Radclyffe - Love's Melody Lost

Shaken, not wanting it to show, Anna reached for the tube. "Here, give it to me," she said hoarsely.

She brushed the cream across Grahams jaw and down the side of her neck. "You missed a spot," she said softly, cupping Grahams chin gently in one hand. Graham struggled not to pull away. Anna sensed her discomfort and wondered why. Was it her blindness that made her so, or something else?

"Thank you," Graham remarked seriously when Anna took her hand away. The touch of Annas fingers on her skin had startled her. Even Helen rarely touched her, and Graham had not thought she missed it. She had little need of contact with anything save the keys of her piano. Still, her breath caught in her throat at the sensation of Annas fingers on her face. She struggled to control her expression, aware that she was trembling.

"Youre welcome," Anna replied, moving away. She had a hard time forgetting the look on Grahams face when she innocently touched her. It looked like fear.

**********

"Graham!" Helen cried when Graham walked into the kitchen. "Oh my gracious! Did you fall? Are you hurt?"

"Im finewhy?" Graham answered in surprise. She felt better than fine, in fact, she felt strangely exhilarated.

"Why, youve got dirt streaked on your face, and your shirt is a sight!" Graham took meticulous care in dressing, and Helen could never remember her with so much as a crease out of line on her tailored trousers.

Graham frowned. "I was gardeningapparently rather messily. Just how bad do I look?"

When Helen got over her astonishment, she laughed with delight. God bless Anna for this! "Im afraid you wouldnt like it. You look - disheveled."

Graham put down the glass she was about to fill. "Im going to shower," she said stiffly. She left with as much dignity as she could.

Helen looked after her, tears threatening to fall.

**********

Less than a week later Graham was startled by a knock on the door of the master suite. Helen never disturbed her when she was in her rooms. She rose from the chair that faced the open windows, calling, "Yes?"

"Graham, its Anna. I have something for you."

Graham opened the door to admit her, a question in her eyes. By way of explanation, Anna placed a package in her hands.

"These are for you," she said, suddenly shy. It had seemed like such a good idea when it first occurred to her. With Graham standing in front of her, as unassailable as always, she wasnt sure.

Graham motioned her inside with her usual grace. "Please, sit down."

Anna looked about, surprised by the luxury of Grahams quarters. Everything from the high four-poster bed to the ornate armoires and antique dressers spoke of cultured refinement. Graham projected such an austere impression that Anna had to remind herself that Graham had grown up in and been part of the very pinnacle of wealthy society. Her only visible concession to that opulent world now was her taste in clothes. Anna watched Graham carefully as she opened the parcel.

Graham stood by her bed, meticulously examining each item, her expression growing more and more perplexed. She said nothing as she carefully arranged the strange gifts. Finally she faced Anna, one elegant eyebrow arched in question.

"And these are?" she queried, her voice carefully uninflected.

Anna took a deep breath. "Two pairs of denim jeans, three blue cotton workshirts, six white cotton tee shirts, crew socks, and a pair of Timberline work boots."

"Interesting," Graham noted, struggling to keep her voice even. "And the purpose?"

"You cant garden in Saville row suits and Italian loafers. Its criminal," Anna stated. She didnt add that it was also unsafe for Graham on the steep, often muddy slopes in the shoes she usually wore.

"I have never worn blue jeans in my life," was all Graham could think to say. No one had ever been so bold as to comment on anything she had ever worn before. In fact, such an attempt would have drawn her most scathing reply. That Anna had taken it upon herself to actually buy her clothing astounded her.

"Theyre black," Anna answered smartly. "I thought youd prefer that."

"And how did you manage the size?" Graham asked, still strangely subdued. Anna was one of the few people she had ever known who did not seem intimidated by her. The other had been Christine, and that had been entirely different.

"I write out your checks," Anna explained. "I called your tailor."

Graham couldnt hide her shock. "You called Max Feinerman about blue jeans? What on earth did he say?"

Anna smiled at the memory. "He told me more than Ill ever need to know about your inseams, rise and waistbands. I had a hard time convincing him that it wasnt necessary for him to make the jeans, even though he insisted vehemently that he had always made all of your clothes. Hes delightful." She didnt add that he also obviously adored Graham, and had asked anxiously when he might be needed to tailor her next concert suit. He explained her trousers were cut to allow easy movement on a piano bench and that since Graham had an unusually long arm span, she needed extra width in the back and sleeves of her shirts. It was important, he said, that nothing impair her reach on the keyboard. His pride in assisting Graham had not diminished during her years of seclusion. Anna was coming to realize that Graham made an indelible impression on every one she touched.

Graham smiled softly as Anna spoke, one finger aimlessly tracing the cuff of her fine Irish linen shirt. "Poor Max," she said with a hint of laughter. "He probably hasnt yet recovered."

"Try them on," Anna suggested boldly.

Graham started with surprise, then laughed unexpectedly. "All right, Ms. Reid, I will. If you would be so kind as to excuse me for a moment." She gathered the clothes and disappeared into her dressing room, leaving Anna with the memory of her laughter.

Chapter Eight

Helen opened the music room door with one hand, Grahams breakfast tray balanced in the other. It was five a.m., and the sky visible through the open terrace was just beginning to lighten. It was the first of June, and although it was still cool in the early mornings, Graham had begun taking her meals outside on the stone patio. She was there at the edge of the balcony now, facing as always down to the sea. At the first sight of her Helen halted in astonishment.

"Graham?" she queried, her voice rising in surprise.

Graham turned, a distracted look on her face. "Yes? What is it?"

Helen collected herself quickly. "I -well, its - you look quite nice!"

Graham tilted her head, frowning. Helen wasnt making any sense. "I look - ah, the jeans! Youve noticed the addition to my wardrobe. Im not sure Im used to them yet."

"Wherever did you get them?"

"Anna decided my day wear was not suitable," Graham answered.

" Anna bought those clothes?" Helen cried in amazement. No one in Helens recollection had ever had the audacity to buy apparel for Graham, she was much too particular. That Anna was not only bold enough to do it, but that Graham seemed to have accepted the gesture with aplomb, amazed her.

"And do you approve?" Graham asked testily.

Helen studied her in frank amazement. She was broad in the shoulders, with narrow hips, and naturally sinewy. The white cotton tee shirt highlighted the muscles of her chest and arms. The close fitting jeans accentuated her leanness and height, giving her a tense feline appearance. She looked ten years younger and tautly lithe. In all the years Helen had known her, her appearance had always been refined, dignified, and wholly elegant. She had a kind of natural androgyny that suited her professional persona. Graham as an individual was secondary to her role as a musician. Her gender on the concert stage was of little consequence. This was the first time Helen had ever had a sense of Graham as a sexual being. It was a disconcerting, and at the same time, wonderfully gratifying change.