Intentions - SF9 (23 page)

Jamie noticed that Ryan's sleeves were rolled up, as usual, and she asked, "Is that why you always roll your shirt up, Love?"

"Yep. Haven't been able to find a shirt with sleeves long enough since…oh, I'd say sophomore year in high school."

Jordan and Mia had been watching this interplay and Jordan piped up, "I never wear shirts with long sleeves. I stick with sweaters."

"That's just not right," Jamie said. "Lots of women are as tall as you two."

"No, they aren't, Hon," Ryan laughed. "You're just hanging around the tallest of the tall. Manufacturers would go broke trying to make clothes to fit Jordan and me."

"Well, it's still not right," Jamie grumbled. "Big girls need to have their wrists and ankles covered, too."

"My champion," Ryan smiled after her partner as she grabbed the keys and made for the car.

The Sunday morning traffic was light, allowing them to make the journey to south central L.A. in a relatively short time. Jamie found one of the last parking spaces in the lot and trotted along behind Ryan, who was striding along the blacktop at full speed. They entered the church just as the previous service had concluded, and they found Bryant in the midst of setting up for the 10:30 Mass.

"Right on time, Ryan, Jamie," he said, a bright smile lighting up his face. Jamie hugged him and Ryan gave him a kiss and pitched in to help, expertly setting up the keyboard that Bryant had been working on. Since Jamie had no skills in this area, she secured seats for them in the front row right next to the choir, as Ryan suggested.

Various members of the choir entered, wearing long black robes with bright white trim. There was an enthusiasm and energy to the group that Jamie found infectious, and she sat watching patiently as Ryan finished with the organ and played a few bars to test the sound.

"Do you want me to accompany you, or do you want to play?" Bryant asked as he came up behind her.

"Either way," Ryan said, but then she reconsidered. "Actually, I think I'd rather accompany myself. Gives me something to do with my hands," she grinned.

"Okay by me," Bryant said. "Are you nervous?"

"No, not really. I don't get nervous when I sing. Never have." She laughed wryly and added, "My only problem is that I get too into the music sometimes, and I tend to cry during emotional songs. I hate that."

"Michael would have liked that," Bryant reminded her fondly, giving her a hug.

"Yeah, he sure would have," Ryan agreed. "He thought crying was as important as laughing."

"He'd have been proud of you, Ryan," the tall man said softly, "and very happy that you've found a partner."

"I know that he would have been happy that I've found love," Ryan agreed. "Come to think of it, he and I would be stepbrother and sister when Maeve and my father get married. Wouldn't he have gotten a kick out of that?"

"He would indeed," Bryant agreed. "Any idea of when the wedding will be? I'd love to come."

"Probably January," Ryan said. "As soon as we know the date, I'll let you know."

"Good deal. You all set here?"

"Yep. I'll see you after communion," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

When she settled into the pew next to Jamie, the smaller woman said, "What do you two have planned? This looks like more than a casual Sunday Mass."

"A little surprise," Ryan said with a smile. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

"You seem to know your way around that keyboard pretty well, Ms. O'Flaherty. Have you been holding out on me?"

"Nope. I play a little when I get the chance. I just don't own a keyboard, and I hate to borrow Rory's."

"Oooh, Christmas is coming," Jamie teased.

"And I don't want any presents," Ryan teased right back, tapping the tip of her partner's nose.

"Okay, Babe," Jamie said agreeably.
But your birthday comes before Christmas, and all bets are off then.

The church was full to bursting by 10:30, and the choir had quickly filled the available seats, spilling into the row with Jamie and Ryan. Bryant stood and welcomed the crowd, then began to play a soft tune on the keyboard as he urged everyone to join hands and prepare to hear the word of God.

