Sophie

Sophie Wilson was doing okay. She was doing better than she’d expected, certainly. Only five more days, she’d been telling herself. Only five more days and I’ll be home free. She had expected the holidays to be hard. It was true that Kelly had been gone for close to six months, but being alone for the holidays brought everything back in a rush and she felt like Kelly had only left her last week. She just had to get through New Year’s Eve—which she suspected was going to be the hardest of the cluster of days focused on togetherness and love—and she’d be ready to move forward with her life.

She tended to oscillate between bitter and angry, and hurt and heartbroken. Neither side was preferable. Bitter and angry at least kept her from crying constantly, but it was exhausting to hate everybody and everything all the time. And it wasn’t her; she wasn’t like that. Bitter and angry didn’t become her. Hurt and heartbroken was harder. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable or allowing her emotions that close to the surface. She didn’t like that people could take one quick glance her way and know she’d been destroyed by somebody she loved and trusted. Hurt and heartbroken sucked. Mostly, she’d thrown herself into her work. It had been the only thing that kept her sane. Ironically, she was getting more freelance graphic business now than she’d gotten in the five years she’d been offering her services. Life was so weird.

Leaning against the front door and surveying the group around her, she recognized the expression on Molly’s face, knew it too well from seeing it in the mirror every morning for three months before Kelly finally dropped her bomb. It was the expression of confusion, of loss of control, of I’m worried my life is about to fall apart and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.

Part of her wanted to help, wanted to take Molly aside and fill her in on the dark and dirty details of what might come. But she didn’t know Molly, and she didn’t know anything about her relationship with her partner. She could be totally off base. And the truth was, Sophie didn’t want to rehash her own experience, not this soon. She was afraid doing so might send her into a tailspin, a backward slide. She’d worked too hard to claw her way up from the depths of destruction and depression. You couldn’t pay her enough to skid back down even a few feet. The very thought terrified her.

Only five more days…

A knock on the door startled her, vibrating through her shoulder, and she jerked away. Amy looked up from the counter in the kitchen where she was filling wineglasses with the deep red selection from the shelves Jo had built in the basement. “That’s Laura. Would you let her in, Soph?”

Nodding, Sophie opened the front door to a smiling blonde with the dimples of a six-year-old.

“Hi,” the new guest said in a voice not at all childish, but surprisingly robust. “I’m Laura Baker.”

Sophie stepped aside and let the shorter woman in. “I’m Sophie.” She waited for Laura to set down her bag, then shook hands with her. Laura’s was cool and soft. “Sophie Wilson.”

“We’ve met, haven’t we?” Laura asked.

“Probably at one of their parties.”

Laura studied her, not releasing her hand. “Or maybe at Amy’s restaurant?”

Sophie surprised herself by not pulling away. These days she flinched at the touch of others, wishing she had a force field to guard her personal space. Laura’s grip wasn’t at all threatening, though. Not even a little uncomfortable. It was steady, sure. “That could be…”

“The day you came in with the ideas for the new logo,” Amy offered as she approached, flipping a dish towel over her shoulder. Sophie noticed that she glanced quickly at their still-linked hands, then up at Laura’s face. “Hi, sweetie.” She reached out for a hug. Laura did let go of Sophie then.

“That’s right,” Sophie said, snapping her fingers as recognition dawned. “You were looking for a specific kind of wine behind the bar the day I was there.” She recalled sitting at the bar early in the day with Amy, showing her a few designs for the new logo she was suggesting. Laura had slipped behind the bar and began reading each and every label of every bottle of white wine in the cooler until she found what she wanted for the evening’s special. Sophie remembered the blond hair pulled back in a smooth twist, the pristine white chef’s jacket, and the sparkling distraction in the blue eyes when Amy called her over and introduced her to Sophie. And she remembered those dimples.

“For my Artichokes French. You’re right.”

“Well.” Sophie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s good to see you again.”

Laura’s smile seemed very genuine as she replied, “It’s good to see you, too, Sophie.”

Sophie watched as introductions were made to Molly and Darby and Laura was enveloped in a huge hug from Jo, who commented on not seeing enough of her. Sophie’s mind gave her a jolt of surprise when it tossed her the idea that she’d like to see more of Laura, too. It had been such a long time since she’d had any thoughts even remotely sexual, she often wondered if her vibrator had collected so much dust by now that it wouldn’t run ever again. But there was something about Laura.

