Painted Moon

by Karin Kallmaker

  "They shouldn't have kept you away," Jackie said. Leah's body was shuddering.

  Leah pushed her away. "Where was their fucking Christian charity?" She gripped Jackie's arms with her powerful hands and stared up at her with eyes like hot irons. "If God is love and Jesus is their friend, then why wouldn't they tell me where the funeral was? Why wouldn't they tell me where she's buried?"

  Jackie winced as Leah squeezed her arms. "I don't know, Leah. They were wrong."

  Leah shoved her away and leapt up from her chair. She scrambled up the ladder to the loft without a backward glance, leaving Jackie to rub her bruised arms and stare up at the dark loft.

  She had a lump in her throat. If something happened to Parker, would she feel that much anguish and grief? Two years or more later? No, she told herself. The answer was no. And she was a fool to continue thinking otherwise and to continue sacrificing for the sake of their relationship. She didn't feel for him or from him what her parents felt for each other. She didn't feel what Leah had obviously felt for Sharla.

  That they were lesbians didn't trouble her. Both her parents had taught her that people's private lives were their own and it wasn't her place to judge them. She herself didn't have sexual feelings about other women, but that didn't mean what they felt for each other was any less real. She understood it on an intellectual level. She turned away from that thought, though it troubled her somehow, and not intellectually. She did not want to think about Leah with Sharla.

  As she poked listlessly at the fire in the living room stove, she dwelled on the subject of Parker. All her mother's pointed remarks to the contrary, it hadn't been until Leah had asked if Parker appreciated her that she'd realized what her mother had been trying to tell her. Parker didn't value her as much as she valued him. She hadn't quite realized how accommodating she had been to maintain their relationship.

  The more she thought about the car the more it pissed her off. Just because Parker made more by the hour didn't mean his leisure time was more valuable than hers. Why was she always the one to go to him? And because she did all the commuting, she'd hardly had a moment to explore San Francisco. Never driven up to the Muir Redwoods, for example, a mere 30 minutes away. Or driven through Wine Country in the summer, or down to Monterey in the fall—both were no more than three hours away from San Francisco.

  She unbraided her hair and slowly brushed out the snarls, all the while asking herself what she got in return from Parker for her devotion, her sacrifice and her steadfastness. What did he give of himself for their relationship? Including gas, groceries, movie, dinner, tax and tip, every weekend she went to see him cost her almost half of her net pay for the week. It wasn't that she was putting a price on seeing him — oh hell, maybe she was. It just seemed like it wasn't worth it. She got nothing in return.

  She couldn't think of anything. Not one single thing. Just last weekend Marge, the nurse she'd been meeting up with in the Jacuzzi, had brought along an extra couple of cookies on the off-chance that Jackie would be there. Her kind gesture was more than Parker ever managed. He'd even stopped keeping her favorite soft drink in the house. If she wanted some she had to bring it — and pay for it — herself.

  She drifted to sleep without intending to and woke some time later because she was freezing. The living room fire had gone out. Her fault — she hadn't been concentrating on stoking it up before she went to sleep.

  She warmed herself next to the banked kitchen stove, but it wasn't enough, even wrapped in a blanket. And she couldn't sleep on the kitchen floor — it would leach all the heat out of her body.

  She looked at the ladder to the loft and shuddered violently from the cold. Maybe Leah wouldn't Uke it, but she had to sleep up there. Leah had said it was a king, so she should be able to slip in without disturbing her.

  She moved as quietly as possible up the ladder, no easy feat since she was shivering from head to toe. She heard the steady sound of Leah's breathing. The temperature was almost bearable when she reached the loft floor. Her eyes were adjusted enough to the dark to see that Leah was on the near side of the bed, so she carefully stepped around to the far side.

  She saw the dim glow of an electric blanket light, so she stripped down to her T-shirt and panties, then slipped between the sheets. Leah's breathing remained steady and deep. The warmth eased her shivers almost immediately, spreading a sensual relaxation through her fingertips and toes. In minutes she was asleep.

