I Found My Heart In San Francisco

Book 14

Nurture

By SX Meagher

Part Eleven

Ryan walked into the house on Thursday night, animatedly talking on her cell phone. "Tell the fellas we’d be there if we could," she said. "Make sure you tell ‘em that, okay?" She nodded. "Just don’t forget. Love you, too. Bye."

She clicked the phone off and walked over to Jamie, giving her a quick welcome-home kiss.

"Who was on the phone?"

"I was," Ryan said, giving her partner one of her "I’ll pull that trick on you for the rest of our lives" smiles.

Jamie swatted her on the seat. "Who were you speaking to, Ryan?"

"My brother. Rory," she clarified when Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Niall’s moving this weekend. I’m really bummed that we can’t help."

Jamie paused, trying to determine if Ryan was kidding. She’d never helped anyone move, and she didn’t feel that her life was made poorer by that fact. But Ryan looked entirely sincere. "Does he really need help?"

"Nah. All of the cousins will be there. But I hate to miss anything like that. You know what Da always says."

"No, I don’t."

"He says your friends help you move. Your real friends help you move a body."

She had a perfectly straight face on, but Jamie could see the merriment in her eyes. "Does he really say that?"

"Nah. I heard it somewhere. I just thought it was funny."

"You’re in a good mood," Jamie said. "Feeling good?"

Ryan took a banana from the bowl Jamie was always careful to keep filled with seasonal fruit. "Yeah, I suppose. What’s for dinner?"

"Nothing special. Just fruit and cheese. I got home late."

"So … this is an appetizer?" Ryan wiggled her banana.

"It fits with the menu." Jamie patted her side and started to gather the things she needed for dinner. Ryan jumped up to sit on the counter, as she always did when she was home in time to watch the preparations.

"Why were you late?" she asked, peeling her banana.

"I ran into Hannan. The woman Mia hired to impersonate her."

Ryan laughed. "I think about her every once in a while. I was wondering if she was getting away with it."

"Hannan says everything’s fine. She claims the prof has been complimenting her on her class participation."

Ryan’s eyes popped open. "She’s participating?"

"Yeah." Jamie giggled. "She says she’s gotten into it. She’d like to take the class, but she knows the guy will recognize her."

"Maybe she can wear a disguise." Ryan shook her head. "That’s a damned odd situation."

"Not for Mia. She’s always spent more time figuring out how to get out of work than doing the work would ever take her."

"Hmm … I see politics in her future."

Jamie looked at her partner for a second. "The most cursory background check would prevent her from running for sewer commissioner."

"Riiiiight."

* * * * * *

After dinner, Ryan and Jamie went upstairs to work on their stock portfolio. The game had progressed to a point where they’d merged their assets, deciding that they’d get just as much enjoyment out of beating the market as each other. Their combined assets totaled $1.6 million.

As she watched Ryan’s eyes light up when the totals flicked across the screen, Jamie decided that observing the joy Ryan derived from playing the game was one of the most enjoyable parts of her week. She knew that Ryan would never get the same satisfaction from real money, but playing with funny money as she called it allowed her to enjoy herself immensely.

"So, when do we get those shares of Palm from that spin-off of 3Com?" Jamie asked.

"Didn’t I tell you what those rats did?" Ryan asked, her pique obvious.

"No, what?"

"They decided to distribute the shares six to nine months after the spin off. They won’t be worth the paper they’re printed on."

"Really? But people are jazzed about Palm."

"I know, but an IPO rarely lives up to its hype." She looked up at Jamie thoughtfully. "I think we should sell our whole 3Com holding. I think it’s a bad sign that they’re making us wait so long for the spin-off shares, and it really concerns me that they still won’t say what the distribution’s going to be. I don’t trust a company that plays cat and mouse like that. Plus, I keep thinking about what my father said. He doesn’t know anything about the stock market, but he has a firmer grasp on reality than most people who play the market."

"Okay, I see your point." Ryan made the entry, and when she was done, Jamie looked at her and said, "Hey, wanna have some fun?"

"Sure."

"If you feel strongly about Palm being over-hyped, let’s sell it short."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "I’ve never sold short before. How do we do it?"

"Well, if you’re sure the stock will fall, you place an order to sell as many shares as you want at the current market price. But since you don’t necessarily own them, your broker has to sell them out of his own inventory, or go out and buy them so he can sell them. You have to put up 150% of the current value of the shares, either in cash or stock, then when the price reaches the point you want, you buy the shares and make good on the sale."

Ryan shook her head and said, "What’s in it for the broker?"

"He gets 150% of the value, and after he buys the shares, that 50% is his to play with and earn interest on. If you keep the transaction open for a while, that can really add up."

"This is pretty risky, isn’t it?"

"Oh, yeah. If the stock goes up, there’s no limit to the amount of money you can lose. You’ve gotta have big cojones to sell short, amiga."

"Let’s do it!" Ryan said gleefully. "Let’s go big, baby. It’s a mortal lock that Palm’s gonna go up like a bottle rocket and then crash just as fast."

"I’m in. We just have to wait until the day the IPO is issued."

"That’s next Thursday. Can you come home for lunch that day? We can see how it does and decide when to sell."

"It’s a date."

"Oh, shit! I’ve gotta go to Sacramento next Thursday. We don’t leave until 3:00. Will we have time to do this if I’m home by 1:00?"

"Sure. It’ll just take a minute. It’s not like we have to call a real broker, honey. We just have to take a quick look at the stock price, and make an entry on our books."

"Cool. We’ll be rich, rich, I tell you!"

"We’re already rich," Jamie teased.

"Yes, but now we’ll be rich with imaginary money that we really earned. That’s cool."

* * * * * *

Ryan barreled into the house on Friday morning and took the stairs two at a time. Her bedroom door was open, and she motored in just as Jamie was coming out. They grazed each other, just missing butting heads. "Jesus! A little warning would be nice!"

Jamie clutched at her chest, fearing her heart would stop. "The house was empty two seconds ago. If anyone should warn anyone—it’s you! Damn, my heart’s still racing."

"I’m late," Ryan grumbled. She went to her closet and pulled out her Cal duffle bag, then started to add some clothes.

Jamie watched her put in some cotton slacks and tailored shirts, a few T-shirts, a pair of jeans and all of the long compression shorts she owned. "What do you need those for?"

"Don’t have any underwear," Ryan said, not looking up. "Got my last pair on."

"You have a full supply. I did your laundry when I got home from golf practice."

Ryan looked up and blinked. "You did? You’ve never done my stuff."

"That’s because Maria Los does my laundry. I don’t usually pay much attention. But yesterday she asked me if she could do yours, since it had filled the entire hamper." She smiled. "We were both a little amazed at how many pairs you have. I think she thought we’d taken in boarders."

Ryan looked a little embarrassed. "I’ve got about six pairs of really good undies. Then I start going down the ladder until I get to the ones that I wouldn’t use as rags. I’ve never run out before. I didn’t think it was possible." She started to unbutton her jeans, then shimmied out of them. "Now that I have good ones, I’m gonna put on another pair."

Jamie looked at the pale pink panties that looked like they were once white but had been washed with something red. The elastic was exposed on one leg, and when Ryan took them off, the skin on her thigh looked irritated. "Honey, I know it’s hard for you to find time to do your laundry. Why didn’t you ask me to help?"

Ryan shook her head. "It’s my responsibility. I just have to schedule my time better."

Walking over to her, Jamie put her hands on her partner’s shoulders, steadying her while she put clean underwear on. "I’m going to start doing it for you. I’m home more than you are."

"But you don’t like doing laundry. You don’t even do your own."

Jamie shrugged. "So? I have the time, you have the need."

Ryan made a face, looking like she was going to spit. Then she sighed and said, "Okay. But I’m gonna figure out a way to make the time to do it myself."

Jamie started to argue, then realized it wasn’t worth the time. "Fine. Whatever."

"I’m sorry," Ryan said, seeing that her partner was frustrated with her. "I just feel weird having someone else wash my underwear."

Jamie looked at her, trying to figure out why Ryan relished having her mouth on every part of her that the underwear covered but was uncomfortable having her wash it. She quickly realized this was a quirk she wasn’t going to able to understand. She nodded and put her hand on Ryan’s waist. "I threw away every pair that had holes or where the elastic was exposed. I can’t have my girl looking like she dumpster-dives for her undies."

A smile slowly bloomed and Ryan grasped Jamie and hugged her. "Thanks for doing my laundry. Thanks for caring about me. And thanks for putting up with me. I know I can be a pain."

Jamie patted her butt, and Ryan released her. "We all have our things, honey. One of yours is laundry."

Nodding, Ryan grabbed her bag and kissed Jamie quickly. "Gotta go. See you at your mom’s tonight."

"Okay, Sparky. Play well."

When she heard the door shut, Jamie called her mother. "Hi," she said when Catherine answered. "Wanna meet me at the Stanford Shopping Center before the game? Ryan’s in dire need of new underwear."

