Dedication: to you, all ye faithful - to all those I have met via this story, to those who betaed and edited and discussed the nights away with me, to those who kept checking back and writing mails even when I had to take long breaks from the script, to all those who have been following “Campus” for the past seven years. Many of you have let me know that this story has accompanied them through important periods of their lives, through growing up and coming out, through illness and happiness, through founding families and leaving for new horizons. I’m honored and grateful than this story has stayed with you for so long. Thank your for your time and support during this journey. I hope you will enjoy the finale.

CHAPTER 13

“She didn’t.” Joanna looked up at Brett from where she was precariously perched atop the gymnastics ball.

“Oh yes, she did.” Brett nodded down at her. “She had them all wrapped around her little finger. And she was comfortable with them! As if she’d never said a word against gays. She even let them make her the judge of their stomach muscle contest.”

Joanna arched an eyebrow at this. “Just what were you drinking?”

“Martinis. Vodka.” Brett shrugged impatiently. “Oh, does it matter?” She handed over the dumbbells Joanna motioned for. “Fact is, she flirted with my friends!”

Joanna focused on her exercise, avoiding a prompt reply. She wasn’t quite sure what Agniesza had made of her advice, but the Hungarian had certainly not been kidding about going after Brett with both barrels. “Unexpected,” she finally commented between two terse breaths.

“Unexpected?” Brett repeated with disbelief. “Insane!”

“Would you rather she bitched at them?” Joanna nodded at Brett to take the weights and then reached for her towel.

“Perhaps then they wouldn’t have made me drive her home,” Brett muttered darkly, dropping the dumbbells back on the rack with more noise than necessary.

Brett hadn’t mentioned that particular tidbit before. Draping the towel over her midsection, Joanna settled back down onto the gymnastics ball. “Why do I have the feeling that I should stay put for the next bit?”

“No!” Brett’s protested. “Nothing happened!” She didn’t feel comfortable talking about the hug that somehow had happened, despite her best intentions. “She introduced me to her cat, gave me back my clothes and I left.”

Joanna eyed her friend skeptically. “Uh-huh.”

“Don't blame me – I didn’t ask her to sit on my doorstep in the rain,” Brett groused. “Or to hang her wet dress in my shower so it was the first thing I ran into in the morning.”

“A dress which I presume you gave back to her first thing today?” Joanna asked idly, remembering how the shawl Brett had somehow ended up borrowing from Agniesza during the symposium had been sitting on the edge of Brett’s office desk for days.

“I would have,” Brett stated defensively. “Only she wasn’t in today.” She eyed Joanna speculatively. “Much like you, by the way. And Eliane.”

Joanna ignored the pointed look directed at her. “Eliane has been in a faculty committee meeting all day.” Her tone made it clear that she could have thought of a better use of Eliane’s time. “And I was at the German Library preparing for my dissertation defense.”

Brett looked at her oddly. “But it’s exam month - the libraries are stuffed with students at the moment!” Nobody who didn’t absolutely have to would try and study there.

“I know,” Joanna sighed. Finding a seat had been a real challenge today. “But I can’t work at home, either – they’re remodeling the dorms across the street over the summer, and the noise is unbearable.”

“Ouch.” Brett winced. “And just in time.” She gestured at the weight rack. “Another set?”

“No.” Joanna stood up, nudging the gymnastics ball towards Brett. “I still need some energy tonight.”

Brett groaned and slumped onto the ball. “Give me a break.”

“Give me a break,” Joanna said as she looked for the proper dumbbells. After yesterday’s long phone call with Olga, who had been teasing her just as mercilessly about Eliane, her patience was wearing thin. “In case you forgot, she’s leaving Thursday afternoon.”

“All right, you win.” Brett held up her hands in surrender. “And please give me some bigger weights.” When Joanna raised an eyebrow at that, she winked at her. “I can afford it – my evening won't be as exciting or exhausting as yours.”

This time, it was Joanna who groaned, even though she was very much looking forward to seeing Eliane in the evening.

 

The last stairs to her apartment seemed steeper than usual and Eliane ascended them slowly. She balanced a precariously high stack of photocopies on her knee as she fished in her briefcase for the keys, wondering tiredly why those faculty meetings on financial issues always took twice as long as any other meeting. At least she had managed to organize most of her class material for Bloomington on the side.

Despite the warm summer evening outside she just wanted to sink into her bathtub for a nice long soak to ease the tension in her back. Her mood perked up when she realized that perhaps she could make that a bath for two, finally making good on her longstanding promise to Joanna to use her tub.

Eliane was amazed at how much she was looking forward to not having to unwind alone tonight. She had always preferred to have her space and her quiet to relax, but the idea of Joanna sitting next to her on the couch, looking at her with intent eyes, fit perfectly well into the image. Also, there were some things on her Bloomington syllabus where she was curious about Joanna’s opinion. And she could just picture Joanna smiling indulgently at her when she messed up something as simple as the salad dressing again, like she had yesterday. Although Eliane had to argue in her defense that she had been willfully distracted by the chef.

She paused in between sorting photocopies into neat stacks on her study desk, stuck on the fact that this was the third night in a row Joanna was coming over in the evening. And instead of feeling overwhelmed and invaded, all she could think of was that Joanna would hopefully stay over again. After all, there were only three more nights until she had to leave.

For the first time since she had started to work in Europe, Eliane was not wholly enthusiastic about going home for the summer and it wasn’t just about being away from Joanna for so long. She was exhausted – the months-long struggle over the institute’s uncertain future seemed to be taking its toll. Thinking back, Eliane couldn’t remember a summer where she hadn’t taught summer sessions or done some other kind of lecture work, never even thinking about taking a break. But now spending a month or two reading on her Leipzig roof garden suddenly sounded nice as well. She might even have taken Bertha up on her offer to join her and the kids for a few days on their upcoming camping adventure up North at the lakes. And, of course, she could have spent a lot more time with Joanna, even if it were only sitting next to her on the couch while she worked on her book project and Joanna prepared her dissertation defenses.

Seven weeks did sound awfully long, Eliane mused, but it was certainly something they could handle like adults. Still, that didn’t explain why she felt so petulant about the fact.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts and she left the paper stacks in disarray, taking a second to glance into the mirror on her way to the door. She still hadn’t changed out of her conference suit – one of her favorites since Joanna had peeled it off her with her eyes during the symposium – merely having shed the jacket, and she wasn’t quite sure whether she had deliberately forgotten to change into something more comfortable before Joanna arrived. From where she was leaning against the doorframe, Eliane could hear her taking the steps two at a time, and still she felt impatient. And when Joanna finally came into sight, her mind hesitated for one small moment before she dared to believe it again: that this was for her – that this woman was hurrying up the staircase towards her, smiling at her.

“Guess who just called me!” Joanna was positively beaming, taking the last half staircase in two jumps, dropping her sports duffel bag at Eliane’s feet with a flourish. Her cheeks were flushed from running up the stairs and a few tendrils of hair had escaped her loose ponytail, while a snug baby blue top left an inch of skin visible above a pair of comfortably wide pants that were sitting low on her hips.

Eliane smiled happily. Lucky me. Aloud, she guessed “Your father?” He had called Joanna once since the symposium and it had done wonders for Joanna’s peace of mind, especially since her mother still refused to speak to her.

“No,” Joanna kissed Eliane briefly on the lips, allowing her to pull her into the apartment. “But similarly good.”

Eliane closed the door behind them and gave her an expectant look.

“St. George,” Joanna stated excitedly. “I’ve got my defense dates, both of them!”

“That’s wonderful!” Eliane snatched a planner off the reception table in the hallway. “Spill it.”

Joanna laughed. “Literature is on September 17 th and Performance Theory on September 22 nd –”

“So soon?” Eliane hadn’t expected Irene to speed things up that much.

“The sooner the better.” Joanna shrugged, undeterred in her good mood. “I need it to formally head the new Performance Studies section.”

Eliane winced. “It’s just that classes in Bloomington don’t finish up before the 23 rd –”

“Oh – ” Joanna hadn’t really thought about the classes, only having counted that seven weeks would be over on the 21 st of September. She knew Eliane hadn’t even finalized her return flight yet.

“God, Joanna, I’m so sorry.” With a rueful sigh, Eliane shook her head. “I can’t believe I’ll miss them both.”

“Don't worry about it.” Joanna tried not to sound too disappointed. Truth to be told, she hadn’t expected Eliane to be back in time, but she still had held out a little hope. “At least this way you won’t be associated with it at all.”

“Are you kidding?” Eliane asked in disbelief. “I should be there!” She seemed more upset about missing the defenses than Joanna herself. “I was at Rainer’s, too.” Off Joanna’s blank look, she explained, “My former assistant.” She dropped the planner back onto the hallway table and moved closer. “Aside from the fact that I should be there for entirely personal reasons.” Her fingertips followed the neckline of Joanna’s top. “In the first row, as the proudly beaming girlfriend.”

Joanna’s smile gentled. “I’d like that,” she admitted softly.

“You’ll have to film the speeches,” Eliane insisted. “I want to see them!”

Joanna protested. “It’s really not that important…”

“The hell it isn’t!” Eliane replied hotly. Then she smiled, her expression mischievous. “You know what? – I’ll con Bjarne into doing it.” She liked it that Joanna had to laugh at that. “I’m really sorry I can’t be there,” she added.

“It’s okay.” Joanna tangled their fingers together, thinking it strange how the situation seemed to be worse for Eliane than for her. “I’d be far too distracted if you were there, anyway.”

“Distracting?” Eliane looked up at Joanna from beneath her lashes. “Me?”

Joanna nodded and she had to clear her throat before she spoke. “Very.”

“Do you think I could distract you right now, perhaps with a relaxing bath?” Eliane suggested, her hands now stroking up Joanna’s arms.

“I showered at the gym,” Joanna heard herself reply. Fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Your hair is still wet,” Eliane observed.

“Yes…” Joanna leaned into the touch.

Eliane tugged lightly, closing the last few inches between them. Again she felt a little jolt as their lips touched, almost as if in the brief span since she had last kissed Joanna she had forgotten how soft her mouth was. And just before she let herself be carried away by the shared caress, she wondered for how long it would feel like this. Even now that she saw Joanna more frequently than ever before, it still seemed so strange to her that there was someone whom she could just reach out to and touch when she felt like it, someone whose arms opened when she walked closer, and who smiled when she looked at her.

Of course, the past few days had been crazy, shaped clearly by the fact that she was leaving soon, and for a long time. They had cocooned themselves up in a secluded oasis, giving little to no thought to what would happen after she left. Or, which bothered Eliane far more, after she returned. Seven weeks was a long break in a relationship as new as theirs, especially after having known Joanna only for a little more than twice as long a time. There was no guarantee as to what either of them would feel after the summer.

“I love that suit on you.” The voice sounded close to Eliane’s ear.

Now wasn’t the time for worries. She smiled into Joanna’s neck. “I know.”

*************

From the corner of her eye, Brett stared at the neatly pressed and folded dress that sat on the farthest corner of her office desk, until the pattern of tiny white flowers on dark ground began to swirl in front of her eyes.

The rain-soaked fabric clinging to Agniesza’s thighs. Agniesza sitting on her doorstep, arms crossed in front of her chest. Agniesza under her shower, water cascading down her back in rivulets…

Brett scowled. She would only have to walk down the corridor and knock on Agniesza’s office door to give the distracting garment back. But she didn't know how Agniesza would react and she really didn’t want to see her. Still, that didn’t explain how she had felt with the dress in her laundry, looking at it guiltily as she had hung it up to dry with tingling fingers.

Angry at herself, Brett stood abruptly and gathered up the dress, walking out of her office with her shoulders squared. She almost ran into Bertha and Darhayne on the corridor, greeting them absently. She was on a mission, after all.

“”You’re far too relaxed for a Tuesday morning,” Brett heard Bertha complain in good humor.

“If I were grumpy, you’d complain as well,” Eliane retorted easily. She did really sound remarkably relaxed.

Bertha seemed to think so as well because she narrowed her eyes. “Keep that up and I might rescind my camping invitation.”

Eliane shrugged, her expression sly. “Take Paul instead.”

Bertha stopped in her tracks. “Very funny.” She glowered regally at Eliane. “In case you’ve forgotten, he is only here for a colleague who is on maternity leave – he’ll probably be gone by the end of the academic year. And monster dog or not, I’m not getting my kids involved when we’re talking short-term.”

The teasing question as to what exactly Bertha was planning to do short-term remained unasked. Eliane was honestly surprised. She had only been kidding, but Bertha had apparently given Paul Lukasz quite some thought. When she started to talk about people in relation to her kids, Bertha Daniels was serious. “When does he leave?” Eliane inquired instead.

“I didn't really want to ask,” Bertha admitted. “For all I know he could be gone by the end of September.”

Eliane crossed her arms over her chest, taking note of the unusual reluctance on Bertha’s side. “Shouldn’t you make the most of it then?”

“Yes,” Bertha agreed, looking over Eliane’s shoulder distractedly. “Wait – did Brett just walk into Dr. Matysek’s office?”

Eliane turned around to face an empty corridor and shrugged. “I don't know.”

Bertha stood still for a moment, listening intently. “Nobody seems to be throwing anything so far.” Off Eliane’s confused look, she rolled her eyes. “The feud has been reopened, or didn't you notice? – You should have seen Matysek when she came in. And Brett has been irritable for days.” She cast another distrusting glance at the closed door of Agniesza’s office. “They are almost as bad as you and Joanna were in the beginning.”

“We weren’t that bad!” Eliane protested, but fell silent at the arch look Bertha gave her.

 

 

Brett stood uncomfortably in the middle of the office, looking everywhere but at the woman seated behind the desk. It was vaguely reminiscent of being called into the teacher’s office in elementary school. She held out the dress that suddenly looked ridiculously out of place in her hands.

“Thank you.” Agniesza actually got up and walked around the desk to take the garment. “You ironed it,” she stated with surprise.

“I can iron,” Brett replied defensively. Agniesza had braided her hair today and it seemed darker, as if she had oiled it. At the close distance, Brett could pick up a faint scent of lavender and roses.

“You didn’t have to.” Agniesza wasn’t looking up at Brett, either. Still, she didn’t step away.

The silence hung between them for a few long moments before Agniesza raised her head and met Brett’s eyes directly, leaving the psychologist hard-pressed for a convenient explanation as to why she suddenly felt out of breath.

Agniesza eyed her carefully. “I had a nice time with your friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Brett stopped herself before she could shove her hands into her pockets. It was enough that she felt like a kid, she didn’t have to act like one, too.

Agniesza waited, but Brett obviously wasn’t trying to make this easy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking,” she offered. “Now that I’m staying and we’ll have to work together for at least another year, we should try and find a way to get along.” Brett still didn’t say anything and Agniesza gestured at her in exasperation. “But now you are so hostile –”

“Sorry if my patience finally ran out.” Brett snapped, finding a reasonable Agniesza a lot more insufferable than the usual irrational Agniesza.

They stood a bit apart, staring at each other angrily until Agniesza chose to back away from the tension. “We still have to work together.”

“It’s summer break right now,” Brett pointed out and sounded petulant even to her own ears.

“Of course.” Agniesza slowly counted up to three, certain she had never been that purposefully unhelpful. But if Brett thought she could disrupt ‘Project Garland’ with simple gruff attitude, she didn’t know anything about Agniesza. Yet. “So I thought we could… do something together,” she continued smoothly. “Practice the peace.”

“Do something together?” Brett echoed in disbelief, an eyebrow rising high on her forehead.

“A movie. A walk in the park. Dinner. Drinks without your friends,” Agniesza listed coolly. “The zoo, if you like.” She nodded at Brett, challenge evident in her expression. “Have your pick.”

“I… don’t know.” Faced with a demanding Agniesza, Brett realized that there was something that was even more annoying than a reasonable acting Agniesza: an Agniesza who acted reasonable and called the shots, leaving Brett overwhelmed and out of sorts.

Mercifully, Agniesza chose that moment to step back, with an expression on her face that Brett could only describe as inappropriately smug. “Just let me know what you’d prefer.”

Hung up on the many ways that could be interpreted, Brett merely managed an unsteady “Okay,” while she walked backwards towards the door, feeling with her hands for the doorknob before she all but fled the room. She wasn’t sure whether Agniesza was mocking her, or whether she was really trying to reach out to her. Brett couldn’t have said which of the two was the more disturbing scenario.

Agniesza was left staring after Brett, lost in thought. That hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned, even though Brett’s skittishness had been more ambiguous than a calm ‘no’ on the psychologist’s side would have been. She looked down at the carefully folded dress in her hands. Perhaps her chances were better than she had initially assumed.

 

“Darhayne from International Cultural Studies – yes, we’re up on the fourth.” Eliane smiled winningly even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see her. When she had asked Eleonora for the number of the Institute of Applied Linguistics, the secretary had barely quirked an eyebrow, but Eliane had long since given up wondering how Eleonora seemed to know everything that was going on.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with our institute.” Eliane continued to charm what seemed to be a young male student aid. “We have an interdisciplinary structure and also try to network…”

“Yes I saw your concert on the Open Door Day!” the young man interrupted her, suddenly sounding a lot more interested. “Great singer!”

“Yes,” Eliane agreed blandly, glad that he couldn’t see the smug grin that was curling the corners of her mouth. “As I said, we try to network with other institutes as well and I was wondering if one of your employees would be interested in a cross-over project next semester, or even the semester after next…”

“Sure.”

He sounded a little too enthusiastic for Eliane’s tastes, especially when it came to the aforementioned singer. “Actually I was thinking of Mr. Paul Lukasz – “

“Oh… – he’s on vacation.” Eliane heard the click of a ballpoint over the line. “Would you like to leave a message for him?”

“No thank you, I’ll simply try to reach him when he gets back,” she deflected smoothly. “Do you know when that might be?” She let a second pass before she casually added, “Oh, and just for further planning, do you know if he will be available next semester, or the semester after next? I understand he is only on a guest contract as a maternity leave replacement…”

“Oh, he just started with us,” the young man informed her cheerfully. “Maria – I mean Dr. Michalczevsky – had her twins only last month, so Lukasz will be with us for quite a while yet.”

Eliane grinned as she hung up the phone, drumming her fingers on the table top with a satisfied nod. If everything were as easy to resolve as this, she’d have days of allotted time saved up on financial board meetings alone.

On the way to the kitchenette for a well-deserved coffee, she stopped to knock on Bertha’s office door. “His contract only just started,” she announced by way of greeting.

Bertha looked up from her work, startled, only to frown at Eliane. “You asked him?!”

“Of course not.” Eliane thought it interesting how Bertha didn't even need to ask what she was talking about. “I called their institute main desk about personnel that might be available for interdisciplinary projects in the upcoming semesters.”

“You sneak,” Bertha said accusingly, but her eyes were twinkling.

“Just looking out for the curriculum,” Eliane stated easily. “And for your camping companions.”

Bertha laughed. Inviting Paul to their camping tour was of course out of the question, but maybe he would agree to another dinner. She would even let him bring that monster dog again.

*************

Wednesday had arrived sooner than expected, Joanna thought. She and Eliane were lazily strolling through the warm July evening, both of them silent and clearly unwilling to bring up that this was their last night for long weeks to come. Between her own continued exile at the library – she stood no chance of getting any work done at home, with the construction crews tearing down the old dorm siding across the street – and Eliane’s various last minute appointments, there hadn’t been any time to prepare for this. Only now Joanna thought that perhaps she should have organized something to make this evening more special – more memorable, so that Eliane wouldn’t forget about it, and about them, over the summer. Angry at her own insecurities, Joanna shook her head as if to ward off the unwanted musings. Eliane wouldn’t forget about them. But still, the summer ahead was long, and she would remain here, while Eliane flew home to a place she didn’t know and to people she had barely heard of.

Glancing over at Eliane walking next to her, Joanna was struck by how little she knew about her yet. Sure, she was getting better at understanding Eliane, but there was still so much she wasn’t privy to – Eliane rarely talked about her family, or her childhood. Perhaps it was because they were both still trying to figure out how to talk to each other, much less about other people, or perhaps because they now spent a good deal of their time communicating in ways that didn’t involve many words. Joanna found herself smiling under the light blush that colored her cheeks. She knew she wanted to figure out every last quirk and secret about Eliane. It would probably take years, but that was a prospect Joanna didn’t mind. Her fingers brushed against Eliane’s in walking.

They had eaten out tonight, at the Vietnamese place around the corner from Eliane’s apartment, after Eliane had claimed that her place was too much of a mess, and that she had already cleaned up the kitchen for the summer. She had been extremely charming throughout dinner, regaling Joanna with food anecdotes from the one time she had visited her father on a dig in Indonesia, and of her first escargot experience in Paris. Amidst the flirting and teasing, she hadn’t once mentioned her impeding departure and what she still had to do beforehand. It puzzled Joanna, even though she didn’t complain. Trying to lighten the mood was a sweet gesture on Eliane’s part, even though Joanna had the feeling that Eliane wasn’t as unperturbed as she pretended to be.

The mood became palpably more sober when they neared Christian Street. Eliane seemed to become tenser by the minute, staring ahead of her as if lost in thought. Joanna looked out over the river, uncertain what to say. They had taken the slightly longer route by the water, where tiny midges danced around the newly lit streetlights. The water barely moved, lying dark and still beneath them. Across the river, the trees in the park smelled like summer.

Joanna rolled her shoulders, feeling the fabric of her shirt stretch against her neck. Eliane still didn’t look up when she unlocked the front door and Joanna wondered whether it was such a good idea to stay over tonight. Between packing and last minute errands, Eliane might simply not be up to the grand romantic goodbye that she had envisioned.

They walked up the stairs in pensive silence, and Joanna had to think that this was the last time for quite a while that she would climb these stairs.

“Tired?” Eliane asked as she opened the door to her apartment, stepping aside to let Joanna pass.

Joanna shook her head. “Not really.”

Eliane wasn’t tired, either. Rather, she was feeling wired, like she always did before a long trip. It belonged to her ritual, just like the glass of brandy after the suitcases were closed, and the last look through all the files in her briefcase before she left for the airport. It was strange to have someone else around on such a last night, with her luggage only half done and items still haphazardly stacked everywhere. For some reason, it made her uncomfortable to have someone else in the middle of all this, but on the other hand, she just wanted to curl up with Joanna and forget all about the suitcases and her trip and the next seven weeks. At the moment, she couldn’t really imagine what it would feel like not to see Joanna every day. Looking at Joanna, glancing at her as she made her way past the business suits that were neatly hanging from each door, the notion was so alien to her that she was hard-pressed to believe that tomorrow night, she would sleep on a plane, surrounded by strangers.

Joanna stepped over a heap of files on the hardwood floor. “And here I was about to ask whether you were all packed…” She smiled in amusement.

“I’ve made this trip more than once already, you know,” Eliane snapped, startling them both with her reaction.

Joanna blinked in puzzlement, surveying the piles around her. “I know,” she finally said with reserve. Apparently she had been right on the money about the odd mood that had suddenly surged up out of nowhere. Eliane was just standing there, amidst her neatly displayed chaos and Joanna actually thought the mess was rather endearing, but judged by her stiffly squared shoulders, Eliane didn’t think so. Joanna frowned as she realized what the posture implied. “You’d rather be alone.” It wasn’t a question, and she noted with grim satisfaction that she sounded as annoyed as she was.

“No...” Eliane disagreed reflexively, but Joanna just raised an eyebrow at her. Eliane’s ability to shut her out from one moment to the next didn’t infuriate her for the first time.

“Perhaps I’m a little bit stressed out,” Eliane allowed reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be here.” She motioned at the piles and stacks lining the hallway, one hand on her hip. “I’m just not used to having someone around while I pack for the summer.”

Joanna looked around again. “Perhaps there’s something I can help you with?” she suggested practically.

