ANN DUSTED SHELVES that were already dust-free, plumped previously plumped pillows, and ignored the disdainful look her cat gave her. She checked the clock for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. It was too early for Erica to be punctual, never mind fashionably late. She paced the kitchen, checking the roast in the oven, the potatoes on the stove. Everything was where it should be, except her emotions. Why was she so nervous? As much as she liked Erica, she knew there was no point in getting her hopes up.
They’d met last summer at a book festival in the city—Erica was a writer, Ann an illustrator. Ann had been sitting in the back row of a seminar on genre. As the panelists had droned on about the popularity of witchcraft novels and the role of speculative fiction in deciphering the modern psyche, she had noticed the woman next to her sighing repeatedly and shifting uncomfortably. As they stood to leave, she asked, “Do you disagree?”
The woman appeared startled, then smiled shyly. “Was I that obvious?”
Ann noted the warmth of that smile and returned one of her own. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you.”
That got them chatting, and they were pleasantly surprised to learn they lived in the same town. Erica introduced herself and put out her hand. Ann responded in kind. Erica’s hand was warm, her grip firm.
“What do you write?” Ann asked as they joined the stream of avid readers and wannabe novelists leaving the hotel conference room.
“Romances.”
Ann sighed silently. “So you believe in happily ever after?”
Erica chuckled. “Hardly. That’s why I write fiction.”
That had been the first tick of attraction.
ANN ASSEMBLED THE members of her tiny household. Only the dog, Farkas, came when called. Freddy, the hamster, gave her a blank hamster stare, and Erzsebet remained in her window seat, back to Ann, but her ears were turned, so she was listening.
“Please behave—all of you,” Ann pleaded. She understood the ridiculousness of trying to bargain with these creatures, but she was desperate. “This might be my last chance.”
Farkas wagged his curly tail, Erzsebet ignored her, and Freddy, standing against the glass wall of his aquarium home, trembled. Resigned, Ann gave Freddy a comforting pat, attempting to cover some of his bare patches with the bits of fur that remained.
The first time the doorbell rang, Ann about jumped out of her skin. It was barely six o’clock, however, and it was only trick-or-treaters. Of all the evenings for Erica’s first visit, it had to be this one—Halloween—complete with a full moon. But this was the only evening that worked for both of them.
What was it Erica had said? “I make a point of ignoring Halloween.”
That had been another tick. Ann dreaded the day, or rather the evening, but participated for fear her neighbors, though few they were, would think her stranger than she already felt. “Far too commercial for me,” she’d said, to assure Erica, who did not elaborate on her remark.
ANN’S NERVES CALMED till about seven thirty. She’d suggested Erica come after eight, when the Halloween crowd lessened. With each ring of the bell, Farkas spun in circles, barking, and Erzsebet dove under the couch. Aside from the occasional Katniss Everdeen, the kids’ costumes presented the usual suspects—vampires, princesses, witches, and other assorted scary creatures. Ann handed out the candy, searching past the costumed heads to the dark street, now white with falling snow, anticipating Erica’s arrival.
She paced her living room, reflecting on this new sensation, anticipating someone’s arrival. What had led to this?
After the panel at the book festival, Ann hadn’t expected to see Erica again, but there she was at the fancy lunch, with an empty seat beside her. Ann, not knowing anyone else at the event, overcame her shyness and asked if it was taken. To her surprise and delight, Erica’s eyes lit up.
“I was hoping I’d see you again,” she’d said, pulling out the chair. “I was kicking myself for not suggesting this.”
Their conversation flowed easily, as though Ann had known Erica all her life. They compared notes on the workshops they’d attended, what authors they were thrilled to see, and found that, at least literarily, they had a lot in common. After the applause died down for the keynote speaker and people headed off to the afternoon events, Ann boldly asked Erica if she’d like to meet for coffee sometime.
That became a habit. Both worked from home, so any time “away from the office,” they joked, was treasured. Coffee turned to lunch on Fridays, a reward for a week of work, though Ann found herself sketching Erica instead of what she was hired for, and Erica confessed to daydreaming instead of writing.
Soon, they were spending Saturday afternoons together. Ann enjoyed Erica’s easy company, whether browsing the local bookshop, visiting an art gallery, or picnicking in the park. She hadn’t dared hope that it might go beyond friendship until Erica kissed her. Just last Saturday. Suddenly, the world had tilted 180 degrees, and Ann found herself unmoored. That a touch of lips could so alter the universe. The emotion of that kiss had cleaved her—hopeful but also hopeless.
