Waking Up Gray (15 page)

Lizbeth exhaled heavily. “Wow! That was intense.”

Gray chuckled. “Yes, it was.”

Lizbeth waited a few seconds, then asked, “Are you going to do it again?”

“What, not feed you?” Gray teased her.

“Gray, are you going to kiss me again?”

Gray answered quickly, “Not until I’ve seen you eat a full meal. I’m afraid you might have a heart attack and then what would Fanny say?”

#

As soon as Lizbeth finished eating, Gray packed up the Jeep, doused the fire, and took them home. The National Park Service closed the beaches at night now, which was a total surprise to Lizbeth. So much had changed about the island since she was a child. Lizbeth wanted their time on the beach together to go on, but approaching Park Service SUV’s headlights forced then to move along.

Gray filled the ride home with complaints about the park service and the Audubon Society. There was an ongoing fight between the natives of the Outer Banks and the government over the plight of a little bird called the Piping Plover. Gray believed it was all based on bad science and mismanagement that would eventually kill the economy, while the bird moved to another habitat, as was its nature. Gray had been very animated in her argument. Gray’s passion, when she spoke, mesmerized Lizbeth. Gray loved this island and these people.

Gray pulled the Jeep to a stop in front of Lizbeth’s cottage and killed the engine. She got out and walked Lizbeth to her door. The village was completely quiet except for the occasional blue grass music, coming through the trees on the wind. On a porch somewhere in the tiny village, musicians gathered, as was often the case among the talented population. Repeating the same positions as at the end of their Monday date, Lizbeth stood on the porch with Gray remaining on the ground, holding the door open, grinning. Lizbeth wasn’t sure what to do next. She didn’t want the night to end, but it appeared she was being left once again at her doorstep.

Lizbeth asked, “Do you want to come in, have some coffee?”

A single chuckle left Gray’s throat, before she said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“One step at a time, huh?” Lizbeth said, trying to hide her disappointment.

Gray’s grin widened. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Gray, I had a wonderful time. Thank you for another amazing evening.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gray said.

A grin seized Lizbeth, surely matching Gray’s. “Well, tomorrow then,” she said, dripping with southern drawl.

Gray winked. “Yes ma’am. Good night, Lizbeth. See you tomorrow,” she said, letting the door close slowly.

She was walking to her Jeep when Lizbeth called after her. “Eight o’clock.”

Gray turned around, her brow knitted, questioning, “What happens at eight o’clock?”

Lizbeth tried not to crack up when she said, “That’s when I usually get up. Just thought you should know, so you don’t have to pace outside my door for hours.”

Lizbeth left Gray standing in the yard grinning. This time, Lizbeth’s laughter trailed into the night.

Lizbeth woke Thursday morning to someone knocking on the front door. Her eyes popped open and when she saw the time on the digital clock, she smiled. It read, “8:00 a.m.” on the dot. Instantly energized, she leapt from the bed, ran a brush through her hair, grabbed her housecoat, and tore off down the stairs. She ran into the bathroom, emerging hurriedly when another knock, a few moments later, spurred her toward the front door.

Through the glass in the door, Lizbeth could see a beaming Gray, watching as she approached the door. Lizbeth was as excited as a giddy schoolgirl. When she opened the door, Gray held out a platter covered by a cotton dishtowel.

“Compliments of Fanny,” Gray said, grinning.

Lizbeth didn’t take the platter. She pulled the towel back and saw scrambled eggs, bacon, fried country potatoes, and two fluffy homemade biscuits, oozing butter.

“Yum. That looks delicious,” Lizbeth said and then winked at Gray. “Gonna make sure I’ve eaten, I take it.”

“Something like that,” Gray said, following Lizbeth down the hall, still carrying the platter.

“Well, I’ll give you one thing… You’re punctual,” Lizbeth said, reaching for the coffee pot. Gray laughed very close behind her, in the small cramped kitchen. Gray then leaned against Lizbeth’s back, while reaching around to set the platter on the counter in front of her. Lizbeth’s sharp intake of air was audible. She could feel Gray’s breath on her neck. Gray stayed there just a little longer than necessary, and then walked to the table, sitting down.