* * * * * *

Late on Saturday afternoon, Ryan sat on the bed in Jamie’s room in Hillsborough, watching her lover pack a bag for her trip. "I forgot to ask if your mom’s going to fly down to watch you play," Ryan said.

"No, I didn’t ask her to. I know she’d come any time I asked, but it can’t be fun for her. She’s just being nice."

Ryan nodded. "Maybe. But if you’d like her to come you should ask her."

"I think I’ll wait for her to offer," Jamie said. "Then I’ll know she really wants to."

"I really want to," Ryan said. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and her hands held Jamie’s suitcase like she didn’t want to release it.

Jamie saw the look in her eyes. She sat down and slipped an arm around her lover, feeling knots of tension in her back muscles. "How are you feeling?"

"I’m all right," Ryan said in her standard response. "It’s only a couple of days."

"I know that." Jamie’s voice was soft and calm. "But I don’t feel very good about going, and I thought you might feel the same."

Ryan nodded. "You know I don’t like it, but that’s life." She laughed very artificially and said, "A series of calamities and disappointments, occasionally interrupted by a moment of joy."

Seeing that she wasn’t going to crack her lover’s carefully created shell, the blonde got up and finished getting ready. "Mom said she’d drive you home after the game tomorrow."

"I can take the bus," Ryan said. "She doesn’t need to go out of her way."

"She likes being with you, Ryan. And if you’ll let her drive you, she might stay for dinner. She really hates eating alone every night."

"She does?" Ryan’s eyes grew wide. "Why doesn’t she come to our house? She never has to be lonely."

Jamie walked over to her and kissed her, trying to show the depths of her love through her touch. "You’re such a find," she whispered. "How did I ever get so lucky?"

Looking a little shy with her lopsided grin, Ryan shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno. Must be fate."

Jamie kept her arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. "I’ll call you tonight when I get to Temecula, okay?"

"Okay." Ryan got up, and they held each other for a few moments, then walked downstairs together. After Jamie said goodbye to her mother, Ryan walked her out to the circular drive. She put Jamie’s bag onto the passenger seat of the Boxster, then opened her arms to hold her lover for a long hug. "I’ll miss you, sweetheart. Play well."

"Do my best." Jamie kissed her and got into the car. As she drove away she caught one last glance of her partner, standing alone in the driveway, her hands in her pockets, staring after the departing car.

* * * * * *

Catherine and Ryan ate in the kitchen, and the pair finally convinced Marta to sit and eat with them. That was a rare accomplishment, and it was clear that Marta didn’t feel entirely comfortable. Even though she and Catherine were much more than employer/employee, there was always a line she was careful not to cross—for her sake as well as Catherine’s. No matter how fond she was of the younger woman, Catherine was and would always be the one in charge, and that, for Marta, precluded a more casual relationship. Besides, Helena, the housekeeper, didn’t have a personal relationship with Catherine, and Marta didn’t want to make the other woman jealous.

As soon as the cook had finished her last bite, she got up and started to clean the kitchen, politely, but firmly refusing help from Ryan.

Catherine could see that her daughter-in-law was fidgeting. She knew it went against Ryan’s grain to have someone waiting on her, so she suggested they go into the living room for a while.

Catherine turned on some music, and Ryan sat on one of the sofas, taking up much of the space, as was her wont. Catherine recalled how the young woman had behaved the first time she’d visited the house, how she’d tried to blend in with the rather stiff Evans’ style. It made her happy that Ryan was now comfortable enough to kick off her shoes and lounge on the sofa, something Catherine had seen her do at home. "You seem a little on edge tonight, honey. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan said. "Just a little … unsettled. I think I’ll feel better when Jamie calls. I … like to … I … uhm …"

"It’s hard for you, isn’t it?" Catherine asked gently. "To have her gone."

"Yeah. It is."

She didn’t say another word, but Catherine could tell she was anxious. "Do you worry about her?"

Ryan nodded, quicker this time, looking like she might cry.

"Since the car-jacking?"

"Uh-huh." The young woman made a fist and rubbed her mouth with it, her lips reddening from the friction. Catherine guessed she was trying to distract herself from crying, and she respected Ryan’s need to save face.

"That makes perfect sense," she said. "I still have nightmares about it, and I wasn’t even there. I have a low-level discomfort … I guess it’s anxiety … that hasn’t really left since that night."

"You do?" Ryan got up and went to sit next to her mother-in-law. "How can I help?"

Catherine smiled and put her hand on the younger woman’s leg. "You’re such a giver," she said. "I’m so glad you and Jamie found each other."

"Me, too," Ryan said quickly. "Now, how can we make you feel less anxious?"

"Oh … part of it is my trying to limit my drinking," Catherine said. "I was swallowing an awful lot of anti-anxiety medicine on a daily basis. It’s going to take me a long time to get a baseline on what my real feelings are. I was thinking of asking my psychiatrist for some medication, but I don’t want to do that yet. I want to see if I can ride this out and calm myself down."

"You do talk about this with your therapist, don’t you?" Ryan asked. "I know it’s hard to ask for help, but you’ve gotta do it."

"It is hard," Catherine said. "Is it hard for you?"

Ryan nodded again, her lower lip quivering.

"How about a hug?" Catherine asked.

Ryan looked at her and realized Catherine was asking for, not offering one. She put her arms around her mother-in-law and held her for a few moments, then started to let go. But Catherine reached up and held Ryan’s arm around her shoulders, burrowing up against her. Ryan immediately returned the warmth, and they spent a long time sitting quietly, reflecting on how their worlds had changed in the last months—for better and for worse.

* * * * * *

On Monday morning, Catherine drove down Castro Street in San Francisco, pleased to find that the parking situation was not very bad on a weekday. She was dressed casually, since she assumed that she’d be walking a lot, wearing tattersall plaid slacks in tan and brown, and a brown suede blazer covering a simple, cream-colored cashmere shell. Brown tassel loafers deducted two inches from her usual height. She’d always liked the extra height she got from heels, but she was trying to get comfortable wearing more casual clothing. Being around the O’Flahertys has really begun to rub off on me. She smiled to herself as she walked down the street. Some day soon, Ryan might have me in one of those warm-up suits she’s so fond of.

After she announced herself to the receptionist, Catherine waited for just a moment before Alex Joyce came out to greet her. "Mrs. Evans?"

"Catherine," she said firmly, extending her hand. "It’s good to meet you, Alex."

"Come on into my office," he said, leading the way. "I’ll show you what types of places are on the market now, and you can let me know if any of them suits your needs."

They sat next to each other and began to look through his listing book. "You said on the phone that you were looking for properties for your daughter?"

"Yes, my daughter and her partner."

"Does she have children, or is it just the two of them?"

"It’s just the two of them," Catherine said. "They’ve only been together since summer, but they do plan on having children. Knowing Ryan, her partner, they’ll have more than the two they’re talking about."

"Ahh … he’s in favor of big families," Alex said.

Catherine blinked at him, puzzled by his choice of pronouns. "Oh," she said after a moment, "I didn’t make myself clear. Ryan’s a woman."

"Oh!" he said, blinking in return. "Well, I must tell you how nice it is to see a mother who’s so supportive of her lesbian daughter."

Taking her turn, Catherine blinked again, and gave him a tentative smile. "You know, Alex, I don’t think I’ve ever used that term for her. I’m so comfortable around them that I don’t stop to think that they’re lesbians." She shook her head a little and laughed softly. "But I suppose that they are. The evidence is overwhelming."

The young man smiled back at her. "Any chance you could have a word with my parents? They seem to think that my being gay is the focus of my entire being. I only wish I lived the hedonistic lifestyle they imagine I’m embroiled in."

She patted his arm. "Give them time, Alex. They might come around."

"Maybe." He shrugged. "It’s their loss if they don’t." He manufactured a smile. "You mentioned that you’re only interested in Noe and Castro, is that right?"

"Yes. Ryan’s family lives in Noe, and she wants to stay within walking distance."

He looked thoughtful for a few minutes, then thumbed idly through his book. "There really isn’t anything on the market in those neighborhoods right now that I’d waste your time looking at. Why don’t we look at styles of homes, just so I can get a feel for what you think would please them?"

"That sounds fine, Alex. I think I have a pretty good idea of what the girls want." She smiled. "What they really want is a fairly modest house that can magically expand to accommodate fifty people for dinner."

He smiled back. "We have our work cut out for us then, don’t we?"

* * * * * *

"Catherine?" Alex said quietly. "Catherine?"

When he touched her shoulder, she started, turning to give him an embarrassed smile. "I’m sorry, I went off for a minute." Looking around the home they were viewing, she said, "This place isn’t right for Jamie and Ryan, but I certainly wish it were."

"It is special, isn’t it?" he asked. "I think it’s one of the nicest properties I’ve ever listed."

"Oh, this is your listing?"

