A Love that Leads to Home Read online

  She waited for Maurine to say more, but all she heard was her breath hitch. She knew Maurine very well and knew she was doing her best not to cry over her mother’s death, probably not wanting to worry Janice any further.

  It made Janice tear up.

  “I think I should come home,” she said. Betty Sims had died, and to Janice, that woman might as well have been kin and Maurine a sister.

  “No, you don’t need to be doing that. We’re just gonna sit here with Mama for a while before they take her and then we’ll go home.”

  “You’re still at the hospital then?”

  “For now.”

  “And you’re not alone?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Her brothers were probably there with her. Or “the boys” as she’d always called them. That made her feel a little better.

  She wiped away tears, hurting for Maurine and also for herself. Losing Betty tore at her just as much as the passing of her own mother had several years before.

  “I’m so sorry this has happened,” she said. “So sorry for your loss. She will definitely be missed.”

  “Yes. She will.” More stifled cries.

  “I’m here for you. Always. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  “I mean it now, Maurine. I can leave here if need be. So, don’t you dare hesitate to call.”

  “I won’t. But right now, there’s not much anyone can do. I don’t want you rushing home to tend to me and miss out on something you’ve been looking forward to all year.”

  “You’re more important than a conference, Maurine.”

  “Just please stay and try to enjoy yourself. It’s what I want. I’ll be okay.”

  “All right. But I’m not happy about this. And I doubt I’ll have much fun. She was—I—” Her throat tightened.

  “I know,” Maurine said.

  “And I worry about you and how you’re going to handle this. You always try to be the strong one and you try to hold everything inside when you do that. It’s not healthy.”

  “There’s no need to worry about that, Janice. I can’t even think about being strong right now.” She exhaled. “It’s so hard. Hurts so bad.”

  “I know, Mo,” she said, using the nickname she’d given her when they were kids. “I wish I was there so I could hold onto you until all that hurt is gone. You did that for me, remember? Stuck to me like glue when my mama died. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  Maurine cleared her throat.

  “I’ll be all right, Janice. Carla’s here and she’s gonna stay with me.”

  “Oh?” She pressed her hand to her face, the mere mention of her name causing a chain of involuntary reactions within. Learning that she was already there, and would be so close by, only intensified those reactions.

  She rubbed her leg and attempted to keep her voice at a normal octave.

  “I didn’t think she’d be able to get here so quickly.”

  She’d thought the earliest she’d get there would be early tomorrow morning.

  “I didn’t realize,” she said softly, more so to herself as she pictured her in her mind and grew a little dizzy. She’d been reacting to news about Carla a lot since she’d last seen her on that unforgettable Christmas day three years ago. And now, with Betty’s passing, it seemed that even the direst of circumstances couldn’t change the way she automatically responded. “But I’m so glad she’s there with you,” she added, coming back to reality.

  “Having her here helps. You know how strong she is,” Maurine said.

  Yes, she knew. She was well aware of her quiet strength and her self-assured, yet somewhat subtle confidence.

  Among other things.

  She blushed.

  “How long is she staying?” Her voice shot right back up to what she was sure was an ear-piercing pitch. Thankfully, Maurine didn’t seem to notice.

  “She said she wants to stay a while and help us get things settled with Mama’s affairs.”

  “Oh. That will be nice. I’m sure she’ll be a big help.” Sure, she was going to be a big help to Maurine and the boys. But what was her presence going to do to her? Better yet, what was it already doing to her?

  She hadn’t exactly planned on seeing her again so soon.

  “She will,” Maurine said, bringing her back in to focus. “I’m so glad she’s home.”

  “Me, too.” Janice sighed.

  Shit.

  She was convinced she’d just given herself away with her reply. But again, Maurine didn’t seem to notice.

  “Listen, I better go,” Maurine said. “They’re gonna come for her soon and I want to sit with her a little more.”

  “Okay, darlin’. You’ll let me know immediately when the services are going to be?”

  “Probably around Wednesday or Thursday next week.”

  She’d be home well before then.

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon,” she said. “Try to get some rest, and please, take care of yourself.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, Jay-Jay.”

  “Night.”

  She pulled back the covers and crawled into the king-size bed. She reached for her book on the nightstand, usually more than eager to read the lesbian romances she’d discovered. But her thoughts kept going to Carla.

  Her interest in her wasn’t new, but when it had begun it had been instantaneous and surprising. It had happened during her last visit home, three years before, when Carla suddenly announced that she was gay. Janice had been there, sitting right across from her at the dinner table along with the rest of the Sims family and she couldn’t forget the way her declaration had penetrated and flooded her heart. An unforeseen excitement had come from down deep inside and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Carla’s lesbianism had fascinated her, and she’d nearly gone insane with the constant imaginings of her being romantically intimate with women. Those thoughts had consumed her and eventually led her to an exploration of sorts. The freedom of living on her own after her divorce had made her secret quest for information quite easy and she’d learned some very interesting things about herself since.

