by Erzabet Bishop
I glanced over at the attractive thirty-something woman with the massive pile of books on the table in front of her, and then sighed as I looked at my watch.
Every Saturday night for the past three months, she had come in and camped out in the far corner of the cafe with a steaming cup of tea and the largest slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake we sold.
Over each successive visit, my eyes had taken in every detail—from the way she sighed as she looked at a magazine, to the way her lips curled up when she slid a bite of the luscious cheesecake into her mouth. I didn’t miss the shadows that haunted the woman’s eyes when she thought no one was watching. That was what hooked me—the fragile nature of her smile as she turned the pages of a decorating magazine, or whatever she was reading that night, and daydreamed.
Last week I had noticed a change in her reading habits. You get to know people by the books they leave behind on tables. Decorating magazines, nursing test prep, college essay help…those things you see every day. What you don’t normally see are piles of lesbian travel books and magazines. At first I thought she was deliberately provoking me.
While making my rounds as I worked the sales floor, I sometimes felt the weight of the woman’s eyes following me. Having recently been promoted to manager on duty, it was my job to keep the nightly recovery moving forward. There never failed to be piles of books and magazines sitting in the aisles and lurking in corners. With sales down and minimal staff, it was tough, especially on the weekends, to keep up with the re-shelving. I brushed my hands down my slacks and risked another glance in the woman’s direction. Our eyes met, and I felt a flush creep up the back of my neck as I quickly looked away. Was I obvious?
Today her nails were painted a breathtaking red. Each fingernail was lacquered flawlessly; something I had never been able to maintain. One pile of re-shelves, and any attention to my nails inevitably went out the window, I thought with disgust. I wasn’t sure which was more mouthwatering—her or the cheesecake on the table in front of her.
Over the three months, a warm pool of desire had slowly been dissolving my inner resolve not to get involved with anyone even remotely connected with work. It was too dangerous. Rumors could easily ruin everything. Sighing, I took in the woman as I scooped up another pile of drops from the floor. It was a never-ending job, and lately it was wearing me out.
The last books to be re-shelved were the pile on her table. It was as if she purposely had collected a large stack of books for me to gather at the end of the night.
Grumbling, I approached. My resolve to just pick up the books and stomp off crumbled the moment my gaze tumbled into her dark eyes. My eyes locked on hers, and she gave me a tentative smile.
“Excuse me, ma’am. We’re closing in thirty minutes. Are you done with those?”
My eyes moved to the pile of books in front of her; they were on cancer treatment and on food to conquer cancer. Suddenly I realized these books were for her. She laid a travel magazine over the pile of books and met my gaze.
Slender, with curves in the right places, the woman wore a sapphire blue dress, with a black sweater covering her arms. Her lipstick was blood red, and when she spoke, her chocolate eyes twinkled with mischief. Raven hair twisted in a stylish headband updo was the icing on the cake, and I longed to take her hair down and run my fingers through it. My expression must have given me away, because the woman’s grin got even wider.
“Hello. I’m Grace.” She held out her hand and captured mine in hers for the briefest of moments. Her gaze lingered on my name badge, and her lips quirked upward. “Hello, Julie. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to come over here and talk to me.”
* * *
It took me months to get up the nerve to arrange to see Grace outside of the bookstore. After weekly coffee dates and finally a movie or two, I had become the clichéd best friend who secretly lusted after her BFF, but I kept my feelings to myself. Mostly.
Now and then I would fall into the trap of watching Grace while we shopped or gossiped, and imagine myself taking the pins out of her hair. Was her skin as soft as I imagined? Probably softer.
We often went to a small park, where we would talk about our lives as we walked. She would hold my hand as we spent hours wandering along the gravel-strewn paths among the shade trees. I discovered that the girl of my dreams was not just reading about cancer, but had cervical cancer, which was in remission.
Cancer bonded us. My sister died from complications of breast cancer, and the thought of the vibrant woman I loved being taken the same way was a knife in my heart. I did everything I could to help support Grace. Appointments, screenings, I drove when she couldn’t. I held her when she cried, and cheered when her reports came back clean as a whistle. It was a journey. Sometimes it felt more like a merry-go-round, but for her, I would do anything.