"Yes. It’s only been on the market since last week, even though the owner has been agonizing over the decision for months." He laughed softly. "The owner is an art director in Hollywood, and he’s absolutely never home. I think he said he was here for a total of one week last year. He earns a lot of money, but it’s hard to have a place like this sitting idle, no matter how much you have."

As Catherine looked around again she said, "I would hazard a guess that he wants to renovate another place. People who do this kind of work are rarely satisfied to live in it once they’ve finished."

"You could be right. He’s owned the place for three years, and it was an absolute mess when he bought it. It’s only been finished for about nine months, and as soon as the last workman left, he was talking about selling."

"That’s not uncommon," she said. "I have … had friends who live to decorate." She folded her arms over her chest and walked around the rooms on the first floor once again. "I don’t know what it is about the place," Catherine mused quietly, "but something about it really resonates with me."

"Are you certain that your daughter couldn’t be persuaded to range a little past her comfort zone? Pacific Heights isn’t really that far from Noe."

"No," she said with regret. "This space wouldn’t suit them at all. It’s a good size, but it’s not set up like they’d want, and it’s so beautifully done that it would be a crime to knock down any of these walls." Catherine cocked her head and said, "Besides, it’s a little elegant for Ryan’s tastes. I think she’d feel intimidated here."

"You didn’t mention how old they are."

"Jamie just turned twenty-two, and Ryan’s twenty-four."

"Ahh … that is young for a space like this."

"Jamie’s used to living in luxury, but Ryan’s struggling to acclimate," she said. "She’d break out in hives when she saw the silk on the walls of the master bedroom. And I think there’s more marble in the master bath than Michelangelo ever laid his hands on."

"Where do you live? Here in the city?"

"No, I’ve lived in the Peninsula my whole life," she said. "I live not five miles from where I was born."

"Thank God I can’t say the same thing," he said. "I’d be in a corn field in Iowa."

"Are you happy in the city, Alex?"

"Oh, yes. I always say that everyone who loves cities should live in San Francisco at least once in his life. The opera, a world-class symphony orchestra, great museums, wonderful restaurants, and thousands of great-looking gay men—it’s nirvana," he said. "I felt like my life began the day I moved here."

Not quite sure why she was sharing her personal life with him, Catherine said, "I’m starting my life over, in a sense. I’m in the process of divorcing my husband."

"I’m sorry to hear that," Alex said sympathetically. "I … uhm, figured out who you were when you talked about your daughter and her partner by name. I didn’t know that you and Senator Evans were divorcing. That hasn’t made the news, has it?"

"Yes, but it wasn’t a very big story, thank God. We’ve kept it very quiet, and we’re not fighting, so it should blow over quickly."

Alex gave her a sad smile. "I broke up with my lover a few months ago, and it’s been hellish. I really understand how hard it can be."

"Yes, it is hard, but I have Jamie and Ryan, and they help a lot. Actually, I’m in the city more than I’m at home lately. My husband has an apartment on Telegraph Hill, and I should stay there more often just to avoid the drive." She shook her head. "It doesn’t suit me, though. I’d rather drive home than stay there."

He nodded. "I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have your lives held up for the whole world to see. I know it’s been very tough, but I must say that I’ve come to respect all of you for the classy way you’ve handled it."

She smiled and agreed. "Tough is not a strong enough word. Having my marriage break up, and then having my daughter and her partner almost killed has really taxed my resources, Alex. I feel like I’m just getting by. I seek solitude, but when I’m alone down in my big house, I feel so lonely." She shook her head. "Well, enough of my complaining. I suppose we should go."

"Would you like to see the second floor again?" he asked. "I know the house doesn’t suit your purposes, but if your daughter is going to remodel, the second floor balcony is one of the nicest I’ve seen. It might give you a few ideas."

"Yes, I would like to see that again, if you have time."

They went back upstairs and Alex opened the door, allowing Catherine to walk outside alone. The balcony, which was very generous in size, seemed like a veritable Garden of Eden, right on the crest of Pacific Heights.

Generously-sized concrete planters surrounded the space—each painted a matte black to make them stand out against the low, white wall. A lavish variety of roses filled them, spilling out a profusion of color and scent. A beautifully rendered wrought iron archway, also painted black, stood right outside the door, and it was covered with wisteria and clematis, just beginning to send off the shoots that would soon bloom. She sat down on an upholstered chair, covered in black with white piping, and gazed out upon the Bay, the wind ruffling her hair.

She noted that even though the breeze was stiff, she wasn’t cold, and realized that was because the space was well-protected from the wind on all sides. There was a six-foot-high glass wall surrounding the patio, the glass so clean that it was invisible. Looking up, she noted that the designer had also installed gas heaters every few feet, the appliances cleverly installed on black wrought iron posts.

A feeling of absolute peace settled over her, and she completely lost track of time. It wasn’t until she began to chill that she looked at her watch and realized in amazement that it was nearly five o’clock. "Alex," she called as she went back inside.

He came back into the room, his cell phone up to his ear, and held up a finger, indicating that he’d be off the phone in a minute. When he hung up, he chuckled at her shocked expression. "Did you enjoy your afternoon?"

"How long was I out there?"

"A couple of hours," he said. "But it wasn’t a problem. I’ve been busy the whole time. I’ve got my PC in my briefcase, and I was able to catch up on a lot of work that I can’t get done at the office."

"But … Alex," she said again, thoroughly embarrassed. "I’ve wasted your entire afternoon on a house that I won’t even bother to show Jamie."

"I promise you that I don’t mind a bit." He smiled broadly. "I don’t believe in rushing people, Catherine. If we’re going to work together, I want you to feel free to spend as much time as you need in a space. That’s the only way to know if a home is right for you."

She blinked at him, and heard her mouth form a statement that shocked her thoroughly as it registered. "Alex, this house isn’t what the girls are looking for, but it’s absolutely right for me. I’ve purchased three homes in my life, and I bought each one the first time I saw it. Let’s get the owner on the phone and make a deal."

* * * * * * * *

Late that afternoon, Jamie got in the courtesy van that the country club had arranged for them. Christie, Crystal, Samantha and Valerie were already in the van, and they had room for another player or two.

Scott Godfrey, the coach, walked up to the van, asking, "Who were you paired with, Jamie?"

"Jaclyn," she said. "She was still in the locker room when I left. Should we wait for her?"

"No. Go on back to the hotel. I’ll catch the stragglers in the last van."

"Okay." Scott closed the door, and the driver started the van. "How’d you guys do?" Jamie asked. "I didn’t see the results."

"Not bad," Christie said. "I won my pairing, but only by a stroke."

"I sucked," Crystal said. "If I don’t get my slice under control, I might as well drop out of school."

"Drop out?" Jamie asked. "Really?"

"Yeah," the young woman said. "I’m just here for golf. My game’s really suffered with all of the school work. I might quit and go on a mini-tour."

"But you’re getting a free education," Jamie said, wincing when she heard how much like an adult she sounded. The look Crystal gave her confirmed the fact that Crystal and she didn’t see things the same way.

"I could care less about a degree."

Couldn’t care less, Jamie said to herself. If you could care less, you would. She sank back into her seat, barely paying attention to the other women talking about their scores. All of a sudden, she didn’t care if they’d all shot their IQs.

* * * * * *

Softball practice was short on Monday night. Since they’d played two games each of the previous three days, Coach usually let them coast a little on Monday—especially if they’d played well on the weekend. It was raining, and rather than risk an injury on the wet field, Coach kept the team inside and talked about the weekend games. They’d played very well, but he didn’t want them to grow complacent, so he picked every nit he could find.

"O’Flaherty," he said, his voice gruff, "you didn’t take the safe option when you came in to pitch hit in the eighth inning of the first game on Saturday."

Ryan stared at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but finding it hard to believe he was chiding her.

"What’s your excuse?" he asked, his tone a little sharper.

She looked down at the tile floor, staring at the pattern of beige splotches on the dark rose background. It didn’t always work, but often she could stop herself from being snappish by spending a second or two focusing on patterns or counting something.

Coach didn’t give her a few moments. "I don’t have all day. What’s your excuse?"

For some reason, she felt humiliated, even though he’d already called out almost everyone in the room. Her chin jutted out and she said, "I drove in the lead run. The run held up and we won. I don’t need an excuse."

His eyes opened wide, and he really looked at her, seeing the fire in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was going to cuss him out or cry, and he didn’t want either to happen. He looked down at his clipboard as every other player coincidentally found someplace innocuous to direct her attention.

"Hernandez," he said, looking at a little-used player. "You didn’t take a turn picking up bats on Sunday. Don’t think I don’t notice little things like that."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"’S all right," he said. "I only bitch at ya because I care." He paused for a second and then laughed, breaking the tension in the room. "That’s bull. I bitch at everybody."

Everyone laughed except Ryan. The dark-haired woman stared straight ahead, her face impassive.

"Okay," Coach said. "See ya all tomorrow. And don’t be late."

