Amor and More

by Radclyffe

  “You’re going to let me take care of you tonight. In the morning, we’ll see how you are. If you’re no better, we will scour the city for a solution. We’ll talk to Master Bernard and every single pyradisté in the kingdom if we have to.”

  “And if they have no more answers than Crowe?”

  “Then I’ll care for you for the rest of your life.”

  “Your fat, easily lost burden?”

  “My beautiful, brilliant, gifted consort.”

  “I don’t want to add to your troubles.”

  Katya’s lips pressed softly to Starbride’s mouth. “Never, my love. Never.”

  Starbride didn’t need her eyes to clasp Katya’s cheeks and return the kiss. Why had she kept anything from Katya at all?

  They parted gently, but Katya stayed close enough that Starbride could almost feel her smile. “Do you need something to take your mind off your troubles? Something you don’t need sight for?”

  “I always like looking at you.”

  “Tell you what.” Katya took her hands and lifted her to her feet. “I’ll keep my eyes closed, and then we’ll be on equal footing.”

  Starbride chuckled and let herself be led, toward the bedroom, she was certain. On the way, she realized that Katya’s voice had become less strained than she’d heard in weeks. It was as if having a problem she could care for had lifted some of the enormous burden Roland had put on Katya’s shoulders.

  Starbride smiled wider. Even after everything that had happened, even after she had drained Katya of her Fiend, Katya loved her still. Katya loved her enough to care for her when she was nearly helpless. Starbride’s mild guilt over taking the Fiend away evaporated. Love was never a reason to feel guilty.

  “Maybe I should blindfold you,” she said as Katya closed the bedroom door behind them. “To make sure you keep your promise.”

  “Whatever pleases you, pleases me.”

  “A silk scarf, then, please.”

  In moments, it was pressed into her hands. Starbride took her time tracing her fingertips from Katya’s waist to her face, eliciting a shudder that made Starbride’s stomach tighten in anticipation. She tied the silk across Katya’s eyes. “Can you see?”

  “Not a bit.”

  Starbride pulled Katya down, kissed her, and then worked the buttons of her coat open. The body underneath, Starbride knew well, and by the way Katya’s hands roamed over Starbride’s own curves, it was obvious that neither needed their eyes.

  Together, they stumbled toward the bed and half fell upon it, laughing. Starbride slipped out of Katya’s grasp and felt Katya searching the sheets for her. Starbride scooted away, feeling for the other side so she didn’t fall off.

  “Come and find me.” She moved again.

  Katya let out a fake growl. “I am not above pulling off this scarf.”

  “That’s cheating.” Starbride felt the mattress shift as Katya pounced. She laughed with delight as Katya scooped her up.

  “I’ve hunted traitors in dark forests. Think I can’t find my love in her bedroom?”

  “How many loves have you hunted in their bedrooms?”

  Instead of answering, Katya kissed Starbride’s throat and licked her way downward. Starbride groaned and grabbed at the knot in the silk scarf, moving Katya’s head where she most desired it.

  Starbride closed her eyes, but the white void remained. She filled it with memories of Katya’s body, picturing her caresses and kisses, letting Katya’s moans be her guide as she had the very first time they’d lain together. She spent her time on areas she knew Katya loved, ear nibbles and the soft undersides of her breasts. And she endeavored to find new territory, letting her hands and mouth explore without her eyes, kissing and tasting every bit of skin. When Katya cried out, Starbride imagined the glow in her eyes, pupils dilated, hunger dulled but never satisfied.

  “I thought I was supposed to be caring for you,” Katya said, nearly a slur of words.

  Starbride smiled proudly. “You did, dearest, you have. Now all you have to do is keep up.”

  Katya laughed. “As my lady wishes it, so shall it be.”

  Starbride laughed as Katya tackled her again and cared for her over and over.

  *

  When Starbride’s eyes cracked open the next morning, her dark thoughts were waiting for her. She might be blinded for good, lost forever in a white void.

  Then she frowned. Something wasn’t right. The white void had become a blue one.

