Too Close to Touch (26 page)

here and there, but her grip on Kylie’s hand remained tight and secure.

She felt almost afraid to let go.

Gretchen watched out the window as they zipped along the streets, feeling somehow annoyed at the people who carried on with their mundane tasks on their regular day. Couldn’t they see this was no regular day? She wanted to scream at them. Instead, she gripped Kylie’s hand tighter.

She still couldn’t believe Kylie was here, that she’d taken the time to drive all the way to be here for her, despite the fact that she’d never even met Gretchen’s father.
What did I do to warrant such caring from
her?

Rather than try to answer the question, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to claw her way out from under the pile of thoughts and feelings that threatened to smother her. Her head was too full and she felt like she might simply collapse into a pile of mush any minute from the weight of it all.

They pulled into the driveway of Gretchen’s father’s house after about twenty minutes. As she awkwardly shifted into park with her left hand, Kylie asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to your brother’s place?”

Gretchen shook her head. “I just…don’t want to be around all those people right now.”

“Well, I’ve reserved myself a room at the Holiday Inn for the night and I have my cell. Please don’t hesitate to call—”

“What?” Gretchen interrupted her. “No. No, you don’t have to stay there. You can stay here.”

Kylie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude, Gretchen. I know you want to be alone and I…I understand that.”

“No, no.” Gretchen pressed her lips together as she gathered her thoughts and chose her words carefully. “I don’t want to be around
those
people. But I’d be really grateful if you’d stay here. Tonight. With me.” She stared at her lap, feeling twelve.

Kylie suppressed a grin, thinking that vulnerable actually looked good on Gretchen. “If you’re sure,” she said with gentleness, looking down at their still-linked hands.

“I am.”

“Okay, then.”

They got Kylie’s duffel bag out of the trunk and Gretchen led her into the house. Kylie looked around, trying without much difÞ culty

• 184 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

to picture a young version of Gretchen wandering around, studying, following all the rules like a good girl.

“You can put your bag in here,” Gretchen said as she headed up the hardwood stairs. She opened a door at the top and entered the inviting lavender bedroom of her childhood.

Kylie noticed Gretchen’s bag on the ß oor at the foot of the bed and decided not to comment on the fact that she was being put in the same room. She made a mental note to deal with that later. Her eyes fell on the trophy shelf in the corner and she walked over to it with a smile.

“Wow,” she commented. She ran her Þ ngertips lightly over the metal, wood, and crystal and was reminded of all the “adult” awards in Gretchen’s ofÞ ce back in Rochester. “You were a gymnast?”

“Until I was fourteen. Tore the tendons in my knee.”

“And that was it, huh?”

“That was it.”

“Well, that sucks.” Kylie tried not to think about how heartbreaking a blow that must have been for a girl so young. Her eyes traveled over the academic awards, sensing that Gretchen had simply focused her efforts elsewhere. “You were quite an accomplished kid.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have much of a social life. I was too busy trying to impress my dad with that stuff.” Gretchen’s voice held a trace of bitterness. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

Kylie turned to look at Gretchen, who had kicked off her heels and was now even smaller than Kylie was used to her being. “This is the part where I’m supposed to reassure you that your father was deÞ nitely impressed, but I don’t think that’s going to make much difference to you right now, especially since I never even met the man. So I’ll just tell you this:
I’m
impressed.”

Gretchen’s face softened.
God, I’m glad you’re here.
“Thanks,”

she whispered.

Kylie crossed the room and stood in front of Gretchen, studying her carefully. With Kylie still in her pumps and Gretchen in her bare feet, Kylie seemed to tower over her, emphasizing her recent vulnerability.

She touched a hand to Gretchen’s cheek and ran a thumb over the dark circle beneath her eye.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” she asked with tenderness.

Gretchen shrugged. “Yesterday morning? I haven’t been very hungry.”

• 185 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“I understand that. But you need to eat. Tell you what. Let’s both get out of these clothes and into more comfortable ones and I’ll see if I can’t whip us up a little something. Okay?”