In a flash, Ryan was gone.

Coach tried to catch her, but he didn’t want the others to see him chasing her down. Casually, he walked down the hall, then sprinted once he turned the corner. He caught sight of her opening the main door in the front of the building and called after her. "O’Flaherty, wait up!" He was sure she’d heard him, since she had ears like a bat, but she kept going, breaking into a jog and then a full-out run by the time he got to the door. "Women," he grumbled. "It’d be easier to coach a sack of cats!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

As soon as she arrived home, wet and breathless, Ryan started to tear off her clothing. She left it where it fell and was stark naked when she reached her room. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she was in a hurry to get there. She threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, then sat on the bed to put on some dry socks and shoes. The phone rang, and when the machine picked up she heard Coach Roberts’ voice.

"Hey, O’Flaherty, I don’t wanna make a big deal out of this, but I want you to know I wasn’t really pickin’ on you today. I was glad you didn’t sacrifice on Saturday. I wouldn’t have put you in to pinch hit if I’d wanted a sacrifice no matter what. I only asked the question ‘cause I knew you had a good reason for taking a poke at it. I wanted the younger girls to hear what goes through a good hitter’s head. That’s all … okay? No harm, no foul, right?" He was clearly uncomfortable, but he continued, "You can call me back if you’re pissed or something. Uhm … sorry," he mumbled, barely audible then hung up.

Ryan sat still for a few moments, feeling like she was on the verge of exploding, but not knowing why. She knew she was at loose ends because Jamie was gone, but this felt bigger than that. Nonetheless, she didn’t want to be in the house another moment. She shoved her feet into an untied pair of basketball shoes and grabbed her raincoat. When she got downstairs, she picked up her keys and dashed to her car, feeling better once she was inside. She put in a CD and started to drive, not having any destination in mind. The rain made traffic so ridiculously heavy that she didn’t even have to make a choice about which direction to go. She just went wherever she had the opportunity. She would have sworn she had no plan, but about half an hour later, she found herself in a gritty part of South San Francisco, near a place she hadn’t been for many years.

She slowed down and saw that the Jackson Arms Target Range was still there and open for business. Inside, she approached the young man at the counter. "What’ve you got that’ll put the biggest hole in the target?"

He placed a nine millimeter Ruger on the counter, the weapon that most women used to get out their frustrations at bosses, boyfriends and bullies. But when his eyes met hers, a black eyebrow had raised and her ice-cold eyes bore into him. Wordlessly, he turned and selected a Glock .45. Ryan picked up the pistol and wrapped her hand around the piece, then nodded at him. He handed her a box of ammo, and she said, "Gimme two." She produced her driver’s license and credit card then pointed at a shelf that held safety equipment for her eyes and hearing. "Those, too."

The clerk handed her the safety glasses and ear protectors and ran her card, leaving the total blank in case she wanted more ammunition. There was something about the woman that told him two boxes wouldn’t get rid of whatever it was that brought her out on such a night. "Third lane," he said.

Ryan went into the range and immediately put on the ear muffs and glasses. She realized she hadn’t taken off her coat, so she did that and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt.

She inspected the firearm methodically and made sure it was in good working order. Then she loaded it and felt the weight of it in her hand—almost three pounds. A small smile of approval creased her lips at the heft of the weapon. Reaching out, she stroked the cold steel, caressing the undulations in the metal with a fingertip. Feeling better than she had all day, she squared herself at the firing line, then extended her arm and clapped her right hand around the weapon and her left hand. Slowly, gently, she squeezed the trigger, the kickback soothing some place deep in her heart. Her lips parted, and her teeth shone in the poor industrial fluorescent glow, making her look like a fearsome animal about to take a large bite out of a small victim.

* * * * * *

The golf team ate in a small private room at the hotel. The room was set up with a steam table and a number of cold salads. I know I’m a food-snob, but wouldn’t it be easier to let us go to the regular restaurant and order from the menu? This stuff looks like it’s been sitting here for hours. She tried not to let her mood show, but she looked around and saw that each small table was filled with the usual cliques. Lauren, her roommate, sat alone, waiting for Jamie to join her.

Jamie took her tray and maneuvered through the room, then sat across from Lauren. "Hi," she said, trying to sound happy. "How’d you do today?"

The young woman was slowly coming out of her shell, and Jamie felt rather proud of herself for getting her to carry on a conversation. She knew that Lauren was ultra-shy, and if it were not for Jamie, she’d talk to no one.

The girl gave her a bright smile. "I did really well! You know how the landing area on the first hole was really narrow?"

"Uh-huh."

"I landed right in the middle! And my approach shot hit the edge of the green and rolled five feet from the hole. It’s like that started my day off right, and things just kept going."

"That’s great, Lauren. I’m really happy for you."

Lauren reached into her back pocket and took out her score card. "I made par on two. How about you?"

Dutifully, Jamie took out her score card, and she and Lauren replayed their matches—shot by shot.

* * * * * *

As soon as Catherine was finished with her tiring negotiations, she got on her cell phone and started to call Jamie at home, then remembered that her daughter was in Temecula. She let the phone ring anyway, hoping that Ryan was home. She didn’t want to tell either of them over the phone, since she wanted to see their faces when she told them. She guessed Jamie would be surprised, and she knew Ryan would be very happy that she’d seen the light about the grandeur that was San Francisco. No one answered, so she hung up, not wanting to leave a message. She considered what to do, not having any desire to go home to her empty house. It was almost nine o’clock, and on a whim she called the O’Flaherty house, pleased to have Conor answer on the second ring.

"Conor? Catherine," she said.

"Hi there," he responded brightly. "What’s up?"

"Ryan’s not there, is she?"

"No. She’s coming over tomorrow night, though. She’s probably in Berkeley tonight. Have you tried her cell phone?"

"No, but I called the house. She must be out."

"What’s up? Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, no. I … I did something very impulsive today, Conor, and I’m so excited about it that I could just burst!"

"Don’t even tell me what it is," he said immediately. "I want to hear about it in person. Where are you?"

"Oddly, I’m on Castro Street."

"Oh, no, not you, too! I’m not gonna let ’em have you, Catherine."

She laughed heartily, assuring him, "I haven’t changed my sexual orientation, Conor. I was conducting some business here."

"Are you anywhere near Market?"

"Yes, just two blocks, I think. Why?"

"I’ll meet you at Castro and Market in ten minutes," he said. "Don’t talk to any strangers, especially women!"

* * * * * *

As promised, Conor arrived in just a few minutes and managed to find a space to double-park. He hopped out of the truck and loped down the street, smiling when he caught sight of Catherine. Giving her a hug, he warned, "People may stare at us, but just ignore them. Our kind is pretty rare around here, but we can’t live in shame just because we’re different."

She laughed gently and grasped his hand, letting him lead her back to the truck for the short drive to a legal parking space. They entered Martoonie’s, and he escorted her to a small table. "Name your poison, Catherine. They have every kind of martini ever conceived."

Ignoring the little voice that urged her to give in, she smiled up at him. "I’m in the mood for something non-alcoholic. I’ll take whatever they have that isn’t sweet."

"Done." He turned and sauntered over to the bar, then returned a moment later bearing a caramel apple martini for himself and a mineral water for Catherine. Clinking the rims of their glasses together, he gazed at her seriously. "Now, tell me what we’re celebrating."

She tried to control the luminous grin that insisted on covering her face. "I bought a new house!"

"You bought a new house?" he asked carefully. "I thought you were going to start looking for Jamie and Ryan?" His face broke into a wide grin. "You are an impulse shopper, aren’t you?"

"Usually not. But Alex, the real estate agent I worked with, showed me a house in Pacific Heights that I fell head over heels in love with. It belongs to a production designer who spends most of his time on location. It’s right—"

"At the crest of Divisadero … looking down into the Marina," he supplied, beaming with pride. "And it was recently beautifully renovated by one of the most talented carpenters this side of the Rockies."

"Conor! You renovated my new home!"

"I sure did," he said, smiling brightly. "I do good work, don’t I?"

"It’s a showplace! I’ve never been so impressed with a home."

"Well, I’ve got to admit that the owner came up with most of the ideas that make the place sing, and he also gets credit for going all-out on the moldings and trim. That’s what makes a house look like it’s built with care."

"I didn’t think it was possible to be any more excited, but now that I know you worked on the house, I’m positively giddy."

"You’ve bought a great house, Catherine, and I know you’ll love it there. I am surprised you’re going to move, though. I thought you loved Hillsborough."

She looked at him for a second, then decided to tell him the whole truth. "I love Hillsborough, and I love my house. But lately, I’ve been so depressed that I can hardly stand to be at home. I’ve spent more nights than I can count staying in hotels in the city. I’m … I’m … lonely, Conor. Jim was rarely home, and Jamie has been gone for years, but the ghosts in that house are about to drive me mad."

