Pushing a limp looking serving of pasta salad around on her plate, Ryan muttered, "I’m gonna get a vitamin deficiency if we’re here much longer."

Jordan looked up in surprise. "I think the food is pretty darned good—for dorm food, that is."

Ryan nodded, placing another forkful of the salad in her mouth. "It tastes all right," she agreed, "but they don’t give us any fresh veggies…and the only ripe fruit I’ve seen is bananas."

"So…you’re a health nut?" One blonde eyebrow was raised as high as it could go. "I’ve seen you shovel a load of junk into your mouth in the short time I’ve known you, O’Flaherty."

"Nah, I’m not a health nut. I just need a lot of fuel, and I feel better when I get the majority of my calories from fruits and veggies."

"Maybe we should all go out for dinner tonight. I think Coach likes it when we do things as a group."

"Okay," Ryan said, "but I doubt we’ll eat any better if we go out. It would be nice to get off campus though. I’m going a little stir crazy."

"I’ll check with the coaching staff and see if any of them will drive the van. Do you care where we go?"

"Nah…I like everything. I just have to stop at an ATM before we go."

Jordan’s curiosity got the better of her tact. "Do you guys share money, or what?"

Ryan blushed just a little and nodded. "In a way we do, but I don’t have much to contribute. I had to quit my job before we came down here."

"Wait a minute! Now you’re telling me that she supports you? No wonder you’re monogamous!"

Jordan made this statement with a smile on her face, and her tone was light, but Ryan gave her a penetrating glare and growled, "I hope that was a joke."

"Yeah, of course it was," Jordan said quickly, her brow furrowing slightly. "Did that piss you off?"

"Look," Ryan said firmly, "you can tease me about anything. I can take it. But don’t even imply that I’m using Jamie. She means everything to me, and I don’t like to have our relationship called into question. If I had my choice, she’d be poorer than I am. Her money has caused us more problems than it’s worth, in my opinion. It’s not always a blessing."

"I’m really sorry, Ryan. I didn’t mean to imply that you were using her—I’d never think that about you. It was just a bad joke. I promise I won’t do it again," she said with conviction.

Ryan gave her a half smile. "It’s okay. I think I overreacted a little," she admitted. "It’s just that most of our problems with her father seem to be because of her money."

"Does she really have a lot?"

"Yeah. It’s clearly enough to be concerned about. And I don’t blame him for trying to protect her. It just pisses me off when people assume that the poorer person is trying to scam the richer person in a relationship. I know people from every socioeconomic group, Jordan, and I’ll tell you this, I’d leave my valuables with a poor person over a rich one every time."

* * * * * * * * * * *

The sailors arrived back in Newport late in the afternoon. The salt air, brisk breeze, warm sun, and glare on the water combined to make everyone long for a nap, and as soon as they returned to the house, that’s just where most members of the family headed.

Jamie purposely delayed going upstairs until she saw Trey headed towards his room. Dashing up the stairs, Jamie intercepted her cousin when he was halfway up the long staircase. "Your room or mine?" she asked without preamble.

He gave a start and looked like he was going to wave her off, but Jamie narrowed her eyes and said, "Those are your only options, Trey."

Shrugging his shoulders, he followed her to her room, taking a seat near the window. "I heard you and Steph had a little incident this morning," he said, with about as much emotion as he would have shown if they were merely speaking about the menu choices for dinner.

"That’s one way to characterize it," Jamie said, cocking her head at her cousin’s cavalier attitude. "I guess finding your drugs on the floor of her room is an incident."

He nodded, his demeanor still casual. "So…what is there to talk about, Jamie? Steph was telling the truth. I’ve had a relapse, and I’m trying to get admitted somewhere. My counselor is probably trying to get hold of me right now." He looked longingly at the door as if his confession should be the end of this unwanted discussion, but his determined cousin was not through with him yet.

Having almost died as the result of a drug overdose, Trey knew the consequences of his actions better than any Jamie could point out. Her primary goal now was to make a difference where she still could. "Is Stephanie doing drugs with you, Trey? I know that she uses, too."

He looked genuinely shocked at the mere suggestion that their younger cousin could share this habit with him. "No! She just smokes a little grass, Jamie. I’m sure she doesn’t do anything dangerous. Why would you even think that?"

"That doesn’t matter," she started.

"Julia’s put that idea in your head, hasn’t she?" he hazarded.

"I’d rather not say, Trey. What’s important is whether or not Stephanie needs treatment also."

"Look, Jamie, you know that Julia and Steph don’t get along. Julia is trying to get her parents to let her stay home and go to school locally. What better way to get what she wants than to tell her parents that the school is some breeding ground for drug habits? Trust me—I know that Steph isn’t doing hard drugs."

"Fine," she said, not believing his carefully contrived story. "I’m still going to talk to Adam and Carolyn. They need to know that she’s smoking grass, and I’m going to tell them that she might be doing hard drugs."

Finally exhibiting some emotion, the young man pushed to his feet and hovered next to Jamie’s chair. He looked at her curiously, his anger just beneath the surface. "Why do you want to screw with her like that? This is really none of your business, Jamie."

"It is my business to stop a sixteen-year-old from going down the same self-destructive path you chose, Trey," Jamie snapped, her voice rising in volume. "You’re an adult, Trey, and you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Stephanie should at least get the chance to reach adulthood!"

"You’re being melodramatic, Jamie," he said, his face a mask of boredom. "Are you the only person in California that thinks grass kills? Jesus, my grandfather knows more than that!"

"You can insult me, and you can try to make me doubt myself, but it’s not going to work, Trey. I’m talking to Adam and Carolyn today, and if you’re not in rehab by tomorrow, I’m talking to your parents, as well."

"How am I supposed to manage that without everyone knowing, Jamie?" Now his anger was showing plainly, his voice rising precipitously. "Steph told you that my grandfather will cut me off if he finds out. What am I supposed to do then?"

"Well," she mused sarcastically, "you could do something wild like stop doing drugs and perhaps even get a job!"

"Yeah, all this money lying around here, and I’m supposed to get a job. That’s fair!"

"Fair or not—I’m talking to your parents if you’re not signed into some place by tomorrow. That’s it, Trey."

He glared at her for a full minute, his eyes flashing with rage. "Thanks for ruining my life, Jamie. Thanks a lot!"

As he stormed out of her room, she held her tongue, thinking, You beat me to the punch, Trey.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Once again, Bob Nymoen, their strength and fitness trainer, agreed to transport the team to downtown Santa Cruz. For the second night in a row, Erin Malloy, their assistant coach, accompanied him, and the team members were quietly gossiping about a possible love match the whole way to the restaurant. Jordan had picked the eatery, and as the fourteen women entered, Ryan wished that the choice had not been left to her friend.

The place was more bar than restaurant, and the state’s prohibition on smoking in bars was obviously not being enforced at this place. When Ryan gave Jordan a suspicious glance, the tall blonde shrugged her shoulders and said, "This was the only place that had a separate room for us to sit in. The food’s good—even though the atmosphere is a little lacking."

"It’s lacking all right," Ryan muttered, deciding that since they were there they might as well make the best of it.

The place catered to a college aged crowd and it was quite full, even on this Thursday evening. A harried hostess got them settled, and a few minutes later, when their appetizers were delivered, Ryan was pleased to find that the food was actually quite good. "This was a good choice," Ryan complimented her friend. "Ambiance is highly overrated in my book."

When everyone was finished with their entrees, many of the women drifted into the main room to play darts or one of the video games. Ryan didn’t join them, preferring to stay in their private room and chat without the grating noise of the jukebox in the main area. One by one the other team members dispersed until only Ryan and the freshmen remained. Cami was sitting by Ryan and when she got up to use the rest room, a very pleasant looking man walked into the room and slid into her seat. Ryan turned and started to ask him what he was doing there, but he quickly introduced himself.

"Hi," he said, extending his hand. "I’m Rob Thomasson. Mind if I join you?"

"Well, actually, Rob, my friend was sitting here, and I think she’d like her chair back." The three remaining freshmen, sitting on the other side of the table, got up and left, giggling the whole time. All of the young women crowded into the rest room with Cami, leaving Ryan with Rob, much to her annoyance.

"Hmm," he said brightly, "looks like your friend doesn’t want her chair back. Can I keep it?"

