Finding Ms. Write Read online

  “Safety in numbers,” Pat remarked.

  “That too. It’s always good to have some guys with you just in case some asshole doesn’t understand what ‘no’ means. That’s my exit.” Jen pointed ahead.

  Pat slowed the car as they neared the exit to Belington.

  “Does that happen a lot?” she asked, getting back to their earlier conversation.

  Jen sighed. “Sometimes. It’s usually drunk frat boys. I don’t like frat parties. I prefer a club or a party at some venue. Even sororities are okay. Though sometimes girls can be assholes too.”

  Pat snorted. “Tell me about it.”

  “I sure could,” Jen said, the grin back on her face.

  Pat once again cleared her throat and scratched her head. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she had an inkling that Jen was flirting with her. Just a little.

  “Sooo,” Pat drew out. “You’re into girls?” She bit her lip, not sure if the question was appropriate. Would Jen be insulted? She hadn’t reacted much to Pat telling her about her ex, but she never knew, especially with strangers.

  “And how.”

  Pat turned to look at her, but Jen had turned toward the window. She was pointing out something. “This is where I went to elementary school.”

  Pat looked at the red brick structure.

  “Turn here,” Jen said, and they rounded the building, a playground coming into view behind it.

  “That’s where I first kissed a boy,” Jen supplied. “And a girl.”

  Pat had to laugh. “Early bloomer?”

  “Not really. I mean, I did go out with boys until senior year. That was when I stopped lying to myself that anything sexual could ever happen between me and a guy. You a lesbian? Or bi?”

  “Lesbian, but it took me a while longer to come out. I was already twenty-seven.”

  “Ever married? To a guy, I mean?” Jen asked.

  “Fortunately not, though I was with a guy for six…seven years before I came out. That was not easy.”

  “I bet.”

  Silence once again filled the small space of Pat’s car. She turned another corner at Jen’s behest. It was her destination. A cul-de-sac.

  Jen pointed at a house on the left. “That’s where I live. Drive all the way to the end. You can turn there.”

  Pat nodded, and a minute later, she stopped the car in front of a purple house. “It looks cozy.”

  “It’s home,” Jen said. “I really appreciate you going out of your way like this, you know?”

  “Actually, I enjoyed the company. Road trips are only half as fun as they look in movies.”

  Jen smiled.

  Pat lost herself in her eyes for a moment. Jen was a pretty girl…a beautiful young woman, really.

  “Well, I hope it won’t get too boring for you on your trip.”

  “When it does, I’ll just stop for the next lost young woman on the way,” Pat joked.

  “You say I’m so easily replaced?”

  “No, I didn’t—”

  “Relax, Pat. It was a joke.” Jen touched her arm, smiling.

  A spark ran through Pat, and it made the little hairs on her arms stand up. “Well,” she said, but it was hardly audible. She cleared her throat.

  “You want to get back on the road. In the name of my mom and my own, thank you for bringing me home safely. My mom hates when I hitchhike.”

  “I can believe that, but I guess there was no other choice this time. Except for walking.”

  Jen nodded. “I wouldn’t have gotten into the car with a guy. I’m not an idiot.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Would you give me your number?” Jen asked quietly, looking at her hands folded in her lap.

  At first, Pat thought she’d heard wrong, but then Jen looked up again. Their eyes met, and there was that spark again. Pat nodded before she even knew what she was doing.

  Jen pulled her phone from her pocket.

  Pat took hers from the dash, and they synched their phones quickly.

  Jen took a picture of Pat.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured as she clicked a few buttons. She lifted the flap from her backpack and put it inside.

  Pat happened to look down at that moment and caught sight of a book inside the backpack. Her eyes widened, and Jen chuckled.

  “Ah, yes. I should’ve said…” Jen pulled the book from the bag and turned it so that Pat could see her own face smiling back at her. “Love your book.” She leaned over, kissed Pat, and then opened the door and got out. “Thanks again for the ride,” she said, leaning into the car.

  “You’re welcome,” Pat said, still slightly stumped. Then she smiled.

  Jen closed the door and walked toward the house. She turned and waved.

  Waving back, Pat put her car in drive and left Jen behind. She looked back in the rearview mirror to watch Jen walk up the stairs to the front door. Another sigh escaped her.

  Pat sat in a truck stop diner, smiling up at the waitress as she refilled her cup. “Thank you.” A familiar ringtone disrupted the customary noises of chatter and cutlery on plates. “Sorry,” she said to no one in particular. The waitress had already left her table for the next customer. She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the display.

  It was Jen.

  Pat smiled.

  “Hi,” she answered the call.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Well, I’m at a truck stop about two hours from your home.”

  Jen laughed, and Pat decided she liked the sound.

  “Well, yeah, you might think I was already missing you, but I’m actually calling with a message from my mom.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, indeed. She wanted to say thanks and ask if you’d like to stop by on your way home. She’d like to cook you a thank-you meal.”

  “Please tell your mom that it was my pleasure. No thank-you meal required.”

