One Degree Of Separation Part 21

Liddy didn't move or react. There was only the rapid rise and fall of her chest, which made Marian notice how wonderfully voluptuous Liddy was. She'd never been with a woman so . . . ample. So . . . full.

Her mouth was watering.

There was no air again. All the blood in her body seemed to have drained to between her legs. For a moment she thought she might faint.

Liddy abruptly gasped for breath, breaking the taut silence.

"Maybe you should. Or I'm going to start begging."

126.

"Dear lord," Marian murmured. She turned blindly toward the door, but Liddy's voice froze her in place.

"Please. Don't go."

Had that moan come from her? Finding enough air to speak was difficult. "Liddy, I-I can't stay. We can't."

"Why not?"

"I hardly know-we don't know each other. And we both got hurt."

"I'm willing to risk it." Liddy's footsteps moved toward her.

"Maybe I'm lying to myself, but I've never felt like this about anyone before."

The hot reality of Liddy's body behind her made Marian break out in a sweat. Heat and fear mingled, and her heart beat so loudly she could hardly hear her own words. "I'm still in love with someone else. It's not right for me to do that to you."

Liddy made a noise of abrupt pain, like the time Marian had caught a football with her stomach.

She whirled around to face her. "I'm sorry, Liddy. I told you I was a mess."

Her face pale as ice, Liddy said, "Yes, you should go. You really should."

"I may be a mess, but there are things I won't do, and I won't-"

"Please. Go."

There was only a long look after that, then Marian left. The back porch stairs seem to waver under her feet.

"At least I told her the truth," she said to her reflection in the rear-view mirror. "At least I remember some of the rules."

127.

9.

Liddy congratulated herself for not crying until she heard Marian's car start up. It seemed like she ought to cry because she hurt, all over. Her body had been in flames and now she felt dead.

Not even angry.

She'd been the one arguing they should just give in, hadn't she?

Enjoy the purely physical fun? So why did knowing that Marian was in love with someone else make all the difference in the world?

There was an empty socket where her heart ought to be. It had been that way since Robyn had ripped it out by the roots. Except looking at those flowers and the silly pastries, for a few minutes she'd felt cared for. That she mattered to someone. And if she'd had no heart she wouldn't have felt anything like that, would she? But she had.

She wanted to the throw the flowers away. Instead she put them in a pitcher she found in the cupboard. She cried over the delicious pastries and wished she wasn't eating them alone.

128.

Marian thought she was a mess? She has nothing on me, Liddy thought. I'm still so mad at Robyn I could snap-kick her to Canada.

It still hurts. And I'm sitting here thinking I don't need Marian to love me, I just want her to bring me flowers and go to bed with me and be around all the time. But not be in love with me. Right.

She finished the second pastry and made coffee. It wasn't until she'd had a relaxing few sips that she saw the card on the counter.

She wasn't sure she should read it now, but of course she did.

The picture on the front was cute, two little girls having a spat about a cake. Dear Liddy, she read. I don't usually shout at new friends.

I think Jane Smiley had a point, don't you? I rained on our yesterday, so I hope these brighten today. Tomorrow, who knows?

Simple and sweet, Liddy thought, rubbing one finger over the signature. I'm a new friend. Is that what this is? Friends.h.i.+p? In an Iowa pig's eye, she thought.

She's in love with someone else. Friends.h.i.+p is what we can have.

But she sure as h.e.l.l wants me, Liddy thought. The miserable ex who broke Marian's heart hadn't destroyed Marian's libido. Even if Marian still thought she was in love with the louse, she wanted Liddy as bad as Liddy wanted her.

Sooner or later, Liddy predicted, Marian will get over the nutso, and when she does-d.a.m.n. I'll be in Berkeley f.u.c.king California.

Home. Not here. And someone else will notice the smile, the wit, the charm and the brains. Not to mention those hips and those shoulders and that a.s.s. If word got out what a great kisser Marian was there'd be a line around the block of the Java House. Library patronage would double. What was wrong with the d.y.k.es in this town that a woman like Marian was even single?

She sighed heavily as she finished the coffee. You're idealizing her, she told herself. Sitting here on a sugar high, smelling her flowers and thinking that she'll get over the crazy ex in time.

In time? In time for what? Before you go? Right. And then what?

Dojo, she decided, glad it was open on Sundays, and then she really needed to do more reading. Yesterday had been too unsettling.

129.

Swear to freakin' G.o.d, she thought irritably. She wouldn't waste another day wondering about Marian the Librarian and that Mona Lisa smile and gold-green eyes that looked right into her heart.

Flowers, sugar, a card-it took more than that to turn her into a pathetic, lovesick, mushy, goofy . . .

She hadn't stopped at the library to get that book, though.

Smiling slightly, she went upstairs to change.

"No, Hill, you are not going for a ride. Let's go for a walk, though. It'll be too wet tonight."

Hill danced about her for a few minutes, certain she did not really mean to take him out on the leash. She finally got him calm enough to snap it on. At the foot of the driveway she turned left, away from Hemma's and Amy's. She'd go the other way later and be in time for breakfast.

