Read September Canvas Online

Authors: Gun Brooke

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Love Stories, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Women Television Personalities, #Lesbian, #Lesbians, #Vermont, #Women Illustrators

September Canvas (31 page)

BOOK: September Canvas
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Deanna met Angela’s eyes over the table, and suddenly she swore she could read her mother’s thoughts.
This is what having a family is like. 
You cry, you tease, you fight, you reconcile. You’re together.
Something cold and barren in Deanna’s chest dislodged. Faythe’s arrival in her life had loosened it, and now it broke off and began to melt.

The loneliness she’d carried like an icicle through her heart the last two years was gone. Instead of bleeding out, like she’d feared she would if she let anyone close again, happiness filled her to the brim.

She took Faythe’s hand under the table and wanted to tell her what had just happened and how she felt about her, but knew she had to wait until they were alone.

* * *

Faythe stood on the patio, resting her forearms on the railing. The lake was mirror calm and the moon reflected its pale light in the water.

She and Deanna had just waved good-bye to the Bodells. Pammie and Savannah had retired to their room, where they planned to spend the next few days before they left for New York. Savannah was going to stay with Pammie at the small apartment she shared with a friend while she got her life in order.

How many times had Faythe stood by the patio railing like this since she arrived in Grantville, inhaling the fresh, crisp air, with a lot on her mind? This was where she’d seen Deanna the first time, a lonely figure standing on the deck of her cabin. She’d slammed her fists into the railing, a gesture born from a frustration that Faythe couldn’t comprehend back then. Deanna walked up and wrapped her arms around Faythe.

“You’re far away.”

“No, not really. Actually, I was just thinking.”

“Yes?”

“I keep thinking we need to talk, you know, really talk, but something always comes up. Your stuff or mine.”

“This time my whole family came up.”

“And that was a good—no, a great thing.” Faythe turned within Deanna’s embrace. “It’s just that—and this is going to sound totally selfish—but the closer you’re getting to your family, the farther away I’m becoming from mine. I’m not begrudging you this new chance, you know that, right?”

“I know.” Deanna held Faythe close, stroking her back. “And I wish I could do something for you the same way you did for me.”

“Don’t think that’s possible, babe.” Faythe tried to smile encouragingly, but her lips felt rigid and she could only manage to grimace. “You have a great set of people in your family, even the girls, when push comes to shove. My folks, well, they’re not going to change anytime soon, I fear.”

“I know you feel abandoned.”

“How do you know that?” Faythe was surprised at how astutely Deanna read her.

“Because that’s how I’d feel, how I have for quite some time. Now that things are different for me, it’s not hard to spot the same feeling in you. Just know this, darling, you’re not alone.”

“I know. I know I’m not.” Faythe quickly wiped away a tear. “And I also know that nothing has changed in my life, when it comes to my parents. They’ve acted this way for more than ten years, and before that, they were only putting on a show to keep up appearances.”

“You’re the one who’s changed.” Deanna kissed Faythe’s temple softly. “You’re the one who sees things differently, because you’ve taken a step, several steps, actually, in the right direction.”

“Is it the right direction when this new path leads me away from my family?”

“Yes, because you have to listen to your own heart, what you want, and you can’t keep fulfilling everybody else’s idea of what they think you should do.”

“I suppose.” Faythe buried her face into Deanna’s neck. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. There might come a day when my parents are willing to accept that I’m in charge of my own life. I might be cynical, but I have a feeling that this’ll only happen if I become a bestselling author. You know, something they could brag about.”

“You’re worth bragging about no matter what.” 

Faythe chuckled despite her solemn mood. “I am, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Glad you think so.” Faythe leaned her head against Deanna’s shoulder. “I guess only time will tell if they’ll come around. I don’t think I’ll ever stop dreaming of it.”

“Like you said the other day. We never stop hoping to be loved and validated by our parents.” Deanna’s voice was filled with tenderness.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for it, though. I need to move on with my life and that brings me to the other thing I was thinking of. Us.” Faythe tipped her head back and studied Deanna’s strong features. “We’ve come so far, in such a short time, really, and maybe that’s why it feels to me that it’s been longer than it has.”

“Where are you going with this?” A hitch in Deanna’s voice told Faythe she needed to be clearer and faster.

