THE SMALL CRUISE ship drifted across a steel-colored plane, and a light fog blurred the line between horizon and sky. Mist draped the forested shore, unmarked by humans. Kate sat at the end of her bunk and leaned against the cabin window, watching three humpback whales float by, not fifty feet from the deck railing. The deep whoosh of a fourth whale, exhaling as it surfaced, sounded through the room, and a cloud of water vapor shot skyward. The massive form then slipped beneath the still water.
Kate’s breath fogged the window, and she shivered from the morning chill penetrating the glass. She decided not to wake Stephanie, snoring softly in the other bunk. The solitude fit perfectly, familiar now, almost comforting.
At six-thirty the intercom crackled to life as the ship’s naturalist gave the wakeup call, announcing that the shore visit to a rainforest would begin at eight. Stephanie groaned awake and Kate retreated to the bathroom.
“What day is it?” Stephanie called through the bathroom door.
Kate counted back. This was their second morning aboard the boat, but they’d spent a week traveling from Fairbanks down through Denali National Park then to Anchorage for their flight to Juneau and the cruise. She’d completely lost track.
“I’ve no idea,” she said, and for that she was grateful.
She sighed and reached for her toothbrush, grabbing the sink to steady herself as the ship rolled gently in a turn. Alaska had seemed like a good idea three months ago when Stephanie had suggested it. She hadn’t seen her college buddy in years and she needed the distraction. She just wished Jill was here. But that was the point. Better to be here without Jill than at home without her.
AT THE APPOINTED hour, full of French toast and coffee, Kate found herself doing a double take as she rounded the corner to the muster area and spotted the crew member handing out life jackets for the ride on the Zodiac to shore. Is that a dyke? Kate felt a nudge.
“Check ’er out,” Stephanie whispered.
Kate’s gaze lingered as the woman bantered with the guests while showing them how to put on their “PFDs,” she called them, for personal flotation device. She was unmistakable, with short, dark blond hair in a boy’s cut that was carefully parted and combed, accentuating her firm jaw line. Kate had only begun to analyze why that set off her gaydar, when the woman laughed, deep and sure. Not giggly. Her face had lit up with a broad smile, laugh lines creasing her cheeks. It triggered a tiny detonation deep within Kate.
Fellow passengers formed a line, and Kate’s peripheral vision blurred as she inched closer. Then she was next and the woman met her gaze, her eyes gray like the ocean. She said something.
“I’m sorry. What?” Kate asked, flustered.
“You might want to take your cap off,” she repeated.
Tracy, Kate read from the nametag above her left breast, merely hinted at under a fleece vest worn over her uniform.
Tracy showed her how to hold the inflation tubes aside to fit her head through the opening. Their hands brushed and Kate flinched as she took the PFD from her. She pushed her head through, then Tracy pulled the strap around her and hooked the clip.
“You’re all set.” She smiled and turned her attention to Stephanie, warning her to remove her glasses as well as her cap.
It was over so fast. Kate found herself pushed back to the rail as more people milled about. She wanted to say something to Tracy, but had no idea what. Besides, the woman was working. Kate sighed and wondered what was happening to her. Maybe it was because they’d been surrounded by heterosexuals on this trip. Was Tracy merely an oasis in the desert? She hadn’t reacted this way to a woman in, well, two years. Stephanie looked at her strangely.
“What?”
“You interested?” Stephanie nodded toward Tracy.
A chill made Kate shiver. “No.” It was reflex more than answer. She thought about taking it back, saying “maybe” instead. Stephanie would be thrilled. She’d spend the rest of the trip trying to get them together. That was the problem.
As the group headed down the stairs to the waiting Zodiac, Kate twisted around to keep Tracy in sight as long as she could, and all during the hike through the rainforest, she thought about her. When they returned to the ship, a male crew member took their PFDs. Kate looked for Tracy, but the Sea Star, with just four decks and only a hundred passengers, was plenty big enough to hide a dyke.
