Authors: Barrett
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
“I have nothing planned,” Kirin said. “Remember, I was just going to do some touring. Maybe you could show me your studio?”
Silke unlocked the front door and turned off the alarm. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I take this stuff upstairs, then I’ll make us something to drink.”
“Can I use your washroom?”
“Of course, it’s just off that hallway on the right.”
Silke threw her backpack on the bed then changed into shorts and a tank top that were more comfortable. She washed her hands, face, and quickly ran a brush through her hair. She smiled at her reflection, pleased that Kirin wanted to stay.
“I HAVE ICED tea, diet soda, and water. I can make coffee if you want it,” Silke called from the kitchen.
Kirin joined her and leaned against the island in the center of the kitch
en. “Iced tea sounds good. This is a great house. It’s much more spacious on the inside than it looks from outside. And I love the lathe-and-plaster walls
with the wood trim. That’s real craftsmanship. You don’t see it much any
more. It reminds me of home.”
“Would you like to stay in here or sit on the back porch?”
“Let’s sit outside for a while.” Kirin motioned Silke to proceed.
The porch was small and screened in. Silke set the glasses on the table then sat on the cushioned rattan couch. “If you look just to the right of the garage, the odd-shaped building across the alley is my studio.”
Kirin leaned over slightly, closing the distance between them. “That’s convenient. You’re right. It is rather oddly shaped for a garage.”
Silke resisted touching Kirin’s shoulder but relished the closeness. “The original owner was a mechanical engineer who tinkered with car engines. He needed a large work area with plenty of light, which makes it ideal for an artist. The landlord has been accommodating in adapting it for me.” She faced Kirin. They were less than two feet apart, and she could see Kirin’s gentle face much more clearly. Why hadn’t she ever noticed her dark brown eyes and thick lashes? They were penetrating and warm.
“Have you always been interested in art?” A simple question, but it felt like Kirin was asking much more, or maybe she hoped so.
“If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you that I started drawing in utero. That’s an exaggeration. I’m sure I waited at least until I was able to crawl.” Silke glanced from the intensity of the eye contact. “They actually took pictures of the inappropriate locations I decorated. I’m sure you can guess
the usual spots—my bedroom walls, doors, windows, sidewalks, and oc
casionally art paper.” She swiped the hair behind her ear. “To her credit, my mother recognized the creative spark and nurtured it. I’m grateful that she didn’t try to stifle what was really criminal damage to property.” She picked up her iced tea and watched as drops of condensation dripped on the hot skin of her bent knee.
Kirin wiped the drops with the palm of her hand, causing a tiny shudder up Silke’s leg.
“Do you want to see the studio now?” Silke took a large swallow and put the glass back on the table.
KIRIN FOLLOWED SILKE as she navigated her familiar path through the gate.
Silke removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the bay door. She pushed the door open and warm air rushed out from the confined space. “It’s pretty comfortable when the doors and windows are open.” She rolled up the door then opened a few windows including the transom below the skylight.
It was an amazing room, easily fifteen-by-twenty-five feet with a loft
over the back half. The industrial skylight angled over the north roof, di
rectly above a ten-foot workbench. The beams of sunlight were alive with dust motes. The old cement floor was in good shape and painted an industrial gray. The long insulated interior wall contained shelves that held a variety of paints and stains, racks of brushes, and bins containing all manner of hardware. A wooden scaffold beneath the loft was stacked with precut lumber and rough-cut logs.
Silke perched on one end of the workbench and watched Kirin take it all in.
“I have to admit I have never been in an art studio, especially one like this,” Kirin said. “It’s amazing. I thought when you described your early days as a budding artist, that you might have an easel and some paints, or dozens of sketch pads, or even one of those wheels where they make clay bowls.”
Silke’s laughed echoed lightly in the large space. “I see. Maybe you were thinking about Demi Moore in that scene with Patrick Swayze.”
“Now you’re laughing at me.” Kirin put on her best pout. “I had no clue. So . . . you work with wood?” She pointed at the lumber.
“I was teasing, I’m sorry. I actually do use those other supplies at the art school, but carving is more of a private passion—that’s what I sell. And why I was so interested in the carving when we were in Belize. By the way, I keep the beautiful gull you gave me in the den.”
Kirin sat near her in the drafting chair. “So the project you were com
missioned to do is some kind of wood sculpture?”
Silke picked up the rolled up drawing and spread it on the workbench. “This is what I’ll be working on starting next week. I’ve ordered the logs
and I’ll start by marking cuts for joining. Then I’ll trace where the decora
tive carving will be.”
The rendering was amazing. It had been drawn to scale with care
ful de
tailed measurements highlighted in a column on the right. The top of what looked like the lighthouse was ornate and included an antique-looking, six-sided light fixture. “It says this will be about ten feet tall. Isn’t that pretty big?”
“Since the client’s house is on the bluff, he wants to put this to the edge like a regular lighthouse, but it’s decorative and meant to light the patio area.” Silke leaned over the drawing, squinting and chewing her lower lip.
She looked adorable. At that moment, Kirin thought nothing could be nicer than spending the whole day with her.
Silke looked up at Kirin and smiled. “What are you grinning at?”
Kirin felt her neck flush with heat as though she had been caught peek
ing. “Nothing really. I just was thinking about how much I like hanging out with you and not having to worry about deadlines and responsibilities. You know, enjoying a quiet day.”
Silke nodded slowly. “I know. I was thinking the same thing. If you want to, we could walk over to the university, and I could show you a couple of pieces I donated. They also have a nice snack bar with some great gyros, if you’re hungry.”
Kirin spun around on the chair and stood. “You’re a genius. I was just thinking about lunch. That’s a great idea.” She reached out her hands to help Silke down from the workbench. Silke put her hands on Kirin’s shoulders as she jumped down.
Kirin left her hands on Silke’s waist and felt her pulse speed up until the only
thing in her mind was a voice screaming, “kiss her,” but she couldn’t move.
Silke stepped back and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll lock up and we can go.”
The campus was only a few blocks away and a pleasant walk on a sum
mer afternoon. Kirin was relieved Silke didn’t mention the awkward moment in the studio. What a colossal lapse of judgment that would’ve been. She wasn’t kidding herself. She had feelings for Silke—the kind feelings she couldn’t act on.