Ryan assessed the young man trying to chat her up. He looked to be close to her age—maybe 25 or 26—with dark, slightly wavy hair, parted down the middle and stylishly long. His face was quite handsome, but he had the pink cheeks of a young kid, which softened his features and made him look very approachable. His light blue eyes were friendly and warm, and when he gave her a very bright smile, she found herself smiling back. This is a switch, she thought with an internal smirk. Strangely, men had not often approached Ryan, for which she was totally grateful. Even though she was very good looking, she didn’t give off vibes that made her seem interested in them, and nearly all sober men caught on to that. Add to that the fact that she rarely went to predominantly straight bars, and her chances of being picked up were quite slim.

"I don’t mind if you sit here, Rob," she said, in her normal friendly manner, "but I think you could get a better return on the investment of your time from one of my teammates. Still, if you don’t mind talking to a married woman, be my guest."

"You’re married?" he asked, quite surprised that this young woman would be attached. "You don’t wear a ring." Taking her hand in his, he traced his thumb over her bare ring finger, just to make his point.

Pointedly removing her hand from his grasp, she said, "No, I don’t, but that doesn’t make my relationship any less valid. Nor does the fact that we’re not allowed to be legally married. I’m irrevocably, permanently partnered."

"Not allowed…?"

"We’re both women," Ryan said, a broad smile on her face.

"Ohhhh…" he said slowly. "You’re…" He waggled his brow, drawing a chuckle from Ryan.

"Yeah, we’re…" she replicated his facial gesture, and he joined her in laughter. "That’s why I think you could have a little more success with one of my single friends."

"Now what makes you think I came over to talk to you just because you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen," he drawled, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Because that’s just the look I used to use when I was trying to pick up a woman," she laughed. "It worked pretty well, too."

"You know," he chuckled, leaning back in the chair. "I think I’d rather talk to you than anybody else here…even if you won’t go out with me."

"Fine with me," she said agreeably. "My name’s Ryan." She extended her hand, and he gave it a shake.

"You’re pretty well set on this lesbian thing, huh Ryan?" he asked conversationally.

"Yep. I’d say I’m pretty set on it. If I did go out with you, which I won’t of course, you’d be my first date with a boy."

"Whoa…" he said, his eyes wide. "That’s remarkable! Tell me how you discovered you were gay, Ryan?" With that, they engaged in a very pleasant conversation that lasted well into the evening. Ryan found that she was entirely comfortable in his presence, and once he stopped teasing her, Rob proved to be a very enjoyable companion. He seemed genuinely interested in Ryan and gay life in general, a topic that he claimed little knowledge of. It was after nine when Jordan came back into the room and announced, "The bus is leaving, pal. You’d best be on it, unless you’ve got alternate plans for the evening."

"Get in here, you goofball," Ryan laughed, introducing Jordan to Rob.

He looked at Ryan for a second and asked, "Is Jordan…" waggling his eyebrows again.

"No," Ryan said honestly, grinning at him. "She’s susceptible to the charms of men."

Jordan batted her eyes, doing a much better job than Ryan was capable of. Rob looked back at Ryan and lamented, "I’ve just spent the better part of the evening talking to a woman that I have zero chance with while your gorgeous friend was hanging around all alone?"

"Don’t say I didn’t try to steer you in another direction," Ryan teased.

"Lucky for me I had a really nice time talking to you, Ryan. Now I’ll just go cry in my beer for the rest of the night." He got up, mumbling, "Two gorgeous women…and I spend the whole evening with the lesbian." Turning towards Ryan, he winked and whispered, "I had a lot of fun tonight. Let me know if you ever want to switch teams."

Taking his offered business card, she smiled as she flicked her thumb against the edge. "Not likely, Rob. The grass seems pretty darned green on my side of the fence."

"Hey, you never know," he said brightly, as he shook her hand and went back to his friends in the main room.

"Sometimes you do," she murmured, folding the card neatly and tossing it into an ashtray.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After dinner at the cottage, Jamie gathered her courage and gave her mother a nod as they left the dining room. She then approached Adam and Carolyn with an invitation. "Mother and I are going for a walk in the garden. Care to join us?"

"Sure, Jamie," Adam said. "Let me see if the girls would like to come with."

Placing a restraining hand on his arm, Jamie shook her head. "There’s something we’d like to talk to you both about. Do you mind if we go alone?"

"Okay," he said, a touch of hesitation in his voice as he glanced at his wife for agreement.

As they walked down the crushed gravel pathways, Jamie approached the difficult subject. "I hope you don’t think that I’m intruding in your business, but I’d like to talk to you about Stephanie."

"What has she done now?" Carolyn asked with a resigned sigh.

"I’m pretty sure she’s been using drugs," she responded quietly.

"Oh," Adam said, nodding briefly, "we’re aware of that, Jamie. We’re not crazy about it, but all the kids smoke pot. We just decided not to make a big deal about it, since it is relatively innocuous. I mean, we all smoked when we were her age, didn’t we Catherine?"

"Well, no, I didn’t Adam. Not when I was sixteen."

That was equivocal, Jamie thought to herself. It never occurred to me that mother might have smoked grass. I guess it makes sense, though, given her age.

Adam raised an eyebrow, but continued making his point. "Well, I smoked grass when I was sixteen, and it didn’t permanently affect my life in any negative way. I really prefer it to alcohol for someone Stephanie’s age, to tell you the truth."

"How do you feel about heroin, or cocaine?" Jamie asked, getting to the crux of her concerns.

Both Adam and Carolyn stopped abruptly, staring at Jamie in unison. "What do you know?" Adam asked, not looking terribly surprised.

"I found something on her floor when I went to wake her," Jamie informed him. "It was either heroin or cocaine, I’m not sure which."

"God damn it!" Adam muttered, collapsing heavily onto one of the garden benches. "I knew she was lying!"

"You knew?" Catherine gasped, amazed that her cousin would allow his young daughter to hang around with Trey if he suspected her of drug use.

"No, we didn’t know," Carolyn said, laying her hand on her husband’s back. "We just had some suspicions. I called her psychiatrist, and he assured me that he would know if she was doing anything dangerous." Shaking her head she muttered, "I always thought he was a quack."

"Well, we’re going to have to do something," Adam said. "If mother finds out, she’ll have a fit!"

"Maybe we can find some place near her school for her to get treatment," Carolyn mused. "Then she’ll be nearby during the year."

Gee, I wonder if we can get a family discount at the Betty Ford Clinic, Jamie thought wryly. They sure don’t seem very upset about this. They must realize that it could be life-threatening.

"Is there anything we can do?" Catherine asked. "We’ll help in any way that we can."

Adam looked at her for a long minute, finally nodding his head. "As a matter of fact, you can, Catherine. Your Italian is a lot better than mine. Would you call some of your friends in Italy and find out if there is a good drug treatment center near Rome? I think we have to get her the hell out of this country."

"Really?" Jamie was a little stunned, but as she let it sink in, she thought that perhaps getting Stephanie away from her current set of friends wasn’t really such a bad idea. "Would you move to Italy full time?"

"We’ve talked about doing that anyway," Carolyn said. "Adam’s commitments keep him in Europe for so much of the year that having the girls with us would be nice. Actually, I’ve heard of a wonderful boarding school in Milan where all of the Ferrari children go. That way they’d be close."

New continent, same parenting, Jamie mused, thoroughly disheartened.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Once the team arrived back at the dorm, the players decided to gather in the lounge at the end of the hall to watch a little TV. Ryan was sitting on the couch enduring the playful teasing of about six of her teammates. "So what’s up with the guy who was hitting on you, Ryan?" Erika asked.

"He wasn’t hitting on me," Ryan scoffed. "We were just talking."

"So…he didn’t ask you out?" Amy chimed in.

"Well…I guess he did kinda ask me out, but I told him immediately that I wasn’t his type."

Heather and Cami came into the room just as Ryan was answering, and they both joined in. "He was sure my type!" Cami exclaimed. "Why wouldn’t you go out with him?"

Everyone but the two freshmen laughed at the comment, but neither young woman got the joke. "Ryan’s gay," Grace said, putting words to the open secret.