Instinctively, he reached for her hand, chafing it between his large, warm, callused ones. "I’m so sorry," he said, his eyes filled with concern and empathy.

Her own eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded slowly. "I appreciate that. I think I’ll keep the Hillsborough house—at least for the time being. I love my garden and the pool and it’s calming to spend time outside. I just don’t want to have to sleep there for a while."

"You let me know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, Catherine. I’m a very good listener, and I’ve had my share of heartaches. You’re not alone," he said emphatically, locking his clear blue eyes on her.

"I know that, and I’m more thankful than you can imagine," she said, feeling a few tears welling up. "I might take you up on your offer, too. I don’t like Jamie to see how upset this has made me. She’s got enough to worry about right now."

Grasping her hand again, Conor said, "I meant what I said. If you’re lonely or sad and you want to talk, just give me a call. Do you have my pager number?"

"I don’t think so."

"Take out your cell phone and program me in," he instructed, giving her both his pager and his cell. "Don’t be afraid to use them."

He said it with such emphasis that she believed him completely and vowed to take him up on his offer the next time she was feeling down.

"Thank you, Conor," she said softly. "I never would have guessed that having my daughter decide she was a lesbian could bring such unexpected joy into my life. Being welcomed into your family is healing for me in a way I can’t even begin to express."

"We’re very glad to have you, Catherine. I thought we’d gotten the pick of the Evans family with Jamie, but I think the race is too close to call."

When he beamed a grin at her, Catherine spent just a moment thanking the heavens for bringing her into the circle of love that was the O’Flahertys.

* * * * * *

When Jamie got back to her room, she called Ryan, but didn’t get an answer. Checking her watch, she saw that it was almost 9:00, long past time for Ryan to be home. She called her cell, but the call went to voice-mail immediately, something that usually happened when Ryan was out of cell range. That was an all-too-common occurrence in the Bay Area, so she didn’t let it worry her. Instead, she called home and left a message. "Hi, baby. I’m back in my room, and I’ll probably go to bed soon. If I don’t hear from you in a while, I’ll turn off my phone so it doesn’t wake me. So call my cell and leave a message, okay? I love you with all my heart. And I miss you even more than that. Bye."

* * * * * *

Ryan stayed at the shooting range for a long time, not even noticing how much time had passed until the lights flicked on and off to signal closing time. She didn’t know where to go next, but she wasn’t ready to go home.

She surprised herself by winding up in front of the lesbian bar in Berkeley. It felt like her car had been programmed to head to a safe place. A place where she would be with her own. Her hand froze on the door handle, and she wondered if she was asking for trouble. She knew Jamie wouldn’t approve, but her need for contact was greater than her desire to please her partner. So she went in, sat at the bar, and talked to a bartender she’d never seen before. She nursed a beer the entire time she was there, staring at the colorful liquor bottles on the back bar when Jeri, the bartender, was busy.

For the first time she could recall, no one approached her. She was glad for that, since she didn’t want to strike up a conversation with anyone. But it was a little troubling, too, since it was so unusual. She took a long look at herself in the mirror behind the bar and decided she wouldn’t approach a woman who looked like she did, either.

She looked lonely and aimless and a little jittery—the sort of woman who’d glom onto you and talk your ear off. She blinked, hoping the image would change. But it didn’t. All of her confidence, her cockiness, her spark, were … gone. She looked like the kind of woman she used to feel sorry for—a lonely woman with no one to talk to, the anonymous comfort of a tacky bar the closest thing she had to a friend. She took out a five-dollar-bill and slapped it down, then left without a word, knowing that neither Jeri nor anyone else would notice her departure.

* * * * * *

Ryan walked into the house at midnight, wet and tired and emotionally spent. She played Jamie’s message, a half-smile on her face as she listened to her soothing voice. But her smile darkened when Jamie said she’d turned her cell phone off. Her heart started pounding as she tried to decide what to do. Ryan knew she could call the hotel—she knew that Jamie would want her to—would be angry with her for not calling when she felt so low. But she couldn’t make herself do it. She couldn’t admit to herself how needy she felt.

She also couldn’t examine her heart, searching for the darkest feelings, the ones she rarely forced herself to acknowledge. The feelings that made her guts clench in impotent anger. The ones that irrationally held Jamie responsible for her pain—for abandoning her with such ease.

She dropped to the sofa and tried to decide what to do. For just an instant, she considered doing nothing—just going to bed without calling. But her conscience chided her immediately. So she got up and dialed Jamie’s cell and did her best to leave an upbeat message. Then she went upstairs and logged onto her computer, poking around until she went to one of her favorite math bulletin boards. She read a message from a student in Ireland who was having trouble with his homework assignment, so she shot him an e-mail, offering assistance. He replied immediately, and they met in an IRC chat room and worked on his trigonometry problems until 2:00 a.m. Richard was very grateful for the help, and Ryan knew she’d done most of the work for him, but she felt so much better to connect with someone—even a high school kid thousands of miles away—that she felt like she might be able to sleep. She lay down fully clothed, not even bothering to pull the bedspread off. In minutes, she was fast asleep.

* * * * * *

Part Twelve

On Tuesday afternoon, Ryan consciously tried to fit her usual softball demeanor onto her prickly psyche. She left the locker room and took a path to the field that led her near Coach Roberts. Trotting by him, she said, "You’ve gotta stop calling me at home. Jamie’s the jealous type." She smiled to herself when she heard him chuckle, relieved that she wouldn’t have to explain the previous day’s meltdown. That’s one nice thing about guys. They love to ignore emotional issues. I wonder if it’d be easier to be straight?

As soon as practice was over, she drove to San Francisco and met up with a bunch of her cousins at a local bar to participate in a well-known trivia contest. The boys had been going to The Bitter End for years, and they always played as a team. Ryan had only been there a few times, but Conor wasn’t available, and they wanted to make sure they had someone good with numbers so Ryan was the obvious choice.

She was still in a strange mood, but none of the boys noticed, none of them being particularly sensitive to mood swings. Rory showed up just as the game began, and he was given a roaring welcome, since he was their music ringer. The first category was television shows from the seventies, and they all groaned in unison.

"We’ve got to get one of our fathers to come," Kieran said. "We’re getting killed because we don’t know jack before 1980."

"It’s the first category," Colm said. "Don’t get your panties in a wad."

"He’s not wearing panties," Niall said. "He gave up cross-dressing for Lent."

Ryan signaled for another beer, keeping up with the boys. They started to click, answering question after question. "Damn, we’ve gotta have Jamie come some time," Ryan said. "She knows everything about books."

"Where is she tonight?" Declan asked. "How’d you get the handcuffs off?"

Ryan gave him a sickly smile. "She’s playing golf in So Cal. She’ll be back tomorrow night."

"Wow, it must be love if you don’t have a date later," Dec said, grinning evilly.

"I won’t dignify that with an answer," Ryan said. "And, just for the record, saying that Austin had the biggest port in Texas was dumber than dumb. Stop guessing if you don’t know the answer."

"Touchy," he said, taunting her. "Somebody gets cranky when she doesn’t get any for a couple of days."

When she flashed him a lethal glare, he slapped her hard on the shoulder. "Lighten up, pup. I’ll buy you another. Murphy’s?"

"Yeah. Murphy’s," she said, trying to smile.

* * * * * * * * * * *

At 11:30, Ryan's cell phone rang, and she got up from the table and threaded her way through the tightly-packed chairs, stepping on many toes and kicking the odd shin on her way out. She stood in the vestibule of the bar and clicked the answer button. "H'lo?"

"Where are you?" Jamie asked. "I called you at home two hours ago and asked you to call me back. That’s two nights in a row you haven’t been at home when I expected you to be."

"I'm in the city with my cousins," Ryan said, deftly answering only the first point. The noise was nearly deafening, so she dashed outside, the cool evening hitting her damp cotton shirt and making her shiver.

"At a carnival?" Jamie asked. "It sounds like Times Square."

"We're playing trivia at The Bitter End," Ryan said. "We won two-hundred and fifty bucks. I got the winning answer."

She sounded a little slow, and Jamie asked, "What was that?"

"How many fifty pound cannon balls would it take to fill a two ton container. No … wait. How many two ton … No, that's not it. Uhm … it was something about cannon balls," she said. "Or bowling balls."

"I see," Jamie said. "Did you drive over there, honey?"

"Sure. Inner Richmond’s too far to walk."

"Who's with you?"

"The usual suspects."

"Can I speak with Conor? I want him to do me a favor."

"Huh-uh. Conor didn't come."

"Rory's here," Ryan volunteered. "Can he do your favor?"

My God, she's as high as a kite. I could never get away with this if she were sober. "Yeah. Either he can do it or ask Conor for me."

"'Kay. I'll get him." She went back into the bar and shouted, "Rory!" He looked up and walked over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders to get close enough to hear her. "Jamie wants a favor!"

He gave her a puzzled look and took the phone, stepping outside with his sister. "Hi, Jamie. What can I do for you?"