Before one of our walks, we were sitting in a coffee shop that was located near the park. The coffee was lousy, but the lemon pound cake was to die for. I had just taken a bite when Grace said, “Julie, I’d like you to come over to my house this week-end for a cook-out.
Encouraged that things between us might actually be moving in a positive direction, I hastily swallowed my cake. Before I could reply, though, she added, “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Merle.”
I was confounded. I had thought I knew all the important things there were to know about Grace. Why, in all of our talks, had she not mentioned him?
“Boyfriend?” I sputtered.
She looked away. “I should have told you about him before now. I’m sorry.”
My head spun. Boyfriend? “No, don’t worry about it.” I shrugged. “I think I had better let you go. I’m going to be late for work.” I had hours before my shift, but I needed some space to think. I knew better than to fall for a straight girl; it only led to heartache. Oh, how could I have been so stupid?
Her eyes grew round. “Your shift doesn’t start for another couple of hours. Can’t you walk with me a while?”
She had just told me she had a boyfriend, and now she wanted to be alone with me? It made my heart hurt to hope, to want more than we already had together. I nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But not for long. I need to get back.”
Grace pursed her lips as she led me to the wooded path. We walked side by side, our shoes crunching on the gravel of the path. When the silence between us became nearly impossible to bear, she finally said, “You’re mad at me.”
I set my jaw and kept on walking.
She stopped in the middle of the path. “You are. You’re furious with me. Why?”
I paused mid-stride, not looking at her. “Why do you think?” I asked softly.
The hand on my back made me shudder, and my nipples pebbled in frustrated desire. A fine rain started to fall, putting a chill in the air.
Grace stepped in front of me, her face full of wonder. “It’s true then. You do want me,” she whispered, her trembling fingers reaching out to touch my face.
I grasped her wrist as if it was a viper. “Stop,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have a boyfriend, and I don’t poach on someone who isn’t available.” Tears glittered in the corners of my eyes, and I angrily blinked them away.
Grace peeled my hand off of her wrist and raised it to her lips, then kissed the palm of my hand. Her eyes met mine and, before I could breathe, her lips caressed mine with a feather light kiss. She tasted of strawberries and sugary sweetness.
“Follow me,” she said suddenly, grasping my hand.
The sodden leaves slippery beneath our feet, we carefully navigated the terrain as we moved away from prying eyes. Grace urged me just off the trail into a secluded spot we had often used to talk more privately. The secluded canopy of the trees provided an intimacy that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Her breasts pressed against mine, and I was lost, lost in the trust of her eyes and the soft sighs of her lips on mine, lost in the cinnamon scent of her hair and the musk of her arousal as my hands caressed her curves.
I was still angry with her, but the heat from my body overwhelmed the confusion in my head. Her lips were soft, and they coaxed my traitorous wants into a spiraling vortex of lust.
My hands explored her. Our lips met in a fevered frenzy, and somehow her blouse became unbuttoned, and the dappled light shone on the ivory softness of her breasts.
“You are everything to me,” I whispered into her hair.
She drew back and brushed her lips along the line of my jaw. “I love you, Julie.” Her arms wrapped around me. “No matter what else happens, please remember that.”
My heart sang.
If only that feeling had lasted.
* * *
Merle shook my hand as I entered the house. “Hey, Julie. Thanks for coming over.”
Grace had insisted I come. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see,” she had said. I knew that she just wanted to see how I would react to Merle. It didn’t take long to find out. He was outside manning the grill in the back yard, when he ran out of beer. It was easy to tell he had been imbibing before I arrived, as well. That was enough to make me stay away from him.
“Hey! Get me a beer!” he called out, his words slurring.
I rolled my eyes, focusing on chopping up the lettuce when I heard Grace gasp.
“Bitch, I told you to get me a fucking beer. Are you deaf?” Merle’s fists were as ugly as his mouth. They connected with Grace’s cheekbone and sent her flying against the counter, then his bulk trapped her in a corner near the sink.
“Merle!” I wedged my way between them. “Leave her alone.”
“Stay out of it, Julie,” Grace whimpered from behind me. “When he simmers down, he’ll go sleep it off. He won’t even remember it in the morning.”