  No, she thought as she stared. Blue and white blurred together. She lifted her head and reached toward the blue. It was the scarf, the silk scarf, now wadded among the sheets. Starbride lifted her head farther and saw a blurry mass of blond hair and a pale face that even as she watched opened a pair of beautiful eyes.

  “Star?”

  “I can see you! Not well, but I can see you.” Happy tears started down her cheeks.

  Katya wrapped her in a hug. “That’s wonderful, Star.”

  “If I’m seeing blurs today…”

  “You might be fully healed by tomorrow.”

  “It was your love,” Starbride said. “Your love healed me.”

  “Well,” Katya tossed her hair over her shoulder, “my skills have never healed anyone before, but I’ll gladly take the credit.”

  Starbride hit her with a pillow. “You know what I mean.”

  “Does this mean no more silk scarves?”

  Starbride snorted a laugh. “Whatever pleases you, pleases me.”

  Katya picked up the blurry scarf. “I think I can tie this loosely enough to just impair my vision. You know, if you want to keep the footing level.”

  Starbride laughed and hit her with the pillow again.

  “Well, if a few hours of love can heal you partway, think what an entire day could do.”

  Starbride took the scarf from her and pulled it through her hands. “You might be right, but I’ll tie this again. I like what you can do when you have to rely solely on your hands.”

  Karis Walsh, a Pacific Northwest native, is the author of the Bold Strokes Books novels Harmony, Worth the Risk, and Sea Glass Inn, as well as multiple short stories. Visit her at www.kariswalsh.com.

  This story features characters from Sea Glass Inn.

  Carousel

  Karis Walsh

  “Mel, wake up.” Pam shook Mel’s bare shoulder. Nervous as she was about the day ahead, her body still responded to the softness of Mel’s skin and the familiarity of her shape and texture. She and Mel had become friends, and then lovers. Now, nine months after Pam had moved into Mel’s inn and into Mel’s life, they were partners in more ways than Pam had imagined possible. She kissed Mel’s neck. “Honey, wake up!”

  “No.” Mel rolled onto her stomach and pulled a pillow over her head. “I’m staying in bed,” she said, her voice muffled by the down pillow. “If I have to do another load of laundry, I’m going to shoot someone.”

  Pam laughed and wrapped her arms around Mel’s waist, pulling her out from under the pillow and flush with her own naked body. Pam stroked from Mel’s ribs down to her thigh. No one else would have been able to make her relax enough to smile, let alone laugh today, but Mel always managed to make her feel better. Hopeful. Optimistic. She needed all of Mel’s enthusiasm and support today.

  “No laundry,” she promised. The summer had been a whirling mass of color for them, with the guests filling the Sea Glass Inn and new paintings coming to life in Pam’s studio. The first week of September signaled a slight easing of their workload. Busy weekends and quiet weekdays. The annual hush of the off-season. More time for the two of them to be alone and celebrating their love. But not today. “They’ll be here in a couple hours.”

  Mel reached down and laced her fingers through Pam’s. “Will you be okay?” she asked, her voice alert and wide-awake now.

  “I don’t know.” Pam sighed. The small movement pressed her breasts against Mel’s back and she saw wisps of Mel’s hair stir when she exhaled. Every tiny movement, every sma
ll touch made her want Mel. Want to lock the door and make love to her all day, forgetting the rest of the world while she lost her mind and her heart over and over in Mel’s arms.

  Mel moved away and got out of bed. She picked up the two robes that had been tossed on the floor sometime during the night and threw one to Pam. “I’ll shower and make us breakfast.”

  She went quickly into the master bathroom and shut the door, but not before Pam had a chance to see the worried expression on Mel’s face. She had been hesitant when Pam had first brought up the idea of asking Diane and Kevin to visit the inn. Pam knew it wasn’t because Mel was jealous or because she wasn’t wholeheartedly behind a reunion for Pam and Kevin. But Mel, like Pam, wasn’t able to forget that the last time Diane had ripped Kevin out of her life, Pam had been unable to paint for eight years.

