by Lyn Denison
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Fliss said. “They love you for yourself. Joe and Megan are just bonuses. And speaking of Megan, how’s she managing with the new babies?”
“She’s fantastic.” Mayla didn’t try to disguise the pride in her voice. “I did tell her that making me a grandmother with one baby was sufficient. Having triplets was something of an overkill.”
Fliss squeezed her arm. “You’re a fraud, Mayla Dunne. You adore those kids.”
“I know. But don’t tell anyone. I have to protect my tough butch image.”
“So what am I offered to keep my mouth shut?” Bailey stepped from behind the display case.
Mayla raised surprised eyebrows, then she recognized Bailey and enveloped her in a bear hug.
“Bailey Macrae.” She leaned back and ran a frank gaze over the other woman. “You look stunning as usual.”
“What a smoothie.” Bailey grinned. “Thanks for the compliment though. I’ve been looking at your beautiful pieces over here. I especially like this one. It’s one of your best.”
They stepped over to the sculpture Bailey indicated and Mayla gave Fliss a quick, questioning look. Her eyes went from Bailey back to Fliss and Fliss gave a faint shrug. Then Bailey commented on Mayla’s work and Mayla gave the other woman her attention.
Fliss watched them surreptitiously as she sipped her coffee. Her emotions churned in a turmoil as Bailey and Mayla moved around the gallery. She knew Bailey had attended Mayla’s show in Sydney. When she returned to the island Mayla had briefly mentioned she’d met Bailey at the show. And Bailey herself had said she had some of Mayla’s work.
But Mayla hadn’t told Fliss just how well they obviously knew each other. Not that Mayla had to, it was her business, but, as Bailey was so well-known, Fliss would have thought Mayla would have told her they’d become friends.
Bailey and Mayla stood shoulder to shoulder while Mayla explained some aspect of the piece to Bailey. Watching them, Fliss could glean nothing from their body language. They laughed and chatted easily together, as friends would. Occasionally one would touch the other on the arm. But, apart from that, there was no way of knowing if they’d been lovers. Had they? Fliss admonished herself. She had no right to even think such a question. It was none of her business what Mayla and Bailey did.
But Fliss did remember Mayla telling her she didn’t get involved with married women. Too high maintenance, Mayla had said. And Bailey was married. She’d turned her back on women. And yet, if Bailey was attracted to Mayla who could blame her? Mayla exuded a raw sensuality that drew both women and men. And Bailey . . . Fliss let her gaze linger on Bailey as she moved her hands expressively as she spoke. How could Mayla not be attracted to Bailey?
With a sinking heart Fliss turned away. Mayla was her closest friend apart from Chrissie. But Mayla knew Fliss’s innermost secret.
A couple of years after Fliss’s mother died, Fliss had been walking along the beach at the other end of the island. She’d needed to get away for an hour or so, recoup her flagging spirits so she could return and be strong, at least outwardly, for her family. Every so often it all came tumbling down on her, the loss of her mother, her concern for her grieving father, her younger brother and sister, her mother’s gallery.
On that particular day she’d been particularly down. The evening before she’d turned on the television, not really registering what show was on until the screen was filled by a beautiful, so very familiar face. Fliss had sat there drinking in each feature. When she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks she’d switched the TV off and dragged herself upstairs to bed. The oblivion of sleep had been a long time coming so she’d woken jaded and off-color. It was her day off so she didn’t have the distraction of work. The solitude of the beach, the ebb and flow of the tide had seemed like a lifesaver.
With her mind a little clearer Fliss decided she should think about heading for home. She trudged up a small sand dune and as she reached the top she almost stumbled upon a sunbathing Mayla.
Fliss knew who she was. Mayla Dunne was a sculptor and a friend of Fliss’s mother. She’d lived on the island on and off during Fliss’s childhood years but she’d left the island after her divorce. She’d also come back to see Fliss’s mother before she had died and, recently she returned for good, bought a small cottage and had a studio built onto the back of it.
