The Long Way Home

by Rachel Spangler

  “Point taken.” Raine stood up to go, but before she reached the door, Flores stopped her.

  “Raine, we really are happy to have you here.”

  “Thank you.” For the first time she was actually starting to believe that.

  *

  September 1

  “Hello,” Kelly called as she came through Beth’s back door. She’d never lived there, but they were past the point of knocking. Kelly placed a bottle of white wine on the counter and kissed Beth. This had been their Tuesday-night routine for years.

  Kelly wrapped her arms around Beth’s waist and drew her near. “I’ve missed you.”

  Beth returned the hug, enjoying the feel of Kelly’s body. She was comforting, solid, familiar. “I’ve missed you too.”

  They broke contact, and Kelly set the table while Beth checked the pork roast in the oven. Behind her, Kelly rested her chin on Beth’s shoulder and nuzzled her neck, mumbling, “Smells delicious.”

  “It’s almost ready.”

  Kelly kissed her cheek and went back to the table. “I wasn’t talking about the food.”

  Beth flushed at the compliment. Kelly said things like that often enough to remind her that she found her attractive, but not frequently enough to make her expect them. Beth had never considered herself beautiful, so it still surprised her when Kelly said something to that effect.

  The meal was a success, and they had two helpings while they caught up on the events of the past two weeks. Kelly told Beth about the cases she was working on as the town accountant. Beth talked about the influx of students at the library. Their conversation continued easily as they cleaned the dishes, Kelly washing and Beth drying. Their routine was set after years of identical Tuesday nights, and Beth found it reassuring that the strain of the past two weeks dissipated under familiar circumstances.

  Of course the topic of Rory hadn’t come up, and Beth didn’t intend to broach it. Her friendship with Rory was likely to remain an issue between her and Kelly, but it didn’t need to infiltrate all their conversations. Beth had plenty of friends, as did Kelly, and none of them ever factored into the way they related to each other, so why should Rory? Then again, Beth didn’t stay out until midnight talking about sex with her other friends.

  Rory wasn’t a casual acquaintance. Beth had sought out and continued to be drawn to her despite the fact that Rory seemed to invite trouble. Beth couldn’t even manage to stay away from Rory when her lover asked her to.

  Perhaps that made their friendship more complicated than others, but right now Beth and Kelly were having a lovely evening reconnecting. Why ruin it by mentioning irrelevant information? Rory had no bearing on what Beth shared with Kelly, so why was she still thinking about her?

  Once the dishes were done, Kelly took both of Beth’s hands and led her to the bedroom. Now they would make love. It was the culmination of their time together, the rewarding end to their routine. Beth knew it would happen, she even knew how it would happen, and still she blushed at the intimacy in Kelly’s eyes as she laid her gently on the bed.

  “I love you,” Kelly whispered.

  Beth smiled at the sweet endearment.

  They kissed slowly, gently, as Kelly unbuttoned Beth’s blouse and peeled it off her shoulders. She ran her hands over her torso and unclasped her bra, pausing to caress her breasts. Kelly handled her body as though it were made of porcelain. She’d always been a tender lover, which Beth needed, especially in the early days when they were learning. Beth was emotionally fragile in the wake of her parents’ death, her emotions compounded by the fear and wonder that came with falling in love for the first time. Kelly had been patient and understanding. It’d been her first time as well, and they had both been timid.

  Kelly removed her own shirt and pants before she guided Beth’s slacks over her hips, leaving only their underwear between them. Beth slid her hands along the length of Kelly’s body from her thighs to her breasts and cupped them gently as she guided Kelly on top of her. Over the years their confidence had grown and they’d both become increasingly adept as they learned more about each other’s bodies. Still, the tone of their lovemaking never changed. They always handled each other with care.

  Nestling her hand between Beth’s legs, Kelly lightly stroked her, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Beth’s body responded and she closed her eyes to focus on the physical sensations. She felt Kelly lower herself onto her thigh and rock in time with Beth’s motions. Her own wetness increased when she felt the evidence of Kelly’s arousal on her leg.

