Improvisation (13 page)

“I need another fisherman knit sweater,” she told Jan as they entered the store. An Irish reel was playing softly over the sound system, and a tower of shamrock-dotted teapots was on display in the front of the store. “My old one is almost worn out.”

“I’ve seen it,” Jan said with a grimace. “And I’ll be very happy to help you pick out a new one. I accept it as my civic duty to keep you from wearing that beige thing in public ever again.”

Tina was about to defend her comfortable old sweater when she noticed a set of prints on the wall. “Ogham writing,” she said, aiming toward them. She nodded in response to the clerk’s greeting as she walked by the counter.

“What did you call these?”

“Ogham,” Tina repeated, spelling the word. “It’s an ancient Irish script. It’s linear.”

“I love the shapes,” Jan said, tracing the lines and hash marks without touching her finger to the glass. “It says it means family.”

“Ugh,” Tina said. Each letter was made up of a vertical line and differentiated by the way one or more horizontal or diagonal lines intersected it. The artist had drawn the letters of each word so they were connected on the vertical, like a tree. Most of the letters in the word for family branched off to the right. Unbalanced. Tina pointed at a different print, with a less lopsided look and more bold diagonal slashes. “I prefer this one.
Laughter.
”

“You know, you could put it up in the apartment. In place of one of the airplane prints.”

The one in the bedroom, Tina decided immediately. She pictured the new print hanging there, over the bed, promising laughter and play and connection. “I really don’t need to redecorate the place,” she said, turning away from the artwork. “It’s not like I’ll be staying long.”

Tina wandered over to the sweaters, oddly disturbed by the exchange. Now she wouldn’t be able to be in the bedroom without imagining the print on the wall and remembering their shared laughter on the boardwalk. As it was, Jan had been spending way too much time in Tina’s imagination. Like, every night when she was in bed. She hadn’t been able even to consider bringing another woman back to the apartment until she could get Jan off her mind. Three was a crowd, in her opinion. She sifted roughly through the clothes on the rack.

“This one,” Jan suggested, reaching around her to pull out a heather-green sweater. “It’ll be beautiful with your eyes.”

She held the sweater against Tina’s body to check the size, standing close with her hands on Tina’s shoulders. “Not your type?” Jan asked.

“What?” Tina’s voice sounded husky and she cleared her throat. “It’s fine. I like it.”

“Not the sweater,” Jan said. “I meant the clerk. She’s been staring at you since we came in, and you haven’t even flirted with her.”

Tina was shocked she hadn’t noticed. She couldn’t even picture the woman in her mind. Dark blond hair and denim-blue eyes? No. When had Jan managed to superimpose herself over every woman Tina met? She normally could give a damned good description of each woman in a room after a quick scan, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring anyone to mind but Jan. “I didn’t want to make you mad again. Every time I’ve flirted today, with you or anyone else, you’ve snapped at me.”

Jan shrugged. “You said it was a habit. Don’t fight it on my account.”

Tina shrugged back at her. “If you insist,” she said, snatching the sweater out of Jan’s hands and carrying it to the counter. She was angry. Angry because Jan was complicating what should have been a relaxing evening with friends. And, even more, because she would normally have taken any opportunity to flirt or seduce, but she seemed to be acting decidedly
abnormal
after spending so much time with Jan.

“Did you find everything all right?” the clerk asked.

“Almost. But I haven’t learned your name yet,” Tina said. Jan made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Tina ignored her.

“Kris, with a
K
,” the clerk said. Her dark brown hair was in a braid halfway down her back, and her eyes were a similar shade.

“Hi, Kris, I’m Tina. You’ve got great music playing in the store. What group is it?”

“The Boise Banshees,” Kris said, gold bangles jingling on her wrist as she held up the CD case for Tina. “They’re playing tonight at a bar down the street, if you’ll still be in town.”

“In fact, they’re the reason I came to Coeur d’Alene in the first place,” Tina said as she ran a finger over the gold bracelets on Kris’s wrist. “At least they
were
the reason I came. Nice bracelets.”