The crowd fell into the obviously familiar routine, and as the music increased in volume the entire congregation began to sway to the slow beat as Bryant called on each part of the choir to join in, one at a time. The sopranos led off, followed by the altos, tenors, baritones and basses. The melody was simple, the words simpler still; each group adding to the previous, the sound building as more and more voices joined together. By the time the entire group was singing as one, Jamie felt a chill chase down her spine at the power and the enthusiasm that she felt rising up from the crowd. Everyone was singing-everyone was swaying to the gentle beat. As many times as she had attended services, she had never felt such an outpouring of feeling, and certainly not five minutes into the endeavor.

Now the voices continued to sing, but in a much quieter tone as Bryant called upon the Holy Spirit to enter their souls and make them receptive to the word of the Lord. He spoke simply, but so eloquently that Jamie found herself hanging on every word, closing her eyes as the sound of his warm, powerful voice merged perfectly with the choir.
Oooh…he is special. I can see why Ryan loves him.

When the crowd was fully receptive, the priest entered, coming up the main aisle, shaking hands and hugging as many people as he could get his arms around. When he reached the sanctuary, he gave a few welcoming remarks, then launched into the Mass, following the traditional lines that Jamie had grown used to at St. Phil's. Everything seemed as usual until the Offertory. At St. Phil's, they sang a quiet, traditional song as the congregation presented their financial gifts to the church. It was very orderly and very proper, and lasted just a few moments as well-practiced ushers passed baskets around the church in a precise pattern.

Here at St. Agatha's, however, a very different practice was followed. Bryant stood and invited everyone to share their bounty with the Lord, and as people stood, he launched the choir into a very spirited rendition of "Jesus on the Main Line."

Everyone joined in to sing, most people clapping and swaying to the rhythm.

Jesus on the main line, tell him what you want.
Jesus on the main line, tell him what you want.
Jesus on the main line, tell him what you want.
Call him up and tell him what you want.

Call him up…call him up…tell him what you want.
Call him up…call him up…tell him what you want.
Call him up…call him up…tell him what you want.
Call him up and tell him what you want.

It was certainly different from anything in Jamie's experience. The songs that were sung at her grandfather's church were considered modern if they were from the 19th century; and the music at St. Phil's, while more contemporary, never conveyed this much joy. At least half of the crowd left their seats, getting up to welcome friends and neighbors, greeting most with hugs and warm handshakes. Jamie and Ryan kept their seats, but Ryan was beaming greetings at everyone who ventured anywhere near her, her face so happy that Jamie felt her heart clench with emotion when she had a moment to spare a glance at her. She leaned over and said, "Thank you for bringing me here, Honey. This was worth the entire trip!"

"We'd be members if we lived anywhere near L.A.," Ryan decreed.

"No arguments," Jamie smiled. "This place rocks!"

There was another prolonged mass greeting during the kiss of peace, most of the congregants again leaving their chairs to tour around the church. It seemed like most of the people knew one another, but the greetings were just as enthusiastic for strangers. Jamie felt like she had been wrapped in a warm cocoon of acceptance and community, and even though the service had been going on for over an hour, she had no desire to see it end.

The Communion service was just winding down when Ryan leaned over and whispered, "Wish me luck."

Jamie squeezed her hand, which she realized she had been holding for the entire service, and sent her on her way. The tall woman slipped around the back of the choir and took her seat in front of the organ, looking up at Bryant as he introduced her.

"This week marks the anniversary of the death of someone who meant the world to me," he began. "AIDS has affected many of us here in this congregation, and it continues to be a scourge upon our cities. My friend, my lover, Michael, had a favorite song that he took courage from. When people questioned his belief in his creator, he just smiled and sometimes he'd quote a phrase or two from this song. In honor of his memory, I've asked his cousin Ryan to sing that song for us today." He nodded to Ryan and she began to play, her long, elegant fingers moving about the keyboard as though she was born to the instrument.

She closed her eyes, tossed her hair back from her face, and started to sing the song that had meant so much to her cousin.

They say that heaven is ten zillion light years away
And just the poor at heart will walk her righteous streets someday;
They say that heaven is ten zillion light years away
But if there is a God, we need him now.
Where is your God?
That's what my friends ask me.
And I say it's taken him so long, 'cause he's got so far to come.

