The Game of Denial (24 page)

"I can go if it's too late."

"No, it's fine. Can I get you a drink?"

"Water is fine," Joan answered, unbuttoning her leather jacket. She looked at Monica before removing it. "May I?"

"Certainly. Just toss it on a chair," Monica said as she left to retrieve a bottle of water. She returned a moment later and handed it to her guest. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" she asked, slipping her hands into the pockets of her lounging pants.

Joan took a drink and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry it's so late, but I felt the need to apologize for our last meeting. Insulting and apologizing to beautiful women seems to be my specialty these days."

Monica looked down for a moment. "It was nice to be needed, even for a few hours."

"You were so beautiful. I got carried away, but didn't mean to insult you."

Monica laughed. "Let's sit down. It's been a long day and my feet are killing me."

Joan followed her to the sofa in the main living area and sat down. Monica sat next to the arm of the sofa and drew her feet under her. She rested an arm on the back and propped her head on her hand, looking at Joan with a smile. "Why are you really here, Joan?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Joan answered.

Monica puffed her cheeks out and expelled a loud breath. "I should have given you what you needed that night," she said.

"And what was that?"

"I've never seen anyone who needed to be touched so much," Monica answered.

"I'm sorry I was so obvious."

"It broke my heart to turn you away, but I wanted more." Monica reached out and took Joan's hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss it lightly. "I still do."

"Monica, I can't promise you--"

"Martine was my friend, Joan. We talked about you many times. She was so in love with you and so gloriously happy. I have to admit I was jealous. I've never had that with anyone." She grinned. "And believe me, honey, it wasn't from lack of trying."

Joan smiled. "You have a lot to offer anyone with the brains to acknowledge it. Which makes me seem a little retarded."

Monica took another deep breath. "Maybe I wanted to replace Martine in your life, but no one will ever be able to do that. I know that. Maybe I wanted you to see something special in me. I'm not Martine, but I might have been a suitable substitute."

"No one should ever have to believe they're nothing more than a substitute. It would be a horrible way to see yourself."

"Your memories of Martine will always be there, lurking."

Joan looked at Monica. "Memories have their place, but even they fade."

"Are you afraid they'll eventually fade away, cease to exist?"

"I don't know anymore," Joan answered softly. She glanced at Monica before speaking again. "I know you and Martine were friends." She smiled. "I think I was always jealous that Martine had someone as a confidante, someone she could talk to when she needed it. I've never had that. I'm sure Martine spoke to you after we had arguments. God knows I was never perfect, but for some reason I never figured out, she loved me."

"And you worshipped her," Monica said.

"Yes, I did. Did you know there was never another woman in my life?" Joan shrugged. "I mean, I had slept around a little, but Martine was the only woman who ever took the time to make me appreciate another woman's body." Joan laughed. "I'm sure my previous partners still cringe at how crudely I behaved."

Monica lowered her hand and hesitated before resting it on the back of Joan's neck, slowly massaging along her hairline. "You should stay here tonight," she said. She leaned close to Joan's ear and whispered, "Come with me." She stood and took Joan's hand. When Joan looked up at her Monica saw tears hovering at the edges of her eyelids. "It'll be all right, baby. I promise."

Joan waited as Monica turned the lights off and then followed her down the hallway. Monica opened the door to her guest bedroom. "I'm sure I have something you can sleep in," she said as she flipped on the light switch. Monica stopped and turned to face her. Joan brought her hands up to caress Monica's face. Monica inhaled a slow deep breath as she ran her hands up Joan's arms.

"Please touch me," Joan said as she pulled the auburn-haired beauty closer and found her lips. Gentle kisses soon turned into passionate demands as Joan's fingers raked into Monica's hair. Without breaking their connection, Joan unzipped Monica's soft top and pushed it over her shoulders. Tears rolled down her face as she lowered her mouth to the creamy temptation beneath. She released the front clasp of Monica's lacy brassiere to expose full breasts and rosy nipples that were already hardened. She pressed her mouth over one nipple and sucked it into her mouth, feeling the quick intake of Monica's breath.