  “Does that mean you’re not coming by on your way back?” Jen sounded disappointed.

  “That wasn’t what I meant. I’d love to…come by, to see you again.”

  “Phew, you almost got me worried there for a second. I was wondering if I should be apologizing for kissing you. I mean, we had this elaborate discussion in our sexuality class about consent, and I feel kinda guilty for not asking permission.”

  Pat cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t want you to think it’s okay to just kiss people, but I think there are moments when the permission is given…non-verbally, like…”

  “You could just say that you liked it,” Jen said.

  Pat could hear the smile in Jen’s voice and had to laugh at how flustered she was. She usually wasn’t this complicated. “I did like it, Jen. I liked it a lot. I’m just a little worried because you’re so much younger than I am.”

  “I didn’t ask you to marry me, Pat. I just like you and thought that you liked me too. And maybe we can get to know each other a little better. So what if I’m younger? I know when I like someone.”

  “Yeah, you sure do. And you’re right about me liking you back.”

  They were quiet for a while. Pat took a sip of her coffee, savoring the taste.

  “How is your soul searching coming along?” Jen finally asked.

  “Soul searching? I thought of it more as a recharging of empty batteries.”

  “So, how is that coming along?”

  Pat rubbed her cheek. “Not sure. I had a thought earlier. You said I’m putting too much pressure on myself. I think maybe you’re right. When I started this series, I wanted it to be fun. I guess I kind of lost the fun between deadlines and interviews and what-nots.”

  “Is this about the Blue Troop series?”

  Pat hesita
ted. She’d tried so hard not to let herself get influenced by the opinions of others. Since Jen was obviously familiar with her work, it didn’t seem fair to let her have a say when so many didn’t. She didn’t even listen to her sister. Then again, her sister always just said her books needed more sex. What she meant was hetero sex, of course.

  “It is, but I’m not really comfortable discussing my works in progress.”

  “Oh.” Again, Jen sounded disappointed. “Well, that’s okay—”

  “You know, screw that. I’m actually at a point where it can’t get any worse, even if you tell me to put more sex in it.”

  “Why would I say that?”

  “That’s what my sister always says.”

  “I see. Well, I was actually thinking of introducing a new character. Your characters are such a tight, well-oiled group of people. Why not disrupt the chemistry a little by bringing in someone new? And queer. I need a queer character in that series. It’s the only thing missing from making it perfect. It would also be nice if that character had sex at some point, but no pressure.”

  Pat had to laugh, but only for a moment. “A new character,” she mused.

  “You like the idea?” Jen asked.

  “Hmmm.” Pat took a notebook from her pocket. She went over some notes for the book, notes she’d made when the series was still a distant dream.

  “Pat?” Jen pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Oh, sorry, I was just looking at some notes. I guess I could introduce someone new. It wouldn’t interfere with the plot points, but would definitely add some tension.”

  “Well, it sounds like you have something to think about on your trip, then. And if that doesn’t work, I have about half a gazillion other ideas, so just call me when you’re stuck?”

  “I may actually do that,” Pat said, thoughtfully.

  “Even though you don’t want to.” Jen guessed at her hesitation.

  “Well, writing is my job. I should be able to figure out my own stories without help, shouldn’t I?”

  “Maybe you’re just too close at the moment. Or too stressed. It’s not like I want a piece of your cake. I would be satisfied to be mentioned in the acknowledgments.”

  This made Pat smile again. “You definitely earned that already. Thank you.”

  “Will you call me? I mean, even if you don’t want or need my input?”

  Pat wondered at this for a long moment. Her rational mind told her that Jen was too young, that it would never work between them. But the tingling sensation in her lips reminded her of the almost chaste kiss Jen had pressed to her lips. The tingling spread, and Pat took a deep breath. “I’ll call.”

  “That’s a promise, right?”

  “It is.”

  “Good. I’ll let you get back to your trip or notes or food. Whatever you’re doing.”

  “Thanks for calling. And tell your mom I’d be happy to come by on my way back and have dinner with you both and… Is there anyone else?”

  “Just my cat, Dumbledore. My brother is camping with friends during the break.”

  “Then I’m looking forward to meeting your mom and Dumbledore.”

  “Okay.”

  Another moment of silence followed. It bound Pat to her promise and made her realize that she wanted to drive back to Belington right now. But she wouldn’t. She needed time to figure out her work problem. She needed time to herself before she could invest the time to get to know someone else.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” she finally said.

  “Drive carefully.”

  “Will do. Bye, Jen.”

  “Bye, Pat.”

  ORPHANS’ CHRISTMAS

  BY KATHY BRODLAND

  I sat in my car for a good five minutes, trying to summon the courage to get out and go up the stairs to the brightly decorated house a few yards away. Did I really want to be the oldest “orphan” at Clare’s annual Christmas party just because she was my favorite beta reader? She’d made it quite clear that if I didn’t show up, she’d send her wife to get me. I’d never met Barb, but I’d seen pictures of her. A retired firefighter, she wasn’t somebody I wanted to argue with.