I shook my head. “No.” I knew better than to take my eyes off a drunken abuser. My own past had provided that particular element of education. It wrenched at my heart to see it happening to Grace.
“Get out of the way, bitch.” Merle moved closer, the malignance in his gaze growing with every breath. “You whores are all the same—take a man for granted and conspire against him. Now. Get. My. Fucking. Beer!” he roared, swinging out with his fists.
I screamed a curse and threw him to the floor, my weight for once being an asset instead of a liability. Pinning him to the floor, I shouted at Grace, “Hand me the pot on the stove.” Merle struggled beneath me, and I used all the force I could muster to keep him in place.
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t.”
“Damn it, Grace, get me the pan.” Merle kept swinging, but I had learned a long time ago how to deflect the sloppy onslaught of a drunk asshole. Grace was frozen, her mind taking her to a safer place. I released Merle just long enough to grab the saucepan on the stove.
“You bitch!”
He reached for me, but I was faster. The pan steady in my grip, I swung, connecting with the side of his head. It knocked him out cold, and he lay sprawled on the kitchen floor.
My arm aching from the impact, I staggered backwards to the counter. Grace was immobile, staring at Merle’s prone body.
“Come with me, Grace,” I implored. Her tortured eyes turned to mine, and silent tears poured down her face. The ghosts that were haunting her were ones I knew well. She had to make the decision to leave. Nothing I could say would change anything. Not until she was ready.
I took her hand, and she followed me wordlessly as I led her upstairs.
“Where is your room?”
Grace pointed to the first door down the hall. Her bedroom was light and airy, with a bathroom nearby. I led to the bed and tenderly laid her down. “I’ll be right back.”
“Julie—”
“Shhh. Don’t talk, just rest.”
I ran down the short hallway to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and wet it under the tap, then took it back to Grace. I wiped her face, and then laid it over her eyes. “Rest, now. I’m locking this door behind me when I leave.” I kissed her forehead tenderly and clicked the latch on the door as I shut it behind me. The bastard wasn’t going to come after her again today.
Listening for noises from the kitchen, I went down the stairs and crept toward the kitchen. I peered inside. Merle was gone. The saucepan lay in the middle of the floor, the only evidence that anything was amiss. Outside, an engine revved and tires squealed as a car sped out of the driveway. I warred with myself over calling the police. Grace wouldn’t thank me for that. That much I knew. It would drive a wedge between us, and I couldn’t do that. I flicked the lock on the front door and then walked out, hoping to God that she would see the light soon. If Grace didn’t leave him soon, he would surely kill her before the cancer could.
* * *
I didn’t know whether Grace ever even thought about that one moment we had shared in the park. We were still best friends, but she hadn’t mentioned the kiss, or touched me since. If she knew I was still crushing on her, she gave little sign of it. We texted daily, and if I didn’t see her, I called to make sure she was okay. We still did things together, but never again met at her house. I didn’t trust myself to go over there when Merle might be home.
After the debacle the day of the cook-out, I tried not to think about Grace as anything more than a friend. I burned for her, but as long as she was committed to Merle, I had to swallow down my passion and let it smolder. I loved her too much to let her go altogether. It was better to have her in my life as a friend, than not in my life at all. He may have found her first, but she was still mine, if only as a confidant and a friend.
Still, sometimes the way she looked at me with that mischief-laced smile made me wonder. Lately though, it had seemed more and more as if something was on her mind. We would be at the grocery store, and I would catch her looking at me as I rummaged through the produce. Cold showers were becoming a personal hobby. Every day was an exercise in self-control.
For Grace, I would endure it all. I loved her, and that would have to be enough.
One afternoon, right before my shift ended, she called me at the store.
“Julie?”
“Hi, Grace. Hold on just a minute, please.” I finished helping the last customer and watched as he exited the store. “Okay, I’m done here. What’s up?”
“Can you come over? I just got the results from the latest screening.”
A week earlier, I had held her hand in the doctor’s office as she cried. There had been a chance her cervical cancer was making a comeback, and we were both terrified.
“Oh wow.” Dread scraped at the bottom of my stomach. “Have you told Merle?”
The line went quiet. “No.”