THE NEXT EVENING in the ship’s lounge, while the naturalist pointed to a photo of a raven projected on the screen, Kate stared through the front window, watching Tracy out on the bow until it became too dark to see. The last she had seen of her, Tracy was leaning over the rail, watching the anchor as it dropped. Another crew member manned the machine that lowered the hefty chain. Kate had no idea what ravens ate or where they lived.
When the door to the bow opened, Kate had been nodding off but looked up in time to see Tracy breeze past her, oblivious that another lesbian was thinking of her, so close by. In the nick of time, she thought to check Tracy’s left hand. No ring. She sighed.
“GOOD MORNING, SEA Star,” the naturalist announced through the cabin’s intercom. “Are you ready for a lovely morning in Tracy Arm?”
Kate startled awake by the voice. Then the words sank in. Tracy Arm? Tracy. She sat up abruptly. That was it, the perfect excuse. Today she would talk to her. She leapt out of bed and rushed through washing up.
Stephanie peered out from under her blankets as Kate got dressed. “What’s got into you?”
“Glaciers. Icebergs,” Kate said, dodging the answer. “Tracy Arm is supposed to be the best place to see ice calving off the glaciers.” She grabbed her camera and binoculars. “I’ll see you on deck.”
All morning Kate wandered the ship, alternating between looking for Tracy and staring, mesmerized by the steep walls of the narrow inlet and the towering glaciers. She craned her neck at the granite cliffs on either side that rose two thousand feet almost straight up to an azure sky, unmarked by clouds or airplanes. Below her, bits of icebergs in various shades of blue and white floated by in emerald green water. Other than the hum of the engine as the ship motored slowly toward South Sawyer Glacier, there were no sounds except occasional pops and cracks of ice breaking off, then a roar as an avalanche rolled down the face of the glacier and splashed into the water. The naturalist described the long, arm-shaped fjord, with its ninety degree bend at the “elbow,” and pointed out bare rock that just five years earlier had been covered by a glacier melting rapidly due to climate change. The ice glistened, wet and vulnerable in the bright sun, and Kate tried to comprehend a world too warm for glaciers.
Everyone, it seemed, was out on deck, except for the elusive lesbian crew member. By noon, Kate despaired of ever seeing her again. Then, right after lunch, there she was, in a sweatshirt and jeans, binoculars around her neck, playing tourist like the rest of them. Of course, she couldn’t work 24/7. It took almost an hour for Kate to gather the courage to approach her, standing by the rail on the bow.
“So, Tracy, what do you think of Tracy Arm?” she asked, immediately convinced that was the dumbest possible question.
Tracy looked confused for a second then smiled shyly. “Ah, the nametag.” She patted her sweatshirt, but there was nothing there. “I like it. You?”
Kate nodded in agreement and returned the smile, relieved. “Off duty?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s nice. I’m Kate.”
“Tracy.”
“I know.”
“Right!” Tracy blushed.
Oh my, Kate thought. She’s nervous too.
“This your first trip to Alaska?” Tracy asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“I live here.” Tracy paused, then added, “In Juneau. Not, you know, here . . .” She nodded to take in the boat and relaxed against the rail.
“So, how’d you get this job?”
Tracy met Kate’s gaze then looked away. “Well, that’s kind of a long story, but it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” She looked back at Kate. “The short version is, they were hiring and I was available.”
“I’d love to hear the long version.”
Tracy’s eyes narrowed and her smile vanished. The effect gave Kate chills. What had she said? Was Tracy angry?
People began to press around them. Things were getting interesting at the glacier. The naturalist was pointing at something. Seals on an ice floe. That was all.
“I once dated a woman who sailed,” Kate said as a way to broach the reason she had wanted to talk to Tracy in the first place. Kindred spirits and sisterhood.
“Yeah? So, you don’t?”
Oh, no, Kate thought, she’ll think we have nothing in common. “I’d love to learn,” she said.
“I’m sure you could take lessons.” Tracy’s clipped, serious tone sounded like a door closing. She turned toward the seals and raised her binoculars.
Kate lost her nerve. “Yeah, maybe someday I will.”
“WHAT DAY IS it?” Stephanie asked.