Ryan shrugged her shoulders amiably, nodding her confirmation. She had purposely not made an announcement about her sexual orientation, preferring to just live her life and let people figure it out. Jamie had gone on their team run several times, and they acted perfectly naturally in front of the team, kissing lightly if the whim struck, holding hands, and exhibiting their usual signs of affection. Now that the issue was out on the table, she thought it wise to be frank about it, preferring to head off any problems if any of the women were ill at ease with it. "Yes, my name is Ryan, and I’m a lesbian. Any questions?"

She looked around the room, seeing nothing but calm acceptance. Until her eyes met Heather’s. The young woman blushed deeply, and averted her gaze, suddenly finding the pattern in the carpet absolutely fascinating. Oh-oh. May be trouble here, Ryan thought. I’d better talk to her privately.

"I have a question," Jordan said, batting her big blue eyes at Ryan.

"Does anybody besides Jordan have a question?" Ryan teased, preferring not to set herself up for any more taunting from her friend.

"Nah. We’ve been talking about you since the first morning you came on a run," Amy laughed. "I’m sure your real life isn’t as exciting as the one we’re dreamed up for you."

"Don’t be too sure about that," Jordan began, but Ryan snaked an arm around her and pulled her onto the couch beside her, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"I lead a perfectly ordinary life, though I’m partnered with a perfectly extraordinary woman," Ryan smiled. "I’m not even particularly kinky…although Jordan does bring out my hidden sadistic side," she mused as she used her free hand to swat her friend sharply on her perfectly positioned ass.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After their talk with Adam and Carolyn, Jamie and Catherine returned to the house, leaving the Whitmores to discuss their plans for dealing with Stephanie’s drug problem. David, Patsy, Louise and Oliver were all sitting in the game room, playing a dispirited hand of bridge, when the Evans women walked in.

Patsy gave them a smile and said, "We just decided to have some Calvados," a delightful apple liquor that Jamie was quite fond of. "Will you join us?"

Catherine nodded her assent, and Jamie offered, "I’ll go ask the waiter to include us."

"No, no," Patsy insisted. "They’ll see that you’re here. Let them do their jobs, Jamie. That’s why they’re called servants, Dear."

She nodded at her aunt as she sat down in a club chair to watch the game. Please God, don’t ever let me think of people like that. Seconds later Daniel came scampering over to ask for her order. "Hi," Jamie said with a friendly smile.

"Good evening, Miss. What can I get for you?" She noticed that he looked absolutely exhausted, and recalled that he had also been on duty at breakfast, which was 16 hours ago.

Deciding to skip the alcohol this evening she said, "I’d like some iced tea, if you have it."

"Long Island or regular, Miss?" he asked quietly, just to make sure she was still on her temperance binge.

"Regular, please. No sugar."

As the young man quietly left the room, Jamie’s great-uncle turned in her direction and said, "I haven’t had the chance to speak with you much, Jamie," Oliver Whitmore said. Tell me what’s been going on in your life."

Let’s see, she thought. I found out I was attracted to women a few months ago. I have a really hot girlfriend who is to die for, and my father wants to have her killed. Deciding that was probably more information than the family would want, she said, "Nothing too exciting, Uncle Oliver. I’ll be a senior this year, I’m still living in the house my parents bought in Berkeley, and I’m thinking about going to graduate school. You know, just the usual college stuff."

"We were surprised to hear that you had broken up with your fiancé, Dear. Now, what was his name?"

"Jack," she said simply, hoping to get off the subject quickly.

"Yes, Jack. We never got to meet him. Has he been replaced?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Hmm, how do I answer that one without lying? "I don’t think you can replace people, Uncle Oliver. But no, I don’t have another boyfriend." I’m not lying, Ryan, you’re a long way from a boy.

"Well, you’ll surely meet someone this year. You’re too pretty a girl to stay unattached for long," he said in a completely patronizing tone of voice.

"Thank you," she replied, mentally rolling her eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Although she had rejoined the group for only a few minutes, Heather got up and said she was heading to bed. Waiting until she left the room, Ryan stood and said, "I need to call Jamie. I’ll come back when I’m finished." Waving off the teasing and catcalls that were immediately forthcoming, she followed the freshman down the hall. Catching up with her, she asked, "Hey, could I talk to you for a minute?"

The young woman tried to avoid looking at the senior, her pale blue eyes darting all over the hallway. "Um…I’m really tired…"

"Won’t take long." They were near Ryan’s room, and she opened the door before Heather could protest. "Come on in."

Looking very hesitant, the young woman entered the room, standing awkwardly while Ryan sat down on the bed. Trying her best to appear non-intimidating, Ryan smiled at the young outside hitter, but Heather was once again doing her best to look at anything but Ryan. Gazing at her thoughtfully, Ryan saw some of herself in the young woman. She was tall, probably about six foot, and had the beginnings of a muscular build, even though she was currently fairly willowy. Her dark brown hair was usually pulled back in a braid, but tonight it hung around her shoulders, giving her thin face a more rounded look. Her skin was generally pale, but tonight her cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment or discomfort Ryan did not know, but she was determined to try to find out. "Umm…would you like to sit down, Heather?"

The older woman twitched her head towards Jordan’s bed, but Heather shook her head vigorously. "No," she said, her voice cracking like an adolescent’s, "I’m good."

"Okay…" Ryan wasn’t really sure of where to start, and the discomfort that was radiating off her teammate was not helping her confidence. Deciding to just go for it she said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Uhh…sure." Her pale blue eyes finally lighted on Ryan, and she cocked her head a little.

"Does my being gay make you uncomfortable?"

Without warning, Heather suddenly found Jordan’s bed very attractive. She sank onto the mattress, her back to Ryan. "Uhh…why do you ask?"

Thank you for not lying, Ryan thought, pleased that her teammate was trying to be honest. "I ask because you look uncomfortable, and you seem to be having a hard time looking at me, and I don’t want this to become an issue for the team, or for us." After a pause she added, "It’s not that uncommon for people to be uncomfortable around lesbians, Heather. I’m used to it."

"I…I guess I’m a little uncomfortable," she admitted, her voice very faint. "I just don’t think I’ve ever met a um…lesbian before."

Ryan considered that for a moment, and acknowledged that fact wasn’t terribly surprising. She recalled that Heather was from a very small agricultural town in the San Joaquin Valley, and it made sense that she might not have been exposed to much diversity in her relatively sheltered life on the farm. "We’re not that bad a bunch, once you get to know us," Ryan teased, pleased when she saw the young woman’s shoulders relax a little.

"It’s just different," Heather said, still facing the wall. "I thought they were kidding."

"Who was kidding?" Ryan asked.

"The other players. They don’t really tell us much, ‘cause we’re freshmen, but I heard some of them say that you were gay. I thought they were kidding," she admitted. "I um…didn’t know that gay people looked like you."

"That’s true," Ryan said slowly. "Most lesbians are much shorter than I am."

At that comment Heather turned and caught sight of Ryan’s laughing eyes. "You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?" Her lower lip was stuck out a little, and she was gazing over at Ryan from beneath half-lowered lids.

"I’m just teasing you, Heather. Don’t you like to be teased?"

"Umm…I guess," she hesitated. "I’m just not used to it."

"Don’t you have any siblings?"

"No. I’m an only child."

"Well, I can guarantee that you’re going to take a lot of ribbing with this group. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Um…I’ll try. This is just a lot for me to handle all at once, ya know?"

God, she reminds me of myself when I started high school! "I do know, Heather, and I’ll try to keep the other players from going after you too hard, but you’re going to owe me a favor if I do that."

Turning completely around, the young woman looked at Ryan with wide eyes. "What do I have to do?"

Ryan’s warm smile reassured her slightly, and her words did even more so. "You have to talk to me when things are bothering you. You can ask me any question that you want…I’ll always be honest with you, Heather. We’re teammates now, and we have to take care of each other."

The younger woman nodded, paused a moment and asked, "Have you always been gay?"

"Yeah. I’ve always been gay, but my lover hasn’t," she supplied, knowing that Jamie wouldn’t mind having her history divulged in the name of education. "Some women know very early, and it takes some a long time to come to terms with it. It’s different for everybody."

"Do you ever wish you weren’t…gay, that is?" She was now looking at a point somewhere near Ryan’s midsection, and the older woman considered that significant progress.