“No…” Eliane warded her off hastily. When Joanna cast an arch look at her in response, her expression turned sheepish. “I guess I’m just used to doing things my way.”

“You don’t say,” Joanna commented sarcastically, but it didn’t sound half as annoyed anymore. She sighed, shaking her head with a rueful smile. “It is so obvious you’ve never lived in a boarding school.”

Eliane wasn’t sure whether she should perhaps be insulted by that. “How so?”

Joanna gestured at the roomy apartment around them. “Personal space.”

Eliane had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry,” she offered, moving closer. “I don’t really know how to do this,” she admitted with a helpless shrug. “I don’t want us to fight on our last evening. But… -” Again, she seemed at a loss, searching for the right words. “Somehow my subconscious seems to think that if I put just a tiny little bit of distance between us, it won’t hurt as badly when I have to leave tomorrow.”

Joanna nodded slowly. That was the first thing Eliane had said about being pained by having to leave, and to a point that she was trying to protect herself from the hurt she anticipated. Joanna almost sighed with relief at not being the only one who was afraid, but she decided not to put Eliane on the spot. Instead, she settled for lightening the mood. “I disagree with your subconscious,” she stated lightly.

Eliane snorted in embarrassment, her hands toying with the collar of her blouse. “So do I.” She hated to feel this unsettled, let alone about something as ridiculously mundane as leaving for a business trip. “I’m not used to having to worry about something like this,” she bit out, despising herself for being so weak.

“Don’t,” Joanna interjected sharply. “Don’t shut me out now. Not again.”

“I’m not,” Eliane protested. “I’m not trying to shut anything out. I’m trying to sort this out as much as you are – I’m new to this as well!” She had certainly never felt like this when she had to leave Tom behind for months of research. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over a lined up array of shoes, gesturing at a large suitcase that lay open in the hallway. “It’s my system,” she explained, embarrassment coloring her tone. “I carry everything I want to take along out here, so I have the overview. Then I try to cut the amount in half and pack for real.”

Joanna tried to hide her smile at the defensive explanation. It was downright cute. And more so, it was a try on Eliane’s part to let her in yet another bit. Joanna glanced down into the suitcase at her feet, the bottom of which was already covered in a layer of neatly folded socks and shirts.

The few small steps they had to make to come within reach of each other felt like accomplishing something a lot more substantial, even more so when Eliane just wordlessly took Joanna’s hands and looked up at her with a disarmingly crooked smile. She shook her head. “I can’t believe that nobody is going to tease me about messing up the salad dressing for seven weeks.”

In response, Joanna merely drew her close, sighing in contentment when she felt Eliane’s body settle against her own, her cheek coming to rest in the curve of Joanna’s shoulder.

“It’s not that long,” Eliane reassured them both, her voice muffled by Joanna’s shirt.

“No, it isn’t,” Joanna agreed, sounding just as unconvinced.

For long moments, they just stood holding each other, the tension slowly seeping away. Finally, Joanna leaned back just enough to be able to look at Eliane, relieved to see that her eyes were not the stormy gray anymore that they had been only seconds ago. Joanna was completely unwilling to let go of the other woman, reasoning that she would have to do so soon enough anyway. “How about that relaxing bath you offered me on Monday?” she suggested instead.

Eliane’s eyes lit up before they swept across the overflowing hallway. “But my luggage…”

“Eliane,” Joanna said softly, not missing how Eliane seemed to lean into her even more closely at that. “It’s our last evening and you obviously carried all your possessions out here already -” She yelped when Eliane jabbed her into the ribs in protest. “Hey, I’m only pointing out that you can easily finish your luggage tomorrow morning in half an hour. Especially since you’ve no doubt checked all your files twice already.” Eliane’s slightly sheepish expression was answer enough and Joanna slowly moved them towards the bathroom, taking a moment to appreciate the navy blue skirt suit that hung from the half-opened door. “Anything else, you can have sent after you, and you can always buy new socks in Bloomington in case you forget some.”

Eliane regarded her quizzically even while she busied herself with unbuttoning Joanna’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor before she was nudged over the threshold into the bathroom. “Are you always this unfazed when it comes to luggage?”

“I spent my teen years living out of suitcases,” Joanna reminded her with a shrug, letting go off Eliane who busied herself with the taps. “And don’t forget I lived with a group of travelling actors for more than a year. – Now there was a logistic challenge…” She trailed off when she took in the roomy bathtub, thinking that she loved how decadent it looked. The sight of Eliane bending over it to adjust the water temperature didn’t exactly detract from the impression, either. She cleared her throat and wanted to open another button on her shirt only to find herself shirtless. She was trying to figure out how exactly that had happened when Eliane turned back around, the look in her eyes decidedly more heated than before. “What would you like in it?” she asked, gesturing at the array of bottles and bowls lining the rim of the tub as she shed her shoes.

“You?” Joanna suggested, busy taking in the brilliant shade of red on Eliane’s toenails. She must have had that done during the day because it hadn’t been there last night. “Nice red,” she commented distractedly.

“Thanks,” Eliane replied with amusement as she curled her toes into the thick rug in front of the tub. Seeing that Joanna wouldn’t be much help in this, she selected a few bottles herself and poured generous amounts of their contents into the water. Immediately, thick, creamy foam began to build up on the surface, the air suddenly smelling like sandalwood, vanilla and rosemary.

“How bad were the boarding schools?” Eliane asked suddenly. Joanna’s comment about personal space was still ringing in her ears.

“Not too bad.” Joanna shrugged, not looking up from where Eliane’s hands were smoothly unbuttoning her blouse. Past school experiences were the last thing on her mind, especially when she caught sight of the silk camisole Eliane wore underneath.

“Not too bad?” Eliane echoed questioningly, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on Joanna, who forced herself to tear her gaze away and think of the communal washrooms at the boarding schools in contrast to this oasis of lush colors and tempting smells.

“It depends on how you look at it,” she answered finally. “When it came to studying and resources, it was very free in a way. Learning was great. – In contrast, the dorm rules were unbelievably rigid, and you never had any space for yourself.”

Eliane sat down on a wooden footstool, crossing her legs. “What did you miss most?”

“Apart from a room on my own?” Joanna thought for a moment, distracted by the way Eliane flexed her toes while she regarded her expectantly. “Running,” she finally said. “We weren’t allowed to run anywhere in the buildings.” She looked at Eliane, noting how the thin straps of her camisole were threatening to slide down her shoulders. Staring at the soft skin, she only belatedly realized that she could only see the straps of the camisole, and none of a bra. Joanna swallowed with difficulty. “Do we really need to talk about boarding schools right now?” she asked with an edge of despair to her voice.

“Anything,” Eliane offered, her voice having taken on an even huskier timbre than usual. “Tell me something about you I don’t know yet. Something I can remember in Bloomington.”

Since her knees were feeling weak anyway, Joanna naturally slid to the floor in front of Eliane, drawing her down for a gentle kiss that went on for long moments, until Eliane jolted, and hastily reached up to turn off the taps.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Joanna murmured from her spot on the ground.

Eliane sighed and leaned down for another quick kiss that, again, turned out to be not quite so quick. When she moved away, it seemed for a moment as if she wanted to say something, but then she stood up and frowned when she overlooked the bathing arrangement once more. “I’ll get us some brandy.” And she was out of the door, in bare feet and that camisole, the hems of her pants brushing across the hardwood floor.

Joanna needed a few seconds before she lifted herself off the tiles, trying not to think about all the things she would miss out on in the upcoming seven weeks. All the more reason to seize the moment, she decided, making quick work of her remaining clothes and getting into the water.

She was glad she was lying back against the tub when Eliane reappeared in the doorway, two snifters in her hands. She had lost her slacks somewhere along the line, standing there in nothing but the two glasses and her underwear. And a smile, as she noticed Joanna’s expression.

“Get in here.” Joanna had decided that the time for elaborate small talk was over.

Eliane ambled over to the tub. “Hold these.”

With that, Joanna found herself balancing the two glasses that she promptly threatened to spill when Eliane reached for the hem of her camisole. She hurried to place them at the rim of the tub. She was holding onto the edge herself by the time a naked thigh edged past her eyes and Eliane settled into the bath, not across from her, but pressing right up against her with a heartfelt moan.

“Happy?” Joanna croaked, thinking that if the mirror hadn’t steamed up already, it would probably happen now.

“Yes,” Eliane sighed contentedly. She moved to get comfortable, the soft skin of her back dragging across Joanna’s chest. The water sloshed up in between their bodies before it was pushed to the side when she fully leaned her body into Joanna. “The tubs in the teacher apartments in Bloomington are tiny in comparison.”

“Well, you need some incentive to return.” Joanna murmured, her fingers drawn to Eliane’s arms. She watched her fingertips slide down soft skin, into the foam and under the water.

“As if!” Eliane turned her head, pressing a kiss to Joanna’s shoulder before she pulled the wandering hands around her waist. “How was the library today?”

The attempt at everyday normalcy had something cosy, Joanna thought. Aloud, she said, “Crowded.”

Eliane nipped on her brandy. “It’s emptier by night.”

Joanna chuckled into the shoulder under her chin. “I have been kind of busy by night.”

“True,” Eliane admitted, her tone entirely unrepentant. “That’s at least one thing you can catch up on in the next few weeks – library hours.” One of her hands had dropped under the water, stroking along Joanna’s thigh. “Just imagine, by the time I get back, you’ll be Dr. Dr. van de Kreek.”

Joanna laughed. “I hope.”

“I know,” Eliane said, squeezing the thigh under her fingers. “And then, since I’m already missing the official reception, I’ll throw you a private congratulations party.”

“How private?” Joanna asked close to Eliane’s ear.

Eliane shivered when a tongue swept across her earlobe. “Very private.”

Joanna’s lips moved a little lower, trailing along Eliane’s neck. “How about I leave you to your elaborate packing system in the morning and get in a few hours of work at the library, and then come back and take you to the airport?”

“I’m taking the train out there,” Eliane murmured, her head falling to the side under Joanna’s distracting ministrations. She set her glass aside. “I don’t want to leave my car at the airport for seven weeks.”

“I just want to see you off properly,” Joanna insisted gently. “Standing at the gate, waving with a white handkerchief…?”

“All right,” Eliane agreed, even though she was a little dubious. Leaving would be hard enough already and it wasn’t as if they could kiss goodbye melodramatically in the middle of the airport. She knew she would probably want to, but half of Leipzig was leaving into the summer holidays these days, including God knew how many of their own students.

Sliding a little lower, Eliane decided she’d better take all the kisses she could get in advance. She turned half around, her skin slippery against Joanna’s, so that she reached out to steady herself on Joanna’s thighs. She didn’t withdraw her fingers even when Joanna’s arms wrapped around her, holding her securely in place. Distracted by sweet lips covering her own, Eliane barely noticed how the thighs under her fingers tensed, until she felt them give way with a final ripple, falling open against the sides of the tub. She slid deeper into the tub with the momentum, turning fully. A first wave of water splashed heavily over the rim, barely missing the forgotten brandy glasses. She didn’t stop kissing Joanna, though, enveloped completely in cozy, wet heat. Her body felt oddly light in the water, and Joanna’s lips against her own were soft and insistent.

For a long while, the only sounds in the room were their unsteady breathing and the minute rustling of the foam around them. Finally, Joanna couldn’t crane her head any further and hoisted Eliane up by the waist, pulling her level with herself and sending more water over the rim with the sudden move. Eliane only had a brief moment to enjoy the sensation of gazing down at Joanna, skin flushed and glistening with creamy lather, before they lost their precarious balance and tumbled down into the water. At least she came to land on a very comfortable cushion while Joanna came up sputtering, shaking water and foam from her hair.

She grimaced at the taste of foam in her mouth. “Somehow, this looked a lot smoother in my imagination.”

Eliane laughed. “You don’t need your imagination.” A few drops of water were still clinging to Joanna’s lashes and she leaned in to kiss them away. “I’m right here.” At least for now, but she didn’t add that. Joanna’s cheeks were flushed from the hot water, and her skin was damp and smooth under Eliane’s lips.

Before she knew it, they were kissing again, deeply, her whole body pressed up against Joanna, who tried to hold onto the rim of the tub with one hand, barely keeping them from sliding under the water for a second time.

“We better get out,” Joanna suggested breathlessly. She had to steady herself on the wall, almost toppling over their brandy glasses as she stood up, only to find Eliane staring up at her with a dreamy expression.

“This place looks like a pool,” Eliane murmured when she finally managed to tear her eyes away from Joanna and glanced over the rim of the tub at the wet bathroom floor instead. Still, she had to look back just once more, to memorize Joanna like this, rising up to stand, water cascading down her body in rivulets, last bits of foam sliding down smooth skin. Suddenly, she couldn’t get out of the tub fast enough.

They barely managed to towel off, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor of the hallway as they made a dash for the bedroom where they fell into each other, with shaky hands and their bodies still heated and rosy from the bath.

A few forgotten drops of water glistened on Joanna’s back, along the outline of her spine, and Eliane bent down to lick them away, leaning fully into Joanna when she felt her move under her touch, gasping softly. She shoved the covers away with one hand even as Joanna turned into her, and then things were a blur of hot skin and rough, impatient kisses. Eliane couldn’t have said where the sudden urgency stemmed from, only that it was mutual. Perhaps it was the knowledge that this was their last shared evening, and perhaps also fear that things between them wouldn’t stay as they were over the long weeks of separation that lay ahead.

This was skin she had only just learned to touch, Eliane thought, a body whose texture had only recently imprinted itself into her fingertips, and now she didn't want to let go, afraid that the feeling could wash off over the summer. Looking up into Joanna’s face – blue eyes intently locked with her own, glinting in the low light of the room, a bit of a crease between her brows, the stark, chiseled features – the thought of not seeing her for so long made her ache and she pulled Joanna down into another forceful kiss, trying to push everything else away.

For long minutes there was nothing but the two of them, and Eliane didn’t think further than the shifting border between their bodies, grounded by every bite and every thrust, enveloped by strong thighs, feeling safe and invincible under Joanna’s hands.

Oddly, she felt the usual energy and decisiveness wash back over her at that and she was suddenly looking forward to the summer again like she hadn’t in weeks, to Bloomington and teaching and seeing old friends, and to then, afterwards, coming back to Joanna, again and again.

And for one moment, right then, Joanna’s body was her whole world, every curve, every shadow, every edge, full of warmth and scent and pulse, a land that knew no ends, no borders, and that she’d forever discover and explore.

When Eliane fell asleep in Joanna’s arms much later, she felt more at ease than she had all week while Joanna lay awake for a long time, watching the even rise and fall of Eliane’s chest. Through the half-opened balcony door she could hear the occasional car driving by down in the street, and the light of the streetlamps reached dimly up to them, casting a gentle hue across Eliane’s face. She looked younger like this, relaxed in sleep, turned towards Joanna, one hand thrown loosely across Joanna’s stomach.

Softly stroking across the fingers resting on her own skin, Joanna wished she could stop worrying about the summer, about Eliane going away to a place she called home, but which was completely foreign to Joanna, along with people like Louise and Thomas, who knew Eliane longer and better than she did.

She told herself that it would only be seven weeks, and her last thought, wrapping Eliane’s fingers in her own, was that she couldn’t imagine not falling asleep next to her for so long.

*************

The gravel crunched under Brett’s shoes as she stepped onto one of the smaller paths on the South Cemetery, leaving the main driveway behind her. She continued her walk, ambling past faded headstones and fresh wreaths.

Foreign graves hurt less. Sitting by the headstone on the small Thuringian cemetery had always felt strange to her, and she was sure Ines would have laughed it off as well. That had always been more Inge’s– Ines’ mother’s – thing: fresh flowers and plucking out the weed, as if she could gain some control over the tragedy via neatly kept order. But Brett knew there was no control over it, because otherwise, Ines wouldn’t have died. The coma ward in the hospital had been much more of a grave than any neat sepulcher could ever be, only she hadn’t realized it back then.

Brett didn’t remember Ines by a headstone. She did so by other things – every time she walked past a display of striped shirts at a clothing store, or every time she happened upon a really obscurely flavored tea. Ines had had a whole shelf full of different teas in their Berlin apartment, she had even grown the ingredients for a few herbal teas herself.

It had been a while since Brett had last taken a walk across South Cemetery and she still wasn’t sure why she had felt compelled to do so today, but yesterday, when she had thought of Ines, she couldn’t remember what the order of colors on her favorite shirt had been anymore. She had taken out a few of the old photos, trying to remember things, only to find that little details had slipped from her memory and she hadn’t even noticed, not until she had come face to face with the pictures again. When she had cried then, it had been more over this sensation of fading than over Ines, about whom she had sworn that she would never forget even the smallest thing. Countless times she had repeated that vow over the months Ines lay comatose, while sitting next to her on a chair, holding her hand, surrounded by the rattling and beeping of the machines.

She hadn’t thought about it closely in months, but now she forced herself to picture everything again, afraid that the memory was really becoming a memory.

Perhaps it had simply taken that long for her to really come to terms with Ines’ death and to be able to truly let go. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, though.

Even when she had started dating again afterwards, there had never been a question that nobody could ever touch what she had had with Ines. They meant nothing in comparison, just like Sabine in Berlin a few weekends back: a friendly night and a half-forgotten face.

Or like Agniesza. Brett kicked at the gravel with a foot, covering the tips of her sneakers in dust. If only she were less attracted to Agniesza. Having realized that wanting to date the woman was a bad idea still didn't save her from reacting to her. Unfortunately. And just as she had given up on Agniesza, the woman seemed to change her mind, or at least her tactics. Brett couldn’t read her, and it annoyed her to no end. Agniesza not only being friendly toward her, but being actually the more even-tempered one of the two of them was very confusing. And annoying.

She didn't really know what Agniesza wanted, and she cursed herself for still being too curious to just walk away and not look back. And of course there was the whole issue of being attracted to her. It all felt as if she weren’t holding the strings anymore, but as if she were being strung along instead, with no inkling as to where she was headed.

It was disquieting, Brett decided as she turned onto yet another dusty path. She’d have to get some distance.

 

 

Despite the air conditioning, the red fake leather of the airport lounge chair was uncomfortably warm against Joanna’s bare forearms, sticking to her skin where she leaned in the seat. Eliane sat next to her, having moved as close as she could without actually touching her. She was tense after they had run into a distant colleague from the university – Joanna didn’t even know him – at the counter.

There hadn’t been a long line and Eliane had been able to check in her luggage quickly, which left them sitting next to each other now, waiting. Joanna didn’t even know how Eliane had managed to finish packing, but when she had come by to pick Eliane up, the bulging suitcase had been closed, and the apartment looked almost tidy.

Around them, the hall was filled with people going on or coming from their summer vacations, the latter being easily discernible by their tans. Next to them, a few feet down the row, sat a woman surrounded by four small children and an even greater array of bags and packs while across from them, a young couple had settled down. Joanna observed them wistfully, overhearing a bit of their excited exchange as they teased each other about this being their first vacation together. The girl – she couldn’t be much older than twenty – giggled at something her boyfriend had said to her and then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. He moved to place an arm around her in return, and she put a hand on his thigh, happily snuggling into him.

Eliane shifted next to her, and Joanna could feel her leg brushing against her own ever so lightly. That would have to do, as far as touches went. Although what she really wanted to do was to put her hand on Eliane’s thigh and press a kiss to her temple, whispering something in her ear, anything, just to be that close to her. Instead, she said, “Call me when you get in.”

Eliane laughed softly. “It’ll be about 5 a.m. for you.”

Joanna just looked at her. “Call me when you get in.”

“All right,” Eliane conceded and her eyes seemed a little bluer than only moments before. She let her gaze travel down Joanna’s form. “My shirt looks good on you.”

Joanna looked down at her forearms that were left bare by the sweater. The sleeves might have been full length on Eliane, but they were barely three-quarters on her. “I wish I knew where mine went.” They had spent a full ten minutes looking for it this morning between piles of clothes, without any success.

“Mrs. Haeger will probably find it, starch it while she’s at it, and then ask me whom it belongs to when I get back,” Eliane predicted.

Joanna shook her head, but she had to grin at the image. “She’ll think it’s yours.”

“Please – you forgot she saw me in the tub once.” Eliane all but rolled her eyes. “There is no way that she’d believe your shirt would fit me.”

Joanna wanted to add something else, about Eliane’s cleaning lady better not be ogling where she shouldn’t, but the easy banter died on her lips when the lovebirds across from them started kissing. For a first, brief moment, Joanna thought it was cute, but then it just made her angry. She and Eliane couldn’t even hold hands, and that young couple could all but make out in front of them. Why did they even have to kiss, they had two full weeks of beach ahead of them. Together.

All too soon, the call for Eliane’s flight came and she rose slowly, much slower than necessary, purposefully brushing her body against Joanna’s. It wasn’t much, but it was this mere idea of a touch that would stay with her – the soft cotton of her shirt, the palpable warmth of Joanna’s body, the scent of her skin, the fleeting sensation of silky hair against her neck. She hefted her carry-on bag, turning towards the security check.

“Uh… Eliane?” She turned to find Joanna holding out her purse, barely managing to hide a smile.

Sheepishly, Eliane accepted the proffered purse. Their hands touched over the leather and she surprised Joanna by briefly holding onto her hand, stroking across the back of it. Joanna looked at her then, her eyes soft, and Eliane hoped she wouldn’t cry. In the end, she had to settle for a firm, all too brief hug, inhaling deeply and trying to cling onto that transitory feeling – the solid warmth of Joanna’s limbs, her taller frame, the mixed scents of skin, shampoo and her own laundry softener. Eliane had to blink away tears, wondering how she could feel so light and so heavy at the same time.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there,” she said around the sudden lump in her throat and felt Joanna holding onto her tighter in reply, just for a second. Finally, she stepped away and towards the security line-up. She didn’t look up again until after she had walked through the barrier, raising her hand to wave but then halting in her movement when she saw Joanna’s expression. It made her ache to go back around the barrier and hug her one more time. The lump in her throat became difficult to swallow around and the security officer needed to ask her twice for her passport before she acknowledged him.

Joanna stayed until the last flash of auburn hair had disappeared from her sight. She blinked several times against the tears that were threatening to spill over. “Seven weeks. It’s just seven weeks,” she murmured to herself. Her arms felt strangely empty, and she reflexively wondered whether she had brought a purse and forgotten it before she remembered that she hadn’t carried anything. The mild August afternoon was cold against her skin as she stepped out of the building.

The day was clear, with only a few dotted clouds in the sky which looked like bits of cotton wool from above. Eliane gazed out of the window as the plane rose smoothly over the green and yellow fields, hurtling west towards Frankfurt. Somewhere down there, beneath one of the tiny red roofs, Joanna was most likely just getting home, possibly packing up her files to go to the library to put in another few hours of work. And perhaps she was thinking of Eliane, just as Eliane was thinking about her in return. The man in the aisle seat next to her loudly snapped up his table, and she was shaken out of her musings. He was most likely a businessman, another strange face above a non-descriptive gray suit. His politely apologetic smile was as generic as everything else about him and it left Eliane feeling lonely. Leaning back into her seat, she remembered Joanna’s smile this morning, after they hadn’t been able to turn up her shirt and Eliane had eventually given her one of her own – the expression had been full of mirth, unguarded and happy. She was surprised at the rush of longing the memory evoked. It was probably something she’d have to get used to, just like the underlying hollow ache that lingered at the back of her consciousness ever since she had left Joanna in the waiting hall of the airport.