Kate ignored her friend. She hadn’t slept well and woke in a foul mood. She checked her watch. The fifth. August fifth. Fuck. This was why she hadn’t cared that they’d lost track of time. This was why she had pushed to go on the trip this week. She wanted to forget, to be somewhere else today. But it didn’t help.
“Is it Wednesday?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes!” Kate threw the covers off and sat up. “God, can you let it go?”
“What’s bugging you?” Stephanie teased.
Kate glared at her. “Fuck you.” She headed toward the bathroom but stubbed her toe, letting out a frustrated howl. “God damn it!”
The boat turned at that moment and Kate lurched against the desk, her hip slamming into the chair. She burst into tears and sank to the floor.
Stephanie went to her. “Hey, what’s going on?” She put her arms around Kate and held her while she sobbed.
It took several minutes before Kate regained control, but when she tried to speak, fresh tears flowed. She rocked against Stephanie who cooed soothingly. When she stopped crying, she lay in her friend’s arms, quiet, afraid to speak.
Finally, she took a deep breath. “It’s August fifth.”
“Oh, shit. Your anniversary.”
“I was hoping I would be so distracted I wouldn’t notice.”
“I’m sorry. I should just shut up.”
Kate sighed. “It’s not your fault.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, to dam the flow, to no avail. “Why does it still hurt so much? I know she’d want me to move on. She wouldn’t want me . . . like this.”
“No, she wouldn’t. But it’s not that easy.”
Kate relaxed against Stephanie and they sat, quiet.
“I’m so tired of this,” she said after a few minutes. “I’ve completely forgotten who I used to be and no one else remembers either.”
Stephanie wiped Kate’s wet cheek. “I remember. You’re the one who lights up a room just by walking through the door. The one who makes me laugh so hard I cry.”
“Not any more, I don’t.”
“You will again. I promise.”
They remained on the floor while the voice crooned through the intercom about the day’s port visit.
“Would you mind if I didn’t go into Sitka today?” Kate said.
“Sure. We can stay here.”
“No, I mean me. I’d like to be alone today.
“I don’t know . . . it doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“Then I won’t ask. I want to be alone today. I’m tired. I’ll probably sleep through it all.”
Reluctantly, Stephanie agreed. Kate crawled back into bed and pretended to fall asleep while Stephanie got dressed. She felt a light kiss on her forehead and heard the door close softly. The tears returned.
On this day three years ago, Kate had stood next to Jill on a sunny patch of grass in Boston’s Arnold Arboretum, sweating and breathless. Their friend Margaret, a minister, had performed the ceremony. Kate remembered how serene Jill had appeared, except for the death grip she had on Kate’s hand. They were surrounded by friends and family. Jill’s mother wept joyfully. Kate’s father wiped tears of pride. It was a day she had never expected to be allowed to have. A legal marriage to the woman she loved more than life itself. They had written their own vows—to love each other forever, because they knew the physical world could not contain what they felt.
Ten months later, a drunk driver ran a red light and broadsided Jill’s car, killing her instantly the doctor told Kate. She thought for sure she would continue to feel Jill’s presence, might even see her in dim corners of their favorite room—the den with the woodstove. But Kate had felt nothing. No sensations, no vibrations, only the chilling, dark sorrow that encased her. It was as though time itself had stopped, like Jill’s wristwatch, frozen at the moment of impact.
KATE WOKE WITH a pounding headache. Thirsty and hungry she dragged herself out of bed, got dressed, and went in search of food. The ship was quiet. Most of the guests had gone ashore. She made a sandwich from the scraps left on the lunch buffet, poured a cup of coffee, and found a table outside at the back of the boat. Warm sunlight eased her aching sinuses. When she finished eating, she leaned back and stared over the rail.
Sitka Harbor buzzed with activity as fishing boats chugged past and floatplanes took off from the watery runway. On the shore, steep green mountains appeared to rise right out of the streets. A swirling breeze mingled the scents of spruce trees and diesel fuel.
Movement caught her eye. Toward the front of the boat and silhouetted in the bright light, a deckhand cleaned cabin windows. Smooth arm strokes swept wide arcs. The person moved a window closer. Up, down, side to side. Spray, squeegee, wipe the smudges. Next window. The rhythm lulled Kate such that she was startled when the person, having reached the end of the row, turned to her and smiled.