“Why don’t we go into the union and eat first then we can tour.” Silke pointed across the street to the large student union building.
Kirin vaguely remembered being there before but it was over twenty years ago. The campus had changed and the activity seemed less hectic during the summer.
Several students waved. “Hi, Ms. Dyson.”
The coffee shop was virtually empty since most of the students were outside. They bought sandwiches and enjoyed an unhurried lunch. Silke described her teaching duties before and after her accident. She sounded bitter about being restricted to the classroom, and Kirin couldn’t blame her, but understood the issue of liability.
As they exited the back door of the union, Silke pointed to a tall, ab
stract wooden sculpture in a grassy area near the arts building. It was striking and seemed perfect for a college campus.
“When I started working here that was one of my first projects. My faculty adviser begged me to consider donating it. At the time, I had no idea my work would ever be worth money and the suggestion flattered me.
I’m glad I did it. Whenever I have a bad day, I stop and look at it and re
member where I started. It took five more years before I actually received a gallery offer.”
They made a large loop through the campus as they talked about their own the silly college memories. It was late afternoon when they headed back past the chemistry building and the last couple of blocks to the house.
Kirin surprised herself when she began dreaming up excuses to stay longer. As they neared the house, she had an idea. “I don’t know if you’re interested, but I have the first draft of my article . . . and I’d be glad to have you read it, that is, unless you have stuff to do.”
Silke stopped as she reached the front walk. “I’d love to. I’m surprised it’s finished already.”
“It’s in the car on my laptop. I’ll get it.” Kirin went to her car, pulled the messenger bag from the back seat, and relocked the car. “I don’t usually share my first draft with anyone, but you might be able to help me, you know, in case I forgot something.” She smiled, proud that she had found a good excuse and happy she didn’t have to leave yet.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“DO YOU THINK it’s warm in here? I can turn the air conditioning up.” Silke closed the front door and the drapes on the front window, which faced west. Odd, it had felt perfectly comfortable when they had left. The exertion probably made her feel warmer.
Kirin set her laptop on the coffee table and booted up.
“I’ll be right back.” Silke ran upstairs and splashed water on her face.
She folded the towel and sat on the edge of the tub. She needed to try to understand what was going on inside her head. More accurately, what was going on inside her body? It had been an amazingly pleasant and enjoyable day but she found herself feeling nervous and fluttery—in a good way.
Kirin’s attentiveness and interest in her work awakened an almost ado
lescent delight. Damn, she felt like she actually had a crush on the woman.
That’s silly . . . or is it?
She had a hard time admitting how much her self-esteem had suffered by staying in a neglectful and emotionally abusive relationship. This was new for her, and she wanted Kirin to like her. A giggle bubbled up. When Kirin offered to read her article, she had been overjoyed both because she genuinely cared about the article and because she didn’t want the day to end.
She trotted back down stairs and curled up on the couch next to Kirin. “All set. Read me your story please.”
“ . . . In this small Central American country accustomed to tropical
storms, this was by no means the biggest or the most damaging. Neverthe
less, everything stopped along the East Coast of Belize when the storm struck. The flooding paralyzed all modes of transportation, which are essential to a country dependent on tourism . . .”
Silke closed her eyes and visualized the story as it unfolded. Kirin’s voice was easy to listen to, and she read slowly enough to allow the words to take hold. She was able to follow along and remembered Kirin’s travel
anecdotes. Hearing the vivid descriptions strengthened her resolve to re
turn to Belize as soon as she finished her commissioned project. The happiness she experienced while there was as effective as a mood-altering
drug. Thoughts of Nekoomis, the wonderful healer, interrupted her rev
erie. She remembered the words, “Light can flow to the dark places and make them better.” Listening to Kirin reading her story about Belize allowed her to feel that light.
“The end.” Kirin closed the computer.
Silke smiled. “That was breathtaking. Your words transported me there instantly.”
Kirin leaned back. “I thought maybe I’d put you to sleep. You really liked it?”
“Oh my gosh. The picture you painted of the damage was like a news
reel. And the interviews—those poor souls—were so eloquent. I feel terrible, because I never realized that Flora’s family had been so devastated. She’s always so cheerful. I had no idea. She never told me about her family.”
Kirin grinned widely. “Whew. I’m really glad you liked it. I was ner
vous because I don’t normally write this kind of material. Usually, I’m scrambling for new superlatives to describe the latest and greatest.” She
turned to Silke. “This was a real learning experience for me on a lot of dif
ferent levels. I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve been kind of spoiled and never had to deal with deprivation. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I had a lot of money, but I’ve always had enough for everything I needed. Most of the people I interviewed along the coast started with virtually nothing except maybe a roof over their heads—and then that was gone.”
“You’d never know it,” Silke said. “In all the years I’ve been going there and the dozens of people I’ve met, they never complain. They’re a proud and optimistic people.”
“Honestly, it inspired me to go back there and learn more about the country and its history. Before I do, I’m going to read up on the Mayan people. Sometimes I feel like we’re too sheltered here.”
“I’ve always thought the reason I was attracted to the area was because it was a simpler way of life. Now I’m not so sure. It’s a different way of
life that’s complex in other aspects. They don’t seem to have the same at
tachment to material things that we do.”
“You’re right, and that’s probably the reason they can ride out the storms the way they do. They don’t accumulate the amount of stuff we do
and by comparison, they don’t experience the intense loss. You remem
ber the devastation caused by Katrina. It’s been years, and they’re
still struggling to rebuild. The people in Belize suffer tropical storms regu
larly. There’s no point in holding onto stuff. Maybe that’s the lesson.” Kirin folded her hands behind her head and twisted her neck.
“I’m glad we had a chance to experience that storm together. I’ll al
ways remember it, and now you’ve written this wonderful article. I hope you’ll send me a copy.”
“Of course I will. If it was a book, I would dedicate it to you.”
Silke had no response, but was flattered.
Kirin sat up. “I feel like I’ve taken up your whole day. I should prob
ably get going.”
“You know, I was going to make a salad for supper . . . I’d love to have you stay. That way I’d have somebody to help me chop vegetables.”
Where did those words come from?