  Leah was having a beautiful dream and she hoped it wouldn't end soon. Under her hand was soft stomach. She moved slowly, trying to keep the spell. Fine ribs under her fingertips.

  It had been so long since her fingertips had felt this alive.

  She ran her fingers over the velvet skin and in her dream heard a soft sigh and the rustle of bedclothes. The body was closer to her now. She could stroke the smooth back.

  It wasn't Sharla's back. That's what she would have expected in a dream, but this back felt different. I still love you, my darling. But she would give herself this dream because it felt good.

  Her own body felt ripe and heavy as she caressed the dream woman. She felt a little dizzy because her fingertips were sending her such vivid, tactile sensations. She moved closer very slowly, afraid of waking herself. Finally from out of a tousle of hair — too much hair to be Sharla — she could see a sensuous column of throat. She moved the silky brown strands aside and pressed her lips to the pulse.

  The fire in her limbs leapt to full height. She kissed the throat, then the shoulders, again and again and knew she would wake herself, but she couldn't stop as her need burned stronger with each kiss.

  Then the dream woman sighed — a soft oh and a deep breath. She moved into Leah's arms and Leah couldn't restrain herself. Her hands caressed the melting breasts, then she took one in her mouth. The dream woman quivered in her arms and her back arched, offering.

  They moaned together.

  Leah jerked herself away just as Jackie went rigid and gasped, "No."

  "I'm sorry," Leah gasped back. In the dim light she could see Jackie frantically pulling her T-shirt down, yanking the covers up over her shoulders, putting barriers up between them. Leah said more calmly, "I didn't know what I was doing. I thought you were a dream."

  Jackie said, "It's okay. I understand. I should have stayed downstairs, but the fire went out. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "Of course not. I didn't either —"

  "I was surprised, that's all—"

  "It's okay. I started it. I thought you were Sharla. I was dreaming." That was a lie, Leah knew.

  Jackie said again, "It's okay. I was just surprised."

  And you were enjoying it, Leah thought. Until you were fully aware it was me, you were responding. Oh lay off it. She told herself crossly that even if deep down they were all sexual animals it didn't mean that Jackie was on the verge of becoming a lesbian. She was probably dreaming about her boyfriend and one pair of hands is much like another. Sooner or later she would miss that all-important thing men've got.

  "I promise to stay on my side," she said aloud. "I didn't know you were there. There won't be any repeats."

  'I trust you," Jackie said quietly in the dark. "It's okay. Let's go back to sleep."

  Leah curled into a motionless ball. She felt miserable and told herself it was because she had betrayed her memory of Sharla. She told herself that she could sleep, despite the needles of sensation that reminded her that she was a living woman with a real, live libido and that Sharla—her loving, compassionate Sharla—would have understood.

  Jackie emerged from the shower wrapped tightly in Sharla's chenille robe. Her hair hung in a curtain down her back and Leah's fingers twitched as she recalled too vividly what it had felt like last night. She was aware that Jackie wouldn't meet her gaze. She herself was too aware of how she had wanted that body — not Sharla's, not any woman's, but Jackie's body — near her. No matter how often she reminded herself that Jackie had a boyfriend waiting for her, the prickling in her finger
s wouldn't go away.

  "I'll make eggs," was all she said. "As a break from turkey leftovers."

  "Sounds good."

  Leah gathered the ingredients from the fridge, staring intently at the egg carton to avoid any eye contact with Jackie.

  As she set them down, Jackie said hesitantly, "Before you start that, I just need to clear the air about last night."

  "It's okay," Leah said. "I really don't know why I stepped over the line like that."

  "I don't know why I did either," Jackie said.

  Her voice was low and Leah heard her swallow. She turned to look at her, to watch that face flicker with emotions. She would paint it gray uncertainly, purple determination, chartreuse fear.

  "I have to be honest with you," Jackie continued. "I— I've never wanted a woman before. But I knew... last night. That you were a woman. I know I said stop, but that was the surprise of it. I didn't want you to stop. And now—" She put one hand to her throat and swallowed again. "I'm not sure what to do about it."