  Some very, very interesting things.

  But what it all ultimately meant, she didn’t know. For the time being she’d just been enjoying her exploration and allowing herself to dream without the complication of deeper or further contemplation. And until now, living that way had worked. Now, however, the subject of those thoughts and dreams was back, and soon Janice would have to interact with her.

  “My God, I have to stop this.” Frustrated, she tossed the book on the nightstand and switched off the light. “What am I going to do?”

  She had to make being supportive of Maurine and the Sims family her main priority. She couldn’t be caught up in herself and her attraction to Carla. But that’s exactly what she was worried about. The woman she’d been fantasizing about for three years was going to be right in front of her, in the flesh.

  How am I going to feel? React?

  Think?

  Will I be able to control any of those things, and more importantly, hide them from others if I somehow can’t?

  This was what happened when you lived in the moment and avoided thinking about anything beyond it. If she had, she would’ve reined in her imagination, or at the very least, kept it better corralled, knowing that someday soon Carla would eventually return. That would’ve been the wise, cautious thing to do. Under any other circumstance, that’s what she would’ve done. But this had been different. It had thrown her for a loop. And she’d felt like, for the first time in her life, she deserved to feel good, without any rules or concerns about the future. After all, no one knew, so what was the harm?

  This is the harm.

  Carla was there and someone dear to them all had died. Completely unexpectedly. A hard punch to the gut.

  She was not prepared for either.

  Somehow, she was going to have to face them both togethe
r.

  I need to think.

  Just calm down and think.

  She breathed long, deep, and slow, and soon she began to relax.

  Carla’s image seeped into her thoughts like a sneaky liquid elixir. Too quick and too euphoric to fight, though she knew, somewhere down deep, almost too deep to even comprehend, that she should. But her mind and body were limp with the sedation of anticipated dreams.

  Blissfully helpless, she stared up into the darkness just as she’d done so many nights before and freed her mind, letting it go to where it wanted to be most.

  To Carla.

  Chapter Four

  Carla sat with her head in her hands on Maurine’s couch. The sofa was relatively new, and the deep maroon went well with her recently redecorated living room. Or so Carla had been told anyway. And according to Maurine, so did the newly reupholstered armchair with the flower print. Carla took her word for it. Maurine’s creativity and pension for decorating were what made her such an excellent floral designer at their great-uncle Floyd’s flower shop. It seemed, however, as Carla glanced around, that her compulsion to decorate and arrange knew no bounds.

  Carla sighed. Even if she had been into decorating like Maurine, she still wouldn’t be a fan of the new sofa. The damn thing had been doubling as her bed, and her backache and stiff neck were what she had to show for it. A good night’s rest had yet to pay her a visit. But her discomfort was really the last thing causing her concern.

  She glanced at her watch, the one her grandmother had given her when she’d graduated from Arizona State. She’d been so excited on that warm desert day when she’d handed her the small wrapped box. Carla had opened it slowly, wanting to cherish the moment, so touched and grateful that her grandmother had made the trip out west for her special day.

  “I hope you like it. I already set it to Arizona time. Since I know this is where you want to be. Where you’re the happiest.”

  She closed her eyes and forced the memory from her mind. She couldn’t cry again. Not right now.

  “Maurine, you about ready?” What was taking her so long? Though Maurine was borderline obsessive about the appearance of her home, she’d never been overly obsessive with her own appearance. Carla had always assumed it was because she simply didn’t need to primp. Her beauty was all natural. Carla almost asked her what the hold up was but she stopped herself, the answer already apparent.

  They’d all been dragging their feet today because they knew very well what they had to face. Carla had eventually kicked in and showered and ironed her black slacks and matching form-fitting blazer. She even took extra care when putting on her makeup, which she hadn’t worn since her arrival, and checked herself in the full-length mirror several times before deciding that she should button all three of the buttons on her blazer. She ran her fingers down the collar to the cream-colored camisole underneath, still worried about whether or not she looked nice enough. Realizing she didn’t have time to fuss with her outfit regardless, she refocused on her watch.

  “Maurine!”

  Damn it.

  They were going to be late for the funeral. She couldn’t seem to light a fire under anyone’s ass. The only one who seemed to have any concern for the time was Travis, Maurine’s husband. He’d already left for the church to meet with the other pallbearers. Carla was glad he was finally home. He was a long-haul trucker and had been on a run across the country when her grandmother had passed. His being home had made a big difference in Maurine. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed Travis. He was her love and support. A truly good guy who was the yin to Maurine’s yang. Maurine didn’t know how fortunate she was to have someone by her side like that.

  Carla felt that sickening dread that kept recurring just when she thought it was finally gone for good. It came on the coattails of the reality of her loss, the loss she’d endured before her grandmother’s death. The one that had been preceded by betrayal. It was a loss, she now knew in thinking about Maurine and Travis, that included more than just her relationship with Megan. It also included the hope she’d once had in having someone by her side for love and support.