"If you're as sober as you sound, you can drive your sister home. How much did she have to drink?"

"Sure, I'll be glad to do that," he said, smiling at Ryan’s sloppy grin.

"If she doesn't fight it, I'd rather she slept at your house tonight. Think you can manage that?"

"No problem," he said. "Wanna talk to Ryan again?"

"Sure. Put her on and don't let her drink anymore! She has school in the morning."

"Easier said than done," he said, "but I'll try."

Ryan accepted the phone and winked at her brother when he went back inside. "I miss you," she said.

"I miss you, too, sweetheart. Now, pack up and go home. You have class in the morning, you know."

"Oh, fuck," Ryan said. "I gotta go. Love you."

"I love you, too," Jamie said. She lay down on her bed, her stomach doing a little flip when she thought of the possibility of her lover driving home. No, she won't do that, she thought. Rory won't let her, and if he can't handle her, the boys can throw her in the back of one of their trucks. She sighed heavily. It sure is nice to have a bunch of strong men in the family–even though they're the same ones who lead her into temptation.

* * * * * *

Ryan went back into the bar and signaled to Rory. "Gotta go," she said.

He jumped up and said, "Give me a ride."

She was too slow to realize that he’d driven his own car, so she kissed all of her cousins goodbye and left with her brother. They passed his car on the way to hers, and when she failed to notice it he knew he couldn’t let her drive even the short distance to the Noe Valley. They were a few feet from the BMW when he said, "Mind if I drive?"

"I’m fine," she said, an edge to her voice.

"Fine for what?" he asked. "I just wanna drive a nice car for a change. Mine’s about to fall apart." He knew Ryan was extremely susceptible to guilt, and he hated to use it, but he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

She fished the keys from her pocket and tossed them to him. "You can drive it whenever you want, you know. Why don’t you keep it for a while? I’d be happy to trade."

Damn, a little guilt goes a long way, he thought. "No, once in a while’s plenty. It’s a nice treat."

They got in and he adjusted the mirrors. "Big day at school tomorrow?"

"Nah. Just have my French class at 8:00. Then I’m meeting with my advisor about my project."

"When’s that?"

"What? My meeting?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm … 11:00 or 11:30. I havta check."

"Why don’t you blow your French class off and stay overnight? I miss having breakfast with you."

She gave him a sidelong glance, obviously suspicious. "You think I’m wobbly?"

He could see the sharp look in her eye, and knew he’d better tell the truth. "We’ve both had more than we should. I wouldn’t feel safe going all the way to Berkeley." He was lying, but he didn’t think she’d kept track of his drinking. He’d only had one beer, and he knew she’d had at least five.

"I’ll stay over," she said. "But I’d better get up for my class. It’s hard enough when I go. Skipping will only make it worse."

"Okay. I just thought you could use a little more sleep."

"I could," she agreed. "I could use a lotta things."

"Like what?"

She laughed, but her laughter was tinged with bitterness. "A thirty hour day would help. Having Jamie home more. Being away less. Seeing you guys on the weekends. Seeing Caitlin more. Having Duffy at my house."

He gave her a quick look, surprised at how swiftly she’d come up with her list. "Can you do anything about any of those wishes?"

"Nope. If I could, I would." She lowered her seat and stared out her window.

"You don’t seem like yourself, Ryan. I’m worried about you."

"Mmm. Yeah. I’m worried about me, too."

She said this so matter-of-factly that he was sure it was the alcohol talking. But he decided to make use of a rare situation. "Tell me what you’re worried about."

She yawned noisily. "Oh, the usual shit. I’m worried about not finishing my project and not graduating. I’m worried about my relationship. It’s really fucking it up to be away from each other so much."

"What about upstairs?" he asked, tapping his own head. "How are you feeling up there?"

"Shitty. Totally shitty."

He waited, but she wasn’t more forthcoming. "Doing anything about it?"

"Yes, Rory," she sighed. "I’m in a crappy, useless therapy group. We get together every Tuesday morning and whine about how frightened we are." She gave him a wholly insincere smile. "It’s a delight."

"Why are you going if it’s not helping?"

"’Cause Jamie told me to."

"Ryan, Jamie wouldn’t tell you to go to something that wasn’t helping. Have you talked to her about it? Does she know you don’t like going?"

"Mama’s dead," she snapped. "Aunt Maeve took her place. Not you."

Her words stung, but he knew she didn’t mean to sound so sharp. He started to apologize for butting in, but she beat him to it.

She scratched his arm, letting her hand rest there for a moment. "Sorry I’m being such a bitch."

"You’re not being a bitch," he said. "You’re just down."

"Well, I’m sick of being down. Sick and tired of it."

"It’s the carjacking, huh?"

"Yes. It’s the fucking carjacking." She sighed heavily.

"Does it still bother you that you had to shoot that guy?"

She laughed. The sound so bitter and spiteful that it caught him up short. "I’d love to bring him back—so I could shoot him again. I think about emptying the weapon into him. I start off low and work my way up until I put the last slug right between his eyes."

He didn’t say another word. Ryan had a smug, satisfied look on her face and Rory let her engage in her fantasy. But he felt significantly worse about her than he had at the start of the evening.

* * * * * *

The next afternoon, Ryan was in her room reading when she heard the metallic click of a key being slid into the lock. Like a cat running for the kitchen when it hears the can-opener, she flew down the stairs, her arms open when the door was pushed. Jamie’s sunny smile was the first thing she saw, and Ryan didn’t even realize that she was crying as she threw her arms around her lover. "God, I missed you," she whispered into Jamie’s ear, puzzled by the salty drops of moisture on the blonde strands.

Jamie dropped her shoulder bag, struggling a little in Ryan’s clutch. "I missed you, too." She reached up and brushed her cheek, and felt something wet. Pulling back, she looked into Ryan’s eyes and saw fresh tears. "Oh, baby, was it horrible for you to be alone?"

Ryan released Jamie and dropped her head. Her body seemed to collapse into itself; her shoulders dropped, and her arms folded across her chest as if she were hugging herself.

Jamie had only seen her partner like that a few times, and it broke her heart anew each time it happened. Ryan had to be wounded in a very vulnerable place to cry the way she was now, and Jamie knew how hard it was for the brave woman to show such complete vulnerability.

The blonde kicked the door shut and gently guided her partner to the sofa, deciding to sit on Ryan’s lap. Normally she would have cuddled her, but she guessed that Ryan might feel more in control if Jamie took the more passive role.

Ryan tucked her arms around her partner and nestled her face so hard against Jamie’s neck that the smaller woman thought she might bruise. But she pressed back, doing everything in her power to reassure her lover that she was with her—physically and emotionally. They stayed just like that for a long while.

Ryan wasn’t crying any more, and her breathing was normal, but she seemed incapable of moving. After a long time, Jamie tilted her head just enough to be able to kiss her lover’s cheek, and then Ryan shifted to reach Jamie’s mouth. They kissed gently and slowly, both content to just connect.

At one point, the thought occurred to Jamie that she’d never considered being able to kiss such a lovely woman for such a long time and not want to go further. But Ryan didn’t give any indication that she was feeling sexual, and since Jamie’s sexual response was usually keyed into Ryan’s, she didn’t press her. Instead of the beginning of lovemaking, this was more like a long, long welcome home kiss that neither wanted to end.

When it finally did, Ryan pulled back just enough to stare at her partner’s lips for a full minute. A slow, sure smile blossomed, and she said, "Missed you."

* * * * * *

Jamie had just finished calling for Thai food when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"You have three guesses," Catherine said. "I did something very, very impetuous on Monday, and you get to try to figure out what it was."

"Hold on a sec, Mom, this is Ryan’s favorite game." Holding the phone so that her mother could hear Ryan, Jamie said. "Mom did something very, very impetuous. She wants us to guess what it was."

"Hmm … went skydiving?"

"No, that’s a little bold for me," Catherine said. "This isn’t entirely out of character."

Jamie shook her head and relayed the message to her lover. "You bought something big," Jamie guessed.

"You’re right—but not nearly specific enough," Catherine said.

Ryan’s eyes grew wide, and she asked in a loud voice, "You didn’t buy us a house, did you?" The brunette could hear the amused laugh coming through the receiver, and her heart started to slow its rapid beat.

"Tell Ryan she’s half-right," Catherine said. "I bought a house, but I bought it for myself."

"You bought a new house—for yourself?" Jamie gasped. "Since when … why would you … how long have you been … huh?"

Ryan lifted the phone from her partner’s hand and said, "That’s a very big surprise, Catherine. Where are the new digs?"

"Pacific Heights. Not far from your old school as a matter of fact. Right at the crest of Divisadero."

"Ooh … I bet someone has a view of the bay from her windows."

"A fantastic view," Catherine acknowledged. "Now, I don’t want to keep you two. I know Jamie just got home."

"Don’t be silly," Ryan said. "I’ll always share her with you, Catherine. I just have custody."