Lizbeth began to wonder if she would survive this little sexual dance she and Gray were doing. Lizbeth gripped the counter for support. Her knees grew weak and her head would spin, just like now, every time Gray touched her. When she had steadied herself, she continued with the coffee preparations. She still had her back to Gray. Both women remained quiet. To cover the silence, Lizbeth turned on the radio.

The voice of Governor Beverly Perdue rang out clear in the small space. “Those evacuations are serious. You know, I live on the coast. And when they tell you to get out, you really have to think of… take that message seriously. The tourists are taking it seriously. The residents are not mandatorily required to evacuate, but many of them are in the process of evacuating, too… People left behind are on their own.”

Lizbeth turned down the radio and faced Gray. That’s when she saw Gray staring out the window, a cloud of seriousness on her face.

“Gray, are you worried about the storm?”

Gray’s attention snapped back into the room. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What the Governor said, does that worry you?” Lizbeth asked.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did she say?”

“She said we’re on our own.”

Gray didn’t seem concerned. “Oh, that just means they won’t try to rescue anyone until the danger has passed. Relieves the state of responsibility. It’s the standard cover your ass speech.”

Lizbeth poured them both a cup of coffee and brought it to the table. She brought a fork and a napkin with her, intending to eat every bit of Fanny’s breakfast. If this is how the day was going to start, already weak kneed, she needed her strength. Lizbeth studied Gray’s demeanor as she sat down. The cloud of worry had lifted some, but Lizbeth could still see it behind Gray’s eyes.

Lizbeth decided not to pry anymore, having quickly learned that Gray didn’t like to talk about what she was feeling. She picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. It was scrumptious manna from heaven. Gray smiled, pleased with the look of pleasure on Lizbeth’s face.

Lizbeth swallowed and gathered a forkful of eggs. She asked, before taking a bite, “So what’s in store for us, how bad will it get?”

Gray didn’t seem worried at all about the storm. She talked about it as if it were a normal everyday occurrence. “I expect we’ll see sixty to seventy mile an hour sustained winds. Maybe two to four feet of storm surge.”

If the storm wasn’t bothering Gray, then Lizbeth suspected she knew what was. Gray was falling for Lizbeth and she really didn’t want to. This beautiful, strong, self-confident lesbian woman was afraid of a little ol’ straight girl. Lizbeth found that slightly amusing and grinned.

“What are you grinning at?” Gray asked in amusement.

“Nothing,” Lizbeth said, barely able to stifle a laugh. “So what’s on the agenda today?” She changed the subject to keep Gray from asking any more questions.

Gray, redirected, said, “We need to move your car to higher ground, before all the good spots are taken. It’s all about island topography. You have to know where the high spots are and get there first.”

“Where should we take it?” Lizbeth asked between bites.

“Over by the lighthouse is the highest ground. We’ll start there. I’d hate to see a car like that get salt water in it.”

“James loved that car,” Lizbeth said with a laugh.

Gray understood the car was one of Lizbeth’s spoils of war and laughed with her, adding, “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Hell hath no fury…” Lizbeth giggled.

“Did you let him keep his golf clubs?”

Lizbeth grinned. “Yes, in exchange for my college tuition.”

“Ooo, you play dirty,” Gray responded, still laughing.

“I had ten years to plan my escape. That’s a lot of time to think.”

“Like I said, I hope to stay in your good graces. Wouldn’t want all that experience taking someone to their knees aimed at me.”

Lizbeth swallowed. “It’s not a skill I recommend acquiring, but I could probably write a book on how to catch your cheating husband.”

The cloud darkened in Gray’s eyes. She asked softly, “Did it help, getting even?”