  Even my sister had gotten involved. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Edie! Go have some fun for a change. Who knows, you might even meet someone!”

  That was all very well for her to say. She lived on the other side of the country with a husband and two kids. She wasn’t a sixty-something who’d been on her own for three years.

  I huffed and finally decided to get my act together. I fished my folding cane from the passenger seat and gathered up the bag holding the veggie platter and the unwrapped gift I had been instructed to bring.

  Someone—probably Barb—had shoveled the steps leading up to the house, and I made it to the sidewalk without falling on my ass. As I walked, my cane poked little round holes in the snow. From the sound of it, the party was well underway. Warm light blazed from the downstairs windows. Laughter and Christmas carols wafted out on the crisp cold air.

  The unmistakable crunch of feet against fresh snow sounded to my left. A woman in a black hoodie was heading my way at a brisk trot. Given that she carried a bag similar to mine, she was probably on her way to the party as well.

  I waited at the foot of the steps for her to catch up with me. At least I wouldn’t have to brave the crowd on my own.

  “Hi there,” she said, her voice a pleasant alto. She glanced at my cane. “Do you need a hand there?”

  “Thanks, I’m fine. Just catching my breath after making it this far.” I waved my cane in the general direction of my red Mazda parked two cars down.

  “Well, fear not, fair maiden, I shall endeavor to deliver you unharmed to the castle gates.” She whisked my bag away and linked a sturdy arm through mine. “Shall we?”

  I tried not to grin as I cast her a sidelong glance.

  She smiled back, keen blue eyes sparkling. “Almost made you laugh, didn’t I? You were looking a bit lost standing there about to turn into a snowman.”

  By now, we’d reached the front door. A huge wreath decorated with red berries, pine cones, and a big silver bow obscured most of the frosted window. The other woman pushed the doorbell. Seconds later, the door swung open.

  “Hey, Clare! Edie and Frankie are here.” The large individual looming in the doorway had to be Barb. She waved us into the foyer. My coat was whisked away to a closet; my boots ended up on a large rubber tray along with an assortment of other footgear.

  Frankie handed over our parcels, and Barb rumbled, “Thanks. Clare is in the kitchen, making like a domestic goddess. Venture in there at your peril.”

  “I heard that!”

  I peered around Barb’s girth to see the goddess in question in a wheelchair heading in our direction.

  “Edie!” Clare squealed. “You made it.”

  When I bent down to hug my friend, she pecked my cheek. I stood back and peered down at the bright, cheery face looking back up at me. Her black curly hair bounced in all directions. I had seen photos of Clare on Facebook, of course, but meeting the woman I had come to think of as strong and confident was a treat. The accident that had left her confined to a wheelchair did nothing to diminish her vibrant spirit.

  She waved in the general direction of the living room. “Go make yourselves comfortable. If there aren’t enough chairs, let Barb know. She can rustle up a couple more for you. I’ll swing by and chat later. Right now I have a turkey that needs to be dealt with.” She took my hand. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  She gave Frankie a poke in the ribs. “You take good care of this lady. She’s very special.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that will be a hardship.” Frankie came around to my left side, away from my cane, and took my arm again. “Shall we?
”

  I was still trying to decide if she was always this protective when I found myself facing a room full of women, all looking at me. It wasn’t until most of them glanced away that I finally remembered to breathe. Apparently, they weren’t overly interested in the elderly gray-haired woman who had just appeared in their midst. Only the redhead in the far corner of the room seemed to take more than a passing interest. By the time I found a chair, she’d shifted her focus to Frankie. What caught my eye, though, was an enormous tree decorated from top to bottom with shimmering red and gold ornaments.

  Frankie touched my shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I hesitated. All this attention was a bit unnerving.

  Frankie’s smile was a bit lopsided. “I’m under orders from her highness to take good care of you.”

  “Thanks. A Diet Coke would be great.”

  “Consider it done.”

  While she was off on that errand, I got myself settled and took a surreptitious glance around. There were about a dozen women, and much to my delight, at least half of them were well into their fifties, maybe even a little older. One or two smiled my way.

  Frankie returned and handed me an ice-cold can of Diet Coke and a paper napkin. She sat next to me, popped open a can of her own, and took a sip. “I have been informed that dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I don’t wish to assume anything, but will you need help getting around in the dining room?”

  I pictured myself juggling my cane and plates of food. “Yes, I think I will.”

  “Okay, well, there’s a little bit of everything there.” She rattled off a list of the foods.

  “The baked salmon sounds good. And a salad would be nice as well.”

  “Okay. As soon as Clare announces dinner, I’ll get something for you.”

  “Thanks. Oh, I was wondering about something. Clare’s in a wheelchair, but there is no ramp at the front. How on earth does she manage?”

  “Oh, Barb put in a ramp between the kitchen and the garage not long after Clare’s accident. I think there was some talk about selling the place and moving to somewhere that was all on one level. But they love this house, so they finally decided to stay here and renovate.”