Falling for Hope (4 page)

Lindsey smiled, mouth curving up at the
corners.
 
“When Irene and I first got
together…
 
Well, Irene was my first
relationship with a woman.”
 
Lindsey
rolled her eyes, laughing.
 
“I’d just
gotten divorced from my husband.
 
I
divorced him so young, and I felt so broken.
 
I couldn’t love him.
 
I’d tried
and I’d failed.
 
And then here’s this
woman…
 
She owns her own company.
 
She’s gorgeous beyond belief.
 
She knows exactly what she wants from life.
 
And she wants me.
 
Me
,” said Lindsey, raising her eyes to meet Amy’s.
 
They stared at one another for a moment, and
then Lindsey shook her head again.
 
“I
know you guys joke that I’m the drill sergeant, but back then, I didn’t have
anything together.
 
I was worried that
the relationship would fall apart in my hands, that it was all a dream.”

Amy blinked, remembering her feeling from earlier
that morning, that her night with Hope had only been a dream.

“But sometimes…”
 
Lindsey trailed off, scratching her nail against the counter again,
absentmindedly.
 
“Sometimes, things have
a way of working out when you least expect them to.
 
Don’t give up hope,” she told Amy.
 

And Amy nodded, feeling her heart, and hope, rise
within her.

“Hey, you guys!” called Irene from outside.
 
Lindsey’s mouth quirked sideways as she
suppressed a smile and stood up.

“And there’s my Princess Charming now,” she said,
winking at Amy.
 
“Coming, darling!” she
said, much louder, and turned on her heel to walk out of the kitchen.

Aspen wandered into the kitchen, then, brushing past
Lindsey with a grin before plopping herself down on the chair that had been
recently vacated.
 
“The butches are up
on the roof,” she said with a chuckle, swiping Amy’s yogurt cup with a brow
raised.
 
“Are you finished with this?”

“Yeah, Asp, have it,” said Hope, pushing herself
away from the table.
 
With a sudden and
firm resolve, she walked to the fridge and took out the fresh-squeezed lemonade
that was Cole’s specialty.
 
She poured
three tall glasses and managed, somehow, to balance them all in her hands
(secretly thankful that the glasses were plastic, and if she fumbled, it wasn’t
going to end in tragedy, so long as she fumbled outside).
 
She made her way toward the kitchen door and
pushed it open gingerly.

The broad front porch of the cabin had been built
with large gatherings in mind.
 
It was
unusually empty, because everyone was assembled near the front area of the
woods, staring up with shaded eyes at the roof.
 
Amy ventured off the porch, too, with the glasses.

Hope, Irene and Chris had a bucket of tar, two
toolboxes and a few boards up on the roof with them.
 
Chris had a tool belt around her waist, and she was currently
flexing her arms—to the coos of delight from her new girlfriend below.
 
Amy thought she remembered now that her name
was Claudia.

“I brought you guys some lemonade!” she called, and
Hope turned, offering Amy her easy smile.

“We’ll be down for lunch in a minute or two.
 
I just want to make certain it’s all set,”
she said, and Amy grinned in pleasure.
 

“I haven’t even had a real chance to use this!” said
Chris, making her voice boom into the clearing on purpose, as she thrust
forward her tool belt, making Irene roll her eyes and Hope laugh.
 

“Chris, Irene and I did all of the patching,” Hope pointed
out, “while you very helpfully stood up here and birdwatched.”

 
“That’s
because there’s such a hot chick down there,” bantered Chris, as her new
girlfriend sighed in raptures.
 
“I got
distracted.”
 

“Oh, please,” said Irene, but the women on the ground
were laughing too hard to hear her.

When Irene and Hope and Chris safely descended from
the roof, everyone retreated to the porch, and Lindsey went inside to get more
lemonade for everyone, bringing out two full pitchers and a riot of
funky-colored plastic glasses.
 
Chris
and Irene took their glasses gratefully, downing them, but Hope held hers in
one hand and looped her other arm around Amy’s middle, drawing the woman
closer.

Amy could feel the flush begin to creep over her
face as the women seated in wicker chairs and leaning against the porch rails
watched in varying degrees of interest and shock as Hope bent down and kissed
her.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” said Hope companionably, as
she raised her eyebrows with a grin and began to drink her lemonade.

“Oooh!” said Aspen, straightening and watching the
two of them, smiling brightly.
 

“About damn time,” said Cole, crossing her legs and
grinning at Amy and Hope.
 
The rest of
the women made agreeing murmurs, laughter echoing around the porch, and Amy
smiled at them, feeling herself begin to relax.
 

But then she glanced at Chris.

The woman was clenching and unclenching her hands
into fists, face tense as her jaw worked, as her shoulders began to rise.
 
She pushed off from the porch railing,
setting her lemonade glass down with a
slam
against the wood of the
rail.

“Wow, Hope,” she snarled, words cutting through the
group like ice.
 
“Couldn’t even wait
until she was cold, could you?”

Hope glanced up, blue eyes flashing.
 
She stared at Chris, mouth open, breathing
out.

“Chris, you’ve got to be kidding…” began Irene,
standing as she placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder, but Chris shrugged it off,
stepped forward quickly.
 
Tension
crackled in the air.
 

“No.
 
I’m
serious,” she snapped.
 
“Melissa’s been
dead, what—six months?
 
How long has
this
been going on?”
 
She almost spat out the
last few words, growling them so that they sounded sharp, knife-like.

“
This
has been going on since last night, not
that it’s any of your damn business,” said Hope quietly, voice low, eyes still
ablaze.
 

The two women stood, glaring, but not for long.
 
Chris wavered for half a heartbeat, took a
step back, and then said, “Am I the only one who still gives a shit about
her?”
 