The first flight passed quickly and she didn’t have much time to ponder how she felt before the international flight. Eliane had never been too fond of sleeping on the plane, but she had never minded it much, either. On westbound flights where it remained light outside, she usually stayed up and worked. This time, however, the whole experience struck her as odd, sitting surrounded by people who all wore the same eye masks with the flight company’s logo on it, only here and there interrupted by the green and blue flicker of a screen where someone had opted for watching a movie instead of getting some sleep. It was a stark contrast to how she had spent the past few nights, in her own large bed, with Joanna’s warm body next to her, a thigh thrown across her knees.

Eliane didn’t sleep. By the time they landed in Dulles International for another brief layover, she felt worn-out, but not actually tired. There was the usual tingle of going back home, as well, like slipping on an old favorite piece of clothing one had completely forgotten about, or like entering one’s childhood room after a long time.

The feeling only increased when she got aboard the last plane, in between listening to the Midwestern accents around her, blending into a string of people whose names she could have guessed at just by how they walked and how they were dressed. Outside, the sun had finally set and by the time they touched down in Indianapolis, it was dark. Due to the late flight, the airport wasn’t that crowded and Eliane managed to get through in record time. When she walked out of the baggage claim, she caught herself thinking how nice it would be if Joanna were here to pick her up, a friendly face on the other side of the barrier to look forward to. Shaking her head at herself, she willed the thought away. After traveling on her own for years and only rarely being picked up by an university cab or some research aide or other, she really shouldn’t start getting sentimental and feeling lonely now, especially not when she was essentially coming home.

For a moment, she pondered whether she should switch the SIM card in her cell phone right here and there and call Joanna, but then she decided to let her sleep and call her from the campus apartment later. She’d rather be able to curl up in bed talking to Joanna than still having to make the drive over to Bloomington afterwards.

Insistent ringing shook Joanna out of her sleep and she drowsily fumbled for the phone. “Yes?” she mumbled, disoriented. The digital letters of her radio alarm proclaimed that it was 5:34 a.m.

“Hey…” Eliane’s voice came over the line, sounding uncertain and far away. “Sorry about waking you up.”

“No, no…” Joanna cleared her throat, struggling to sit up in bed. She pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m glad you’re calling. – How was your flight?”

Eliane was quiet for a moment, as if she hadn’t really thought about that yet. “It was fine.”

“Good movie?” Joanna inquired lightly, even though what she really wanted to say was that she missed Eliane.

“I don’t know,” Eliane admitted a trifle embarrassed. “I didn’t even check what was running. – I tried to sleep, but it seems that lately, I’m not much for sleeping next to people that aren’t you .”

It had to be the late hour or perhaps the distance that made Eliane talk like that, Joanna thought, curling her fingers more tightly around the receiver as she sank back onto her pillow. “Are you that accustomed to me already?” she inquired throatily.

The question had been light, almost teasing, but for a long moment, there was no answer, until Eliane suddenly blurted, “Your voice is deadly like this, did you know that?”

“Oh.” Joanna closed her eyes, missing Eliane with a fierceness that was enough to have her fight back tears for the second time over the past twenty-four hours. And this was only the first day in a long seven weeks. She groaned helplessly. “Lil, you’ve got to stop doing this.”

“What?” Eliane sounded confused.

Joanna sighed softly. “Saying such things.”

“Why?” Now Eliane had picked up on the mood and her voice was husky and teasing.

“Because they make me miss you more,” Joanna elucidated plainly. “And I miss you already anyway.” There. She had said it.

“It will be over before we know it,” Eliane said imploringly, before she switched the topic. “Did you get some work done today?”

“Yes, I was at the library until closing hours.” Joanna had to suppress a yawn and she snuggled deeper into her blanket. “It’s really more quiet later. – Thanks for the tip.”

“I should let you get back to sleep,” Eliane stated with embarrassment. “You’ll have to get up soon enough – I’ll call again tomorrow, after I’ve gotten everything organized.”

“I’ll be at the library till late anyway,” Joanna replied sleepily. “And you can wake me up anytime.”

“I’ll try not to,” Eliane promised. “Sweet dreams.”

“…‘night…” Joanna mumbled. The click of the line being cut seemed to echo through her apartment that was suddenly feeling too quiet. “Get a grip, Jo.” She punched into her pillow. “It’s just seven weeks.” The last night seemed so far away already, as if it had merely been a dream – the bath and making out in the tub, and then the unexpectedly fierce lovemaking, as if Eliane had wanted to leave an imprint on her body that would last the whole seven weeks. Joanna absently touched the spot just over her hip that was still a little tender from last night. She hugged the blanket to her, trying to rationalize that half a day of those seven weeks was already over. It didn’t help, though. She couldn’t sleep, even though she was tired, and the bed was suddenly too wide. At least the issue of the unsettling quiet would be resolved by seven a.m. when the construction crew across the street set to work again. With a groan, Joanna pulled the pillow over her head.

Eliane placed the phone on the nightstand and folded her hands in her lap. From where she sat on the side of the bed, she looked around her summer apartment. It wasn’t the one she had inhabited the last few times; this one was on a higher floor and a bit further to the east, but still part of the campus housing complex for guest lecturers and part-time professors. When she had first come back to Bloomington to teach after the fallout with Thomas and her subsequent flight to Europe, she had stayed with friends, but that had proven to be more stressful than relaxing. Eliane now preferred to stay someplace where she could pull the doors shut behind her without having to worry about seeming impolite. The guest apartments also provided a bit of anonymity that she had come to value in the aftermath of her broken engagement. The lecturers who stayed here were less connected to faculty gossip and either didn’t know or didn’t care that she was the professor whose fiancé ran off with her own secretary. By now, the story had thankfully faded into the background and on a campus as large as IU Bloomington, there was enough other gossip circling at any time.

Still, that first year, she had almost rejected the offer of returning to teach as a guest professor. Lynn and Tom had just had their first baby then and she really didn’t want to face the whole sordid story again, but in the end she had squared her shoulders and accepted the offer, determined that Tom would not make her give up her former stomping grounds.

This apartment would be fine. It was even slightly larger than the other one, and had the typical layout for a guest lecturer: a bedroom with a huge office desk in addition, as a private work space, and a living room with a kitchen counter that was big enough to have a coffee with colleagues or a consultation hour with a student. Of course, with her longstanding ties to the Department of Comparative Literature, Eliane usually had a guest office right at Ballantine Hall. She was looking forward to meeting a few of her old colleagues. Most of them she would probably see at the unofficial welcome dinner on Sunday that was a tradition with the recurring summer school teaching personnel like herself.

Tomorrow, she could settle in and drop by the Department and on Saturday, she planned on driving to Terre Haute for the weekend, visiting her mother. With everything planned out neatly, there was nothing more for her to do than fall into the bed she was already sitting on, but in the end she got up again, moving to unpack her suitcase. She reasoned that it was only because her blouses would wrinkle unnecessarily, and not because the apartment seemed so empty and quiet. Too quiet to sleep.

One of the first things Eliane unpacked was – carefully wrapped in a sweater – the photo of Joanna from after the Open Door Day concert. She’d had it framed, and now she nudged her phone to the side to make room for it on the nightstand.

Joanna, looking directly at her, with her brows furrowed, a hand across her cleavage, talking agitatedly at the camera.

Eliane was surprised by the bout of fierce longing that washed over her, by the intense wish to just have Joanna here right now, to merely hear her breathe and fall asleep next to her.

The bed still looked quiet and unappealing and Eliane ended up unpacking her entire luggage, Joanna’s sleep-gravelly voice playing in her head. At the bottom of the suitcase, nudged in between her carefully folded blouses, lay one that was rumpled and it took her a moment to realize that it was Joanna’s missing shirt. Of course. She had slipped it off Joanna’s shoulders on their way into the bathroom, and it must have fallen into the open suitcase.

Carefully, Eliane lifted the garment from the stack and had brought it to her face before she even knew what she was doing. It smelled like Joanna - her perfume and her skin. Like standing in the kitchen with her arms wrapped around Joanna, her forehead pressed between Joanna’s shoulder blades. Like sitting out on the roof terrace in the evening, going over exam questions and sharing a bottle of wine. Like lying curled up in her arms at night, not saying anything at all, listening to the summer breeze moving the curtains in front of the half-opened balcony door.

For a moment, Eliane could almost pretend that Joanna was there, but when she opened her eyes, there was nothing but the shirt that she held gently between her hands. She looked at the photo on the nightstand. Just how am I going to make it through seven weeks of this?

*************

“It would really just be for a couple of hours.”

Brett’s voice stopped Agniesza on the way to the kitchenette for a mid-morning coffee. She glared at the Beauty and the Beast mug in her hand and raised her head a little higher before she took the last few, pronounced steps towards the kitchenette. When she turned around the corner, she found Brett in conversation with Annemarie who was just shaking her head at the psychologist.

Brett looked good, Agniesza thought and then cursed herself for paying such immediate attention to that fact. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t other things to think about. But Brett did indeed look good, in a short-sleeved shirt and loose-fitting linen pants, a few tousled strands of short hair falling across her forehead. She held a blue yogurt cup in one hand, a spoon in the other, and Agniesza felt a flutter in her stomach as she took in those hands. Then Brett’s eyes rose to meet hers and she could actually hear her own heartbeat pick up. This was beginning to become ridiculous, Agniesza mused archly and she fumbled for something indifferent to say, but before she could come up with anything, steps on the corridor made all three of them turn their heads.

Bertha Daniels walked past, acknowledging the group with a nod, but otherwise engaged in polite conversation with Dean Freytag himself who was walking right next to her.

Brett dropped her spoon into the yogurt, staring after the odd couple with morbid fascination. “Why isn't she yelling at him?”

“And what are they talking about?” Agniesza added, her plight with Brett momentarily forgotten.

Annemarie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Scratch that – why is she talking to him in the first place?”

Of course, when even Annemarie didn’t know what was going on, something had to be seriously amiss and from the look on Brett’s face, the psychologist had arrived at the same conclusion. Remembering why she had come here in the first place, Agniesza warily peered into the depths of the coffeepot.

“It’s drinkable.” Annemarie had caught the doubtful look. “With Joanna working at the library and Eliane out of the country, you can actually drink it straight up without the risk of a heart failure.”

As Agniesza helped herself to a cup of not quite as black coffee, Brett picked up the earlier conversation again. “So, could I borrow it this weekend?”

“Sorry, but I need the car myself this weekend.” Annemarie shook her head. “I’m driving out to Saxon Switzerland with my poker group this weekend, hiking.”

“Hiking? Sounds good,” Brett said around a spoonful of yogurt. “It should be a little cooler up there.”

“Not really.” Annemarie stirred her coffee. “The weather is supposed to worsen, but so what, we can sit in the hut and hit the cards in case of a downpour, it’s what we’re best at anyway.”

Brett snorted. “You might be right.”

“Why do you need her car?” Agniesza leaned back against the counter with a hip.

“Because she has a pickup and I need some things from IKEA,” Brett explained, gesturing with her spoon. “Next weekend, then?”

Before Annemarie could reply, Agniesza spoke. “I have a car if you need one.”

Brett blinked in surprise. “You’d let me borrow your car?”

“No.” Agniesza crossed her arms over her chest, balancing her coffee mug against the crook of her elbow. “Not after I’ve seen how you ride your bike. But I could use a few things from IKEA myself and you’re welcome to come along.”

Brett eyed her skeptically. “You sure?”

Agniesza’s gaze was a challenge. “Unless you plan on buying a closet, my car is small.”

Annemarie chortled when she saw Brett’s dumbfounded expression. “I don’t think Brett is in much need of a closet.” She cheerfully ignored the dirty look the psychologist shot her. “And now you’ll have to excuse me, there is an important poker hiking trip I have to organize…”

There was silence until the sound of Annemarie’s office door closing echoed through the hallway, then Agniesza turned to glance sideways at Brett. “Saturday morning? I’ll pick you up?”

Brett took a long, deep breath before she nodded slowly. “Sure.”

 

The phone call interrupted Joanna when she had just come home from the library and settled down with her notes for the evening. She hadn’t expected Eliane to call so early and reached for the receiver with a huge smile. ”Hey you…I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

The voice at the other end of the line chuckled. „Hey Kleintje.”

Joanna swallowed. “Pa?“ She was happy to hear from her father again, but couldn’t suppress the hint of disappointment that it hadn’t been Eliane.

“Were you expecting a call?” Peer inquired. He hesitated before he asked, “ …from your Prof. Darhayne?”

“She’s gone all summer,” Joanna explained glumly. “Seven weeks.” Still, she enjoyed the way her father called Eliane ‘her professor Darhayne’.

“Sorry. That’s a long time,” Per van de Kreek offered uncertainly.

“Yes, it is,” Joanna conceded on a sigh.

“How is work then?” Per asked quickly, clearly angling for a chance of topic.

“Good – I’ve got my defense dates!” Joanna looked at the red circles on the calendar on her desk. “Literature on September 10 th, and Performance Theory on the 22 nd.”

“That’s wonderful!” Per agreed with enthusiasm. “And you didn’t tell me sooner?”

Joanna laughed at the mock accusation. “I only just got them myself.”

“I’ll come,” Per offered spontaneously. “If I can.”

Joanna gasped in surprise. “That would be great, Pa.” She tried to ignore the warm feeling in her chest; she had already been disappointed more than once on that front. “Mother wouldn’t come, would she?” she asked hesitantly.

This time, it was Per who sighed. “I’ll ask her,” he offered after a small pause.

“Okay,” Joanna agreed, trying to sound cheerful. She knew that her mother wouldn’t come.

Per probably knew it himself already. “I’ll try,” he reiterated. “But I can't promise…”

Joanna cut him off. “I know, Pa.” He would never defy her mother.

Per cleared his throat. “So how are you organizing the printing and publishing? Two theses at a time, that has got to be a lot of work.”

“Bjarne – one of my colleagues from the symposium – is helping me with the layout,” Joanna said, playing with one of the pens on her desk. “I just need a publishing company now, and I’m all set.”

“You have to publish it?” Per whistled through his teeth.

“I didn't make the Ph.D. laws here.” Joanna poked the pen into an eraser that was lying atop her notes. “I need fifty compulsory copies if I do it privately, so I might just as well have someone professional do it. Then it’s just ten copies.”

“Hmm…” Per murmured pensively, and there was rustling of paper audible in the background. “Listen, I know this small publishing company – they’re Dutch, bur they have a branch office in Germany – I’ll call them and ask.” There was the sound of drawers being pulled open and shut again over the line. “They publish mostly philosophy, but I know they have a few art titles, as well…” He trailed off, and Joanna just knew what the expression on his face would be, slightly absent, but with a focused frown. “I could probably get a deal on the publishing fees, too,” he offered brightly. Then he cleared his throat again. “I’d like to pay them for you.”

“Pa…” Joanna stammered, uncomfortable and moved all at once.

“I know you don’t want anything given or granted, but I know how expensive this is,” Per stated calmly. “I handset my first book, you know…”

“I know,” Joanna interrupted him. It was one of his favorites anecdotes.

“I’m not trying to buy my way out,” Per said after a moment, his voice quiet. “I’d just really like to do this for you.”

There was another long pause as Joanna tried to organize her thoughts, pride and gratefulness swirling into one another. Finally, she nodded, again close to tears. “Thanks, Pa.”

“So, that’s settled then.” Per said briskly, clearly embarrassed by the emotional moment. Those has never been his forte. “So where’s your Prof. Darhayne, that she’s gone so long?”

“She’s teaching summer school back home,” Joanna explained. With one hand, she tried to pry her pen back out of the eraser. “In Bloomington.”

“Nice campus,” Peer commented, before he ventured on. “How are you doing? You two, I mean?”

“It’s going well.” Joanna said, surprised by the question. She wasn’t used to talking about her love life with her father, especially since they had never really spoken much about emotional matters in the first place. “How is mother doing?” she asked in return, angry with herself that it still mattered so much to her.

“The same,” Per answered carefully. “She’s not talking much about you, although she had a lot of kind things to say about you and your institute at the summer ball.”

“You know why she does that,” Joanna said in aggravation. “Simply because she doesn’t want to admit publicly that I’m not the perfect carbon copy kid she wanted.”

“At least she’s not speaking out against you,” Per reminded her. “She cares. She just isn’t good at showing it,” he added helplessly. “And she didn’t mention your relationship with Prof. Darhayne.”

“I know.” Joanna didn’t know what would be worse – her mother finally acknowledging her relationship, even just with disapproval, or to still have her belittle her feelings and ward them off as pathological.

She asked her father about the weather in Amsterdam, an infinitely safer topic than Jule van de Kreek, and about her grandparents and who else had been at the ball. He looked up the number for the publishing company on the side and promised her to call them beforehand to try and cut a special deal for her. Twice more, he declared that he wanted to come and hear at least one of her defense speeches, and in the end, he promised to call again soon.

After they hung up, Joanna felt as if seated in between chairs – she was happy about his support, but also uncertain about his reassurances that he would travel over to hear her speak and frustrated about his inability to speak up against her mother. She poked the pen into the eraser again.

*************

Agniesza had to own one of the oldest and smallest Fiat cars Brett had ever seen. Her knees were bumping against the front of the glove compartment with every turn, even though Agniesza drove smoothly.

She hadn’t even known that Agniesza owned a car, but of course it was shiny and black, with sable-colored seats, and something golden and blinking on a string dangling from the cigarette lighter. It was exactly the kind of car Brett would have pictured Agniesza driving. Still, she mused as they took another curve, she wouldn’t mind it being a little larger.

Agniesza waiting for her in front of her house, leaning against the car in some thin above‑the‑knee summer dress and absolutely impractical heels, had been an odd sight. Brett knew that she shouldn’t have felt that jolt of excitement then, but she had and there was not much use in denying it. All the more reason not to look over at Agniesza driving whose manicured nails were drumming on the steering wheel whenever they stopped at a streetlight, and whose knees were left bare by her dress, the fabric pooling softly around her thighs.

It wasn’t really the thing to wear to an air-conditioned warehouse. Also, she couldn’t believe Agniesza would be able to carry anything bigger than a nightstand lamp while walking on those heels. Perhaps she didn’t plan on buying anything heavy, or she’d expect Brett to handle that. At least the car was too small to load anything really heavy into it, Brett thought while she cast another woeful look at her knees. She told herself that she had only agreed to this shopping spree because she needed those planters and because Agniesza had oftentimes been so abrasive with her that she didn’t feel bad about accepting the offer and taking over the Hungarian’s Saturday morning. Of course, the most peculiar thing was that Agniesza had offered to help in the first place. Brett wasn’t sure what to make of that.

In the end, she was of course the one who maneuvered their shopping cart through the aisles, but with Agniesza walking ahead of her on those heels, straying left and right to pick up the things she needed, Brett didn’t really feel the urge to complain. They even managed to hold a civil conversation, even though it was mostly about the weather, and pillowcase patterns – Agniesza wanted her opinion – and about what Bertha Daniels could have discussed with Dean Freytag. It was actually far more entertaining than a trip of her own would have been, but Brett didn’t want to analyze that too deeply. Only at one point did she wonder what they actually looked like, driving a cart through the market and bickering about fabric designs.

“This one or that one?” Agniesza held up two different watering cans, a simple silver one and one that looked more like an art object in dark red plastic.

Brett shook her head at the red one. “Nike would throw that one over all the time.”

“True.” Agniesza looked at the two cans for a moment longer and then added the silver one to the shopping cart, not catching the amused glance a passing couple cast at the two of them. Brett did, however, and was stymied for a moment that others around them seemed to perceive them as another couple. She looked down into the cart where their things lay admittedly tossed together as if they would be acquired for a shared household. Agniesza had gotten pillowcases, some supplies for her plants, picture frames and a few kitchen utensils – actually nothing she would have needed to drive out to Ikea for, apart from the Swedish chocolate that they both added at the checkout. In the end, Agniesza really only carried a small bag out of the store while Brett maneuvered the cart with the large planters, chairs and shelf she had gotten.

“Are you sure we’ll get all this into your car?” she ground out, her forearms straining from having to steer the heavy load.

Agniesza just tossed her an indulgent look. “I moved here from Széged in this car. Of course it will fit.”

She was right in the end, but not until Brett had been stacking planters and folding over seats for the better part of a half hour. It would have been a lot easier to just throw everything into Annemarie’s hatchback, Brett thought when she sat down in the passenger seat again, trying to arrange her knees in front of the glove compartment.

“Here.” She looked up to find Agniesza holding out a bar of Swedish chocolate. “Unless that is against your fitness diet.”

“I’m not on a diet,” Brett protested, gladly accepting a piece of chocolate. “I just happen to like fresh fruit, and vitamins are important.”

“So are endorphins,” Agniesza retorted, still holding out the chocolate. She didn't budge until Brett took the whole bar.

Listening to their own friendly bickering, Brett for a moment could understand the couple at the store who had assumed they were together. “Thanks,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Please – I just don’t want you grumpy on the ride back,” Agniesza stated, carefully steering the car back out of the parking lot.

Brett looked at the chocolate bar in her hand. “No, I meant thanks for driving out here with me. That’s really a thing I can't do with my bicycle.”

“You’re welcome.” Agniesza shrugged, accelerating onto the highway. “I’ve been thinking about getting a bicycle myself,” she said after a minute, not taking her eyes off the road.

“A bicycle? You?” Brett asked with disbelief, only to find Agniesza glaring at her.

“Well, I just thought it would be nice to have one, especially now in the summer.” She switched lines, passing another car on their right. “I already looked through the sport stores downtown, but I really don’t know what I should look for…”

“You shouldn’t go there,” Brett interrupted her. “If you want a nice, customized bike, you should look around the small shops in the South…” She trailed off, uncertain if it was a wise idea to offer help and spend even more time with Agniesza, but after the woman had been so kind to drive her out to IKEA, it was only fair to help her in return. Also, it would give her a chance to look at the new alloy rims she’d been meaning to check out for weeks. “You know, Gaby is currently working in a bicycle shop down in Connewitz,” she remarked with more interest than she had wanted to show. “They’re open until four at least, we could check out a few bikes…”

“All right,” Agniesza agreed, smiling at Brett’s enthusiasm and trying to ignore the twinge of queasiness she felt. After all, she had wanted to spend a little more time with Brett and she had guessed right that Brett wouldn’t be able to resist when it came to bicycle stores. So far the day had gone great; they hadn’t argued and Brett had been more relaxed around her than in weeks. Getting a bicycle was a good idea, anyway, and really, how hard could it be to ride those damn things. She nodded. “Let’s just drop off your purchases at your place, and we can go there.”

The gamble paid off immediately as far as Agniesza was concerned. She even helped Brett carry the things up to her apartment, and Brett in return asked her out to lunch. They ended up in a small Turkish take-out place around the corner from the store that Brett wanted them to check out and had falafel and pita and Brett tried to teach her about what to look for in a bicycle by drawing little designs onto the cheap paper napkins that were scattered all over the counter.

The store they finally walked into had an old-fashioned bell over the door that rang when they set foot into the shop. Agniesza at first hardly saw the counter, since all around her was nothing but bicycles, lining the stone floor and hanging in racks up on the walls. She doubted it had been such a smart idea to come here after all, but Brett’s excited smile was too endearing to back out now.

From a door in the back of the store Gaby entered in gray coveralls, wiping her hands on a dirt‑smeared rag. Agniesza recognized her easily by her platinum blonde hair that was again carefully gelled upwards into little spikes.

“Hey Garland…” Gaby waved at Brett. “You finally made it down here for the alloy rims?” Only then did she catch sight of Agniesza and visibly straightened. “Hey Agni… hey Aggie.” She wiped her hands more vigorously on the rag before she stepped closer. “Nice to see you again – what brings you by?”

Brett eyed the bit of a swagger to Gaby’s pose warily. “Don’t get any ideas, Agniesza’s just looking for a bike.”

“Sure.” Gaby threw up her hands in a show of startled defense and took a step back, even though she cast Brett an odd look. “Well then, what are you looking for?” She said, turning to look at the Hungarian. “A mountain bike? A race bike? Or more something like a city bike?”

