Wayworn Lovers

by Gun Brooke

  Groaning, she finished washing her hands and wiped them on a thick terry-cloth towel. Her stomach growled. Time to eat something. . On her way through the bedroom to the kitchen, she checked the alarm clock. Only eight thirty—hopefully not in the evening.

  The kitchen was empty apart from Mister, who rushed in from the foyer, eagerly circling her feet when she opened the fridge. It was probably smart to start easy, so Tierney pulled out some strawberry yogurt and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. She sat down at the table in the breakfast nook, attempting to open the lid, but it was impossible, as her fingers were sore.

  “Tierney?” Giselle’s voice made Tierney lift her gaze, concerned. “What are you doing up?”

  “I was hungry.” Tierney watched Giselle hurry toward her.

  “You should’ve called me. I was in the living room reading so I’d hear you.” Giselle sat down beside her.

  “But I’m okay. I mean, I’m not dizzy and my headache’s pretty much gone. Sore everywhere else though.” Tierney smiled encouragingly, as it didn’t seem like Giselle quite believed her. “Could you open the yogurt for me?” She nudged it toward Giselle.

  “Of course.” Giselle pulled off the lid with ease. “Please tell me that’s not all you’re having.”

  “I’m starting with this, as I’m not sure how my stomach will react. I’m hungry, but it’s not smart to overdo.”

  “You’re not nauseous, are you?” New concern appeared on Giselle’s face.

  “No. Just kind of weak and trembly.” Tierney shrugged and took a mouthful of yogurt. To her relief, it tasted great, and she quickly wolfed it down. “Ah. Nice.”

  “What else can I make you? Some eggs?” Giselle stood.

  “No. Thank you. I would love some orange juice, though. And maybe a banana.”

  Giselle fetched everything for her and sat down again, peeling the banana. “I want you to take it really easy for a couple of days, all right? The nurse said we should change the bandage once a day but not disturb the stitches.”

  “I can manage that. And I’ll probably bounce back sooner than you think. By the way, where’s Steph?”

  “She insists she’s the new designated dog walker.” Giselle smiled faintly. “As my dog and she are clearly joined at the hip, I knew better than to object.”

  “Yeah. Charley took to her immediately. And vice versa.”

  Something resembling remorse flicked across Giselle’s face. She smoothed down her hair that she kept in a low ponytail. “Do you think Charley fulfills a need in Stephanie? I mean, on a very deep level?”

  “I suppose, but why do you ask?” Tierney finished her banana.

  “I don’t want to cause her unnecessary pain when she has to move to her new foster home.” Giselle rubbed her arms as if suddenly cold.

  Tierney rested an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “Foster kids always live with that reality.”

  “That may be, but I don’t want to cause her this pain. She’s been through enough.” Giselle’s eyes flashed at Tierney.

  “Well, unless you plan to send Charley with her when she leaves, it’s unavoidable. You don’t want to deprive her of the joy of bonding with a dog either, do you?” Tierney placed her free hand over Giselle’s restless one.

  “Of course not. Why does this have to be so damn complicated?”

  Squeezing Tierney’s hand too hard, probably out of frustration, Giselle sighed.

  “Ouch.”

  She flinched. “Oh, God. Did I hurt you?” She cupped Tierney’s hand in both of hers, examining it. “Damn. You must be sore. No wonder you couldn’t open the yogurt on your own.” She kissed the undamaged skin on the back of the hand.

  Tierney stared at Giselle, and flashbacks from last night, the closeness, the embraces, the soft kisses on her skin, all flooded back. They’d talked about how they both were lesbians, about kissing and attraction—and, oh God—how Giselle had held Tierney as if she were irreplaceable…even precious. “Giselle?” she whispered now, her mouth dry.

  “Yes?” Frowning, Giselle looked as if she regretted everything.

  “You held me last night.” Tierney tried to fathom how this could have happened but, more importantly, how she could have forgotten about it until now. Perhaps her concussion was more serious than she’d thought.

  “I did. I had to.”

  “Had to?” What kind of word was that to use?