"No. I really like who I am. To me that’s like wishing I was short. It’s just not gonna happen." Pausing a moment, Ryan asked, "Have you ever wished that you weren’t?" At Heather’s shocked look, Ryan added, "Tall, that is."

"OH! No, no…well, um…yeah, now that you mention it. It was hard being the tallest girl in my class. I used to wish I didn’t stand out so much."

"You know, Jamie, my partner, used to feel that way about being attracted to women. She didn’t want to stand out. But over time she’s gotten over that, and I think she’s pretty happy with herself now. Everybody has something they’d like to change at some point in their lives, Heather. But it’s hard to be happy if you don’t learn to accept yourself for who you are."

Heather gave her a grin and said, "I like being tall now. Being tall got me this scholarship—I never could have gone to a school like this without one." She blushed a little and added, "Being tall gave me the chance to be on a team with some pretty cool people, too. Thanks, Ryan." She stood and looked at her teammate a little tentatively. "Umm…can I go now?"

"Dismissed," Ryan smiled, snapping off a salute.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As soon as she could make her getaway, Jamie excused herself and headed for bed. She dropped her clothes to the floor as she walked across the room and plucked a T-shirt from the dresser. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she settled down on the window seat to stare out at the inky stillness of the ocean at low tide. The night was very warm, not even a breeze coming through the open window, and as she stared out at the night sky she felt a few tears start to roll down her cheeks. A few minutes later she was startled out of her mood by a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in," she said flatly.

Catherine opened the door and stepped in, shutting it quietly behind her. Seeing the bereft look on her daughter’s face, she immediately crossed over to the window and sat down. "What’s wrong, Honey?" she asked as she caught the tears with a fingertip. "Has all of this started to get to you?"

"A little, but mostly I miss Ryan," she said as she started to cry more forcefully.

Catherine scooted closer and pulled her daughter near, running her fingers through her hair and patting her back gently as she let her cry for a while. A wave of sadness hit her as well, and she said, "I can’t tell you how much I regret not holding you like this when you were small. We both missed out on so much."

Sniffing softly, Jamie looked up with red-rimmed eyes and asked, "Why didn’t you?"

Catherine closed her eyes and let the memories fill her mind, trying to recall the young woman she had been 20 years ago. "I’m not sure, Honey," she said, the sadness feeling like a sharp pain in her stomach. "I guess I just didn’t know how."

"I don’t understand that, Mom," she said, her lower lip quivering. "Didn’t you want to hold me?"

"Of course I did," Catherine said, holding Jamie close. "You just didn’t react well to me. When your father held you, you quieted down immediately, but when I did it, you always fussed even more. Either he or Elizabeth used to take you from me almost immediately," she sniffed. "I thought you didn’t like me."

Now Jamie cried even harder, her tears merging with her mother’s as they both mourned for the wasted opportunities of those early years—irredeemably lost forever. "I don’t ever remember not liking you. I thought you didn’t like me," she choked out.

Pulling back slightly, Catherine fixed her daughter with a fierce stare, her brown eyes flashing with an inner fire. "I loved you then…and I love you now. I love you more than I’ve ever loved another soul, Jamie. You mean the whole world to me! I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to show you that then."

Clinging tightly to her mother, Jamie released some of the hurt and pain that she had been storing in her heart for so many years. "Thanks, Mom," she said finally. "That means a lot to me."

"I have so much to make up for, Jamie. It’s not too late, is it?"

Catherine had such a hopeful look in her eyes that Jamie would have told her it wasn’t, even if it was. Luckily, she was able to answer honestly. "It’s not too late, Mom. Not at all."

"God, I’ve been hoping for this," Catherine sighed, resting her head on her daughter’s shoulder. "You don’t know how much."

Jamie kissed the fine blonde hair and asked the question that had been in her mind for weeks. "What made you decide to try to get closer to me?"

Taking in a heavy breath, Catherine wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smiling when Jamie pulled one of her enormous T-shirt sleeves out and dabbed at her eyes. "Thanks," she said. Looking at the inscription on the shirt, she smiled and asked, "Ryan’s?"

Jamie looked down and blushed as she read the front of her shirt. "Um…I’m not really a Lesbian Avenger…and neither is she. She just likes T-shirts with a message." Blushing even more fiercely she admitted, "I took it out of the dirty clothes so it would smell like her."

"When I was young I used to wear your father’s dress shirts before I had them sent to the cleaners. Elizabeth thought I was mad." She chuckled softly, adding, "Marta used to take them from the laundry chute for me. I think she approved."

"She would," Jamie agreed. "Too bad Marta wasn’t my nanny. I think we would have done much better as a family."

"I couldn’t agree more," Catherine said. "Although having Elizabeth for a cook would have been frightening also!"

"Good point," Jamie agreed, the elderly Englishwoman’s penchant for the blandest of foods legendary in their house.

Now that the wash of emotion had passed, the embrace they shared began to feel a little too intimate for both of them, and they slowly broke apart, but not before Jamie leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her mother’s cheek. "Let’s do that again soon, okay?" she asked, putting words to her fear that this developing closeness might evaporate.

Catherine gazed at her and smiled, nodding her head slightly as she did so. "We have a lot of hugs to make up for, Jamie. I’ll do my best."

The younger woman stood and stretched, releasing some of the tension and sadness that had been building up in her body. "You didn’t answer my question," she prodded, as she recalled getting sidetracked. "I really think you made the first move here. What made you decide to do so?"

"I might have made the first move, but you’re entirely responsible for that, Dear. I saw the light when I came to your house this past spring to ask you about your relationship with Ryan."

"Huh? Why did that make you want to be closer? I thought you were angry with me."

"I was, Jamie. I was angry that we didn’t have the kind of relationship where you felt safe to be honest with me. The next week I got on the phone and found a therapist. I’ve been seeing her twice a week ever since."

"You have?!"

"Yes, I have, and it’s been wonderfully helpful. She’s helped me see how much of the distance between us is just a legacy of my family. But she also helps me realize that just because I was raised that way, doesn’t make it all right to continue the tradition with you. I’m responsible for my actions—irrespective of how I was brought up."

"That’s true," Jamie said thoughtfully. "We are each responsible for our actions. That’s why we need to make sure we keep talking like this. We have only ourselves to blame if we don’t try to make our relationship better."

Catherine got up from the window seat and crossed the room to stand directly in front of her daughter, the light scent of her perfume wafting on the air to reach Jamie seconds before her mother did. Catherine placed one small hand atop each of Jamie’s shoulders and tilted her head up to be able to gaze directly into her taller daughter’s eyes. "This is a life goal for me, Jamie. I know that I’ll never be the best mother in the world, but I promise to try to be the best that I can be."

Sniffling away the latest wave of tears, Jamie nodded her head, unable to reply with words. She wrapped her arms around the remarkably thin waist and held her close, relishing the comfort and security of a mother’s love.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Hi, Sweetheart." Ryan’s deep voice came through the phone line clearly, making her sound like she was nearby, rather than 3,000 miles away. "I didn’t wake you, did I?"

"No, no," Jamie sniffed a little, looking around the room for a tissue. Catherine handed her one and gave a small wave as she walked towards their adjoining door. "Mother and I were just talking."

"Honey? Are you crying?" Ryan’s voice was immediately full of concern, and Jamie smiled broadly as she soaked up the love she could feel speeding her way through the phone line.

"Just a little, Love. But they’re good tears." She paused a moment, trying to decide how to characterize her feelings. "I just realized that I’ve felt more loved in the past three months than I have in the previous 21 years."

"Even with the problems you’ve had with your father?" The question was out before Ryan could censor herself, and she mentally kicked herself since she had decided to wait until her partner was home to tell her about Jim’s visit.

"Yeah." Jamie paused a beat then added, "I’m angry with him, but I don’t feel that he loves me any less than he did before. I just think he’s misguided, Hon. I’m hoping that by the time I get back he will have had some time to reflect on this, and be able to be more open minded."

"That would be nice," Ryan agreed. It’s not gonna happen, but it would be nice. "So tell me about these happiness tears," she asked.

"I’ve got so much to tell you, Love, but it’s too late to go into detail. Let me just say that this is the second best trip of my life. I’m so glad that I came."