“Ah.”
“Can you come?”
“Is he there?”
“No. He’s out.”
“Nothing could keep me away.”
I showed up with cupcakes from the cafe and a flock of nervous butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Had her cancer returned? It made me sick to even think about it.
When she opened the door to let me in, I almost dropped the cupcakes. Her hair was askew and her makeup smudged, like she had been crying. A large bump was forming on her forehead, and her left eye was beginning to swell shut in a variety of shades of blue and a purple bordering on black.
“Oh my God, Grace!” My hands shook as I set the pastries on the floor of the porch. A blistering anger rolled through me. “He did this.” My voice was leaden, dulled by conflicting emotions that I didn’t dare express, and a flush settled over my face.
“It was just after I called you, and I knew you would already be on your way over.” Her eyes met mine, and then lowered to the ground. She was dressed in jeans and a Daisy Duke-style top that was knotted in front. The collar was torn, and there was blood on her left breast, most likely from her split lip.
“Where is he?” I growled, a raw and primitive rage sweeping over me. Bastard! He would never deserve her. Never.
“He left, Julie. Stormed out of here pretty quickly after he dented my face.”
Her shaking voice dissolved into a hiccupping sob. Her hand reached up to her swollen eye, and she sobbed harder, her misery a steel weight around my own heart. I felt every bruise as if it was my own.
“Can I come in?”
I didn’t wait for Grace’s answer. I scooped the cupcakes up from the porch and pushed my way past her and through the door. The house looked a wreck. A chair was overturned, and broken dishes were strewn across the dining room floor. It was as if her picture perfect life had suddenly shattered, and here I was, picking up the pieces.
I stomped into the kitchen and set the cupcakes on the counter. “Come in here and sit down.”
Grace wandered in, wraithlike, and sat at the small kitchen table by the window. The sun shone on her face.
“What the hell happened?”
She wouldn’t look at me. Grace knew my story. A very long time ago, I had been where she was now. How could a woman let a man beat on her? The choices she had were to let it go on, or leave. It had happened to me once. The bastard had, at the very least, lost a couple of teeth, and would forever carry a broken nose as a reminder. Kitchen skillets are good for that. After giving better than I got, I left and never went back. I hoped Grace could do the same.
I sat beside her at the table and clasped her hand. “Talk to me, honey.”
She met my eyes, tears pooling in hers. “Please, just hold me.” She buried her face against my neck and burrowed into my arms. “I told him to leave. He took his stuff.” She sniffled. “He’s gone.”
I swallowed hard as I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Fuck, Grace, you have to know he is going to do this again if you let him back in.” I cupped her chin and tilted her face up to meet my eyes.
“I know.”
Grace was staring at me and, before I could react, she pressed her lips to mine. Her split lip made her wince, but she leaned in to the kiss, and we drowned in one another, if only for the moment. She still tasted like strawberries and sweetness.
Warmth curled through me as her body pressed against mine, her hands roaming along my hips. I had dreamed of this moment forever, but instead of sinking into bliss, two things ran through my mind: how long had he been hitting my girl, and when would he be back to try again?
* * *
Spare moments at the bookstore left me time to think about everything—the start of our relationship, the fateful kiss the previous spring, and the tender moments we’d shared in Grace’s house after Merle’s violent exit. Grace felt something more than friendship for me, I was sure. With Merle repeatedly in and out of her life, it was hard to know exactly what that was.
She had let him back in the house only days after he had beaten her. It was a betrayal—of me, of herself—and for a few weeks after that, I didn’t answer the phone. But some deep part of me understood the poison that invades the souls suffering from domestic violence. They made you feel like you couldn’t live without them, that they were the beginning and end of your world.
I had felt the self-doubt and the loathing that blistered up from the darkest recesses of the heart to plague me in the pitch black night of the soul. Black and blue—bruises that crept from inside and out to claim us and twist us in ways we would never expect.
I hated that Grace still had feelings for Merle, but I understood. Love has no reason; it just is. Like the way that I loved her anyway. Isn’t that what love is? To be ready to walk through the fires of Hell for the person you love and come out swinging? I did, and I would again, however and whatever she needed from me.
