Homecoming (51 page)

“Done. Will you and Kristen pick me up something? I trust your taste.”

“Excited!” she said, wriggling like a puppy. “I haven’t been to New York in at least two years. Maybe three. And that was just one day before I went to The Netherlands.”

“You’ve been to The Netherlands?”

“Museums. Me.” She interlaced her fingers. “They’ve got some great ones. I went with a friend from the Gardner. I’m kind of a Van Gogh nut, so I was in heaven.”

“I want to learn more about art. When we’re in New York, will you show me how to appreciate it more? I feel like I don’t know what I’m looking at, so it kind of goes over my head.”

“Sure. On Thursday afternoon we’ll head for the Frick or the Neue Galerie. A smaller place is better for talking and taking it slow.”

“That’ll be cool. I’ll never be able to spend eight hours in a museum, but I’d like to be more informed.”

“I’m your girl,” Lizzie said, rubbing her face into Jill’s neck. “In many ways.”

“I haven’t kissed you much today,” Jill said, flexing her arm to pull Lizzie even closer. “Let’s make up for that oversight.”

Lizzie immediately put her hand up to Jill’s head as their lips met. She had the most delightful habit of running her fingers along Jill’s scalp when they kissed, and she found herself enjoying the tickling nearly as much as the kissing. Both made goosebumps break out on her arms and legs.

“I love kissing you,” Jill murmured. “This is the highlight of my day.”

“You know one thing I love about you?”

“Tell me. I’m a terrible guesser.”

Lizzie smiled and touched Jill’s face, tracing along her features as she spoke. “I love that you don’t give me a hard time about things. Even things you don’t like.”

“Mmm. Not sure what that means.”

“Like when we went on the boat ride. You didn’t like the guy—who shall remain nameless—and you didn’t like how I interacted with him, yet you’ve never brought it up again. I
love
that.”

“Who wants to go over stuff like that? I told you I didn’t like him. I told you I never wanted to go out with him again. What else was there to say?”

“Exactly,” Lizzie said, giving her a kiss. “People I’ve been with in the past couldn’t let things go. If that had happened with Joel, I would have had to reassure him a hundred times that I was never going to see…that person again, that I agreed he was a slime-ball. All sorts of stuff.”

“Well, Joel sounds like he was pretty insecure. The fact that his equipment stopped working after you hooked up with a woman showed he had some pretty significant insecurities.”

“You don’t seem to.” Lizzie slid across Jill’s hips and sat up, facing her. “You looked at that box of toys today and hardly batted an eye. Most people would want to know all of the dirty details.”

“No.” She blinked in confusion. “They would? Why?”

“I don’t know. Just curiosity. Or they might want to make sure they’re not falling behind on the job. Or maybe they’re pervy like me and like to fantasize about how you’ve been with other people.”

Jill playfully touched the tip of her nose and laughed. “You’re going to have to continue to fantasize. Because I’m not telling.”

“And you’re not curious about me?”

“Nope. I am completely uninterested in imagining you bending some poor soul over a chair and having your way with him.” She laughed a little louder. “Although I’ve got to give you mad props for having the guts to do it.”

Lizzie leaned over and pressed her hands against Jill’s shoulders, then leaned down until their faces were close. “Big secret? I’ve only done that once.”

“Once? I thought you were frightening men all over New England!”

“Nope. Just once. In retrospect, that might have been a contributing factor in Joel’s equipment breaking.”

“Because he hated it?”

“No, because he liked it too much. I suspect he started to think he was gay. Which he wasn’t,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “Guys have been socialized to think getting pleasure from their butts makes them gay. So dumb.”

Jill rolled her over, winding up on top. Hovering over her, she looked down at Lizzie’s glittering eyes. “How about you? I already know you’re gay, so we don’t have to worry about harming your tender psyche.” She slid a hand under Lizzie’s butt and squeezed a cheek. “Have I neglected an erogenous zone?”

“Yes. But it’s not always erogenous. It has to be seduced.”

“Isn’t that true for all of your erogenous zones?” She moved her hand up and caressed a hard nipple. “They all like a little build-up.”

“That one in particular likes a lot of build-up. If I’m really, really turned on, but can’t quite get there, that can send me over. It’s like an afterburner on a rocket.”

“So…that’s something to keep in reserve? For a special occasion?”