"As you should. Now, tell Jamie not to worry. I’m not giving up on Hillsborough. This will be my city house. Really, I should have had one years ago since I’m in the city so often. We’ll still have our big O’Flaherty gatherings down at the old house."

"I don’t know if Jamie would be worried about that, but I was," Ryan said, chuckling softly. "I love that pool, ya know."

"I do," Catherine said. "You and Caitlin both have the same addiction."

"You have my sincere best wishes for your new home, Catherine. And you’ll never want to go back to Hillsborough. But the best part of your news is that we’ll be so close to you on weekends. That’s beyond great."

"I think so, too."

"I’m sure you’re gonna love it, and I’m really happy for you. Here’s Jamie, okay?"

"Bye, Ryan."

Jamie accepted the phone from Ryan and heard her mother say, "I honestly was trying to look for a home for you two, but something about this house just spoke my name, and I had to have it."

"It’s not the type of place we’d like?"

"No, it’s in the wrong neighborhood, and it’s very … uhm … not stuffy, but very elegant and refined. It looks like a home for a middle-aged person, not a pair of young women who plan on having children."

"Gotcha," Jamie said, nodding. "Well, I have confidence that you’ll help us find the right place, Mom. But if I hear of your buying yet another house, I’m taking you off the job."

* * * * * *

After the pair had finished dinner, Ryan put her hand on her lover’s shoulder. "I can’t study tonight. How about you?"

Shrugging, Jamie said, "I guess I could, but I’m not going to. What do you wanna do instead?" She was on the verge of suggesting they go straight to bed, but Ryan was still not putting out any sexual vibes, and she didn’t want to push her.

Giving Jamie a lovesick smile, the brunette said, "I’d be happy to have you sit on my lap all night. I don’t care what we do as long as I’m touching you."

Jamie linked her hands behind Ryan’s neck, having to reach to accomplish the move. "Mean that?"

"Yeah. Of course. Why?"

"I’d love a massage. We were on some tiny puddle-jumping plane, and I didn’t get much time to cool down after my morning match. I feel like I’m all knots."

Ryan lifted her chin and gazed into the distance, moving her hands to a variety of points on her lover’s back. "Mmm … you do feel stiff. Let’s get out the big guns."

Jamie cocked her head in question.

"I brought my massage table over here, and we’ve never used it. How dumb is that?"

"How dumb am I not to know you brought it?"

"Conor brought it over not long after I moved in. He said we had more room than they do, which is true. I put it in the garage."

"Go get it," Jamie said, slapping her on the butt. "And drink some caffeine. I want an all-night massage, Buffy."

* * * * * *

Ryan set up the table in the parlor, mostly because she didn’t want to haul the heavy table up the stairs.

Jamie had stripped to her underwear and walked down the stairs carrying an old sheet and a large bottle of vanilla-scented massage lotion. She wiggled the bottle in her hand. "I don’t want you to stop until this is all gone," she teased.

"A modesty sheet?" Ryan asked, one eyebrow raised.

Jamie stood next to her and kissed her. "A don’t-stick-to-the-vinyl sheet. I’m the opposite of modest when I’m with you. I’m … bumptious."

Ryan drew a fingertip across her lover’s ass. "You have a very nice bum."

"Look it up later," Jamie said as she spread the sheet on the table and slid onto it, sitting upright.

"Underwear?" Ryan asked. "I thought you were bumptious."

"I am." She reached behind herself, unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. Then she lay flat on the table and lifted her hips while she shimmied out of her panties.

Ryan leaned over a little to watch, and when the panties were off, Jamie placed them neatly upon her lover’s head. Ryan smiled and adjusted them until she was satisfied with her little mint green cap. "How do I look?"

"Like a woman wearing a hat with very large ear holes," Jamie said with a giggle.

Ryan whisked it off and tossed the garment near where the bra had landed. "Every once it a while, I’m glad Mia’s gone," she said. "Not very often, but this is one of those times."

Jamie nodded, laughing. "She had impeccable timing. No matter where she was or what she was supposed to be doing, she would have marched in here as soon as you got me covered in oil."

"I think she would have waited for this," Ryan said, tearing off her T-shirt and pajama bottoms. "She had a sixth sense for when I was naked. I can’t count the times she caught me in the shower or changing clothes."

"I think she just liked to see you naked," Jamie said. "Not that I blame her." She rolled onto her side and openly ogled her lover. "You are one gorgeous hunk of flesh, O’Flaherty."

Ryan slapped her on the hip, just a little harder than she had to. "You’d better not flirt with all of your massage therapists."

"Just you," Jamie said. She rolled onto her stomach and let her arms dangle. "Do whatever you want, baby. I’m all yours."

Ryan assessed her for a moment, thinking about Jamie’s general complaint about her back muscles. "I think I’ll start out with a pretty gentle Swedish massage, then get serious."

"Serious?" The blonde head lifted.

Patting her butt, Ryan said, "Relax. I won’t hurt you any more than I have to."

Jamie dropped her head, muttering, "Very reassuring. You should really consider medicine as a field."

Ryan knew her partner was talking, but she was concentrating, making up her action plan. She knew Jamie would repeat herself if she were saying anything important, and if not, it was nice background noise.

She warmed the lotion in her hands and started near the shoulder blades, making smooth, strong, long swipes with her palms across her lover’s back, getting her used to her touch.

The blonde hummed with pleasure, loving Ryan’s touch in any circumstance, but particularly when she was concentrating on rubbing her whole body. After a while, Ryan started to knead the pliant flesh, working from head to toe with a very light pressure. Jamie felt she was floating on a cushion of air, barely able to feel the table under her.

Ryan’s touch grew more concentrated, and she made brisk chopping gestures up and down her lover’s body, energizing her while simultaneously relaxing her. Finally, Ryan started to stretch Jamie, beginning with her ankles and slowly progressing to her knees, hips, hands, elbows and shoulders.

"Ungh," the blonde grunted. "More."

"Plenty more, you little piggy." Now that she was sure Jamie was limber, she began to work a little deeper, this time using her fingers and thumbs. Some of the points she probed caused Jamie to groan a little, but Ryan urged her to breathe through the pain and try to relax.

After a long time, Ryan was fairly satisfied, but there was a knot at the base of her lover’s right buttock for which she needed more leverage. Without warning, she knelt on the table and stood, surprising Jamie who let out a yelp. "You’re gonna break the table!"

Laughing, Ryan said, "This table can take 800 pounds of working weight. I could jump up and down, and it’d be fine."

"What are you doing up there?"

"I need a little leverage," Ryan said. She squatted down, then put her knee right above the knot and began to press while she rotated her leg in a quick, circular motion.

The pressure was quite intense, but Jamie wasn’t able to complain. She could feel the muscle loosen, and realized that it, not her back, was the cause of her earlier pain. She groaned in pleasure as the pain washed through her and disappeared. When Ryan lifted her knee, Jamie moaned, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Hopping back onto the floor, Ryan started to rub her hands all along her partner’s body, keeping the circulation going. "My pleasure. Want some more?"

"Duh … I think I do, but won’t I be sore?"

"Probably—especially in your glutes. You had some real tightness built up there. We’ve gotta work on those muscles more often."

"Must be from shifting my hips in my swing. Maybe I’m not warming up enough."

"Or stretching when you’re finished. Did you stretch today?"

"No." Jamie hid her eyes from Ryan’s gaze. "As soon as I finished my match I had to run into the locker room and put on a dry shirt. We almost missed our flight."

Ryan patted her on the butt. "I know how it is when your team’s waiting, but try to stretch whenever you can, okay?"

"Deal." Jamie raised her head and batted her eyes at her partner. "Now why don’t you give me a nice, gentle, fall asleep massage? I know you’re good at those."

"Already warming up the lotion," Ryan said, rubbing her hands together. She started at her partner’s feet, slathering the lotion around her toes and insteps.

The earlier work seemed to have energized her, and Jamie started chattering away, telling Ryan about each of her matches. The brunette was trying to pay attention, but one golf match sounded very much like the next to her. She was sure that reaching the green with a driver from a bunker two hundred yards away was a wonderful thing, but she guessed hearing about it interested her as much as hearing about solving a quadratic equation impressed Jamie. She figured her job was to take her cues and make the appropriate sound of approval or dismay as Jamie talked.

Even though her lover’s words weren’t spellbinding, Ryan noted that when her partner laughed her ass wiggled in the most adorable fashion, something she’d never noticed before. As Jamie explained a particular shot, she twitched her torso, and her cheeks grew as firm as a pair of melons. What a fantastic view, the brunette thought, feeling a definite tingle in her clit. Why haven’t I put her on her belly more often? It’s like having a whole new girlfriend.

Ryan started working up one tanned leg, feeling the solid muscle in her lover’s calf. Going up the leg, she started imagining ways she could straddle it, dreaming up all sorts of shapes that Euclid had never considered.