Tell me people, why can't they say that hate
Is ten zillion light years away?
Why can't the light of good
Shine God's love on every soul?
Why must my color, black,
Make me a lesser man?
I thought the world was made for every man
He loves us all.
That's what my God tells me. And I say it's taken him so long,
'Cause we've got so far to come.

Ryan tossed her head back and took in a deep breath, her deep, smooth voice rising up strongly-the emotion of her statement evident on her face and in her words.

But in my heart I can feel it.
Feel his spirit.
I can feel it.
I can feel his spirit.

As she reached the chorus, the choir joined in, along with the rest of the musicians, the warm, melodic voices joining with Ryan's to form a perfect harmony. One of the women took over the lead, her powerful voice calling out to proclaim God's spirit.

The large group continued to sing, the words lost to Jamie as she focused intently on her partner, seeing the deeply felt emotions flitting across her beautiful face. Her voice never wavered, and not a tear escaped from her blue eyes-instead, she harnessed her feelings into her voice, the tones stronger and more powerful than Jamie had ever heard come from her lips. Chills chased down her spine as Ryan expressed her belief in her God as well as her dismay over the current state of the world, coming back time and again to her belief in the power of His spirit.

The woman who had shared the lead with Ryan closed the song, her voice building to such powerful levels that Jamie feared for the stained glass. She enunciated the final line clearly, making each word stand out. "I can feel his spirit!" she cried to the heavens, and Jamie shared a meaningful look with her partner, both of them acknowledging that Michael's spirit was fully present along with the Lord's at that moment.

Bryant wrapped Ryan in a massive hug as the congregation gave her and the choir a heartfelt round of applause. Jamie had to restrain herself from running up there, but she forced herself to wait for her lover to return, grabbing her and holding her tenderly for a long while. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she whispered. "He heard you, Ryan. I know he did."

They sat down, holding hands through the end of the service, then Ryan stood by Bryant, accepting hugs and kisses from so many people that her head spun. As the last of the people left the church, the tall man gazed at Ryan and said, "My God, when did you develop that voice! You should be singing professionally, Ryan."

"No, I don't think so," she said quickly. "I would join this choir if I lived down here, but I only get pleasure out of singing songs that really mean something to me. I love singing too much to do it to please other people, Bryant. I know that sounds odd…"

"No, no it doesn't," he said. "Michael was the same way. He played so beautifully, but he did it mainly for himself, or me. He said it was too personal to share with strangers."

"Yep. That's it," she agreed. "I don't mind doing it once in a while, like for Rory, but I know my limits."

"Thanks so much for singing today, Ryan. I can't think of a better way to mark the anniversary of Michael's passing."

"It was my pleasure, Bryant," she assured him. "Now I need the pleasure of lunch. Where should we go?"

"Do you like chicken?" he asked.

"Sure do," Ryan said.

"How do you feel about waffles?" he continued.

"Great. Love 'em."

"Excellent. Roscoe's Chicken 'n Waffles, here we come."

Neither Ryan nor Jamie had ever considered the merits of adding a waffle to a fried chicken dinner, but both were raving about the combination as soon as they were served. "I'll never be able to eat fried chicken without maple syrup again!" Ryan cried, trying to decide if she should order another breakfast or just eat Jamie's leftovers.

Since it looked like Bryant was slowing down too, Ryan decided to scavenge rather than order more, and she was just one bite short of bursting when she had finished off both of her companions' meals. "I see what you mean about her eating," the amused man said to Jamie. "Where do you put it?" He leaned over and pinched the trim waist, not finding enough loose flesh to get a good handle on.

Ryan shrugged and said, "Maintenance. I've got a big plant to fuel."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he mused. "You ate like a hungry wolf when you were a kid. I don't know how your father kept you all fed."

"Thankfully I could sponge off Aunt Maeve and my friends," she smiled. "He would have gone bankrupt if he'd had to pay for every bite of food I consumed."

"I wonder if it's genetic," he mused, looking at Jamie with a little grin. "Maybe you should be the one to have the children, Jamie." Turning to Ryan he said, "I assume you still want to have your own baseball team."