“Yeah. Unless that’s something that really works for you. I can easily go along with anything that trips your trigger.”

“I’m a little like you. I’m not antagonistic to it, but it’s not something I crave.” She started to work her way down Lizzie’s body, not stopping until she was between her legs. “
This
is something I crave.”

“That’s your version of foreplay?” Lizzie teased, slapping at her back. “Sweet talking my girly bits?”

“Uh-huh.” She looked up, catching the loving smile that met her eyes. “If I catch you before you’re turned on, I’ll be able to stay down here longer.”

“Too late. Just lying with you turns me on. You’re my irresistible boo.”

“Boo?”

Shrugging, Lizzie said, “That’s what I call you in my head.”

“I like it,” Jill decided. She parted Lizzie with her fingers and spent a moment gazing at her luscious flesh. “Changed my mind.
This
is the best part of my day.”

***

The next evening, Jill came home when Lizzie was in the kitchen making dinner. Even though she was cooking, she was also talking, animatedly, using her hands to put exclamation points onto her words. “I know!” she said, nodding. Her focus shifted to Jill, and a kiss was quickly sent her way via one of those quickly moving hands. “He’s going to try to sneak away to see a therapist—without telling the she-devil!”

Jill knew exactly who was being talked about, but she wasn’t sure who was on the other end of this conversation. Moving over to tuck an arm around Lizzie and give her a hug, she listened for a moment, hearing either Donna or Kristen. They sounded an awful lot alike. Dinner was clearly well in hand, so rather than listen to the sisters talk about Mark, Jill went upstairs to change and get ready for dinner.

The boys were up in the spare bedroom, their favorite place for late afternoon sun. Jill put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went into the room to snuggle with her guys.

She wasn’t antagonistic to hearing about Mark, but Lizzie was a ball of energy tonight and Jill needed to ease into things. She went back into her room and found a metal comb they liked, then spent a long time grooming the boys, with each one trying to gnaw on the comb while his brother was enjoying the attention.

Lizzie appeared and lay down right in front of Jill. “Do me next.”

Playfully, Jill put the comb up to her hair, but Lizzie didn’t blink. “Go ahead,” she said. “They don’t have fleas.”

“I will not touch your hair with a flea comb!”

“Such a wuss.” Lizzie sat up and wrapped her arms around Jill. “Ready for dinner? I was in a vegetable mood, so I thought I’d take advantage of it. I’ve got red, orange and green vegetables, all thrown into a spicy Indian sauce.” Her eyes widened. “Do you like spicy stuff?”

“I do. I’ve never met a cuisine I couldn’t be happy with.”

“I bought some naan too, and I made rice.”

“I’ve missed having a girlfriend who can cook,” Jill said, cuddling against Lizzie’s warm body.

“Have you had one before?”

“A couple. Becca in particular. She was a real homemaker.”

“I’m not that, but I can cook well enough to get by.” She stood and held a hand out for Jill to take. “I went by the co-op and bought everything they had on the day-old shelf. Our whole dinner cost six bucks. Cool, huh?”

“That’s very cool,” Jill agreed. She draped her arm around Lizzie’s shoulders as they walked downstairs. “Which sister were you talking with?”

“Kristen. She had a shitty day, and she called while she was driving home from Wyatt's lacrosse game.”

“Do you guys talk a lot?”

“Yeah. Probably at least once a week. I feel all disconnected when we don’t keep in touch.”

“Same with Donna?”

“No, not as much. Probably once a month or six weeks. And we never talk as long. Kristen and I are the real chatterboxes in the family.”

“What’s the news on Mark? Still thinking of going to Sugar Hill to kick his butt?”

“Both Mom and Kristen have talked me out of that.” They were in the kitchen now, and Lizzie took out a pair of plates. “But you could whip me into a frenzy again if you wanted to.”

“No, I’m happy to let things play out. You said he’s in therapy?”

“Yeah. Mom made him go. He’s too much of a wimp to tell Lisa, so he’s got to sneak out of the shop twice a week and hope she doesn’t notice.”

“She notices every leaf drop!”

“I know. But that’s his deal. I’m just glad he’s seeing someone. Maybe something will sink in and wash away some of the stupid bullshit he’s been fed for the last twenty years.”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Jill was also pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. Going to therapy because your mom made you wasn’t the key to making permanent, positive changes.