“Sitting out Sitka?” Tracy asked.
Kate smiled back, confident her sunglasses hid her puffy red eyes. “Something like that.”
“You’re not missing much.” Tracy leaned against the wall.
“Really? I heard it was terrific. Paris of the Pacific, according to your company’s brochure.”
Tracy smiled shyly. Kate found that endearing, yet heartbreaking.
“It’s a tourist town,” Tracy said. “Not my style, anyway.”
For longer than necessary, Tracy held Kate’s gaze, squinting in the bright light. Kate wished she wasn’t wearing sunglasses so Tracy could see her eyes. But not under these conditions.
“I didn’t mean to be so brusque yesterday,” Tracy said at last.
“Were you?”
“About why I’m here.”
“Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Mind if I join you?” Tracy glanced toward the empty chair at Kate’s table.
“Not at all. Please do.” Kate silently cursed that today, of all days, Tracy wanted to chat.
Tracy sat down, placing her squeegee and spray bottle on the deck beside her. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” She gazed out over the harbor. “Look, there’s an eagle.”
Kate followed Tracy’s arm to where she pointed but had to force herself to look beyond the muscled forearm, large watch, and blunt fingers. The iconic bird, with its white head and tail, sat on a post at the end of a nearby dock.
“They’re common as crows around here, but I never get sick of them,” Tracy said. She lowered her hand into her lap.
Kate looked back at Tracy and admired her profile. Tracy turned and met her gaze. “Do you still want to know why I’m here?”
“Uh, sure.”
Tracy leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “A story as old as the sea. My girlfriend cheated on me. I left in a huff, which left me homeless. So I took this job. Thought a change of scenery might clear my head and distract me.”
A knot formed in Kate’s stomach. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” She straightened. “Well, I should get back to work. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t want you to think I was rude.” She bent to get her cleaning supplies and stood. “Enjoy the day.”
Then she was gone. Kate let out a breath, wondering what had just happened. Had Tracy wanted her to know she was single? To what end? She hadn’t pursued it further.
A warmth penetrated Kate. A connection had been made. A bit of ice had broken off the wall and fallen into the sea, its ripples reaching out.
WHEN STEPHANIE FOUND her later, she had moved to the top deck to stay in the sun, now angled low over the Pacific.
“How was Sitka?”
Stephanie pulled up a chair. “Kind of touristy.”
Kate laughed. “So I’ve heard.”
“How are you?”
Kate told her about Tracy.
“So you are interested.” She smirked.
Kate shook her head. “I don’t think I am. She was this kind of mythical dyke, but now that we finally talked, if you could call it that, I don’t feel so obsessed with her.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Stephanie said. “She’s cute.”
“Oh, please. We live on opposite sides of the country. What would be the point?”
Stephanie looked at her. “True. You wouldn’t move cross country for me. I just thought maybe you’d learned something from that.”
Kate’s breath caught. “What? Are you still pissed about that—after ten years? We’ve talked about it. I thought we were okay.”
“I am. I’ve moved on. You’re the one who hasn’t.”
“Um, remember Jill? I think that qualifies as moving on.”
“I mean playing it safe. You say you’re tired of mourning. Well, stop.”
Kate looked at her friend, stunned. Stephanie’s frank honesty had attracted Kate to her in the first place, but also pushed her away. Friends, not lovers, they’d decided in the end, when they’d realized it wouldn’t work, after Stephanie took the job in Seattle and Kate wouldn’t go with her. “It’s not that easy . . . I’m not sure I know how—”
“I know.” Stephanie gave Kate’s hand a squeeze. “But even here in the frozen north, summer arrives, flowers bloom. Look around.” Kate noticed the eagle still on the post. “There’s beauty to behold. Don’t hold yourself back because you think it’s expected of you.”
KATE FLOPPED ONTO the couch in the reception area of the Cruise Alaska office in Juneau, too exhausted to be angry that the airline had screwed up her reservation. “Rich,” from the cruise company, was trying to sort it out, but there were no more flights for the day so he was also trying to find her a hotel room. Kate closed her eyes. She dozed, but woke with a start when someone sat beside her.
