September Canvas (13 page)

Closing the door to the now almost bright yellow trees, Faythe couldn’t wait to get back to her laptop. She knew exactly what to write about. Just as she flipped her laptop open, her cell phone rang and the display read “Ben.” Curious what her father might want since he rarely called her unless he wanted to discuss something practical like money, she answered.

“Hi, Ben.” Faythe never called him Dad anymore. Ben Hamilton had asked her to call him by his first name when she was a high school senior. Faythe had felt awkward about the request and wondered that first year if he was tired of being her dad. Ben kept reassuring her it was because her eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and she was an adult now, like him.

“Faythe, I’ve just heard from your mother. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The pink business card lay tucked into the top drawer of the old oak dresser just inside the front door. Deanna glanced at the drawer every time she passed it. Sometimes she shuddered, but it also distracted her and made her pensive. The card represented so much hurt and fear that it was almost like a live entity.

She had worked two all-nighters and slept late, a habit she resorted to while under pressure of a deadline. “Or under any pressure.” Deanna sharpened her pencils with a craft knife. She always worked better late evening and night.
I suppose that has to change if I ever strike it big and
can afford that studio with the big windows. No use in having windows
unless there’s daylight.
Huffing at her own sarcastic words, Deanna returned to her work area. She’d nearly completed her illustrations and was surprised that she was far from tired of drawing the cute bunnies and their friends. She’d always wanted to make a name for herself as an avant-garde, edgy artist, and here she was painting rabbits with aprons and tool belts, and dressed as firemen and doctors. Deanna jumped as the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It’s Faythe.” Faythe’s voice sounded off.

“Hi.”

“I know it’s late.”

“No problem. I’m working late these days.”

“Oh, you’re working. I’m sorry.”

“As I said. No problem.” Deanna’s thoughts whirled. What could be wrong? Last time they spoke, Faythe was the strong one, the nurturing of the two. Now her voice was stark, but with a certain frailty.

“I didn’t want anything in particular, really.” Faythe spoke hastily. “It can wait. I mean, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Or later in the week.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Deanna thought quickly. “You got some cocoa?”

“Cocoa? Yeah. Why?”

“I’m out, and that’s what I drink when I pull an all-nighter,” Deanna lied, thinking she sounded completely lame. “And since you’re up, and I’m up, and I plan to be up all night working, I figured I need some hot chocolate.”
Damn, I’m babbling.

“Oh. I see. All right.” Faythe’s staccato voice made Deanna wince, but at least she sounded approachable. “Want to come over here, or should I bring the cocoa?”

“I’m on my way.” Deanna hung up and tossed her pencils to the side, then locked up and jogged along the moonlit path to Faythe’s house. Only when she knocked on the back door did she realize that she’d passed the dresser for the first time since she tucked the card into the drawer without looking, or even thinking about it.

Faythe opened the door and motioned for Deanna to come in, her face hidden in the shadows. “Hi.”

“Something’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question because it was obvious.

“I’m fine.” Faythe stalked out of the kitchen only to return. “Damn. Forgot to make hot chocolate.” She flipped on a light and yanked a canister from a shelf. With equally jerky movements, she filled a glass pitcher with milk and placed it in the microwave. She stood there staring at the revolving pitcher, unmoving. “What am I forgetting?” she murmured.

“Mugs?” Deanna could see Faythe trembling and now she was really concerned.

“Mugs. Yeah. Good idea.” Faythe placed two blue ceramic mugs on the counter. Suddenly she spun around, nailing Deanna with her green eyes. Like a cat’s, they seemed fluorescent in the dim light.

“Faythe. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Faythe smiled, a professional, broad, and very white smile, which Deanna figured she’d perfected to use at work when her interview subject was not her forte. But in the setting of a cozy kitchen, the smile was almost scary.

Deanna knew better than to push verbally, but also saw how small Faythe seemed in her oversized white T-shirt and black leggings.
She
looks so cold.
Not thinking about any repercussions, she strode over to Faythe, who merely stared up at her. Taking her in her arms, Deanna merely held her as the microwave oven pinged and stopped revolving.

“Really, I’m fine.” Faythe talked directly into Deanna’s shoulder. “Honestly.”