"What was the absolute best?" Ryan asked, having a pretty good idea that she accompanied her partner on the one in question.

"That’s a toughie," Jamie teased. "It’s either the summer Olympics in Barcelona in ‘92…or being on the AIDS Ride with you."

"Hmm…I can see why that would be a tough choice. Either being up close with some of the most gifted athletes of our time, watching people show off their gorgeous bodies, seeing people perform feats that you could barely imagine…or going to the Olympics. I think it’s a flip."

"It’s a flip all right," she giggled. "God, I miss you. Nobody makes me laugh like you do."

"Me either," Ryan sighed. "I enjoy your sense of humor more than anyone else’s I know."

"I enjoy every one of my senses when I’m with you," Jamie murmured. "I was thinking today about what I miss the most. It was a very difficult job, since a thousand different things came to mind, but I think I came up with the answer."

"Don’t tell me, let me guess," Ryan said, thinking for a moment. "Is it a part of my body?"

"Mmm-hmm."

""Let’s see…a part of my body. Do I have two of them?"

"Mmm-hmm. You sure do."

"Is it the part of me that you can’t wait to get your hands on when we make love?"

"Nope. Not even close."

"You like a part of me better than my breasts? I’m stunned!"

"Hey, just because I have a fetish doesn’t mean that I’m fixated only on your luscious breasts. I like other parts of you equally well."

"That’s good to know," Ryan said. "I was beginning to feel objectified," she sniffed. It was clear that she was kidding, Jamie’s interest in her breasts a long-standing point for teasing between them.

"The things I miss most about you don’t even factor into my arousal—give up?" They loved to play guessing games, and it was no small issue that Ryan almost invariably won. Today, Jamie was confident that she had her stumped, and she was wringing every bit of satisfaction she could from that fact.

"Hmm…at this point I’m just guessing, so I’ll say that you miss my eyes." Before Jamie could reply, Ryan’s voice dropped into its lowest register, causing a warm tingle to inch its way up Jamie’s spine. "When I look at you, I know that you can see in my eyes how much love I have for you, how much I respect you, how much I desire you. You can see the unquenchable need I have to be near you and to share my life with you. I know that you can look into my eyes and see that you make all of my dreams come true, and that you’re the answer to every prayer I’ve ever made."

A low, slow whistle came from Jamie’s end of the phone, and she murmured, "I thought I missed your hands the most, but I just changed my mind. Lord, Ryan, the things you do to me with just a few words."

"Ummm, my hands…don’t get me started on what I’d like to do to you with my hands," she whispered.

"Oh, Ryan, I need to see you. I miss you so much…My world just doesn’t feel right when you’re not beside me."

"I know, Love, I know," she soothed. "I feel the same. Only two more nights, though, and we’ll be together again."

"Two more nights after this one, my little optimist," she reminded her.

"Just trying to put the best spin on things," Ryan admitted.

"Well, I hope you clear your calendar for the first two days that I’m home, Love, because you’re not going to see the light of day. Actually, your feet might not hit the floor."

"I’ve got a teensy little bit of bad news on that front," Ryan said. "Annie paged me earlier today and said that Tommy’s days off got switched. He’s off from Sunday afternoon until Thursday. I uh…I said I’d pick the baby up on Sunday morning so they could get ready to leave."

"So we’re gonna have Caitlin from the minute I get back?" Jamie tried to contain her disappointment, but she failed miserably.

"It’ll be okay, Babe. We’ll figure something out so that we can have some alone time."

"How soundly does she sleep?" Jamie asked, only partially kidding.

"Not that soundly," Ryan laughed. "Don’t worry, Honey. We’ll have our time together. I promise."

"I sure hope so," Jamie sighed. "Now that you’ve turned me into a sexual being, you can’t just pull the plug on me!"

"I’ve got a week’s worth of love saved up for you, Sweetheart," Ryan crooned. "This little bout of abstinence is the longest I’ve gone without for a very, very long time. Lefty thinks I’m mad at her!"

"Poor Lefty," Jamie empathized. "You kiss her and tell her that she’ll be put to good use soon. I think she’s kinda partial to me now, anyway, Ryan. She’s probably glad for the rest."

Kissing her left hand audibly, Ryan informed her partner, "She’s waving at you, Babe. Says she misses you and that you are the favorite."

"Heh heh. I’m winning over all of your body parts…one by one. Soon I’ll have complete control over you, Buffy."

"You already have my heart, Jamie. That’s the most important part."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Part 10

After a quick breakfast, Jamie decided that she needed to get her heart rate up for the first time all week. Ryan’s down in Santa Cruz working her ass off, and I’m sitting on mine eating enough butter and cream for a small country! She wasn’t familiar enough with the neighborhood to feel comfortable going for an extended run, so she decided to swim. No one else was up yet, since it was only seven o’clock, and she slipped down to the pool area, relishing the alone time.

Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Stephanie and Trey, and she had slept quite poorly, now feeling disconnected and a little frazzled. Even though she was able to speak to Ryan every day, and they were able to connect emotionally, there was something vital lacking in their interchanges. I think it’s because we don’t spend our time talking about our days, she decided. I don’t really want to burden her with the details of what’s going on with my cousins. I mean, she can’t do anything about it, and it seems like such a waste to spend the little time we have available talking about problems that neither one of us can fix. Still…not knowing everything about her day and not sharing all of mine is so different from what we usually do that it is really making me feel unsettled.

She stepped into the warm water, her skin reacting with goose bumps as she did so. The day was going to be a warm one, but there was still a bit of chill in the air, and the 85-degree water felt soothing to her stressed body. Submerging herself fully, she shook her head to get the water out of her eyes and then began to loosen up. A few slow laps of each of her stokes had her feeling awake and energized, and she began to extend her body in the water, enjoying the tug and pull of her lats and traps as her back muscles powered her through the water.

Nearing the end of the pool, she decided to work a little on her racing turns, her technique having severely eroded since she no longer swam regularly. The first one was more than a little sloppy; while her flip was good, she hadn’t twisted her body properly to return to her lane, and she wound up a few feet away from the line she was carving in the water.

I bet this week is harder on her than it is on me, she reflected. She’s not only away from me, she’s separated from her whole support system, and my baby needs her family to keep her happy. I hope she’s gotten to know Jordan or some of the other women on the team better so she has someone to talk to down in Santa Cruz —although I haven’t seen much indication that Jordan is the sensitive chat kinda girl. Oh well, maybe Ryan can help her to learn how nice it is to be able to share your feelings openly. She’s the poster child for sharing, she thought, as a warm feeling settled in her stomach at the mere suggestion of being able to share all of her own thoughts with her partner very soon.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As she executed her 35^th racing turn, Jamie straightened her body to the fullest, cutting through the water as swiftly as possible. Her form had smoothed out, but she was not really concerned with it. Nor did she care about her time, which was actually quite good. Rather, she was trying to use Ryan’s technique of full immersion in a task to dispel her anxieties about her cousins

It took 22 strokes to reach the end of the pool, one strong racing turn and another 22 strokes to the other end, and soon the only thing on her mind was "stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe." It had taken many laps, but she slowly began to enter that state of flow that Ryan seemed to achieve so easily. Thoughts of Stephanie and Trey and Adam and Carolyn and Skip and Sara all drifted away as she sliced through the warm water, concentrating only on her breathing and the cadence of her strokes.

She began to feel lighter, both physically and emotionally, as she continued to lose herself in the experience, eventually becoming one with the water to achieve a kind of high that she had realized only a few times in her athletic endeavors.

By her 50^th lap she began to tire, and she slowed down a few laps later and turned onto her back to do a few lengths of a lazy backstroke.

When she climbed out of the water, her mother was sitting in a lounge chair, sipping a cup of coffee. Catherine gave her daughter a bemused grin as she padded over to her chair. "Are you going out for the swim team or the golf team?" she teased.

"Definitely golf," Jamie answered with a smile. "I hardly ever swim."

"Really? You look so sleek in the water, like you are a natural swimmer. I guess it’s a good thing I married your father," she reflected. "No one in my family has one iota of athletic talent. Our best sports seem to be drinking and doing drugs," she added with a healthy dose of self-derision.

Jamie patted her leg as she sat back completely in her chair. "Anyone can become an addict, Mom. You don’t have to be a Dunlop."