“Something to use to go from one place to another?” Agniesza suggested helplessly. “I really just wanted to have a look around…”

“We’ll find you something,” Gaby assured her immediately. She peered at Agniesza, her eyes resting a little too long on the hem of her dress. “I’d suggest a city bike – it’s a bit more elegant. More comfortable… let’s see.” Gaby cocked her head to the side, taking another long glance at Agniesza. “What size did you ride last?”

Agniesza blinked in bewilderment. “Excuse me?” Brett snickered and Agniesza short her a dirty look.

“It’s about the height of the bike,” Gaby explained calmly. She stepped up right next Agniesza, trying to compare the length of their legs. “Okay… wow, do you always wear such heels?”

Across the room, Brett rolled her eyes at the scene, but Agniesza didn’t catch it.

“Why don’t we try this…” Gaby motioned at a bike that was hanging in a rack on the wall. She moved to lift it off, but pulled the top of her coveralls down beforehand, probably to have more room to move, but actually, the coveralls looked pretty loose. Only when Gaby reached for the bike in her undershirt, Agniesza realized that it had been a move to show off her arms that were thrown into relief under the weight of the bike. Agniesza hid a bemused smile, thinking again that in some ways, men and women were very much alike, especially when trying to impress someone. Gaby was kind of cute, actually, although she was no match for Brett who was taller and more tanned, and who had really green eyes and also better looking arms. Agniesza leaned against the counter, glancing at Brett. Gaby’s outfit would look better on her, too – the coverall pants would be resting low on her hips, with the small white undershirt tight across her chest…

“You okay?” Brett called out across the room, startling Agniesza out of her reverie.

“Sure,” she agreed distractedly, pretending to leaf through some papers on the counter and then pulling out one from underneath. “Hey Gaby, did you draw this?”

Gaby looked over her shoulder at the paper Agniesza was holding up. “Oh yeah, I’m working on something new.”

“Really?” Agniesza turned the sketch over in her hands. “A new cartoon or a new tattoo design?”

Gaby grinned, walking closer. “Perhaps both?”

“Uhm, hello?” Brett cleared her throat from where she stood next to the neglected bike. “Bicycles, anyone?”

Agniesza dropped the sketch onto the counter, startled at Brett’s cross tone. The woman should be in a better mood, after all they were in a less than pristine bicycle shop with alloy things that gave Brett sparkling eyes. If anyone should be somewhat annoyed, it was Agniesza herself. She looked at the bike in front of her; the frame was maroon with a matching saddle, but pretty didn’t exactly equal trustworthy for her.

“Just let me check the air…” Gaby knelt down next to her, checking the pressure on the front tire and shaking her head before she reached for a small air-pump and handed another one to Brett. “Garland, could you do the back?”

Agniesza gingerly held onto the handlebars while Brett and Gaby were crawling around on the floor, pumping more air into the tires. “All these are not too sporty, and they’re second hand so I can offer you pretty good deals on them,” Gaby announced cheerfully, motioning at the far wall where she had taken the bike from. “If you just want something to ride around town or for the occasional trip out into the countryside, these should be perfect for you.” She looked up at Agniesza from where she was kneeling on the floor. “Unless you’d like a mountain bike now, like Garland has…”

Agniesza eyed her speculatively. There was something in Gaby’s tone that she couldn’t quite place. “What’s so special about them?”

“What’s so special about them?” Gaby echoed incredulously. “They’re like sports cars in comparison to normal cars!” She stood again, drawing a spanner from one of her many coverall pockets. She winked at Agniesza while she loosened the clamp that held the saddle, adjusting it to a lower position. “You know, for wild races in uneven terrain?”

Agniesza turned to stare at Brett who was still kneeling behind her, fiddling with the back tire. “You do that?”

Brett shrugged obstinately, slowly rising from her position on the floor. “Sometimes.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“She broke her arm that way two years back,” Gaby supplied unhelpfully and again, Brett’s stern look was lost on Agniesza.

“I like my arms fully functional, thank you very much.” Agniesza said coolly. She didn't really understand why Gaby was smiling at that, and why Brett scowled at Gaby in reaction.

The psychologist was secretly doubting whether any alloy rims were worth putting herself through this. Kneeling on the floor, more or less at Agniesza’s feet, was not good for her concentration, especially with those impractical heels boring into the floor right in front of her. If there had been any questions about just how light and delicate Agniesza’s dress was, they had just been answered. Thoroughly. She barely would have had to reach out her fingers to stroke across the smooth curve of calf, or press a kiss behind that knee. That Gaby was casting the same admiring glances at the shifting hemline of Agniesza’s dress didn’t help Brett’s peace of mind, either.

“Okay… try this length.” Gaby secured the saddle again, stepped over the front tire and grabbed the handlebars. She nodded at Agniesza, who stood dumbfounded for a moment. “Hop on!”

Behind her, Agniesza could feel Brett coming up to stabilize the back of the bike. “I haven’t done this in a long time,” she hedged, balancing on the first pedal. “Years, actually.” She promptly toppled over.

“Careful!” Brett shouted and barely managed to hold Agniesza by her upper arms as she lost her balance and almost careened into the stone floor on the other side of the bike.

“Easy there.” Gaby straightened the bike again. “How many years ago did you say you rode last?”

“I mostly rode on the carrier,” Agniesza confessed hesitantly. “But it can’t be that different, can it?”

Gaby blinked. “You never really learned how to ride a bicycle?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Brett murmured from where she still stood over the back tire.

Agniesza turned around to glare at her. “Well, it can’t be that hard,” she stated defensively.

Brett just shook her head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Agniesza stared back at her defiantly until Gaby cut in, breaking the tension. “Yeah, I’d have punched Garland if she’d made fun of you.” She pulled the bike out from between them. “Why don’t we move this out in the courtyard? I’ll get a few stabilizers – it’s never too late to learn.” She opened a heavy metal door in the back of the store that did indeed open onto a tarred courtyard and then disappeared rummaging through supply boxes, leaving Brett and Agniesza to look at each other awkwardly.

“You want to buy a bike and can’t even ride one?” Brett asked in bafflement.

Agniesza just brushed past her, unwilling to let her embarrassment show. “Never too late to learn, right?”

Unsure what to make of that little scene, Brett left Agniesza and Gaby to their bike riding lessons and instead looked through the new supply offers for which she had come here in the first place. She always found something she could add to her mountain bike, not because she needed it, but because it was fun to tinker with it.

Laughter outside made her amble over to the door. “No, it’s A-gnie-sza,” the Hungarian just called out to Gaby while she was riding in circles around the woman. Equipped with the stabilizers, she clearly had no trouble riding the bicycle. She seemed to enjoy it, even.

“Uh-njeh-shah,” Gaby tried, sending Agniesza into another fit of bubbling laughter that sounded like a cascade of pearls.

“Better,” she finally conceded, circling around Gaby again. “You might get it sooner than I get this bicycling thing.” The afternoon air had cooled down a little and the slight breeze that was palpable even in the enclosed courtyard played with the hemline of Agniesza’s dress, letting it shift gently across her thighs as she took another circle around Gaby. When she saw Brett, she switched directions, giving the psychologist a menacing look. “If you tell anyone you saw me ride anything with these things on, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Brett surmised that she probably meant the stabilizers and not the heels. “Ooh, I’m trembling,” she drawled as she sat down on the two steps leading down into the courtyard, only then nervously eying Agniesza who was closing in on her position. She barely managed to move her legs aside before a front tire lodged itself between her thighs, bumping with a resounding thud against the threshold.

“Oops. Forgot about the brakes for a moment,” Agniesza offered without any remorse before she turned the bike around and smoothly drove back towards Gaby, braking at a perfectly safe distance.

Brett watched on as Gaby offered Agniesza a hand to help her off the bicycle and then moved to unscrew the stabilizers. They did a few balancing exercises and Agniesza took off her heels, standing in the tarred courtyard in her bare feet and her summer dress, her hair falling tousled over her shoulders, laughing at something else that Gaby had said. It was an image that seemed oddly removed from time.

Agniesza tried to sit on the bike again, this time without her heels. She didn’t fall off, and when Gaby held the bike by the carrier and carefully rolled it forwards, she actually managed to ride for a few meters before she lost her balance and jumped off, safely landing with her feet on the ground. She laughed when she turned around to glance at Gaby. “I’m getting better with this!”

“Yes, you are,” Gaby agreed, blushing under the bright gaze directed at her.

On the next try, Agniesza managed another few meters more, and eventually, Brett joined in, first walking in front of the bicycle to grab the handlebars in case Agniesza toppled over, and of course to have her glare at her, in between the smiles.

“Come on, try to ride over me,” she challenged, running backwards in front of Agniesza.

“That’s more your area of expertise,” Agniesza reminded her, but she picked up speed anyway, chasing after Brett so that Gaby could barely keep up.

Out of breath, Gaby made Brett take her place and push Agniesza by the carrier, eventually letting go so that she would ride on her own. Brett always let go a little later, enjoying the carelessness of the moment, Agniesza’s delighted laughter and the thin fabric of her dress fluttering against her hands if she pushed fast enough to make it whirl up with the motion, exposing a flash of thigh and making her gulp more than once. Two times, she had to catch Agniesza as she fell, holding her by the waist, feeling the quicker breaths resonate through the body under her hands, and found herself distracted by the soft scent of her hair. And once, she accidentally ended up with her hand on Agniesza’s thigh, the dress having slid up under her grip, and she froze for a moment.

After that, she gladly let Agniesza send her over to the ice-cream parlor a few houses down – Gaby had long since put the “closed” sign in the shop window – and then sat on the steps to the courtyard with Gaby where they enjoyed their ice-cream and the view of Agniesza who was, ice‑cream cone in hand, excitedly walking around her new bike. She still hadn’t slipped her heels back on and in glancing at her, Brett could see how Agniesza might have been like growing up, adventurous and just a little bossy, and charming without any pretense. The poor village guys probably never even stood a chance. Brett could fully empathize.

By the end of the afternoon, Agniesza could ride on her own, even if still somewhat shakily, and Gaby had learned how to properly pronounce the foreign name. She was good as her word and gave Agniesza a deal on the bike that would most likely take some explaining to her boss, but Agniesza didn't even realize it, too excited that she owned a bike now.

“I’ll check it over again and then you can pick it up Monday afternoon,” Gaby said from where she stood at the register, handing over the receipt.

“Köszonom, Gaby.” Agniesza smiled and then suddenly leaned across the counter, kissing the startled woman on the cheek. “And thanks for teaching me.”

“My pleasure,” Gaby said, blushing at the unexpected gesture. “And, you know, if you ever feel like taking a little bicycle tour… just let me know?”

“At the moment, we’re with the car,” Brett interjected coolly.

Gaby held Brett back by her arm when Agniesza already walked towards the exit, taking a last glance at her new bike on the way. “Look, I’m sorry” she said quietly. “I didn’t know you guys were back together, so stop biting my head off already.”

Brett blinked. “We’re not together,” she stated irritably. “Hell, we’ve never even been together.”

Gaby shook her head at her friend. “That’s not how you act, Garland.” She looked over to where Agniesza was standing in the open door, smiling into the last rays of afternoon sun. “Not that I blame you – she’s damn cute.”

Brett didn’t really need a reminder of that fact. “Sorry,” she muttered. “The whole thing still has me a little out of sorts.” When Gaby grinned at her in reply, she didn't want to know what exactly the woman was thinking. When she got into the car, she sat quiet for a long minute, toying with the seatbelt before she looked over at Agniesza. “Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t ride a bicycle?”

“And have you make even more fun of me?” Agniesza asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sorry about that.” Brett gestured with her hands, eventually letting them fall into her lap. “I just didn’t know…” But what she hadn’t known, she couldn’t have said.

“At least you can’t tease me about that anymore,” Agniesza pointed out triumphantly. “Now I have my own bike, and I can even ride it.”

Agniesza looked so cutely pleased that Brett spoke before she knew what she was doing. “Well, if you’d like, we can make a little inauguration tour next week after you pick it up. Somewhere out to the lakes, or the countryside, where you won’t have too much traffic to deal with…”

“I think I’d like that a lot.” Agniesza glanced over at Brett, who sucked in a breath at the smile she was receiving, thinking that it shouldn’t feel this good.

*************

“Lil Darhayne, you’re really looking more continental every year!”

Eliane glanced across the restaurant table as she sat down again, making out the man who had lobbed the comment at her. “Get over it, Angus, and fork that steak over,” she called across the general laughter and grinned at him when she reached for her order. Most of the people at this unofficial welcome dinner from the faculty were summer school regulars like Angus and herself, some of them regular IU stuff, some of them international guests. Looking around, Eliane recognized the majority of the faces.

“Thank God it’s just the clothes,” Angus muttered wryly across the table, loud enough for everyone to hear. He was a stout, jovial man in his early fifties with amiable manners who never missed a social get‑together, or a chance to tease Eliane about her position in Europe – for him, it had been the other way around; he was a British native who had ended up tenured at IU Bloomington and Eliane in return generally took great pleasure in needling him about his adopted Hoosier qualities. This time, though, the cheery dinner didn’t really seem to draw her in like it usually did and she was angry with herself for not enjoying it as much. She couldn’t really pinpoint a reason, either – between dinner at Colorado Steakhouse and catching up on the latest faculty gossip that was all the more pleasant now that it couldn’t involve her anymore, she really had no idea why she felt that something was missing. Perhaps the jetlag had hit her a bit harder this time, although she had been fine yesterday, when she had driven over to Terre Haute to visit her mother.

She had helped her in the garden for a bit, the atmosphere between them more relaxed than it had been in years. Emily had even asked about Joanna although she clearly hadn’t wanted to know too many details. They’d had a nice dinner at home, with her brother Frank who had come over and also with Joseph. Eliane had to admit that Joseph, though he was in no way a comparison to her father, clearly cared about her mother, that much had been obvious even during a simple dinner. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her mother dating somebody, but she knew it was just her own queasiness, and something she would have to deal with on her own. Joseph made her mother smile, and she wouldn’t begrudge her a second chance at happiness. At least, she would try to be supportive.

Eliane had left after breakfast this morning, when her mother was getting ready to attend the midday mass. She had been back in Bloomington early enough to stop for a coffee at the house of David and Miranda whom she had stayed with during her first summer school stint. They were her oldest friends in town; she had known Miranda, who also taught at the Department of Comparative Literature, since before she had completed her own MA, having taken a few of Miranda’s classes then. When Eliane came back from her European scholarship with her Ph.D. a few years later and started teaching at the Department fulltime herself, the women had forged a friendship that also included Miranda’s husband, David, who was a lawyer and worked in church administration.

They weren’t attending the welcome dinner, although various other colleagues from the Department were in attendance, like Rohan, who was sitting right next to Eliane. He was younger than herself and she had only worked next to him for a year before she had left. Nevertheless, Eliane liked him a lot. A bit further down the table, she could see Régine who was another senior member of the teaching staff at Comparative Literature, and, two seats away from her, sat her old mentor, Matthew. They had split ways over her decision to accept the European Ph.D. scholarship and their relationship had been the strained kind of polite ever since.

Eliane gazed at her plate, not really enjoying the steak, even though she had very much been looking forward to it. It wasn’t the cook’s fault, either. Joanna would probably close her eyes over every bite, smiling with sensual delight. Spearing another piece, Eliane remembered their evening at the fancy Italian restaurant – their first real dinner date – and how Joanna had had her squirming in her seat with her obvious enjoyment of the food.

She glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight in Leipzig and Joanna had probably gone to bed already since she had an early appointment with Irene the following morning. And even though Joanna had assured her that she didn’t mind being woken up, not when it was Eliane who was ringing her, she wasn’t sure whether she should call her later. It was probably more considerate to let Joanna sleep, and Eliane should be able to cope with not speaking to her girlfriend for a day. She had already been mildly embarrassed about herself when she had excused herself in the garden yesterday, walking around the house to sit on the porch and place a quick call to Joanna, looking over her shoulder every other minute as if she were doing something her mother shouldn’t know. It was like being in undergrad again and secretly calling Louise over the holidays.

And it had felt so good to hear Joanna’s voice, so good that it had been frightening.

Between bites of steak, Eliane tried to focus on what the woman to her left was trying to tell her about her research, she had already forgotten her name again. She was a new colleague, working in the Fine Arts Department and Eliane only perked up when she heard her launch into a story of a recent study on performative strategies.

“My assistant just finished up a Ph.D. on performative strategies,” she offered, secretly musing that it was probably pathetic that just talking about Joanna made her feel closer to her. “But more from an anthropological angle, she did a study on a contemporary commedia troupe.”

“A contemporary troupe?” The other lecturer seemed genuinely interested now. “Really?”

Eliane tried to explain Joanna’s theory as well as she could, but when the other woman launched into a complicated reply, she couldn’t help drifting off, remembering how Joanna had explained those theorems to her in detail, during a lazy morning on Eliane’s bedroom balcony. She had listened with her eyes closed, warmed doubly by the sun on her skin and the low, intent tones of Joanna’s voice. In the end, she had opened her eyes to find Joanna standing over her, slowly bending down to her. Eliane, effectively pinned in place by Joanna’s thighs left and right of her deck chair, hadn’t been able to do anything but hold her breath and arch into the anticipated touch, her fingers slowly trailing up Joanna’s legs.

A polite cough from the young professor shook Eliane out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry,” she offered smoothly, flashing the other woman a quick smile. “The jetlag still has me a little out of sorts.”

She made an effort to listen more closely after that, inwardly berating herself for drifting off into daydreams of Joanna in the middle of what was basically a staff dinner. She felt on edge and adrift at the same time, as if she were waiting for something. For the first time in years, she was tempted to smoke again. Lil, that is a bad habit we left in Paris, she chided herself immediately. Just like stiletto heels on cobblestones.

Next to her, Rohan had picked up on her restlessness. “Did you finally overdose on coffee, Darhayne?”

“Not in your lifetime.” Eliane said sternly, but there was a smile crinkling her lips. Rohan had always refused to call her by her first name, first out of respect, and then it had become a trademark thing between them. She in return had always called him Rohan because her versions of his last name – a veritable Indian jawbreaker – had never garnered more than a slightly pained smile on his side. “Do you know if the fencing halls are open?”

“At this hour?” Rohan asked incredulously. “I don’t think so.”

“Too bad,” Eliane murmured. “I could use the chance to burn off some energy.”

“Too much caffeine, I’m telling you,” Rohan stated amicably. “Or did you leave a lover back home?”

“No, just my sleeping patterns, “ Eliane replied automatically. Only then it struck her that, yes, she had indeed left a lover back home.

Back home? Eliane frowned, wondering when Leipzig, much as she liked it, had become more than a working city among many. She thought of standing in the marketplace with Joanna, listening to the open air concert, of waking up next to Joanna on her pullout bed to have breakfast muesli and black coffee on her tiny balcony and watch the early joggers in the park across the street. She thought of Joanna next to her in the roof garden, in the green robe that was much too small on her, with her feet on the railing, perusing files and planning exams and then tossing the files away and kissing her under the sky. God, how she missed kissing Joanna. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture the touch, Joanna’s lips hovering just out of mental reach.

Eliane blinked and shifted in her seat, her fingers closing around her fork and knife in frustration. Despite Rohan’s best efforts to put her at ease and another few comments from Angus that just begged for a retort, Eliane excused herself early and was back in her campus apartment by nine.

She looked at the phone, calculating that it was about three a.m. in Leipzig. She debated back and forth until she finally caved in, deciding that she’d only let it ring three times and if Joanna didn’t pick up by then, she’d let her sleep.

Joanna, however, already intercepted the second ring. “Lil?”

“You’re awake?” Eliane asked in pleased surprise.

“Yes,” Joanna said, bright and alert. “I’m still up, working on the prospect for the publishing company my father recommended. So far, it looks pretty good to me.” Then, after a small pause where Eliane could only hear her breath over the line, she added in a much softer tone, “And I was hoping you’d still call.”

Eliane smiled warmly. “I wasn’t sure whether I should perhaps let you get your sleep…”

“No,” Joanna interrupted her. “I sleep a lot better when I have talked to you.”

Leave it to Joanna to just openly admit things like that, Eliane thought. And it didn’t sound weak or needy when Joanna said it, so perhaps it wasn’t so pathetic that she longed to hear Joanna’s voice in return. “I sleep a lot better after you tell me goodnight, as well.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the small confession after all. “Still, you need your sleep – you have a meeting with Irene in a few hours!”

“Oh, don't worry,” Joanna said easily. “That’s nothing against the all-nighters my boss keeps pulling.”

“Does she now?” Eliane drawled, sitting down on the bed and drawing her legs up. “Sounds tough.”

“Oh yes.” Joanna sighed. “And she’s damn attractive, too.”

Eliane let herself fall back onto the pillows, overwhelmed by the rush of warmth she felt suffuse her at the tone. “I won’t be your direct supervisor for much longer,” she reminded Joanna. “As of October 1 st, you’re working in Jeremy’s department.” And even though Eliane was glad that she wouldn’t have to worry as much anymore about her involvement with Joanna as something that could be seen as unethical, there was a twinge of regret. And not just because she was losing a great assistant, but because there was some kind of thrill in the knowledge that Joanna worked for her. Eliane ran a hand over her forehead, not sure she was comfortable with that thought. Although with the way Joanna tended to challenge everything, from her syllabi to her source texts, she wasn’t even sure she could claim Joanna had ever been strictly working for her.

“I should probably let my mother know that Jeremy will be my new supervisor,” Joanna stated with bitterness. “So she can start worrying about whether I’m trying to sleep with him.” She chuckled without amusement. “At least she’d finally have to realize she was wrong.”

“Well, I for one am relieved,” Eliane pointed out. “Because I’d have to kill Jeremy otherwise.” She didn’t mention that she was feeling a bit of territorial anger when she imagined Joanna being listed among Jeremy’s chair instead of under her own.

“Enough of my mother,” Joanna decided. “How did it go with yours?”

“Fine,” Eliane replied, somewhat thrown by the change in topic. “We had dinner with Frank and Joseph, who is… well, I can't call him her boyfriend. Her suitor, perhaps.”

“Hmm.” Joanna murmured noncommittally. “Does she plan on marrying him?”

“I don't know.” Eliane blinked. She hadn’t thought out the scenario that far, but given her mother’s values, it was a likely possibility. “Perhaps,” she allowed and then decided to switch the topic. “What did you do today?”

“Sunday!” Joanna exclaimed happily. “No construction crews, I could work at home. I could even do it on the balcony.”

Thinking about their shared times on that balcony, something else occurred to Eliane. “I found your shirt, by the way.”

Joanna was at a loss. “…How?”

“It fell into the suitcase,” Eliane explained. “Probably on our way into the tub. We didn’t notice, and we didn’t look there.”

“There’s not much I would have noticed at that point,” Joanna muttered wryly. “Keep it for me, will you? It’s one of my favorites.”

“I will,” Eliane promised. She hesitated before she admitted, “I’m wearing it.”

There was a surprised intake of breath over the line. “You are?”

“At night,” Eliane confessed, feeling a blush tinge her cheeks.

Joanna whimpered. “Are you trying to kill me?” She heaved a deep breath. “How many days are over now?”

“Three and a half?” Eliane offered ruefully.

Joanna sighed. “Just so you know, I’ll probably die of longing before the first week is over.”

Eliane held onto the phone more tightly. “Believe me, I know how you feel.”

*************

Brett turned around another curve and took in the next stretch of country road ahead. It was lined by trees, with yellow and green fields beyond stretching out under a sunny sky that was tarnished only by thin streaks of white on the horizon. A light breeze tempered the heat and Brett had to admit that the scenery was perfectly idyllic. Of course, it was also perfectly insane, she had to admit with a glance to her right where Agniesza was riding alongside her, in another short summer dress, with her hair loosely tangled over her shoulders in the breeze.