"Tell me what you want," Monica said as she brought Joan's mouth up to meet hers again. "I'll give you anything you need."

"I want you to touch me," Joan said as she held Monica in her arms.

Joan riveted her eyes on Monica's as she removed her shirt. Her abdomen tightened as Monica unzipped and pushed her slacks over her hips. After what seemed like a flurry of touching and kissing, Joan fought to control herself as Monica led her to the bed.

JOAN DIDN'T KNOW what time it was when bright light finally penetrated her eyelids. She didn't really care as she felt her skin touch the warm body curled against her. She tightened her arm to draw the warmth closer and buried her face in the sweet smell of soft hair and inhaled deeply. She groaned as the body rolled over and soft breasts pressed into her own. Her hand floated lightly down the curve of a full hip and lips touched hers.

"Don't open your eyes yet," a sleepy voice whispered.

"Why?" Joan asked as her lips formed into a smile.

"So I can be who you want a little longer."

Even though Joan's eyes were still closed, they flinched into a blink. The dream was over. Martine had come to her to say goodbye for the last time. The tenderness between Joan's legs confirmed that. She brought her hand up until it found its way into the fullness of the hair beside her. She buried her face in its softness and ached because she was alone again.

Joan showered quickly and dressed before wandering out of the bedroom to find Monica. She was in the kitchen, one foot crossed in front of the other, drinking from a cup. "I hope you saved one of those for me," she said as she ran her hands around the supple waist.

"Not even I'm cruel enough to deny morning coffee to someone, even if it is after lunch," Monica said. She turned and Joan kissed her tenderly. "I've even managed to prepare brunch, if you're hungry."

"Starving," Joan said. She took Monica in her arms and gave her a lingering kiss. "Someone made me very hungry last night."

Monica ran a finger lightly over Joan's lips. "Good. Then have a seat."

Joan gratefully swallowed half the coffee while she waited for Monica to set two plates on the table. Joan took a bite of the quiche. "When did you have time to prepare a quiche?" she asked as she chewed.

"Wish I could take the credit, but my housekeeper, Esther, prepared it. All I had to do was re-heat it," Monica said. "Honestly, I suck at cooking."

Joan laughed. "But you're a great re-heater."

"We all have our talents."

They ate companionably for a few minutes before Joan pushed her empty plate away. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."

"How are you feeling?"

Joan finished off her coffee and set the cup down. "Free."

"Good," Monica responded, patting Joan's hand. She gazed at her, still remembering the passion and tenderness. Joan's release had been primal, but it hadn't been her name Joan cried out. She would never tell Joan and would do anything to convince Joan they belonged together. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"Fran's invited me to visit them for two or three days, but I haven't decided yet."

"It would be good for you to spend time with her without a jillion people around," Monica suggested.

"She's opening a small gallery in the town where they live."

"She's always wanted something of her own. I can't imagine her sitting around being the good little housewife."

Joan chuckled. "Neither can I. She wants some advice about inventory. She has a couple of ideas that are worth pursuing."

"Then fly down."

Joan looked at Monica as she finished her coffee. "Go with me."

"You don't owe me anything, Joan," Monica said.

Joan reached out and took Monica's hand. "I know that, but I'd really like to spend more time with you." She smiled and added, "Besides I haven't bought a thing for anyone yet and was hoping to convince you to go shopping with me this afternoon. I could use the advice." Joan cleared her throat.

"Shopping? Hmm," Monica said tapping the side of her head. "That's a tough one. Would I like to go shopping? Since it's my favorite sport, I think I could manage it."

"I knew I could count on you," Joan said.

"Baby, you can always count on me," Monica said.

Chapter Twenty-Four

JOAN WAVED AS she pulled her wool coat up on her neck and stepped into the door of the airplane. She drew Monica against her and kissed her lightly before she looked around for Fran.

"Have a wonderful Christmas, Ms. Carmichael, Ms. Ashford," Karina said when Joan took Monica's hand to lead her down the stairs to the tarmac.