“I know you are.” Deanna refused to let go. If she did, she might not get a second chance. “You’re very fine.”

“Deanna.”

“Shh. I’ve been self-absorbed lately. Thinking of very little but myself and what’s going on in my life. I never meant you couldn’t share your feelings, your problems. Just give me a chance and I’ll show you that I’m actually a good listener.”

“I don’t need a listener.” Faythe stood rigid in Deanna’s embrace. “I don’t need any more words.”

“I think you do. Something’s got you worked up. What?”

“Please, Deanna. I know I called you, and I’m grateful that you popped right over. I know you made up the stuff about the cocoa.” Faythe leaned her forehead against Deanna’s shoulder. “I just don’t want to talk.”

“I won’t make you.” Deanna rocked Faythe gently. “But you’d be the first to tell me it’s better to talk about things.”

“I’m such a bitch.”

Stunned, Deanna stopped rocking. “What?”

“I’m not exactly practicing what I’m preaching, am I?” Faythe sighed against Deanna, her warm breath penetrating Deana’s sweater.

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to tell me.” 

Faythe half laughed, half sobbed. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

“No. Not in my nature.”

“You’ll think I made a mountain of a molehill, that I exaggerate and am totally oversensitive.”

“There’s no such thing as being oversensitive. Either you’re sensitive or you’re not.”

They stood still in the kitchen, Faythe shielded in Deanna’s embrace, until finally Faythe cleared her voice. “My mother is worried that I’m throwing my life and my career away.”

“By taking time out?” Deanna tried to understand.

“Yes and no. My agent was here a few days ago, with a fabulous offer from CNN. I turned it down because it’s the direct opposite of what I want. You know, long hours, no social life, no room for anything but work.”

“I understand.”

“So, my agent had an ace up her sleeve. My mom had called her. Suzy, that’s my agent, is a pro and would never break confidentiality, but she delivered Mom’s message.”

“Which was?”

“Get your act together, or else. I’m kidding. She said she was concerned and asked Suzy to talk some sense into me.”

“And that’s when the CNN job showed up.” 

Faythe pushed away from Deanna a little. “Yes. I’m sure Suzy would have placed that on the table anyway—but it sure was timely.”

“It was.”

“And then someone else butted in. My father. Ben.” Faythe’s lips were a pale, fine line. “He’s called every day for the last few days.”

“Something tells me he wasn’t calling to show his support.”

“You’re very astute.” The sarcasm was obvious.

“Want to talk about it?” Deanna kept Faythe’s hands in hers, reluctant to lose her touch.

“Oh, he agreed with Mom for the first time in over a decade. Told me just how worthless and stupid my career move is.”

“Good Lord.”

“Yes, and every day, he’s become more agitated. I can’t seem to do anything right these days. And it bothers me that I’m so upset! I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. I’m only accountable to myself. He’s always been shallow, so I know better than to take his words seriously.”

“But he’s also your dad, whom you want to please and be praised by,” Deanna said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured, and that’s why I told him about what I’ve been writing for nearly three days straight. I was so
sure
he’d be interested and excited, since I really do have a good idea for a book. I honestly thought he’d eventually see things my way and not be so hung up on my last glossy, glamorous job.” Faythe grabbed a paper towel from a roll. “I should’ve known better, but I can be so damn naïve.”

“What happened?” Deanna didn’t let Faythe’s reluctance bother her. She hugged her close and kissed her temple.

“He laughed. He laughed out loud and told me it was time to get my head out of the clouds. Saying that books like the one I want to write are boring and nobody reads such things anyway. He went on and on.”

“Oh, honey.” The term of endearment was out before Deanna could stop it.

“You must think I’m such a wimp.” Faythe closed her eyes and drew a couple of deep breaths.

“I don’t think that at all.”

“It’s just that everything he said confirmed my worst fears—that I should stick to what I know and not aim for the stars.”

“You’re embarking on a whole new voyage. It’s only natural to feel intimidated.” Stroking Faythe’s back, Deanna thought about how different she felt while holding Faythe compared to comforting Miranda when she was upset.

She was out of her element, though, since she hadn’t held anyone other than her sister in more than two years. She tried a rocking motion, which seemed to work. Faythe buried her face into Deanna’s shoulder, whispering words nearly impossible to hear.

