Ember Flowers (21 page)

Jean smiled. Jo
pulled out bowls and plates. She watched the tall woman’s back move
as she reached.

“So what
happened? If you want to talk about it?” Jean tilted her head
compassionately, running her short nails over the bench top.

Jo sighed,
ladling out rice. She loaded her own plate with steamed vegetables.
“Someone went through a stop sign, took out a mother and two little
kids. Youngest one died in hospital after they cut them out. Other
two dead at the scene.” She braced her hands on the bench, hunching
a little.

Jean ran her
hand over Jo’s back, rubbing her shoulder. “That’s horrible.”

“Yes. It was a
mess.”

They stood in
silence for a moment. Jean was silently glad she didn’t see things
like that in her line of work. The worst she’d ever come across
were the remains of a client’s cat.
Fluffy’s stiff form on the
side of the road was hardly the stuff of nightmares. Not like
that.

Jean felt her
leg being tugged, she looked down to see extended arms and little
blue eyes. Jo looked at her wearily, but didn’t protest.

The brunette
picked the toddler up, sitting her on the edge of the counter as
her shirt was gripped by little hands. The blonde girl looked over
at the food curiously. The older woman tweaked her cheek. Annabelle
seemed to have taken to her as a new playmate, Jean didn’t
mind.

***

Joanne hadn’t
said much for the remainder for the evening, she sat beside Jean on
the sofa, her arm running along it’s back. Her older lover held her
hand in an act of quiet comfort. Jo seemed restless. The day’s
trauma weighing heavily on her mind, there had been counselling
offered but she’d refused. To her it was part of the job, not the
first and not the last she’d see that upset her.

Jean felt the
tall woman’s weight shift against her, Jo moved to lay flat with
her blonde head in Jean’s lap. Silently watching the screen. Tanned
fingertips ran through her silky hair. Annabelle had been laid down
to sleep earlier, her energy running out for the evening too.

A murmur
against her denim covered thigh. “I hate hospitals.”

The brunette
rubbed her back. “Me too. Why?”

Jo crossed her
arms against herself. “I went with that little girl in the
ambulance today. Was critical, no time. She was unconscious for
most of it, but she came to when we got to the E.R.”

She sighed
softly, continuing. “Someone went to talk to her father, he should
have been the one with her when she died. Not me.”

“Oh
Jo..sweetheart.” Jean reached over her, hugging her against her
lap.

The policewoman
closed her eyes, exhaling. “Accidents like that always remind me of
my Dad.”

Jean hadn’t
released her, still hugging her, rubbing soothing circles. “I’m
here Jo. Anything you need.”

“I know. Thank
you.”

The blonde went
to move and Jean let her go. Jo sat up, resting her head against
Jean’s neck. The blonde extended a lean wrist, a glance at her
watch, a little past eleven thirty.

“You’re staying
tonight right? I don’t want you driving home.” Grey eyes flitted
over her.

Jean ran her
fingertips over Jo’s cheek in a slow caress. “Of course. Brought a
change of clothes with me. I’m here as long as you want me.”

“Good.” The
blonde yawned softly.

They made their
way down the carpeted hall, Jo lingered behind her, locking up and
turning off lights. Jean opened the door to Jo’s bedroom. She’d
never slept here before, Jo preferred to stay with her. Likely
because the house held too many memories.

The walls were
the colour of spun cotton, with a suede feature colour behind the
bed, a deep almost burgundy red. The bed itself was a modern
construction, black straight metal and square lines. A tan coloured
quilt accented with white trim, puffy looking pillows. Various
knick knacks around the room. This area seemed the most reflective
of the tall woman’s personality, likely where she spent most of her
time. The house seemed only to be a place to sleep and feed her
child more or less. Not a home.

Jo padded
softly into the room, closing the door behind her. She had checked
on her daughter down the hall.

The policewoman
slipped out of her t-shirt, a white bra underneath. “Would you like
first shower?”

Jean shook her
head. “No, you first, I’ll wait my turn.”

“OK.” Jo
pressed a little kiss to her lips before turning and walking into
the en suite bathroom. Through the door as it closed Jean could see
dark grey tiles and white towels, a white vanity and vitamins on
the shelf. The door closed with a soft snick, followed by the sound
of water running.