* * *
Grace had called me in tears and asked me to meet her at a new coffee shop down the street from the bookstore. Here we were, once again. I just wasn’t sure what circle of Hell it was going to be this time. Would I find her mottled with bruises, or would it be another invasion of her body by a cancerous menace? I didn’t know which possibility I dreaded more.
It had been a month since I’d seen Grace, and my eyes roamed her familiar features greedily. Her absence was a hole that couldn’t be filled, and my heart sang as I basked in her company.
She was pale, and her normally unruffled demeanor was noticeably frayed. She looked fragile, like she was about to break in half. Her lip was swollen, and her body bore the marks of Merle’s attentions. I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.
Grace groaned as she sat down in the patio chair next to me. “God, I guess we should have met at the coffee shop down the street. These chairs are awful.” After a moment of silence, she added, “I left him, Julie.”
“When?”
Grace relaxed against the chair, wincing as the metal chair back connected with her flesh. “This morning.”
“Oh, honey.” I reached out to touch her, then remembered my place. She was my friend, and only that. I’d made myself a promise that I would wait until she chose to cross the line. For real this time.
I sighed. I had to be at work in a couple of hours, but I needed to make sure she was all right. “So, I gather that’s not why you’re being all secretive. You already know how I feel about Merle.”
“Julie—”
“I know. I won’t say another word about him.” I gripped the paper napkin someone had left on the table and began to shred it mercilessly. My thoughts returned to the stolen moments between us that burned in my brain. The feeling of her lips on mine had sealed her place in my heart forever.
Forcing my mind back to the moment, I stared into Grace’s eyes and could see that something was very wrong.
Grace blinked, wiping at her eyes as she glanced away, pretending to check her watch. “No, that’s not why I asked you to meet me. I need to talk to you about something.”
My gut clenched. Oh God. Is she finally ready to admit how she feels about me? “Hey, I hear there’s a new ice cream shop down the street. Do you want to try a scoop before I have to go to work?”
“I don’t think so. I have to go in for an appointment this afternoon, and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep down anything I eat.”
“Appointment?” I sat back in my chair and peered at her. “For what? Are you okay?”
Grace looked down at her hands, the painted nails immaculate as always. “I was called in for a screening last month. My remission has been pretty stable up until now.” She swallowed hard as her gaze moved upward and into my eyes. “I got the call a couple of weeks ago—something came up on the scan. They needed to do another test, kind of like a biopsy.” Grace stood, and as she did, a dark bruise was revealed just above the sleeve of her blouse.
“You didn’t call me.”
“I know.” She looked away.
“He hit you again, didn’t he?” I hissed.
Not able to speak, Grace nodded.
A flash of wild rage spiraled through me. I threw the shreds of the napkin into a pile, wishing we had ordered something more than coffee. I took a sip of my latte and watched Grace with hooded eyes. Her admission called for the comfort of cheesecake. Or a fucking icepick to kill the bastard.
When she lifted her cup of cinnamon tea to her lips, she winced.
Torment ate at my insides. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. “I’ll kill him.”
Shaking her head, Grace closed her weary eyes and laid her hand on mine. “Not worth it. I kicked him out today. He won’t be back.”
“Did you at least change the damn locks this time? Remember last time?”
She stared after me as I got up from the chair. I held out my hand and helped her up.
“Come on. I’m taking you to your appointment. Fuck work, I’ll call in.” My heart thudded in my chest like it was coming undone. Cancer. Oh God. She had fought so hard to keep it at bay, had bought every damn book in the place on special diets, the works.
Grace gave me a small smile and laid her head on my shoulder. “Thanks.”
I wrapped my arm around her as we walked toward the parking lot. She moved stiffly as we stepped down onto the street, and a sickening dread wormed its way into my heart. Merle was not the kind of guy to go away quietly and neither, apparently, was her cancer. I had to somehow be strong enough to help her with both.
* * *
I hate doctors’ offices more than funeral homes, but for Grace, I went.
“Doctor Fischer, this is Julie.” Grace’s voice shook, and she blindly reached for my hand.
The grey haired doctor smiled. “Nice to meet you, Julie.” He nodded in my direction. His massive shoulders filled his white coat, and he carried himself with a confident air.