Gretchen didn’t want to admit to the need to be taken care of, at least for tonight; it just wasn’t in her nature. But it was such a relief to hand over the reins, no matter how uncharacteristic a move. She weakly nodded her assent and turned to her opened bag.

Kylie rummaged through her own bag, pulled out a gray Provincetown T-shirt and an old pair of navy blue gym shorts, and went into the adjoining bathroom to change, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Ignoring the lingering scent of Gretchen’s perfume that hung in the air of the small room, and resisting the urge to examine the brands of shampoo and soap in the shower, she changed quickly and exited.

In the bedroom, Gretchen was sitting on the edge of the bed, still clad in her black dress and staring off into space. Kylie approached her slowly, squatted down in front of her, and laid a hand on one knee.

“Gretchen?” She looked up into the drawn face and watery eyes.

“You okay?”

Gretchen said simply, “I had time, you know.”

“Time for what, sweetheart?”

“Time to Þ x things. With my dad. Time to talk to him, to try to iron out the issues. He wanted to, I think. My brother was right. I was too selÞ sh, too stubborn. Just like him.”

Kylie took in a deep breath, searching for the right words to say and having a harder time than she expected. “Everybody has regrets when somebody dies, Gretchen. I think that’s a normal reaction. We all have things we wish we’d said or done differently.”

Gretchen nodded, her gaze Þ nally focusing on the younger woman who was trying so hard to make her feel better. She brushed her Þ ngers through the front of Kylie’s hair. “I know.”

Kylie smiled, loving the feeling of connectedness Gretchen’s touch instilled in her. “I’m going to go loot the kitchen. Get changed and come on down, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kylie squeezed her hand and left the room. Only then did Gretchen allow one lone tear to spill over and track down her pale cheek. She focused on it, forced herself to feel the warmth of it as it left a line down her face. Crying wasn’t something she did often, and the sensation was

• 186 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

practically foreign to her. She was tough and strong.
Tough, strong
people don’t show emotion.
She learned that from watching her father, who rarely showed any emotion other than stoicism.

But she was so tired. Being tough and strong and stoic was exhausting. Had John Kaiser been this tired?

She sighed as if the weight of the world was upon her shoulders, then stood up and removed the black dress. She changed into soft cotton drawstring pants in a baby blue with pink stripes and a simple, snug white tank top. Examining her pale, drawn face in the bathroom mirror, she sighed again, thinking, as she reached for a plastic hair clip, that she looked every bit as old and tired as she felt. She pulled her unruly hair back and fastened the clip at the base of her neck.

The smell of food hit her the second she opened the bedroom door and she salivated immediately. The rumbling of her stomach was loud enough to surprise her and she actually smiled at the sound.

Okay. Apparently, I’m hungry.

Kylie was humming softly as she ß itted around the kitchen, searching cupboards and the fridge for various items required to create her culinary masterpiece of cheese omelets. Gretchen stood in the doorway, unseen for several minutes, just watching her.

Kylie’s toned legs were showing signs of a summer tan, and something about the fact that she was barefoot made her seem even sexier. The T-shirt was worn and it clung to her body lovingly with no undergarment to hinder it. Rebellious strands of hair had been tucked haphazardly behind her ears and as Kylie stood at the stove monitoring the progress of the eggs, Gretchen had the almost irresistible urge to hug her from behind. Instead, she gritted her teeth and cleared her throat as she entered the kitchen so as not to startle her.

“Smells terriÞ c,” she commented.

Kylie smiled at her and Gretchen didn’t miss the way Kylie’s eyes quickly slid over her body before she redirected them back to the frying pan. “Nothing says ‘comfort food’ like eggs and a glass of milk.” She gestured with her chin at the small table in the corner of the kitchen.

“Sit.”

“I didn’t realize how hungry I actually am until I smelled food.”

Gretchen pulled out a chair, noting with a gentle smile that Kylie had set it for the two of them and that it seemed perfectly natural. She propped her chin in her hand and watched the artist at work. “Do you cook often?”