"No, but it helps," she said with a weary smile. "Are you warm enough, Honey? I can go to the cabana and get you a robe."

"No, I’m fine." Jamie was wrapped in a bath sheet, the chill of the morning air helping her cool down from her tiring swim. "I think I’ll go get some juice, though." Before the words were fully out of her mouth, one of the white-jacketed servants was standing next to her chair.

"Something for breakfast, Miss?"

"A glass of orange juice would be nice," she said, smiling at the young man.

He nodded, and left for the kitchen, and as Jamie watched him leave she asked, "How do they know to appear just when you need them?"

Catherine pointed to the edge of the cabana. "Closed circuit cameras, Honey. There is a monitor in the kitchen so they know when people are poolside."

Catherine was puzzled by the nearly scarlet blush that immediately covered her daughter’s face and neck. Trying to appear casual, Jamie ran her fingers through her wet hair, fluffing it a bit to help it dry.

Observing her carefully, Catherine asked, "Something on your mind, Dear?"

Okay, Jamie, you want to be honest and open with her. How open do you want to be? She thought for a second, finally deciding to reveal a little of the camera fiasco in Pebble Beach. "I uh…was just thinking about being down in Pebble Beach," she said slowly, trying to decide how much to censor. "We um…didn’t…rather, I didn’t remember that you had installed those security cameras, and we uh…"

"You were being affectionate?" Catherine suggested helpfully, a teasing smile settling on her face.

"Yeah…that’s it," Jamie said, relief flooding her features. "We were being affectionate, and I didn’t want you to find out about us that way."

"Wow," Catherine said, shaking her head as she smiled. "Thank you for that, Honey. That would have been tough for me."

"It’s the closest I’ve ever come to having a heart attack," Jamie laughed, recalling how absolutely panicked she had been at the time. "Luckily, Ryan’s brother knew all about this type of system, and he knew that you wouldn’t necessarily see the tapes."

Looking very empathetic, Catherine reached out and placed a hand on her daughter’s arm. "That must have been terrifying for you, Jamie. I’m glad that her brother could reassure you. Obviously, we didn’t review the tapes, so your private life will remain private."

Jamie nodded, deciding not to tell her of the lengths to which she and Ryan had gone not only to find the tapes, but then erase each of them. She didn’t think her mother would be angry, but she didn’t want to tell her how terrified she had been at the prospect of what she assumed would be a very poor reaction.

Catherine cocked her head at her daughter and carefully framed her question. "Was the beach a…special time for you, Jamie?"

Once again blushing to the roots of her hair, she admitted, "Yes. It was. The beach was where we made love for the first time."

Catherine nodded her head slowly, a dozen thoughts buffeting her mind. She was relieved that Jamie had technically been telling the truth when she'd visited the house in Berkeley in April to ask about Ryan, but at the same time, the news gave her pause. Something about the surreptitiousness of the trip niggled at her mind, even though she wouldn’t have dared speak her concern to her daughter. She decided to banish her worries and show Jamie her most generous side. "I don’t know why, but something about the way you talk about your trip made me think it was very special for you. I hope you will go back often, Honey. When I bought that house, I hoped that someday you and your family would enjoy it."

Jamie’s smile was so bright that every inch of her face lit up. "That’s very sweet, Mom. I would love to go back with Ryan. Maybe it could be a little anniversary tradition for us."

Catherine looked wistful as she commented, "Your father and I had room 215 at the Claremont Hotel. I find it charming that your room at the beach will always be special for you both."

Jamie blushed again and Catherine began to laugh heartily. "But I see I shouldn’t assume that your room was the special place," she teased.

"Let’s just say that the whole house will live on in our memory," she admitted through her crimson blush.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Over a bowl of cornflakes, Jordan looked across at Ryan with a twinkle in her eye and asked, "What did Jamie think about your new boyfriend?"

"I uh…didn’t get a chance to tell her," Ryan admitted, a little perturbed that her friend continually managed to focus on all of the things that she was already a little uncomfortable about.

"Hmm…imagine that," Jordan said dryly. "You…not revealing something to Jamie…who would have ever thought it!"

"Hey, uh, Jordan?" Ryan asked, looking up at her quizzically, "how many long term, committed relationships have you been in?"

"One less than you have, wise-ass. Does that mean I can’t express my opinion?" It was clear that she wasn’t angered by Ryan’s question, but equally clear that she thought her view was the correct one.

"No, of course you can, but I think that things look different to an outsider than they do to someone in the relationship. I plan on telling Jamie everything that has happened since she’s been gone, but I’m going to do it when I think the time is right, and not a minute before."

Shrugging her broad shoulders, Jordan gave her friend a smile and said, "Don’t come crying to me when she pops you one, pal. You’ve been warned."

"Time and again," Ryan agreed, rolling her eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The chill had definitely left the air by nine o’clock, and the Evans women spent a few minutes in the warming sun planning their day. "I think Uncle David is planning another sail for this afternoon. Would you like to join him?"

"I don’t think so," Jamie said, shaking her head. "I really like to sail, but I like a little excitement when I’m on the water. Sailing with Uncle David is like going on a Sunday drive in the country."

"Shopping?" Catherine asked, trying to find an activity that they could enjoy together.

"I guess we could," Jamie agreed, shrugging slightly.

"Not an overwhelming level of enthusiasm there, Jamie." Catherine’s lively brown eyes were twinkling, showing that she was teasing.

A sheepish grin settled on Jamie’s face as she admitted, "I am officially bored, Mom. Besides missing Ryan, I miss my routine. I miss making my own meals and going for a run in the morning." She looked up helplessly and said, "It doesn’t sound all that interesting, but it means a lot to me." She paused a moment, rolling her eyes at herself, then added, "Well, maybe it is mostly that I miss her. I could run here, and the cooks would probably welcome my help as long as Aunt Patsy didn’t catch me. The little things are just so much more fun when Ryan does them with me."

"That makes perfect sense Jamie," Catherine said, "but I think you’d probably be somewhat bored even if she was with you. I don’t think this lifestyle has ever appealed to you."

"No, no it hasn’t," she agreed. "It’s not just that we don’t do many things here, Mom, it’s that everything is so…so topical. I don’t feel like I know these people any better than I did when I got here, and that just seems like a wasted opportunity."

Catherine nodded slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she said, "It’s funny, but I’ve never noticed that before. I suppose that we are a little distant from one another…"

"It’s not that bad, Mom, and I know it’s not all that different from the way most families are. But I’m used to talking about everything with Ryan’s family—and I really miss that openness. When you don’t have that, spending one day with any family is really long enough. That’s plenty of time to see everyone and hear what’s new with them."

"I suppose you’re right," Catherine mused, a troubled frown on her face. "I’ve had a perfectly marvelous time with you, Honey, but I’m going to be lost once you leave."

"Maybe you can try to get some of your relatives to interact with you a little more. You could change the pattern."

Catherine’s gentle laugh caused her narrow shoulders to rock slightly. "I think I have my hands full just trying to figure out how to be more open with you, Dear. I’ll need a lot more experience to take on this group."

"Well, keep an open mind, Mom. You never know when an opportunity will present itself. It sure sounds like Sara might need someone to open up to. I can’t imagine that Trey’s problems aren’t getting to her."

Catherine nodded, looking very pensive. The comfortable silence stretched on for several minutes as she considered how her cousin and his wife were dealing with their son. "Have you ever taken drugs, Jamie?" she asked slowly.

Hmm…truth or evasion… Deciding on truth, Jamie cocked her head and made a proposal. "I’ll tell if you will."

"Sneaky, Dear. Very sneaky." Sighing heavily, Catherine shrugged and nodded her acceptance of the terms. "I’ll tell, but I think there should be some sort of statute of limitations here."

"Okay," Jamie agreed slyly. "You only have to go back to when you were sixteen," recalling that her mother had denied drug use at that point in her life.

"I still don’t know why you aren’t applying to law school," Catherine smirked. "You obviously have a gift!"

"Stick to the facts, Mom."

"I asked you first, Dear. After you."

"No, you go first," Jamie insisted, "then I’ll know how honest to be."