  Leah shook her head, deeply sorry about the mess she'd gotten them into. No matter what her own body wanted, she had to be firm. "I don't... I don't help straight women assuage their curiosity. You'll have to find someone else." Leah found herself swallowing hard, too. She felt short of breath.

  "That's not — I'm sorry, I didn't realize what I was asking. What... oh shit." Jackie's face was flushing crimson. The patch of skin visible at the top of the robe was tinted orchid pink. "Forget I brought it up. I've made everything awkward."

  "If you're really questioning —"

  "I don't know!" Jackie looked down at her feet. "The way my body feels doesn't make any sense. It feels strange, different. But you're right, I can't just ask you to work this out for me. I have to do it myself."

  Leah realized she was breathing hard. She had also unconsciously moved closer. "Jackie, it's not that I don't..." Want you. She did. Jackie had marched in here and dispelled Sharla's ghost. She wanted to hold onto this warm, breathing, lovely body as long as she could.

  Jackie's gaze was unfocused, her mouth slightly parted. Leah couldn't stop herself from staring at Jackie's lips. She'd stared at them too long last night. She had wanted to touch them too much last night. They were even fuller than before, glistening. She devoured the rest of the face that she had already spent hours sketching. Skin flushed, slightly damp.

  She pulled slowly and gently on the lapel of Sharla's robe. The knot around Jackie's waist loosened. Sharla's robe, but Jackie's body within.

  She could see Jackie's nipples thrusting hard against the chenille, rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Leah tightened her grasp on the robe and the knot fell open. Leah's vision swam as she took in the plush, pliant swell of Jackie's stomach and the dark tangle of hair below it.

  She heard Jackie's voice from far away. "God, Leah, I don't know what to do. But I want to do it."

  Her hands slipped around Jackie's waist. She stepped into the widening circle of Jackie's arms. Jackie's lips were eager and welcoming when Leah kissed her.

  With a moan Jackie drew Leah's body fully against her own. Leah wouldn't have pressed Jackie so hard against the counter, but Jackie was tightening her arms, crushing Leah's mouth with painful need. She murmured small noises of pleasure and invited Leah to explore her mouth with a breathless brush of her tongue against Leah's.

  Leah reveled in the sweetness that waited for her. She thirsted for more. Her hands gripped Jackie's ribs, then, more roughly than she meant to, she grasped Jackie's breasts. Jackie broke the bruising hunger of their kiss.

  "I'm sorry," Leah gasped. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

  "I'm scared," Jackie whispered. "I'm scared to death." Her lips were trembling. Then she drew Leah's hands to her breasts again and shuddered as Leah stroked them. She was breathing hard and the arms she put around Leah's neck were shaking. But she pulled Leah's face down again for another kiss as Leah explored the fullness of Jackie's breasts.

  Time passed in uneven waves until Leah raised her head at an unfamiliar sound. A car horn.

  Jackie stiffened. The horn repeated again. A man's voice haloed down from the road. Jackie gave a cry of frustration and Leah realized Jackie was near tears.

  "That must be your uncle," Leah managed to say. In the short pause they heard a door slam and the sound of the gate opening.

  Jackie nodded mutely. Leah watched the planes and angles try to sort themselves into the order Leah had sketched yesterday, but her lips looked too kissed, her face too stricken.

  Then she realized Jackie was leaving. Leaving. The gate clanged shut and the sound was a punch in the stomach.

  She whispered, "You're going away with them." What am I going to do, she thought desperately. I can't ask her to stay. She can't leave, she can't!

  "I don't want to go," Jackie said. "Not yet."

  "You want to know what you're missing," Leah said bitterly. "You want to know?" Jackie stared at her, then didn't resist as Leah pulled her into her arms for a harsh, hungry kiss.

  "This is what you're missing," she whispered in Jackie's ear. Her fingers slipped between Jackie's thighs. Jackie pulled away slightly, then her legs opened. Leah nearly cried out at the silken wetness that greeted her. She thrust in, her fingers coated.