  “I mean, I wanted to. For purely selfish reasons, I needed to feel that you were safe, breathing and, well, here.” Small pink areas appeared on Giselle’s cheekbones. “You did scare us.”

  “I know. We talked about that last night as well. You said you had a rather strong reaction to my being injured.” Tierney couldn’t stop asking for details. She needed to confirm what had taken place last night rather than what she’d dreamed.

  “Yes.” Giselle adjusted her shirt and again smoothed down her ponytail.

  “And I said I might ask for a kiss?” Tierney phrased the words as a question since she thought they couldn’t possibly be true. Where would she have gotten such a bout of courage?

  “Yes.” Not elaborating, Giselle looked down at their still-joined hands.

  “You probably guessed that I really, really like you,” Tierney whispered.

  Giselle didn’t answer, but her eyes darkened as she let go of Tierney’s hand and gently placed her own on Tierney’s undamaged cheek. Running her thumb along Tierney’s lower lip, she leaned closer and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but that was enough for Tierney to lose her breath. Sliding forward on the chair, she slipped a hand under Giselle’s hair and cupped her neck. After she pulled her forward gently, she returned the kiss, only slightly less chaste and a few seconds longer.

  A door opened and closed in the foyer. Dazed, Tierney pulled back, only to be attacked by a panting Charley, who seemed overjoyed to see her.

  “Charley, down!” Giselle said firmly. The dog, normally so disobedient, sat down so fast she almost toppled over. “Good dog. Stay.” Giselle put her hand on top of Charley’s head. The dog wagged her tail frenetically as she looked back and forth between them.

  “Hey, you’re up!” Stephanie entered the kitchen, smiling broadly at Tierney. “You look better. All pink, like.” She gazed back and forth between Tierney and Giselle, her grin growing even wider. “You too, Giselle. All pink. Imagine that.”

  “Brat.” Tierney stuck her tongue out toward the now-giggling girl. “When did you get out of bed?”

  “At seven. Charley woke me up by hogging the bed and making me too warm. I was reading a bit, and then I heard Giselle. We had breakfast, and then I walked Charley. She’s so good at tracking. I was trying to hide in the woods, and she found me in five seconds.”

  Giselle looked tormented for a moment, obviously thinking of her statement earlier, about not wanting to hurt Stephanie. “She’s practiced on the cat ever since she was a puppy. Mister would try to hide from her and her baby teeth, but she’d find him and chase him through the house.”

  “Oh, I would’ve liked to see that.” Sitting down across the table, Stephanie sighed. “I bet she was a super-cute puppy.”

  “She was. Little did I know what was in store for me when she grew older.” Giselle tried to scowl at her dog, but Tierney could tell she was hard-pressed not to smile. “I have to admit that the two of you are a good influence on her.”

  “Yeah?” Preening, Stephanie scratched behind Charley’s ears. “She’s a good girl. Aren’t you, cutie?”

  Charley looked like she agreed. Or, rather, like she thought it should be obvious. Walking over to her water bowl, she drank some and then flopped down on the floor with a thud.

  Fatigue washed over Tierney. She’d been out of bed for less than an hour and was already exhausted. “I think I need to go back to bed, actually.” Standing up, she found the floor tilting in a way it usually didn’t. “Oy. A bit dizzy.”

  “Let me help you.” Giselle stood and w
rapped her arm around Tierney’s waist. “Back to bed indeed.” She turned to Stephanie. “Thanks for walking Charley. I’m going to help Tierney and then head to the music room for a few hours. Can you check on her in an hour?”

  “Sure thing, Giselle.” Making the thumbs-up sign, Stephanie stood. She took an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, then tilted her head. “Okay if I watch a movie?”

  “Absolutely. Don’t let Charley onto the couch without putting one of the blankets on it first, though.”

  Nodding, Stephanie came over and kissed Tierney’s cheek and then bounded off toward the living room, Charley right behind her.

  “God, that energy,” Tierney moaned. “Makes me feel old.”