  Kelly didn’t talk during sex, and she didn’t get overly demonstrative even during orgasm. She remained so composed and controlled that at times her body offered the only proof of her desire, so Beth took satisfaction in knowing she was responsible for the hardness she felt against her now as she lifted her thigh to meet Kelly’s motions.

  Beth clenched in anticipation as she noticed the signs of her own impending climax. Her breath grew shallow and her muscles began to contract on their own. It wouldn’t be long now before she had her release, and she wanted to make sure Kelly had what she needed as well. She clasped Kelly’s hips and pulled her down harder, their movements losing their rhythm only in the final seconds before they came, quietly shuddering in each other’s arms. Then they fell still, their bodies limp against each other, the silence broken only by the sound of their breath as they slowly regained their composure.

  Kelly propped herself up on her elbow and kissed Beth’s temple. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She did love Kelly. She’d loved her even before the first time they made love, and she loved her still after all these years, but hearing the words also brought sadness because it was the final step in their evening. It wasn’t a spontaneous “I love you.” It was a prelude to good-bye.

  Kelly would leave soon. She’d say that she wanted to stay, but the fear of raising suspicions would win out, and she’d return to her own home. This, too, was part of their routine, the part Beth found increasingly less comforting. Kelly wouldn’t jump up immediately. She’d stay and cuddle, whisper sweet words into Beth’s ear, and make plans to see her again, but their connection had reached its peak for the night. From here on, Beth would be waiting for the moment when Kelly’s car pulled out of the driveway and she was left in her solitude once more.

  Chapter Ten

  September 4

  Raine knocked on the frame of Miles’s screen door and then entered when she heard his invitation to come in. She wandered through the living room and dining room and found him in the kitchen, a cast-iron skillet in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other.

  “Hey,” she said, taking in Miles, who was still dressed for work in black slacks and a white button-down shirt. However, he had removed his tie and wore an apron with Michelangelo’s David’s torso and genitalia across the front of it. Raine chuckled. “Not one for subtlety, are you?”

  “I’m the picture of subtlety all week long, but it’s Friday night and it’s just us bois here. Or are you one of those lesbians who’re offended by the idea that men have bodies too?”

  “No, men don’t offend me, nor do any of their parts, especially when those parts are cooking for me.” Raine bent over the stove to peek at what was in the skillet. “Oh, my God, is that arroz con pollo?”

  “Good eye,” Miles said appreciatively, then flipped on the oven light. “Check that out.”

  Raine bent down. “What’s that?”

  “Peaches that have been pitted, filled with chèvre, and wrapped in prosciutto to hold them together while they cook.”

  Raine grabbed Miles’s face and kissed his cheek hard. “You’re a god.”

  He laughed heartily and shooed her in to set the table while he finished the meal.

  Raine couldn’t shovel the food into her mouth fast enough and had to restrain herself from moaning. “Where did you get saffron? Or the goat cheese? I’ve been in the only store in town, and they didn’t even have salmon. Don’t tell me I miss
ed the chèvre.”

  “I don’t shop there,” Miles said in a superior tone. “My first week in town I went to the grocery store and asked for brie cheese.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I kid you not, the woman working the checkout scrunched up her nose and said, ‘You want green cheese?’ I thought maybe she was hard of hearing, so I yelled, ‘No, brie,’ and again she yelled back at me, ‘Green?’”

  Raine was laughing hard at the thought of Miles and Mrs. Anthony yelling “brie” and “green” at each other. “Did you ever get through to her?”

  “I got out a pen and wrote the word ‘brie,’ and she shook her head and said she’d never heard of it.” Miles was obviously still appalled at the encounter. “Can you believe that?”

  “I believe it,” Raine said seriously. “Meat, potatoes, sugar, salt, milk, and flour. That’s the entirety of this town’s culinary needs. I’m used to it. I even like the comfort food, but how has someone with your tastes survived?”

