Wildflowers and Lace

by Caitlin Ricci

  Lyssa is finally ready to face the world as she truly is, and she’d love to find someone to share her life with. Cindy isn’t looking for a relationship, but when she meets Lyssa all that changes.

  Lyssa is ready to move on with her new life where she can be truly herself. She’s been trying new things, and a watercolor class sounds like fun. But when she gets there, no one wants to sit next to her. All the women treat her like an outcast, and Lyssa begins to doubt whether she was really ready for this step after all. But then Cindy sits down beside her, and the women form a quick friendship.

  Cindy has always considered herself to be straight, but that line is quickly blurring as she and Lyssa spend more time together. She doesn’t care that Lyssa is trans, or that her own family is less than pleased with her dating a woman. The people who matter most to her are happy for her, and for these two women, making each other happy is more than enough.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Wildflowers and Lace

  Copyright © 2020 Caitlin Ricci

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-2859-4

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Wildflowers and Lace

  Hillcrest Farm Book 3

  By

  Caitlin Ricci

  Chapter One

  Lyssa

  I hadn’t been ready to go out in public as me. Not yet. Not by a long shot. But I’d pushed myself to do it anyway. I’d bought a new dress. I was wearing cute boots. No heel, of course. I didn’t want to be really tall. Just some nice boots that went up to my knees. I’d had to order my calf size online, but they fit which was amazing. I’d never had knee-high boots growing up and now I could get them in every color if I wanted to. Which part of me really did.

  My hair was down to my shoulders. It had been a struggle growing it, but now it looked decent. At least I thought so. And I’d picked up some nice inserts to fill out my bra, which was also new. But all the clothes and the lipstick and even the anti-frizz goop that I’d put into my hair couldn’t make me feel like I was the same as the women coming in the art class with me.

  I’d been looking forward to this class in basic beginner watercolors for weeks. Painting was something I wasn’t good at. The class was a place to go out and meet other people and have a good time for a bit. There was even wine. I didn’t drink much, but it was there all the same.

  In class though, my confidence was starting to crumble. Each sideways glance, every little whisper, each new person who saw the empty seat next to me but decided to squeeze in somewhere else instead... I felt like an outsider, even in this cluster of people who were mostly strangers anyway. A few people had come with their friends. One person brought their daughter. But for the most part, everyone had come in alone. Just like me.

  I had smiled at them. I didn’t expect people to flock to me, but I didn’t think that I would feel quite so alien either. I didn’t figure on being gawked at this much, even in small town Arkansas.

  I was pretty much ready to grab my bag and leave when a woman with a big, noisy purse and dirty jeans sat down next to me.

  “Hey, is this seat taken?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not.” My voice was too quiet. I was never so soft spoken. I was still stuck between going and staying, but class was about to start and this woman was at least willing to share breathing space with me, so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. “Hi. I’m Lyssa.” My name was getting easier to say. It should be. I’d practiced saying it out loud hundreds of times by now.

  She stuck out her hand and smiled at me. “I’m Cindy.”

  We shook hands. I made sure to be gentle. Every stereotypical feminine thing was rushing through my head. Be delicate. Smile but don’t show teeth. Don’t laugh too loudly. Sit up. Keep my knees together. Cross my ankles.

  It was all just too much.

  “Oh, good. They have donuts for us. I’m going to go get some. Would you like me to bring you back any?”

  I was momentarily distracted from my panic. “I like donuts.”

  “Me too. I’ll be right back.”

  Cindy didn’t seem to be troubled by what it meant to be a woman by traditional standards as she shuffled noisily up to the buffet table and started piling her plate high with various donuts.

  She came back to our table and took one of the powdered sugar ones for herself. I chose a custard-filled. “Do you come to these art classes often?” I asked her between mouthfuls.

  Cindy shook her head and licked her fingers clean as she finished off the first donut and reached for another. Everyone else had taken one donut, if they’d taken any. But I didn’t mind. I appreciated that she wasn’t worried about what other people thought as she ate as many as she wanted.

  “I had some extra time today and the class still had some spots open,” Cindy answered. “How about you? Have you tried watercolors before?”

  I laughed softly. “Not at all. But...it looked like fun.”

  The scheduled social time ended, and the artist leading the class handed out materials. We each got a few sheets of watercolor paper, along with a handful of brushes and a palette of watercolors. We were making loose wildflowers, which I hadn’t understood the meaning of until she explained that it was just flowers without definite edges and details.

  I wasn’t bad at it. But I wasn’t exactly good either. I wasn’t any worse than Cindy, though. She was laughing at herself and working through her mistakes. I tried to take her lead and not stay so focused on my imperfections either.