“You mean everything to me, Deanna.” She ran her hands up Deanna’s chest and around her neck. Pulling her down, she kissed her thoroughly, exploring the sweet softness that was Deanna’s mouth until they were both oxygen deprived. “I know you’ve wondered if I would ever be ready to commit. And I’ve certainly asked myself that question a million times.”

“And?”

“I’m still scared. I don’t have any frame of reference when it comes to relationships. I mean of the lasting kind.”

“So?” Deanna nibbled at Faythe’s neck, kissing here and there in a way that nearly made Faythe’s knees collapse.

“So, if you want to risk hooking up with a girl who’s a total newbie at this, I have something important to tell you.”

“I’ll risk it.” Deanna raised her head. “What do you want to tell me?”

“Deanna.” Faythe clasped her hands behind Deanna’s neck to keep them from trembling and to help support her trembling legs. “I love you. I love you and I want to be with you. Live with you. Wherever you want.”

“Faythe!” Deanna nearly lifted Faythe off the ground when she hugged her close. “Damn it, Faythe. I love you too. I love you so much. I have from the moment I saw you.”

“You did, you know.
See
me, I mean,” Faythe said, looking into Deanna’s eyes. “When you drew my portrait, I realized that somebody really saw me, the essence of me, for the first time.” She coughed against the silly tears that ran down her cheeks and into her mouth. “I can’t believe you love me back. I really can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I, but I’ll take your word for it.” Deanna kissed Faythe again, this time with a slow passion that made it impossible to stay erect. Faythe collapsed against Deanna, who caught her and eased her onto a deck chair where someone, it had to be Deanna, had placed soft pillows and a large fleece blanket. On a small side table two crystal glasses sat next to a bottle of wine.

“I thought we could stay out here for a while and be cozy.”

“What a great idea.” Faythe let go of Deanna only long enough for them to arrange themselves in a comfortable position of tangled arms and legs. Deanna tucked the blanket around them and poured some wine. As she handed Faythe a glass she looked stunning in the moonlight, the most beautiful sight Faythe had ever seen.

“To Miranda and to Savannah, who showed such courage today, each in her own way.” Deanna raised her glass.

“To your family, who showed what they’re made of when push comes to shove.”

“To Pammie, who set the ball rolling.”

Faythe pondered the next toast. “To us.”

“You’re so right.” Deanna clinked her glass against Deanna’s. “To us.”

They sipped their wine and, after that, they had no need for any more words, merely a strong need for each other. Then, as the moon traveled over the velvet black sky, they soothed their passion temporarily; and cocooned in sheets and blankets with Deanna, Faythe felt happier and more loved than ever before.

Epilogue

New York City, New York

“Pammie!” Slender arms wrapped around Pammie as she stepped inside the door to their minuscule apartment. “I got the job!” Savannah said and hugged her fiercely. “At the local animal shelter. We can keep the apartment!”

Pammie whooped and swung Savannah around. “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m serious. They’re not going to pay me a fortune, but enough for half the rent and to help with the groceries and stuff.”

“Now we can plan for your application to Columbia. We can sit down and…what?” Pammie travelled from exhilaration to fear in a nanosecond.

“I want that. I really do. But I’m afraid of asking for too much.” Savannah closed her eyes and a small tear ran down her cheek. “I’m so happy with you, but I don’t deserve it. I stirred up all of Grantville a month ago and then just left my parents to deal with the mess.”

“Hey, sweetie. Come here. You need to hear a few truths. Listen up.” Pammie took Savannah’s hand and led her to the small couch in their one-room apartment. Savannah curled up against her, their habit after living together for a month after Pammie’s roommate left unexpectedly. “You say you left your parents to deal with things. True. But it was their situation to deal with. Well, your mother’s, anyway. You started this mess, and you’ve atoned for it and apologized to the person you hurt. Your mother, on the other hand, deliberately acted in a criminal way when she blackmailed Deanna to cover up the truth. Writing your story in the paper, which was a very smart way to tell everyone the truth, if I may say so myself—”

“It was your smart idea.” Savannah kissed Pammie’s shoulder. “Very efficient. Very scary.”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m on a roll. Where was I? Oh, yeah, when you pulled the plug on her scheme, you saved little Miranda from being another pawn in her game to get you married to a rich, prominent young man. You couldn’t have lived with yourself, knowing she’d gone after a defenseless autistic kid. It would have killed your lovely spirit forever.”