Mayla had removed the top of her swimsuit and was stretched out on a towel, her near-naked body glistening in the sunshine. Fliss was paralyzed. She knew she should just quietly turn and walk away before Mayla realized she was there but she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze from Mayla’s beautiful body. For some reason it made her think about Bailey and herself, that first night on the rocky floor of the cave, bodies entwined for warmth, wrapped in a blanket, hugging their secret to themselves. The cloud of depression settled on her again.
“So, are you going to stand there and stare forever?” Mayla’s voice startled her. “Or have you been turned into a pillar of salt like Lot’s inquisitive wife?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fliss apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to stare. I mean, I was walking and I thought I had the beach to myself.”
“That makes two of us.” Mayla sat up and casually slipped on her bra top.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was going to head home across country. Along the walking track.”
Mayla nodded and picked up her wristwatch from the towel beside her, glancing at the time. “I’ve reached my toasting limit anyway. Any longer and I’ll start to burn.” She slipped a thin chambray shirt on and adjusted her sunglasses. She patted the sand beside her. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute, Fliss.”
“Oh, I should be getting home,” Fliss began, and then found herself sinking down onto the warm sand beside the other woman. She drew up her legs, rested her arms on her knees.
“How are things going?” Mayla asked. “By the way, I like what you’re doing with the gallery.”
“Thank you.” And suddenly she was telling Mayla all about her ideas for the gallery, about all the talented craftspeople on the island and how much she enjoyed working with them all. Mayla had already made a name for herself as a sculptor and Fliss paused, gathering her courage. “Because I’m featuring local artists I was going to ask you if you’d consider putting some of your work into the gallery too.”
“It would be an honor,” Mayla said sincerely.
Fliss beamed at her, held out her hand and they shook on it. “This is just great. My mother used to say you were the most talented student in the art college.”
“Your mother was no slouch. It’s been a great loss to the art world.” She sighed. “You know, your mother would be very proud of you, Fliss Devon.”
Fliss looked across at Mayla, at the compassion in her eyes, and the tears she hadn’t allowed to fall for so long welled up and over- flowed to pour down her cheeks. Then Mayla wrapped her arms around Fliss and she found herself cushioned on Mayla’s wonderful breasts.
“Sssh.” Mayla continued to murmur soothingly and one hand gently rubbed Fliss’s back. “I didn’t mean to upset you, love. Your mother was a good friend of mine and I thought it might help to talk about her. If you want to talk.”
Fliss sat up and Mayla pulled a tissue out of her bag and passed it to Fliss. She wiped her face. “Thank you. Mum said you met each other at art college.”
Mayla nodded. “We did. We became friends and I often came over to the island with her on weekends.” Mayla grimaced. “One weekend I met Angus. We were married three months later and I had Joe six months after that.”
Fliss smiled at the other woman’s candour and Mayla shook her head.
“Ah, the follies of youth. You know, your mother blamed herself for Angus and me. Can you believe that?” She nodded when Fliss looked surprised. “As if Angus and I could blame anyone but ourselves. We were a mistake waiting to happen from the moment we met.” She laughed her deep throaty laugh again. “Although in my defense I should
say Angus was a handsome devil back then.”
Fliss could imagine Mayla had been very attractive herself. She still was.
“When things weren’t working out your mother suggested I leave him but I wanted to try to make it work,” Mayla continued. “Angus and I moved down south for a while but he had trouble getting and keeping jobs. Here at least he could work on his father’s trawler, so we came back and stayed until Angus got itchy feet and off we’d go again. The first time we came back your mother had just had you and she was ecstatic.” Mayla’s expression softened. “You’d have thought you were the only baby in the world. She was besotted by you.”
Fliss swallow. “I miss her so much. All the time. I worry that I’m doing the right thing with the gallery. I worry about Petra. She’s so young and I don’t know that I can take our mother’s place with her. Then there’s my brother, Brent. He desperately wants to join the Navy and he’s torn between that and staying here to help Dad on the boat. And, of course, there’s Dad himself. He’s, well—It’s as though the essential part of him died with Mum. I worry about him.”