  Her soft laughter and the momentarily touches she gave me as our legs bumped together, as accidental as they were, were distracting. But they made the class a lot more enjoyable than it would have been if I had stayed by myself.

  “This was fun,” she said as the class finished up. “I’m glad I came.”

  “Me too.” I gathered my things, but I wasn’t ready to go back to my quiet apartment and be alone again yet. “Would you like to get some coffee or tea or something? There’s a little cafe across the street.”

  Cindy took out her phone, then frowned. “I would, really, but I’ve got to go pick up my son. How about another time?”

  She looked like she was probably early thirties so her kid was probably kindergarten at most and, I assumed, that she was still very much with his dad. Not that Cindy had given me any indication that she might be interested in a date, but I wasn’t willing to discount anything at this point.

  “How old is your son?” I asked her. Even if she couldn’t meet for coffee, maybe we could just keep the conversation going for a little bit. Since coming out and starting to transition, I’d los
t most of my friends. I had one friend left, but he was pretty busy these days. He worked nights in an understaffed nursing home and was constantly working overtime.

  Cindy smirked. “Fifteen. Almost sixteen. My ex is really starting to freak out about how soon Kyle will be driving and then dating. The horrors.”

  She did not look at all old enough to have a teenager. And his dad was an ex too, so that was good information to have. Not that I was at all looking at the possibility of dating her. It was just an attraction. I didn’t even know if she was interested in women. “Maybe I’ll see you at the next watercolor class?” At least she’d sat next to me. Maybe there could be a friendship in our future after all.

  Cindy took out a business card and flipped it over. She quickly wrote her number on the back, then handed it to me. “I think they only have these things once a month. Maybe we could get that coffee next week?”

  I expected the card to be her business card, but it was for a horse trainer named Cameron. The horse in the photo, a big gray one, was pretty. The guy looked good too—not that I was into men, but I could appreciate them aesthetically. “Do you help train horses?”

  Cindy giggled. “No. Though I do enjoy riding them. Cameron is my ex’s younger brother. You’re welcome to come riding sometime if you want. Cameron trains horses, and he’s always got a few that are really gentle that anyone could rider. My ex, Gavin, and his brothers and their cousins all share this big farm about an hour north of here in Missouri. Cameron has the horses, Gavin has sheep. It’s a pretty place.”

  I hadn’t pegged her as a farmer’s wife. Or ex-wife, as the case was. I smiled at her. “That sounds really lovely. Maybe we could start with coffee before I embarrass myself in front of you on a horse though.”

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t be embarrassing yourself any more than I already do. After years of riding, I’m still not very good and I’m pretty sure Cameron has stopped trying to teach me how to ride better. It’s all good, though. I haven’t been thrown in a while and I have fun when I’m out there. But yes, coffee would be great. However, right now I do need to run.” She rolled up her watercolor and stuffed it into her already overflowing purse.

  “See you soon.” I was already anticipating that coffee date with her.

  “Yes. Absolutely. Bye.” She took off in a rush and I sat back, still smiling to myself. It had just been a little conversation. But Cindy hadn’t treated me any differently because I wasn’t cisgender. Her being friendly had made me feel really at ease in a way that I’d definitely needed today.

  Chapter Two

  Cindy

  I was late to pick up Kyle, but that was okay because I’d enjoyed the watercolor class, and meeting someone new was good too. Besides, Gavin really didn’t mind.

  I found my kid and his dad out front pouring soil into a big planter. “What are you two planting?” I asked them as I hopped out of my old car.

  Gavin smiled at me. “Nothing yet. Right now we’re just getting this thing filled. I figure some flowers might be pretty right here.”

  I thought flowers were pretty anywhere. “Sounds nice.” I wanted to tell him about the class, and about meeting Lyssa. But I also didn’t want to bore him. As bad as it was, and I knew it was, Gavin was really my best friend. He was my ex, and we’d never be romantic again, but he’d always been my best friend and getting a divorce hadn’t changed that. Our divorce might have even saved our friendship, as weird as that was. “I did one of those drop-in art classes today.”

  “If you brought it with you I’ll hang it up on the fridge,” Gavin joked.

  I swiped at his shoulder. Kyle laughed at us. But I took it out of my bag and handed it over to Gavin anyway. “It’s not good.” I’d only been half focused on it anyway.

  “I like it though. Flowy flowers. It’s pretty.” He showed it to Kyle, who nodded.

  Of course, neither of them were art critics, but I took the compliment anyway. “Thanks.”

  “Think you’ll do more of them?” Gavin asked me.

  I shrugged. “More watercolor paintings or more classes? The answer is the same either way. I’m not really sure, but it was fun. I don’t know if it’s ‘go to the craft store and spend a bunch in supplies’ fun right now. But it might be.”