  “Give me a damn minute!” Maurine shouted, causing Carla to jerk.

  Maurine sounded like she was still in her bedroom. Still getting ready.

  Carla groaned, completely exhausted, but more so, frustrated. She was just as tired as everyone else, having to meet and greet dozens and dozens of family and friends the past few days. She’d shaken hands, given hugs, and accepted kisses. She’d laughed and she’d cried. She’d comforted and consoled. And she’d made sure everyone was fed and hydrated with the relentless attention she’d paid to the enormous amount of food people had brought on their visits. They had so much she knew if she hadn’t kept it organized, first labeling and then rotating the dishes in and out of the fridge, and then cleaning up those that weren’t touched or already devoured, both Maurine’s and her grandmother’s house would be in a state of chaos with mountains of food everywhere. As it stood now, she’d even had to take multiple dishes to store at the neighbor’s homes.

  And then there had been the other issue with space.

  The people.

  Family and friends she hadn’t seen in years had driven in to pay their respects. She’d met people she didn’t even know were kin or that they even existed at all. They just kept coming and there hadn’t been room for them all in Maurine’s house or her grandmother’s, and they weren’t about to turn them away. Thankfully, the family’s long-time preacher, Douglas Kirby, was one of the first to stop by and he’d made a phone call, and an hour later, vans and pickup trucks pulled in and people unloaded and set up all the folding chairs and tables the church had. Carla had almost cried as she watched those kind folks do their best to make sure her family and friends at least had a place to sit when they came to visit.

  She’d given Douglas one of the biggest hugs she’d given thus far, and he’d only patted her on the back and reassured her that the chairs and tables were surplus and stored in the church basement and that there was no hurry to return them. They already had enough to accommodate everyone at the funeral.

  Moments like that made her appreciate where she came from. Made her so grateful that she had been raised around such good, kind people. People in that town considered everyone to be family and they treated them as such. Things had been that way for generations, and the families that were by her side today were the same ones that had been by her family’s side decades ago. There were, of course, those who weren’t so kind, and they’d let her know how they felt about her sexuality. But they weren’t the majority and she didn’t allow them or the town gossip and serious lack of privacy, keep her from appreciating where she came from.

  There was a knock at the door, and she hurried across the living room of the modest farmhouse to answer it.

  Cliff Buford, whom she considered to be the oldest living man in America, as well as the owner and manager of the town’s only funeral home, stood wearing one of his trademark dark suits and a somber smile.

  “Miss Carla,” he said in his gentle manner. “I’m here to escort your family to the church.” He spoke with such grace and elegance, and Carla had always wondered if that was just who he was or if it was because of his job. Or perhaps it was a little of both.

  She pushed open the squeaky screen door and gave him a hug, even though she’d seen him the night before at the private viewing up at the funeral home. She was still reeling and trying to recover from that. Having to see her grandmother one last time and give her a final good-bye had absolutely torn her heart out. It had torn all of their hearts out. And Cliff had teared up too. He’d known her grandmother from birth, having lived down the road from her family when she’d been born. He’d told Carla that he could still remember that day because she’d been breech and his father, who had been the closest thing to a doctor nearby, had rushed to their home and helped deliver her.

  She’d never known that before, and it had been nice of him to s
hare that with her. He probably had a story like that for nearly everyone in town, and she contemplated just how difficult it was for him to bury the people he knew so well.

  She pulled away and he held her hand in both of his. At last, Maurine came out behind her and she was softly cussing and fumbling in her purse for a mint, no doubt so her breath would be pleasant when interacting with folks at the funeral. Tending to tiny, nonsensical things was what Maurine did when anxious. It was her version of beard stroking.

  “Miss Maurine,” Cliff said with a polite nod.

  “Hey, Mr. Buford.”

  “Shall we go?” He offered them both an elbow, forever the gentlemen.

  They walked down the porch steps and crossed the lawn to where her uncles waited next to the limousine. They’d gotten ready at her grandmother’s house, where they’d been staying since her passing. They looked very nice in their suits and ties, dressed in their Sunday bests to lay their mother to rest.

  They rode to the church in silence. Maurine sucked on her mint and dabbed her nose with a tissue. She, too, looked nice in a long, floral print dress. She’d refused to wear black because, as she’d said, “Mama loved color and flowers” just like she did and she would’ve rather seen her in something like that. She messed with it the entire way, smoothing it down with her palm, over and over, as if thinking about her mother, until Cliff eased into the parking lot and headed slowly for the front entrance.

  The Sims family church was Southern Baptist, just like all the churches nearby, but it wasn’t as large as some of the others and didn’t have near as many members. It had history going back more than a hundred years, however, and loyal, devoted families that went back generations. Carla had always thought it a bit majestic with, not only its placement atop a hill, but its decorative stonework and steeple that seemed to soar into the sky. As a child, she’d often pretended it was a castle, and she used to love to just stand and gape up at it.