Brett had hedged, remembering her recent decision to try and spend less time around Agniesza, but then the Hungarian had been so enthusiastic about her new bicycle that Brett had been more or less charmed into organizing this little afternoon tour. So here she was, stoically avoiding glancing at those legs or the small happy smile on Agniesza’s face and half wishing she could speed ahead into some inhospitable stretch of wood to race across roots and uneven ground until her teeth rattled and her arms hurt and she simply wouldn’t have the energy anymore to do as much as think about Agniesza.

She had already deduced that riding behind Agniesza, as opposed to next to her, was not a smart idea, not with the sunlight glinting off her hair and her dress shifting across her thighs with every tread and nobody to call Brett on the fact that she was staring. Of course, she noted dourly, she had asked Agniesza to wear something a little more practical for their tour, thinking of shorts and sneakers and a shirt against sunburn on the shoulders. But then, with her complexion Agniesza probably didn't even get sunburned and her vision of practicality clearly didn't extend to shorts since she had shown up at the rendezvous point in delicate sandals and a thin summer dress that seemed oddly familiar until Brett identified it as the one that she had personally washed and ironed after Agniesza had forgotten it at her place – the one with the tiny white flowers on dark ground. Brett only had to look at it to remember what the fabric had felt like under her fingertips.

Next to Agniesza and against the idyllic backdrop of the scenery, Brett felt alien in her biking shorts, skin-dry athletics shirt and gloves, as if she had somehow traveled back in time. They were moving at modest speed, but Agniesza was keeping up rather well since they had left the car traffic of the city streets behind them. Brett had suggested that they could catch a regional train with their bikes and drive out into the countryside for a bit first, but Agniesza had insisted they ride all the way by themselves, saying she would need to get used to the traffic anyway. She had seemed oddly relieved when Brett consented. And she seemed to be enjoying herself out here. She had even brought a little picnic in the basket that Gaby had mounted onto the carrier of the bike. Brett had of course refused the offer to place her backpack there, keeping it strapped on although she had to admit she was beginning to feel hot under its weight. She reached up to wipe the sweat off her brow with a gloved hand.

Agniesza registered the movement out of the corner of her eye. “Getting warm over there?” She smirked, riding a little closer. “Are you still trying to tell me that these futuristic clothes are more practical than mine?”

“Yes, for racing. Not for taking a walk,” Brett scowled at Agniesza who didn’t seem to be breaking a sweat in her light dress that was pressed loosely against her body by the breeze.

“If you need a break, just say so,” Agniesza taunted.

Bret refused to rise to the bait. “Fine.”

They parked their bicycles on the rim of an unmown field that provided a small line of shade and Brett sucked in a breath when she took off her backpack, her shirt clinging uncomfortably to her back. She turned so that Agniesza wouldn’t see it, only to find her spreading a blanket on the ground. It even had the proverbial checkered picnic design. Agniesza had apparently thought everything out.

Brett seated herself gingerly on one edge and busied herself with unpacking the insulated water bottle she had brought while Agniesza took off her sandals and sat down right next to her, blinking into the sunlight.

They had baguette and fruit and Swedish chocolate that was already a little melted. The iced tea was lukewarm, so Brett held out her insulated bottle. “Would you prefer a sip of this?”

Agniesza took it, but sniffed at it dubiously. “What’s this – steroids?”

“Isotonic,” Brett explained. “And I’ll have you know that any muscle tone I have doesn’t come from a bottle.”

Agniesza’s eyes raked over her body, briefly but thoroughly. “I never thought it did.” She ignored Brett’s unsteady intake of breath at that and tilted her head back to take a sip from the beverage. “Mhmm… it’s nice and cold.” She raised the bottle to her lips again. “And sweet.”

“Yes,” Brett agreed distractedly, looking at Agniesza’s hands as she deftly screwed the lid back onto the bottle. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone out here. Perhaps it would have been a smart idea to ask Joanna to come along, especially since all Brett had seen her do since Darhayne’s departure was work for her defense hearings and check her cell phone display every half hour. At the moment Brett would have been relieved to even have Gaby along although the woman didn’t seem able to stop flirting when she was around Agniesza. Brett steadfastly ignored the fact hat she had done much the same for months, enjoying driving Agniesza up the wall. She wasn’t sure what had changed; all she knew was that it was different now.

She looked at Agniesza lounging next to her, picking at a bunch of grapes, her bare legs almost touching Brett’s own. Trailing her gaze down the expanse of tanned skin, Brett suddenly saw a large spider crawling across the squares of the blanket toward her and she instinctively jerked to the side.

“What…?” Agniesza sat up from where she was resting on her elbows. When she saw the spider and noticed Brett’s unease, she simply reached over and caught it gently between her palms. “But you learned gardening,” she then said with astonishment. “How can you be afraid of spiders?”

“I’m not afraid,” Brett muttered. “I just don’t like bugs much.”

Agniesza canted her head to the side, peering at Brett curiously. “You really were raised in the city, weren’t you?”

“Berlin asphalt through and through,” Brett nodded with a grin.

Agniesza smiled back. ”It shows.”

“Hey!” Brett protested, but she leaned back and raised her arms in surrender when Agniesza leaned closer with the spider still clasped between her hands, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t dare,” Brett stated flatly.

Agniesza laughed. “You know I would.” She held her hands poised in front of Brett’s face for another moment, but then relented with a shrug. “And since you know it, where would be the fun in it?”

Brett thought that if the positions were reversed, she’d still find plenty of fun at the image of Agniesza squealing, but wisely kept that thought to herself when the woman carefully sat the spider down a foot away from the blanket and watched it scurry off through the grass and into the field behind them. Most of the time, it was hard to imagine that Agniesza originally came from the countryside, but right then, Brett could see it. In the first weeks of working with Agniesza, she would most likely have sworn that the woman shrieked at the mere sight of a spider before squashing it with her heels. To see her treat the creature so gently was oddly endearing and, unbeknownst to herself, Brett was smiling when Agniesza turned back toward her, leaning in a little closer than before.

“So you don’t really like bugs…” She squinted at Brett. “Anything else you’d need me to catch?”

“Well I used to be scared of dinosaurs as a kid,” Brett replied easily even though the flirtatious comment had caught her off guard. They were skating on very thin ice here and she wasn’t sure that Agniesza even knew what she was doing. Of course the more unsettling thought was that she might actually be aware of it.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Agniesza promised. She didn’t use the chance to tease Brett about dinosaurs. Instead she leaned back pensively, staring up at the sky. “I’m afraid of trains.”

“Trains?” Brett asked, surprised at the non sequitur. “As in public transport system on railways?”

Agniesza just nodded and plucked out a stem of grass that she twirled between her fingers.

“More of trains you’re in? Or trains you see coming?” Brett inquired carefully, sensing that this was something very personal that Agniesza didn’t share lightly.

“More of trains I don’t see coming.” Agniesza kept twirling the stem of grass. “Oh look!” She suddenly held up her hand and Brett could see a small ladybug wandering across her palm. “That means good luck!”

“Really?” Brett held her hand out next to Agniesza’s and watched the tiny animal hesitate for a moment before it stepped over onto the back of her hand.

“So it’s not all bugs,” Agniesza pondered, lightly walking her fingers down the back of Brett’s hand. The ladybug scuttled around them. “There are just some that you don’t like.”

“No, it’s not all bugs.” Brett leveled her wrist, trying to make the beetle crawl up her forearm and away from Agniesza’s fingers. Both the tiny feet and the fingertips were tickling her skin. “Actually, it’s just big, hairy spiders. And, usually…”

Agniesza’s stopped the ladybug’s path with a finger, which it slowly mounted after a moment. “Usually what?”

“Nothing.” Brett shook her head. Usually, Ines had been the one who had taken care of the spiders if there was one in their apartment. And she hadn’t even thought about it until now. She had forgotten. “We better get going again,” she said to Agniesza. “We’ve ridden out quite a bit further than I thought and we should try to head back before it cools off and we get caught up in the dusk.”

 

 

Lunch hour was almost over by the time Eliane left the Students Admissions office where she had been inquiring about two of her students who so far hadn’t shown up to class, this being the third day. One had apparently dropped out after having paid the tuition while the other had mixed up payment deadlines somehow. That left her with nineteen students, half of whom seemed to be genuinely interested in the topic of her course, while the other half was more after the credits. A few of the students she knew from past classes she had taught, and one new girl – a very eager undergrad named Belinda – had even asked her for the German original version of one of the stories they were analyzing. So Eliane had borrowed Régine’s student aide to organize a photocopied version of her own edition over the lunch hour and had in return taken Régine out for a quick lunch and the latest Department gossip that Rohan had been too polite to tell her. The elderly Frenchwoman had been the one who had gotten Eliane the necessary recommendations for her stay in Paris when she had been working on her Ph.D. and Eliane still felt indebted to her even after all these years. Their relationship was very much defined by the fact that Régine had once been her teacher. It was very different from her easy and cordial friendship with Miranda, who was a former teacher as well.

Passing the Auditorium, Eliane stopped for a second to read the show announcements for the upcoming weeks. She smiled when she saw an old Italian song comedy on the program, something from the late renaissance, thinking that Joanna would probably enjoy that. It wasn’t something that would have caught Eliane’s eye otherwise, but recently she seemed to be looking at things through Joanna’s eyes as well, constantly finding something she would enjoy, or that she would have to tell her about.

Eliane crossed the Fine Arts Plaza on her way and then slowed when she took a closer look at Showalter Fountain. She had spent many lunch hours as a grad student sitting on the stone edge, never really appreciating the elaborate sculpture and the way the water pooled over it. Instead she had been busy chatting with friends or catching up on reading assignments just like the students Eliane could see now, sitting there just like she once had. She glanced at her watch before she decided she could spare a minute, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, away from the students. This was something she missed in Europe: wide campus grounds with lots of lush green, detached from the city, and somehow a city of their own. In Leipzig, the departments were scattered all over town and the actual campus was nothing but a rundown paved patio lined by benches that had seen better days.

The sunlight reflected off the water and the metal of the Venus sculpture and reminded Eliane of another fountain, of standing with her feet in the water and kissing Joanna right in front of the opera house in broad daylight and thunder and rain. A familiar ache spread through her chest at the memory, the sensation of longing so strong that her breathing turned shallow for a moment. Only when she had to blink her eyes open again, she realized that she had closed them in the first place, but the image of Joanna, staring at her incredulously with raindrops clinging to her lashes, stayed with her.

Eliane drew a hand through the water, wondering if Joanna was thinking about her like this as well, all the time, at the most inopportune moments. Even when Régine had complained about the salad dressing earlier, all Eliane had been able to think of was Joanna teasing her about messing up the vinaigrette the other week and about how she then had walked up behind her, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck… Régine had looked at her oddly and Eliane, unable to blame it on the jetlag anymore, had murmured something about her students and assignments for the afternoon.

Fact was, she was missing Joanna. Desperately. It was something Eliane didn’t say out loud. Admitting to it would mean to admit to needing Joanna, and that was a weakness that gave Eliane pause. Thinking of someone was one thing, but this constant longing that had her distracted in all kinds of situations, even at work, was something else entirely. Her feelings for Joanna were interfering with her professional life, which was the one thing she had always been afraid of. Much as she tried to compartmentalize it, trying to not think about Joanna was even more distracting than simply allowing it. Eliane didn’t know whether she could be acting any differently even if she wanted to. It was not under her control.

She had to remind herself not to mention Joanna too often. When she was in conversation with one of her colleagues, she often found herself wondering what Joanna would say to this or that. She had caught herself more than once already reaching for Joanna in half-sleep, which puzzled her since they hadn’t even spent that many nights together yet. Joanna occupied her thoughts, but it wasn’t just in a distracting manner – she was also more energized in general and after having talked to Joanna in the evenings she usually got any remaining tasks done much faster than she had anticipated.

Eliane still wasn’t convinced that this intensity of feeling was entirely normal. She had been engaged to Thomas, she had practically lived with him even though they had never officially moved in together, and still she had never missed him like this when they had been apart. There hadn’t been this all-consuming yearning, or this craving for just the simplest touch of him.

Eliane stared at the fountain jets, suddenly having a graphic flashback of Joanna rising out of the water to stand over her, rivulets running down her hips and legs. It had been their last night, when they had taken a bath and then made love with their skin not even dried off yet.

When she had been here last, she hadn’t even known Joanna yet. In fact, she had still entertained the fanciful notion that she was straight. Eliane shook her head at herself and couldn’t help but grin at the drastic change she had undergone in these past months, although it didn’t feel as much like a change than like an arrival of sorts.

So here she was, happily in love with a wonderful woman and caught up in a whirlwind of emotions that were equally exhilarating and frightening. She could call Joanna three times a day, just to hear her voice. Of course, she didn’t want to come across as that needy, not to Joanna and not to herself, either. Still, the evening calls had fast become their little ritual, with Joanna’s sleep‑raspy voice at the other end of the line. The late hour somehow made it easier to confess things, like that she had been thinking about Joanna in the middle of a staff meeting or that she would really like to kiss her if only she could. It also was nice to have someone to talk to at the end of the day. She had forgotten what that felt like, and with Joanna, it was so easy – she understood the trouble with her students, she knew her work and she got all the related little theorems she sketched out on the side when they were discussing some academic issue or other. Joanna simply got her.

It made her remember something that Bertha had mentioned a few months back, that she was missing having someone to tell her day to in the evenings. Eliane hadn’t given it much thought back then, but now she could understand what Bertha had meant. Speaking of which, Eliane made a mental note to try and reach Bertha before she and the kids left for their vacation, both to wish them a pleasant stay and to inquire about things with Paul Lukasz.

From across the water, Eliane caught the students giving her curious glances. With one last look at the fountain, she got up. Perhaps she could find a picture of it for Joanna; the student union carried every kind of IU memorabilia after all. With that, she continued on her way to Ballantine Hall to pick up the text for Belinda before the afternoon lesson.

The job had swallowed her up easily again in a mere four days, but Eliane enjoyed the work. If only she could have had Joanna with her, she would have been perfectly happy.

 

 

“It’s going to rain,” Agniesza stated while they were waiting with their bicycles at a streetlight.

Brett looked up at the sunlit sky, where small banks of white and gray were rising onto the expanse of blue, and then stared incredulously at Agniesza. “It’s sunny!” she exclaimed, pointing at the sky. “Besides, we’re already on the outskirts. There’s no way it’s going to rain in the next half hour!” In fact, in half an hour she hoped to be back at her place, and settled down with a cool bottle of beer and some preferably shallow detective story on TV.

Agniesza shook her head. “Would you look at the clouds? We’ll be lucky if we make it back before the downpour.” She met Brett’s disbelieving look squarely. “ Who of us was raised in the country?”

“You,” Brett conceded. “But I don’t see what this has to do with the weather…”

“Farm girl,” Agniesza interrupted her, pointing at herself before she nodded at the clouds once more. “I know a rain storm coming up when I see it.”

“Princess,” Brett scowled, ignoring the streetlight that had now turned green.

Agniesza nodded regally. “That, too.” With that, she easily rode past Brett.

“You have no idea,” Brett murmured as she sped to catch up. She valiantly tried to ignore the first splashes that hit her forearms mere minutes later. “Oh, great.” Agniesza’s self-satisfied grin was even harder to ignore. “What are you grinning at?” Brett asked gruffly. “You’re getting just as wet!”

Agniesza’s grin only turned broader in reply even as the rain matted her hair to her skull and soaked her dress. “But I was right!”

Despite herself, Brett had to laugh at the triumphant expression. “Yes, you were,” she conceded, blinking a heavy raindrops out of her eyes.

“My place is closer.” Agniesza nearly had to shout over the sound of the increasing rain. “Come on, we have to get out of these wet clothes!”

“Mine are special biking gear! They dry fast!” Brett protested, nervous at the idea of being alone with Agniesza like this, rain-soaked and having to change. She wasn’t about to put her sanity to that kind of test.

“And your hair is special bike gear, too?” Agniesza asked archly, indicating the wet strands that kept falling into Brett’s eyes.

“It’s short,” Brett tried to reason, but Agniesza just tossed her an exasperated look. The rain was cold and harsh against her skin and all Brett wanted was a nice hot shower and a solid roof over her head.

Of course, they ended up at Agniesza’s place, dragging their bicycles into the house floor behind them with stiff fingers. Even Brett needed two tries to close the lock on her bike. “I can’t believe it’s gotten this chilly so fast!”

“Me neither,” Agniesza agreed with chattering teeth, stepping from one foot to the other with her arms crossed in front of her chest. The wet fabric of the dress clung to her thighs, and Brett could see goosebumps raising along her forearms.

“Perhaps it’s the dress,” she suggested. “Every time I see you in it, you end up soaked.”

“Very funny.” Agniesza glared at her. “You know, I was about to offer you the hot shower first, but like this…”

“Ha, as if.” Brett followed Agniesza up the stairs, both of them leaving a wet trail behind them.

Agniesza’s sandals were squeaking with every step. “And just as I was beginning to see the appeal of bicycling…”

“…and now it’s more about the appeal of a hot shower?” Brett guessed.

Agniesza nodded, trying to get the key into the door lock. “Something like that.” She ushered Brett into the apartment ahead of her. “Go right ahead into the kitchen.”

“I’ll try not to drip onto your carpets on my way,” Brett promised.

“No it’s not that.” Agniesza followed her. “The radiator in the kitchen is the fastest.”

A squeak of protest interrupted them when they barged into the kitchen, leaving drops of water all over the tile floor, and Brett looked down to see an insulted bundle of gray fur stare up at her. “Sorry,” she murmured, but the cat just continued to stare for a moment before it abruptly turned and walked out of the room with measured disgust. “I know where you got your attitude,” Brett called after her, but Nike ignored her.

“Careful, if you’re still angling for a hot shower.” Agniesza poked Brett in the chest with a finger, pushing her back against the heating that she turned on full blast with her other hand. “And you should get out of these wet things!”

Brett, focused on the blissful sensation of warmth against her back, looked up with a nervous expression, but Agniesza had already left the kitchen only to return a moment later with a set of towels that she pressed into Brett’s hands. One she had already wrapped around her own hair.

“Of course, if you want to dry that shirt on your back, suit yourself and I’ll take a shower for the next half hour,” she observed.

“You’d leave me alone with an enraged cat for that long?” Brett asked warily. “That’s accessory to murder!”

Agniesza laughed, and it made feel Brett warmer already. “I’ll only be a couple of minutes.” She disappeared down the hallway and Brett couldn’t help but notice how the wet summer dress was still plastered against her body. She only pondered her own bedraggled state when the sound of the shower running intermingled with the sound of the rain against Agniesza’s kitchen window.

One of the towels Agniesza had given her looked like a huge bathing towel, and Brett finally gave up on decorum since the cold from her tight clothes was seeping into her body, making her feel uncomfortably clammy. With one last distrusting glance at the closed bathroom door she peeled her outfit off her body.

A small meow made her jump and she swung around hastily to find Nike staring up at her.

“Thanks for taking that year off my life,” Brett muttered, annoyed at her own skittishness. “Couldn’t you be standing guard instead?” She wrapped herself in the huge, fluffy towel, relieved that it reached almost to mid-thigh on her frame. It smelled of spring blossoms. “Well, at least your mistress has really nice laundry softener,” she carried on conversationally. Nike kept looking at her curiously from her position just inside the door, wary of the puddles on the kitchen tiles.

Brett chuckled. “Chicken.” She dropped her wet garments in the sink, trying to squeeze the excess water out of them. The whole situation was surreal – here she was, standing in Agniesza’s apartment in nothing but a towel, trying to make conversation with her cat. “Perhaps you can tell me why she’s suddenly being such a nice kind of bitchy, hmm?”

It struck her that perhaps Agniesza was so much more relaxed around her because she had found a new boyfriend. Brett tried to reason with herself that it wasn’t jealousy she felt at the image and then disregarded the whole idea as ridiculous. If she had a new beau, Agniesza would have other things to do than go on a bicycle jaunt with an antagonistic colleague who was actually trying to put some distance between them. Brett stared at the rain drawing streaks against the window. She shouldn’t even be here. She should have gone home. But it had been so cold, and Agniesza had promised hot tea with shots and she had looked so enticing with raindrops clinging to her lips…

“You’re doing the dishes? Carry on!”

Again, Brett jumped and turned to find Agniesza leaning against the doorframe. She had her still damp hair braided back and – Brett actually blinked – she wore pants. Jeans, to be exact, that were snug around her thighs and flaring out around her feet, with an elaborately stitched line of flowers winding up one leg in some glittering pastel thread. Brett thought it looked awful, but on Agniesza, it was cute, somehow. She wondered what exactly was holding up the top Agniesza wore; something that was low-cut and light green and couldn’t have had much of a warming effect.

Tearing her gaze away with an effort, Brett focused instead on the damp outfit in her hands that she held protectively in front of her chest.

“I put some clothes out for you,” Agniesza motioned towards the bathroom and Brett couldn’t tell whether the gaze she swept over her at that was lingering just a little too long.

“Thanks.” Brett shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling naked. She only hoped Agniesza hadn’t laid out some patterned jeans for her as well. But when she walked into the bathroom, she barely glanced at the small stack of neatly folded clothes, instead tossing her own into the sink and disappearing into the shower stall to turn up the water temperature as far as it would go.

After her shower, though, she briefly pondered just walking back into the kitchen in the towel. At least that wasn’t as bright as the wraparound skirt Agniesza had laid out for her, with large flowers in turquoises and blues, although it did at least reach her ankles when she tied it low around her hips. She thankfully slipped into a pair of thick woolen socks and a black knit sweater, noticing the suspicious glimmer only after she pulled it over her head. Brett looked at herself in the mirror, thinking that the sweater probably wasn’t intended to fit as snugly as it did on her, but what really distracted her was the line of tiny white mother or pearl buttons down the front and framing the not so modest v-neck. “I look like Miss Petrovsky from elementary school,” she observed. “Or like Mr. Hagen from elementary school in Miss Petrovsky’s clothes.” She was just glad that her friends couldn’t see her – they’d never let her live this down.

Agniesza grinned at her when she came out of the bathroom. “Cute.”

Brett scowled. “Watch it, Princess.”

“Black looks good on you,” Agniesza stated defensively, and from how she glanced at Brett, the psychologist was willing to forgive her the buttons. Then Agniesza’s gaze trailed lower. “As for the skirt, well, it’s not like you’d fit into any of my pants.” She handed Brett a large, steaming cup of tea.

“I didn’t even know you owned any pants,” Brett retorted, wrapping her hands around the cup.

Agniesza shrugged. “I didn’t know you owned any dresses, either, until you showed up for the ball in that killer outfit.” She casually took a sip of her tea.

Brett leaned against the counter opposite her, preening a little at the compliment. “Killer outfit?” She was startled by the look Agniesza gave her in reply, but before she could say anything, Nike protested from the floor, since Brett now blocked the direct path to the food bowls. “Sorry, Nike.” But when she looked back up, Agniesza had turned away already.

She addressed Brett over her shoulder. “Would you like a shot with your tea?”

“Yes, please.” Brett sat her cup down on the counter. She wasn’t much of a shot drinker, but the chill from the unexpected rain seemed to last despite the hot shower she’d taken. She’d expected Agniesza to pour a shot into her tea, but instead, the Hungarian produced two small crystalline shot glasses and then disappeared into the living room.

A soft touch against her calves made Brett look down and she found Nike pawing intently at the flap of her skirt. Brett had to grin – at least someone was as confounded by the garment as she was. “It’s a wrap-around skirt,” she explained, crouching down and offering her hand for Nike to sniff at. “I think it’s designed to flap like this, but I’m afraid it’s not a new cat game.”