  “I drive down to St. Louis every two weeks to Soulard Market. That place is not for the faint of heart, but they have everything, and it’s all fresh.”

  “Great idea. More people would do that if they weren’t terrified of driving in St. Louis.”

  “What’s with that?” Miles asked cattily. “People around here act like Satan himself is in city traffic.”

  “They’re afraid of anything outside this tiny little box of a town. It threatens their sheltered existence.”

  “I like small-town life, most of the time. I like the students I work with. I love it that people wave to each other, hold doors, and say ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir,’ but what’s wrong with injecting a little culture into that way of life?”

  Raine thought about that. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have both. I’ve always considered small towns and big ideas mutually exclusive. Most people here think the same way. Anything new is dangerous to their way of life.”

  “Ugh, Kelly said the same damn thing yesterday. She wouldn’t even try the hummus I made. She wanted cheese and sausage on saltines.”

  “I’ve mentioned before that Kelly is a tool.”

  Miles laughed. “Don’t be shy. Tell me how you really feel.”

  “In elementary school, she was a tattletale. In high school she was a narc. Now she’s a bitch. She was never sweet or innocent, but she thought she was better than everyone else, and she wanted you to know it too. I think she’s hated me since before we could even crawl. I was a rule bender, and she was the perpetual hall monitor.” Raine was on a roll now. “She must’ve ratted me out a hundred times over the years. She was one of the ones I knew would love to find out I was gay so she could tell the whole town.”

  “That’s ironic,” Miles said, sipping his wine.

  “I never thought she’d be a dyke, but don’t let her fool you with all her talk about respecting people’s wishes. If she could’ve used my sexual orientation to get leverage over me, she would’ve.” Raine didn’t even pretend to know the limits of Kelly’s hypocrisy. “If I never saw her again, that would be fine with me, but it pisses me off that she’s dating Beth. Why would Beth even waste her time with someone like her?”

  Miles’s eyebrows shot up. “A little sensitive about our beloved Beth?”

  “What? No.” Raine was surprised she’d gotten worked up over Kelly and somehow spun all that emotion back around to Beth. “You have to admit, it’s a mismatch, right?”

  “A little bit,” Miles shrugged, “but really, aside from Kelly’s need to be so secretive, they seem okay. They were back to their usual happy selves last Sunday.”

  “They were together Sunday? I thought they were separated because Kelly was freaking out.”

  “Apparently she got over it. They didn’t arrive together, of course, but they were sweet when they were here, and Kelly kissed her good-bye.”

  The thought of Kelly kissing Beth made Raine nauseous. Beth had such beautifully full lips, and if their appearance was any indication, they would be soft to the touch as well. Why would she share that softness with Kelly, who was hard and unbending? Kelly wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like that.

  Beth was stunning. She deserved to be put on display, not tucked away in a closet. If Raine had a woman like Beth, she would never be satisfied with a chaste kiss behind a closed door. She’d walk right down Main Street holding her hand, and she wouldn’t leave her side, even for one night.

  “I don’t see how that relationship could ever work, but hey, it’s none of my business.” Raine had a sip of her wine, hoping the alcohol would quickly cloud the images in her head. It was absurd to think of Beth romantically. She was the darling of Darlington, and other than being gorgeous, Beth wasn’t Raine’s type at all. Closeted women came with too much baggage.

  *

  September 9

  Beth was making one of her customary passes though the library when she saw Rory sitting on the floor between two stacks of books. Her back was to the aisle, and she was hunched over a text that she’d opened in her lap. It didn’t seem like a very comfortable position, so Beth interrupted.

  “The tables and chairs we have in here aren’t plush, but they’re an upgrade from the floor.”

