The Feel of Forever

by Lyn Denison

  “Chrissie, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to meet him. It wouldn’t be fair of me.”

  Chrissie held up her hand. “Okay. Come clean, Fliss. What is it you’re not telling me?” She paused. “Is there someone else you haven’t told me, your very best friend, about?”

  “Yes. And no.”

  “And you’re in love with him? Fliss, who is it?”

  “Chrissie, it’s not that simple,” Fliss began.

  “I must know him then. Right?”

  “Chrissie—”

  “Oh, my God!” Chrissie put her hand over her mouth. “He’s already married, isn’t he? Who is he? I swear I won’t tell a soul, Fliss.”

  Before Fliss could refute Chrissie’s supposition, the phone rang, startling Fliss. She grabbed the receiver, almost grateful for the interruption. “Delia Devon Gallery, Fliss speaking.”

  “Hi!” The sound of the familiar voice wrapped itself around Fliss’s heart and she felt a flush color her cheeks. She turned slightly away, aware of Chrissie’s interested regard. “It’s me. Bailey.”

  “Oh. Hello. How are you?” Fliss asked breathily.

  “Fine. It was nice being with the family but it will also be nice to get back.”

  “Was everyone,” Fliss swallowed, “well?”

  “Yes. All wonderful. No rain either,” she added and laughed softly.

  Fliss smiled as the sound played over her and she felt some of her tension leave her. “That’s a plus.”

  “Yes.” There was a small pause. “I just wanted to check with you about tomorrow. For lunch.”

  Fliss had been wavering all weekend about that—one minute she wanted to go, the next she told herself it would be a huge mistake. She had to remember what Bailey had done and ensure she never had the chance to do it again.

  The silence stretched.

  “Fliss?”

  “Ah. What time?” she asked in a rush. “Say eleven thirty? I’ll come by then.”

  “All right.” Fliss’s fingers were clutching the receiver and she made herself relax them. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes. Bye. Oh, and Fliss, I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Yes. Thanks. Bye.” Fliss replaced the receiver and, taking a deep breath, she turned back to her friend.

  “That was him, wasn’t it?” Chrissie asked with a smile.

  “Her.” Fliss corrected, her voice almost steady.

  “Her? Her who? What do you mean?”

  “Chrissie, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I didn’t know how.” Fliss made a negating movement with her head. “I didn’t know what to say or how you’d feel about it if I did tell you.”

  “Tell me what.”

  “I didn’t want to meet Paul’s cousin or any other guy for that matter.” She swallowed. “I prefer women.”

  “You prefer women,” Chrissie repeated and then her eyes widened. “You’re a”—she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper—“lesbian?”

  “I guess I am.”

  Chrissie continued to gaze at her for long moments. “But how—? When—?” She drew a deep breath. “How long have you been one? I mean, when did you find out?”

  “I think I’ve always known on some level.”

  “But, Fliss,” Chrissie appealed. “You went out with guys when I was dating Paul.”

  “I know. I suppose I felt I had to.”

  Chrissie paced up and down in front of the counter, her fingers worrying a strand of her hair. “I know we never discussed the specifics of, well, sex, back then but I thought you—Didn’t you and that guy from the mainland, Greg something or other—”

  “Wallington.”

  “That’s him. Didn’t you sleep with him?”

  Fliss shook her head. “Not exactly. We fumbled around a bit.”

  “The lying hound. He told Paul you did.”

  Fliss raised her eyebrows. “Well, we didn’t.”

  “Didn’t you like it? Sex, I mean.”

  “Not so you’d notice. Not with him anyway,” Fliss added dryly.

  “But you did with a girl?”

  “I just didn’t—It didn’t feel right. With a guy, I mean. I felt like I was just going through the motions, playing a part. But it was so different with a woman.”

  “Who was it? The woman you slept with?”

  “Chrissie!”

  “Okay. You’ve never told anyone.” Her eyes widened again. “Your family doesn’t know?”

  “Petra does.”