IN A LAST flurry of nervous energy, Ann moved Farkas’s bed away from the window. If it weren’t snowing, she’d have considered locking him outside till morning. She struggled against her impatience to move things along with Erica and her reluctance for it to end, because it would end. That was certain. As certain as the phases of the moon.
She poured food in the dog’s bowl, ran the lint roller over the couch and herself for the eighth time, and put on an Ella Fitzgerald album. She checked the kitchen floor for signs of Erzsebet’s leftovers and gave Freddy more BrainFood® pellets. When the doorbell rang,Farkas spun in circles, barking, and Erzsebet dove under the couch. Ann grabbed the bowl of candy and flung open the door.
“Oh,” she said, stopped by the sight of Erica.
Tall, dark, and handsome had nothing on this beauty. Snowflakes dusted her short, dark curls, and dimples winked as she smiled, her eyes gleaming. Maybe it was the evening—they’d only met during the day—but Erica at night took on a whole new level of attractiveness. Ann had the weirdest sensation. Her heart soared, like in the movies and romance novels, but almost immediately, she wanted to slam the door shut. Completely terrified. But also elated. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Maybe it would be worth it, all the heartbreak that would follow.
Erica smiled. “Trick or treat?”
“Treat, I hope,” Ann said as she stood aside. “Please, come in.”
If Ann had been the praying kind, she might have uttered a prayer under her breath as she set the bowl on the table by the door.
Farkas, jumping and barking against Erica’s legs, reminded Ann of her manners. She took Erica’s coat and they performed a clumsy pas de deux as Ann reached for the hook while Erica ducked out of the way. Coat hung, Ann turned and found herself inches from Erica. Before she had time to think and stop herself, she kissed her. It was everything she remembered, that rush of joy and heat, filled with promise. Erica’s lips were cool but warmed quickly. Ann released her while the kiss still counted as chaste. Don’t get carried away, she thought.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, to ease the sexual tension.
As if sensing her shyness, Erica took a step back. “Thank you for inviting me.” Her eyes shifted from Ann to the bowl of candy. “Hmm, Jolly Ranchers, Twizzlers, and Life Savers. You know, you can tell a lot about a woman by the candy she hands out.”
“And what does my selection say?”
“No chocolate.” She held Ann’s gaze. “I would say you must be very highly evolved—no need for emotional crutches.”
Ann laughed nervously but didn’t look away. “I wish. I’m afraid all this says about me is that I hand out candy I don’t like so I won’t be tempted to eat it myself. I happen to love chocolate. The darker the better.”
“That’s a relief.” Erica reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small, elegant—dare Ann think ring-sized?—box. “This is for you.”
Their fingers brushed as Ann took the box, sending a shiver through her. She opened it to find a single, hand-made chocolate truffle from a shop she had admired on one of their walks through town. “Oh my.” A drizzle of shiny coffee-colored icing contrasted with the smooth matte surface of the perfect orb. “You know, I think I’ll set this bowl out on the porch so the kids can help themselves and we won’t be disturbed.”
Life may not be like a box of chocolates, but love might be like chocolate—a surprising burst at first, then a slow, sweet addiction.
Erica bent to pat the little dog while Ann made introductions.
“Hello, Farkas,” Erica said, letting him sniff her hand. He looked at her with black button eyes, his tongue hanging out. “Is he a Pomeranian?”
“No, a spitz. Very similar, but the face is more foxlike.”
“Ah yes, I see.” Erica knelt and Farkas rolled onto his back so she could rub his belly. “That’s quite the oversized doggy door you have,” she said, nodding toward the front door where almost the entire lower half swung on a hinge.
“Oh, that. It, uh, came with the house.”
Reality hit as Erica looked around—that door! Ann’s guard went back up and the evening might as well have been over at that point. She changed the subject by offering Erica a glass of wine. A timer sounded from the kitchen. Ann bustled about, finishing the preparations for dinner while Erica wandered the small, open rooms, expressing her admiration for Ann’s furnishings.
“This is how I pictured you,” Erica said.
“How so?”
“Living in a fairy-tale cottage in a fairy-tale wood.”
Ann let out a weak “Ha!” and let it go at that.
“Who’s the pretty kitty?” Erica cooed.
Ann turned in time to see her bending to pet the feline. “That’s Erzsebet. Careful, she bites.”
