Fallen Elements (18 page)

“Leah, I want to ask you something.” Jenny
looked at Ryan and then back at the blonde. “Actually, Ryan’s been
wondering, but is far too polite to ask, so it falls to me.” Jenny
cupped her hand to the side of her mouth, and lowered her voice.
“So did you and Karen used to fuck?”

“What the hell!” Greg’s voice boomed above
the noise of the crowd. “That’s enough.” Before anyone could
respond, Greg spun Jenny around, and ushered her toward the back
door. “You need to get yourself some fresh air.”

Ryan was standing in stunned silence as
Leah’s face turned several different shades of red from obvious
embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

Leah took a deep breath, the muscles in her
jaw tensing as her eyes filled with tears. “Did you say that to
her?”

Ryan shook her head. “No! Absolutely
not.”

Leah wiped at an errant tear, before turning
to Nicole. “Thank you for the invitation, but I need to go.”

Nicole, rarely speechless, could only manage
a slight nod as Leah turned and left. “Short of gun fire, I can’t
see how that could have gone any worse.” Nicole managed after Leah
had shut the front door.

Ryan collapsed against the wall, her head
pounding. “Jesus, what the hell was that?” She rubbed her face, and
looked toward the back door. “I wanted to punch her.”

Nicole stepped in front of Ryan and put her
hands on her shoulders. “That’s an idea. Instead of giving the
blithering bitch anymore of your attention, why don’t you go after
Leah and try to fix this shit.”

Ryan looked at the front door, and then at
the back door before returning her attention to Nicole.
“Right.”

Ryan pushed past Nicole, and out into the
cool night air. The rush of cold against her overheated skin sent a
surge of energy through her. Scanning the dimly lit street, Ryan
spotted Leah nearly a block away, and began running toward her.

“Leah!” Ryan’s breath came in short bursts as
she closed the distance between her and the blonde.

Leah turned around, her car keys in hand, the
collar of her black Chesterfield coat pulled up around her face.
“Ryan, you should go back. It’s cold.”

Stopping just short of running into the
woman, Ryan took a steadying breath. “Don’t go.” She brushed a
stray strand of hair from her forehead, and then blew warm air into
her cupped hands.

“It’s getting late.” Leah’s voice was low as
she spoke, and her cheeks and nose were flush from the cold night
air.

Ryan had taken off after Leah so quickly she
hadn’t stopped to think about what she actually wanted to say to
the woman. Trying to buy herself time so her brain could catch up,
Ryan absently ran her hand over the hood of the black Nissan Altima
they were standing next to. “I meant to tell you earlier that I
like your car.”

Leah nodded. “Thank you. Seriously, you
should go back in.”

Ignoring the other woman’s persistence, Ryan
continued. “I need to get a car. You know, with the commute to
work. Would you recommend this one?”

Leah cocked her head to the side as her eyes
narrowed. “You didn’t come out here to talk about my car, did
you?”

It took several seconds before Ryan could
work up the courage to look up at Leah. Her breath caught, and she
felt her stomach tighten. The dim light from the street lamp was
catching the highlights in Leah’s hair, and independent of any
reason, Ryan closed the space between her and the woman.

Ryan’s voice was low and intimate when she
spoke. “I’m sorry. She was out of line.”

Leah’s eyes widened with Ryan’s sudden
proximity, and she leaned back, scanning the other woman’s face.
“Did you say that - about Karen and me?” Her voice caught.

Ryan took Leah’s hand in hers. “Never.” The
chill in the air vanished, and Ryan felt warmth spreading from her
chest out to the entirety of her body as she slowly placed her hand
on Leah’s cheek.

A stillness settled inside Ryan as she gently
placed her lips on Leah’s. Something akin to a shock pulsed through
her with the first tentative touch of her lips against Leah’s warm,
full ones. Wrapping her arm around the small of the blonde’s back,
Ryan pulled her closer.

At the first touch of Leah’s tongue to hers,
and Ryan felt the sidewalk beneath her shift. She clung to the
woman, as the scent of vanilla filled her senses and waves of heat
pulsated through her. A quiet moan escaped Leah, and the blonde
quickly stepped back.