  “You told Petra but you didn’t tell me. I’m supposed to be your best friend. Why didn’t you tell me before?” Chrissie looked wounded.

  “I’ve only just told Petra. And I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but,” Fliss shrugged, “as I said before, I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

  Chrissie considered that for a moment. “You’re right. We haven’t even talked about that kind of thing, have we? I’m sorry, Fliss. I should have known. If I hadn’t been so self-involved I would have realized something was worrying you too.”

  “How could you have known, Chrissie? In the early days I didn’t even know myself for sure.” Fliss looked at her friend. “So we’re discussing it now,” she said. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Chrissie said. “I don’t think I’ve thought about, well, homosexuality.”

  “Chrissie, I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship—”

  Chrissie stopped pacing and turned to face Fliss. “You won’t. How could you think that? For heaven’s sake, Fliss, you never could. I’m closer to you than I am to my two sisters and I love you.” She pulled a face. “Not like that but like a sister. Oh God!” She groaned. “Don’t lesbians call each other sisters?” She groaned again. “I’m making a complete hash of this, aren’t I?”

  Fliss laughed with relief. “No, you’re not. You’re just being you. And I love you, too, Sis. Just tell me it won’t change anything between us.”

  “It won’t. I promise.” Chrissie walked around the counter and gave Fliss a tight hug. She drew back and blushed. “Just give me time to get used to it and I’ll also promise not to go funny when we hug each other.”

  Fliss laughed. “I know I wouldn’t compare with Paul.”

  Chrissie sobered. “I do love you, Fliss. All my life you’ve been my rock. If being a lesbian is who you are then what right have I to not accept that. I wouldn’t be any kind of friend, now would I?”

  Fliss hugged her again and they both shed a few tears.

  Chrissie looked at the time. “I have to go. You know, you really have made it difficult, Fliss. Now I’ll have to find someone else to introduce Paul’s cousin to.”

  “What about one of the Connor girls?”

  “Mmm. At least he’d have six to choose from.”

  “Five,” Fliss reminded her. “Jenny got married a few months ago. Oh, make that four.” Fliss recalled Marcus’s earlier confidences. “I think Jodie could be spoken for as well.”

  “Then I’d better get on to it. The Connor girls are going fast.” She giggled. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Two of them are a little young but they’re all nice girls. See you.”

  Fliss shook her head as Chrissie opened the door. She paused and turned back to Fliss. “So the phone call. Was it her? I mean, is there someone special?”

  Fliss sobered. “There was. But I’m not quite ready to go into specifics just yet. Okay?”

  “Sure,” agreed Chrissie genuinely enough, although Fliss knew she’d never leave it alone. “We’ll take small steps, Fliss. And I think I need to think about all this too. So later, can I ask questions?”

  Fliss rolled her eyes. “Of course. Just be gentle with me. Okay?”

  Chrissie laughed. “It’s a deal.”

  “Thanks, Chrissie. For, you know, for everything.” Chrissie gave a wave and was gone.

  Before Fliss could begin to think about the conversation she’d just had with Chrissie, the studio door opened behind her and Marcus s
trolled in. He gave an exaggerated sniff. “Is that Chrissie’s coffee I smell?”

  “She left you one.” Fliss handed it to him. “It’s probably still hot.”

  He took a sip and sighed, then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Fliss. “What’s up? You look like you’ve lost ten cents and found a dollar.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “All right. If you won’t tell me I’ll respect your privacy and I won’t probe.” He looked at her. “Not even if you beg me to let you tell me.”

  A tour bus pulled up outside and Fliss laughed out loud. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you Marcus,” she said as a group poured into the gallery. She’d tell Marcus soon, too, and she wondered if it would be easier telling him than it had been telling Chrissie. Well, she decided wryly, now she’d at least had a little practise.