***

On the last Friday of September, Jill raced around the house, trying to get the place ready for bridge. Lizzie was setting the glasses out, making sure there were no spots on them. The bell rang, and Lizzie went to open it. “Welcome!” she said, offering hugs to Karen and Becky.

“Hi, Lizzie,” Karen said. “I was hoping you were going to be home tonight.”

“I’m not staying. There’s a movie at Main Street Landing that I’m going to see.” She turned and stuck her tongue out at Jill. “One my girlfriend refuses to see with me.”

“I said I’d go,” Jill insisted.

“I know. But you didn’t say it with enthusiasm.”

Skip and Alice came in while the door was still open. Lizzie greeted them both, then collected all of the coats and took them into the den. When she returned, she flitted around for a few minutes, arranging for drinks for everyone while making small talk.

The whole scene played out again when Kathleen, Mary Beth and Gerri arrived. Then Lizzie went upstairs and came back a few minutes later. She was wearing a beat-up black leather motorcycle jacket, a tight white T-shirt and her usual snug jeans. They were rolled up really high tonight, with colorful socks sticking out of the tops of her lineman’s boots. Jill stood there just looking at her until Skip gave her an elbow and whispered, “She’ll be home later. Stick your tongue back in your mouth.”

She shook her head and tried to stop blushing. Everyone said goodbye to Lizzie, then Jill went to the front porch with her. “I don’t really like bridge,” Jill whined. “I’d much rather see that stupid…I mean, really cool movie with you.”

Lizzie gave her a big wet kiss, turned her and patted her on the butt. “Have fun, boo. Save some energy for me. This movie’s supposed to be super sexy.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Jill complained. “You just said it was French.”

“Bye bye now,” she said as she started for her car. “See you later.”

When Jill walked back in, Kathleen rolled her eyes and said, “Who remembers standing on the front porch, trying to be together for one last minute?”

A bunch of hands went up. When Skip’s didn’t, Alice reached across the table and gave him a punch in the arm. “Don’t be a jackass.”

Tossing a chip into her mouth on the way past the bowl, Jill took her seat. Because of Lizzie’s bad influence, Jill hadn’t even made an attempt at healthy snacking. No more hummus and raw vegetables. Tonight they’d whip through everyone’s preferred fare of chips and salsa and popcorn. The snacks may have changed, but these were her chosen people, and she was going to stop being such a lovesick teenager and appreciate them, warts and all.

A few weeks later, on
a Thursday afternoon in October, Jill sat on a bench at the Frick Gallery, watching Lizzie look at a painting. It was a Vermeer, and Lizzie had told her a lot about it and the artist. But she didn’t get much after a long time studying it, so she sat down and watched Lizzie. She was a lot more interesting than a painting anyway.

Ever since Jill had told her, in very clear terms, how much she loved her leggings, Lizzie wore them frequently. Today a long striped shirt just covered her butt, but every inch of her gorgeous legs were on display. At least half of the women they’d passed on the street also wore leggings and boots, but the others were pretenders to Lizzie’s rightful place as the queen of legs.

She stood close, very close to the piece. The nearby guard watched her like a hawk, probably worried that she was going to take a bite out of it. Jill had to agree that’s how it looked, given her rapt attention.

From the angle she was at, Jill could see Lizzie’s eyes. They moved slowly, then stayed in one place for quite a while, obviously taking in some small detail. Her lips, tinted with a gorgeous shade of peach-colored gloss, were slightly open, the way they often were when they made love. The tiniest of smiles curled those lovely lips, making her look completely sated.

Then she moved back, crossed her arms over her chest and stared. Now her eyes swept across the painting from top to bottom, then side to side. The slight smile remained, but now her head nodded as if she were having a discussion with herself and was agreeing with a point. Stepping back a few more feet, she continued to caress the painting with her eyes, ignoring the other people who leaned in close, took a peek, and departed. Finally, she’d backed up as much as she could, but still didn’t look away. She was truly mesmerized, and Jill longed to feel what she felt. To get into the painting as Lizzie was so clearly able to do. But it just wasn’t in her. Lizzie would have to delve into the art, and Jill would have to satisfy herself with delving into Lizzie. That was a deal she’d make any day of the week.