Nike brushed along Brett’s forearm and then pushed her head into Brett’s open palm, purring contentedly.

“You’re good with cats.” Agniesza stood in the door again, a slim bottle between her fingers. She sounded surprised. “Did you have one at some point?”

“Yes,” Brett answered, only to be interrupted by an impatient meow. “Not as bossy as yours, though.” She drew her fingers through Nike’s fur again. “Technically, she didn't belong to me, but to my girlfriend at the time, but I guess you could say she was ours.” She half-expected Agniesza to make a quip about her dating someone long enough to share a household, but there was none forthcoming.

“It looks like mine is ready to run away with you,” Agniesza observed instead. She handed Brett the filled shot glass. “Strange. Usually, she’s very picky.”

Brett glanced up at Agniesza with a smirk. “Good to know that at least someone in this household has great taste in people.” She tossed the shot back in one smooth movement.

Agniesza watched Brett’s throat move as she swallowed. “Make that two of us.”

“Huh…?” Brett coughed, inhaling a bit of liquor. “Geez, Princess, will this stuff make me go blind?” she wheezed and blinked through watery eyes. At least the last thing she would see from her crouched position on the floor would be a very nice vision of jean-clad leg.

“This?” Agniesza asked incredulously. “Please, if I wanted you blind, I’d have given you some of the unofficial concoctions my uncle János brews on his free weekends.”

“What was it then?” Brett hauled herself up with a hand on the counter and reached for her teacup.

Agniesza screwed the bottle shut again. “Herbal schnapps. Perfectly legal.” She gave Brett an exasperated look and then tossed back her own shot. She didn't even blink. “Not my fault if you can't take it.”

“Watch it, Poison Ivy,” Brett murmured around a sip of tea, but their banter had lost much of its initial venom. Now it was almost like a game, but Brett wasn’t sure of its rules. Where she had once taken great delight in riling Agniesza up, she now found that simply spending time with her like this, in almost friendly conversation, was something she enjoyed as well. The comfort level was akin to the feeling she knew from other former lovers, like Lou, where old intimacy had left a certain easy closeness behind. Although she didn't glance at Lou’s legs anymore like she had just done with Agniesza’s. And Lou didn't smile at her like Agniesza did just now. Brett stared at Agniesza’s lips, wondering what would happen if they finished that bottle of schnapps between the two of them and got into another heated argument. Too late she noticed that Agniesza had said something to her.

“What?” Brett blinked hastily.

Agniesza was still smiling. “I just asked whether you’d like something to eat? Some hot soup, perhaps?”

“I’d like that,” Brett agreed before she frowned. “Wait a minute – you cook?” She couldn’t resist. “You’d cook for me? Wouldn’t that put the royal chef out of service?”

“Don't get your hopes up,” Agniesza deflected her neatly. “But I suppose I would press a microwave button for you, if it were a life-and-death situation.” She gave Brett an arch look. “I could offer some soljanka. – Unless you’d rather go back out and hunt us a mammoth?”

“Too bad,” Brett smacked her palm against her forehead. “I forgot my waterproof club today.”

Agniesza put down her cup of tea. “Well then, soljanka it is.” She had to walk right past Brett to get to the fridge, her bare arm brushing against Brett’s fingers.

“It used to be my favorite school lunch,” Brett offered a little breathlessly.

“I could never get around the school version,” Agniesza admitted, peeling the lid of a plastic container. “Honestly, I don't know what they put in there, but it didn't belong in a soljanka.” She handed Brett a couple of utensils, gesturing for her to lay them out on the kitchen table. “Wait till you taste this one – it’s my mother’s recipe.”

And Brett had to agree that it was possibly the best soljanka she had ever eaten. She loved the fact that Agniesza dished out healthy dollops of real sour cream on top of the soup, not anything skimmed and low-fat. It was a normal dinner. They even managed to have a normal conversation, about bicycles and the weather and, again, speculating what on earth Bertha could have had to do with Dean Freytag the other day.

Agniesza offered another tea after dinner and Brett didn't decline.

“Under this circumstances, I’ll even break out the good stuff,” Agniesza announced and pulled a frosted bottle from the freezer.

“More herbal schnapps?” Brett asked warily.

“Better.” Agniesza’s smile was challenging. “Polish vodka.”

“And how come I get the good stuff only now?” Brett asked from where she sat with Nike curled up in her lap, the cat purring with lazy abandon.

Agniesza looked at her intently. “Perhaps because I needed a while to determine what I want.”

“Oh?” Brett picked up the iced bottle and tentatively poured herself a small shot. “And, did I pass the secret test?”

Agniesza looked at her cat and the way she was snuggled up against Brett. “You did.”

“What was it? Spending over two hours in a skirt with turquoise flowers?” Brett downed the shot and scrunched her face as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. “Gah. – Are you sure none of this will make me go blind?”

Agniesza laughed at that. “Well, do you have warm feet or not?”

“Don't know. I can’t see them anymore,” Brett groused, but she reached for the vodka bottle and poured herself another small shot. She reached for Agniesza’s glass. “You too, Princess?”

Agniesza was about to automatically say yes, but at the last moment laid her hand atop her glass. “No thanks.” She leveled a serious look at Brett. “I want to be stone cold sober.”

Brett frowned, somewhat taken aback by the harsh tone. “It’s not like I would take advantage of you.” The remark came out more defensive than joking, but Brett remembered only too well the fights that had ensued the last time the two of them had taken things further under influence and she didn't want to go back to Agniesza yelling at her and then possibly kissing her and then yelling at her even more.

“Too bad,” Agniesza observed with a laconic smile. She reached across the table and plucked the shot glass out of Brett’s fingers before she walked around and came to stand directly in front of her. “Because I’m about to take advantage of you,” she stated very lightly. “And this time, I’d like to remember every single moment of it.” And with that, she leaned down and kissed a befuddled Brett on the lips, gently, but with intent.

The touch went on for long seconds before Brett pulled back in confusion. To her dismay, she found that her hands had wandered onto Agniesza’s hips on their own volition. “What’s this?” she asked.

Agniesza smiled down at her. “Well, if you have to ask…” She took Brett’s face in her hands and leaned in again.

“Ha!” Brett muttered, her pride piqued. And then she kissed Agniesza back.

An indignant Nike squealed in protest and then dashed for the floor as Brett pulled Agniesza closer, crossing her hands over the small of her back. Agniesza ended up astride Brett’s lap, inwardly complimenting herself on her choice of outfit. This would have been hard to accomplish in one of her skirts. And it felt so good, Brett’s short hair under her fingers, her breath against her face, her body warm against her own and Brett’s hands now spreading out over her jean-clad thighs, pressing into her flesh. This was the touch she had wanted for weeks. She knew what those hands would look like if she glanced down, large and deft and agile, and she moaned at the image. Brett’s grasp became firmer in reaction and Agniesza let herself sink into the kiss and the sensation of Brett’s tongue against her own, both rough and soft. She was amazed at how indisputably right this felt to her.

The tension between them mounted easily, without a single word being spoken. Agniesza could feel it in the air around them that seemed to simmer, charged with energy. It was in the changed cadence of their breaths, in the shaky exhale when Brett’s palms moved up the plane of her back to discover than she wore nothing underneath her slinky top. Agniesza let her fingers trail lower, playing with the hemline of the skirt on Brett’s hips, skimming across the sharp edges of her hipbones, and the smooth skin on her lower back.

Teeth grazed her upper lip, and Agniesza pressed closer in reflex, hooking her ankles around the legs of the chair. The mother-of-pearl buttons on the sweater she had given Brett got entangled in the seam of her own neckline, but Agniesza couldn’t have cared less, lost in the shared kiss and the overwhelming sense of wholeness the moment offered.

It was perfect.

Until Brett pulled back, staring at her nervously. “I can’t do this,” she panted, her expression helpless. “God, Agniesza, I’m so sorry, but… I just can’t.” She drew shaky fingers through her mussed up hair, jerking under the weight of Agniesza still sitting in her lap. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Agniesza found herself pushed away by uncertain hands as Brett scrambled for her backpack and her sneakers. She pulled off the socks Agniesza had given her, smoothing them out before she lay them down on the counter.

“What do you mean, you can’t? – Brett, what the hell is going on?” Agniesza winced when Brett tried to force her bare feet into her shoes that were still uncomfortably wet. She didn't understand what had just happened, trying to make sense of what she saw. She could still feel Brett’s lips against her own, how she had pulled her closer, but now Brett stood in the hallway, having finally succeeded in putting her sneakers on, and looked as if she had seen a specter.

“Tell me what’s going on!” Agniesza demanded angrily, letting the ire override the nausea she felt. “Wait – you can't just kiss me like that and then run out of here!”

Brett finally met her eyes again, her hand already on the door handle. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go –“

“Don't leave…” Agniesza pleaded, but Brett was already out of the door. She could hear her footfalls down the stairs, hasty and unsteady. Agniesza leaned heavily against the doorframe, listening to the faint sounds of the metal on metal as Brett slid her lock open down in the house floor, followed by the rapid clicking of the spokes when she wheeled her bike out into the street.

Agniesza remained rooted to the spot, torn between slamming the door in righteous anger and sliding to the floor in tears. Ultimately, she walked back into her apartment quietly, with only one question circling over and over in her head – What the hell had just happened?

*************

It had been a week now. A whole week where Eliane had been painfully aware of Joanna’s absence, no matter how much she immersed herself in work or how enjoyable and challenging the work in question was. She was still missing Joanna, but the longing simply didn’t fade into the background. It was like quitting smoking again, only worse. And worsening by the day.

The irony of the fact that she was currently teaching a seminar that was all about an artistic movement that sublimated desire into estheticism – the Viennese Modernity – didn't escape her. She had exhausted herself at the fencing halls in the evening twice already, even beating one of the competitors from the current grad team, but not even the physical exertion had helped. She still felt wired and had dreamt vividly of Joanna throughout the night again, waking up disoriented and with the sheets tangled around her body.

It had been hard to answer Belinda’s sharp questions on repression and sublimation in class this morning with a straight face. Eliane had disappeared into her lunch break with relief just now, torn between chagrin and amusement at her inability to push away the lingering thoughts of last night’s dreams. She clearly wasn’t doing a good job at sublimating her own desires these days.

Right now, another six weeks without Joanna seemed like an endless stretch of time, an amount that her body refused to process logically but instead perceived as insurmountable. Eliane had tried to establish a few rules – she allowed herself to call Joanna once a day, in the evening, after she had all the pressing work for the upcoming day done. Usually, routines helped her focus, but in this case, Eliane wasn’t convinced that anything would help at all.

She hesitated when she passed by a line of phone booths in the hall. A glance at her watch told her that Joanna was most likely still working at the library, so if she left a message for her on her answering machine now, it wouldn’t even be a real phone call. Just a little note for Joanna when she came home later.

Eliane gave in, finding the calling card in her briefcase with embarrassingly few movements. Just when she had finished dialing, a student walked up to the adjacent booth and Eliane angled her body away, moving closer to the wall. Joanna’s voicemail picked up after the third ring.

“This is Joanna van de Kreek. I’m probably out at the library, but any messages from the real world are very much appreciated. Thank you.”

“Hey… it’s me.” Eliane closed her eyes, leaning with her palm against the wall of the booth. “I know I said I wouldn’t do this, but I seem to be unable to follow my own advice today.” She chuckled ruefully. “I have absolutely no excuse for calling you other than that I seem to be going stir crazy without you.” She looked down, seeing the sneaker-clad feet from the student in the next booth and lowered her voice. “I just spent two hours explaining the concept of sublimating desire into art to my students and felt like the biggest hypocrite. I can’t even say I’m calling because I had to think of you because I’m hardly thinking of anything else anyway. I–” She hesitated for a moment. “I miss you. And I’ll…” A click in the line interrupted her.

“Eliane?” Joanna sounded breathless.

“Oh,” Eliane exhaled, momentarily thrown. “I thought you were still at the library –”

“I’m glad I wasn’t,” Joanna said warmly. “I just got back in from the gym. It appears I have too much leftover energy.”

“I know what you mean,” Eliane agreed, her expression sheepish. “The team kids in the fencing halls are probably scared of me already.”

“Impressed, more likely.” Joanna corrected huskily.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Warmth rose up Eliane’s cheeks at the intimate tone of voice. “To them, I’m probably just a crazed old professor whom they’d rather see unarmed.”

“Well, I sure wouldn’t mind watching you from the ranks,” Joanna’s tone became lower still. “The one time I picked you up at your club, you could have had me with just a snap of your fingers.”

Eliane sucked in a breath, trying to remember that she was in a public phone booth with students ambling past in earshot. “It’s probably safer that I didn’t know that back then. I might have tried that right in the middle of the Le Cochon.”

“I wish you had,” Joanna murmured. “Preferably in your fencing garb, weapon in hand, with that grin of yours and still sweaty from your last duel…”

“Joanna…” Eliane croaked weakly, leaning her cheek against the cool metal of the booth partition.

“Where are you right now?” Joanna asked curiously. “Are you on your lunch break?”

“I’m in a phone booth in the middle of Ballantine Hall,” Eliane admitted. “And I really just wanted to leave you a message…”

“I’m glad you’re calling.” Joanna interrupted softly. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“…Yeah,” Eliane agreed. For a moment, there was just the mingled sound of their breathing.

“I started rereading Literature Ego last night,” Joanna confessed on a sigh. “It’s a bit like hearing you give a lecture, but I get to hear it in bed, between my pillows.”

“I could read you a chapter from my current manuscript as a bedtime story tonight,” Eliane offered lightly, while actually, the image left her lightheaded. She made an admission of her own in return. “I keep looking up every time I see a tall blonde walk across campus, half expecting her to be you.” She chuckled at her own delusion. “I never knew how many tall blondes attend IU Bloomington!”

Joanna laughed. “Don’t ask me after how many silver A3s I’ve looked after this past week.”

“Are we being ridiculous?” Eliane asked. She let her head fall forward until it bumped against the wall of the phone booth. “Perhaps I’m simply going crazy without you. – It’s as if my body is distracted all the time.”

“I know…” Joanna agreed on another sigh. “I feel like I’m in withdrawal.” Only after another heavy breath, she added, “From your body.”

Eliane closed her eyes, feeling the heat burning her face. She dropped her voice to a whisper, conscious about the people in the hall and the student in the next booth, and at the same time, not caring at all. “I dreamt of you last night. – It was so vivid I could feel your skin under my fingers even as I woke, and then you were gone when I opened my eyes…”

“Lil…” Joanna breathed, just this side of a moan, before she audibly shook herself out of their shared stupor. “I can’t believe you just said that in a public phone booth.”

“I can't believe I ever thought that seven weeks wouldn’t be that much time,” Eliane countered, sidestepping the fact that it had been an odd thrill to tell Joanna right here and right now that she had dreamt of her.

“How much did we shave off now?” Joanna inquired. “One week?”

“Precisely, one week.” Eliane let her forehead bump against the cool metal wall of the booth again.

 

 

Brett shifted the stem of the large palm a bit more to the side and stared at the damp soil slowly sifting through her fingers without really taking notice of it. She hadn’t gone into the office today, instead deciding to finally assemble her new shelf and put the planters she had bought to good use. It was a long overdue task, so she shouldn’t be feeling as if she was avoiding Agniesza by not going in. She didn’t even know whether Agniesza would have been at the office today; in the lecture-free period over the summer, none of them came in every day, apart from Darhayne, but even the stern professor had allowed herself a day or two off, working from home instead, before she had left for the States. Brett hoped that Darhayne and Joanna hadn’t really sat pouring over student essays and next semester’s syllabus during those days, but knowing them both, the scenario was well within the realm of possibility.

Carefully adjusting the soil around the stem, Brett leaned back on her bare feet to survey her handiwork and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of a hand. She had moved her plants out to the balcony for the task to keep the dirt off her hardwood floors. Once she had moved all those pots back in, she could perhaps take her bike out here and tinker with it some more. Thoughts of bicycling unfortunately led to thoughts about Agniesza and Brett busied herself with vigorously cleaning the leftover earth from around the pot. She still didn’t know how to make sense of the surreal scene from last night.

She hadn’t expected Agniesza to kiss her. They hadn’t been fighting, Agniesza hadn’t even had more than a shot to drink, and yet she had calmly walked up to her and kissed her. It had been completely out of the blue and it had also been very, very hot.

Brett had never been the person to run from a beautiful woman kissing her, and with Agniesza standing over her like that, her skin still warm from the shower and yet somehow still smelling like the sun and the cornflower fields they had passed earlier, Brett hadn’t been thinking much at all.

It had taken her a minute to notice that it was different, that kiss. At first, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint it, but when Agniesza had drawn her fingers through her hair, the touch unexpectedly gentle, almost leisurely, it had struck her - the tenderness was new, the slight hesitancy.

Recalling their previous kisses, in the paternoster, in her office, in the bathroom stall at the ball, drunk in her apartment, they had always been driven, frenzied, more often than not fueled by a heated argument.

This kind was different. Slow. Almost nervous. Agniesza had never kissed her with so much emotion.

Agniesza didn’t just go along with this. She had wanted it. And that had stopped Brett short. She would always have said that Agniesza wanting her in return was a scenario that would be too good to be true, but under that kiss right then, she had felt cornered, with nowhere to run. Just then, Agniesza’s tongue had been brushing her own again, the touch sweet enough to make her melt, right into those hands that were playing with the waistband of that wildly colored wrap-around skirt.

The image of Ines had risen out of nowhere. Ines, smiling at her before she leaned in to kiss her. Ines’ hands around her waist. Ines looking at her with a strangely wounded expression. Ines in the hospital bed.

Not understanding why those images hit her now, and with such an intensity at that, Brett had grabbed her belongings and fled out of Agniesza’s apartment. Now, almost a day later, she still couldn’t shake off the sensation of having done something she shouldn’t have.

*************

The muted snarl of her cell phone’s vibrating alarm tore Joanna out of her reading. She barely managed to snatch the phone off the library table before it skittered fully towards her and over the edge. Glancing at the foreign international number on the display, she dashed out of the reading hall.

“Hi.” Eliane’s voice was dangerously low and cheerful against her ear. It was a tone Joanna had come to associate with Eliane being about to embark on something reckless, be it running off to Venice or putting down Dean Freytag through sheer bluffing in front of the entire faculty committee. It was also a tone that tended to make Joanna go weak in the knees.

“Hello yourself.” Joanna tried to find a quiet spot on the entrance steps outside. “I could get used to your surprise calls. – Did something happen? It’s early for you.”

“Just after ten,” Eliane confirmed. “I’m on my way to class now, after sitting for two hours in one of the most unproductive staff meetings I’ve ever attended.”

“You sound much too cheerful for that,” Joanna observed, the tone of Eliane’s voice sending tingles up and down her arms.

“Because I spent the entire meeting thinking about you,” Eliane admitted. “And now I have ten minutes before my class starts and I wanted to hear your voice.”

Joanna leaned back onto the stone steps, feeling as if she were melting into the granite with Eliane’s words. She gazed up into the blue sky above her. “So, what exactly were you thinking about?”

There was a startled intake of breath and a moment of silence before Eliane relented. “I was thinking about kissing you.” She said it in that same, reckless tone of voice that made Joanna press on.

“Really.” Joanna cast a quick glance left and right to make sure none of the students around her were in earshot. “Kissing me where?”

“God! Joanna…” Eliane groaned in exasperation. After a few moments, she added in a low, soft tone, “Anywhere.” She took a quick breath as if uncertain to continue. “Everywhere.”

Joanna was left with the curious sensation of her stomach plummeting downward, while desire rushed hotly up her body, coloring her cheeks and making her breaths come shorter. The urge to kiss Eliane senseless right then and there was overwhelming and when she looked down, she saw that she had clenched her fingers into a fist in frustration.

“And I’ll have you know that I’m walking across campus as we speak. Surrounded by students,” Eliane whispered. She sounded a little scandalized, but not altogether put off.

“Surrounded by students fits the bill,” Joanna agreed with a look up the stairs where the usual crowd of smokers and coffee drinkers were cultivating their vices. Joanna thought they couldn’t compare to her own.

“Where are you?” Eliane asked curiously.

“German Library,” Joanna replied. “I was trying to get some work done, an effort which you’ve probably just thwarted.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliane offered contritely.

Joanna smiled. “I’m not.”

But the scenario had obviously had hit a nerve with Eliane. “I don’t want to keep you from your work –”

“You aren’t.” Joanna interrupted her. “I’m getting so much work done, you’d be surprised. – I’m surprised myself.” There was no logical explanation for getting that much work done when she had the feeling that she spent most of the time thinking of Eliane and counting the days until her return.

“I know what you mean,” Eliane agreed. “Just now in the meeting Rohan told me that some of his regular students were raving to him about my class; I seem to be doing a good job, even though I can’t imagine how. I’m jumpy and restless and can't sleep…”

“…and you forget to eat, and even if you don’t, you aren’t really that hungry?” Joanna continued. “And actually you are incredibly exhausted, but then at times you can't stop grinning like crazy?”

“This should be filed as a pathological condition,” Eliane muttered darkly. “I’m a well-traveled scholar. Of respectable age. This shouldn’t even be happening to me!”

“It has been filed as a pathological condition centuries ago,” Joanna corrected her with a laugh. “Brush up your Shakespeare!”

“I know,” Eliane conceded with a sigh. “It’s just different when you’re actually on the inside.” Something else occurred to her. “Speaking of Shakespeare, one of my students just invited me to a student production of As you like it this Sunday –”

“The one where he carves her name into all the trees in the forest and she wants to cure him of his passion?” After a semester of exclusively teaching the sonnets, Joanna wasn’t as firm with the comedies anymore. “Melancholy, sleeplessness and love fever. You’ve got to appreciate the irony of it.”

“I’ll have you know that the campus trees are unmarred,” Eliane pointed out wryly.

“ Leipzig is just lucky it doesn’t have any campus trees,” Joanna mumbled. “So, are you going to that play?”

“I think so.” Eliane chuckled. “I got a VIP ticket from my student, who is apparently playing Rosalind.”

“And she invited you personally?” Joanna arched an eyebrow that Eliane couldn’t see. “Careful, she might develop a crush on you.”

“Oh, please,” Eliane warded off the idea. “Not with the bags under my eyes these days.”

“I fell in love with you while you had the flu,” Joanna reminded her pointedly, remembering well how enticing Eliane had been with flushed cheeks and her voice soft with sleepiness. “Don't underestimate the effect you have on others.”

“Speaking of which… I should take a pocket knife with me next time I walk through the arboretum,” Eliane mused in reply.

Joanna laughed, warmed by the sentiment. “On behalf of the local wildlife, Professor Darhayne, I must protest.”

Eliane’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Don't call me ‘Professor’ in public.”

“Would you rather I do it in private?” Joanna inquired guilelessly.

“Joanna…” Eliane’s tone was half pleading at Joanna’s suggestive tone as if she herself wasn’t sure she wanted Joanna to stop or to go on.

Clearly able to imagine what Eliane’s face would look like at the moment, Joanna felt herself slump more solidly against the stone she was sitting on, her limbs warm and heavy with desire. She wanted to hold Eliane so badly right then that she couldn’t fathom how it could not be. “You know…” Joanna sighed. “Most of the time I am fine. Tired and exhausted, and missing you, but fine.” She closed her eyes and could almost see Eliane in front of her, holding out a hand to pull her upright and into her arms. “But then there are moments where I think I’ll implode because I have to hold you or die.”

Joanna’s rough breath against her ear raised a flurry of images before Eliane’s eyes, both past and only dreamt of. She understood the sentiment so very well. Aloud, she asked, “Like right now?”

“Yeah,” Joanna agreed shakily. “Like right now.”