"I'll see you in two or three days," Joan said. "There are gifts for you and your crew in the back of the passenger compartment. Enjoy the holiday."

Fran ran onto the tarmac to help Joan carry their luggage and Christmas packages to her waiting car. She paused long enough to hug the members of the crew as they came down the steps. Once they were settled in the car, Fran said, "You look relaxed."

"I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean you look, I don't know, happy."

Joan shrugged and smiled at Monica. "It just feels good to not have anything pressing on my mind for a change."

Fran glanced at the woman next to Joan. "It's nice to see you again, Monica."

"Thank you for allowing me to tag along." Monica wrapped her arm around Joan's possessively.

"I thought we'd take your things to the house and then go to the gallery."

"We have a reservation at the Claremont," Joan said. "But if you'll give us a few minutes to freshen up, we'll be glad to go with you."

"I'm curious what you'll think of it."

"Where's Brad?" Joan asked.

Fran rolled her eyes. "Setting up his office while there's not a hundred young co-eds staring at him like he was dessert."

"I thought he didn't start until sometime in January."

"He doesn't, but he's been acting as an assistant to the chairman of his department. Taking some of the overflow. Part of his job will be acting as a student advisor and Dr. Simmons has already assigned him several students. Fortunately, or unfortunately, most of the English majors are women. And many seem to be blatantly flirtatious and pathetically obvious. The department hosted a reception to introduce Brad to the rest of the faculty and graduate students about a week ago and a couple of the graduates flirted with him right in front of me. Like I wouldn't notice."

"Ah, the perils of being married to an attractive man," Joan sighed.

"Or woman," Fran said. "I saw you fume more than once when you thought someone was coming on to Mama."

"True. But I knew she would be going home with me," Joan said smugly.

"Martine was a very lucky woman," Monica interjected, rubbing her hand over Joan's thigh and patting it.

"Brad invited Evey and Tully for Christmas," Fran said. "Thought I should warn you."

"I don't need a warning, Fran. I enjoy his mother's company. I admit I'm not as comfortable around his homophobic brother, but will deal with it. Since we won't be staying at your house our contact with him should be minimal."

"Evey told us she saw you in New York."

"I invited them to dinner to be sociable. It seemed rude to know they were in town and ignore it. Do they know we'll be here?"

"Of course. I'm sure Evey's looking forward to seeing you again."

"That's debatable," Joan said as she looked at the passing trees from the passenger side window.

"When were they there, sweetie?" Monica asked.

Joan shrugged. "Couple of weeks ago, I think."

Monica frowned and readjusted her body, still gripping Joan's hand.

After riding several miles in silence, Fran looked at her mother in the rearview mirror. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Joan smiled and looked down at her hands. "That's usually my line." She took a deep breath and shifted her eyes toward Fran. "I'm fine, honey. Just a little tired and hungry."

"DO YOU REALLY need all this stuff for a two-day visit?" Tully fumed as he threw a suitcase into the back of the Suburban. "I don't know why Brad and Fran couldn't come to the farm for Christmas," he said. "It's not fair to expect Ralph to take care of the animals while you gallivant around."

"They have a new home and want to show it off," Evey replied calmly. "Two days away from the farm won't kill you. We'll celebrate Christmas with Ralph when we get back." She smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood and patted his back. "This way we get Christmas twice."

"I don't see you speeding off to visit Beth," he said.

"Your sister is working over the holiday. She said she'd try to come home for the New Year."

"Can't say I'm looking forward to seeing that fucking dyke again," Tully spat as he started the vehicle and rubbed his hands together to warm them.

"What are you talking about, Tully?"

"Fran's mother! The one that thinks she's a man. I heard her talking about her so-called wife the whole time she was at the farm. It made me sick," Tully said as he turned onto the main highway that would take them to Loganville.

Evey was so shocked by the disgust in Tully's voice that she almost caused him to lose control of the car when she swung her arm and slapped him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked loudly.