  That night Petra was at home and, to some extent, her lively chatter kept Fliss’s mind off her lunch with Bailey the next day. Most of the time. She forced herself to concentrate on her sister’s conversation. Petra told Fliss about her art class, the number of tourists getting off the ferry and how Liam would be finished with his exams the next day and would be doing a couple of trips on their father’s trawler so his deckhand could have a short holiday.

  “And I saw Paul, too,” Petra added as they did the dishes.

  “Chrissie’s Paul?”

  Petra nodded. “He was with his brother delivering stuff to go on the ferry.”

  “How did he seem?”

  “He looked okay.” Petra shrugged. “Same as usual. We just said hi. Why?”

  “No reason. I just haven’t seen him for a while. I think Chrissie mentioned he was working on the mainland at the moment.”

  Petra gave her a level look but let it go. “Has Annabel mentioned she’s planning a dinner party for Dad’s birthday?”

  Fliss nodded. “She rang me yesterday. That’s nice of her, although Dad’s not keen on birthday parties, especially his own.”

  “She warned him and he’s reluctantly agreed.” Petra laughed. “That’s what love will do to you.”

  Fliss lay in bed thinking about that later. Love. It had taken her from one extreme to the other. Total ecstasy and abject despair.

  There were times she wished she’d never met Bailey Macrae. But even while she was telling herself that, she knew it was untrue. Her life without the experience of loving Bailey, well, it would have been the worse for it.

  There’d been no happy ending for her. She’d learned to accept that. But it hadn’t prevented her from yearning for what might have been. And tomorrow she’d agreed to see Bailey again. The thought filled her with longing and elation and she wondered at the madness of that decision.

  By eleven o’clock the next morning Fliss was so nervous she had to pace up and down the hallway to calm herself as she waited for Bailey. She’d changed clothes twice, telling herself she’d done so because she was unsure of the weather. It was warm at the moment but if it rained it would turn cool.

  Eventually she settled on a pair of lightweight stonewashed blue pants and a plain black T-shirt with a V neckline. She added her demin jacket to her bag in case the weather did change. She had no idea where they were going but her outfit would be suitable for any of the eating places on the island.

  What if Bailey wanted to go to Chrissie’s Café? After her conversation with Chrissie the afternoon before, she’d have to find some way of explaining to Bailey that that may not be the best choice. If Fliss turned up with a woman, any woman, Chrissie would be watching her like the proverbial hawk.

  Fliss began to pace again. She felt like a teenager on a first date. Or like she used to feel when she was waiting for Bailey eight years ago. Her stomach churned. This was absolute madness. She shouldn’t be spending time alone with Bailey. Not without asking her what her intentions were.

  Intentions? Fliss bit back a hysterical laugh. What was she? A Victorian maiden? This had to stop and she did need to ask Bailey some questions. She should have asked her right at the beginning why she’d really come back.

  Fliss was so involved in trying to decide how she’d pose the questions she wanted to ask Bailey she didn’t hear her car. When the doorbell rang she jumped in fright. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly over to answer the door.

  “Hello,” she said, trying not to let Bailey see just how much being close to her was affecting her.

  “Hello yourself,” Bailey said with a smile that made Fliss’s knees go weak. “Ready to go?”

  Fliss paused and she saw a flicker of something pass over

  Bailey’s face. “I’ll just get my bag.”

  Bailey was waiting by the car when Fliss locked the house and joined her. She wore blue jeans and a pink T-shirt with long sleeves she’d pushed up her forearms. With a flourish Bailey opened the passenger side door and gently closed it when Fliss was seated.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as Bailey put on her seatbelt. “I thought a picnic.”

  Fliss stiffened. Surely Bailey wouldn’t suggest they revisit the secret beach?

  “The weather seems to be holding so I thought maybe we could go to that park down on the southern end of the island. Stokes Park?”

  Fliss nodded.

  “There’ll probably be some tourists there so it will be quite public,” she added dryly as she started the car.

  “You think that’s what I want,” Fliss heard herself say.

  Bailey laughed softly as she turned onto the road and accelerated away. “I’m pretty sure. I don’t mind. I’m just glad you didn’t change your mind about coming with me.”