 

 

Agniesza Matysek wasn’t used to being denied. Not by men, and she wasn’t about to let it happen with women, either. But since Brett had fled her apartment two nights before, she found herself in the unusual predicament of second-guessing herself. She didn't think she had misread the signals so badly, after all Brett had suggested the whole bicycle trip, she had been flirting with her during their picnic and she had definitely caught Brett looking at her more than once over the course of the evening. Nothing had even hinted at her overtures being unwelcome – unless of course Brett had moved on and was just trying to be friendly. Agniesza scowled at that scenario, conveniently ignoring that she had been the one who had told Brett that there could never be anything serious between them.

If that was the case, however, it didn't explain why Brett had kissed her back like that. Agniesza slid deeper into her wing chair, adjusting her feet on the footstool. You couldn’t claim to be just friendly and kiss someone like that at the same time.

Agniesza cast an aggravated glance at the coffee table. There, next to a nearly empty package of cigarettes, good intentions be damned, lay Brett’s bicycling outfit. Keeping up with the strange tradition they seemed to be developing, she had washed it and had wanted to give it back today, but Brett hadn’t even been in. Agniesza had been on the verge of calling her, but then decided against it. She didn't run after people who had just affronted her.

It would be so much easier if all she wanted were for Brett to yell at her and then hang up on her. But more than that, she wanted to know what had prompted Brett’s strange reaction, and whether she could have done anything to prevent it. Agniesza wasn’t sure whether she had perhaps moved too fast, or possibly hadn’t made her interest apparent enough. As for the kissing, Brett had never complained about that before.

And if she minded now, it was too bad because unfortunately, that kiss had been perfect as far as Agniesza was concerned, which brought her back to square one of her musings – why had Brett bolted away from that touch?

Perhaps she hadn’t felt it, but with how she had responded, that wasn’t possible. But Agniesza didn't know what had happened then.

Maybe there were some unwritten rules of lesbian seduction that she wasn’t aware of. She had tried to call Joanna about it, but the woman didn’t answer the phone, probably at the library again, working and moping about the absence of Prof. Darhayne.

Accompanied only by the tick of the clock in the corner, Agniesza played the scene through in her mind for the umpteenth time – their dinner, Brett in her skirt, how they had joked about the vodka, the kiss… Short of Brett being belatedly embarrassed by her outfit, Agniesza had no reasonable explanation. And even that would be far-fetched. It wasn’t as if Brett’s bicycling dress was any less bright with its reds and blacks. Agniesza cast another glance at the pile of clothes at the edge of the coffee table. Seeing them among her laundry had been a weird feeling, almost as if she were doing something illicit. At least now she knew that Brett wore really nice underwear, black and shiny and sharply cut. Agniesza frowned. Just how wrong was it to hang a colleague’s bra up to dry in your bathroom and fantasize about taking it off her? Especially if one wasn’t prone to these kind of thoughts because one wasn’t gay?

She couldn’t have moved too fast. Brett moved fast all the time. In fact, in all those months Brett had been hitting on her, it had never gone quite fast enough for her. It was ludicrous to think that any qualms about taking things too fast would stop Brett Garland from going after what she wanted.

Which, again, left Agniesza with the possibility that Brett simply didn’t want her anymore. But try as she might, after all their fights hadn’t scared Brett away, she couldn’t quite fathom what had done the trick now. After Schubert had told her about Ines, Agniesza had been certain that Brett asking her out after the ball wasn’t just for the heck of it. And if Brett wasn’t just the player Agniesza had initially pegged her to be, then it had to have meant something to her, because if it had just been about getting her into bed, well, that had already happened long before the ball.

Agniesza had never felt so uncertain about where she stood with a lover, or someone whom she intended to be one. After she hadn’t found Brett in her office this morning, she wasn’t sure what to do, whether to give her space or to confront her. And yell at her a bit because nobody stormed out on Agniesza in the middle of a kiss. She had to remind herself that she was angry; the worry about what was going on with Brett kept overshadowing her ire.

Nike chose that moment to look around the corner. Agniesza had to smile when the cat put her front paws onto the coffee table and sniffed curiously at the foreign clothes only to then stare reproachfully at her mistress.

“Don't blame me, Nike.” Agniesza protested, glaring back. “I didn’t want her to leave, either.”

 

 

Joanna was about to reevaluate her theory of productivity as she stared at the page of notes she had compiled after her earlier phone conversation with Eliane. In between her notes on classicist drama, branches of small trees wound around the letters, with the occasional capital “E” adorning the trunks. Then there were more initials and even a row of tiny hearts. Joanna arched an eyebrow at her own writings.

In the end, she had given up and gone home, cleaning her apartment instead to get at least something done. Now she could check her reflection in the counter surfaces of her kitchen, but she was already looking at the phone again, wondering whether it might be time yet for Eliane to make her evening call.

They had agreed beforehand that they would not succumb to writing lovesick emails or send excessive text messages, Eliane thinking both of those rather unromantic and Joanna thinking them too distracting – she was glancing at the display of her cell enough as it was – but a bit of old-fashioned letter writing couldn’t be wrong. She ripped the ornamented page out of her notebook and added a few lines before she put it in an envelope and wrote Eliane’s Bloomington address on it. A jog to the post office sounded like a good idea.

The call reached her on the way back, just a few hundreds yards from her apartment complex.

“Hey.” Eliane’s voice came over the line, keeping Joanna’s heartbeat effortlessly at workout rate. “You weren’t on your landline, did the library extend their business hours?”

“No.” Joanna stood hunched over on the sidewalk, trying to take deep breaths.

“Uhm… am I interrupting anything?” Eliane inquired playfully.

“Nothing,” Joanna supplied, still gasping. “I was out running.”

Eliane hummed low in her throat. “Too much energy?”

Joanna agreed. “Something like that.” And Eliane’s tone wasn’t helping.

“I just had tea with David and Miranda, and they asked me what was wrong with me.” Eliane sounded a trifle embarrassed. “Miranda thought I was trying to quit smoking again.”

Joanna blinked at that piece of news. “You smoke?”

“No,” Eliane said hastily. “Not anymore. But I did while I was writing my Ph.D.” She sighed at some memory Joanna wasn’t privy to. “I stopped when I came back to Bloomington from Paris, Miranda saw me go through it. And now she said she’d last seen me as jumpy and distracted back then.”

“Jumpy and distracted,” Joanna echoed, still hung up on the image of Eliane holding a cigarette, taking a slow drag. The evening breeze that toyed with her wet running clothes suddenly seemed a lot cooler against the warmth spreading through her body.

“Yes.” Eliane cleared her throat. “It seems our talk this morning knocked me off kilter.”

“Me, too.” Joanna remembered her illustrated notes. “I couldn’t focus on anything, so I went home early.”

“Do you think this will get worse over the next six weeks?” Eliane sounded uncomfortable.

“Five weeks and six days,” Joanna corrected.

Eliane smiled ruefully. “Still much too long.” She took a deep breath. “David and Miranda might be asking really funny questions by then.”

“They’re your friends,” Joanna reminded her. “You could tell them.”

“I guess I could,” Eliane allowed, but she seemed hesitant. “But Miranda was the one who threw the engagement party for me and Thomas.”

“Did you see him?” It was a question Joanna hadn’t even known she wanted to ask.

“Tom?” Eliane was surprised. “No, why would I? The campus is huge.” Joanna’s hint of jealousy seemed to sail right past her. “I don't even know if he’s teaching this summer. And even if he was, he’s hardly anyone I’d want to ask out for a coffee.”

She had known that, Joanna reasoned, but it still felt good to hear. “So, what are you up to now?” she asked, embarrassed by her bout of insecurity. “Standing date at the fencing hall?”

“I wouldn’t want to scare the kids too badly,” Eliane said on a throaty laugh. “Angus and a few others from the regular summer team asked me to join them for dinner and a beer, so I think I’ll take them up on that.”

“Wish I could see that,” Joanna stated wistfully. She had fond memories of sitting in a pub with Eliane, watching her drink beer and roll up her sleeves.

“Wish you could come along,” Eliane retorted in the same soft tone. “Although Angus would have a field day with us. We’d have to drink him under the table to shut him up.”

Joanna smiled at that scenario. “I’m game if you are.”

“You’re smiling.” Eliane said softly. “I can hear it. I think I miss that most of all – seeing you smile.”

Helplessly, Joanna closed her eyes, overwhelmed again by the same feeling that had enveloped her during their earlier call – the immediate need to hold Eliane close, right at this very moment. She exhaled shakily. “Good thing we’re almost down to five weeks and five days.”

The feeling of need, tightly threaded with the frustration over its impossibility, stayed with her long after their conversation, when Eliane had long since left to have dinner with her colleagues and Joanna herself was trying to focus on the preliminary galley proofs that Bjarne had emailed her. Eliane had promised her to call from Terre Haute the next day – she was planning to visit her mother again – so when the phone tore her out of an uneasy sleep much later, she fumbled for the receiver in surprise. The clock at her beside read 3:42 a.m. Joanna blinked, trying to shake off the fuzzy images of her dream, something about a deserted landscape and trying to catch up with Eliane whose footsteps she saw in the soil ahead of her but who was nowhere to be seen.

She cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Morning,” Eliane said gently at the other end of the line. “Sorry to wake you up.”

“No that’s okay,” Joanna mumbled over a yawn. “What’s going on? How was your dinner?”

“Dinner was good.” Eliane sounded strangely excited. “I was just wondering what your outline for the next two weeks is?”

“You call me at four in the morning about my work outline?” Joanna asked incredulously. “Not that I mind you calling, but…”

“It’s something Angus told me – I need to compare a few things,” Eliane said impatiently.

“I have a meeting with Arboretti on Thursday,” Joanna supplied. “The week after, with the agent from the publishing company, and I need to see Bjarne about the layout again. And then I’ll be at the library and work on my defense speeches. – Did you drink Angus under the table tonight?” It would at least explain Eliane’s strange behavior.

But Eliane didn’t even react to the jibe. “Library, working on your defense speeches,” she murmured distractedly.

“Yes,” Joanna said with exaggerated patience. “Remember the construction crews next door? I can’t really work at home at the moment.”

“So you have to work elsewhere,” Eliane concluded pensively.

“Yes.” Joanna arched an eyebrow at the way Eliane kept echoing her statements. She had seen the woman walk upright out of a pub after quite a few tequilas, but perhaps she had really been drinking a few too many this time.

Eliane was silent for a long moment before she asked, “Could you also work here?”

“…Lil?” Joanna was at a loss.

“Come see me.” Eliane stated plainly. “Just for a week or two.”

“What?” Joanna slowly sat up in bed. “Are you crazy?”

“Possibly,” Eliane conceded over a short bark of laughter. “Certainly.” She sobered. “But the fact remains, you could work here. The campus library is excellent, and my apartment is big enough for two and there are no construction crews anywhere nearby.” Her tone softened when she continued. “And we could drive around a bit and I could show you where I grew up…”

It sounded perfect. In fact, it sounded too good to be true. “Did… did you drink?” Joanna asked uncertainly, tempted to give in to the fantasy Eliane was creating.

“Two glasses of Zinfandel,” Eliane stated very soberly.

“That’s not much,” Joanna had to admit.

“That’s what Angus said right before he accused me of being no fun anymore,” Eliane related wryly. “And then he said – and I quote – ‘Whoever your mystery lover is, you should fly him in, if he has you that distracted.’”

“He said that?” Joanna winced. “Are we being that obvious?”

“I don’t think he had any idea how close he hit to home,” Eliane said with dignity and Joanna could just imagine her bluffing her way out of the whole situation with a cool retort and a negligent shrug. “He was just kidding, and of course I told him it wouldn’t be any of his business anyway.” Eliane paused thoughtfully. “Still, he does have a valid point.”

“You want me to come,” Joanna summarized, still baffled by the half baked suggestion.

“Oh, yes.” Eliane was nothing if not emphatic.

Joanna weakly tried to argue in the name of reason. “Lil, I can’t just go buy a ticket and hop on a plane.” Even though she was very touched. And very tempted.

“And if you had one?” Eliane inquired in a very casual tone.

“If I had one?” Joanna repeated, amazed at the bottomless pit that suddenly seemed to be forming low in her stomach, her heart balancing above the precipice.

“Say you won a ticket in the lottery,” Eliane suggested easily. “Would you come?”

Joanna hesitated ever so briefly before she allowed, “Yes.” Oh, whom was she kidding. She’d probably swim if she had to. Both ways.

Eliane exhaled audibly. “Good, because I already made a reservation.” She cleared her throat. “You would fly in on Monday and I can pick you up after class…” Eliane trailed off, now sounding endearingly insecure. “Would two weeks be okay for you? Could you even rearrange your meetings?”

“Hell, yes,” Joanna blurted. The prospective of holding Eliane in her arms within the next three days was enough to obscure any other thought. Almost. “But you can’t just buy me a ticket!” she protested, hating the feeling of owing someone that much and the knowledge that she’d accept it anyway, just to be with Eliane.

“I can. I just did,” Eliane pointed out, but then she sensed that she couldn’t make light of this. “Joanna – we both know I have the money. And I want to spend time with you. Please. I –” But then all the neat economical reasoning that, knowing Joanna, she had rehearsed in advance somehow wasn’t what she wanted to say. “I need to see you,” she stated simply.

There was nothing Joanna could have said or would even have wanted to say to oppose that. She dipped her head in acknowledgement of her not altogether unwelcome defeat. “I guess I’ll start packing.”

 

When Joanna woke in the morning, she wasn’t sure for a moment whether the whole late night invitation had been a particularly vivid dream, but when she checked her emails over breakfast, a mug of coffee clutched in her hand, a message from Eliane’s account was waiting for her, etix issued to Ms. Johanna van de Kreek attached. The message just read, “I’ll be waiting for you at the airport – I’m counting the hours. E.”

Joanna had to tear herself away from the screen, amazed how one single line on a computer screen could generate such a feeling of giddy happiness. She decided to print the ticket numbers on the laser printer at the institute where she’d have to stop by anyway to deposit some corrected term papers that now, she wouldn’t be able to hand back personally. She wouldn’t even be able to tell Eleonora or any of the others personally since today was already Saturday, and her flight was going Monday morning. Not that Joanna minded hastening things up when it came to seeing Eliane; it just left her with a load of things to do prior to her departure.

The institute was deserted when she arrived and Joanna drifted off into daydreams about Eliane while she monotonously photocopied the articles she would need to take with her to continue working on her defense speeches. She graded the last of her term papers while waiting for the computer to print her corrections on the galley proofs for Bjarne. She wasn’t quite sure what to write in the attaching note, specifically why he would have to reach her in Bloomington over the next two weeks. In the end, she didn’t offer an explanation, leaving it up to him to piece things together or not. When she deposited the term papers on Eleonora’s desk, she wrote a note that was just as cryptic, but knew that Eleonora would probably smile broadly when she saw it.

Exiting the Literature Office, Joanna was surprised to find the coffeemaker running, Brett leaning against the counter in waiting. “Hey – what are you doing in today?”

“Catching up.” Brett shrugged. “I wasn’t in yesterday. Or Thursday.” She saw no need to add that she’d been trying to avoid Agniesza. “And you?”

“I need to put some things in order because I’ll be out of town for the next two weeks.” Joanna knew that the grin she was sporting had to be ridiculously silly. “Eliane invited me to visit her.”

“Did she now?” Brett drawled, before she reached over and wrapped Joanna in a hug. “That’s great, I’m so happy for you! – When do you leave?”

“Monday.” Joanna still couldn’t stop grinning.

Brett whistled through her teeth. “Wasting no time, that woman of yours, does she?”

“Nope,” Joanna proclaimed happily.

Brett groaned. “Cut it, van de Kreek.” She filled two mugs with coffee and hesitated before she offered one to Joanna. “I probably shouldn't wire you up further.”

Joanna peered into the brownish depths of her mug. “From that weak brew? As if!” She nimbly evaded the good-natured punch Brett threw at her shoulder. “Listen, I was wondering whether you could take me to the airport on Monday?”

“I was about to ask you that.” Brett took a sip of her coffee, not finding it weak at all. “I could go with you on the train, if that’s okay for you – I’d rather not borrow Agniesza’s car.”

“I won’t have much luggage,” Joanna reassured her immediately. “Just my work files and a few clothes.” Only then did Brett’s remark truly sink in. “Trouble with Hungary again?”

“Something like that,” Brett allowed reluctantly. “She came on to me after our bicycle ride on Wednesday.”

Joanna coughed around a sip of mellow coffee. “And how’s that a problem?”

Brett stared at the mug in her hands. “Well, I ran out on her in the middle of a kiss, for starters.”

“You. Bolting. While a beautiful woman you’re attracted to kisses you,” Joanna summarized slowly. She gave Brett a long, scrutinizing look. “You’ll have to explain that,” she stated with deceptive calm. “Or I’ll have to assume you’re a pod person.”

“I don't know what happened!” Brett was at a loss herself. “I suddenly saw Ines. It was the most vivid flashback. And I just bailed out of there. I felt as if I were cheating on her.”

Joanna took another sip of coffee. “On Agniesza or on Ines?”

“On Ines!” Brett clarified with vehemence. “And I don't even know why!”

Joanna arched an eyebrow at that. “Because, finally, something could happen for real?” she suggested impatiently. “Because Agniesza could be the next Mrs. Garland? Because this on‑and‑off‑again thing you two have been cultivating could go somewhere after all?”

“No way…” Brett stuttered. “They’re so completely different, like day and night.”

Joanna didn't see the point. “So what?”

“I can't do it.” Brett shook her head, her expression one of chagrin. “It’s ridiculous, really. It’s been more than five years, I thought I was long over it. And now I realize I still can’t do it.”

“There’s no timeline for it,” Joanna offered helplessly. “And if you feel you can’t do this, for whatever reasons, then you can’t.” She cleared her throat. “I suggest you try to clear things up with Agniesza, though, before she turns the institute into a war zone. You know what they say about women scorned and you know how mad she used to get when she didn't even want you yet.”

Brett nodded contritely. “I’m surprised she didn't rip my head off by now.”

“Perhaps you really hurt her,” Joanna suggested after a moment.

“Shit.” Brett set down her coffee and raked her hands through her hair. “I have to stop this before something happens.”

“Too late,” Joanna observed. “She already decided to give you a chance, and you discovered you can't take one yet.”

“How was I supposed to see this coming?” Brett complained, still stupefied at the turn of events.

“Weren’t there any hints?” Joanna didn’t understand it, either. From how Agniesza had seemed when they had their little talk at the café, she would have expected the woman to go about things in her usual straightforward manner. “You spent a lot of private time together recently,” she pointed out. “Shopping, getting her a bike, going on a tour with it…”

“Shit.” Brett blanched under her tan. “I thought we were just being friendly, after she made it abundantly clear to me there could never be anything serious between us. I was just beginning to think that she was right. And we finally got along better.”

“Seems she reconsidered,” Joanna noted. She cleared her throat. “You have to admit there is a certain irony to this mutual U‑turn.”

“Cute, Jo.” Brett glowered at her friend who seemed unperturbed.

“And apropos of ‘friendly’…” Joanna regarded Brett with an arched brow. “Is that what you call the way you look at her legs when you think she isn’t watching?”

Brett’s glower turned into veritable scowl. She knew that her feelings for Agniesza weren’t entirely friendly, but what they were instead, she couldn’t have said.

“Talk to her,” Joanna repeated gently. “And then call me so I can come pick up what’s left of you and take you out for drinks.”

Brett sighed. “Deal.” She picked up her coffee again and headed back towards her office. Just before she closed the door she turned around once more. “You’ll be in for quite a few drinks, just so you know.”

“Fine by me,” Joanna replied, raising her crossed fingers in a gesture of support. Steps down the hallway drew her attention into the other direction and she leaned forward to see Bertha Daniels walking towards her with a large stack of files under her arm. “Joanna – not you as well?” The sociologist offered a wave with her free hand. “I can't believe everyone is in today! Philippe left when I arrived earlier, and I passed Viola outside in the hall just now –”

“Brett is working, as well,” Joanna supplied, nodding toward the psychologist’s office.

“Lil would be so touched by this sudden spike in work ethics,” Bertha observed dryly. “Of course, it could also mean that everyone of us needs to get a life.” She looked down at the files stacked under her arm. “One that doesn’t involve quite so many term papers.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be on vacation already?” Joanna asked, continuing to sip on her coffee. Eliane had mentioned that Bertha and her kids were planning a camping trip up North to the lakes.

“As of Monday,” Bertha said with a smile. “Which is why I need to drop these off today. And then, two weeks of nothing but lakes and woods and uninterrupted time with my children. No bureaucracy, no office phone, no board meetings.” She took another look at the bulging heap of paper under her arm before she deposited it on the counter and reached for a bag of tea from the shelf. “And no term papers.”

“Sounds just about perfect,” Joanna conceded. She reached behind her to flip the switch on the electric kettle.

“The joys of having a personal life,” Bertha hummed, while she artfully knotted the string of her teabag around the handle of a mug. “Speaking of which, how is our dear institute director doing? – I spoke to her last week, but I’m sure your information is much more recent.”

“Fine,” Joanna coughed, having inhaled a bit of coffee at the nonchalant question. “She’s visiting her mother again this weekend.” She glanced down into her mug. “Also, I’m flying over on Monday to visit her for the next two weeks. She invited me to stay with her.”

“Well, well!” Bertha grinned broadly. “Good ol’ Coffee. I knew she had it in her somewhere!”

Joanna felt a blush rise up her cheeks at the frank appraisal. “She called last night and asked me whether I could work on my defense speeches someplace other than Leipzig. And when I said I could, she asked me to come over. She had the ticket reserved already.”

“I hope you’re not planning on getting too much work done while you’re there,” Bertha commented, not really succeeding in hiding her smirk. She patted the newly coughing Joanna on the back.

“Eliane is busy teaching and I really need to work on those speeches,” Joanna defended the two of them, even though she knew it was probably a moot point.

“Right, and you’re flying over there just so the two of you can correct some term papers together,” Bertha added sardonically. She reached for the kettle and poured the boiling water over her teabag. “I want to see you back here in a few weeks with a smile on your face, not with your defense speeches ready to print weeks in advance, all right?” She picked up her files again, balancing the tea mug on top and left a bemused Joanna in the kitchenette. “Oh, and send me a postcard,” she called back over her shoulder. “…if you find the time!”

Joanna made a mental note to write that card as soon as she got there, afraid she’d never hear the end of it otherwise. She picked up her coffee and mentally encircled the next item on her to do list: rearranging her meetings with the publisher and with Prof. Arboretti from Performance Studies. When she hurried out of the institute half an hour later – the publisher had been more understanding than expected, but Arboretti had not been amused – Joanna was so engrossed in her photocopied material that she didn’t see Agniesza enter the building just as she exited.

Agniesza briefly contemplated calling after Joanna, but then decided to face the upcoming conversation without any additional advice. It wasn’t as if Joanna’s suggestion of making an effort and trying to ask Brett out had really helped so far. No, instead people had started running out on her, leaving nothing behind but their laundry!

By the time she reached the institute’s department for Psychology, Agniesza had worked up a good steam and she pushed the door open without knocking, intent on giving Brett a piece of her mind before the woman even knew what hit her. She stopped short, though, when she saw Brett glance up at her from where she was seated behind her desk. The woman looked both exhausted and contrite in a way that made Agniesza release the breath she had already drawn to yell. Instead, she shut the door behind her quietly and walked closer, depositing the neatly folded bicycle outfit on the edge of Brett’s desk. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she stated quietly, sliding the clothes across the surface.

Thrown by the unexpected calm, Brett leaned back. “How did you even know I was in today?”