“That sounds good. I can’t believe I’m hungry again. Seems like all we’ve done today is eat.” Kirin’s laugh sounded nervous.
Silke laughed. “Well, remember, we started the adventure at o’dark thirty and have been going nonstop. I’ve enjoyed it. You’re wonderful company.” She stood. Enjoying Kirin’s company didn’t begin to express her feelings. “Come out to the kitchen and let’s see what we can throw together.”
Kirin happily accepted the task of slicing up tomatoes, celery, radishes, and green peppers. Silke filled the electric egg cooker and carved some baked ham. The finished joint production was a beautiful summer meal
they enjoyed on the back porch, accompanied only by fireflies and crick
ets.
It was dark when they returned to the kitchen with empty dishes that Silke insisted on doing.
“It doesn’t seem right to leave you to clean up the kitchen especially when I enjoyed such a great meal.” Kirin patted her belly.
“I’m grateful you were willing to change your plans for me and leave so early this morning,” Silke said. “This day has just been glorious. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”
Kirin stowed her computer in her messenger bag, and they stood
awkwardly on the front stoop. “It was a good day for me. I really appre
ciate your feedback on my article. There are still a few things I want to tweak, and I’ll show it to my beta reader before I send it to the editor.” She shifted from one foot to the other but made no move to leave.
Silke took the invitation and put her arms around Kirin’s shoulders. “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend,” she whispered.
Kirin responded by pulling her close and holding her tightly. The heat from their bodies and the summer night enfolded them. Their faces brushed, and Silke felt warm breath against her ear. She held her breath, savoring the moment. A growing tenderness blossomed inside, and she inhaled the special scent that was only Kirin’s.
“I’m not sure I can never tell you how much you’ve touched my life,” Kirin said barely above a whisper. “Everything in me—”
Silke held the back of Kirin’s head. “Tell me?”
Kirin simply shook her head. She stepped back and stroked Silke’s cheek lightly. “I’d better leave, but I’d like to get together again.”
Silke deflated a little as Kirin stepped away, leaving a cold space be
tween them. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine. It’s just you have a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to complicate it. Thank you for everything today. Really, it was one of the best days I’ve ever had.”
“Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Silke said as she watched Kirin jog to her car. Conflicting feelings warred within her disappointment at Kirin’s departure and the pleasant tingling sensation at the closeness.
The ominous cloud of Rachel’s return and the tasks awaiting her cre
ated a suffocating heaviness.
When Kirin’s car turned the corner and disappeared from view, Silke turned, went inside, then locked the front door. She busied herself with the dishes, hoping to chase away the shadows.
The phone rang a few minutes later. She dropped the dish towel as she grabbed it, hoping . . . “Hello”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon, but I have to fly out early Tuesday. I wondered if you’d have time to press a couple of shirts for me.”
It was Rachel.
The sound of her voice brought an avalanche of disappointment and dread cascading over her. “Sure.”
KIRIN TURNED SOUTH on Lake Drive and opened all the windows to clear her head. It had been a narrow escape. The initial friendly feelings that pulled them closer had simmered. But the growing physical closeness was dangerous. Silke was by nature a touchy-feely kind of person, which was lovely, but it threatened Kirin’s self-control. She needed to create some boundaries quickly or fall prey to the physical desire. Each time her conscience nudged her to leave and go home, she had ignored it. The grace of God must have intervened, because she knew in her heart of hearts, that if Silke had asked her to stay, she would not have refused.
She groaned loudly because of the physical ache. One thing she knew for certain, Silke was deeply enmeshed in a very complicated relationship with the potential for serious fallout. Silke needed a clear mind to make decisions, and Kirin’s self-respect demanded better of her.
Meanwhile, she had two projects to complete before Esther appeared with a new assignment. She parked at the rear of her condo and dragged her bags into the front hall. It was still early, but she knew she didn’t have the energy to unpack. Instead, she checked her phone for messages.
The first was from Esther. “I hope everything went well in Sturgeon Bay. Give me a call when you get back. I have some good news. Take care.”
The second was from Melissa. “Sorry I blew you off Saturday night, but what an incredible weekend! Can’t wait to tell you about it. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Steffi has to work Tuesday, so I guess we’ll be back sometime Monday. I think I’m in love.” Her squealing giggly voice made Kirin laugh.
“Good luck, Steffi.” Kirin shook her head and sorted through the pile of mail she picked up off the floor then tossed it on the kitchen counter. All she could focus on was a cool shower and a soft bed.
Chapter-Twenty-nine
“
HI, HONEY, IT’S Mom. I got your message, and I’m free on Wednes
day. I’ll be more than happy to go with you to the eye doctor then take you to lunch. Give me a call to let me know what time.”
Silke hung up the last shirt and turned off the iron, glad to have Ra
chel’s task complete. She’d been up since six-thirty, cleaning the kitchen and finishing the ironing. She wanted to be working in the studio as early as possible. She loaded the small yard cart with some linens, a clock radio, and a small cooler filled with two ham sandwiches, juices, and water. She
checked her phone one more time before sticking it in her pocket. No mes
sages from Kirin.
The studio felt comfortable but stuffy. She decided to open a window and the transom to get the air moving. She wanted to be sure she had the pulleys and calipers ready to set the logs on the sawhorses she and Roger had specially designed before her wood order arrived. She looked around from the center of the studio floor. They needed to accommodate four-foot sections approximately twenty-four inches in diameter.
The first day of a project excited her. The visualization of the design on a blank section of wood was magical. Good thing Roger would be around for a
few more weeks before he left for Florida. He had a unique ability to visualize Silke’s idea when she described it. He was psychic-like in his ability to sense the exact carving tools she needed, almost like a surgical assistant. It saved her a lot of time. She rubbed her hands together and grabbed the linens
.
She tucked the clean sheets under the mattress then pushed it against the wall. The small loft looked cozier with the furniture. One window provided good light during the daytime, and the small table lamp would be sufficient at night. She plugged in the clock radio, reset the time, and tuned in to the classical station. She sat on the foot of the bed and looked around. How many nights would she be sleeping out here? It didn’t matter there was no phone and a good lock on the door.