The gardener
sat down on the edge of the bed, tugging off her shoes. She placed
them neatly to the side. A photograph of a younger Jo caught her
eye on the bedside table. An adolescent blonde girl standing beside
an older man and woman. Jo looked so much like her mother, the same
straight blonde hair and angular cheekbones, already tall for her
age. Her father looked more like the jovial sort. Short brown hair
and lips pulled into a kind grin, a slightly podgy belly and
glasses.

Her thoughts
were interrupted by the faint sound from the bathroom. Her brows
creased as she listened. She could barely hear it, Jean stood up,
her instincts yelling at her to investigate.

Soft huffed
sounds of sobbing as she opened the door. The shower was in the
corner, a clear glass screen with a vertical chrome handle. Jo had
her back to her, quivering as her hand raked through her hair. Jean
noticed she did that as a sign of stress sometimes. Water running
down her long form and onto the tiled recess. The glass mostly
fogged from the steam.

As she was
about to knock on the glass the blonde turned to her, startled a
moment at seeing her suddenly there. Jean mouthed a question,
asking if she was all right. Jo nodded, and after a moment, made a
beckoning movement with her hand.

The company
shirt came off first, followed by her bra. Jo stood in the shower,
one arm braced against the wall, washing her face. The jeans
slipped off next, followed by her underwear. The brunette pulled
open the shower door and stood behind her. The water misting over
her as it fell from the showerhead.

Jo turned,
standing aside and letting her under the stream. The water blasted
her short hair back onto her face, pressing the dark chocolate
pixie flat against her scalp. Jean felt an arm reach around her,
grabbing the shower wash bottle. A sudden waft of mandarin and
sandalwood as large hands smoothed the gel over her back, massaging
it into her neck and shoulders. For a moment she was lost in the
touch, before turning around. She reached up, stroking Jo’s face.
The blonde looked tired and upset. She had retreated to the shower
to cry, not knowing Jean would hear.

The caress
became a slow kiss. If it were possible, Jo looked even lovelier
glossy and wet, her mane slick from the water. Jean hugged her
gently, still worried, soft kisses over her ear and cheek.

She washed
Joanne’s hair carefully, running her fingertips through it to
separate the strands. Suds pooling down her arm. A gentle kiss at
the nape of Jo’s neck. The blonde’s head tipped to give her access.
The soapy liquid running down along her spine, sliding over her
curvy behind and long legs. Jean’s breasts brushed against her as
she moved. Her movements were stopped as Joanne turned, wrapping
her long arms around her in a hug with a sigh. Resting her head on
the column between Jean’s neck and shoulder. Staying still like
that a moment while the world spun around her. Jean squeezed her
back, a kiss over her ear. Their skin warm and flushed from the
heat.

She held the
door open for her taller lover. The blonde stepped over the recess,
a quick swipe to push the hair off her face. The texture of the
fluffy towel rubbed over her body took her by surprise. Jean was
drying her off with a look of concentration. It made a blonde brow
raise. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. She took the
towel from Jean to rub down her own long hair, it could become
untamed with the water. She watched Jean towel herself off. Dabbing
the water off between her firm breasts and flat stomach. Bending as
the towel wicked the water from her legs, running the cloth over
her olive skin in long straight lines. It had been enough to
distract her from her thoughts. She had to smile when the chocolate
hair mussed into a spiky turret. Jean just smiled a rakish grin,
with a roll of her eyes and scruffed it with her hand back to it’s
usual choppy appearance.

They lay under
the cool sheets, the scent of Jo’s perfume lingering on them from
when she’d last slept. Jean rested her head on the bare shoulder
nearby. They both decided pyjamas were pointless. Her companion had
relaxed, at least enough to sleep, Jean moved to her side against
Jo’s warm ribs, leaning over to kiss her good night. She quickly
found a hand threading through her hair, the other sliding down her
back. Soft lips parting, and a tongue seeking entry. They kissed
for what felt like hours, a press of warm skin as they held each
other.

A last little
kiss on Jo’s neck and the blonde yawned softly. She drifted off
with Jean’s even breaths against her back.

***

The grating
sound of screeching wheels and busting glass. The artificial hiss
of monitors and regulators. Blood sticky all over the road. Jo
looked down at her hands. Thick scuffed gloves and long sleeves.
She saw her footsteps draw closer to the mangled wreck. They were
calling to her, yelling for her to come quickly, fire fighters
tugging against the folded metal. Painful squeals from inside the
car, followed by sobs and crying. Her long legs took her there just
as a little hand slapped up bloodied against the cracked glass. She
recoiled, the blue eyes of her daughter looking back, her hair
matted, clothing torn, laying broken on the twisted back seat. Jo
yelped, smashing on the glass, throwing her weight against the
mangled door. Her hands were bare now, cut open by the shards but
she didn’t care. Frantic to get to her, fingers hopelessly
scratching steel, screaming at them to help her, help her!