Sophie studied her as she was stripped of her coat by her hostess and chatted with Darby about her Toyota. She wasn’t conventionally pretty; she was actually rather plain, but in a wholesome, girl-next-door kind of way. Her dark blond hair was pin-straight, some of it fastened with a black clip at the back of her head. She was of average height, maybe an inch shorter than Sophie, and her build was pleasing…round in the right places, curved where it should be. Sophie forced her eyes away from Laura’s backside before anybody could catch her staring. I couldn’t help it; girl knows how to fill out a pair of jeans! Her face was round and her complexion as smooth and soft as the skin of a peach. The pink sweater she wore highlighted the rosy tint of her cheeks, the only color on skin so pale, Sophie was sure the slightest amount of sun would burn her as red as a cherry Life Saver.

Laura followed Jo and her bag upstairs, and Sophie had the happy realization that Laura would be occupying the other twin bed in the room where she was staying. She suppressed a grin as Amy handed her a glass of wine.

*

Two hours later, the six women sat around the dining room table, pleasantly full from the enormous pot of chili Amy had made. They sipped coffee and tea and picked from a variety of sweets scattered about the table.

“That was delicious, as always, Amy,” Sophie said, leaning back in her chair and patting her belly. “I think this week is going to be bad for the scale.”

“Like you couldn’t stand to gain a few pounds, Soph,” Jo commented.

“I know. But a breakup will do that to you.” She eyed the chocolate cheesecake in the middle of the table.

“It’s definitely the only surefire way I’ve found to lose weight,” Laura said. “I dropped almost twenty pounds when I got a divorce.”

“You were married?” Darby asked. “Like, to a guy?”

“Sadly, not every woman is a lesbian,” Sophie responded, gently chiding Darby and hoping to hide her own disappointment.

“Oh, I’m a lesbian,” Laura said. “Thus the divorcing of my husband.”

Sophie was curious and wanted to hear more. “Do tell.”

Laura shrugged. “It’s not really anything earth-shattering. I was married to Stephen for eleven years. Two years ago, I met Amanda, the wife of one of his work buddies. She was classy, gorgeous, and very accomplished in the art of seduction.” She grimaced in a self-deprecating way. “I fell head over heels in love with her, and for the first time in my life I felt comfortable with who I was. And I was certain we would be together forever.” She sipped her coffee.

“What happened?” Molly asked, sitting forward, her elbows on the table.

Sophie watched Laura shrug, recognizing the movement as a way to make something appear not as hurtful as it actually was. She’d used that same gesture herself many times when talking about Kelly.

“My husband found out. He was livid, of course.”

“Wait. You and this Amanda were together while you were still married to him?” Nausea churned in Sophie’s stomach. “You were cheating on him with her?”

Laura nodded. “Yes. I’m not proud of it, but I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to be with her.” She sipped from her mug again, out of self-consciousness, Sophie suspected. “Apparently, Amanda had no such intentions. She was never going to leave her husband. In fact, I was simply a fling to her. She’d had several with other women. I had no idea.”

The table was quiet aside from the gentle murmurs of pity. Sophie watched Laura’s face seeing the hurt that hid just beneath the surface, but at the same time feeling that she deserved it. “Your poor husband,” she said quietly.

Laura’s blue eyes turned to her, a split second of icy defiance visible in them before it melted into guilt. “Yeah.”

“Right, but what was she supposed to do?” Darby asked. “She’s realizing she might be gay.”

“How about talking to her husband?” Sophie tried not to make the suggestion through clenched teeth. “Telling him the truth? Giving him a chance?”

“A chance to what?” Darby countered. “It’s good in theory, but doesn’t really hold any water. There’s nothing he can do to make her not gay, right?”

Laura’s head cranked back and forth between the two as they spoke, as if she was watching a tennis match.

“They still could have talked,” Sophie said, her anger building.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Darby insisted.

“It might have.”

“How? Was she just supposed to stay in a relationship where she wasn’t happy?”

“Yes!”

Darby flinched as though Sophie had slapped her and fell silent, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. The entire table had grown quiet, the atmosphere suddenly filled with discomfort as people focused on their drinks or their food, afraid to look up.

“Kelly cheated on me.” Sophie said it matter-of-factly, as if remarking on the weather. She felt the stares of Amy and Jo, knowing this was news to them.

“What?” Jo said, surprise clear in her voice.

“Kelly was having an affair. With that…woman from the gym.” She spat the word “woman” with the same inflection she’d have given if she’d said “mucus” or “vomit.” “That’s who she’s living with now. Evidently, they’re very happy.”