  “I’m glad you went out and got social for a bit.” Gavin turned back to Kyle. “Get washed up before you get a bunch of dirt in your mom’s car. It’s not like my farm truck, which is supposed to be dirty.”

  I laughed and didn’t tell him about all the times that I’d eaten in the car. When we’d bought it together during our marriage, that had been something we’d promised each other we wouldn’t do in it. The car was supposed to be kept nice. The truck was supposed to be dirty. And while it was true that the car hadn’t ever been used to transport sheep to various vet appointments over the years, it still hadn’t been kept completely spotless either.

  From where we stood in front of Gavin’s house, I couldn’t see his sheep, but I could certainly hear them. I loved the sound of the sheep as they called to each other. When we’d been together I had spent hours just sitting out in the pasture with them, just being among them and giving them attention whenever they came over to visit me.

  “How are the sheep?” I asked Gavin.

  “They’re good. You know them. Not a whole lot bothers my beauties. If you want to go sit with the babies you can. You know that’s never going to bother me.”

  Gavin was really great to offer, but I didn’t want to impose. “Maybe next time.”

  He shrugged. “Whenever you want. It’s not like I have a whole lot going on today. I was just going to binge some shows and probably chill out with some pizza and ice cream.”

  Even though Kyle was getting washed up, I really wanted to join in on Gavin’s plan tonight. “Sounds like fun.”

  “I still have some rocky road in there if you want some...” he offered.

  Kyle and I didn’t have any plans for tonight. I hadn’t even started to think about dinner. But Gavin was supposed to have the rest of his weekend free of us. “Tell me honestly, would we be in the way or a bother to you at all?”

  Gavin laughed and gave me a hug. “You’re my best friend. You’re never going to be a bother. Now the kid, though...” I elbowed him in the ribs. “So you’re staying for dinner?”

  “If you’re absolutely sure you don’t mind...”

  He tugged me inside the house. “I don’t. At all. But we’re watching this show that I’ve been wanting to watch and I’m getting no complaints.”

  I could live with that. “Sure thing.” I turned to our son as Kyle came out of the house. “This okay for dinner?”

  “Yep.”

  He was instantly back on his phone and I shook my head. Getting him that thing had not been my best move. “Thanks for letting us stay,” I told Gavin as Kyle wandered off.

  He shot me grin and handed me a soda. “Of course.” He grabbed some magnets and put my picture up on the fridge, right next to some that Kyle had made when he was tiny. “There. It looks good on my fridge. And if anyone ever makes fun of it, you can always say that Kyle did it. No one is going to criticize the work of a six-year old.”

  Well, he did have a point there. I still stuck my tongue out at him.

  Chapter Three

  Lyssa

  I was surprised to see Dion awake when I got home. We shared an apartment, though he was hardly ever there, which made us great roommates. “Hey. You didn’t get in until late morning. I thought you’d still be sleeping,” I said as I put my things down.

  Dion was bleary eyed, unshaven, and clearly exhausted. “Neighbors had a fight, I could hear it through the walls and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I’m going to try again in a bit. I wish one of them would just leave already. Why do people insist on staying miserable in place?”

  I shrugged. I had no good answer for him, or any answer at all really. “How was work last night?”

  “Okay, f
or the most part. I’m getting burnt out, though. I know sixty-hour weeks aren’t supposed to kill me, but I don’t want my gravestone to say ‘Here lies Dion, he worked a lot at a nursing home at night for most of his adult life and died before thirty. He did nothing else because he had no time or energy for it.’”

  I came over and put my arm around his shoulders, and he laid his head against me. “I know, baby. You need a break.” He could afford one too, but the nursing home was so understaffed that he wouldn’t get one anytime soon.

  “I really, really do.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “How was the class? Should I have gone?”

  In his condition he would have fallen asleep. “It was good. You can go to the next one. A pretty woman sat down next to me. She’s a mom. Probably about my age. She likes donuts. I got her number.”

  “Ooooo.”

  I snorted. “It’s not like that. Maybe we’ll get coffee or something soon.”

  “Right...coffee is code for sex. I see how it is. You go get your lesbian thing on.”

  I highly doubted that would happen. “No, more like just a cup of coffee. She’s got a teenage son. I...well, I have no experience with kids but maybe she and I could be friends or something. I really need a female friend.”

  Dion snorted. “Yeah, you do. I mean, I can sort of help, but I’m never going to be feminine enough to fill that gap for you. But maybe this woman can. What’s her name?”

  “Cindy.” I didn’t tell him about the women who had stared at me, or those who had refused to sit next to me. He didn’t need to know about all that. He just needed to know I’d had fun out there.

  Dion got up and rubbed his face. “I’m going to try to head back to bed. See you later?”