  Rory looked up, startled, and then smiled broadly, her dimples peeking out at both corners of her mouth. “Hey, stranger. I spent a whole week without being ambushed. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

  The comment caught Beth off guard. As much as Rory complained about being pressured to go out with her the past two times, Beth thought she would’ve enjoyed a weekend without interruptions. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about her. She’d thought about her too much. She’d picked up the phone to call several times and even driven by once, but she didn’t want to push.

  Rory hadn’t indicated that she wanted to be barged in on, and even if she had, Beth was trying to reconnect with Kelly. Spending the weekend with Rory certainly wouldn’t help with that. “So you decided to sprawl on my library floor in the hopes of getting my attention?”

  “I hadn’t intended to camp out here. I got lost in what I was reading.”

  “You’ve found plenty to keep you busy. Let’s move it someplace more spacious.” Beth offered a hand to pull Rory off the floor, but the rush of lightheadedness when their fingers touched made her worry that she’d be the one who needed assistance.

  Rory seemed unfazed and got quickly to her feet. “Thanks. Where do you suggest?”

  Beth indicated a large table in the corner that offered both space and privacy. She helped Rory carry a stack of journals, reading a few of the titles as she piled them on the table. They were all psychology journals. “Are you changing fields of study, or are you worried that Darlington is affecting your psyche?”

  Rory released one of those easy laughs that made Beth feel giddy with the thought that she’d caused it. “I’m sure it is, but that’s not why I’m reading. I’m trying to find some research on gay and lesbian identity development for an article.”

  Beth sat at the table next to Rory. “Sounds interesting. What’re you finding?”

  “Some standard models that lay out the stages gays and lesbians go through in the coming-out process. They start with people beginning to suspect they’re gay and progress until the person is well adjusted, acknowledging their sexuality as a part of them, but not letting it define who they are,” Rory explained, pointing to a chart in one of the articles.

  She gestured as she talked, and Beth noticed how beautiful her hands were. Her fingers were long and slender, and unadorned, with nothing to distract from the grace of their movement. Rory was probably good with her hands. She seemed to be good at everything.

  “So,” Rory continued, “I’m researching the stages in the middle.”

  “And what is this project?” Beth forced her attention from Rory’s hands to her eyes, though she quickly realized she wouldn’t fare any better by staring into that sea of emerald.

  “I
want to explore what causes some people to stay closeted in a small town while others fight to break free.”

  Beth frowned. “Sounds personal. Can you remain unbiased on the subject?”

  Rory’s half-smile was cocky. “I don’t have to. I’m not an academic. I write everything from a personal viewpoint. That’s what’s made me successful. I don’t distance myself from the subject matter. I live it.”

  It was true. Rory had made a name for herself by giving her side of her story, and when people learned she’d returned to Darlington, they’d want her to extrapolate broader lessons from her personal experiences. But Beth didn’t like the sound of where she was headed. “Surely you plan to inject some objectivity, though, or you wouldn’t be doing research.”

  Raine chuckled. “I plan to use the existing models as a springboard for my own ideas, then draw conclusions from my experience and observations as to what drives our responses.”

  “So you’re planning to say that one option is healthier than the other? Dare I guess which one of us you think has chosen the better path?”

  “Well.” Rory furrowed her brow. “Strictly speaking, if you don’t come out of the closet, it’s impossible to move toward a full realization of your identity. The research is broad. I’m not attacking you personally.”

  “I thought you saw everything from a personal viewpoint.”

  “Touché,” Raine said, with forced lightness.

  “Rory, I mean Raine.” Beth corrected herself because she knew that Raine, not Rory, would be publishing the article. “When you say nasty things about Darlington, you’re talking about real people. You’re writing about Lindsay and Mrs. Anthony, of course, but you’re writing about Tyler and your family and me, too. I’m not asking you to lie, but I hope you think about who your words affect.”

  Beth wanted to say more. She wanted to beg Rory to open her eyes to all the people who cared about her. Mostly, though, she wanted to tell Rory to stop viewing her as some caricature that she could easily put into a box marked townie, good girl, or closeted and see her as a real woman with her own hopes and desires.