“Oh, Sophie.” Amy reached over and placed her hand over Sophie’s. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Sophie half-shrugged. “It’s not really something that’s fun to share. It makes you feel worthless, like all your years together were a lie, like your partner has been settling for second best the whole time.” She glanced pointedly at Laura, who pressed her lips together and studied the contents of her mug.

“Well, obviously Kelly was a moron,” Molly piped up, looking slightly ill herself.

Sophie chuckled, grateful for the comment of solidarity. “Thanks, Molly.”

There was an awkward silence, the sounds of silverware on plates and the sipping of coffee filling the room.

Jo cleared her throat. “So. How ’bout those Buffalo Bills?”

Sophie felt a small smile make an attempt to appear on her face, acknowledging gratitude to Jo for at least trying to lighten the moment.

Jo continued, her strong voice cutting through the quiet. “Amy. Tell the story.” At Amy’s quizzical expression, she clarified, “About the woods.”

“Oh, no,” Darby grumbled good-naturedly. “Not the Magic Acre story.”

“Shut up, Darby,” Amy scolded with a grin. Looking around the table, she asked her dearest friends, “I’ve never told you this story? Molly? Surely you must have heard it.”

“Magic Acre? I don’t think so.” Molly raised her eyebrows in uncertainty. “Maybe. Refresh my memory.”

Sophie loved to listen to Amy’s voice. She had a decidedly feminine lilt with a little bit of hoarseness underneath that put her on Sophie’s list of Women Who Can Read the Phone Book to Me. She sat back in her chair and listened to her friend speak.

Amy had tied her hair back into a ponytail when she began cooking dinner. It now hung over the front of her left shoulder, the end curling in a corkscrew. She wound it around her finger and pursed her lips, finding the right place to start. “When I was a kid—a little kid, like four or five—my grandmother used to tell me the woods around here were enchanted. She said that a hundred or so years ago, there was a structure back farther on the property.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the back yard. “Apparently, a witch lived there.”

Sophie chuckled, as did Laura. Darby hid her smile in her cup. Molly gave them each a mock-scolding look and elbowed Darby. “Go on, Amy.”

Amy inclined her head in thanks and continued. “She was a good witch, gentle, and looked out for those around her who also lived in this area. Nothing huge or what you’d consider traditional witchcraft. She didn’t cast scary spells. There was no fire and brimstone. Grandma said she made ‘magic nudges’ to help teach people lessons or understand things they already knew but had trouble accepting.”

“So, she was, like, a witch psychiatrist?” Sophie asked with a giggle.

Amy allowed herself to be teased. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So,” Darby continued, “Amy’s grandma liked to call this spot in the woods the Magic Acre. Even though there are seventy-five of them.”

“Are all the acres magic or is there one specific one?” Laura asked, biting her bottom lip to keep from cracking up.

“Hey, you guys can make fun all you want. I believe it to be true,” Amy said firmly, the remnants of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Sophie helped herself to a cookie off a plate in the center of the table. “And Jo? What do you think?”

Jo’s brown eyes glittered. “I think whatever Amy says is the absolute truth.”

“A good, wifely answer,” Molly commented. “Smart if you don’t want to get cut off in the bedroom.”

“Hey,” Jo grinned. “My mother drowned all the dumb kids.”

The laughter continued and the tension previously filling the room seemed to dissipate. Sophie still felt the prick of disappointment in Laura, but managed to keep it in check. Laura’s revelation would most likely keep them from becoming friends, and Sophie almost felt it was something over which she had no control. She could use all the new friends she could get at this point in her life, but Laura? Her still-aching soul and forever-shattered heart wouldn’t allow it. How could she possibly like somebody who’d done the same, horrible thing to her spouse that Kelly had done to her? She shook her head very slightly from side to side, a movement she hoped was indiscernible to the rest of the crew at the table. Impossible, she thought.

Much later, she exited the bathroom upstairs with her teeth brushed, her face washed, and her pajamas on. Laura was sitting on the edge of her own bed in their room. Sophie felt the blue eyes zip over her body and an expression she couldn’t quite figure out crossed Laura’s face. She looked like she wanted to say something as she got to her feet, and the two of them stood in the room for what felt like several long minutes, looking at each other but saying nothing.

Finally, Laura pressed her lips together in a small semblance of a smile and left to take her turn in the bathroom. Sophie watched her go, feeling guilt, anger, disappointment, hurt, attraction, and curiosity. She dropped down onto her own bed, suddenly exhausted, and wondered how she could possibly feel so many feelings all at once and not simply have her head explode.