She carefully walked down the narrow staircase and unlocked the large cabinet next to the workbench that held her expensive carving tools. The last carving project had been weeks before, and she couldn’t remember if she’d re-sharpened her chisels. She carefully wrapped her smaller chisels in a leather roll up carrier—a gift from her father when she graduated. She treasured them.
As a child, he taught her to whittle small objects when they were on va
cation. In high school, he showed her how to use carving tools—a unique bond they had shared for many years.
Her cell phone interrupted. It was Phillip. “Hello.”
“Is this a good time to talk?”
“Yes, I’m out the studio waiting for a delivery.”
“I finished reviewing a contract and the latest numbers from the bank. I’ll be glad to meet with you guys whenever Rachel is ready. I think we
have a couple of viable options. If Rachel buys you out at the current ap
praised rate, she’d have to refinance to give you one-hundred-forty-thousand dollars. Or, you both agree to sell it. The house goes for two-hundred-and-eighty grand, minus a hundred-and-twenty thousand for the
mortgage and home equity loan, leaves you one-hundred-and-sixty thou
sand dollars to split. I’m guessing that’s what she’ll want to do. Now, she’ll also have to throw in whatever’s left of the home equity loan she got or we deduct it.”
Silke shook her head. “I’m having a hard time keeping these numbers straight in my head.”
“I know, sis, but I want you to know what’s possible. I have another idea I’d like to run past you, but you don’t have to decide today.”
She leaned forward on the workbench, holding her head. Math hurt her head, especially when she couldn’t see what he was describing. “Okay. Explain it slowly.”
“I had an idea and I talked it over with Barb. She likes it. Rachel can sign a quitclaim deed. I refinance the house and pay her off. I’ll hold the title, and you can rent it for less than you are paying for the mortgage. If you decide you want it, I can give it to you on a land contract. I know that’s a lot to think about, so don’t worry. The important thing is we have options.”
Gyroscope brain, she moaned but liked his ideas and felt as though she would have a level playing field if it got ugly with Rachel. “Thanks a lot, Phillip. I’m glad I have you and your left brain in my corner. Rachel will be home a little later, and I’ll ask her when we can set up a meeting. I’ll let you know.”
The sound of a horn honking startled her.
“Delivery for Dyson.”
Silke rolled up the bay door. “I’m Silke Dyson. All set. You can bring them in here.” She pointed to the sawhorses.
They brought the logs in and put them on the sawhorses. Silke checked them to be sure there was no damage and signed the invoice.
The smell of the wood filled the air and lifted her spirits. She ran her
hands over the surface of both sections of wood, noting defects and irregu
larities. Her friend did a good job. He had called several times to discuss options and convinced her that for the project she was working on, he had the perfect piece but it was ash and not cedar. She had agreed.
“These are magnificent pieces.”
The next two hours went by quickly as she used a drawknife and a rasp to smooth irregularities. Her muscles burned, and a sheen of sweat covered her arms and shoulders. It felt good to be working physically. She had missed this.
“I guess you didn’t hear the phone.”
Silke jerked around at the sound of Rachel’s voice. “No. I guess I didn’t.”
Rachel stepped closer then stopped and laughed. “I was going to give you a hug but . . . maybe I’ll wait until after you shower. Looks like you’re jumping into your new project. Good thing I’ll be out of town all week, huh?”
Silke brought her breathing under control and tightened her grip on the rasp. “This will keep me busy. When do you have to leave?”
“Early tomorrow morning. I’m exhausted. What a weekend. I thought we could just grab a pizza, if that’s okay with you, then I can turn in early.” Rachel brushed sawdust off her pant leg.
“Great idea. I could keep working until it’s delivered.”
Rachel walked to the workbench and looked at the drawings. “I can do that. I just thought you might want to get out of the studio for a while.”
“Normally I would, but I just started on this. Besides . . . you want to go to bed early.” Rachel’s casual indifference irritated her.
Screw it. She wasn’t going to waste her time showering, dressing, and wasting time in a restaurant only to listen to Rachel talk about herself and her busy schedule. If they stayed at home, it would give her time to deliver a short statement and then retreat to her studio.
“This looks interesting. Kind of a big project for you, isn’t it?” Her tone was dismissive as usual.
Silke shrugged. “I can manage.”
“Okay. I’ll call when the pizza gets here. Be careful, hon,” Rachel said over her shoulder on the way out.
If the drawknife at her feet hadn’t been so expensive, she might have
kicked it. Instead, she went to her cooler and pulled out a water bottle. An
ger roiled around inside her. Rachel never missed a chance to diminish her in some way, but to infer she had to be careful because of a disability that was not an accident, but passive-aggressive bullshit. She capped the bottle and tossed it back in the cooler. The most therapeutic thing she could think to do was use her electric saw.
From the stacked wood at the rear of the studio, she selected an eight-foot section of one-by-two-inch wood and took it to her workbench. She re
viewed the drawing and measured six-inch segments. After uncovering her miter saw, she methodically cut the marked sections then removed the safety glasses and smiled. A cloud of sawdust floated in the sunlight and filled the room with the scent of freshly cut wood.
The narrowest section of the log would be the top half of the lighthouse. She measured the diameter to determine the circumference of the widow’s walk then returned to the drawing board. She put down her pencil and looked up through the skylight as the low-angled sunlight filtered through the trees. Tonight was the night. She was going to tell Rachel it was over.
The last twenty-four hours had shown her she was stuck and the
direction she wanted to go. She’d been a victim for too long and she want
ed control back.
I’m taking a break from editing all morning. Wondered what you’re doing?
Silke smiled and typed.
I’ve been in the studio all day, thinking and working. As soon as I break for dinner, I’m telling her that I’m done with this. Wish me luck.
She waited impatiently for the reply.
Good for you! You’re an amazing woman and you deserve to be happy. Call if you need anything.
Her pulse quickened as she reread the message twice.
I will thanks.
Yes, she could do this.
KIRIN STARED AT the display and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t envy Silke the task ahead. Even after such a short amount of time, she thought
she understood Silke fairly well. Her rock and hard place would be diffi
cult to navigate, but in spite of her handicap, Silke was strong and incredibly self-sufficient.