"Nah. We've scaled back," she informed him. "I might be satisfied with a basketball team." Cocking her head slightly she asked, "If we decide to go with a known donor, would you have any interest in contributing a little genetic material? Jamie's very talented, but she can't seem to manage a Y chromosome."

His eyes grew wide as he looked from one young woman to the other, seeing that they were serious about the question. "Gosh, Ryan, that's a very nice compliment." He looked a little uncomfortable as he said, "Are you at that point now?"

"No…far from it. We're just pre-planning," she said. "We haven't made any decisions at all. It'll probably be five or six years before we're at a point to do that." She looked at him carefully and said, "You don't look like you think it's a good idea."

He sighed and leaned his head back, unkinking his neck for a minute. "No, that's not it. I think you'd be a fabulous mother, Ryan. That's not an issue." He sat up fully and faced her. "I just don't know how I feel about creating a new life when there are already so many unwanted babies." He looked at Jamie and said, "I teach in the inner city, and I see so many kids languishing in the foster care system. I'm currently on the waiting list to become a foster father-I feel like I have to do something to help the problem."

Ryan reached across the table and squeezed his arm. "I think that's wonderful, Bryant. To be honest, even though I want to have one baby myself, we've talked about adopting the others."

"I'm not ruling it out, Ryan, so don't take this as a firm no. But I wouldn't want to do it if I wasn't involved in raising the child."

"If we use a known donor, we'd want that too," Ryan assured him. "If we just want genetic material we'll go to a sperm bank."

He laughed for a minute and said, "Michael used to say that his dream job was being a teller at a sperm bank."

Jamie rolled her eyes and said, "If they had the equivalent for women, Ryan would be first in line. It must run in the family."

"It's a good family," he said warmly. "Let's see where we all are with the topic in a few years, okay? I'm actively pursuing being a foster father, but if that doesn't work out I would consider moving back up to the city to do this, if we all agree. I really want to help raise a child."

"Whoever that child is will be very blessed," Ryan assured him, giving his hand a fond squeeze.

As they left the restaurant to get into the rental Jamie said, "He's a doll, Ryan. So warm and open. I can see why he's on your list."

"He always has been," she said softly. "As soon as I decided I was a lesbian I started planning how I'd have children. There was a part of me that always saw Bryant being the father of my kids."

"I'm gonna have to adjust my mental picture, but I might just start a little fantasy of a Ryan/Bryant combo myself," she grinned.

"Adjust your mental picture?" Ryan tilted her head in question.

"Yeah," Jamie explained. "I always imagine that the baby you give birth to will look like you. I think my imagination believes in cloning," she chuckled. "I picture the face from that photo of you from when you were about two. But if Bryant is the father, your baby probably won't share your features."

Ryan cocked her head even further and asked, "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No, not at all," Jamie assured her. "As I said, I just need to adjust my mental image. I do think we'd need to have a serious discussion about having an interracial child, of course, but I'm certainly not opposed."

"I agree that there are issues to consider if we use a donor of a different race," Ryan concurred, "but as a biologist, I'm all in favor of mixing up the gene pool. Racial purity is the road to extinction," she declared.

"Conceptually, I'm sure you're right, Honey, but we're not having a science experiment-we're having a baby. There are more issues here than improving the gene pool."

"One more good reason to wait a few years," Ryan agreed. "We'll have time to argue and plan and discuss and argue some more." She smiled brightly and decided, "It'll be fun!"

Jamie just rolled her eyes, believing that her partner could make nearly any discussion fun.

When the pair arrived back in Malibu, Jordan and Mia were in their beach attire. "Let's go!" Mia demanded. "The beach is calling me."

"Can we at least put on our suits?" Ryan asked with a smile.

She considered the request and granted permission with the proviso, "You've got five minutes…then we're taking the car!"

