The Game of Denial (17 page)

"Slip your coat off," Evey said.

Without a moment of hesitation Joan shook the jacket from her shoulders and down her arms. Evey took it and hung it on the back of a nearby chair.

"Can you also unbutton your vest? The fabric is pulling across your back and I don't want to damage it," Evey said.

Joan kept her eyes closed as she released the buttons and dropped the vest from her shoulders to join the jacket. She loosened her necktie and collar and rested her head on the small table. Without the layers of clothing to protect her, Joan cringed the first time Evey's fingers manipulated the tense muscles along her shoulders and began moving down her spine in small increments. Evey located a bundle of knots near the bottom of Joan's right shoulder blade. She used the heel of her right hand and worked it in a clockwise movement while her left hand gripped Joan's shoulder.

"Am I hurting you?" Evey asked.

Joan moved her head on the table. "No. Your fingers are absolute magic," she said.

"This was supposed to be an enjoyable time for you and your family," Evey said. "It doesn't seem to be working out that way for you."

Joan propped herself on her elbows as she sat up and cleared her throat. "It was until Thursday."

"When Miss Ashford arrived?"

Joan sat back and looked at Evey. "Monica has made it clear to me, and anyone else who might listen, that she believes she and I would be an ideal couple." Joan shrugged. "I've made it equally clear that I am not interested in her that way. She has always been a very good friend, but I have no physical or emotional interest in her. I can't give her what she wants and refuse to take advantage of her for my own satisfaction."

"That's a very noble answer," Evey said.

Joan stood up quickly and grabbed her vest. "There's nothing noble about it. I simply don't feel that kind of attraction to Monica."

"So sex for the sake of physical release is out of the question?"

"It's not who I am. I see no need to ruin a perfectly good friendship."

Their conversation was interrupted by Meg rushing into the kitchen. "Frannie and Brad are coming to the house to change," she announced excitedly.

FRAN STOOD NEAR the bottom of the staircase, turned her back to the anxious group of women standing behind her, and tossed her bouquet over her shoulder. She and Brad had a reservation at a bed and breakfast not too far from Meadowbrook Farm and would leave for a longer stay in the Caribbean the following day. The happiness Joan saw on Fran's face threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Everything had seemed so simple when Tucker married, but losing one of their girls struck Joan hard for some reason. As if on cue, the group awaiting the bouquet parted and let it fall into Charmaine's hands.

"Very funny," Charmaine said. "I'm not quite ready to give up my freedom yet. Why should I when I have all the best benefits of marriage without the responsibility?"

The women around Charmaine pushed her and whispered what Joan guessed were smarmy comments about her active and well-documented sexual exploits.

"Are you all right?" Evey asked, running her hand across Joan's back in a circular pattern that felt like a caress.

"I think I might need a drink," Joan said.

"I saved a bottle of champagne, thinking I might feel the same way once the dust settled." Evey crooked her index finger, signaling Joan should follow.

The two women heard the shouts of the wedding guests as they strolled across the lawn toward the reception area. The band was taking a smoke break during the departure of the bride and groom. Their services had been paid for until midnight. Two more hours.

Evey stepped behind one of the two bar areas and rummaged around for a moment before triumphantly raising an unopened bottle of champagne. She picked up two champagne flutes and motioned to Joan with her head. "I need to enjoy this without the racket caused by the younger set," she said.

When they reached the far stable area, Joan dragged two hay bales into the walkway and settled them close enough to a wall to allow them to lean back. Evey handed Joan the champagne bottle and they both laughed when the sound of the popping cork caused a chorus of whinnies from the horses attempting to sleep. The two women silently sipped their champagne and listened to the remaining guests returning to the reception area for another round of celebration.

Joan finished her flute of champagne. "Maybe tomorrow your life can return to normal," she said.

"Hmmm. Whatever normal is," Evey said. "What's normal for you?"

Joan shrugged. "Going to work, going home, going to sleep. Very exciting stuff."

Evey turned her head and stared at Joan. "That's interesting, the way you said that."

"What?"

"Most people would say "˜go to work, come home, go to bed.' Not go to sleep."