“Thanks,” Kris said, in a voice sufficiently breathy to let Tina know she had captured her attention. Not that Tina had wanted it in the first place. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tina said as she picked up the bag containing her new sweater.

“Masterful,” Jan said once they were outside.

“Look,” Tina said, unaccountably irritable. She felt somehow trapped by her own reputation. She needed women to understand she wasn’t looking for anything serious, that she liked playing the field, and she had to act the part, at least around Jan. To do anything less would have made her seem too content just to be with Jan. She wasn’t, of course, but she was only here for the music. “All I want to do is listen to this band, not—”

“Hey, there’s Peter and Chloe,” Jan said, pointing down the street. She headed toward the couple but stopped partway and pulled out her vibrating cell phone.

“It’s my dad,” Jan said as Peter and Chloe joined them.

Tina reached out and put her hand on Jan’s shoulder, all anger about the store-clerk incident dissipating. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jan said with a frown. “But I need to go back to Spokane.”

“I’m going with you,” Tina said.

“We’ll all go,” Peter offered.

“No, please,” Jan said, pulling away from Tina’s touch. “You go see the band play. It’s nothing serious. Sometimes you just need to be with family.”

“At least text me when you get home,” Chloe said, her concern clearly evident on her face.

“I will. I promise. Have fun tonight.”

Tina felt like the last sentence was directed at her. Fun. Right. The day with Jan had been fun, but the night promised to be exhausting. She’d have to endure being a third wheel with the loving couple and discourage Kris’s attentions. But she wouldn’t add to Jan’s distress by making her feel guilty. “I’m sure we will,” she said. “Drive safely.”

*

Jan waited until she had turned a corner and was out of sight of her friends before she speed-dialed.

“Hey, Dad, I got your message. No, it’s no problem at all,” she leaned against a brick building and closed her eyes. “No need to wait until tomorrow. I’m tired from teaching today, so I’m coming back to Spokane a little early and I can bring it by tonight. What kind of cupcake did you want?”

She ended the call and walked quickly to the bakery. She knew she must look as guilty as she felt, glancing around as if she were about to commit a crime. Guilty for being slightly untruthful to her friends. And for using her dad as an excuse to get away from them. But no way could she spend the evening watching Tina seal the seduction deal with her new girlfriend. She was jealous. Illogically and annoyingly jealous. Even though she was attracted to Tina, she didn’t want a relationship with her. But the thought of her with another woman made her cringe. And
watching
the seduction process was not an option, so she had to leave. By the time she saw Tina again—even if it was as soon as tomorrow—the relationship probably would have run its course.

To be fair, Tina hadn’t seemed at all interested in the clerk until Jan had goaded her into flirting. Jan wasn’t even sure why she had been so adamant about pushing Tina. Maybe because she’d felt a physical pain when she had let go of Tina on the pier, and she wasn’t convinced she’d be able to make it through the night without throwing her common sense away and throwing herself at Tina. So she had insisted even though Tina had seemed reluctant. But, once Tina had turned on the charm, she took no prisoners. Or maybe one prisoner. Who was about to be tied to Tina’s bedposts for the night. Damn.

Jan bought a box of cupcakes and walked back to her car. Three for her dad, and a couple for her on the drive home. Hopefully the sugar rush would distract her enough so she’d stop imagining the inevitable end to Tina’s night.

Tina walked through the empty hallway to Jan’s classroom. The door was closed, but it had a small window in it and she peered through. She expected to see students sitting quietly at their desks, most of them nodding off to sleep over their textbooks, while Jan lectured about…Tina struggled to remember her high-school geometry class. Triangles and the Pythagorean Theorem and polygons. Pi.

Instead she saw what looked like a day-care center. The desks had been pushed back against the walls, and all the students were sitting on the floor playing with toy trucks and cars. Jan was on her hands and knees with them, wearing a red T-shirt and black jeans. Snug black jeans. Tina stared at the inch of pale skin showing between Jan’s shirt and her jeans. She struggled to swallow her surge of arousal, to banish the memory of Jan’s body pressed against her on the pier. She forced her attention off Jan’s ass and focused, instead, on her face. A few strands of deep gold hair had escaped her ponytail and curled softly against her cheeks. She looked as young as her students as she pushed her truck over a bridge and laughed along with the kids at some comment Tina couldn’t hear.