“You’re right.” Savannah shuddered. “And she would have.” She said the last part with such sorrow, Pammie squeezed Savannah tight.

“You’re not her. You’ve proven that a thousand times over. You’re nothing like her.”

“I suppose. After that phone call from Dad when he said she’s telling everybody she has no daughter after my betrayal—”

“Stop, stop.
Her
betrayal.”

“I think he agrees with her. Or he doesn’t dare not to, after following her lead for so many years.” Savannah looked stricken. “She always said she got him elected, and it’s probably true.”

“I’m not so sure you’re right. In time, your dad may bring about a reconciliation, even if that seems impossible right now.”

“Oh, Pammie. Thank you. Thanks. I needed some reassurance.”

“I’ll reassure you every day if that’s what it takes to keep you with me.” Pammie looked down at Samantha. She was so ethereally beautiful. They were living together, and sleeping together, but Pammie hadn’t dared take that last step into full intimacy yet. They had kissed and cuddled, and occasionally touched each other’s breasts through their clothes. Pammie longed to see Savannah’s naked body and touch every single inch of her.

“I never want to leave you. I love you, Pammie. Surely you know that.” Drawing patterns on Pammie’s jeans-clad thigh, Savannah ignited a fast-burning fire.

“God knows I love you too, Savannah. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“I know. And I’m grateful you haven’t given up on me.”

“How could I? You’ve spoiled me for everyone else.”

“I have?” Savannah’s eyes twinkled and she snuggled closer again, looking up at Pammie. “So does that mean you find me attractive?”

“Attractive? Are you kidding me? You’re the most beautif—” Pammie started, stunned that Savannah might think differently. Then she saw the twinkle multiply and turn into a full-blown glitter. “Oh, you brat!” She towered over Savannah and kissed her as a mock punishment, a kiss that quickly turned scorching hot. Savannah tugged at her, and suddenly her hands were underneath Pammie’s clothes, searching, caressing.

“I love you, and I want us to be more. Be together. For real.” Savannah’s eyes darted back and forth between Pammie’s. “You want me, right?”

“Do I ever.” Pammie held Savannah’s face between her hands and kissed her face all over before seizing on her mouth again. “Why don’t we do our magic and turn this lumpy couch into a lumpy bed, and I’ll show you just how much I love you.”

Savannah was up on her feet before Pammie could finish her sentence, already pulling at the cushions.

* * *

“Mmm, nice, very nice.” Faythe leaned back against Deanna where they sat in her hot tub on the semi-glassed-in balcony of her Manhattan penthouse apartment. It was early November and cold for the season, but they were chin-deep in hot water, overlooking the many lights of the houses surrounding them. Deanna had been sure she wouldn’t like living in the city, but the view from Faythe’s balcony was spectacular.

The whole neighborhood had a small-town feel to it, which surprised her. People were, generally speaking, nice, and it was such a welcome change to live a bit anonymously in a big city, after being the talk of the town for years.

“Glad you remembered to turn off the outdoor lights this time. Didn’t like imagining any telescope-lens-equipped paparazzi aiming their cameras at us from the rooftops,” Deanna said drily.

“Well, live and learn.” Faythe waved her hand in the air. “Yikes, too cold.” She hastily dipped it under the water again. “Brrr…how we’re ever going to get out of here, I don’t know. Can’t remember it being this cold last time.”

“Could be because we were busy running from the paparazzi on the opposite rooftop.”

“Could be.”

“So what was your big news, darling?” Deanna massaged Faythe’s shoulders.

“They want me to write a book about the drama that took place in Grantville.”

“Oh.” Deanna didn’t know how to react at first.

“I won’t unless you say it’s okay, and the same goes for Savannah and your mother. I told the publisher that.” Faythe scooted around and rubbed her cheek against Deanna’s shoulder. “I have plenty of other offers, so you have to be completely honest with me. If you say you’d rather I don’t, then I’ll move on to plan B. You’re far more important to me than any book deal.”

“So, they want you to write about it as nonfiction?”

“I can choose whichever format. If I want to do it as a novel, they’re still interested.”

BOOK: September Canvas
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