Joan rested her elbows on her knees. "I've had a difficult time falling asleep since I've been alone. It's not a rarity for me to fall asleep on the couch or in my recliner. It's usually morning when I wake up."

"That's kind of sad in a way."

"Could be. What's normal for you?"

"Pretty much the same things, except I always fall asleep in bed."

"I envy you."

Evey put her hand on Joan's arm. "Oh, listen. I love this song. Would you dance with me again?"

"If you want."

Evey stood up and finished her champagne. "You've danced with just about every other woman here multiple times. I feel a little neglected and dancing with Tully or Harlan isn't much to write home about. Tully sort of sways in the same place the whole time and Harlan knows the basic box step."

Joan nodded. She unbuttoned her tuxedo jacket and removed it one arm at a time. "Do you mind?" she asked.

"Make yourself comfortable."

The words had barely left Evey's mouth when Joan took her hand and slid an arm around her waist, drawing Evey closer than she had the first time they danced. Evey draped her arm across Joan's shoulder.

"You smell wonderful," Evey mumbled against Joan's chest. "What's it called?"

"Insatiable," Joan answered, clearing her throat.

Evey laughed at Joan's apparent discomfort.

A few moments later, Joan shivered slightly as Evey's fingers found their way into her hair and brushed up the close cut along her neckline.

"It feels like sable," Evey commented softly.

Joan's hand moved up Evey's back and pressed her closer. She cleared her throat when the music stopped and stepped back.

"Why are you so nervous, Joan?"

"I'm not."

"Yes. You are. You always clear your throat when you're nervous about something."

"An unconscious habit. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I didn't mean to make you nervous."

"You haven't. Sometimes I manage to make myself nervous."

Evey raised a hand and pressed it against Joan's cheek. "Do I make you nervous?"

"No." Joan closed her eyes, absorbing the softness against her skin.

Evey moved her hand to Joan's neck and pressed until Joan lowered her head. Joan was startled when Evey's lips brushed against hers. "Does that make you nervous?" Evey said.

"Extremely," Joan choked out.

"Why?"

Joan opened her eyes and looked into Evey's. "Because it makes me wish for things that aren't a good idea." Evey watched as the brown irises of Joan's eyes seemed to melt into a smoky, liquid chocolate she longed to devour.

"I practically begged you to kiss me a few days ago, but I was distraught. Tonight I'm not."

Joan leaned forward and moved closer as her lips kissed softly at the edges of Evey's mouth. She smiled when she saw Evey's lips part with each teasing touch, expecting more.

"Damn, you're a tease," Evey said as Joan's lips began a slow trail to her ear.

"You're so beautiful," Joan breathed. "Please tell me to stop."

"I can't." Evey encircled Joan's neck and held her.

"It's not too late," Joan said as she nibbled at the sensitive skin below Evey's jaw.

"Don't stop," Evey choked out as she brought Joan's mouth to meet hers.

Joan knew it was a mistake the instant she felt Evey's lips part beneath hers, inviting her to explore. It had been so long since she'd felt anything so wonderful. She ran a hand into Evey's hair and caressed the back of her head as she plundered her mouth. She reveled in the feel of Evey's tongue vying with hers in a release of pent-up passion. She longed to crawl inside Evey's soft skin and become one with her. Finally, Joan separated from Evey to catch her breath. "I'm...I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."

Evey's breathing was labored as she leaned her head against Joan's chest. "I'm sorry you're sorry," she said.

Joan couldn't force her eyes to connect with Evey's again as she picked up her jacket and quickly left the stables.

Chapter Sixteen

EVEY AWOKE LATER than usual the morning after the wedding. She hadn't slept in for years. She stretched and yawned, scratching at her body as she looked out the front window overlooking the area where the wedding had taken place only a few hours earlier. When she returned to her room the night before, she had remained awake reliving the feel of soft lips against hers, gradually demanding more. She refused to take a shower before going to bed, inhaling the scent of the woman who had held in her arms.