Much more than I am.She carried her glass out to the kitchen to refill it. She tried to think of some excuse that would take her to the north side of Milwaukee but couldn’t. She’d have to wait for an invitation. After meeting Rachel over the weekend, she knew that any interest she showed would complicate things for Silke.
“Stay safe my friend.”
Chapter Thirty
SILKE DRIED HER hair, hung up the towel, then pulled on clean clothes. One final look in the mirror, and she was ready.
Rachel had set the kitchen table with plates, napkins, two bottles of beer, and the pizza. “Doesn’t this smell good?” She pointed. “I can’t even remember the last time we had pizza.”
“It does smell good. Pepperoni?” Silke sat down and unfolded her nap
kin, praying for the strength to sit through this dinner.
Rachel sat and opened the box. “I just ordered the special. Here.” She scooped up one piece with a spatula and slid it onto Silke’s plate then did the same for herself.
They ate in silence for several minutes.
Silke took a swallow of beer. “Where will you be this week?”
“I have a training session for some new sales people in Minneapolis. Why, do you need me for something?”
“No, I have an appointment at the Medical College on Wednesday, but Mom’s going to drive me. I wanted to set up a time that we could meet with Phillip.” Silke’s voice quivered slightly.
Rachel looked up from her plate with a puzzled expression. She hesi
tated. “Why do we want to meet with Phillip?”
Silke took a deep breath. “I’d like to discuss our Tenants In Common agreement.”
Rachel took a swallow of beer then narrowed her eyes. Her expression changed from curiosity to suspicion. “Why would you want to discuss that?”
“Because this isn’t working. You’re not happy and neither am I,” Silke said. “So, I don’t see any need to continue the charade. You’re never here, and I don’t need this house. I’d rather use the time working than doing chores.”
“I see.” Rachel stood up, walked to the sink, then opened the refrigera
tor and grabbed another beer. Her hands shook. “What’s going on? Have you suddenly found someone else?”
Silke sighed. “No, there isn’t anyone else. But there just isn’t any
us
. We’re both walking around on eggshells and I’m tired. I don’t know when you stopped loving me, but I stopped the day I could no longer trust you.”
She wheeled around. “Dammit. I’ve done everything humanly possible to try to earn back your trust. I don’t know what more I could possibly do.”
“Rachel, you have done everything possible to
make amends
for nearly killing me. So I guess, the question really is, what could I have possibly done to make you hate me enough that you tried to kill me?” Her voice felt tight and anger clogged her throat. She gripped the edges of the table as though the action would help her.
“We were both angry. It was a ridiculous argument, and I lost my tem
per. I feel like I’ve been apologizing for one careless accident every day since. Every time I look at you, I feel guilty. You are a constant reminder that I screwed up.”
The comment stung, tearing open a deep wound. “Exactly. That’s what I’m talking about. We don’t love each other—we tolerate each other. You spend more time out of town than you spend here. And now I understand
why. You feel guilty. That’s not a basis for a relationship, even a friend
ship.”
“And you just now decided to bring this up, the night before I leave town?”
“Yes. I want you to have time to think about what you want to do. If you can just be honest with yourself, you’ll agree that you don’t want to be in this relationship any more than I do. So why drag it on needlessly? I suggest we both act like adults for a change and go our separate ways.” Silke gripped the nearly empty beer bottle.
“You have this all figured out, don’t you?” Rachel sneered. “How long have you been planning this?”
Silke finished her beer and slammed the bottle down on the table. “For God’s sake, Rachel, don’t try to put this on me. I tried, repeatedly. The only reason I went with you last weekend was to keep the damn peace. I have no clue why you invited me, because you clearly had a fine time without me.” Adrenaline surged through her muscles, empowering her.
“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”
“Please. You were having the time of your life, a real social butterfly. When I asked you to take me home, you know what? You were actually surprised. You had no idea why I was unhappy. Why? Because you paid no attention to me the whole time.”
“You’re an adult and can entertain yourself. You don’t need me to hold your hand.” Rachel turned on the water and rinsed her hands.
“You’re right. I don’t. So think about what you want to keep, and when you get back, we will divide things up.” Silke walked to the back door and opened it. “Thanks for the pizza.”
“I’m not finished . . .”
Oh yes you are
. Silke continued straight out the gate to her studio—on rubbery legs.
The neighborhood was exceptionally quiet as she unlocked the door. A wave of regret washed over her, and she hoped losing her temper didn’t
mean acting spiteful and vindictive. She glanced over her shoulder ner
vously. This kind of disagreement would normally set off Rachel’s rage. There was nothing to do now she had played her hand.
Humid air surrounded her, and the sweet smell of wood filled her sens
es. Refracted moonlight through the large glass panes above her cast an eerie glow on the two large sections of wood. She stood between them with
a hand on each. The glowing energy emanating from the wood ground
ed her. Beneath her fingers, the smooth surface felt warm. She suddenly thought of Nekoomis and the heat that she had felt from her touch.
It will be all right.
She turned on a small light over the workbench and sorted through the preliminary sketches until she found the one for the mortise and tenon joint she planned. Working would ground her and fill the gaping wound caused by her uncertainty. She’d start on the joint first thing in the morning.
Just looking at the design made her smile. Ironic that at this phase of her project, she was building a connection—a sturdy, solid connection.
She sketched until her vision blurred. It was almost nine-thirty, and she breathed a sigh of relief that Rachel should be asleep. Thankfully. She rubbed her eyes and wondered if it was too late to call Kirin. After all she had promised. She decided to send a text.
While she waited for a reply, she put away the drawings, locked the door, and made her way carefully up the stairs to the loft. There was enough light to find the small lamp and turn it on. The bed felt comfortable as she sat on the side. Even with the window open, the room was uncomfortably warm. She remembered the box fan in the basement. Tomorrow she’d bring it over.
The phone vibrated. She saw Kirin’s name and answered. “Hi, there. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I was in the shower. I just finished editing the Sturgeon Bay piece. I was thinking about you and hoped you’d call. How did it go?”
“Okay, I think. I told her. Now I’ll just wait and see. The ball’s in her court.”
“Really? Good for you. It must have been hard.”