She liked her neighborhood. It wasn't as ritzy as the faculty zones, and the houses were a mix of owned and rented. But the flowerbeds were for the most part kept up and almost without fail she knew all of her neighbors by name. Hill knew every tree by smell.

The lots tended to be small, but there were exceptions. Amy and Hemma had chosen theirs precisely because it was oversized. The garden was a prize, and watching it go to someone else's care-and likely left to wither, she thought depressingly-was going to be difficult. But that was the way it was going to go.

You need to be careful, she warned herself, of making not having the house about not having Hemma. That if only you had the house, your life would not be falling apart.

Hill spotted a squirrel and barked furiously in his "Danger, danger, Will Robinson" way.

"Hill! Heel!"

After a last furious bark, Hill subsided and took up a less ferocious stance.

"Good boy, that's a good boy, protecting me from the vicious squirrel of death," Marian crooned.

130.

"Marian!"

"Heya, Patty."

Patty mopped her brow, but kept jogging in place. "Hot as h.e.l.l, but we're going to the beach later. Hopefully the storm front will hold off until tonight."

"It's supposed to be late afternoon. The beach at McBride?"

"Yeah. Maybe rent a pontoon for lunch. Wen's a little down."

"I'm sorry about that." She didn't add that Patty was looking very fit this morning. Flirting with Patty in front of Wen had always felt okay. But when they were alone, it didn't feel quite right. Like she needed another married woman in her life, she reminded herself.

Patty was just plain attractive, that was all, but there was no reason to play with that particular fire. "Is the new hot tub working out?"

"Yeah. It's really great. She sleeps well after a good soak."

"You're going to die of heatstroke if you keep that up much longer."

Patty grinned. "Yeah. Okay, talk later."

"Don't forget your suntan lotion," Marian called after her. She watched Patty's trim, muscular figure lightly running away and allowed herself a brief appreciation of the view. She wasn't dead, she told herself. Noticing Patty was perfectly natural. Noticing Liddy was, too.

She'd done more than notice Liddy, Inner s.l.u.t smirked.

"Come on, Hill, stop ogling."

Hill gave her a resentful look, but Marian was content to blame everything on Hill for now.

They were greeted at home by Trombone, who told a whopping lie about how starved she was for food and attention. Hill wisely didn't brag about his walk, so there was no squabble to settle.

It was nearly ten and Marian realized she was dreading going next door. Never had she not eagerly bounded across the lawn. Maybe she was just depressed from the scene with Liddy. It was hardly a scene, she had to admit. Liddy hadn't yelled or screamed or . . . done anything remotely like Robyn. Robyn had not liked being disagreed with or her plans in any way countermanded.

131.

Don't think about that overmuch, Inner Therapist suggested. It didn't pay to dwell on something that would surely give her a headache.

The sunlight was so sharp that it seemed impossible a storm front would be in by late afternoon. She shaded her eyes as she walked across the lawn, hoping she didn't fall apart the moment she saw Hemma.

"Hey." Hemma leaned on the doorjamb as Marian came up the front steps. "Amy said you were joining us for pancakes."

"I'm honored." She tried to find a casual air but she didn't feel the same inside. It just hurt too much to look at that gentle smile and those luminous dark eyes. Never for her-and now going away.

"Amy's got a huge stack going. I hope you're hungry."

"Yeah. I even took Hill for a walk so I could work up an appet.i.te."

She followed Hemma to the kitchen, dying with every step. How many times did she have left for the simple intimacy of a meal with Hemma-and with Amy. Family, they really were the family she had adopted when she'd moved here. Losing them both at once felt . . .

bad.

Oh. She stopped for a moment, nonplussed. What day is it? June 8 . . . why was that important? Abandonment, Inner Therapist said sharply, is a familiar theme in your life, Marian. Pay attention!

"Heya, hope you're hungry!" Amy carefully transferred a yellow-corn pancake from the griddle to the platter on the table. "That's the last one." She paused halfway back to the stove. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry-"

"So am I!" Hemma threw her arms around Marian and they were crying together. Hemma's body was warm, soft . . . flush against Marian's.

Her hands trembled on Hemma's back. She wanted to touch, to feel Hemma arch slightly against her.

Not yours, she told herself. Not yours. Never was yours. It was all in your head.

132.

"I'm so sorry, this isn't your fault. I just remembered today's the day my folks died and all of a sudden it was too much." She pushed Hemma away gently, not daring to look into her eyes. "I know that you're not going away forever. I will see you again. But . . ."

"A little close to the same nerve?"

"Yeah. I think even a marginal therapist would have spotted that one." Marian summoned a smile.

Amy waved a hand at the steaming stack of pancakes. "Food is good for the soul, you two. And it's better while it's hot."

Hemma got them both a tissue. "I feel like I'm moving away from my little sister."

Marian was glad of the tissue to cover her face for a moment. A sister, she thought. In that moment, something turned to lead inside her. What had she been doing all these years? Wanting a woman she could not have, yes, but she'd also been yearning after a woman who did not want her. A woman who would never want her.