Then hands were
tugging at her, pulling her away, wrapped around her ribs. She
fought out of their grip, teeth gritted, wrestling against the
confinement. The sound seemed to rise up out of the road.

“..Jo?”

“Jo honey, wake
up?”

She became
foggily aware of where she was, arms moving, body thrashing. A last
wrench and was free, sitting bolt upright, ragged breaths and wild
eyes. It was still dark.

“Jo. You’re all
right. You were having a nightmare. It’s OK. It’s OK..” The sleepy
voice was soothing by her side.

The blonde was
still trembling when Jean wrapped her arms around her. Jo cupped
her own face in her hands.

“Annabelle?”
Asked the policewoman groggily.

Jean rested her
chin on her shoulder, yawning softly. “She’s probably still
asleep.”

Jo swung her
legs over the side and stood, leaving the embrace, finding her
dressing gown in the closet and pulling it around herself. She
opened the bedroom door and headed down the hall.

A minute later
the tall woman returned to bed, slipping in under the quilt with a
relieved exhale.

Jean’s voice
beside her ear in the dark. “Still where you left her?”

Jo sighed
softly. “Yes. She’s fine.” She had watched Annabelle sleep,
crouching by her bed as the child dreamt. A light stroke of her
soft hair before turning off the orange mushroom night light. She
just needed to see her, to know she was all right.

“Good. And what
about you?” Jean’s voice a murmur of concern.

“I will be.”
She cupped Jean’s face in her hand and kissed her lightly on the
lips. A tanned arm wound around her waist. For a moment Joanne just
lay there looking at her. Her companion’s shape barely visible.

Jean reached
out to touch her silky shoulder, her eyes already feeling heavy.
“Sure you’re OK?”

“I am. I’m
just..thank you, for being here with me. I’ve always found it
easier alone, but with you...”

Her hand slid
down Jo’s long arm. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

The grey eyes
regarded her, a flicker of vulnerability passing over her face in
the half light. “No. I suppose not.” Jo moved in the sheets,
pressing her lips against her lover’s, feeling Jean’s breathing
hitch under her hand. The gardener looked up at her from her back,
having found herself covered in warm silky blonde. The policewoman
stroked her cheek with a fingertip, before kissing her again. Her
lover’s hands travelling over her chest, her shoulders. Sliding off
the satiny garment in a short tug of war as their lips locked. A
sudden weight of Jo’s breasts, the warmth of her bare stomach.
Tanned hands meandered down, a palm resting on the smooth curve of
Jo’s buttock.

Jean’s hips
shifted beneath hers. Joanne ran her hand along a toned thigh,
sliding up and over her lover’s well formed calf. Naked, the
brunette’s soft curves and well proportioned body looked far more
feminine.

Hushed
whispered sounds of their lips meeting, Jo’s breathing soft over
her lover’s face. With the faintest contrast of light and shade,
Jean could see a ghost of a smile. She traced the contentment with
a single fingertip.

“Feeling
better?”

A nod in the
darkness, Joanne’s voice smoky with sleeplessness. “I’m getting
there.” Her lips trailed an answer of lazy kisses along her older
lover’s neck. Jean fit so well in her arms. Usually, she found
herself being held, taken care of. The older woman’s personality
favoured it that way.

Joanne smiled,
Jean’s quiet sighs making her feel fearless. Soft broken murmurs
suspended in the dark. Jo’s lips trailed lower, the sheet creasing,
moving over her back. Tender presses over the olive skin of her
companion’s chest. Light catching, tracing the rounded curve of a
chin. Her hand stroking Jean’s thigh, her stomach, her hip. 

Once
the wall in Jo’s mind had crumbled, she found herself exploring.
Her greatest obstacle hadn’t been Jean’s breasts, or feminine
curves. Instead, that scared little voice inside had almost stopped
her from finding something beautiful. From knowing, from feeling.
Nights awake worried and confused. But right now, feeling Jean gasp
against her throat as her touch became more intimate, was
wonderful. Jo watched her between kisses, still pleasantly
surprised that her attentions were well received.