Evey had been disappointed after Joan left her standing in the stable walkway alone. Dressed for a return to her normal routine and thinking of a way to apologize to Ralph for leaving him with the morning chores, Evey noticed the door to Joan's room was still closed when she walked by on her way downstairs. She was surprised to see Charmaine, usually a late sleeper, dressed and holding a very large travel mug.

"Good morning," Evey said cheerfully.

Charmaine grimaced. "You couldn't possibly have had as much to drink last night as I did and still be able to say that."

"It was a beautiful wedding and a wonderful celebration afterward. You, Meg, and Beth were beautiful. I can't wait to get the pictures from the photographer. Have you had breakfast?"

Charmaine nodded as she swallowed another gulp of coffee. "We had breakfast with
Meme
and Uncle Ron before we drove them to the airport this morning."

"We?"

"Mom and I picked them up from their hotel. I brought the car back with me."

"Did your mother go back to bed?"

"She flew to Omaha with
Meme
."

The eggs Evey held in her hand fell to the floor as she stared at Charmaine. "Damn! I...I didn't know she was planning to fly to Omaha."

"Last minute decision. Some bullshit about needing to get back to the office to deal with an emergency and using the flight to spend a little more time with
Meme
." Charmaine smirked. "It never seemed important to her before and now she gets all mushy about
Meme
, who treats her like total shit and hates who she is." Charmaine squeezed water from a sponge and helped Evey clean up the slimy mess. "Personally," Charmaine started as she wiped the floor, "I think something happened last night that scared the crap out of my mother."

"I don't understand..." Evey said.

Charmaine laughed out loud. "You didn't have to understand, Mrs. Chase. My mother has been alone, and I mean alone alone, for ten long years. Maybe Monica finally made a chip in that armor she refuses to take off." Charmaine rinsed the sponge in the sink and returned to kneel next to Evey. "Maybe she thinks she'd be betraying Mama somehow if she became involved with someone else. I was eighteen when Mama died and I knew her pretty well. She wouldn't have stayed alone ten months, let alone ten years if it had been Mom who died. I mean, she was
French
, for God's sake!"

Charmaine stood and tossed the sponge in the sink. "Well, I should start packing and I guess I'm responsible for making sure Meg does, too. After they drop Mom off, she's sending the plane back for Brad and Fran tomorrow morning. Then it will return for the rest of us. That poor plane will probably need an overhaul after all the trips it's making. Oh, yeah," she said patting the pockets of her pants, "Mom asked me to give this to you."

Evey's hand shook slightly as she took an envelope from Charmaine. She tried to say thank you, but the words refused to leave her mouth. She felt tears threatening to burst over the boundaries of her eyelids and covered her eyes as she turned to lean over the sink.

CHARMAINE PAUSED OUTSIDE the kitchen. She thought she'd heard what sounded like someone crying, but the sound stopped. She was furious at her mother. She wasn't really living a life anymore. Since they had lost Martine, Joan hadn't been the same person Charmaine remembered from her childhood.

On the pre-dawn drive into town to pick up Ron, Anita, and
Meme
, Charmaine had tried to get her mother to open up, which worked about as well as it usually did. Once Joan Carmichael made a decision, it rarely changed. When she couldn't stand the silence anymore, Charmaine finally asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

"About what, dear?"

"The reason you're running away."

"I'm not running away," Joan said with what would have passed for a laugh to anyone except Charmaine. "I told you I have business I need to deal with in New York. The sooner I address it, the sooner it will go away."

"I'm not too bright sometimes, Mom, but even I know bullshit when I hear it."

"It's nothing. I'll be fine as soon as I can get home and spend a few blessedly quiet hours alone. You know I hate large crowds. They make me feel claustrophobic after a time." Joan looked at Charmaine and smiled. "Besides, you only have to endure
Meme
during the drive to the airport. I, however, will be a prisoner at twenty-five thousand feet, forced to endure her sharp tongue, all the way to Omaha. I'll send Karina back for Brad and Fran tomorrow morning and the rest of you as soon as possible, not later than the following morning."

"Better disconnect the house phone and turn off your cell," Charmaine advised. "You know Meg will be burning up the lines trying to get in touch with you."