” Sylvie repeated the process, and this time the water finally quenched Aeron’s thirst.

  “I’m okay,” Aeron said, feeling awkward now when the light was on and embarrassment surged within her. What was Sylvie thinking? Was she sorry she’d come along to the Adirondacks? Did she think Aeron was too frail and weak to carry on with their agreement? Furious for second-guessing herself—and Sylvie—and creating new mind-ghosts when she had no reason for stupid speculations, she guardedly looked at Sylvie.

  “I’m glad you feel better,” Sylvie said and tugged at her dark-blue shorts as if this would make them cover more. She also wore a matching lace-trimmed tank top. “I was on my way back from the bathroom when I heard you.”

  “Yeah. Nightmares. Sort of a same old, same old.” Aeron rubbed her eyes and squinted at the alarm clock. “Three thirty? Great. That’s just a few hours of sleep. I’m going to look like a wreck tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean? Are you getting up?” Sylvie also looked at the clock. “Can’t you go back to sleep?”

  “No, not normally. What tends to happen is—” Feeling skinless, she stopped herself before she shared too much. “Just not a good idea.”

  Sylvie extended her hand and carefully took Aeron’s chin between her thumb and index finger. With the lightest of pressure, she tipped Aeron’s head back and met her gaze. Her scent bewitched Aeron’s senses. “The nightmare keeps going, like in a loop?” she asked cautiously.

  Aeron could hardly breathe but did her best to not let on how the gentle touch affected her. “Yes. Sometimes that happens. Often enough for me to not want to risk it.”

  “Because you’re usually home alone?”

  “Usually? Yes. Or always.” Smiling wryly, Aeron pulled up her knees and hugged them to her chest under the covers. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I’m a bit of a recluse.”

  “You and me both,” Sylvie muttered and slowly withdrew her hand. “It’s the strangest thing. Every time I think we’re very different, you say or do something, or describe something that mirrors something from my own past or present. I won’t tell you right now how all of this
ties in to my own experience, since I’d rather you’d try going back to sleep.”

  “But—”

  “I’m a light sleeper, and if you sound this distraught again, I’ll hear you, and I’ll come and wake you up. Perhaps not being here alone and having someone to talk to has caused you not to have to process whatever you’re dreaming of right away?”

  “Perhaps,” Aeron said. “Okay, I’ll try. If I have another one, I’ll get up and be really quiet.”

  “Fair enough.” Standing, Sylvie remained by the bed for a few moments while Aeron curled up on her right side.

  “Thanks,” Aeron said, yawning. “Will you be able to get back to sleep?”

  “I think so.” Sylvie didn’t look entirely convinced. Did she also suffer from nightmares or perhaps insomnia?

  “You know, I feel better knowing you’re here.” Aeron regretted her words at first, but when Sylvie gave her the softest of smiles, she was glad she’d spoken the truth. Something told her not a great many people ever saw Sylvie smile like that.

  As Sylvie said good night and padded out of her room, Aeron was unwilling to turn off the light completely and instead put the dimmer on its lowest setting. Listening to the wind coming through the maples and sweeping along the windows, she hugged her pillow close, thinking of the reoccurring nightmare. Having gone through an invasive medical procedure at age nine, something she later learned Maeve pushed for and finally found a doctor to sign off on, she remembered crying for Maeve and Paulina. The staff did their best to console her, but she was in full panic mode, and the fear stayed with her for many nights over the years.

  “And, you know what, Maeve?” Aeron whispered. “They never found anything wrong with me. All those tests, all that poking and prodding, and Dr. Burke was right the entire time.”