“Hey,” Angie said.
“Hey.”
“You don’t know how many nights we’ve made love in my dreams. But it never compared to that.”
Meryl’s lips curled into a smile. “Really?”
Angie nodded and brushed the back of her hand against Meryl’s cheek. “Yeah, really. Will you hold me?”
“Always.” Meryl moved so she was lying on the pillow. She pulled Angie close to rest her head on Meryl’s chest.
Angie fell asleep with the sound of Meryl’s steady heart beating in her ear.
Chapter 18
Meryl padded around the kitchen, humming as she stood over the burner, flipping the two omelets in the frying pan. She’d slipped out of bed while Angie lay sleeping and had taken one of Angie’s T-shirts from the closet. That and her panties made up her morning ensemble. The shirt had a faded sun and palm tree on the front with, “It’s More Fun Under the Sun” scrawled across the chest.
She’d awakened ravenous and watched Angie sleep for several minutes, then she’d decided to make breakfast. She’d foraged in the refrigerator and found all the ingredients she needed.
She turned the omelets one last time. She buttered the toast and poured juice into two glasses. Successful in her earlier search for a lap tray, she placed everything on it and carried the loaded tray to the bedroom.
Meryl stood in the doorway, admiring Angie sprawled out on the bed. A tanned leg stuck out from the sheet, and her dark hair fell across her forehead.
“If you’re dressed like that, you can bring breakfast to me anytime.”
Angie’s husky voice had the same effect on her as when they were in college. Meryl felt it reverberate all the way to her toes.
She brought the food to the bed, but her step faltered when Angie sat up and briefly bared her body before wrapping herself in the sheet. Angie leaned against the headboard. “I thought you could use some sustenance after last night,” Meryl said.
Angie took the tray, and Meryl sat down cross-legged in front of her.
“You don’t mind if I share your tray, do you?” Meryl asked.
“Not at all.” Angie took a bite of her omelet. “Yum,” she said while holding up her fork.
“You like it?”
“It’s perfect.”
Meryl munched happily on her toast. She felt so domesticated, like she could do this for the rest of her life and never tire of it. The feeling bubbled up inside of her like a fountain.
“This does feel right, doesn’t it?” Angie asked, as if reading her mind.
“Yes. It does.”
They shared a smile before resuming eating.
“What’s the next plan of action for finding Hal Morris?” Meryl asked.
Angie coughed on her toast. She reached for her juice and drained the glass.
“Do you need me to get you some more juice?” Meryl asked.
“No. This was enough. My toast just went down the wrong pipe.” Angie wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Uh, I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I already searched your white pages. Hal Morris isn’t listed. But maybe we can ask around town.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound sure. If it’s a problem taking me around… I mean, you have a bar to run and—”
“No. I have the time.” Angie finished the last of her omelet.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower and go back to my hotel.”
“You go ahead. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Meryl walked toward the bathroom.
“Towels and washcloths are on your left there in the closet.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
What? You thought she’d let it drop? Angie cursed herself for letting a bad situation get worse by leaps and bounds. She pondered the mess she was in before rising and carrying the tray of dirty dishes into the kitchen.
She talked to the plates and silverware as she tossed them in the dishwasher. “Maybe if I show her around for the rest of the week, she’ll give up, and I can pretend that she was never here searching for Zach England. She just popped up out of nowhere and reentered my life. All of this searching for Zach England stuff needs to end. She’s not going to find him anyway.”
Angie put the last fork in the dishwasher. “My God, listen to me. I’m delusional and I’m talking to household furnishings.”
“Did you say something?”
Angie swiveled around.
Meryl stood in the entryway between the kitchen and dining room. She was wearing Angie’s robe, which was about a size too small.
“Ange? Did you say something?” Meryl repeated. She tilted her head to the side and twisted the ends of her hair with the towel.
“I was thinking out loud. Why don’t you go to your hotel and change clothes? I’ll take a shower and pick you up in, what, an hour or so?”
“It’s nine-thirty. How about eleven in front of the hotel? You can take me around, and I can do some more searching. Then we can have a late lunch or early dinner somewhere in town.” Meryl walked over to Angie and gave her a soulful kiss. “Mmm. I could do that forever. Last night was incredible, by the way, although I wouldn’t think I had to tell you that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s still nice to hear.”
“I can say it as many times as you like.” Meryl kissed her again. “I’ll dress and walk back to the hotel while you’re getting ready.”
After Meryl left, Angie stood under the hot spray of the shower, doing her best to rid her mind of any guilt. She was drying off when her cell phone rang in the bedroom. She walked to the dresser and picked it up.
“Hi, Sally.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled to hear from me.” Sally crunched down on something.
“Please don’t let me get in the way of your snack.”
“Hey, I have to take what I can get anytime I can. Today it happens to be Fritos.” Another loud crunch. “I guess you figured out why I’m calling.”
“What does S & S want now?”
“A simple update on where you are on your ninth Derek Barker installment.”