Silke lay on the bed and kicked off her shoes. “You know, it went bet
ter than I thought it would. I think I took her by surprise, and she may not have had time to react. I’ve been in the studio all night, waiting for her to come screaming through the door. But she has to leave early tomorrow morning so I hope she’s in bed.”
“A surprise attack, I like it. I guess I’m surprised at your equanimity, although I shouldn’t be. I’ve seen how well you do under pressure—like hurricane pressure.”
Silke laughed, remembering the adventures at the airport. “Oh yeah, I was a real rock.”
“You were for me.”
Silke sat up. Kirin sounded serious. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you to say.”
“I mean it . . . I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there,” Kirin said. “I hate being in those situations where I have no control. Fortunately, it doesn’t happen often.”
It touched her heart at how much courage it took for someone as fierce
ly independent as Kirin Foster to make that statement. A flush blossomed in her chest and spread to her neck. For the past eight months, tenderness had been missing from her life. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“I’d really like that. Goodnight, Kirin.”
“Sleep well.”
She stripped off her clothes and shut out the light. The sudden breeze blew across her damp skin raising goose bumps. She stretched out on her back and smiled. “I will now.”
Chapter Thirty-one
“C’MON IN.” KIRIN closed the door behind Melissa who was jug
gling a large paper bag and a cardboard carrier with two large coffee cups.
She’d been working since dawn, selecting pictures from the parade. And smiled at the inordinate number of pictures she took of Silke. Her red Badger tee shirt complemented her pink complexion and strawberry-blond hair.
“I hope you like the croissant sandwich. I forgot to ask if you wanted bacon or sausage.” Melissa spread the food packages on the counter and opened the cupboard for sugar. One of the advantages of inviting an ex for breakfast, she knew where everything was.
“I appreciate you’re doing this. I have a deadline and didn’t really have time to meet you anywhere. So tell me . . .”
“Tell you what?” Melissa said with a mouthful.
“Everything. I want to know all the sordid details of your weekend.
Leave nothing to my imagination.” Truthfully, she enjoyed Melissa’s the
atrical presentations.
Melissa blew on her coffee then took a sip. “Girl, I am here to tell you that I have met my match. Steffi is an animal.” She giggled. “But I mean that in the best sense of the word. We had a great time Saturday at the party, and even though there wasn’t much privacy, we snuck off as many times as we could. I don’t think I slept for two days. But that’s not the best part. She begged me—on her knees—begged me to come home with her.” She sighed then took another bite. “And that woman has some serious toys. Holy mother of God. If you ever fantasized about it, we probably did it.”
Kirin struggled to contain herself as she thought about the heady days when she and Melissa first got together. But as she remembered it, their antics paled in comparison to this.
“She has a really nice house on the west side, actually kind of fancy. It’s an older two-story house. There’s a gigantic family room downstairs that’s, well . . . self-contained, shall we say. It’s awesome.”
“So . . . did you learn anything or was it just same old, same old?”
Melissa punched her in the shoulder. “Are you effing kidding me? I
was a naked little concubine for almost three glorious days. The only rea
son I decided to leave was to get some sleep.”
Kirin couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She covered her mouth but couldn’t stop laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day, no disrespect intended and you’ll forgive the cliché, but you really do look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”
Melissa spewed coffee across the counter and nodded. “You ain’t kid
ding!” She grabbed the napkins and wiped up the coffee. “But there’s something else.” She looked up and her expression was serious. “I really like her. I know she’s older, but she’s really smart and one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.” She stopped fidgeting. “No one has ever treated me as lovingly as Steffi does.”
In all the time they’d been together, Kirin had never seen this side of Me
lissa. Something had happened. She touched Melissa’s hand. “Then I’m glad for you, she sounds wonderful.”
“She’s asked me to move in with her, but told me to take a few days and think about it first. She wants me to be sure. What do you think?”
“I agree with Steffi. You need to take some time and be sure. Remem
ber, the heart wants what the heart wants.”
Melissa hugged her tightly. “I love you and I hope we will always be friends.”
“I’m sure we will. I suppose this means no more
benefits
, right?” Kirin raised an eyebrow.
“’Fraid so.”
“THE PLACE LOOKS good, you made it real homey.” Silke’s crusty landlord hobbled down the stairs. “But it’s mighty warm up there.” He
scratched the stubble on his chin. “I think one of those big old attic ex
haust fans would do wonders to keep the air moving in here. I’ll see what I can do.” He slowly nodded. “I’ve got a buddy who goes to all those flea markets, never comes home empty handed.” He chuckled. “His wife is about to kill him, but it seems to me he mentioned picking up a couple of big fans.” He turned around and nodded. “I’ll give him a call. But you be careful not to overload the circuits, okay?”
“I sure will and I really appreciate your help.” Silke smiled as he limped through the bay door.
The morning was lost by measuring, calculating, measuring again, then cutting the joint. There could be no mistakes on a project this big. Those logs were too expensive.
She unwrapped her ham sandwich, and the phone rang.
“Hi, are you in the middle of something?” Kirin sounded chipper.
“This is a good time. I just sat down to eat. I hoped you might call.” In fact her whole body felt glad.
“Excellent. How was your morning?”
“I made good progress. I finished the preliminary cuts for the mortise and tenon joint. I’ll need to use smaller tools for a perfect fit. But, I don’t want to do that until we see how the pipe fits. What have you been doing?” She opened a can of soda and put her feet on the workbench.
“I have the pictures and the article ready to send to Esther. I just need to print it and read it through one more time,” Kirin said. “Oh, I have some news. I should say gossip. Melissa came by to give me a blow by blow description of her weekend of sin.”
She smiled. “You weren’t kidding. I guess she enjoyed the weekend more than we did.”
“I’m not so sure,” Kirin said. “I had a great time and I slept more than she did.”
They laughed.
“Seriously, it turns out Melissa and Steffi are actually compatible and
while they had a rollicking good time playing, Steffi became rather smit
ten.”
“I don’t know Steffi real well,” Silke said. “I think she’s worked at Harley for a number of years, some kind of financial guru. She worked at the plant right out of high school then enlisted in the army. When she got out, she went for an accounting degree and Harley hired her back. I think beneath the bluster, she’s a real warm person.”