“I’m…silly…I should just…not give a shit.” Faythe sounded exhausted.

“You’re not silly.” Deanna guessed that her father’s daily phone calls had made her brood instead of sleep.

“Why do we always want our parents to validate us, no matter how old we get?” Faythe looked up at Deanna with tears in her eyes. “It’s counterproductive!” Her beautiful face became even more so when her feelings radiated from it.

“I agree. I have some parental issues too.” Deanna couldn’t stop staring at Faythe and detected something beyond the obvious beauty, something unique. Faythe’s innermost self seemed to be laid bare because she was so upset.

Faythe gazed back up at Deanna, apparently seeing something in Deanna’s eyes that stunned her. “Deanna.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so good to me. And you’re so beautiful.”

The unexpected words made Deanna tremble. Faythe was so much better and beautiful than she was. Her hands trembled, and she steadied them by holding Faythe even closer. She stroked Faythe’s back in slow circles, telling herself she was comforting her, but Faythe wasn’t crying.

The tears still clung to her eyelashes, and it felt far too good to touch her to be purely altruistic in motive.

“Deanna.” Faythe whispered her name again. “I need to kiss you.”

Fire erupted inside Deanna and she lowered her mouth to Faythe’s.

With incredible softness, and with a tenderness she never imagined possible, she pressed her lips against Faythe’s, then slipped the tip of her tongue inside Faythe’s mouth. Groaning, she tasted the sweetness of the woman in her arms, her name echoing in her head.
Faythe. Faythe.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” Faythe murmured into the kiss. “And you feel good, too.” Her hands mimicked Deanna’s movements on her back. She tucked her hands into Deanna’s back pockets and pulled her closer. The kiss became hotter, deeper, and Deanna was dizzy from the onslaught of emotions. This was more than a physical reaction.

Deanna nudged Faythe backward and stopped only when they reached a closed door. Grateful for solid support, she held Faythe tenderly against the door, sliding her hands up and down her sides.

She was dying to touch her breasts and to cup her sex so she could feel the heat through her leggings, but she didn’t. Deanna didn’t want Faythe to think she was some unfeeling brute out to score. Her own wetness flooded her sex, and when Faythe pushed against her, touching the front of Deanna’s lower abdomen, she groaned and slid her lips down Faythe’s neck.

“You feel so…you’re so sexy, so beautiful.” Deanna held Faythe by her waist, her thumbs just beneath her breasts.

“And you feel so right, so good.” Faythe clung to Deanna’s neck, inviting her to kiss her again by nipping at her lower lip. “I’ve wanted to do this for days and it feels better,
is
better, than I ever dreamed.” Deanna murmured agreement against Faythe’s mouth. She’d watched Faythe’s lips intently for what felt like an eternity. Now when she closed her mouth over Faythe’s and ran her tongue inside the velvet lips, she knew this was not just any kiss or any woman.

Faythe’s hands were in her hair now, holding Deanna close by lacing her fingers through it. Her eagerness and obvious arousal fueled Deanna’s desire, and she caressed Faythe’s collarbones underneath her big T-shirt.

Suddenly Faythe grew still and slowly withdrew. She stared up at Deanna, her lips trembling and her nipples so hard they were clearly visible through the shirt. “I never thought I could feel this way, this much. You take my breath away.”

“You drive me crazy when you look at me that way.” Deanna smoothed Faythe’s hair back from her face. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” She was so winded it was hard to speak.

“No, no. You were just perfect. If I allowed my body to call the shots, I’d drag you to my bed right away.”

“Really?” Deanna had to smile at the imagery. “What a sexy thought.”

“Sexy thoughts about a sexy woman.” Faythe didn’t look haunted or upset anymore. Instead she had a gleam in her eye that was hard to decipher.

Deanna suspected that she had a similar look. She hugged Faythe close, afraid to kiss her again because she knew it would be a mistake.

She had no problem thinking of Faythe and her needs first. She put Miranda before anything else, and now Faythe. Deanna wasn’t ready to examine the significance of her behavior too closely.

“How about that hot chocolate?” She kissed the tip of Faythe’s nose, wanting the physical nearness to remain, but also trying to lessen its intensity.