Erica paused, then chuckled. “Well, don’t all calicos?”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose they do.” The cat wove between Erica’s legs, purring loudly. Ann was stunned. “She doesn’t usually do that.”
Erzsebet flopped onto her side and stretched. Erica gave her a gentle rub. The cat, seeming to come to her senses, flipped back onto her feet and ran through the cat flap in the kitchen door and out into the yard.
“Is she a mouser?” Erica asked.
Such an innocent question.
“Yes,” Ann said. “One of the reasons I bought this house was for the big field in back.” That, and the remoteness from the neighbors. So far, there were only rumors of strange sightings, nothing certain. Ann didn’t want to have to move again.
“Now see, you’ve never mentioned you have pets,” Erica said.
“I’m sorry. Are you allergic?”
“No, I mean that I’m enjoying discovering your secrets.” Erica wrapped her arms around Ann and kissed her neck. Ann nearly collapsed. Nerves, lust, you name it. She relaxed into Erica’s arms, almost convinced everything would work out.
The kitchen opened into a small dining area. Ann had covered her scarred, garage-sale table with a cloth. She lit candles with shaking hands. The date aspect of the evening caught up to her. She knew she’d crossed the line between friendship and wanting more, but now she teetered on the brink of panic. The kisses. Both of them. Surely this is what Erica wants too, she thought. Don’t overthink this. But it was hard not to. Erica hovered by the table, smiling, clearly nervous.
“Please, sit,” Ann said. What happened to our easy friendship?
They settled in to eating. Ella crooned in the background. Erica made soft murmurings and praised the food. After a moment of silent dining, Erica broke the spell.
“So, what should we talk about?”
Silence. Ann swallowed and looked at Erica.
“Well, that was a conversation killer.”
“No,” Ann said quickly. “I was just trying to think of something we haven’t talked about yet. We’ve covered our jobs, where we live.” She took a sip of wine to buy time. “You didn’t tell me whether you grew up here or moved here.”
“I did grow up here but moved away. Don’t kids usually?”
“What brought you back?”
“My grandmother needs me.” Erica mashed her potatoes and then formed a small volcano that she filled with gravy. “She’s quite . . . elderly.”
Ann watched her move, how her fingers caressed the wine glass. She loved the volcano. It was so subconscious. She could picture her doing it from childhood. “Is it stressful or do you have a good relationship?”
“Oh, we have a great relationship. I love my gramma, so I’m happy to help her. What about you? Native?”
Ann caught a flick of deflection in Erica’s tone. “I’ve . . . moved around a lot. I grew up in New England mostly.”
“Whereabouts? I’ve never been there.”
“I was born in Salem, Massachusetts.”
“Salem. The witch trials?” Erica flinched almost imperceptibly.
“So the story goes. They actually took place in Danvers, before it was Danvers. We didn’t live there very long.”
“Military?”
“No, just itinerant. Maine for a few years, then Vermont and upstate New York, now here. My dad longed to ‘get away from it all,’ but ‘it all’ kept encroaching.”
“What’d he do?” Erica leaned in attentively, as though Ann was the only person on the planet.
“He was a carpenter. He built houses.”
“Wasn’t he sort of helping ‘it all’?”
“Good point, but that’s not how he saw it.” Fact was, he hadn’t wanted to move. It was her mother who forced the migrations. “I’m finding small towns are far less away from it all than cities.”
“Depending on what ‘it all’ is.”
“True. I like the anonymity of cities but I love the country.”
“And your mom?”
“She stayed home with me and—” Ann threw a glance toward Freddy. “They’ve both passed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ann waved her off. “They were older when they had me. They had a good life together.” She poured them both more wine. “So what about you? When you weren’t here, where did you live?”
“San Francisco.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit there.”
“I liked it. It was easy to fit in.”
“I’m jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever quite found that.”
“That surprises me. You seem quite fit in-able.”
“Why thank you.” If she only knew.
“I mean it. I’m glad to have found you.”
Another rush of attraction warmed Ann. “Me too.”
Erica seemed relaxed when talking about herself, but Ann could tell she preferred listening. And despite her nervousness about the whole date thing, Ann felt more at ease than with anyone other than immediate family.
“There’s something about you,” Erica said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Please don’t ever figure it out.
“I feel . . . comfortable with you. More so than . . . anyone.”
“I feel the same way,” Ann said. At least for now.
“I wonder why that is—that some people make us nervous and others, well, don’t.”
