by Radclyffe
Flann laughed. “Talk about them?”
Becky’s laughter pealed, and Flann flashed on Becky straddling her, her blond hair flying about her shoulders, her breasts rose-tipped and bouncing gently as she rocked on Flann’s hand. A nice image that did nothing for her.
“Well, you know…I miss…some things,” Becky said.
“Be surprised how much fun you could have giving lessons. You should try it,” Flann said lightly. “Call me if there’s any problems with my patient.”
“Of course,” Becky said, a distinct chill in her voice.
Smiling wryly, Flann hung up the phone. She didn’t have any strict rules against dating married women in general, but she preferred they not be actually living with their husbands when she did. Besides, Becky was way too close to home. She didn’t care to advertise her bedroom activities to the world. And all that aside, the idea of climbing into bed with her just didn’t appeal. She might think differently after a good night’s sleep, but she doubted it.
Halfway back to her apartment on the outskirts of town, Flann changed her mind and reversed course. No way could she sleep yet, and sitting around in her apartment was the last thing she wanted to do. Ten minutes later she turned down the drive to the homestead, but instead of pulling under the porte cochere where she usually parked, she followed a winding dirt road past acres of cornfield down to the main barn. The big doors were open and the clank of cows at the milking station rang like bells as she stepped from the Jeep. The Rivers family had leased their land for crops and dairy cows for as long as she could remember to a farming family who owned the adjoining land a mile or so downriver. Melanie Cochran, the oldest daughter, was supervising the morning’s milking. She waved to Flann. “Come to help out?”
Flann laughed. “Those electronic robot milkers are way too high-tech for me. The cows are safer with you.”
“Chicken.”
“How’s the summer going?”
“Great,” Melanie said with obvious pride. Her older brother had opted for a teaching job in the city, and Melanie appeared to be the heir apparent to follow in her father’s footsteps. “We got a good round of heifers this spring, rain’s been good, temperature’s been high.” She grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a good season if you don’t mind a tornado now and then.”
“Everything okay over at your place?”
“We lost half a field of soybeans, but we’ve got time to replant. All our stock are fine. We were lucky.”
“You know it. The whole village was pretty lucky.”
“I hear Harper’s new place got torn up a little bit.”
“The barn took a hit, but it’s repairable.”
Melanie adjusted one of the suction tubes on a cow’s udder and dusted off her hand. “I heard there’s going to be a barn raising. You gonna be there?”
“I didn’t get an invitation,” Flann said with a grin, “but I haven’t talked to Harper since yesterday. When?”
“This weekend.”
“Barring emergencies, I’ll be there.”
Melanie cocked a hip and sent Flann a slow grin. She was a good ten years younger than Flann, but more than a few above legal age. She was strong, sunburned, and pretty in a wholesome way. “Well then, I’ll see you. There’ll be dancing, I hear.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Flann walked toward the tack room, shaking her head. Must be the day for invitations. Nothing to complain about, but the usual thrill of the hunt eluded her. She pulled down one of the bikes that looked about Blake’s size from hooks along one wall. The tires were in good shape and she dug out a foot pump and filled them to make sure they held up before she gave it to him. She wheeled it back out of the barn and wrestled it into the back of her Jeep. As she made the turn into the drive, her mother came out onto the back porch, set her hands on her hips, and fixed Flann with a stare she could feel through the windshield. She pulled over, cut the engine, and climbed out. “Morning, Mama.”
“You were thinking to leave without stopping by, I take it?”
“Ah—”
“Come on in the kitchen. I imagine you haven’t had breakfast.”
“I could do with some food.”
Ida laughed. “When can’t you?”
Flann stepped into the kitchen and was immediately enfolded in the scent of warm bread, fresh ham, and sweet strawberries. The smell of home stirred an ache in her depths, and she settled at the table with a sigh.
Her mother set a cup of coffee in front of her. “Long night?”
Flann rubbed her face with both hands. “Long couple of nights. How are things with Dad?”
“He finally got a break last night and didn’t get a call out until after breakfast this morning. He’s fine.”
Flann nodded and swallowed some coffee. “Good.”
“What were you looking for down at the barn?”
“Oh, I was getting one of my old bikes out for Blake.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Well, he and Margie are planning on looking after the chicks over at Presley’s, so he needs some transportation since neither of them drives.”
“I imagine the two of them will be getting their licenses at about the same time.”
Flann winced. “Don’t remind me.”
Ida sat with her own coffee and studied Flann unhurriedly. “You and your sisters survived, they will too. We’ll all keep an eye on them.”
“I’m not worried about them—it’s the rest of the idiots out there.”
“We’ll see that they know what they’re about.”
“I know.”
“Blake seems like a nice boy.”
“He is.”
“He and Margie hit it off.”
Flann searched for any sign that her mother had concerns and didn’t find any. The idea that Blake wouldn’t immediately be accepted for the great kid he was bothered her and she could only imagine how Abby must feel. “Margie is teaching him the wonders of farming.”
Ida smiled. “Abby is quite remarkable too.”