Ryan tilted against the side of the car, her
entire body vibrating. “Wait.” Before she could think of anything
else to say, Leah was in her car, and reflexively Ryan righted
herself so the woman could pull away from the curb.

As the car’s tail-lights faded in the
distance, Ryan felt spent. Her legs buckled, and she found herself
sitting on the curb. The cold concrete of the sidewalk seeped
through her jeans, leaving her feeling numb. Ryan wrapped her arms
around her chest. The cold air returned with a vengeance, forcing
Ryan to her feet.

Looking down the street, there was no sign of
Leah. “Shit.” Ryan muttered as she began walking back to her
apartment.

A dull ache had settled in Ryan’s stomach by
the time she reached her front door. It was a longing she was
unfamiliar with, and it made her feel restless. She could hear
laughter from the party through the door, but couldn’t bring
herself to rejoin the festivities.

It would be so easy to explain away her
relationship with Leah as a simple attraction. Ryan wished she
could sum her feelings up in terms of lust. The truth was she had
been undone by the woman, and immersed in the heaviness of desire,
Ryan felt pieces of herself missing. They had left with Leah.

Chapter 9

Ryan completed her weekly project summary
email to Donnie, clicked send, and leaned back in her chair. Over
the past few weeks she had settled into her office, and had even
found time to get her degrees framed and hung on the wall.

Last week she had ordered a framed print by
her favorite artist Raoul Dufy. It had been delivered that morning,
and was leaning against the wall of her office until Ryan decided
where to hang it.

She had first seen Dufy’s work in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York when she was fifteen. Ryan
had realized over the years, that though a fan of Impressionism,
she had more of an affinity for Fauvist painters. Their bold colors
and visible brush strokes had resonated with Ryan, and she smiled
as she looked at
The Harvest
print. The pastoral setting
with its bold oranges, blues, and yellows reminded her of autumn
colors in upstate New York.

The smile left her as she wondered if Leah
liked Dufy. Rolling her eyes, Ryan stood up and stretched. Leah had
been a distraction for the better part of the day, and had impeded
Ryan’s sleep the night before. Their exchange during and after
Ryan’s birthday party had left Ryan more confused about her
feelings than ever.

Shaking her head, Ryan walked down the hall
toward the break room. She was resolved to eat her lunch while
looking at new car reviews online, and to
not
give Leah
another thought until she was prepared to do something about the
situation.

Returning to her desk with her ham and cheese
sandwich, Utz potato chips, and Sprite in hand, Ryan navigated to
the Consumer Reports website, and began scrolling through the
mid-size car reviews. After only five minutes her interest waned,
so she wiped the potato chip grease off her hands, and reached into
her bag to retrieve the diary. She had to admit she was curious how
the Sebille women fared, and if they were able to keep their
home.

Our home was full this evening as three men
from the court met to discuss the situation with the Sebille
family. I had not imagined it warranted this level of attention,
but clearly Isaac has failed – I suspect intentionally – to provide
me with the entirety of the story.

I was familiar with two of the men. Goodman
Payne and Goodman Middleton. The third man, who I have never seen
before, had an intensity about him matched only by the piercing
blue of his eyes. Isaac introduced the man to me as Samuel Tynan.
His skin was as pale as snow, and his touch, as he took my hand in
his, was cold as ice.

“
Goody Allerton, your husband has spoken
of you so often at court I feel as if we have already met.” The
man’s voice seemed almost musical, and I am ashamed to admit it,
but I blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

Isaac would tell me later that Goodman Tynan
had recently arrived in town along with his wife, Hester, and her
widowed sister Coleen Mabyn. Goodman Tynan had bought the Potter
Estate, and had made his fortune by trading in ceramics, furs, and
iron, along with cotton, woolen and silk fabrics prior to leaving
Europe.

He has applied for citizenship in the
colony, and Isaac said he would be a freeman within the year as his
references and breeding are impeccable. I look forward to seeing
for myself as just today we received an invitation to attend a
gathering at the Tynan home for the town First Comers and their
families.