Tina tapped on the window, and the entire class turned to look her way. Jan’s laughter faded to a quizzical expression as she got to her feet.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she edged out the door and left it slightly open behind her. The abruptness of her question was softened by a smile, and Tina reached over to tuck a loose lock of Jan’s hair behind her ear. She needed some contact. Any contact. Or she’d go crazy.

“I was worried about you…about your dad,” she said. “I’m meeting Peter here after his lunch with Chloe, and I wanted to check in with you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jan said, not looking directly at Tina. “Dad’s fine. He’s coming back home on Thursday.”

“I’m glad,” Tina said. She leaned a hand against the wall next to Jan, standing close enough to smell a hint of lavender but not close enough to be able to tell if it was from Jan’s hair or her clothes. She wanted to find out. “Too bad you couldn’t stay Saturday night. You would have loved the band. And, thanks to you, I had to sit in the backseat of the car and watch the two lovebirds cooing at each other all the way home.”

“I thought you’d end up spending the night in Coeur d’Alene.”

“No reason to,” Tina said. She didn’t elaborate. She could easily have found a place to stay for the night, either with Kris or one of the other women who had shown interest, but she had decided to come straight back to Spokane. Even though Jan had left their little party, Tina had still felt her presence. Watching. Judging? Tina hadn’t wanted to seduce another woman and take care of her own needs while Jan was alone and scared, taking care of her dad. “So, does your school principal care if you spend class time playing with toys?”

“We’re not playing,” Jan said, glancing through the window at her students. “The kids built bridges, and we’re testing them to find out which designs are strongest. And, yes, they’re learning practical applications of geometry and having fun at the same time.”

“My teachers weren’t as cool as you,” Tina said, moving a little closer. The lavender was in her hair. Intoxicating. “Or nearly as pretty.”

Jan felt a wave of guilt. It had been building, a tight knot in her stomach, and Jan had thought she could hold it there. Ignore it. Let it sit with the rest of her worries. But Tina was being so nice, so concerned about her. Standing so close and smelling so good. The knot loosened, and the guilt flowed through her and out her mouth. “I lied,” she said abruptly.

Tina laughed. “You mean they’re not really learning practical applications of geometry?”

“No, I mean yes, they are. But Dad’s message on Saturday just asked me to bring him something from the bakery. There wasn’t anything really wrong.”

“Huh,” Tina said, her expression suddenly unreadable. “Why?”

“Because he has a sweet tooth.” Jan made a lame attempt at a joke. It didn’t work. She wanted to tell Tina the real reason she had left, but she couldn’t. Her need to confess had once more come under control. Self-protection was in charge again. “I was tired, and I didn’t feel up to a long night in a noisy bar. I didn’t want to spoil the evening for the rest of you, so I made an excuse to go home.”

“I see. Well, you missed a fun evening.”

“I know,” Jan said. And she had paid for her fib as she spent the drive home fighting an irrationally superstitious fear that her dad actually would have something wrong with him. But he had been cheerful during her visit, and happy to have the only two cupcakes that had survived her fretful trip.

“I’d better go find Peter,” Tina said, backing up a step. “I am glad to hear your dad’s okay.”

“He still wants to meet you,” Jan said as Tina turned to go. “We’d talked about having lunch together, if you still want to…Maybe this weekend?”

“Sure. Give me a call,” Tina said over her shoulder as she walked away. She was halfway down the long corridor before she heard the sound of Jan closing her classroom door. Jan’s tangled mess of excuses about why she hadn’t stayed added up to one conclusion in Tina’s mind. Jan was jealous. Her mood had definitely changed while they were in the Irish shop, before the phone message from her dad. Jan might not realize it, and she’d probably never admit it, but she hadn’t wanted to stay and watch Tina flirt more with Kris or anyone else. Tina waited for her expected reactions. Panic and claustrophobia because Jan might be developing feelings for her. Or maybe a need to run, an urge to flee because their black-and-white friendship might turn a messy shade of gray. Or maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind at all.

*