Smiling fondly at her child, Catherine agreed. "All right, Dear. I smoked grass in college, but I stopped when I was pregnant with you, and never did it again. It just didn’t seem like the kind of thing a mother should do, do you know what I mean?"

Jamie nodded, and asked the obvious follow up question. "Does that mean that you and Daddy both did it?"

"I don’t really feel comfortable talking about his habits, Dear. I think you should ask him if you want to know that."

"Okay," Jamie said, appreciating that her mother kept her father’s confidences. "Guess it’s my turn, huh?"

"The ball’s in your court," Catherine agreed.

"Okay." Jamie took a breath and said, "I’ve smoked grass."

"Is that all?" Catherine asked, chuckling softly. "By the look on your face, I was afraid that you’d been smoking crack!"

"No, nothing more than grass." Looking a little embarrassed she added, "I’ve never told Ryan, and I don’t think she’d approve."

"Ahh, so you and Ryan don’t smoke together," Catherine said.

"Lord no! Ignoring the fact that she doesn’t like to be out of control, she would never intentionally inhale smoke—no matter what type! She’s very, very protective of her body." She chuckled a little and added, "Well, that’s only partially true. I’m sure she’d do just about anything for a rush, no matter how dangerous it was, but she’d never risk damage to her lungs."

"Have you done it many times?" Catherine asked.

"No, not really. I smoked a couple of times in high school," she admitted. "Remember Scott Hastings?" At her mother’s nod, she continued. "When we were going out, he was always getting high. Since I was just a sophomore and he was a senior, I think I wanted to impress him a little with my worldliness," she laughed. "I wouldn’t sleep with him, which I’m sure was his first choice, so I smoked pot with him a few times at parties, just so I didn’t seem like a total dweeb."

"What about in college? I’d think Mia would enjoy getting high."

Jamie laughed at her mother’s accurate perception. "Yeah, she’s open to most experiences. She and I have gotten high a few times…not very often though. Jack would not have been happy if he knew, so I never did it when he was around. I seem to pick people who are quite abstemious," she laughed.

"That’s not a bad trait, Jamie," Catherine said softly. "You’ve seen what drug use can do to a person." Jamie nodded, and they spent a few minutes musing about the topic. "Are you afraid to tell Ryan that you’ve smoked grass, Honey?"

"No, not afraid, per se," she decided. "But I hate to have her think less of me."

Catherine gave her a grin and teased, "Doesn’t she have any faults? You’ve never told me one thing about her that wasn’t a glowing compliment."

"Hmm, let’s see," she mused, pursing her lips in thought. "I know this sounds crazy, but she hasn’t shown me any yet. I mean, I might find out that she’s really a psycho, but she’s kept it very well hidden." Her hearty laugh showed that the chances of finding that out were very, very slim in Jamie’s opinion.

"Nobody’s perfect, Jamie," Catherine warned. "There have to be things that will come up that hurt or disappoint you."

"Oh, don’t get me wrong, Mother, we have issues, but so far her only hot button has been my desire to spend money on her!" she laughed. "We had kind of a big fight at the beach because I bought her a $350 leather jacket. She really got angry about that. But we worked it out after a long talk."

"I’d be miffed if you spent $350 on a leather jacket for me too, Dear," she chided. "Surely you could have bought her something nice."

Jamie tossed her head back and laughed for a full minute. "She wasn’t mad because it was cheap, Mom. She was angry because it cost too much!"

"Where on earth can you get a decent leather jacket for $350!"

"It was used, Mom. We bought it at a second hand store in Carmel."

Pursing her lips, Catherine shook her head slightly. "That’s one affectation of youth that I never understood. Wearing someone else’s clothes seems…I don’t even know the word, but the attraction eludes me."

"I like wearing Ryan’s clothes, but I see your point," she agreed. "It doesn’t bother me, but I can see that it wouldn’t be for everyone. I think Ryan just likes it because they’re a good bargain. She hates to pay a dime more for things than she absolutely has to."

"Then you had better hide the receipts for your new clothes! Goodness Jamie, the lingerie you bought her cost nearly as much as that used jacket!"

"Maybe I should leave everything in Hillsborough and bring things back to Berkeley one at a time," she laughed. "I’m sure that we spent more this week than her entire wardrobe cost."

"We’re just going to have to work on her, Jamie," Catherine said conspiratorially. "She would look so fabulous in Armani…Once she had some nice things, she’d never go back to second-hand stores."

Jamie laughed at her mother’s confidence, shaking her head slightly. "Don’t underestimate her, Mom. She’s not easily influenced. The chances are just as good that I’ll be shopping at Goodwill!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

Morning practice was so exhausting that Ryan and Jordan decided to head back to the dorm as soon as their mid-morning meal was finished. To their dismay, they had both been working so hard that they had a hard time relaxing enough to sleep.

"You awake?" Jordan’s gentle soprano called out.

"Yeah. My heart rate’s been up for so long that I’m having a tough time slowing it down. Do you think Coach is actually trying to kill us?"

"That would seem to be counterproductive," Jordan replied lazily, "but all signs point in that direction."

"I’ve had a lot of coaches, but Coach Placer drives us harder than anyone I’ve ever played for. Is he like this during the year?"

"No, not at all, as a matter of fact. He just tries to set the tone during training camp. He figures that if we get used to working really hard now, we’ll keep it up during the year. I think he’s right, but it’s a tough week to get through."

"Thank God Jamie’s not here," Ryan said. "If she saw how many times he made us sprint the length of the gym, she’d pop him one!"

"Yeah, but we should be in better shape than a lot of the teams we play. Stamina is really important for us because we got taken to five games quite often last year. If we can hold it together in long matches, it will really improve our chances."

"Yeah…makes sense." Ryan rolled onto her side and thumped her pillow a few times, trying to make the thin foam into something that would help relax her. "I’ve got to get to sleep," she muttered. "I’m so tired I’m slap happy! Thank God this is over tomorrow. I can get a good night’s sleep in my own bed before my girl gets home."

"What’s the deal with your living situation, anyway?" Jordan asked through a yawn. "Do you stay with your parents sometimes?"

"Yeah. We live with my family in San Francisco on the weekends, then we have Jamie’s house in Berkeley to ourselves during the week. It’s kinda nice."

Jordan rolled onto her stomach and propped her head up with her hands. She eyed Ryan curiously. "Do you have to do that, or do you want to?"

"Uhh…why would I have to? I’m not under house arrest or anything." She laughed softly and said, "I love my family, and I miss them when I’m gone too long. Is that so strange?"

"Uhh…yeah, it is to me," Jordan said, her face very serious. "I’m already trying to come up with a good excuse to avoid going home for Christmas, and it’s only August."

Looking closely at the other woman, Ryan said, "I guess I understand why you didn’t attend UCLA."

"Yeah," Jordan laughed. "They wanted me pretty badly, but I had to get away. I’m still pissed that Stanford didn’t recruit me, though. Just my luck that they only had a couple of scholarships to give out for my class and the other contenders were local. I think the coaching staff felt more comfortable going with people they'd scouted more often. Damn! We would’ve been something," she mused idly, visions of a national championship dancing in her head.

"That would have been something," Ryan agreed. "They recruited me, too. If we’d both gone there, we could’ve cleaned up!"

"Oh well, I guess we just have to make Cal into a powerhouse," she decided. "Do you have any younger sisters to carry on our legacy?"

"Nope. Three older brothers. I’m the closest thing to a girl in the family. What about you? I know you have a brother. Anybody else?"

"Uh-uh. Just two kids. Well, I guess you could count my father in that number, but technically, he’s an adult."

"What’s he do?" Ryan asked lazily.

"He’s in development at Paramount," Jordan replied. "You know what that is?"

"Nope. Not a clue."

"Hick," she chuckled, getting great pleasure out of teasing Ryan for her naiveté about Hollywood. "He works with writers and directors, trying to get ideas translated into movies. He spends most of his time going out to lunch and dinner, near as I can tell, but then again, I don’t see him very often."

"Are your parents divorced?" Ryan asked, surprised that she knew so little about her new friend’s family.

"Yeah. My dad moved out when I was seven, but they went back and forth for two years before they finally decided to get divorced."

"Wow, that must’ve been tough," Ryan sympathized.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I thought he’d come back home at some point. You know how kids are. They believe in fairy tales."