“This week isn’t a good one for me to write.”
“To write, period? Or just the Barker book?”
Angie caught the edge to Sally’s voice.
“I haven’t written anything the past couple of days, but I’ll start writing Barker again next week. I’ve never been late on a deadline, and I won’t start now.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on that’s more important than writing?”
“No.”
Another loud crunch assaulted Angie’s eardrum.
“I guess I have to trust you on this,” Sally said.
“Thank you.”
“Keep me posted where you’re at next week.”
“Will do.”
Angie clicked the phone off, trying to remember why she needed an agent.
* * *
Angie picked up Meryl in front of the hotel at eleven. She took her to the restaurants and bars that lined Duval. About three-thirty, they stopped for a late lunch.
They took their seats at a small seafood restaurant off the beaten path. Angie had dined there on occasion to reminisce about the times she spent with her dad at a similar restaurant in Youngstown. Her father would tell her that it was a secret place only the two of them knew about. It seemed like ages ago.
Angie stared out the window, lost in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Meryl asked.
“Sometimes when I come here, I find myself thinking about home.”
A look of sympathy crossed Meryl’s face.
“You said you’re still close to Jan, though, right?”
“Thank goodness. In fact, she called recently and asked when she can come to visit.”
“I’m not keeping her from coming, am I?”
“Not at all. I’ve been working on my writing, and I told her I had a dead—” Angie stopped in mid-sentence.
“Ye
s? You’re with a publisher then?”
“Yeah.” Angie fumbled with the cloth napkin in her lap.
“May I ask who?”
Angie blurted out the name of the lesbian publishing house that had published her three books.
“That’s who you were with previously, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll do well there again. You’re a gifted author. From what I saw in your novels, you still have the talent I was so impressed by when we were in college. I can’t wait to read this next one. Is it a mystery?”
“No. More of a romance this time.”
“Now I really want to read it,” Meryl said with a smile.
The waiter served their food.
“What brought you to Key West?” Meryl asked while squirting a lemon wedge onto her fish.
“For one thing, it’s 1200 miles away from my family.”
“Ah, okay.”
“I also love it because it’s so gay-friendly here, and it’s a good place to hone my writing. As you said, I’ve adopted the brooding writer in Key West thing.”
“Don’t hold that comment against me. I was teasing,” Meryl said. “Sort of.”
“It’s true.”
“You’ve cultivated the perfect writer look in your years here.” Meryl’s tone was light. “So, you’ve been writing all along, but up until now, you’ve had no luck getting published, other than those three mystery novels, right?”
“Right. I was working on manuscripts, but just recently managed to get this one accepted for publication.” And the lies kept slipping off her tongue like melted butter.
“As long as you’re writing, then this is the place for you.”
“And you?”
Meryl paused in bringing her fork to her mouth. “What about me?”
“How’s your relationship with your dad?”
Meryl’s face turned ashen-white. She dropped her fork onto her plate.
Angie grabbed her hand. “Forgive me for bringing it up, Meryl.”
“No. It’s all right.”
“If you don’t want to talk—”
Meryl squeezed her hand. “My father’s dying of pancreatic cancer. I haven’t seen or talked to him in several months. Not too long after I found out he was sick.”
“Is this about the marriage?”
“It goes deeper than that. I’ll tell you sometime, Angie, just not right now.”
Angie held her hand a little tighter. “In your time.” She noticed the boats tied at the nearby docks. “Hey, want to hear about my early exploits at piloting a boat? It wasn’t pretty. Let’s just say the other captains around here gave me a wide berth until I’d gotten a better handle on it.”
Meryl laughed. “I can just picture you out there as a novice. You didn’t wear one of those silly captain’s hats did you?”
“Now that you mention it…”
Chapter 19
The rest of the week flew by. They searched for Zach England’s nonexistent alter ego during the day—either on land or on Angie’s boat. Angie was so lost in Meryl that she’d almost convinced herself there really was a Hal Morris.
On Friday, Angie took Meryl out again on The Pride of Youngstown.
“We can make another pass to the south,” Angie shouted over the drone of the engines.
Meryl crossed the deck and stood beside Angie. She leaned down so that her mouth was by Angie’s ear. “It’s all right. We’re not going to find him.”
Angie tried to hide her surprise. “Meryl, don’t give up.”
“No. You thought it might be Hal Morris, but I’m convinced it’s not him. Either that or the people in this town are protecting him. Which is fine. I’m sure that’s how he wants it. It still would have been nice to get an interview even if my theory about him being a woman was wrong. I need to call my editor and tell him I’ve hit a dead end.”
Dozens of feelings bombarded Angie at hearing those words, and relief was one of them. Immense relief. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more help,” she said.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“Would you like to stay out here tonight?” Angie asked.
“We could do that?” Meryl’s face lit up.
“Yeah.” Angie shifted the boat down to idle and shut off the engines. “How about we anchor here for the evening?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Angie dropped the anchors. Meryl stepped out from under the bimini top to join her.