I do hope my stomach does not impede my
ability to attend, for I have been practically housebound this past
month and venturing out into the town can only serve to lift my
spirits!

Oh, what a glorious evening! I would dare
say my weeks in confinement had left me an easily impressed guest,
but I cannot imagine anyone not so thoroughly enjoying themselves
as I did tonight at the Tynan gathering.

I had known the Potter Estate was one of the
larger houses in town, but I did not know that Goodman Tynan had
the house completely reappointed. Though still modest, maple and
mahogany wood runs throughout the home, and the furnishings are
indicative of the family’s ties to the fur trade as nearly each
chair and sofa were covered in pristine animal hides.

The food was no less magnificent! I was so
pleased my stomach had settled, for I could never have forgiven
myself if I had not so completely indulged in the fare offered
tonight. We were given the finest duck I have ever tasted, along
with a succulent swine. In spite of the season, our hosts managed
to lay out a lavish spread that included an assortment of
chestnuts, walnuts, and hazelnuts.

As if our belly cheer were not enough, we
indulged in sweet puddings from boiled corn mixed with sugar and
cinnamon, then fried in butter. It was glorious!

Our hosts were no less indulgent. Though the
house was full of guests, they managed to make their way to each
and every one of their guests, and I felt so utterly welcomed by
them.

Goody Tynan is a remarkably handsome woman
with skin like porcelain and eyes the same piercing blue as her
husband’s. They make a most attractive couple. My attention,
though, could hardly be pulled away from Goody Mabyn, and my cheeks
redden as I remember the forward way she took my hand in her cool
one, her blue eyes seemingly lit up as she smiled upon me.

It is not enough to say she is handsome,
Coleen (she insisted on more than one occasion that I refer to her
by her Christian name) is the most striking and beautiful woman I
have ever seen. Her hair is a shiny spill of brown auburn waves,
and looks to be as smooth as silk. Her skin, like her sister’s, is
flawless and alabaster in its tone.

Coleen is remarkable, and as well traveled
as any man. Her deceased husband had been business partners with
Goodman Tynan, and both she and her sister Hester have been
afforded many opportunities to endeavor with their husbands on
countless excursions to parts of this world I can scarcely
imagine.

Coleen spoke of her travels to Spain,
France, and even into the northern parts of the African continent.
I found myself breathless as she conveyed the beauty of the sun
drenched savannahs of Africa, and the mountain peaks of France.

I was touched by her attention, and found
her most endearing as she repeatedly inquired about my child. Her
interest was genuine as she asked after my health, and the health
of the baby. I assured her Goody Sebille was taking care with my
pregnancy.

At the mentioning of Margery, I was certain
a look of recognition crossed Coleen’s face, but when I asked
whether she was familiar with the Sebille family she assured me
that given her family’s recent arrival in town, she had barely
received any visitors.

I do hope to be friends with Coleen. She is
a most fascinating woman, and I am sure she – and her family – will
be a welcome addition to our fine community.

Ryan walked up to the Boston Street
Starbucks. She had just bought a new Honda Civic, and could have
driven it to meet Jenny, but she had thought the half mile walk
would do her good. Halfway there, and feeling on edge about the
conversation that laid ahead, Ryan felt as if she were on a death
march.

Given Jenny’s recent performance at her
birthday party, Ryan had decided to call the whole thing off. This
was causing her some distress, but not nearly as much as seeing
what Jenny’s hurtful words had done to Leah.

“First, I am
so
sorry.” Jenny stood as
Ryan approached the table she occupied near the far corner of the
shop. In spite of the chill in the air outside, the Starbucks’ air
conditioner was running, and the store was unusually cold,
prompting Ryan to leave her pea coat on.

Ryan accepted Jenny’s hug, and then the two
women sat. “What’s this?” Ryan looked down at the white and green
cup in front of her.

“Earl Grey, one sugar.” Jenny smiled.

Ryan nodded but didn’t reach for the cup.
“Look, I think we -”

Jenny held up her hand. “Ryan, please let me
start. I have had a few days to think about this, and I can’t tell
you how sorry I am for how I behaved.”