Radclyffe - Crossroads

“I thought I had,” Annie said, no bitterness in her tone, only resignation. “I know now what I really felt was need and gratitude—that a man like him would pay attention to someone like me—”

“Someone like you?” Hollis couldn’t keep quiet. “You’re kidding, right? You’re beautiful. You’re bright and warm and sexy. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

Annie blushed, a smile racing across her full red lips. “Well. I don’t believe he ever actually said any of those things to me.”

“Then he should have.”

Annie laughed softly and some of the sadness left her eyes. “He showed me things, took me places I’d never imagined. So when he wanted to show me physical things, it seemed natural.”

Hollis struggled to ignore the sinking sensation spreading through her. She’d never had any explicit reason to think Annie was a lesbian, but she’d let her own attraction make her think that was the case. She’d been attracted to straight women on occasion, but rarely. It wasn’t a matter of physical appeal, but more one of personality. Subtle differences in desires and expectations always seemed to come through, but this time, she’d read the signals wrong. She put her own disappointment aside. This wasn’t about her or what she wanted or hoped or didn’t. This was about Annie. “Seems pretty natural to me, to be physically attracted to someone who’s taken an interest in you and shown you new things, new experiences.”

“I suppose,” Annie said pensively. “It never occurred to me—not once—that I wouldn’t want to be with a man when the time was right. Those things just aren’t spoken of in our community.”

“You mean being gay?”

“Yes. It never occurred to me I was a lesbian. And then I met Jeff and…well, I made quite a few mistakes.” Annie laughed ruefully. “But I learned a lot too. I have Callie, I know who I am, and I know not to make the same mistakes again.”

“When did you realize you were a lesbian?” Hollis asked, the weight of disappointment melting away.

“Not for several years after Callie was born. Several of my colleagues are gay, and when I saw some of my patients with their partners, I saw a different life than I’d ever imagined—one that wakened something in me. I realized the reason I felt so comfortable with them, so attuned, was because I was like them. So then I knew and another piece fell into place for me.”

“Like I said,” Hollis said softly, “you’re amazing.”

“You still think that, even after I told you this story?”

“Even more so.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t deserve any thanks. You did all the hard stuff.”

“All the same—” A roll of thunder broke overhead and Annie looked up. “Uh-oh.”

Huge black thunderclouds raced toward them from the east, obliterating the sun.

Someone yelled, “Storm coming,” and a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky.

Annie jumped up and headed for Callie. Hollis barely made it to her feet before gigantic raindrops started pelting her. Within seconds, sheets of water poured down on them. Parents raced to find their kids, thunder roared, and lightning cracked. Hollis ran straight for Annie, who had Callie in her arms, and grabbed a beach towel off the back of an unoccupied chair on the way. She swung it around Annie’s shoulders and over Callie’s head. Wrapping her arm around Annie’s shoulders, she yelled, “Follow me.”

She led them toward the pool house, which was the closest shelter that wasn’t a tree. Most everyone else had run for the house or the nearby garage. Hollis pushed open the door of the small shed, and they crowded into the twelve-foot-square space next to the pool equipment and shelves filled with neatly stacked containers of chemicals. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. “Power’s out.”

Another crack of thunder seemed to rattle the structure around them.

“Mommy,” Callie said, her voice wavering, “I’m scared.”

Annie brushed damp hair from Callie’s face and stood with her in the open doorway. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a big rainstorm. Sometimes when it rains this hard it thunders really loud. We’re safe inside here.” She used the towel to dry Callie’s face and arms. When she was done, she handed it to Hollis. “It’s pretty soaked. But you might be able to dry your hair a little bit.”

“Thanks.” Hollis briskly toweled her hair. Her T-shirt was beyond help—wet through and plastered to her in waterlogged folds. She wasn’t concerned about being wet, though—she was too absorbed with Annie.

Annie’s hair lay in ringlets along her cheeks and neck, and when a flash of lightning illuminated her face, her profile resembled that on a cameo carved from ivory. Her pale green top clung to her breasts and the arch of her collarbones, an eloquent invitation for fingers to follow their delicate curves. She was so beautiful Hollis’s chest ached.

Annie turned away from the storm, her expression questioning. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good,” Hollis said, though the brisk wind blowing through the open door raised goose bumps on her skin. “You’re soaking wet, though.” She used the driest corner of the towel to blot the water from Annie’s face and the angle of her jaw. Annie’s lips parted and her pupils flickered as Hollis leaned close. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks,” Annie said, her voice husky.

Callie wriggled in Annie’s arms. “I want to get down now. I want to watch the lightning.”

“All right. Just stay right next to me.” Annie kept one hand on Callie’s head but her gaze locked on Hollis. “I appreciate you getting us to shelter.”

“You’re welcome,” Hollis whispered, backing up a step, the towel clenched in her fist. Beyond Annie’s shoulder, the sky lightened. “It’s letting up.”

“Yes. These summer storms never last long.”

“No.” Hollis hoped it kept raining. Nothing in the world outside this small cocoon had ever made her feel so alive.

Annie turned away and leaned outside, angling her head to check the sky. “I need to get her home and dried off before another wave comes through.” She took Callie’s hand. “Come on, baby.”

“Right,” Hollis said following her out into the light drizzle. Annie dashed across the yard toward the drive, and Hollis shoved her hands into her pockets, shivering in the cool breeze.

Chapter Eleven

At eight a.m. Tuesday morning, Annie drove to Kathy Murphy’s home in West Mt. Airy, a short ten-minute drive from her apartment. Kathy still had almost four months to go before she delivered her second child. Today was a routine checkup. Annie liked seeing patients in their homes—the mother-to-be was most relaxed and confident in the familiar setting, and that safety helped ground the entire birth process in a positive light, from the progression of the pregnancy through delivery and aftercare. Kathy was waiting on the front porch in a white wooden swing hung from colorful braided ropes set in the ceiling, her five-year-old by her side and an open children’s book covering their laps.

“Hi,” Kathy called, smiling brightly. Her daughter Grace waved enthusiastically as Annie came up the walk.

“Hi.” Annie smiled and waved back to Grace. “Beautiful morning.”

“Isn’t it? I love this time of year,” Kathy said. “It’s a great time to be pregnant.”

Annie laughed. “That’s the spirit. How is everything?”

“Fine. Well, almost.” Kathy frowned for a second and pointed to her feet. “All except for that. I was hoping not to see that again until closer to the end. It’s not even June yet and I’m swelling.”

Annie kept her expression neutral as she glanced at Kathy’s ankles. Both were swollen for several inches above the joint. Pedal edema was common in the last several months of pregnancy when the pressure in the abdomen from the expanding uterus and growing fetus impaired the return of blood and lymph from the lower extremities. Six months was early to begin seeing this much fluid collecting, though, and could signal problems. Annie settled onto the swing on the other side of Grace. “When did you start seeing it last time?”