Ann stared at Erica, unsure of what to say. Her heart both soared and sank. Here was someone who felt comfortable with her. Did she dare let Erica in all the way?
Ann moved to clear the plates. Erica offered to help. “No, I’ve got it,” Ann said. “You’re the guest.”
“I’d rather be your friend.”
Ann swooned slightly then immediately worried Erica meant it—friends only—but if so, she wouldn’t have kissed her. Ann decided she really did think entirely too much. “In that case, grab a plate.”
THEY SETTLED ON the couch by the fire with slices of the chocolate cake Ann had spent the morning preparing, with its layer of raspberry jam in the middle. Erica took a bite and moaned. “This is so delicious.”
Ann wondered if she could ever make Erica moan like that.
When Erica offered to add wood to the fire, Ann went to get their bottle of wine from the kitchen. She returned to find Erica staring at Freddy. Ann froze.
“Is he okay?” Erica asked.
“Um, yes. He’s just old.” She stood by Erica, holding the wine bottle with a death grip on the neck. She was so used to Freddy that she had stopped noticing the scars and stitches. He lumbered, if something so small could be said to move that way, through the woodchip bedding. He had at least one toe missing from each foot. They snapped off so easily and were the devil to stitch back on.
Erica straightened. “If he wasn’t moving, I’d say he was dead. Had been for some time.”
Ann’s heart pounded. Erica gave her a warm smile, returned to the couch, and didn’t say anything more. Ann shot a glance at Farkas, but he was curled up in front of the fire. Erzsebet was still outside. She relaxed. Maybe I can get through this evening, she thought. Then, maybe, she’d try telling her. It’s not like any of it had been Ann’s choice.
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Erica asked as Ann settled beside her.
“Not really. Why? Do you think we knew each other in a past life?”
“I’ve never believed in that, but some people make me wonder. Like you.”
“Your flattery is like a spell.”
Erica stiffened. “No,” she said. “I didn’t mean that. I’d never manipulate you.”
It was as though a cold wind blew through the small house. Ann shivered. The logs in the fire shifted.
“Hold on. I was joking, but don’t you think there’s a certain magic to attraction? Why this person and not another?”
“I don’t know what it is, but it’s not magic.”
“Then kismet, or God.”
“Do you believe in God?” Erica asked.
My goodness she asks deep questions, Ann thought. “I don’t know one way or the other. Could be. Maybe not. You?”
“It’s complicated.”
Ann chuckled. “Of course it is. That’s why wars have been fought over it.”
“No,” Erica said decisively. “I don’t believe.”
So she’s an atheist, Ann thought. An agnostic herself, she found a certain comfort from uncertainty. Could be, could not be. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, so she didn’t worry about it.
“Any particular reason why?” she asked.
“Religion, any religion, is nothing more than brainwashing. A way to control others. It keeps people from realizing their own power. Their own god within.”
Ann liked the idea of a “god within.” Could it be that simple? “Intriguing. I would agree. My ancestors fled the old country to escape the abuse of such power.” She wondered how she could blurt out something that had been a family secret for generations.
“Religious persecution?”
“No, more personal.” Ann glanced at Farkas, sleeping by the fire. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the beautiful woman beside her, but she felt her guard dropping. I’ll never know unless I try. “The family story is that an ancestor, a beautiful peasant girl, was chosen by a prince. She turned him down. Rather than be humiliated, he accused her of bewitching him and cursed the family. We were driven out of town.”
“A woman stands up for herself, so automatically, she’s a witch.”
“Torches and pitchforks. The whole nine yards.”
“That was wrong,” Erica said, like it had happened last week.
“It was a long time ago. Who knows if that’s really what happened. Maybe just an allegory—power corrupts.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“What’s to stop it? I mean, maybe that’s the benefit of religion. Someone clarifying what’s okay and what’s not.”
“Hasn’t stopped religions from being corrupt,” Erica said.
“True. My goodness, how’d we get onto such a heavy topic?”
“Must be the full moon. It brings out my serious side.”
In the background, Heather Peace sang about fairy tales.
“I like your serious side,” Ann said.
“I like all your sides.”
“You haven’t seen them all.”
“I hope to.”
Ann leaned toward Erica and kissed her. “I want you to.”
The stereo switched to the Indigo Girls. Erica stood and pulled Ann into her arms. As they danced, Ann gave in to Erica’s charms, melting into her body, so warm and secure.