I felt Grace’s grip relax a little, but then she squeezed my hand as she focused on the folder he was holding. Did she have cancer? My heart raced; fear clogged my throat. My thoughts drifted back to the first time I had spoken to Grace at the bookstore—the bright expression on her face and the vivacious spring in her step. She never let anything get her down, not even Merle. This was a whole different ball of wax.
Grace clutched my hand tightly in her own. This appointment was about more than just a screening.
“I have the results of your colposcopy.”
Grace nodded, her expression showing anticipation and dread.
The doctor slid behind the desk and smiled as he slid the folder toward us. “The procedure went well, I think. Covering the area as we did, there is no question about the results.”
Grace reached for the file with trembling hands. I was less patient. “What does it say?” I snapped. I had to know. Then I could try and deal with the fallout.
Dr. Fischer leaned forward, and a smile bloomed across his face. “I am very happy to report that although the initial screening gave us cause for concern, your results have come back negative.”
I growled in the back of my throat. “Negative? What does that mean?”
Dr. Fischer tapped the desk and then pointed at the folder. “It means that Grace is cancer free. There is no cause for alarm.”
Grace stared at him in astonishment. “I’m clear?” she squeaked, turning to me with wide eyes. “I’m clear!” She pulled me into her arms and pressed her lips against mine. She still tasted like strawberry lip balm.
Tears pricked the insides of my eyelids. My girl was going to be okay.
The doctor cleared his throat.
Grace pulled away, a fierce grin on her face. “I’m free.”
* * *
The next morning, the phone rang at 2:33 a.m., waking me from a sound sleep. Grappling with the charger on my nightstand, I pried the cell phone off and blinked as the light from the display momentarily blinded me. It was Grace. It had only been a few hours since I had dropped her off. The after-effects of finding out she was cancer free and the kiss we shared in the doctor’s office were still pulsing through me. My girl. Mine. Finally, after months of agonized waiting.
“Can you come?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the broken breathing sounds that leaked out between her words were louder than a scream.
“Are you all right?”
“No.” Her laugh was short, desperate, and then the phone went dead.
Icy panic slid down my back as I heaved myself out of bed, for once glad I had fallen asleep in my sweats. I tugged on some shoes and drew my hair into a ratty ponytail. I snagged my purse from the kitchen table and was out to the car in minutes, my heart lurching in my chest.
The first thing I saw as I rounded the corner onto Grace’s block was the flashing lights. Police cars blocked the driveway. Merle was outside talking to the cops, blood dripping from the side of his face.
A smug hiccup of satisfaction burbled up from my darker places. My kitten had some claws after all. As I watched, the cop and Merle shared a laugh. My shock quickly turned to fury. They were laughing. It was all a joke to them. God only knew what had happened inside, and here the bastard was—yucking it up like it was some simple misunderstanding. I hissed under my breath as I parked my car and then started up the walk. The porch light was bright, and the yard was illuminated by the headlights of the squad cars and the flashing blue and red of their strobes.
Merle stopped talking to the officer and fixed me with a deadly stare. “You bitch.”
“How original,” I said dryly, and made to move past him. Just keep walking. He isn’t worth it. Keep your shit together, Julie. Grace needs you.
“Lesbian whore. You better get out of here, because if you don’t, you’re next,” he spat, his eyes narrowed and hardened with hate. He moved toward the steps, intent on blocking me from going into the house. “We were doing just fine until you stuck your nose into things that don’t concern you.”
“Get out of my way, Merle.” I moved to one side, intent on walking past him. There was no room in my life for people like him.
“I don’t think so, bitch. Get the fuck out of our lives.” Anger twisted his features into a caricature of the friendly, laughing guy he had been only moments before.
Stopping, I glowered and turned toward him. “You know what, Merle. I had someone like you once, someone who thought it made him more of man to kick me around. Gave me a black eye or two. But you know what?” Nodding to the cop, I stepped closer to Merle. “He got what he deserved, and if you ever come near Grace again, so will you.”
“What are you going to do, lesbo?” He reached forward and shoved me.