“I’m sorry. I was trying not to wake you.”
Tracy. In full butch glory—cargo shorts, T-shirt, and Tevas. Kate wore the same thing all summer, so wondered what made that butch. But on Tracy, the effect accentuated her inner male. Perhaps aided by her furry legs. “Hi. What brings you here?” She felt warm suddenly.
“Collecting my paycheck. I thought you guys’d be gone. You doing some sightseeing?”
“Hardly. Steph’s probably home by now. I got delayed.” She explained the lost reservation.
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” Tracy wrinkled her brow and glanced around the office then back at Kate. “So . . . You aren’t together?”
“No. She lives in Seattle. I live in Boston. Just old buddies.”
Tracy shook her head as a blush spread across her cheeks. “Shoot. I just assumed . . . Sorry.”
Kate smiled and regarded Tracy. All this time, she had thought they were a couple. How ironic.
“You okay?” Tracy asked. “Where are you staying?”
“Rich is looking for a room. I’m fine.”
Tracy’s red deepened and spread down her neck. “Well, you know . . . You’re welcome to stay with me.”
Kate suppressed a chuckle. “Where? Under a bridge? I thought you were homeless.”
“Oh, that. No, I got a gig cat-sitting for a friend who’s working the next three tours. His apartment’s not far. We could walk. It has two bedrooms . . .”
Tracy was a near stranger. Kate knew she had no business going to some strange apartment with a stranger. Yet Tracy had also begun to stir the most faint, vaguest feelings inside her. Feelings she had been sure were locked away forever in a permafrost of grief. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”
“Great. Shall we—?” Tracy stood and hoisted Kate’s bag onto her shoulder.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Kate said.
Tracy dropped the bag. “Sorry. Habit.”
Juneau consists of a sliver of flat land along the shore with the rest of the town built up the side of a steep mountain ridge. After only a block of climbing, Kate had to stop and rest. Without saying anything, Tracy took her bag. Kate didn’t protest this time.
“Sorry about the hill,” Tracy said when they reached the apartment and Kate bent over to catch her breath while Tracy dug the keys out of her pocket.
Inside, they were greeted by a large, orange cat. It flopped to the floor in front of them and rolled over. Kate bent to rub its belly.
They toured the apartment together, then Kate dumped her bags in the spare room and lay down on the bed. It was dusk when she woke. She blinked and looked around to orient herself, still feeling the gentle roll of the ship although she was on land now. In some guy’s apartment. With a woman. She checked her cell phone. Rich had left a message that she was on standby for the morning flight or he could get her a seat on the afternoon one if she called him by five. She checked her watch. Seven o’clock. Too late.
She wandered through the quiet apartment. Passing the master bedroom, she spotted Tracy, likewise passed out on a king-sized bed, still in her shorts and T-shirt, the cat—Bill, Tracy had said—curled against her hip. Kate leaned against the doorjamb. Tracy lay on her stomach, face turned to the door, peaceful, beautiful. She wondered what it would be like to slip a hand under her shirt. To rub her back. Kate surprised herself. Tomorrow they’d part ways and never see each other again. A wave of sadness washed through her. She pushed away from the door and headed to the kitchen.
She found Cheerios and milk and was eating at the table when Tracy stirred. Kate heard a door close, the toilet flush, the faucet run.
“Sleep well?” she greeted Tracy when she came into the kitchen.
“I guess so.” Tracy looked at the empty cereal bowl. “I’m not much of a host.”
“Don’t worry about it. I fell asleep, too.”
Tracy started opening cabinet doors. “That one, over the toaster,” Kate said. “I’ve already ransacked the place.”
“Thanks.”
“Spoons are by the dishwasher.”
Tracy was smiling as she sat across from Kate. She poured the milk, sprinkled some sugar on the cereal, and looked around as though searching for something. “Napkins anywhere?” she asked.
Kate shook her head. “Not that I could find.” She handed Tracy the paper towel that had been in her lap. “Here. I was neat.”