At midnight, Ann’s great-grandmother’s cuckoo clock chimed. She and Erica were lying on the couch together, kissing and talking softly.
Ann sighed. “It’s late. You probably want to get going, huh.”
Erica touched her cheek. “Actually . . .” She kissed Ann tenderly. “I don’t.”
“Oh.” Ann’s cheeks warmed with desire. “Oh.”
“You seem uncomfortable. Should I leave?”
Yes. “No. It’s just—it’s been a long time.”
“Me too.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, Ann rose, took Erica’s hand, and led her to the bedroom. Their lovemaking wasn’t perfect at first, Ann was so nervous. Then Erica apologized and Ann realized that she was nervous, too. That broke the spell, and Ann pushed aside her fears, let the past and the future drop away, and focused on the present before her.
Erica made Ann believe in the healing power of touch—her hands, so warm and soft. Ann felt like she was flying, transformed and released, rising past treetops and clouds and into brilliance.
LATER, A SOUND startled Ann awake. She caught her breath, then exhaled when Erica’s arms tightened around her. She listened to her lover’s breathing. My lover. My love. Neither had said it aloud, but Ann began to hope it might be possible.
The next time she woke, cool air bathed her back as Erica slipped out of bed. No. Don’t go. “You okay?”
“Just need the bathroom,” Erica said. Lit by moonlight, she pulled on Ann’s robe.
The only bathroom was off the kitchen. She would have to walk through the whole house to get there. The light of the full moon shone brilliantly through the window, reflecting off the fresh snow. The bedroom door creaked. And so it ends.
This was how it had gone down before: potential girlfriend number one ran screaming from the house (that had scared Ann celibate for two years); number two feigned food poisoning and left before dessert; the third one made it to a second date, but then didn’t return Ann’s calls; the fourth moved away (Ann thought that had been overreacting, perhaps); and the last one found it kinky, and Ann had to break up with her or run naked through the back field, howling at the top of her lungs.
Ann pulled Erica’s pillow to her and cried softly.
After what seemed like hours, during which Ann imagined all sorts of unseemly storylines involving Erica fleeing, dying from fright, or going to the authorities, the bedroom door creaked again and the mattress shifted as Erica slid back into bed.
Ann waited, curious. “Everything . . . okay?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Erica said, snuggling close, her voice tense with energy. “It was incredible.”
“What?”
Erica described how she had found Farkas curled by the fire—not in his bed, safe in the shadow of the corner, Ann lamented—and how the light of the moon was just hitting his face.
“As the moonlight spread, he changed,” Erica said, her voice filled with awe. “His fox features elongated, his soft brown coat turned gray and coarse. He grew right before my eyes.” She’d sat on the couch to watch. “He grew and grew, until he was the size and shape of a large wolf.”
Ann felt faint but stayed quiet.
“He looked right at me, like he remembered me from earlier. His eyes were so intelligent, but there was also a wildness. It was like he both wanted to curl up with me and eat me.”
Ann nodded in silent agreement.
“Then,” Erica said, “he stretched this amazing new body and charged through the dog door.” She paused while she pulled the blanket tighter around them. “Will he be all right?”
Ann was struck dumb. Erica was worried about Farkas? Not terrified of him? “He’ll be fine. He’ll run through the field, howling till morning, then he’ll come home and sleep for a day.” Ann paused. “Was . . . that all?”
“Oh, there are a bunch of eviscerated mice strewn about the kitchen.”
“Erzsebet, I’m afraid.”
“I figured. She was lapping up their blood and rolling in the gore.”
“Oh god. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Erica kissed her cheek. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
So Ann told her. “At least since my great-great-grandmother’s time, Farkas, Freddy, and Erzsebet have been handed down, generation after generation. A beastly bequest. It’s the burden of immortality.”
“Did it have anything to do with the curse you mentioned earlier? About your ancestor insulting a prince?”
“Yes,” Ann said, “but he didn’t curse the family, exactly. He cursed the family pets. Farkas became a werewolf, Erzsebet a vampire, and Freddy a . . . what? What do you call an undead hamster?”
“Zombie,” Erica said, like it made sense.
Ann felt tears well. “You don’t mind?”
Erica kissed her neck. “No. Wait till I tell you about the skeleton in my closet.”
Ann blinked. Outside, in the dim light of the first hint of dawn, a wolf howled.
She curled into Erica’s warm embrace. “Tell me, my love,” she whispered.