I landed hard on my tail bone in the grass, and the breath got knocked out of me in a loud whoosh. The old me would have fallen to the ground, crying. She would have stayed, waiting for the next blow to fall until the numbness set in and it just didn’t hurt anymore. The new me had had it up to here with guys who thought it was okay to hit women.
“You fucking coward,” I wheezed. Wincing, I crawled to my feet, ready for him to try it again. At least maybe this time the cops would see beyond the veneer of the jovial guy-next-door. He was anything but. My bones ached as I dragged myself upright. Merle wasn’t going to get back into that house, not while I was still standing. Fear trickled icy fingers down my back. What had he done to Grace? Where was she?
Merle’s shock at me getting up and coming back for more quickly morphed into fury. He swung a meaty fist.
The cop who had been his best buddy moments before yanked his arm, stopping him in mid-motion. “Okay, pal, that’s enough.” The officer wrenched Merle’s arms behind him and secured his wrists with a gleaming flash of handcuffs. “So, rough sex, huh? I don’t think so.”
I snorted. “Is that what he told you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The officer pushed Merle forward toward the patrol car.
“If you check her, you’ll find other bruises. He has a history of abuse.” I brushed my hands on my sweats and tried to steady my breathing.
“Julie!”
I heard the shriek, and turned to see Grace running out of the house, a female officer accompanying her.
Merle gave her a stone cold stare. “Get back in the house, bitch.”
Grace froze.
I kept my voice calm and held out my hand. “Grace.”
Sobbing, she ran to me and buried her face against my neck.
I looked at Merle, my lips curling into a satisfied smile as the officer placed him in the back of the squad car. It was over.
* * *
“You want bacon with your eggs, Miss Priss?”
“You know it.”
I looked over at my girl as she carefully folded some towels into neat little squares. She was dressed in one of my blue button down shirts until we could get her things moved over to my place. She didn’t feel safe at home anymore. There were too many shadows in the corners of the house, too many ways to find herself dwelling on the horrors of the past, and she was talking about selling the place.
New beginnings, and goodbye to lingering ghosts. Her cancer was gone, and so was the other blight on her life—Merle.
I smiled as I watched her meticulously fold the laundry. The skinny black leggings hugged her legs like a second skin.
Giving myself a mental shake, I stirred the eggs. We had settled into an unspoken arrangement: I didn’t ask about that night, and she didn’t volunteer. For three days, she had been staying in my guest bedroom, and I struggled with my longings in private. It was hell, but for her, I would do anything. She either wanted me, or she didn’t. One would make me the happiest woman on the planet; the other would probably leave me a heartbroken mess. It was up to her. It always had been. I could only hope she still felt the same as she had that day in the doctor’s office. Just thinking about it gave rise to a tiny sliver of hope.
“Okay, come on.” I flipped the eggs onto two plates, which I set on the small kitchen table.
Bringing juice, I set the glasses down next to our plates.
Grace eased herself into her chair, her body still sore, though her bruises were fading.
I winced as I parked myself in my chair. I took a bite of the crunchy bacon and enjoyed the companionable silence.
Grace sat there looking at her eggs, then picked up her fork and toyed with the yolks. “You never asked what happened.”
I paused, fork in the air, and then set the bite down on the plate with a clank. “I knew you would tell me when you were ready.”
“It was about you.” She laid her fork down and smoothed her hands over the paper towel I had set out as a placemat. “Did you know that?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” She picked up her fork again and began cutting the eggs into bite-sized pieces. “I told Merle it was over for good this time. It was you I wanted, and that was that.”
She chose me. I sat perfectly still, wrapping my mind around what she had just said. Even before that bastard hit her, she chose me.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I bit my lip. I reached for my juice with a shaking hand, and then drained the glass in one gulp. Setting the empty glass back on the table with exaggerated care, I swallowed and met her unflinching gaze. Her eyes were like summer lightning, brimming with emotion.
“Julie, say something.”
“I would have waited forever for you,” I whispered. “Since the first day you walked into the store, sitting there with your pile of books, daring me to talk to you, there has never been anyone else.”
Grace snorted as she surged up from the table, her chair falling backwards. “Well then, what are you waiting for?” She undid the top button on her shirt and sauntered into my bedroom, bold as you please.
My girl was home.
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