Flann flushed and stared at her coffee. “Uh-huh.”
“I admire her, being a single mother. It doesn’t much matter if it’s one child or five, it’s always easier when there’s two people sharing the raising.”
“You managed.”
“That’s not fair, Flannery,” her mother said gently.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me deserving the apology.” Ida stroked her arm to signal she was forgiven. “And if anybody ought to be complaining, it would be me.”
“You’re right again, I’m just—I don’t know, probably just tired.” She didn’t know why the hell she was mad, or even who she was really mad at. “I should go.”
Ida took her hand. “No, you should stay and tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I don’t know,” Flann said, when she meant to say nothing. “I love Dad, you know that, right?”
“Course I do, and so does he.”
“Harper always wanted to be just like him.”
Her mother said nothing.
“And I was always afraid I was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I love what I do, just like he does. Maybe too much. Sometimes I thought he’d rather be taking care of other people than taking care of us.”
“It must’ve seemed that way when you were younger.”
“But I’m not young anymore, and I do know better.” Flann shook her head. “It’s hard to let go of feelings you’ve had for a long, long time.”
“That’s because you’re still angry at him about Kate. You think he should have known, and he should have fixed her.”
“No, of course I don’t. I know no one could have—”
“You know it now, but you didn’t know it then. And like you said, those feelings take a long time to change.”
“I don’t even know why I’m thinking about all of this right now.” She avoided serious relationships so she’d never have a chance to let
anyone down, so she’d never fail to take care of the people who needed her. The decision had never bothered her, until now.
Ida smiled. “Don’t you?”
Flann frowned. “I think you better let me in on it, if you do.”
“Oh no. There’re some things a mother ought to stay clear of.”
“I’m gonna remind you you said that someday.”
“I’ll remind you not to sass, Flannery.”
Flannery grinned. “I love you.”
Ida got up, kissed Flann’s cheek, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I love you too.”
Flann carried her dishes to the sink. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at the barn raising this weekend.”
“We haven’t had a good old-fashioned barn raising in a long time,” Ida said.
“Just another excuse for a party.”
“Mm-hmm. Everybody loves one.”
“I’ll see you.” Flann headed for the door. “Save me a dance.”
“I suspect you’ll have a full card. And Flannery,” Ida called after her.
Flann turned.
Her mother’s eyes twinkled and Flann couldn’t quite decipher her smile. “Remember, women enjoy being courted.”
Flann’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Just a little motherly advice.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Abby sat on the back steps with an honest-to-God newspaper spread open on her knees. Granted, it was the Argyle Post, a ten-page weekly filled with some of the most fascinating stories she’d ever read. The headliner described the daring rescue of an escaped parrot by the local sheriff’s deputy (with photo of officer and parrot). Another stated the fine received by a local resident whose backyard pig had apparently destroyed a neighbor’s vegetable garden. Another listed the names of five residents cited for speeding on the county road connecting the township to parts beyond. The rest of the paper was filled with births, deaths, and marriage announcements, and a surprisingly full calendar of upcoming events including the Fourth of July Fireworks on the Green celebration, a two-day local artists’ exhibition, a play put on by the theater group in a neighboring village, and the annual pig roast.
“Blake,” Abby called, “there’s going to be an art exhibit in a couple of weeks I think you might like—local artists.”
Blake came to the door, munching a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter. “Okay, sure.”
“Good.” She pulled out her phone and made note of the date so she could adjust the on-call schedule to be sure she was free. One of the great benefits of no longer being an underling was she could actually make a few plans that might come to fruition without needing to sell her soul to other residents to arrange coverage.
“What are you doing today?” Blake asked, in an odd reversal of their usual conversation.
Abby had the entire day free, another oddity. She actually had a day off. She had thought to go in to the hospital a little later in the day to take care of some paperwork, but now that she considered it, the idea seemed like a pathetic way to fill the unexpected hours. “I don’t know. Is there anything you want to do?” She glanced over her shoulder. Blake looked faintly chagrined. “What? Not interested in spending your free time with your mother?”
Blake grinned. “I kind of told Margie I’d meet her at Presley’s. We were going to look at the chicks. After that, you know, we were probably just gonna meet up with some of Margie’s gang and hang out.”
“I interpret that to mean you’re not interested in spending the day with your mother.”
“Well, I guess—”
Abby laughed. “It’s fine. You need a ride?”
“Yeah, about that. Maybe I could drive—with you in the car, you know.”
“Maybe we’ll be waiting until you get your permit.”
He made a face. “Margie says all the kids around here know how to drive a long time before they ever get their permits, and I’ve never even been behind the wheel.”
“I don’t think tractors quite count as knowing how to drive.”
“How about an ATV?”
“We don’t have one of those.”
“Margie does.”
Abby sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m being expertly maneuvered?”
He grinned again, that incredibly infectious grin that had always claimed her heart and, she suspected, would break a few in the future. She shook her head. “No deal.”
“Aw—”
“So,” Abby asked, conscious of not wanting to push her way into Blake’s personal space, “have you met these other kids yet?”