“Good to know because I’ve never seen Melissa so infatuated. As long as I’ve known her, she’s always been about the physical attraction. Her
self-esteem comes from her gorgeous body. I never understood what at
tracted her to me. I’m a lot older and frumpier.”
“Now that’s ridiculous. I think you’re very attractive.”
“Don’t forget the, for a woman your age.”
Silke laughed. “I guess I would if you were eighty years old. I have no idea how old you are.”
“Let’s just say, I’m gliding gracefully past the halfway point. I’m forty-
four.”
“Ah, a younger woman. I should’ve guessed when you talked about school.” The conversation reminded her of the embrace on the front porch. Kirin was only a few inches taller, but she liked the way they fit together.
“Well, I don’t feel all that young,” Kirin said. “I’m beginning to sus
pect that too many hours in planes, trains, and terminals are taking a toll on my body. Jet lag has become a permanent condition along with back and leg pains. I was glad the last trip was by car and only a couple of hours. Plus, I had superb company.”
“Well, aren’t you sweet? I enjoyed the drive myself.”
Kirin didn’t respond right away. “I know you have a lot to do but . . . I’d like to see you. Do you think we could have dinner or coffee?”
Silke felt herself blush. “Yes, that’s a great idea. I’ll just be out here working. You could . . . um, probably come over any time.”
“Great. As soon as I send off the parade article, I’ll change and come over. Can I bring you anything?”
Silke’s imagination kicked into gear, but she restrained herself. “Not really, unless you have an extra fan lying around, it’s pretty warm.”
Kirin giggled. “I’ll check. See you later.”
Silke gathered her trash and tossed it in the garbage can. She started upstairs and tripped over a box on the first step. She plowed into the steps chin first and rolled off onto the floor with a thud. “Shit!”
She cursed herself for not remembering the box she had set on the second step a half hour earlier. She wiped her chin, surprised by the blood. Her lip was already swelling. She looked down and noticed scrapes on both knees.
“Damn it, I knew this would happen. That’s what you get for day
dreaming you damn dope.”
The steps were narrow and steep with only a partial handrail. She
limped up to the makeshift bathroom and filled the basin with water. For
tunately, she had brought paper towels and was able to wash the dirt from wounds. The scrapes on her knees would heal fine, but the one on her chin and the cut on her lip hurt like hell. Rather than go back downstairs for ice, she made compresses and lay on her bed.
The hum of the distant lawnmower and the intermittent breeze through the window lulled her into semi-sleep. Her barely accessible daydream found her drifting with Kirin. The fleeting images of talking, laughing, and drinking wine moved between idyllic and comic. The pleasure genuine.
Chapter Thirty-two
KIRIN HIT SAVE, typed a quick note to Esther, and then hit send. After a fist pump, she carefully slid the paper copy into a file folder and closed the drawer. It was a good article, and she was proud of it. She hoped to smooth a few feathers with Esther. Her petulant behavior because of the
assignment snafu in Belize had not been her finest moment. Under pres
sure, she understood that she was difficult at best, at the worst, a bitch.
Best-case scenario: her editor and publisher would be so pleased with two back-to-back assignments, they might find a better way to showcase her article on the aftermath of the storm. She’d send that off at the end of the week so they’d have time over the weekend to think about it.
Her closet held no surprises, so she pulled out a bright orange polo shirt
to complement her navy blue shorts. It looked good with her dark hair. Af
ter her shower, she applied a new body lotion that smelled wonderful. Her hair looked a little long, but she liked the way it curled behind her
ears. Adolescent anxiety trickled through her nervous system. She reluc
tantly admitted that she was preening to impress Silke.
“Dork.”
There was no place to park in the alley near the studio, so Kirin drove around to the front of the house and parked. She walked back to the studio. The bay door was open, but no one was around. She set down the box she was carrying.
“Anybody home?”
She heard stirring and mumbling coming from the balcony.
“I’m up here. I’ll be right down.” Silke’s voice sounded sleepy.
“No problem, take your time.” Kirin walked around the two large pieces in the center of the room. It amazed her to think of how big this project would be once it was completed. She bent over to inspect the joint that Silke had described to her. It made sense with the two pieces next to each other. Still, it was mind-boggling to see what Silke had already accomplished.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” Silke said.
Kirin looked up.
Silke hobbled down the steps. Something looked wrong. She reached the bottom of the stairs.
“My God, what happened?” Kirin rushed to her and realized her hands trembled. “Did she hit you?”
Silke smiled and put her hand out. “No. I fell, but I’m okay. It looks worse than it is.” She sat in the drafting chair.
Both of Silke’s knees were swollen and badly scraped. Her chin and lower lip swelled even more with a split lip.
Kirin stroked Silke’s face as a wave of sadness surged. “I’m sorry. It looks so sore. Do you need some ice?”
“Actually, I do. I was too lazy to come back downstairs.” Silke touched her swollen lip. “I wanted to lie down to stop the bleeding and just nodded off. There’s ice in the cooler over there . . .” She pointed to the end of her workbench.
Kirin scooped up the few remaining cubes with a cup. “Do you have a plastic bag here?”
“There should be one in the cooler with some grapes.” Silke pointed.
Kirin handed her the bag and dragged a stool over.
“Thanks, that feels good. What’s in the box?”
“Almost forgot. This is a delightful 2007 Pinot Noir, and
this
is a Dy
son.” Kirin held a wine bottle in one hand and a fan in the other.
“I certainly recognize the wine, but I’m not certain what the other ob
ject is.”
Kirin looked around the workbench until she spotted an outlet. She plugged in the fan and turned it on, sending a stream of cool air at Silke. “Voila.”
Silke closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s heavenly. I’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s so quiet. You didn’t need to do that, although it’s terrific.”
“My folks bought it for me a couple of years ago, but my condo is air conditioned and I never use it. After spending some time in here the other day . . . I figured you could.”
Silke laughed. “My landlord thought the same thing. He’s on a mission to find an attic exhaust fan. Between the two of you, I might survive the heat.”
“What’s going on? Can’t you stay in the house?” Kirin asked.
Silke readjusted the ice bag. “I thought I might need a safe house, just in case. So I brought some of my stuff out here. After the discussion last night, I felt better staying here. While Rachel’s out of town, I’ll go sleep in the house. I’m probably being silly but, since I can’t drive, I need to know that I have a safe place to go.”