Such easy domesticity. Kate felt a mysterious cramp in her belly, unclear if it was a good thing or not. She told Tracy about Rich’s message.
Tracy nodded, then finished chewing. “If you’re interested, I could show you around Juneau in the morning.”
“Sure. So, did you live here? In Juneau . . . with . . .”
“Yeah.”
“Any worries you’ll run into her?”
Tracy was still.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Yes, I am worried. Running away doesn’t really solve anything, does it? Just puts it off. I suppose I’ll have to deal with her at some point. But frankly, I’m more pissed than hurt.”
Tracy’s smile spread warmth throughout Kate. The hairs on the back of her head tingled.
“So, what do you run away from?” Tracy asked.
Kate looked at her, startled. “Excuse me? Are you a shrink, too?”
“Just nosy. On the boat the other day, you looked like you were either hung over or had been crying. I thought maybe you’d had a fight with your missus. Guess I was wrong. I felt bad for you and wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.”
“Do you ever get so tired of playing a role that you just want to cry?”
Tracy looked puzzled. “What role are you playing?”
“I was just tired, that’s all.”
In the silence that followed, Kate relaxed. Tracy placed no demands on her, had no expectations. She was easy to be with.
“Feel like going for a walk?” Tracy asked when she finished eating. “I need to get some groceries.”
“Can we skip the hills?”
“’Fraid not. Juneau’s pretty much all hills.”
RAINFOREST FOODS WAS a hippy natural foods store, and Kate liked it immediately. They entered near a buffet of soups and salads. Her hunger returned with the aroma of pizza under a warming lamp. “Want some?” she asked as Tracy grabbed a basket.
“Sure,” Tracy said. She headed to the produce section.
While Kate busied herself finding a container and cutting slices, she glanced over at Tracy, the once mythical dyke now squeezing tomatoes and sniffing peaches.
They chatted as they wandered the aisles. Tracy’s father had been a harbor master, that was why she was interested in working on the cruise ship. “I grew up around boats.”
“In Alaska?”
Tracy shook her head. “I’m from Cape Cod. I sometimes think about moving back East. Maybe Provincetown,” she said with a knowing wink.
Kate felt a sudden queasiness. Don’t come to Massachusetts, Tracy. We have drunk drivers. Please stay alive.
An awkward silence followed and Kate figured Tracy would be expecting her story. But her grief closeted her. Chit chat while wandering a grocery store aisle wasn’t intended to include a description of your wife’s death from being crushed by a Ford F150 pickup truck. The last time Kate saw Jill, it was to identify her body in the morgue.
BACK AT THE apartment, armed with pizza and beer, they sat on the floor in the living room and listened to music from Tracy’s iPod hooked up to the stereo.
“You don’t talk much about yourself. Is there a reason?” Tracy asked as she sipped her beer. “Or maybe I just go on too much myself.”
“No, you don’t.” Kate looked at her then away. “I just haven’t been able to figure out how to talk about . . . well . . .” She sighed, tried looking into Tracy’s oceanic eyes, but lowered her gaze to her plate. “My wife died two years ago. In a car accident. And it seems like time stopped at that point and nothing has happened that would interest anyone. And I’m tired of being the tragic widow, but there’s nothing else to say, and I don’t know how to say that.”
Tracy set her beer on the coffee table and wiped her mouth. “I think you just did.”
Neither spoke while the Dixie Chicks crooned in the background about easy silence and peaceful quiet and suddenly Kate wanted to laugh. That was all it took? Tracy hadn’t looked at her with pity or said the usual, I’m sorry for your loss, it must have been hard, and for that Kate was grateful. She popped the last bit of pizza into her mouth and savored the squish of the artichoke, the bite of the garlic, and the aromatic parmesan. It was the first time she had talked about Jill without crying.
Tracy leaned back against the couch and stretched her legs out. Kate felt an urge to touch them, see if the curls were soft or wiry.
The iPod shuffled on to a peppy k. d. lang tune and the topics of Kate’s deceased wife and Tracy’s ex-girlfriend sank beneath a surface of casual conversation. They traded coming out stories, family histories, and anecdotes of college life and jobs. At odd moments during brief pauses, Kate imagined kissing Tracy, but it was such a foreign sensation that she couldn’t find a way to act on it before the opportunity passed.