“No.”
His lack of embellishment told her he was nervous. She was too. Would this new crowd accept him, view him as just a new guy, or see him as someone who wouldn’t fit? “They’re Margie’s friends?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” What else could she say?
“Mom,” Blake blurted, “I want to have surgery.”
Abby’s stomach twisted. She’d been waiting, wondering when, if. God, he wasn’t even sixteen. Everything she’d been able to learn had said the most important criterion for moving ahead was the certainty of the teens themselves. Blake was sure, she believed with her heart and her mind. “What kind?”
“The top.” Blake met her gaze squarely. “Before school starts and I meet a lot of new people.”
“Okay, wait, let me catch up.” Abby stood and leaned against the porch rail, working through a million questions to find the right one. “How much is this about the way you feel physically versus wanting to be accepted in your new school?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m not sure, maybe. What do you think?”
He frowned. “Remember when I said I wanted to start the hormones, because I wanted to look and feel male?”
“Yes.”
“This is like that—I want my body to match the way I feel about myself, and I’ll feel better if I look like I feel.”
Abby blew out a breath. “It sounds circular, but then it is, isn’t it. Mind and body are fluid.”
Blake grinned, looking relieved and amused. “Mom, you’re thinking too hard.”
“I love you.”
“I know. So—can I talk to Flann?”
“Flann?” Abby’s mind blanked for a second. “You want Flann to do the surgery?”
“Margie said she’s the best.”
“Undoubtedly, but…” Abby pictured Flann during a trauma alert, saw her quick deft hands and certain actions. The surgery itself wasn’t all that dangerous or complicated, and Blake was lucky. He hadn’t had much breast development before the hormones suppressed it. Blake obviously trusted Flann, and so did she. “All right. We’ll start there. Information first, deal?”
“Deal.” Blake looked over his shoulder. The house was small enough to see from the back porch all the way through to the front if the doors were open, which they were to capitalize on any kind of breeze. “Hey! Flann’s here. She brought a bike!”
Blake disappeared and Abby panicked. Flann. She looked down at herself. Oh God. Cut-off sweatpants that seconded as pajama bottoms, a T-shirt that had to be older than Blake—faded and literally see-through in places—and of course, no underwear. She had at least brushed her hair and taken care of other necessary hygienics. Maybe she could just stay out of the way. But then if she hid, she wouldn’t see Flann, and she very much wanted to. If she was honest, she’d been wanting to see her since she’d sent her out of the bedroom.
She folded up the paper, tossed it onto one of the two rocking chairs she and Blake had found in a hardware store down the street, and hurried through the house. Flann and Blake hovered over a bicycle in the front yard. She walked to the edge of the porch and observed their animated expressions. Blake was transformed—his face alight with pleasure. Flann looked Abby’s way, and her smile was as potent as a harpoon striking her in the center of the chest, slowly drawing her toward Flann.
“Good morning,” Abby said, hoping her voice sounded n
onchalant despite the piercing pleasure filling up her chest.
“Thought I’d take a chance on finding someone home,” Flann said.
“Mom,” Blake said excitedly, “look at the great bike Flann brought me.”
“It’s super,” Abby said. The bike did indeed fit the description—a newish road bike built for speed. “Flann, that’s an awfully nice bike—I appreciate you lending it—”
“No problem. I’m not using it. Besides”—Flann grinned at Blake—“you gotta have wheels. These will do until you get your license.”
Abby resisted the urge to grind her teeth. She really didn’t need anyone else encouraging Blake in the pleasures of automotion. “Fortunately everything around here is in walking distance.”
“Mostly,” Flann said agreeably. She grinned at Abby. “But then again, a car isn’t just for transportation.”
She folded her arms and gave Flann a pointed frown. “It better be in this family.”
Flann laughed and Blake blushed, although he tried to pretend he hadn’t heard the exchange.
“Keep it as long as you need it,” Flann said. “Really, I don’t use it.”
“Maybe I could buy it,” Blake said.
“Why don’t we discuss a work trade? There’s going to be plenty to do out at Harper’s place.”
“Yeah, I could do that.” Blake looked back at Abby. “Can I go, Mom?”
“Sure. Be back by dinner or call me or—” But he was already on the bike and headed out to the road, waving one arm without looking back. Abby sighed. “I wish it was another year before he gets his license.”
Flann climbed the porch steps. “I know what you mean. I just had the same conversation with my mother about Margie.”
“At least your mother’s had some practice with it. I bet you and Harper were devils behind the wheel.”
Flann brushed a hank of hair out of her eyes, and Abby followed the motion of her hand before skimming her gaze down Flann’s body. Abby’s attention heated her skin, and the memory of Abby’s fingers on her neck when they’d kissed chased away the last of her fatigue. She was instantly very much awake. “Not Harper, she was never wild. She always followed the rules.”
“Not you though, I’ll bet,” Abby said softly. Flann looked tired, shadows under her eyes, her face paler than she’d ever seen her. She even looked thinner, if that was possible after two days.
