“If you’re not ready for people to know, then you might just want to tell him it’s not working. That you feel differently than he does.”
“That makes sense.”
“But I do think he will eventually find out. You don’t exactly live in a metropolis where you and your new lover can just disappear into the crowd.”
Darlene called for them.
“You should probably go,” Carla said. “Suddenly having secret conversations with me, the well-known gay, won’t help your discretion any.” She smiled.
Tonya returned it. “Probably not.”
Carla patted her on the shoulder, hoping she did at least help her a little.
They all said their good-byes and Tonya whispered a thank you to her when they embraced. Carla gave her an extra squeeze and she and Erica watched them head back up the hill.
“What was that all about?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“She looked upset.”
“She’ll be okay.” Carla glanced at the boys who were fishing again.
“You, on the other hand, don’t look like you will be.”
“I’m so drained I’m about to pass out. You might have to leave me here for the crawdads to consume.”
“Then for heaven’s sake, go to bed.”
“Where? Darlene’s hell-bent on cleaning the house. And people will still be coming in and out all day.” Most of the relatives from out of town had gone home, but there were still a dozen or so local folks who would continue to drop by for the next few days at least to ensure they were adequately supplied with food and support. That was just how things went when someone passed away.
“There must be somewhere you can go to get some rest. I’d suggest staying with us at Grandma’s, but we’ve got a full house now with my family and Daddy and Uncle Rick. But you know, Carla, there are a lot of people in this town who would gladly take you in. All you’d have to do is ask.”
“I know. But I’d hate to ask. And everyone around here are pretty much in the same situation we are. Small house, big family. I probably wouldn’t get any more peace there than I have been here.”
And peace and quiet is what I’m after.
Erica suddenly brightened. “What about Janice?”
Carla startled.
“She said she offered you a place to stay. She was worried about your back, I think. Because you told her you were sleeping on Maurine’s couch.”
Carla allowed Janice’s words to replay in her mind.
You’re always welcome.
But would she really be okay with her staying?
She was so brain dead she couldn’t continue to contemplate. She was so tired she even cast aside her long-held worry that Maurine might get upset if she left.
She looked back up the hill at the gravel driveway next to her grandmother’s house. Two more vehicles had pulled in since she’d last checked and others would soon arrive as well. They’d want her time and attention, especially since she lived so far away and didn’t get to see everyone very often.
She felt awful that she dreaded interacting with them when they only meant well.
Maybe once I get some rest, I’ll feel better. I’ll feel up to it.
“It would be good for you,” Erica said, touching her arm. “You should take her up on her offer.”
“I think I might just do that,” she said as yet another car pulled into the drive.
I think I might just do that.
Chapter Eight
The house was quiet, save for the soothing sound of Eartha Kitt singing about love. Janice hummed along as she sat painting in her study. She was perched on a stool at her drafting table which wasn’t inclined, like its design was intended for, but flat and covered in newspaper. Various bisque ceramic chess pieces stood like little soldiers, waiting for their turn.
She turned the piece she held in her fingers carefully and continued painting the details of the knight with her liner brush. So far, she was satisfied with the deep, royal color scheme she’d chosen for this particular medieval style set. The completed pieces had turned out great and the knight was looking fantastic. She couldn’t wait to work on the more detailed pieces like the king and queen. She could already imagine how magnificent they were all going to look once finished and glossed. Only, she wasn’t quite sure yet what she was going to do with this set when she did finish. Sometimes she sold them, sometimes she kept them. And a choice few, she gave away. But currently, she was running low on space and she was beginning to doubt if she could let this one go to a stranger.
“I may have to find someone special to give you to,” she said, adjusting the arm on the light for a better look. “But who?”
The doorbell rang and she stared through the doorway into the dim hall, unsure she’d actually heard it. She checked the clock next to her framed vintage Twilight Zone poster. It was ten fifteen, late into the evening. She had friends that sometimes came by unannounced for a bite to eat and a casual chat, but that was usually in the early afternoon or around supper time. A visit this late from one of them would be unusual.
It rang again and she put down the knight and brush and stood. She rubbed her hands on her old blue jeans as she headed for the door, trying to remove any wet paint from her fingertips. She hurried into the living room and slid the cover of the peephole aside. She went to her tiptoes to peer through.
“Oh, my Lord.” She stepped back and covered her mouth in complete astonishment. “Oh, my Lord.”
She held her throat, worried her voice would fail her. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door. Carla Sims stood just beyond the worn screen.
“Hey,” Carla said with a soft smile. Her face was partially shaded under the brim of what she recognized as an Arizona State ball cap. The shadow from the hat and the trickery from the porch light somehow sharpened her features. And those gorgeous features, along with the sinewy look to her bare arms in the white tank top she had on, made it difficult for Janice to process and make sense of her presence.
“Hey,” was the result of that difficulty.
“I tried to call,” she said. “A few times, actually.”
“Oh, I turn off my cell and my home phone when I—need to relax.”
Carla slid her hand in the pocket of her cutoff jeans and Janice tried very hard not to openly gawk at her, but her legs, like her arms, were long and sinewy, and she looked so southern tomboy in that outfit, right down to the white canvas sneakers she wore with no socks. And it became clear to Janice that she’d never see another woman who moved her more than Carla Sims did at that very moment. She knew there would never be anyone else who could totally and completely overwhelm and arouse her just by standing on her front porch on a hot summer night in cutoffs and a tank top. No one. And though she knew it, she had trouble allowing herself to accept it. That was something she was still struggling with. But even if she did accept all the thoughts and feelings her recent discoveries had evoked in her, she didn’t have a clue what she would do about it.
While Janice’s sluggish mind was suddenly reawakened and running wild, Carla seemed to be either sensing her inner chaos or she was experiencing some of her own, because she looked uneasy and began rubbing the back of her neck like she’d done under that tree at the funeral. Now, however, Janice worried that the gesture signified more than physical discomfort.