As midnight approached, Tracy suggested they call it quits before their sleep cycles got more out of whack. Time had begun to move forward again, much to Kate’s dismay. Tomorrow she would leave and Tracy would be relegated to memory or a slowly dwindling e-mail friendship.
AFTER BREAKFAST, TRACY went to finish unpacking and Kate called Rich.
“Good news,” he told her. “I’ve got you on the two-fifty flight this afternoon. I’ll pick you up at one.”
Kate ended the call and looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty. She called Margaret, back in Boston, to give her the new flight information, but offered to take a cab.
“No dice,” Margaret said. “I want first dibs on details. Any shipboard romances?”
Kate cringed. Margaret alternated between offering assurances that God was watching over her with a plan and baldly pushing her into dating again. “Nothing to report, Reverend,” Kate said with a sigh.
The call ended, she looked around the empty kitchen. A sense of urgency filled her, but not what to do about it. She went to Tracy’s doorway and watched her move around the room, humming to herself, dropping clothes into a laundry hamper. Bill took a bath in her now-empty duffle on the floor. Kate cleared her throat.
Tracy stopped and looked at her. “All set?”
Kate nodded.
“I can give you a lift to the airport.”
“You don’t have to. Rich said he’d come by at one.”
Tracy remained still and quiet. It was as though energy passed between them, a signal, but one that Kate couldn’t interpret. Her heart began to pound. “Tracy.”
“Yes, Kate?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “We’re two ships passing in the night, and there’s not much time left, so I’m just going to say what I want here. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.” She hooked her thumbs in her pockets. Her voice shook. “I’ve been watching you for a week now, wondering what it would be like to feel your arms around me. And I just thought, if there was any chance you were—”
Before Kate could finish, Tracy crossed the room and wrapped her in a firm hug. Oh, God! Kate’s knees weakened, but Tracy held her. She marveled at how solid Tracy was. Jill had been so slender. Fragile. Just a slip of a girl. Tracy’s muscles made her soft, not hard, which Kate had not expected. She burrowed her face in Tracy’s shoulder, her shirt smelling briny, like low tide. She slipped her hand underneath to rub her back.
When Tracy loosened the hug, Kate kissed her hard but let up quickly when she felt how soft and gentle the return kiss was. Two years of frozen emotion melted in a matter of seconds. Kate stopped thinking entirely as Tracy lifted her off her feet and lowered her onto the bed. Fumbling with each other’s buttons and zippers, she lost track of where she ended and Tracy began until finally they were both naked and she felt Tracy’s skin against hers. Warm and alive. With each kiss and touch, Tracy poured life back into her and she absorbed it gratefully, hungrily. The only thought that intruded was, don’t cry.
It was Tracy who cried. Just a little. Enough for Kate to notice. She wiped the tear. “Maybe you were a little more hurt than you thought,” she whispered.
“It’s not her I miss,” Tracy said softly. “It’s what we never had.”
Later, she lay in Tracy’s arms, warm and sleepy. Tracy kissed her hair and played with her fingers. Kate looked over at the clock. Eleven. Now she wanted to cry.
“Let me take you to the airport,” Tracy said, then kissed her neck.
“I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Kate shifted so she could look at Tracy. “There’s something I probably should have told you. Before . . . well . . .” She felt Tracy tense. She touched her cheek and smiled. “Nothing infectious.” Tracy didn’t move, but an artery in her neck began to pulse. Kate turned back, afraid to watch Tracy’s face as she completed her confession. “I don’t want to be a ship passing in the night. I don’t do one-night stands.”
She felt Tracy relax and exhale. “Neither do I. Or one-morning stands.”
Kate turned. Tracy was smiling, her eyes wet.
“When do you have to be back?” Tracy asked.
Kate thought about what that meant. “Well, Monday, I guess.”
“So you could stay another day.”
Kate nodded. “I need to call Rich.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Then I need to call Margaret again.”
“Will she mind?”
“Not when I tell her why.”