The day was very warm for early October and for a change there was no marine layer, so it was warm even by the ocean. Jamie had remembered to bring Ryan's suit, and Jordan had swiped one from Candy, so they were all set. Since it was too far to walk and they had to drive anyway, they headed quite a few miles further up Pacific Coast Highway to Zuma beach. The big surfing beach was not as crowded as they had feared, given the time of year, and they were even able to park in the convenient lot.

By the time they got all of their gear down to an acceptable spot, Ryan was ready for a nap. She smoothed the sand carefully, then created a small depression for her butt and built up a little sand pillow for her head. Her deep concentration was interrupted by Mia's chuckle. "What?" Ryan asked as she looked up to see three pairs of eyes staring at her. "I like to be comfortable."

"It's not brain surgery, Hon," Jamie reminded her. "Just toss your towel down and scoot around."

"Nope. Too much invasive sand. I've studied this, you know," she said firmly.

"I just bet you have, Tiger," Jamie said fondly as she patted her cheek.

Ryan was just about to lower herself into her custom made depression when Jordan said, "You aren't really just going to sit in the sun are you?"

"Ahh, yeah, that's exactly what I was planning on doing."

"But you can do that anywhere. You don't need the ocean to get a tan. That's a waste of a precious resource."

A deep sigh preceded the question, "What do you have in mind?"

"Wind-surfing," Jordan said with a glimmer in her light blue eyes.

"I don't know how," Ryan informed her.

"Even better!"

Jamie and Mia decided that watching wind-surfing sounded a lot more interesting than actually wind-surfing, but Ryan reluctantly agreed after Jordan reminded her that they did not have a game until Friday and that Jamie would be gone for two nights, so she could catch up on her sleep. They were able to rent the equipment right on the beach, but they would have to go without wetsuits, which Ryan was not at all happy about.

"Come on, Ryan, don't be such a wimp! It's 69 degrees, for God's sake!"

"Hey, everybody has quirks. One of mine is that I don't like cold water."

"I guarantee you won't notice it once you start working. This is really pretty tough to do right, and you work up a sweat pretty fast. Come on, trust me!"

Ryan rolled her eyes and let Jordan have her way. They decided to rent just one board at first so that Jordan could train her properly. Jamie and Mia came down by the edge of the water and watched the lesson, but neither woman would go for a turn on her own.

As expected, Ryan was a very quick study. Her balance, strength and fearlessness allowed her to grasp the mechanics quickly, and within 15 minutes she was skimming along atop the gentle waves. Jordan ran back to rent another board, and Mia and Jamie sat on the wet sand by the water's edge to watch them play.

"She's pretty hot, isn't she?" Mia asked as she tilted her head to get a better look.

"They both are," Jamie agreed, feeling the stirrings of desire. Watching the women sail along side by side, it was easy to compare their radically dissimilar bodies and styles. Ryan looked powerful and strong as she clung to the sail, A wild look on her face evidenced her desire to tame the ocean to suit her purposes. Jordan looked light and graceful, almost like she was resting on the board. She looked absolutely serene as she skimmed along and, rather than fighting with the sea, she appeared to be a part of it.

Their personality styles carried through to their body styles also. Even though Ryan outweighed Jordan by only 20 pounds now, that entire 20 pounds was muscle, most of it in her rock-hard thighs, round butt, and cut arms. Jordan's body was muscular, but in a softer, smoother form. There were small dips and indentations here and there, but mostly her muscle was invisible, even though it was obviously present. She looked like a more compact woman who had been stretched to her full 6'3" with all of her muscles elongated at the same time. Ryan, however, looked like every robust muscle belonged right where it lay. Actually, when viewed from a distance or in a photograph, one might have guessed that she was 5'8" or so, she was so perfectly proportioned.

Jamie decided that no matter what look a person preferred, it was undeniable that these two women were strikingly beautiful. In Jamie's assessment, Ryan was like a wild mountain stream, while Jordan reminded her of a deep blue pool nestled in a fjord. Both beautiful, both alluring, but only one called to her.

"Yo, Jamie, where'd you go?" Mia asked as she nudged her side with an elbow.