It was sudden, how all of the
fight drained out of her, and she turned quickly, brushing past Lindsey on her
way off the porch, into the cabin.
 
Doors slammed, and then all was quiet.

“Well,” muttered Irene, pinching the bridge of her
nose.
 
“That might have gone a bit
better.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Aspen, jumping up and
hugging Amy tightly, and then Hope.
 
“You guys are beautiful together, really,” she said.
 
One by one, the women discreetly stood and
began to let themselves into the cabin, or moved off the porch toward the soggy
trails and the path leading to the lake.
 

Hope and Amy found themselves alone.

Amy’s shoulders were trembling.
 
She didn’t realize why until the first tear
traced itself down her cheek.
 
She
reached up, surprised, and wiped it away, turning from Hope even as the woman
reached out and took her wrist gently.

“Amy,” said Hope softly, but Amy was shaking her
head.
 
“No…please listen to me, Amy…”
whispered Hope, stepping behind the woman before wrapping her arms around Amy’s
waist and shoulders.
 
Amy felt Hope
against her back, felt the solidity of her, smelled the familiar, comforting
scent of Hope’s shampoo and coffee.
 
Amy
was just beginning to learn the intimate details of Hope, that new language of
a woman who felt so right… She’d felt right about other women before, but never
quite like this.
 
There had been such an
intensity last night, and she felt it here again, now, as Hope held her.

“I’m listening,” Amy whispered, closing her eyes
tightly as more tears leaked out.

“What happened last night…
 
I’ve been waiting a while for it.
 
And I know you have, too,” Hope murmured in her ear, the words
soft and warm and strong.
 
“Did it feel
right to you?”

Amy felt herself nodding as another fat tear
squeezed itself from her eyes and began to roll down her cheek.
 

“We’re starting to explore this.
 
Whatever
this
is,” said Hope gently,
squeezing her arms a little tighter about Amy.
 
“And it’s good, and it’s golden.
 
I wouldn’t take last night back for anything in the world.
 
Even if Chris…”
 
Hope’s voice caught.
 
Amy
knew how close Chris and Hope were and breathed out, feeling the weight of
Hope’s sadness.
 
“Don’t you worry about
it,” said Hope, letting her go gently.
 
“I’ll fix it,” she told Amy, as Amy turned, gazing at Hope through
tear-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry…” she began, but Hope shook her head,
cupped her hands around Amy’s face gently.
 
Hope’s fingers smelled of wood and tar and lemonade as she leaned
forward and kissed Amy, her lips soft against Amy’s mouth.
 
Amy wrapped her arms around Hope’s neck and
drew her closer.

There was another crash of thunder, though it was
positioned a little ways down the mountain now.
 
Rain began to sprinkle on the leaves surrounding the cabin, and
Hope and Amy made their way back inside, hand in hand.

And through that afternoon storm, the patch on the
roof held out the rain.

Finding
Hope

Amy struck the match and hurriedly
held it to the clump of dried grass and twigs.
 
But, as she expected, the match flickered and went out.

“What if you were stranded in the
wilderness?” asked Irene, taking the matchsticks from Amy and lighting another
one.
 
Irene placed the match against the
tinder, and a flame flickered to life against the grass and twigs, shooting
upwards to graze the bigger logs in the fireplace.
 
Irene fed the small blaze a few more twigs, and within a short
time, the fire smoked and crackled to life.

“If I was stranded in the
wilderness,” said Amy wryly, “I’d probably die of exposure.”
 
She rose to her feet, dusting her palms off
on her jeans.
 
Irene chuckled and added
a couple of logs to the fire before she shut the grate and stood, too.

“Open that right back up, missy,”
said Lindsey, briskly sailing into the room holding a large plate of hot dogs
and veggie dogs, which she placed on the floor before the fireplace.
 
“If we can’t have a bonfire wiener roast
outside, by God, we’ll have it
in
side.”

“Yes, dear,” said Irene with a
grin, opening up the grate.

“Supper’s on, ladies!” Lindsey
called with all of her might, and the rest of the women in the cabin began to
enter the warm room.

Outside, an arc of lightning tore through
the sky, followed by a spectacular boom of thunder as the storm raged on.

Hope carried a plate piled with
marshmallows and squares of chocolate and graham crackers, and Cole toted an
assortment of sticks.
 
Aspen, Vanessa
and Shirley were bundled up in sweaters, but as the last three women came in
from the hallway, Amy let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been
holding.

No sign of Chris.

Amy sat down on one of the rocking
chairs in front of the fire and let it rock her for a long moment, the chatter
of the women fading into the background as she thought back on the strange day
she’d had.
 
She wondered if Chris would
ever speak to her again.

Hope, too, was moody as she set
down the plate and sat in the rocker next to Amy, taking her hand but not
saying anything.
 
She didn’t even smile
when Amy glanced her way, only stared into the sizzling fire with a downward
turn of her mouth.
 
On Hope, who smiled
as naturally as most people breathed, the frown seemed out of place and
strange.

Hope and Amy had kissed for the
first time and had finally gotten together, after years of pining for one
another, only the night before.
 
Since
all of the women gathered in the cabin were the best of friends, and—more to
the point—women who loved other women, it shouldn’t have been a problem that
Hope and Amy had decided to begin a relationship.
 

But six months earlier—six months
and two days, thought Amy quietly—Melissa had passed away in a fatal car crash
that rocked the core of their group of friends.
 
And Melissa and Hope had been partners, on and off again, for
many years.
 
They weren’t together when
Melissa died, though, and they had never been quite right for each other.
 
Everyone had said so.
 
Everyone had known it to be true.