"You must have been awfully broken up when they finally decided to call it quits," Ryan said softly, seeing the pain in her friend’s eyes.

"Changed my world," she murmured. "Oct. 1, 1987."

"Damn, you either have a fantastic memory, or that was a very traumatic event."

"Both," she sighed, turning over onto her other side, signaling the end of the conversation.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"As much as I dislike limos, it’s kinda nice to have someone drive us to New York," Jamie mused as they sped along Interstate 95 "I’d hate to have to manage midtown traffic in this big car."

"So would I," Catherine agreed. "New York is best explored in taxis and limos. I give credit to anyone who can drive a car here and keep their sanity."

"So what would you like to do first?" Jamie asked.

"I need some new perfume. Do you mind spending some time helping me choose some?"

"Not at all. I’ve become quite interested in my olfactory perceptions since I’ve been with Ryan. She has the most extraordinary sense of smell. If she wanted to, she could get a job at one of the perfume companies creating new fragrances. She can honestly differentiate between all of the elements of a scent--and name them. It’s really remarkable."

"Then I think we should devise a scent for you and put her to the test," Catherine declared.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"A little more Asian pepper, I think," Catherine decided as she sniffed delicately at the cotton swab that held the latest mixture her scent designer had just created.

They were seated comfortably in a small, well lit room at the Creed Boutique, and Jamie was getting a demonstration of the art of perfume design. The elegant shop specialized in creating personalized scents for their clients, and at $500 an ounce for the customized fragrances, the demonstration was far from inexpensive. Catherine had been having her perfume custom made for years, but Jamie had never had much interest in taking the time to do so. However, at her mother’s urging, she was also participating. The designer had created Jamie's first, and she had dabbed a small amount on one wrist and was now letting it settle and blend with her natural scent. The designer had instructed that the fragrance would change and mellow as it was warmed by her body, and as she took another sniff she had to agree.

She had chosen a light, sporty, citrusy scent composed mostly of Indian lime, clementine, and kumquat, thinking that style of perfume best suited her lifestyle. Catherine, on the other hand, was looking for something sexy and romantic, and Jamie hoped that bespoke the vitality of her parent’s intimate life.

The perfume they were now sampling was heavy with spice and had a decidedly woody flavor. Jamie considered the ingredients and smiled when she realized that her mother had a few key elements of a good pumpkin pie going on. The scent incorporated cardamom, Asian pepper, amber, nutmeg, coriander, cinnamon, honey, geranium, and cedarwood, and even though it should have smelled like something from the baker’s rack, it most certainly did not. On Catherine, it smelled decidedly sexy, and Jamie wished she could buy one like it for Ryan. But the purpose of the customization was to match the combination of scents to the particular body they would adorn, and she didn’t want to make a mistake at these prices.

Once she was satisfied with her choice, Catherine paid for both creations, insisting that Jamie should spend her own money on buying something nice for Ryan. Their car was waiting for them, as expected, and as they entered, Catherine asked, "Where to now, Dear?"

"I wish I could buy some perfume for Ryan, since she loves scent so much, but I’m not sure what she’d like."

"What does she wear now?" Catherine asked.

"Usually Coast soap and baby-powder scented deodorant," Jamie laughed. "I don’t think she owns any perfume."

Leaning forward to address the chauffeur, Catherine instructed, "Rockefeller Center, Richard, and hurry!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Coach, I don’t know whose idea this was, but I’d like to kiss whoever came up with it." Ryan was smiling broadly at Coach Placer, pleased beyond measure that the staff had decided to hold afternoon practice in the Olympic-sized pool. The workout they were subjected to was actually more strenuous than the ones in the gym, but the buoyancy of the water made it seem significantly easier.

"I thought I’d take pity on you guys for a change," he smiled. "I want you to work on your spiking technique, but I don’t want you to take that much pounding on your legs."

"You’re getting my vote for humanitarian of the year," Ryan called out as she executed a shallow racing dive into the pool.

The team spent the next hour jumping as high as they could to spike the ball over the low net that the staff had strung across the pool. The team had split up for this exercise, with the shorter players—who couldn’t possibly get up high enough to spike over even this low net--moving to the indoor fitness pool, which had a shallower end. That left the outside hitters and the middle blockers, all of whom were at least 5’10". Their competitive urges quickly came to the fore, and they spent a solid hour banging the ball into the water, while the ball girls struggled valiantly to retrieve their efforts from the five-foot depth.

By the time they were finished, every muscle in Ryan’s body ached, and it was all that she could do to drag herself to the nearby spa to collapse for a good long soak. The trainers scheduled everyone for a deep tissue massage, but Ryan chose to go last, in order to stay in the spa as long as possible. She sat in the hot, bubbly water with Jordan, Heather, Grace, and Ashley, none of them having enough energy to even converse. As he was preparing to leave the pool deck, Coach Placer called out, "Who’s up for a farewell dinner downtown tonight?"

Not a single hand went up, and he shared a conspiratorial smile with Ken Nakajima, one of the assistant coaches. "That’s one way to stay within my budget. Get them so tired that they don’t have the energy to go out and spend money!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

"How did you know there was a Sephora store in Rockefeller Center?" Jamie asked as they entered the brightly lit space.

"I’m truly a psychic when it comes to shopping, Jamie," she smiled. "I know by instinct where every potentially appealing store is in the entire city."

"Sounds like Ryan. Only her ability is limited to finding sporting goods stores. I swear she can smell the leather from the baseball gloves or something!"

"I’d really like to spend some quality time with her," Catherine said. "You two will have to come to the house for a long weekend."

"We’d love to, Mom, but I think it’s going to be a while before Daddy shares your opinion on that."

Recalling the last conversation she had with her husband, Catherine had to agree. "That will change, Dear. We just have to give him a little time. Now, what type of fragrance would you like for Ryan?"

They were approached by a tall, thin woman in a black lab coat who asked, "May I help you find a fragrance today?"

"Yes," Jamie said. "I want something for a woman who is very…earthy," she decided, thinking that single word best described her partner.

It took quite a while, and they had sampled over 20 fragrances before Jamie came upon the one she wanted. "This is it," she said decisively, holding up a bottle of Eau de Guerlain.

"This is technically, a man’s fragrance," the salesclerk said, "but it can easily be worn by a woman."

Catherine picked up the card that listed the ingredients and read them aloud. "Citrus, thyme, Bergamot, mint, tarragon, neroli. Reminiscent of the aroma of fresh cut hay." Sniffing delicately, she declared, "It’s nice. Clean and decidedly earthy."

"That’s my girl," Jamie agreed brightly, handing the bottle to the clerk to ring it up.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Ryan! Jordan! Get out of there this minute!" Coach Placer stood on the side of the pool, yelling at his two seniors, both of whom were submerged at the bottom of the pool.

Ryan’s hand broke the surface, holding up one finger in a plea for just another minute. "If one of you bursts a blood vessel I’ll kick your butts all the way back to Berkeley!" he yelled, to the amusement of the rest of the team. All twelve of their teammates stood on the deck, anxiously watching the women, while Grace held the stopwatch. The competition had started out innocently enough, but when the hyper-competitive seniors were involved, things quickly got out of hand.

Jordan knew she was about to surface, so in a last ditch effort she leaned forward and pushed hard on her friend’s stomach, causing most of the air to leave Ryan’s lungs. Not to be outdone, with the last of her reserves Ryan wrapped her arm around Jordan’s neck as she tried to swim away. Once she had her secured, she clamped her arms around her waist and squeezed as hard as she could, making the blonde flail about wildly as her air was forcibly expelled. They surfaced together, arms and legs thrashing about as they tried desperately not to drown. Both women were coughing and spitting water, much to the delight of their teammates. Their coach, however, failed to see the humor in the situation. "Out of the pool, you two! You’re going to kill each other with these ridiculous games!"

"Sorry, Coach," Jordan gasped, struggling to the side of the pool. "Ryan just can’t stand to lose!"

"Me?" Ryan cried.

"Enough!" the coach warned. "Tell that to someone who hasn’t seen you play for three years," he muttered to Jordan, rolling his eyes at the purple-faced young women. "I honestly don’t know which one of you is worse."

"She is," they both charged, pointing their fingers at each other.

* * * * * * * * * * *