  “And where does that leave me?” Giselle made a wry face. “Ancient.”

  “Hardly.” Crinkling her nose, Tierney leaned on Giselle. “I mean, who’s leaning on whom here?”

  “For very different reasons.” Giselle guided Tierney back to the bedroom.

  “Eh. I’m doing much better, you know. No need for me to hog your bed.”

  Giselle stopped and looked down at her. “Would you rather be in the guest room?” Her expression didn’t give anything away.

  “That’s a trick question, right?” What did Giselle want her to do? Stay in the main bedroom or, which was more reasonable, return to the guest room? She was still only an employee, wasn’t she? Surely, they needed to set boundaries, or tear them down, before they took things further. If that was what they were doing?

  Tierney shifted her feet restlessly. “I would never assume. I’m your assistant, after all. Or so far. You know?” She felt stupid now. If only a handy little sinkhole would swallow her.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” Giselle didn’t let go of her but took half a step away, putting a distance between them. “Either way is fine with me.” Her forlorn expression belied her words. She raised her chin in what could be taken for a clear challenge or a standoffish pose.

  “Don’t you know from the kiss in the kitchen how much I want to be close to you?” Tierney asked. Was she creating a terrible precedent by feeling she always had to take the first step and be the reassuring one? At least that was what it felt like.

  “The kisses were sweet, but how do I know if you regret them now?” Rigid now, Giselle seemed to pull farther and farther away.

  “I don’t. Do you?” Making sure her voice was soft and non-challenging, Tierney tried to decipher why Giselle’s eyes had suddenly grown flat and opaque and her body so braced for impact.

  “I don’t, no. So, which bedroom, Tierney?” Impatience seeped into Giselle’s voice.

  “I actually like both you and your bed,” Tierney said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Giselle didn’t return the smile but stepped closer to Tierney again and helped her make it to the bed. She straightened the sheets, as the bed was still unmade, and pulled the covers up over Tierney when she lay down. “Rest for a few hours. Should I wake you up when it’s time for lunch?”

  “Yes, please. If you wake me up half an hour earlier, I can check the freezer—”

  “Stephanie and I’ll make lunch for the three of us. You’re recuperating.” Her eyes narrowing now, Giselle stood.

  “All right, all right. Don’t chew me out like that. Remember, I’m convalescing.”

  Giselle smiled faintly. “Glad you realize it. Yes, you’re my assistant, but I hoped you’d realize you’re much more than that by now.” She kept her distance and held her hands loosely laced in front of her.

  “How could I have realized anything of the sort?” Her lips trembling now, Tierney had no idea how everything could suddenly be her fault. “I’m not a mind reader.”

  Giselle looked like she was about to leave, but instead she bent and placed a gentle kiss on Tierney’s temple. “Sleep well, angel.” She straightened and walked rapidly out of the room.

  Tierney raised her hand to her temple and placed two fingers where Giselle had kissed her. She tried to press the wonderful feeling the caress had left behind closer, to keep it with her forever. This woman was an enigma, so hard to read, and unpredictable in all sorts of ways.

  Turning on her side, she grabbed one of Giselle’s pillows and embraced it. The magical scent of citrus and flowers engulfed her, making her bury her face against the zillion-thread-count pillowcase. So exhausted that tears rose in her eyes, Tierney sobbed quietly into the pillow.

  Then her mind pinged and something pierced her senses. Angel? Giselle had called her an angel. That had to mean something. She’d never called Tierney by any nickname, and why should she? Inhaling again, Tierney combined the memories of Giselle’s voice and the touch of her lips with the scent of her on the pillow. Closing her eyes, she finally allowed herself to relax. It was extraordinarily easy to fall asleep in Giselle’s bed. It wrapped around her aching body like a warm cloud of cotton, and the last image on her mind before sleep claimed her was how Giselle had looked when she kissed her in the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Four days after the horrible shock Giselle had lived through when Tierney had collided with a car, she strode toward the door after the gate bell rang. She opened it and saw two women and one man standing on the gravel road next to a Chevrolet SUV. Frowning, it took her a few moments to recognize the women. One was Daphne Croy, owner of one of the many gift shops in the artisan area of town. The other woman was Leanne Walters. The man was unfamiliar, but Giselle surmised it was Leanne’s police husband.