• 187 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“Not really,” Kylie said as she expertly ß ipped the omelet in the pan. “I like to cook, but it doesn’t make much sense to go to the trouble for just one person. I eat a lot of cereal,” she said with a wink.

Gretchen grinned. “Me, too.”

Kylie slid the omelet onto a plate and cut it in half, the melted cheese spilling out as she did so. She transferred one half to a second plate and delivered both plates to the table. Gretchen’s gaze never left her as Kylie settled herself down in her own chair and picked up her fork. When she looked up, their eyes met and held.

“Okay?” Kylie asked.

“Okay,” Gretchen nodded.

They ate in comfortable silence. When they Þ nished, Kylie stood and cleared their plates.

“No,” Gretchen protested. “You cooked. I clean. It’s only fair.”

“Gretchen.” Kylie’s voice was gentle, but with a Þ rmness to it that stopped Gretchen in mid-rise and caused her butt to drop back into her chair. With a tenderness that Gretchen hadn’t heard in what felt like ages, Kylie said, “Let me take care of you. All right?”

Gretchen swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened more tears and nodded.

“Thank you,” Kylie said, and began loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Once the counter was wiped down and she was drying her hands on a dishtowel, she turned back to Gretchen. “What else do you need? Coffee?”

Gretchen looked up at the clock. It was seven in the evening and still light out. “Do you think…?” she began, then looked down at her hands, clasped on the table in front of her. “This is going to probably sound a little weird.”

Kylie smiled that gentle smile of hers and stepped close to Gretchen, leaning a hip against the table. “Hit me.”

“I want to curl up on my bed and watch TV with you. Is that silly?”

“It’s not silly at all. As a matter of fact, I think it sounds perfect.”

Kylie tossed the towel onto the table and held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

Gretchen was annoyed once again to feel her eyes welling with tears as she placed her hand in Kylie’s and allowed herself to be led up the stairs to her own bedroom.

• 188 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

It was a warm evening and Kylie opened the windows wide as Gretchen used the bathroom, letting in the balmy summer breeze. She pulled the bedspread down and folded it neatly along the foot of the bed, loving the softness of the creamy ivory sheets underneath. She found the TV’s remote on the dresser and held it in her Þ st as she crawled along the bed, impressed with the Þ rmness of the mattress. She propped up an ample supply of pillows and arranged herself against the white wooden spindles of the headboard.

She was ß icking through the notable selection of cable channels when Gretchen came out of the bathroom. Her hair was free of the clip, her cheeks were pink from scrubbing, and she smelled like soap. She looked utterly exhausted.

“Come here.” Kylie opened her arms.

Again, Gretchen didn’t even hesitate. She crawled along the bed and burrowed into Kylie’s embrace, pushing her face into Kylie’s neck, curling up against Kylie’s side, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief as she felt Kylie’s arm wrap around her and tighten, pulling her closer.

“Comfy?” Kylie asked, placing a sweet kiss on top of Gretchen’s head.

Gretchen could only nod, afraid if she tried to speak, the unfamiliar combination of emotions within her—grief, regret and loss mixed with intense desire, safety, and love—would cause the dam to break and she’d become a blubbering mess. Worse, she was afraid if she started to cry again, she wouldn’t be able to stop this time, possibly ever. Instead, she swallowed hard, draped her arm over Kylie’s stomach and reveled in the alien sensation of being protected.

“Let me know if you see something you want me to stop on.” Kylie was channel surÞ ng like a pro. “I have a bad habit of just constantly ß ipping through and I don’t stop long. Just say something, okay?”

Gretchen nodded again, Þ nding herself more engrossed in watching Kylie’s hand on the remote than what was actually on the screen…the delicate blue latticework of veins in her wrist, the feminine shape of her Þ ngers, the evenly Þ led Þ ngernails. She watched as Kylie’s thumb pushed the channel button at regular intervals. It was almost hypnotic, and it wasn’t long before Gretchen’s eyes drifted closed.

• 189 •

• 190 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When Gretchen’s eyes popped open, it was dark and she had no idea of the time. Vague remnants of a dream clung to the outer edges of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp any solid memory of it.

Live life.