  “You thought I would?”

  “Oh, yes. I thought you were more than happy to have Mayla join us for dinner the other night.”

  “Didn’t you enjoy the evening?”

  “Very much so. But I still wasn’t convinced you wanted to spend time alone with me.”

  As a car tried to overtake them and Bailey pulled to the side to let it go past, Fliss desperately tried to think of something to say. Why not try the truth, suggested her inner voice. Tell her you don’t trust her. Or yourself.

  “I saw Marcus and a young woman waiting for the water taxi to the mainland when I arrived back this morning,” Bailey remarked casually, and for Fliss the moment passed.

  “Ah. He must have plucked up the courage to ask Jodie out. Looks like a budding romance.”

  “He’s a very attractive guy,” Bailey continued lightly. “The other day when he was showing me his studio he”—she paused— “seemed to imply you and he were fairly close.”

  What had Marcus been up to? Fliss wondered, then decided it was all too difficult “You must have been mistaken. No, Marcus is just a good friend.”

  Bailey went to add something but she changed the subject then and for the rest of the short drive they discussed the changes Bailey saw in the island. When they arrived at the picnic spot there was one car in the car park and a family was set up at one of the covered picnic tables.

  “Ah, our chaperones,” Bailey said softly. “You pick the table, Fliss, and I’ll bring our lunch.”

  Fliss followed her to the back of the car and watched as she opened the boot. “Can I help?”

  “Wine cooler? Thermos flask? I’ll manage the rest.”

  Fliss chose a covered picnic shelter that overlooked the beach. The grassy dunes, white sand and restless blue water had Fliss sighing with pleasure as she stood gazing at the panorama. The sea breeze was relatively light and, although there were a few clouds, the sky was blue and the sun shone. And she was with Bailey.

  Eight years ago that would have been all she’d needed. Today, well, she’d grown up, grown wary and the heart she’d given so eagerly to this beautiful woman was encased in such a protective barrier Fliss despaired it would ever be free again.

  “I thought it was going to rain again so I made something hot,” Bailey said as she joined Fliss and set a thermal container on the table. “Chicken w
ith ginger and lime. How does that sound?”

  “Delicious.” Fliss busied herself taking the wine and two glasses out of the cooler, careful not to meet Bailey’s eyes.

  Bailey slipped into the seat opposite Fliss and picked up the glass Fliss had set before her. “Mmm. I love this place. The colors.” She drew a breath. “The smells. The sounds of the ocean.”

  “We’ve had whales in really close to land this year.” Fliss took a sip of her wine and savored it. “This is very nice wine.” She checked the label. “New Zealand. I’ve never tried it before.”

  “I only recently came across it. I liked it so much I went in search of it.”

  Well, thought Fliss, that’s the wine discussed. Now what? The weather? Anything except what Fliss knew they should be talking about. About why Bailey left. And why she was back.

  Bailey made small talk as she set out their lunch, individual bowls of steaming chicken and vegetables with wild rice, the aroma of ginger and lime making Fliss realize she was hungry. She’d been too agitated to eat more than a few mouthfuls of breakfast.

  “It smells wonderful,” she said knowing Bailey had gone to a lot of trouble.

  And it was delicious. They ate in silence, watching the two children with the other family playing on the playground swings.

  “Life was so simple when we were that age, wasn’t it?” Bailey said softly, indicating the children. “It was all about just swinging high enough to touch the sky. In the adult world touching the sky is so much harder, fraught with choices.”

  The little girl jumped off the swing and fell over. She wailed and her father leaned down and lifted her up, cuddling and consoling her.

  Bailey gave a wry smile. “Well, maybe life was fraught back then too.”

  Fliss grinned. “What’s that saying about not sharing the stage with animals or children.”

  “I take your point.” Bailey laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Davie loved the swings,” she said softly.

  Fliss was horrified. Had her comment reminded Bailey of her son? “I’m sorry, Bailey. I didn’t mean to—”