  "Oh God," Jackie gasped. She threw her head back, moaning. "Yes."

  "This is what you're missing," Leah whispered fiercely, looking into Jackie's face. "It's like this between women. It's called fucking, Jackie." Jackie groaned, her mouth open, eyes almost closed. "There's more, so much more."

  Steps sounded on the walk outside. Leah pushed Jackie away, turned blindly to the sink. "Maybe when you're with him you'll imagine my mouth on you and wonder what it would have felt like."

  Jackie let out a sound like a sob and ran from the kitchen. Leah shoved her hands under the tap, scrubbing away the traces of Jackie's readiness. She met Jackie's uncle as he knocked on the door.

  Somehow she greeted him civilly. They'd met at the post office and market once or twice, and out walking in the woods. He was always civil. She invited him to warm up next to the fire while Jackie supposedly finished her shower. She asked about the height of the snow and pretended to listen to the detailed answer and his explanation of how they'd already winched Jackie's car up onto the road again. When Jackie hurried in, fully dressed in her own clothes, her face was as cool and calm as Leah had ever seen it. Glacier blue. Leah felt the familiar wall of unfeeling cold close around her.

  She offered Jackie a pair of her gloves. Jackie insisted that Leah write out her address so she'd know where to send them.

  They shook hands. Jackie's hand was like ice, but it trembled in Leah's grip.

  Leah watched her trudge up the slope to her uncle's truck, then she pulled Butch out of the doorway and shut the door on the picture of Jackie going out of her life before she was really in it.

  She'd been cruel. She'd never forgive herself.

  Her own pain was almost too much to bear.

  Butch began barking and wouldn't stop. Leah escaped into her studio and stared down at the sketches of the face she thought she'd known yesterday.

  She seized a new pad. Any chalk, any color would do for now. Today's face slowly developed out of the paper like a photograph absorbing light. Jackie wanting her.

  She tore the sheet from the pad and let it fall to the floor.

  Jackie saying yes.

  Colors this time.

  The blue and silver of Jackie saying yes.

  6

  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had the flu." Mary Nguyen leaned against Jackie's cubicle wall and regarded her with a faint hint of worry in her usually calm eyes.

  Jackie had trouble meeting Mary's deep brown gaze. She'd been having trouble looking women in the face ever since the weekend. "How do you know I don't have the flu?"

  "Because if you did you'd have called in sick like anyone with sense." She chewed on her lower lip.

  "I'd trade a nice cas
e of the flu for a week slaving on Mannings' behalf."

  "Be careful what you wish for..." Jackie smiled weakly.

  Mary shrugged. "I know, I could get it. When do you think the big powwow will be over?"

  It was Jackie's turn to shrug. Ledcor & Bidwell's key partners were in conference with the representatives of a small but prominent nonprofit housing developer. "I don't know why they're so hot to have this project. It's too small for them."

  "Politics, that's why. It may be small, but every city official will know the name of the architects who worked on it. And it's an affordable housing demonstration project that'll hopefully be repeated nationwide. The free publicity is worth a mint."

  Jackie nodded. She knew all this. She'd been asked to submit a set of designs for review by the partners, but hers had not been chosen for the final presentation to the client. Small wonder. The overall concept she'd gone with was blending into the affluent neighborhood to look like just another small apartment building with classic lines. Her creative efforts had been spent on the interior. Jackie didn't think people who lived there would want the building to stand out so everyone could point and say, "That's where the low income people live." Nor did she think the more affluent residents of the block would take to the extra traffic a "showpiece" would create. She'd bet they were already upset enough about low income people moving in.

  Well, what did she know about it? The drawings that were being presented had been drawn up by the general partner and featured a post-modern art deco exterior.

  "So why do you look so blue? You've been like this all week."

  Jackie realized she'd drifted off in the middle of her conversation. She'd been doing that ever since she'd left Leah's house. Left Leah's arms. It's called fucking, Jackie. She shuddered from head to toe. Leah's voice whispered in her ear constantly, despite her attempts to get Leah out of her head.