“With all that worry on your shoulders it’s a wonder you can carry it around,” Mayla said with a smile. “It sounds like you’re a worrywart. Why don’t we address each issue? Firstly, the gallery. It’ll be a huge success. It has everything going for it. Just give it time. As to Petra”—she marked off the points on her fingers— “she’s a good kid. Older than her years. She knows where she’s going and she’ll work her way there. Your father won’t let Brent miss his opportunity to join the Navy when his results come through. He’ll make it right for your brother.
“And your father,” she continued. “He’s lost the love of his life. He needs to do his grieving. That takes time. Give him that, love.” Mayla brushed a wind-blown strand of Fliss’s hair back behind her ear. “And stop with the worrying.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Fliss said.
“No, it’s not simple. I’ll grant you that.” Mayla sighed. “I know it sounds trite to say you have to take it a day at a time but it’s true. And you’re doing so well. As I said, your mother would be proud of you.”
Fliss looked down at the tissue she was twisting in her hands. “I think maybe she wouldn’t,” she said softly.
“For heaven’s sake, why wouldn’t she be proud of you, Fliss?” Mayla was astounded.
“I’m not the person she thought I was. She would have been so disappointed in me.”
“Fliss, that’s ridiculous,” Mayla stated. “You’re keeping your family together. No one could ask more of you.”
“I’m not normal.”
“What’s normal?” Mayla waved her hand dismissively. “If you asked a hundred people they’d give you a hundred different answers.”
“Not about—” Fliss shook her head and Mayla took her hand in hers and held it on her lap.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about and then I’ll tell you how mistaken you are.”
Fliss stayed silent and Mayla squeezed her hand.
“That was a joke. It’s polite to laugh.”
Fliss smiled reluctantly.
“So?” Mayla probed.
“You won’t like me anymore.”
“Let’s take that chance.”
“I’m a—I don’t want to get married.”
“I have no problem with that. I should have not wanted to get married myself.”
“I mean, I do want to get married. I just, well, don’t want to marry a man,” she finished quickly.
“Ah,” Mayla said softly.
And then the whole story came pouring out. Without mentioning Bailey’s name she told Mayla about her attraction to a woman. Her confusion. The wonder of discovering her feelings were reciprocated. Fliss’s hopes and dreams for their future. And her utter devastation when her dreams were shattered.
Mayla listened and consoled. “So the woman you’re in love with, she doesn’t live on the island?”
Fliss shook her head and slid an assessing glance at the other woman. Mayla showed no sign of revulsion at her revelations. She made herself take a steadying breath. She’d never told anyone about this. Only Bailey knew.
Mayla met and held Fliss’s gaze. “So you’re a lesbian,” she said levelly and Fliss felt herself flush at the word.
She nodded and Mayla gave a soft laugh.
“Is that all?” she teased.
“All? You wouldn’t care if your son or daughter was gay?”
“No. I’m only concerned that they’re happy.”
“I’m pretty sure Joe’s not gay,” Fliss said dryly, knowing Mayla’s son had a reputation as a ladies’ man. “And Megan’s married, anyway.”
“So was I.”
“I know. But—” Fliss stopped and her eyes widened at the implication of Mayla’s comment. Did she mean—?
“Your mother never told you I was a lesbian, did she?”
Fliss shook her head. “You’re really a lesbian?”
“Really.” Mayla laughed. “Well, not so you’d notice at the moment, but yes, I am. So you see you’re not the only lesbian in the world. Or even on the island.”
Fliss didn’t know what to say. She’d often wondered why a woman as attractive as Mayla didn’t seem to have a partner. She was so vitally alive and so sensual. “Do people know?”
Mayla shrugged. “I don’t go around telling anyone who’ll listen but I don’t deny it either.”
Fliss couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Let’s test it out,” Mayla said at last. She looked up at the clear blue sky and raised her voice. “Fliss Devon and Mayla Dunne are lesbians.” She waited a moment and shrugged. “Look around you, Fliss. The sand hasn’t shifted. The ocean’s still rolling in. And the sky hasn’t fallen in.”