  Pam slipped her arms into the sleeves of her yellow robe. She had to take a chance, to gamble that she’d be strong enough to keep her creative spirit intact no matter what happened this weekend. When Diane had left with three year-old Kevin, Pam had been left alone. Now she had Mel, and she’d never be alone again.

  Pam showered after Mel finished, and by the time she came upstairs, Mel and her son Danny were sitting at the table eating huckleberry pancakes and bacon. Pam’s dog Piper was sitting at Danny’s feet, her head on his knee as she watched every bite he took.

  “This is why she follows you around all the time,” Pam said when she saw Danny break off a small piece of bacon and feed it to the spaniel. She poured a cup of coffee and brought it to the table, certain she wouldn’t be able to eat any breakfast today.

  “Piper’s going to be lost when you leave for school,” Mel said to Danny.

  Pam put her hand on Mel’s knee under the table and gave it a squeeze. Danny had spent the summer with them, but he’d be leaving for college soon. He’d only be going to Eugene—close enough for regular visits—but it wouldn’t be the same as having him here full-time. Pam knew the transition would be difficult for Mel, but she hadn’t anticipated how deeply it would affect her as well. She’d never had children of her own, but she had grown to love Danny like a son, just as she had loved Kevin. If things didn’t go well today, she might be losing both of them in a short week.

  Pam set her coffee mug on the table, unable to swallow even that. She should have left well enough alone. What she had was more than well enough. She had a good friend in Danny, and even though he was moving away she’d be part of his life forever. She was painting again and loving it with all the fervor she had felt before Diane and Kevin left her. Most important, she had Mel. She shouldn’t have dragged the past into their wonderful present and their promising future.

  “I need to go for a walk.” Pam kissed the top of Mel’s head and whistled for Piper. Although the dog usually spent every moment of the day with Danny when he was at the inn, she jumped up and trotted to Pam’s side without hesitation, as if she, too, understood the turmoil in Pam’s heart. Pam glanced behind as she left the kitchen and saw Mel and Danny watching her with expressions full of concern and love. She smiled back to show she’d be all right, hoping it was true.

  *

  Pam kept herself busy in her studio, rearranging easels and cleaning brushes. Doing mindless work, but not painting. She wouldn’t know what to paint while her emotions were raging and chaotic, and she needed to experience the reality of this day before she could capture it on canvas.

  She stood in front of her current work, its deep reds and blues glowing like embers as the mid-morning sunlight lit up the studio. Sunsets on the beach were such a clichéd subject, but she hadn’t been able to resist. She and Mel had been walking alone last week, holding hands and talking about inconsequential matters when they suddenly stopped as one and watched the sun set. No words, no oohs and aahs. Just a silent communion with their home and each other. She’d never felt such a profound peace and connection, and she had sketched the picture as soon as they got home. The painting would sell easily if she put it in her gallery, but she wasn’t about to let it go. It would be perfect in the bedroom she and Mel shared.

  She felt a brief rush of relief. The sunset painting was almost finished, just in case Diane and Kevin devoured her desire to paint yet again. She hurried to block the negative thoughts from her mind. She was stronger now. She could take whatever trauma the day brought.

  Mel tapped on the studio door. “They’re here.”

  Pam nodded and walked toward her. Mel met her halfway across the room, hugged her tightly, and with her hands on Pam’s cheeks, gave her a slow, melting kiss.

  “Don’t forget you have me and Danny,” Mel said. “You have family. We hope Kevin will be like family, too, but even if he isn’t, you’re not alone.”

  Pam leaned her forehead against Mel’s for a moment. Mel’s kiss and words calmed her more than anything else could. She suddenly felt ready.

  She held Mel’s hand as they walked across the yard, but she went inside alone. She walked down the hall and paused in the living room doorway for a moment. Diane and a tall boy—nothing like the toddler she had known—stood with their backs to Pam, looking at the painting of a breaching whale that Pam had painted for Mel. Pam studied the tableau in front of her as if she were about to paint it. The splintered multicolored sea glass mosaic contrasted well with the dark mahogany elegance of the living room. The splash of red from Diane’s graying auburn hair and Kevin’s coppery tones provided an interesting focal point. Pam shook her head. The perspective of an artist gave her distance from the subject, but she needed to bridge that distance. She cleared her throat and entered the room.