Lizbeth thought for a second, fork poised in mid air. “I wouldn’t say I got even. He’ll never know the kind of pain he caused me, because I don’t think he is capable of loving anyone but himself. Let’s just say it was bittersweet.”

Gray absorbed this information, but had no comment. Lizbeth finished as much of the food on the platter as she could and then took the platter to the sink, scraping off the leftovers in the trashcan. She washed the platter and returned to the table, handing it to Gray.

“Please tell Fanny thank you. That was delicious.”

“I will. I’ll run this plate back home while you get dressed, okay?” Gray said, standing up, and holding the plate between them with both hands.

They were face to face and too close together. Lizbeth started to feel the tiny lightning bolts dance across her body. Gray looked down at Lizbeth with blatant desire in her eyes. Up until then Gray had initiated every physical encounter between them, but something took over Lizbeth in that moment. She reached up, putting her arms around Gray’s neck.

“Well,” Lizbeth said, “You’ve seen me eat a meal.”

Gray, still holding the plate, hesitated for only a second before leaning down to Lizbeth’s waiting lips. This time the kiss was hungrier, their tongues seeking each other as a soft moan left Lizbeth’s throat. Gray’s own tiny moan followed close behind. Shockwaves crashed through Lizbeth’s nervous system. Her brain was screaming, “This is fucking fantastic,” while pumping all kinds of good chemicals into her body like a drunk running the beer keg.

Gray stopped kissing Lizbeth and took a few staggered steps backward, bumping into the wall. She held the plate up like a shield between them.

“Whoa,” she said. “That’s enough of that.”

The kiss dazzled Lizbeth as well, but the affect it had on Gray thrilled her even more. She giggled and said, “Maybe I should go get dressed.”

Gray didn’t move. She held the platter in place and rotated, keeping it between them as Lizbeth exited the kitchen. Lizbeth heard Gray leaving after she got upstairs. She could have sworn she heard Gray muttering to herself, “Damn,” followed by, “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?”

#

Gray was sitting on Lizbeth’s front porch when she came out the front door. She was back to her signature look of board shorts, tank top, and Ray Bans. Lizbeth had thrown a load of laundry in the washer before coming outside. She had only the blue plaid Bermuda shorts and white tee shirt she was wearing left of her clean clothes. She wanted to get things washed and dried before the hurricane knocked out the power.

Lizbeth stopped in the doorway before Gray was aware that she was there. Gray was once again in some far off place. Lizbeth hated that what was happening between them was somehow causing Gray discomfort, but she couldn’t help herself. Lizbeth, caught up in the moment, didn’t want to think about down the road. She knew that’s what was bothering Gray. It worried Lizbeth, too, when she let herself think about it, but she tried hard not to. Lizbeth felt alive inside for the first time in fourteen long and brutally lonely years. This felt like a second chance. She couldn’t afford to pass it up. At this point, Lizbeth knew she couldn’t if she wanted to.

She made her presence known by tossing the keys into Gray’s lap, saying, “You drive.”

They drove over to Lighthouse Road, but all the good spots were gone. Lizbeth asked, “Where to now?”

Gray aimed the Mustang back to Harbor Road and took a left, explaining, “We’ll go over by the community cemetery. That’s the side where the Navy dumped the sand they took out of the natural harbor when they made it bigger. That’s when they changed the name from Cockle Creek to Silver Lake. Old folks still call it the Creek.”

They locked the car and started back toward home on foot. They were joined, both in front of them and behind, by other people coming back from having moved their vehicles to higher ground. Every few minutes a car or truck would pass, a hand out the window, waving at neighbors. When they would pass Lizbeth and Gray, a loud “Gray!” would emanate from the driver and all passengers. Gray would smile and wave, sometimes calling a name back at the passersby.

Lizbeth admired Gray’s apparent magnetism among her fellow natives. She commented, “I see I’m not the only one you’ve charmed. You have quite the fan club.”

“Just islanders,” Gray said nonchalantly. “There’s barely over seven hundred of us year round, so I guess we gotta get along.”