Fliss smiled faintly. “But did Mum know about you?”
“Yes.” Mayla looked away and for a split second Fliss was sure Mayla was a little disconcerted, but she was smiling when she glanced back at Fliss. “She said she couldn’t understand it but she accepted it.” She sighed. “But Fliss, you can’t live your life being the person you think other people want you to be. Life’s far too short for that.”
“I don’t know that I have the courage to be different,” Fliss said, knowing that she’d have done anything, gone anywhere with Bailey Macrae.
“And I think you’re underestimating yourself again, Fliss. This woman, she was pretty special?” Mayla asked.
Fliss sighed. “She was,” she said hollowly. “And she was your first?”
“Yes. I loved her so much.” Fliss shrugged and managed a wry smile. “But she chose not to be, well, a lesbian, and she chose her career and that was it,” she finished with an attempt at being matter-of-fact.
“I’m sorry, love. It must have been painful. And I can see it still is.” Mayla added as Fliss brushed away a tear that threatened to fall. “You’re on your own at the moment?”
Fliss nodded. “You don’t exactly trip over lesbians around here. I mean, even if I was interested I wouldn’t know, well, anything.”
“I think what you need is a night out with like-minded women.”
“You mean with—?”
“Lesbians,” Mayla finished for her. “A whole club of them. So how about you keep Monday night free. We’ll go over to the mainland, have dinner at the club, and I’ll introduce you to some great women.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mayla. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” Fliss bit her lip, tempted but unsure.
“Of course you’re ready,” Mayla insisted. “And you need a change of scene, get a break away from home and the gallery.”
“But what if they need me?”
“One night. We’ll be back on the last ferry. I’ll pick you up and drop you home. So Monday. Okay?”
Fliss nodded. “If Dad doesn’t mind me going.”
Mayla had opened up a new world for Fliss that Monday night. She’d met some wonderful women, made some great friends. A cou
ple of times Fliss had considered taking a relationship further. But there had always been memories of Bailey Macrae.
The familiar, husky sound of Bailey’s laugh snapped Fliss out of her reverie. The sound played over her, reminding her of what she’d lost and she knew she was a long way from being over Bailey Macrae, no matter what she tried to tell herself. Then she realized Bailey and Mayla were heading back towards her.
“Sorry for neglecting you, Fliss,” Mayla apologized. “I actually came in to see you too. But I was so surprised to see Bailey.” She touched Bailey lightly on the arm. “We haven’t caught up for months.”
Months? Fliss hid her surprise. They’d seen each other so recently? Mayla hadn’t mentioned it to Fliss. But why would she? Fliss asked herself again. Mayla knew how devastated Fliss had been eight years ago but Fliss had never actually revealed Bailey’s identity. But Bailey was so well-known. Wouldn’t meeting her have come up in Mayla’s conversation?
“I’ve got Bill and his ute organized to move that large piece from my studio in to the gallery on Monday morning if that’s all right with you,” Mayla continued.
“Of course. That’ll be fine.” Fliss checked her diary. “We don’t have any tours booked for Monday at all so that will work well.”
“Great. As you know Bill’s a bit difficult to tie down to a time.” Mayla laughed. “But I’ve promised him a carton of his favorite beer so I’m fairly sure he’ll keep the appointment. So”—Mayla rubbed her hands together—“what say we celebrate with dinner at the tavern tonight, Fliss? They’ve got a pretty reasonable menu down there at the moment, I hear.”
“Oh, well,” Fliss glanced across at Bailey. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Can’t, shman’t,” Mayla teased. “You have to eat.” She paused and nodded knowingly. “Ah! Unless you have a hot date. That’s the only excuse I’ll take.”
Bailey stepped forward. “I’m afraid I got in before you, Mayla. Fliss agreed to have dinner with me.”
“She did.” Mayla raised her eyebrows at Fliss and Fliss could feel herself flush.
“We just—Bailey kindly offered—” Fliss took a deep breath. “We’ve only just decided so why don’t you join us, Mayla?” she heard herself say. “I’m sure Bailey wouldn’t mind, would you?”