  Fighting a constricting sensation in her throat, Giselle felt her heart began to hammer. Why were they here? If what she’d heard about these women was true, they weren’t here to apologize to Tierney. Groaning inwardly at having to deal with virtual strangers, Giselle told herself everything would be fine. It was broad daylight, and she was within her own fenced garden. Forcing herself to assume the role she’d had some success playing—that of a self-assured, worldly woman—she raised her chin and walked toward the three of them by the gate with long, certain steps.

  “Hello,” Giselle said calmly, proud her voice didn’t wobble. “What can I do for you?”

  “Ms. Bonnaire.” The man extended his hand over the gate. Reluctantly, Giselle shook it. His grip was close to painful, and she nearly yanked her hand back. Instead she raised her right eyebrow at him until he let go. He obviously didn’t care that she was a composer and her hands were her tools. “My name is Bob Walters. I’m the chief of police at the East Quay precinct.”

  “And you always take your wife and her friend with you on police business, Bob?” Giselle asked smoothly. Leanne pursed her lips, a reaction Giselle found quite satisfying.

  “I’m not on duty today. Leanne wanted me to come along for two reasons. Could we perhaps go inside and discuss these matters?” He motioned toward the gate. “I see you have a good security system. Good thinking since you live alone out here.”

  Giselle wanted to smack the condescending little prick with the electric flyswatter Frances had bought her a year ago. “No. We can talk here.” She wouldn’t bother to be politer than that.

  “Please, Giselle…may I call you Giselle?” Leanne smiled cordially.

  “Ms. Bonnaire is fine since we’re not actually acquainted.” Returning the smile with her own, Giselle knew she gave a very aloof and close-to-rude impression.

  “Very well.” Leanne’s bloodred lips became a narrow line. “We have reason for concern regarding the woman you have employed. It wouldn’t be neighborly of us if we didn’t inform you of what we’ve learned. As Bob said, after all, you live out here alone.”

  “And what, pray tell, have you discovered?” Giselle wasn’t interested, but she wanted to know what gossip these three were spreading in town. She wasn’t apprehensive regarding herself, but for Tierney, who did the shopping and drove into East Quay several times a week.

  “Your employee, Tierney Edwards, has a record.” Bob Walters frowned and clearly attempted to mimic a very worried “
neighbor.” “I did a background check on her, and at first I didn’t find anything, but my wife had a hunch I should widen my search, which I did. When I tried Illinois, I found a sealed juvenile record. Of course, I can’t access it without a court order, but it’s enough to warrant alarm.”

  “I find all this concern and curiosity puzzling.” Giselle forced herself to keep her hands loose at her side. If she impulsively folded them over her chest, she would only come across as defensive. “When you think about it, Mrs. Walters, you encouraged Tierney to apply for a job in my home. You suggested that she fake references from Frances, and by doing so you said it would be easier to gain my trust. But Tierney is far too honest and caring to do that.”

  “Honest and caring?” Leanne snorted derisively. “If you could have seen what she did to my dog five days ago, and heard what she said to me, you would think differently.”

  “The dog you hired her to take for a walk, which she let have some fun with dogs he had met before? That dog?” Giselle placed a hand on her hip. “Not to mention how rude and unappreciative you were when she returned.”

  “She was late!” Leanne’s eyes glimmered. “For all I knew, she could have sold Timo for scientific experiments.”

  Leanne’s husband shot his wife a surprised look. “That’s taking it a bit too far, honey, but she should’ve been back on time. And being rude to strangers like that is a surefire sign she’s not stable. Combine that with her juvie record, and we see a pattern.”

  “That’s right,” Leanne said and nodded.

  “So you didn’t tell her to lie to get a job here then?” Giselle tilted her head and let her gaze travel between Leanne and Daphne, her trusty sidekick.