"Then, when I got old enough, I was given a tour of the best boarding schools in the world. Again always being transferred when I began making friends and getting attached to teachers or some other adult. If I spoke of anyone too often, I’d soon be leaving one school for another. My Mother said it was so I would have a well rounded education."
Harper hands me my iced tea and I take a sip to wet my now very dry mouth.
"I was always brought home for the major holidays. This was so I could be shown off to all their friends and business associates. Then, while they had a wonderful time at their dinner parties, I was taken to my room where I would have dinner, watching TV or maybe reading a book. Always by myself. That’s how I’ve always spent Thanksgiving. Movies and popcorn aren’t new to me."
"Oh God, Kels." She gets up and joins me on the swing, her arms sliding around me, pulling me tight against her chest.
The tears come again. I begin sniffing to try to get myself under control. I feel safer with her arms around me. It’s easier to talk. "Christmas time was always my favorite though," I offer with a slight smile.
"Christmas was better?" her voice is low in my ear.
I give a little nod. I let the tears fall unabated against her shirt as I remember the one person who made Christmas special for me. "On Christmas Eve, when they were at their dinner party, I would sneak down to the kitchen. Martha, our cook, always baked Christmas cookies just for me. They’d be in the shape of toy soldiers and ballerinas.
"We would eat them together and drink great big glasses of fresh milk. I wasn’t allowed whole milk as a child. Mother said it would make me fat, but, on Christmas, I always got hot cookies and cold milk. Martha and I would talk until the party started to break up. Then she would take me back upstairs and tuck me in with a kiss. She always left me with a little present for Christmas morning, too. It was always the first one I opened, and the only one I ever kept. I never told my parents because I knew if I did, they’d get rid her. I didn’t want to lose the only person who seemed to care about me."
When I look up at Harper, there are tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Oh God, Harper, I’m sorry." I wipe them away. "I am so sorry. I’m ruining your holiday with this."
"No," she says forcefully. "No, you’re not. You are actually reminding me of how much I do have to be thankful for."
"Imagine that. Me, helping you, during the holidays."
"And, Kels," she whispers, staring at me intensely.
"What?" I breathe, taking in the scent of her, my emotions all in a whirl.
"You now have someone else who cares for you. Both on the holidays and off."
And then she kisses me. I’m surprised, but oh so very happy with this turn of events. God, it feels so right. Her lips are soft and moving against mine. It’s not demanding, but it’s certainly not just a friendly kiss.
I feel my arms move around her shoulders of their own volition. And when one of her hands cups my neck and pulls me even closer, I almost forget what we’ve been talking about for the last few minutes.
We break for air, but don’t move very far from one another. I can still taste her on my lips, mingled with the salt of my tears, and I want more of her.
Just as I am about to go back for a second helping, we hear Danielle’s voice from the open doorway. "Grandmaman! Tante Harper is kissing her girlfriend on the porch swing!"
Just when I was beginning to like kids.
<fade out>
Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:
<voiceover>
Not all relationships are easy. Some start off on the wrong foot.
<cut to>
"I hear she’s a bitch on wheels," Conrad speaks up. "The whole news room hates to work with her. They fight over who has to do her stories and promos. The makeup lady dreads that part of her day."
"Yeah," Jimmy agrees. "I hear the same. Why did we have to get the bitch, Harper? That Samantha woman seems like a better bet."
"Every team needs a problem child." I shrug. "And we all know it ain’t one of us," I drawl softly, pleased with myself. It isn’t until that moment that I turn around to face the room.
Wouldn’t you know Kelsey Stanton is standing in the doorway? Her expression is frozen, her green eyes shuttered. She’s a woman used to hiding her emotions.
"Speak of the devil," I say to let the boys know she’s there.
<voiceover>
And stay there.
<cut to>
"Then it wasn’t making love, Harper. It was sex." I lean back in my chair and set my tea cup down. I hate how composed she looks. How it seems like none of this matters to her. I want her to feel as badly as I do. "You know sex. You’ve had lots of it."
Puzzled blue eyes meet mine. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Harper, the first time I laid eyes on you, you were practically fucking a woman on the seat of your motorcycle."
<voiceover>
But, sometimes, things do get better.
<cut to>
"Come here," I say, even as I take her into my arms. She hugs me readily. Our boundaries are forgotten in the midst of crisis, as per standard operating procedure with us. I enfold her in a strong embrace, rocking her gently, whispering calming words.
<voiceover>
And better.
<cut to>
And then she kisses me. I’m surprised, but oh so very happy with this turn of events. God, it feels so right. Her lips are soft and moving against mine. It’s not demanding, but it’s certainly not just a friendly kiss.
I feel my arms move around her shoulders of their own volition. And when one of her hands cups my neck and pulls me even closer, I almost forget what we’ve been talking about for the last few minutes.
We break for air, but don’t move very far from one another. I can still taste her on my lips, mingled with the salt of my tears, and I want more of her.
<voiceover>
How much better could it get?
<fade out>
Episode Seventeen: Anticipation
I tighten my robe around me and roll my shoulders before entering the kitchen. I know Cécile will be in here. I could barely look at her last night after Danielle announced what Harper and I were doing on the porch.
What exactly were we doing?
I mean, besides kissing.
I was crying, she was trying to stop me, our lips got in the way. Right? That’s all there was.
Except it felt so damn good.
I could be in trouble here.
"Bonjour, chér," Mama greets me with a smile, looking up from her coffee. "Why you awake so early?" She gets up and moves to the stove to turn the burner on under the tea kettle.
"Restless, I guess." I take a seat at the breakfast table and smooth out the place mat in front of me so I’ll have something to do with my hands.
"Tch tch, what could get you that worked up?" she teases, dropping a tea bag in a mug. She seems to enjoy watching the blush spread over my features.
"Uh … I …" I wish I could crawl back into bed right now.
"Please, ma petite, don’t look so red. I must know something about that. I do have five children, you know." Mama goes to the refrigerator and begins pulling out breakfast fixings. "And I have heard she knows what she’s doing."
I moan and drop my forehead against the breakfast table.
Mama laughs. "If it makes you feel any better, she’s up already too." I hear her crack an egg against a bowl rim. "Went out for a run. Said she had excess energy to burn off."
I must be in hell.
The tea kettle whistles. The woman I once regarded as sweet pours me a cup and brings it over to me, along with the jar of honey. She brushes a lock of my hair back behind my ear, then moves away again.