  Diane looked just as Pam remembered. A little more gray after nine years, with lines of tension around her mouth and eyes, but Pam had a feeling she herself wore the same apprehensive look. Kevin’s face had lost the chubbiness and frank openness of childhood, and he had turned into a gawky adolescent. She had expected him to have grown, of course, but she had thought she would recognize him as the boy she had known. Instead, he seemed curiously unfamiliar.

  “Hi, Pam.” Diane walked over and gave Pam a stiff hug. “You look great.”

  “So do you,” Pam said. The impersonal and shallow tone of the conversation mirrored her lack of feelings. She had expected anger or recrimination when she saw Diane. Tenderness and affection when she saw Kevin. Instead, she felt empty.

  “Kevin, come say hello to Pam,” Diane said, beckoning him forward. She turned back to Pam. “I’ve been telling him all about you and about what an amazing artist you are. This whale is one of yours, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” Diane shouldn’t have needed to tell Kevin about her. Pam should have been part of his life so he’d have simply known her. “Hey, Kevin,” Pam said when he came over. She offered her hand and he shook it with the awkward grip of a preteen unaccustomed to such formality. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  Pam winced at the words. She hadn’t just lost the past nine years with him. She’d lost the chance to be the mother to him she had once hoped to be.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” She gestured at the arrangement of sofas in the center of the room, trying to soften her tone so she didn’t sound as stiff as if she were conducting a business interview. “So we can have a chance to catch up.”

  Pam spent the next half hour listening to Diane talk about her job teaching art at the university where she and Pam had met. Following Diane’s prodding and Pam’s questions, Kevin told her about school and his karate dojo and his neighborhood friends. Pam nodded and made the appropriate comments, but she felt so tightly wound she wanted to scream. Kevin was a stranger to her and she to him. She should have expected it. He had been a baby when she first came into his life and a toddler when she was forced out of it. Of course he didn’t have any real connection to her.

  She heard the front door open and close, and then Mel came into the living room. “I don’t want to interrupt, but Danny brought home Fortuna’s P
izza. Are you hungry for lunch?”

  Pam jumped at the chance for a reprieve from their stilted conversation. “Thanks, Mel. Why don’t we eat in here?”

  Mel, Danny, and Piper came into the room with a flurry of energy and activity. Mel put napkins and cans of Coke on the table while she introduced Danny and Piper to Diane and Kevin. Piper swirled around Kevin, all tongue and waving tail, and he laughed and slid off the couch to play with her. Pam finally saw a glimpse of the child he had been.

  Mel watched Pam’s face transform as she looked at Kevin and Piper. She was glad to see some emotion in her instead of the flat, expressionless look she’d had when Mel had first walked into the room. She and Danny sat on either side of Pam, flanking and protecting her. She wanted to touch Pam, make sure she was okay, but she made herself settle for simply sitting close enough for their thighs to brush whenever one of them moved.

  They started to eat in silence, and the distance between the two sides of the table seemed too much to bridge. Danny seemed to understand, and he engaged Kevin in a conversation about baseball and summer leagues. The boys chatted throughout the meal while the three adults ate quietly.

  Mel forced herself to swallow bites of pizza, but she was too worried about Pam to relax. When they had first met, Pam had been broken, unable to paint. Mel had been there to watch as Pam had reconnected with her talent and as she had slowly and painfully picked up a brush again. The journey from Pam’s isolated and barren life to her new one of hope and creation had been a long and difficult one. Mel didn’t know if she could help Pam out of that dark place again, if she fell back into it.

  The brief moment of emotion Pam had shown when Kevin was laughing with Piper had disappeared. Mel had worried about this reunion, but she had been optimistic that Pam could come out of it with her need to express herself through art intact. Maybe Pam would paint joy, maybe sorrow, but she simply wanted Pam to paint. The emptiness Mel saw in Pam’s eyes scared her. Would Pam be able to create if she felt nothing?