Kirin felt like a fist tightened in her gut. She took a hold of Silke’s hand. “It hurts me that you have to be afraid. You’re welcome to stay in my place anytime you need. I’ll even come get you. Of course, I never know when I’ll be gone, but for the near future, I don’t have anything booked.”
Silke wiped a tear from her cheek. “You have been so wonderful, and I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel, but this isn’t your problem,
and I have to take care of myself. I hope that Rachel will make the logi
cal choice and call it quits. I don’t want to fight with her anymore—about anything. Whatever she wants she can have. I’m putting everything in Phillip’s hands.”
“I understand. I’d probably feel the same way,” Kirin said. “Remem
ber, you don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want.”
“Thank you,” Silke said. “What I’d really like right now is to go up to the house and have some of that wine and maybe a couple of ibuprofen. Would you help me lock up?”
AT LEAST RACHEL had the courtesy to leave the air conditioner run
ning. Silke left Kirin in the kitchen with the wine and limped upstairs for the pills and some antibiotic ointment.
She looked in the mirror and gasped then laughed.
It’s a wonder Kirin didn’t run out of the studio screaming.
She looked like she had been in a prizefight. Along with the bloody lip and swollen chin, she also sported
a bruise in the center of her forehead. She might have been more embar
rassed earlier if she’d known how bad she looked.
She applied a glop of ointment on each knee then covered them with gigantic Band-Aids. She smeared more ointment on her face and shook her head.
There goes any chance of going out to dinner. Oh well.
She limped back downstairs. Kirin had opened the wine and cut up some cheese.
“Do you have any crackers?” Kirin asked.
Silke pointed to the cupboard above the refrigerator. “This looks ap
petizing. I got a good look in the mirror and realized I wasn’t going out anywhere tonight or probably all week. I commend you for not screaming when you saw me.”
Kirin put a handful of crackers on the plate with the cheese. “The only thing that scared me was what caused your injuries. Heck, I’ll take you to any drive-thru in town.”
Silke couldn’t contain the laughter. She felt her lip split. “See what you’ve done?” she asked, still laughing.
“We can still have dinner, if you want to go out. Or if you want me to go pick something up I will. Up to you.”
Silke carefully sipped the wine. “This is really good. Is it a favorite of yours?”
Kirin took a swallow and nodded. “Actually, it’s a favorite of Clif
ford’s.”
Silke tipped her head and wondered if Kirin had ever mentioned Clif
ford.
“The owner of the liquor store.”
“You’re on a first name basis with a guy at the liquor store?”
“Pretty much. I have no taste and depend on him for everything—well, everything related to liquor. I have the same dependency on George the CPA, Rodrigo the mechanic, and Cynthia the pharmacist. I have people.”
Silke grabbed a napkin to cover her mouth and regretted taking a bite of cheese. She coughed. “I have to remember not to eat when I’m around you. It’s dangerous.”
“I’m sorry. That was kind of mean. I was trying to make you smile. Let’s talk about whatever you want.”
“I guess you saw what I got done today,” Silke said. “I’m happy with it so far. I’ll need to wait for Roger’s help to make sure the joint fits snugly. But if all the pieces fit, I can start the carving, and that’s the part I really enjoy.”
“Do you always tackle such huge projects?” Kirin reached behind, grabbed the plate of cheese, and sliced more.
“I prefer the big projects but haven’t done one since I lost so much of my vision from the incident. But right now, I can’t afford to give up a hefty commission. And I do enjoy a challenge. Figuring this out was almost as
much fun as the execution will be. But I’m itching to get back to my draw
ings from Belize, and of course, keeping my fingers crossed for the grant.”
“Yeah that’d be nice. Have you made long range plans yet?” Kirin poured them both more wine.
“Sadly no. I’ve been living one day at a time for so long that I’m almost afraid to make plans. Right now, it depends on what Rachel chooses to do. She may want to buy me out of the house, but I doubt it.” Silke swirled the wine in the glass. “I don’t know if I told you that while looking for the bank papers, I discovered she took out a twenty-thousand dollar home equity loan without telling me. And she must have gotten a bonus of some
kind because I found a statement for a checking account with an impressive balance that I knew nothing about.” She suddenly felt embar
rassed. “This is probably a lot more than you want to know.” She took a swallow of wine.
“I am interested and flattered that you trust me,” Kirin said. “Why do you think she suddenly started putting money in a separate account?”
“No clue. Unless she thought I was going to sue her.” Silke’s bitterness mixed with the wine.
“Did you think about suing her?”
“Not really. I was so hurt and angry. My brother really pressured me to bring charges, but I . . . I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to drag my life into court, either,” Kirin said.
“But you must’ve been frightened. I’m sure my brother would have re
acted the same way.”
A flush of embarrassment washed over Silke. “She wasn’t always like this. When we first met, she was outgoing and fun. As her job responsibilities increased, so did her irritability. She worked hard for a promotion to sales manager—especially with all the job cuts. I don’t know, I think about a year ago she started having trouble sleeping, drinking more, and her behavior became unpredictable. I thought it would pass. One night, she came home late, already drunk, and enraged. No matter what I said, she screamed. I was frustrated and I should have walked away, but I didn’t. When she pushed me and started to throw things, I knew better. The last thing I remember was her knocking me to the floor and grabbing me by the throat.” Empty tears fell. This time, they were tears of resignation.
Kirin looked for some tissues. “What will you do if she doesn’t want the house?”
“Phillip has a plan. He knows I can’t afford it, so he suggested that he and his wife buy the house, pay Rachel her fair share minus the money she took for the home equity loan, and then he’d rent it to me at a reasonable price.”
“It is a great house in a terrific location. What will you do if you don’t stay here?” Kirin touched her hand gently.
“The million dollar question. A lot depends on whether my vision gets
better or worse. If it gets worse, I won’t be able to teach at all. And I cer
tainly won’t be able to stay here by myself. If it gets better . . . I’m not sure. There’s a part of me that would very much like to return to Belize and see if there’s a possibility of building a life down there.”
Kirin leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “Huh, that’s an interesting idea. You do love it down there and have resources. As an artist you can pretty much live anywhere.”