There was something very appealing about watching her lover and fantasizing about her when she was completely oblivious. Even though she knew she could always talk Jamie into being sexual, it was fun to start to be sexual without her. Ryan wasn’t sure why that was, but there was some part of her that felt a little guilty about it. That didn’t stop her though, and she realized that part of the allure was that Jamie wasn’t self-conscious since she didn’t know she was being gawked at. Even though the younger woman had come a long, long way, she was still a little skittish about Ryan’s open appraisal of her body. When she didn’t know she was being looked at, she behaved completely naturally, letting Ryan focus on nothing but her body.

Ryan realized that she usually focused on her lover’s eyes and the connection that always built when they made eye contact during lovemaking. Ryan loved that feeling more than she could say, but not having it let her stare at Jamie’s ass—her very favorite spot. She’d seen asses of every shape, size and color, but there wasn’t a doubt that Jamie had the ne plus ultra of asses. Firm, but with enough give to make a lovely pillow, smooth as an infant’s, shapely—with a little dent on the outside of each cheek further defining it. There were a few faint freckles on the uppermost edge of her bottom, right where a low-cut bikini would leave the tender skin exposed to the sun. There was still the vaguest remainder of summer’s tan line, and Ryan had to stop herself from sliding her tongue all the way across it.

Jamie rambled on, with Ryan guessing she was still on Monday’s match. The brunette was barely acknowledging her partner’s commentary now, just mumbling an "uh-huh" here and there. She was so lost in her thoughts that she was sure Jamie would notice, but she was managing to pull it off. She took her partner’s left leg and stretched it at the knee, then pulled her thigh off the table, revealing one of Ryan’s favorite places on earth. Her mouth began to water like a hungry tigress’, and she pulled the thigh further away from the other, making her view all the more alluring.

Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, Jamie continued to talk when Ryan put her leg on the far edge of the table. The brunette switched to the right leg, once again starting at the foot and moving her way slowly upwards. By the time she got to Jamie’s upper thigh, she was ready to eat her partner alive. Ryan’s clit was throbbing, and a rush of warmth spread through her groin. She snuck a look at the lotion, quickly reading the label before she coated her fingers with it. Then, she placed Jamie’s right thigh on the outside edge of the table, opened her lips with one hand while two fingers simultaneously slid inside. Ryan purred with satisfaction when her fingers found their depth, but Jamie squealed, her cunt closing on Ryan’s fingers, making the brunette wince. "Relax, baby," she soothed. "Just a little surprise."

"Mmm …" With a heavy sigh, Jamie’s hips began to sway, and she opened up, letting Ryan slowly turn her hand, touching every surface. "Good surprise. Very good surprise."

"You sure? Should I have asked first?"

"Huh-uh. Surprise me anytime you want. It’s yours," the blonde said, her voice low and sexy. "Anytime you want it."

The way her hips moved made Ryan’s knees weak, and in a matter of seconds, she was sure she would fall. Her head was swimming with desire, and she found herself slipping out of her partner and climbing onto the table, covering her with her body.

She supported as much of her own weight as she could, but Jamie wanted more. "Harder," she demanded. "Let me feel all of you."

Ryan’s hands slid up her slick body and found her lover’s hands stretched out over her head. She grasped them and rode her, pressing her mound into Jamie’s ass while they moved together on the table.

"Bite me," the blonde begged, lifting her head to expose her neck.

Ryan complied, taking a mouthful of tender flesh between her gleaming teeth. She mouthed her, sucking on the skin while pressing into Jamie as hard as she could. She nearly saw stars and wasn’t aware that she was biting down until her partner moaned.

"God damn, that feels good!"

Immediately, Ryan released the skin, nuzzling and kissing the welt she’d made.

But Jamie wasn’t looking for an apology. "Do it again," she begged. "Come on, baby. Do it again."

Ryan had partially come to her senses, and she continued to mouth and suck on bits of flesh across Jamie’s neck and back. But she kept her teeth covered, unwilling to give in to her partner’s temporary desires. Still, even those tender bites were driving Ryan’s need, and she slid down until she was straddling Jamie’s slick thigh. She moved the leg, trying to wedge it between her legs when Jamie let her muscles go loose, allowing Ryan to do whatever she needed.

The brunette supported her torso in a semblance of a pushup, then settled against the curve of her lover’s ass, letting the plump flesh press against her. Her hand slid down, and she opened herself, hissing out a sigh when her overheated clit touched Jamie’s slippery cheek. She lay still for a moment, trying to control herself, but her cunt was throbbing painfully, and she couldn’t wait another second. She started to snap her hips, rubbing against Jamie’s ass with every ounce of her strength. Their skin slapped together, squishing with every thrust. Ryan shook her head and let it fall back, sucking in as much air as she could while she tried to hold out for just a few moments.

Jamie reached behind herself and slapped her lover hard on the ass. "Come on, baby. Come for me!"

Groaning loudly, Ryan grabbed her partner around the waist and thrust hard, once … twice … three times, and then she came noisily, calling out a string of partially formed words before she collapsed upon Jamie, making the table squeak as it bounced on the wooden floor.

"I wanna hold you," Jamie mumbled from underneath her fleshy blanket.

"Unh," was all her partner managed.

The blonde lay still for another few seconds, then realized that she was going to have to secure her own air supply. Using all of her strength, she propped herself up a few inches, taking Ryan with her. Her new position wasn’t terribly comfortable, but she could breathe.

Ryan forced herself into a state of semi-rational thought and slithered off the table, holding on to the edge for dear life while she got her sea legs.

Jamie rolled over, sat up and then scooted down the table, wrapping her arms around her unsteady lover. "My God, what got into you tonight?"

"I have no idea," Ryan mumbled thickly.

Jamie started to giggle, quickly shaking with laughter. "Make sure it gets into you again, okay? I don’t know what the hell we were doing, but it sure was fun!"

Ryan gave her a half smile, looking very much like she did when she’d had too much to drink. She took the sheet from the table and briskly dried her body, then folded it and covered the sofa with it. Wearing her sexiest smile, she lay down and curled a finger at her lover.

"Me? You want me?" Jamie asked, playfully looking around the room.

"You’re the only one in the world."

Jamie walked over to her. "Where do you want me? I’m game for anything."

Making a quick decision, Ryan patted her lap. "Lie against me."

"Like this?" Jamie sat down and used Ryan’s torso as a backrest. She had her knees raised, and Ryan slid her legs down, making a nice little nest for her.

"Perfect. Now I can touch all of the parts I didn’t get to play with before."

"Always thinking," Jamie said. "You’re a planner."

Jamie’s ear was right beside Ryan’s lips, and the brunette spoke softly as she started to touch her. "Have I told you lately how perfectly spectacular your breasts are?" She filled both hands with the silky-smooth flesh and moved her hands up and down a few times before giving them a good squeeze.

"Huh-uh. You’re way behind on your compliment quota."

"I should be spanked," Ryan purred.

"I gave you a pretty good swat earlier," Jamie reminded her. "Was that okay?"

Ryan laughed wryly. "Made me come like a rocket. That’s always a good thing." She started to flick her fingernails against her lover’s nipples, making them as hard as pebbles in moments. "Was it really okay that I snuck up on you?"

"Huh?"

"Before," Ryan said. "When I put my fingers into you."

Jamie didn’t answer right away. She knew that Ryan wasn’t saying something, and she wanted to make sure she knew the real question before she answered it. "How did I act?" she asked, fishing.

Laughing again, Ryan said, "You seemed to get into the mood pretty quickly. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about my fantasizing about you and getting hot when you didn’t know I was doing it."

"Ooh … is that why you were so sizzling hot? I was wondering …"

"Well, you do make me hot in seconds, so that’s not odd, but I had a real good head start this time." Ryan was lightly scratching Jamie’s breasts, covering them in slowly growing circles, then going back to the nipples to plump them up again.

It was hard to concentrate, but Jamie did, hearing something in Ryan’s voice. She sounded like a kid who was fairly sure she was in trouble, but wanted to make sure before she apologized. God, she gets so hot when she thinks she’s done something wrong, Jamie thought, laughing inside. She’s such a good little Catholic girl with a naughty streak a mile wide. I don’t want her to think I was put off by her, but I don’t want her to think it wasn’t just a little wrong, either. That’d take the fun out of it for her. "Keep doing that," she said, pushing back against Ryan so she could pinch her nipples a little harder. "You’re such a little devil."

"Is that good?" Ryan whispered, begging for approval.

"When you’re good, you’re very, very good," Jamie said. "But when you’re bad, you’re better." She grasped Ryan’s hand and slipped it between her legs. Then she spread herself open and guided her lover’s fingers inside, a little growl of pleasure accompanying the motion. She spread her legs as far apart as she could and slumped down a little to give Ryan better access. "Show me your bad self," she whispered, smiling when she felt Ryan’s nipples harden against her back. She’s soooo easy.

* * * * * *