“What a beautiful sunset.” Meryl stared out over the water.
Angie marveled as Meryl’s face glowed with the last golden rays of the late afternoon sun. “What a beautiful woman.”
Meryl turned to her. “Hmm?”
“Why don’t we go below?”
They stepped downstairs.
“Would you like a drink?” Angie asked.
“What do you have?” Meryl stood behind Angie at the bar, perusing the array of liquor. “Chivas on the rocks?”
“You got it.”
Angie dropped some ice in a tumbler and poured the Scotch into the glass. She handed it to Meryl.
“Thanks.” Meryl took a sip and peered at Angie over her glass. “If you love me, you’ll let me cut your hair.”
“Huh?”
“You’re not afraid to let a femme cut your hair, are you?”
“Well, no, it’s that—”
“It’s that you’re as particular now who you deem worthy to cut your hair as you were when we were at Lehigh. I take it you don’t trust me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then where are your scissors and comb? I’m certain you have a comb on your person as we speak.” Meryl set her drink down. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Fork it over.”
Angie sighed. She took her small comb from the side pocket of her cargo shorts and handed it to Meryl.
“Now all we need are a pair of scissors.” Meryl went to the galley counter and rifled through the drawers.
Angie knew when she was beat. “The top drawer on the left.”
Meryl pulled out a large pair of scissors. “Perfect.” She reopened a few drawers. “Towel?”
“Bath towels are stowed in the locker in the hall.”
“Ooh, how nautical. I’ll let you go first so you can douse your head in the sink.”
Meryl followed Angie down the short hallway. Angie dipped her head under the water from the tap.
Meryl handed her the towel to drape over her head. She grabbed Angie’s hand. “Come on. Let’s do this on the deck where we can clean up the hair more easily.”
“Jesus, Meryl, how much are you cutting?”
“Stop being a baby.”
Meryl pointed to one of the chairs. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Angie dropped into the vinyl seat.
Meryl pulled the towel from Angie’s head and draped it around her shoulders. “How much should I cut?”
Angie glanced up at Meryl and noticed her playful grin. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“Yes, I am.” She leaned over and Angie could see the swell of her breasts in the V-opening of her tank top. “But the prospect of cutting your hair is incredibly sexy.”
Angie tingled at Meryl’s words. “About an inch.” She held the wet bangs off her forehead. “Make sure to cut these back.”
Meryl began snipping. Angie tried not to squirm as she watched the black hair fall at her feet. She glanced up at Meryl while she worked on the bangs.
Meryl pursed her lips.
Angie giggled.
“What?” Meryl asked.
“You’re as intense as an artist painting a masterpiece.”
Meryl waved the scissors in front of Angie. “Have you forgotten I still have these?”
Angie held up her hand in defense. “I was only joking.”
Meryl started cutting again. A few more minutes passed. Meryl did one more snip with a flourish. “Voilá!”
Angie tried to judge t
he length in the back. It felt right.
“I know, I know,” Meryl said as she gathered the fallen hair and tossed it into the water. “You want a mirror.”
Angie doffed the towel, jumped up, and sprinted down the stairs. Meryl’s laughter followed her into the cabin. Angie hurried to the head and looked in the mirror. She ran her fingers through the wet strands. “Not bad, not bad at all.”
Meryl came in beside her and put her arm around her shoulder. “So?”
“You can now be my official hairdresser.”
Meryl ruffled what Angie had just smoothed down.
“Hey!” Angie said in mock anger. She smoothed it back into place.
“Oh, please!” Meryl ruffled her hair again.
Angie took hold of Meryl’s hand and pulled her to her body. “You like it messed up, do you?”
Meryl brought her mouth to Angie’s and locked her in a long, intense kiss. “I think you need to get a shower to get rid of this hair.” She plucked a wet strand from Angie’s shoulder and held it up.
“Why don’t you go into the sleeping berth?” Angie pointed to the left. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Twin or queen?” Meryl asked from around the corner.
“I think either would do given the way we sleep together, don’t you?”
Angie cranked on the water in the shower. She made short work rinsing off the loose hair clippings. She didn’t bother dressing before entering the sleeping berth.
Meryl lay in the queen bed with the sheet covering her breasts.
Angie joined her on the bed. She took her time kissing every inch of Meryl’s body, lingering in her most intimate places until Meryl cried out her name. Angie moved onto her back and held Meryl in her arms.
“I love you,” Meryl said as she trailed her fingers between Angie’s breasts. “I never stopped loving you.” She rose up on her elbow and kissed Angie.
Angie pulled her even closer to deepen the kiss. “I love you, too.”
They made love until exhaustion overtook them. Angie curled up next to Meryl as the gentle sway of the boat nudged her into a deep slumber.
* * *
Meryl stood in front of the locked bathroom door at her parents’ house. She lifted her hand to the top bolt. Fear stabbed her with its piercing knife. She inched back the lock. There were two more to unlock. She pushed each one to the left and reached for the doorknob.
Come Back to Me Page 15