Agniesza shook her head, noting how annoyance and defensiveness seemed to blend into each other in Brett’s pose, and something else that she couldn’t quite name, but which kept her wanting to find out what was going on instead of just yelling and storming off. “You already called Gaby at the bicycle shop this morning about something that involves alloy, and you mentioned you were here.”

“You called Gaby?” Brett inquired angrily.

“The shop number is on my receipt?” Agniesza said with exaggerated patience. Luck had it that Gaby was also working this Saturday and had known where Brett was.

“Of course,” Brett conceded coolly. She didn't like being spied on. “And she told you?”

“No.” Agniesza crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I told her that you and I had some unfinished business, and she agreed.”

Brett could only blink at that. “You told her…what happened?”

“Scared to lose your reputation?” Agniesza asked archly. “No, I didn’t tell her!” She looked at Brett with exasperation. “I couldn’t, even if I had wanted to, because I don't know what happened.” Moving closer, she leaned against Brett’s desk, her expression more one of puzzlement than of ire. “Why did you run away?”

“Do I owe you an explanation?” Brett queried defiantly, hating feeling cornered when she herself didn't even know the answers that lay somewhere between the long untouched realm of her history with Ines, and the way she couldn’t stop thinking of Agniesza.

“Let me think.” Agniesza tipped the points off on her fingers. “You, running out on me, in the middle of a kiss… yes, you do.”

Brett squirmed under the expectant look directed at her. “It wasn’t about you,” she offered reluctantly. Talking about Ines with Agniesza seemed wrong, as if she were mixing something she shouldn’t.

“It should have been,” Agniesza said quietly. “After all, it was me you were kissing.”

“How come you’re not yelling at me?” Brett frowned suspiciously, glad to be able to shift her thoughts away from herself for the moment.

“I don't know. I’m surprising myself, as well.” Agniesza canted her head to the side, looking down at Brett who still eyed her distrustfully. She opted for frankness. “But yelling wouldn’t get me anywhere and while I am angry – and don't get me wrong, I am mad at you – I’d like to know why you did it. Why you ran.” She shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t think it was my fault.”

“I told you, it wasn’t about you,” Brett repeated, avoiding looking Agniesza in the eye. She had learned how to deal with the woman when she was ranting and raging, but to see her so calm and understanding unsettled her in return. She was supposed to be the calm one. She was the psychologist, after all.

“So…?” Agniesza prompted and part of her wished that Brett would blame her, so she could fight back and vent her frustration.

“Look… it’s very personal.” Brett wasn’t sure how to begin.

“And making out with me isn’t?” Agniesza bit out immediately, but gestured for Brett to go on when she looked up sharply.

“Bottom line is, I had a relationship that I’m not over yet. – And yes, I know how that sounds, especially coming from me.” Brett held up a hand to stall any interruption on Agniesza’s part. “And I don't mean to imply that I haven’t been dating since then or lived celibate in any way, but I haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since. A few months here or there at most.” She gestured between Agniesza and herself. “And that thing with us – now that we’re not just fighting or making out…”

“…or both,” Agniesza interjected, thinking wistfully of their earlier clashes. Things had been so much easier when all it took to get a kiss were a few heated insults.

Brett continued to helplessly gesture at Agniesza. “And now you’re suddenly considerate, and friendly…”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Agniesza observed accusingly. “Do you know how much work that is?” She raised her hands in defense when Brett glared at her over the interruption. “All right, all right! Go on.”

“It is blurring a line for me,” Brett tried to explain. “I thought I was long over what happened back then, but when we were in your kitchen and you were kissing me, I suddenly saw her – ” Brett vehemently shook her head at the memory. “I felt like I was cheating on her.” She looked up at Agniesza, her expression sad and tired. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do this.”

“You won’t even try?” Agniesza was incredulous. “But you kissed me back. – Among other things!” Seeing how Brett seemed to shrink into her seat at that, Agniesza tried to reign in her temper. “I’m not trying to replace Ines,” she stated quietly after a moment.

“You know?” Brett reared up. “Who told you about her?”

Agniesza stepped back from the table. “Schubert.”

Brett angrily slapped her hand against the surface of the desk. “Damn her.”

“She was just looking out for you,” Agniesza said sharply. “And I’m glad she told me. Because otherwise I would be yelling at you already!” Realizing that her tone wasn’t far from it even now, Agniesza took a few calming breaths. “I’m not trying to intrude on your past with Ines, or to push anyone away. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t want to. I’m just saying if there’s another chance…” She trailed off, shy to put the possibility she had thought lay so clearly between them into words. “Granted, I may not be what you expected to find and, trust me, you’re not what I was expecting, either, but… I’d be willing to try.”

“Shit.” Brett stood half across the room, unable to deal with Agniesza like this, taking a chance where she couldn’t. She would have liked to yell at her for making her feel guilty. “I’m really, really sorry, but I can’t,” she said instead. “I just can’t.” Seeing how Agniesza’s face fell at this, she angrily defended herself. “Look, you don't know what it’s like to lose someone like that.” Agniesza just stared at her, but didn't say anything and Brett continued somewhat calmer. “In a way, you always think you owe them because you live on, and you have to do it for the both of you.”

“The hell I don’t know!” Agniesza shouted, her eyes sparkling with fury. “Granted, nobody ever died on me, and we had just broken up before it happened, but if you want to tell me about survivor’s guilt, how about someone who ended up in a wheelchair and blames you for it while he slowly drinks his guts away? While you’re not entirely convinced he’s wrong, either?!”

For a few seconds there was just the sound of Agniesza’s harsh breathing echoing through the room. Brett saw how she had balled her hands into fists and very carefully walked closer. “What happened?” This was something she could do, helping others deal with their demons. Too bad she was unable to exorcise her own.

“Did you ever wonder why I’m not spending my summer at home?” Agniesza asked tiredly. She sat down in the offered visitor’s chair and leaned back, speaking without preamble. “His name was Feri and I loved him like you only love the first time, without holding back and so certain that there can never be anyone else. Our mothers had more or less arranged the wedding already, but I wanted to go to college first.” She glanced up at Brett who had settled perched against the desk, listening intently. “To cut a long story short, he didn't want me to go to college, I didn’t relent, and we broke up over it. It was nasty, and we kept fighting, and making up, and fighting… until after one particularly bad argument, he got drunk out of his mind on duty – he was with the state railway – and passed out on the tracks. I had stormed off and he never set the signal –”

“…He got run over by a train.” The puzzle was coming together for Brett.

Agniesza nodded. “He lost both legs, it’s a marvel he survived at all.” She motioned to her knees, indicating where the train had hit Feri. “He refused to see me at first, and when I finally got past his nurses, he yelled and cursed me.” She exhaled slowly, trying to push away the sight of Feri, trying to get off the bed and grab her in anger, but merely skittering to the side under the sheets instead. “And that’s pretty much how it’s been since. He started drinking more and more although he knows it’ll kill him. I tried to talk to him again and again over the years, but his new girlfriend won’t let me near him and the whole village still blames his condition on my ambitions.” Briefly, Agniesza closed her eyes, shaking herself out of her stupor. “At times, they can still make me feel guilty. And part of me still wonders if he wouldn’t have become a drunk if I hadn’t gone off to college, or if only he had agreed to come with me.”

“I’m very sorry you’ve had to go through that.” Brett stated, falling back on therapeutic phrases while her mind was reeling with what she had just learned. “I can't imagine what it must have cost you to do the brave thing and not let him drag you down with his rage.”

“It goes in waves, even after all these years.” Agniesza spoke lightly, belaying the seriousness of her statement. “My history with him is a part of me. Just like Ines and her loss will always be a part of you. But I still believe in new chances –” She didn't continue, but with the way she looked at Brett, she didn’t have to.

“Princess, I don't know…” The nickname slipped out before Brett had even thought out her sentence.

“I’m not expecting miracles or commitment,” Agniesza reassured her, standing up and moving a step closer. “I don’t even know if I’d want that, but I know how I feel when you kiss me, and I know you feel it, too. All I want is to find out what this is, and if it could go anywhere.” Brett didn’t reply and just looked at her with equal parts astonishment and discomfort until Agniesza, feeling terribly exposed in her openness, snapped. “Unless, of course, you expected me to say ‘no’ all along,” she reasoned coldly. Only after she had spoken, things fell into place for her. Even though Brett was attracted to her, it seemed that she didn’t care enough to consider anything between them. And whether Brett was just using Ines as an excuse or whether she truly wasn’t ready to embark on anything new, in either case it meant that Brett had merely been toying with her affections from the beginning. None of it had been as serious as Agniesza had hoped it to be. And now that Agniesza had given in, now that she did want Brett, regardless of the fact that she was a woman, and one that drove her crazy at that, the psychologist just stepped down and left her alone to deal with all the confusing emotions. Agniesza felt the familiar prickle of anger trickle down her spine. “If you knew you couldn’t do this, it would mean that you’ve done nothing but lie to me from the very beginning!”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that I couldn’t do this,” Brett struggled to explain. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“You didn’t mean to lead me on?” Agniesza repeated incredulously, her pride hurt at Brett’s sympathy. “You practically dragged me here by my hair and now that I’m deciding to give Gayville a try, you say you never wanted me in the first place? …After you kissed me like that?”

“That’s not what… I just can't.” Brett shook her head, willing the memory of that kiss away. Agniesza straightened and took another step closer, trapping Brett against the desk. It felt different this time, Brett noted, not at all exciting, and she actually flinched at the ire in Agniesza’s eyes.

The Hungarian snatched the bicycling outfit she brought off the table again and took a few steps backwards. “I pegged you for a lot of things, Brett Garland, but never for a coward!” She hurled the clothes at Brett who reflexively caught them against her chest, frozen under Agniesza’s disdainful glare. “Go to hell - az ördog vigye!”

This time, she slammed the door in her wake.

*************

In the end, there were so many things left to organize that when Joanna finally relaxed against her seat on the plane with nothing to do, the last hectic days in Leipzig seemed like a blur to her. A somewhat whimsical looking Brett had escorted her to the airport, prompting Joanna to joke whether she still hadn’t recovered from Saturday night’s heart-to-heart that had involved more than just a few drinks.

Joanna felt somewhat guilty to leave Brett behind like this. Between sorting out her own troubled feelings and making her peace with her past and Ines, Brett really didn’t need the added complication of an infuriated Agniesza to deal with, even though Joanna could understand that fury up to a certain point. Being rejected after Brett had propositioned her for months had to be a blow, especially since Agniesza was taking a leap with accepting that she was attracted to a woman. Given the woman’s volatile nature in general, it was surprising that she hadn’t been throwing heavier objects around Brett’s office.

Joanna was dubious whether she had been so drastically off in her assessment that these two could be good for each other, with Brett’s laid-back attitude balancing Agniesza’s capricious fierceness. Perhaps they simply had exceptionally bad timing, or perhaps she was just projecting her own current state of twosome happiness onto the people in her vicinity. Joanna checked her watch again, chagrined that only three minutes had passed since the last time she had done so. She shifted in her seat, not understanding how these last few hours before she would finally see Eliane again could feel as long as the entire past ten days.

The nervousness caught up with her during the last, brief layover in Chicago. The overpriced coffee she bought remained nearly untouched, her stomach protesting the usually so welcome bitterness. Even the lines of the newspaper that she had gotten to distract herself from the ever‑growing mass of butterflies in her stomach seemed to flutter and blur in front of her eyes and she gave up after she had read the same paragraph for the fifth time without really grasping its content.

She fastened the seat belt on the last plane with shaking fingers. One more hour until she would see Eliane. The giddy excitement that had kept her restless for the entire journey mixed with more and more nervousness to the point of nausea. Joanna concentrated on taking slow, measured breaths, trying to brace herself against the sudden onslaught of emotions. Much as she had looked forward to this moment, now that it was almost upon her, she wanted to run and hide, overwhelmed by the feelings rushing through her. It was as if her own body couldn’t keep up with the surge of adrenalin it produced.

When the plane touched down, Joanna feared for a moment that she was going to be sick.

This whole visit had been such a spontaneous idea that she didn't know what to expect. Would Eliane be different here? Would it feel different to see her? – They hadn’t talked about how careful they needed to be on campus, and who of Eliane’s colleagues, if any, could know that they were together. There hadn’t been time to think about the fact that they would be sharing a small apartment for two whole weeks. Joanna didn't even know if she could kiss her hello in the airport.

The walk through the airport was too short for her to organize her jumbled thoughts and in the end she felt entirely unprepared as she stepped into the baggage claim area, her heart hammering in her chest. While she waited for her luggage, she let her gaze wander over the assembled people – drivers holding up printed signs, families standing close together, a small child holding a flower jumping up and down excitedly.

She didn’t see Eliane at first, but when she did, she realized that in a mere ten days of absence, her memory already must have begun to pale because the way Eliane looked now – standing a bit away from the melee, her head canted to the side, hands in the pockets of her pants – she was more breathtaking than Joanna remembered.

Her legs felt embarrassingly unsteady as she walked closer, and Eliane was moving toward her just as slowly, as if it took her great effort not to run. In the end, they stood in front of each other for one awkward moment, drinking in the sight of the other with helplessly beaming smiles. Strangely spellbound by the moment, Joanna stared at Eliane, mesmerized by every little detail – the small crinkles around her eyes, thrown into relief by her smile, the way her breath had quickened, the two single strands of hair that fell into her face.

She didn’t even realize when she let go of her luggage, but then Eliane was in her arms, holding onto her tightly, and Joanna closed her eyes in reflex when she wrapped her arms around Eliane in return, incredibly aware of the precious weight of the body against her. She breathed in deeply, relaxing into the embrace, and even though the exhaustion of her trip caught up with her now that the tension gradually ebbed away, she felt truly awake for the first time in days. Holding Eliane seemed so indisputably right and universal, that letting go of her, even just to look into her eyes, didn't translate as something sensible to Joanna.

It was with reluctance that she finally let Eliane disentangle herself, certain that the liquid look in Eliane’s eyes was mirrored by a similar expression in her own. It only lasted for a second before she drew Eliane against her again as if compelled to do so by some kind of magnetic force, needing to ascertain that she was really here, warm and palpable and breathing. Eliane leaned against her more heavily, her face pressed into the crook of Joanna’s neck. Long moments passed where drawing breath alone was already challenging enough.

Eventually Eliane drew back, holding Joanna’s hands in her own as her eyes roamed over her. “How was your flight?” She took in Joanna’s slightly disheveled, exhausted state, and the reality of the plane ride and the airport hall around them caught up with her. She reached for Joanna’s luggage. “Wait, let me take this.” Nodding to their left, she added, “The parking garage is this way.”

Joanna fell into step next to her, moving in a slight haze. Every few moments, she glanced to the side, just to make sure that Eliane was still there. Perhaps it was the tiredness after finally having arrived, but walking down the halls like this it felt as if her body had expanded, encompassing them both.

Eliane talked about the weather and the drive, only then realizing that Joanna wasn’t really replying. “Should we pick up something to eat?” Perhaps Joanna shared her own dislike for aircraft cuisine. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Joanna shook her head. She had everything she needed walking right next to her. Only when they stopped in front of what had to be Eliane’s vehicle, she was drawn out of her contented stupor. “Why do you drive such a huge car?”

Eliane laughed, gesturing at the equally large sized SUVs around them. “Welcome to the States, darling.” She produced the keys and unlocked the trunk. “Besides, it’s fun to drive.”

Joanna nodded, distracted by the sight of Eliane easily hefting her suitcase and the way her jacket rode up as she bent forward to store the luggage away. Just when she became conscious of the fact that she was staring and didn’t feel all that tired anymore, Eliane turned around. “Hop in,” she said with a smile that Joanna thought was downright rakish. She climbed into the car to find that she had more space for legs in here than on all of today’s plane rides combined.

Eliane slid behind the wheel with practiced ease and Joanna reached over, intertwining their hands. She thought she should perhaps say something, but then she just smiled. Eliane freed her hand to trace the dimple curved into Joanna’s cheek with a single finger. “It’s so good to see your smile again,” she said softly, feeling the skin under her touch shift as Joanna’s smile broadened. Something hit home for her in that moment, about having Joanna here, and having her smile at her like that, just for her, and she gripped the lapels of Joanna’s lightweight jacket and pulled her close, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips. “God, I’ve missed you so much,” she stated, her voice rough, and she reached up to cradle Joanna’s face in her hands before she leaned in again, slowly this time, to kiss Joanna thoroughly.

The smile only gradually vanished from Joanna’s face, in synch with the deepening kiss. She briefly wondered what it was about kissing Eliane in cars that seemed to get to her, but as always in these situations, it was just so hard to concentrate on anything but Eliane’s lips on hers and the way she seemed to know just how to move to make her melt into the touch. It always felt like more than just kissing, and for a moment, there was the stray realization somewhere on the outer edges of her consciousness that she never wanted to kiss anyone else again.

Joanna’s hand had found its way under the edge of Eliane’s shirt, onto the curve of her waist just over her belt. Eliane’s arms closed around her neck as Joanna drew her thumb over warm skin.

The loud honking of a car horn tore into taut silence that had been punctuated only by unsteady breathing and the occasional creak of the seats. They jumped apart, Joanna guiltily drawing her hand out from underneath Eliane’s shirt.

Without even looking at the car that had rolled to a halt in front of them and was momentarily blocking out the metallic snouts of the vehicles parked across from them, Eliane slapped the palm of her hand against the wheel, honking back as she straightened in her seat with an apologetic expression. “I don’t want to end up on the security cameras or on the internet,” she said ruefully, turning the key in the ignition. She winked at Joanna. “And a public parking garage isn’t really what I had in mind.” Discreetly, Eliane pulled the edge of her shirt down over her hip again before she maneuvered the car out of the parking space. She shot a careless smile in Joanna’s direction. “But I happen to have a perfectly cozy apartment less than an hour’s drive away.”

The expression was so typical of the more unguarded side of Eliane, the one that Joanna had only recently become more privy to, that there was a pull of something bittersweet when Joanna looked at her in reply, as if it was too much to take in all in one moment. She reached out to stroke a strand of hair back behind Eliane’s ear. “I’m so happy to see you, you can’t imagine.”

Eliane chuckled throatily. “Oh yes, I can,” she protested, quickly grabbing Joanna’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joanna let her hand drop to Eliane’s thigh as they cleared the parking garage, the possessive gesture not going uncommented when Eliane arched an eyebrow at her in reply. She didn’t seem to mind, though.

“So… any new gossip back home?” Eliane inquired lightly, seemingly immune to the caress, but Joanna felt the muscles in her leg twitch under her fingers.

“Bertha wants a postcard,” she reported. “Since she seems to think I won’t have the time to send one. You should have seen her grin when I told her where I was going!”

“Daniels needs to get her mind out of the gutter.” Eliane steered them out of the airport traffic and onto the highway, thinking that if Bertha had too much fun teasing Joanna, there was always Paul Lukasz to inquire about in return. “How’s everyone else?”

“Good.” Joanna nodded. “Apart from Brett and Agniesza, who are arguing again.”

Eliane glanced at her sideways. “When aren’t they?”

“We used to be fighting, as well,” Joanna reminded her. She still thought that there was something going on between Brett and Agniesza, even if they would never embark on it. “This time it’s different, though. Agniesza wanted to give it a chance and Brett bailed.”

“I’m glad I’m not at the institute at the moment,” Eliane stated wryly. She switched lanes to pass another car on their right. “And I dearly hope we won’t be returning to smoking ruins for the new semester.” Joanna’s hand was still resting on her thigh. It lay perfectly still, but something about the sight made Eliane exhale slowly as she tried to pick up the conversation again. “Although I’ll agree with Brett that the idea of dating Dr. Matysek could seem… intimidating.”

Joanna laughed. “I bet they say that about me, too.”

“Good,” Eliane stated possessively. “Because you’re off the market.”

“Aha?” Joanna grinned, squeezing Eliane’s thigh for good measure and enjoying the small gasp the gesture elicited. “So, how are things here?” she asked guilelessly. “How did it go with your mother over the weekend?”

“Well, yet again,” Eliane admitted not without surprise. “I even managed a civil dinner with Joseph and my brother.” She cast a quick glance to the side at Joanna. “I told her you were visiting me, by the way.”

“Really?” Joanna leaned back against the seat, eyeing Eliane curiously. “What did she say?”

Eliane laughed. “She asked me if I was serious about you.” She looked out onto the street with great concentration, even though there was no other car trying to pass them. “I said yes.” She switched lanes again and then cast another quick glance at Joanna. “She wants to meet you.”

“What?!” Joanna exclaimed. Within half an hour of arriving, the request was a little too much for her exhausted state.

“Since you’re here already…” Eliane shrugged, clearly somewhat overwhelmed with the idea as well. “She won’t visit Leipzig because she hates intercontinental flights, so this is a rare chance for her…” She caught Joanna’s incredulous look and shook her head. “Don’t worry.” She put her own hand atop Joanna’s that was still resting on her thigh. “She’ll simply drive over one afternoon and we’ll have coffee with her, if that’s okay with you.” At Joanna’s hesitant nod, she felt compelled to add, “It’s the first time she’s ever tried to reach out and meet a woman I’m seeing, so I’d feel really bad to say no.” Eliane sighed, continuing more for herself. “And I’m in my thirties now, it’s not like she could forbid us to see each other…”

“She’s still your mother!” Joanna pointed out warily.

Eliane held onto Joanna’s hand. “If she doesn’t like you and starts churchy lectures about saving our souls, we’ll leave immediately. I promise.”

Joanna smiled weakly. “She didn’t like me on the phone already!”

“She won’t be able to resist you in person.” Eliane gave Joanna her best beseeching look.

Joanna glowered at her accusatorily. “You’re biased.”

“Yes.” Eliane grinned, her eyes slowly wandering over Joanna’s face. “Completely.”

Joanna arched an eyebrow. “Eliane?”

“Mhmm?” It was almost a purr.

Joanna swallowed heavily. “Please watch the road.”

She turned to look out of the window herself, for the first time taking in the wide freeway and the landscape in the distance, rolling hills and the bright greens and yellows of fields and arable land under the warm light of the late evening sun. By the time they reached the edges of the IU Bloomington campus, the first hints of dusk were already softening the angles and lines of the house fronts.

“Here we are,” Eliane stated, drawing to a halt in front of several buildings in red and white. “It’s not the Ritz, but…”

“I hope it’s a little more private than the Ritz,” Joanna interrupted with a smile.

“Well, there won’t be chambermaids or mothers barging in in the morning,” Eliane promised. She looked over her shoulder around the parking lot before she leaned in for a quick kiss to Joanna’s lips. “Let’s get you settled in then. – We need to drop by the office tomorrow to get you an access card and a key, but everything else is taken care of.” She got out of the car and unloaded the luggage, again hefting it easily as she ushered Joanna up a few stairs toward an entrance door. “Would you like a bit of a campus tour tonight? – Or rather tomorrow?”

“How about tomorrow?” Joanna suggested. Now that she was only minutes away from taking off her shoes and sitting down in something other than a plane or car seat, the tiredness from her trip settled in, making her limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. “Right now all I want is to take a shower, watch you frown over student papers for a bit and go to sleep with you later.”

“Of course.” Eliane smiled happily at the image. She didn’t care if she had two dozen student essays to go over tonight as long as she could look up every other minute and find Joanna sitting at the other end of the couch, or the bed, or leaning against the kitchen counter. It touched her that Joanna so graciously acknowledged her workload, much more than Eliane was willing to acknowledge it at the moment. “Here we are.” Eliane opened the apartment door and let Joanna enter before her. She smiled as Joanna hurried to take off her shoes before she walked down the small carpeted hallway into the living room.

“It’s nice,” Joanna stated, looking around contentedly. From the living room, an open door led to the bedroom, offering a glimpse of an inviting queen size bed that looked almost as big as the one Eliane had in Leipzig. Another door probably led to the bathroom, and one side of the room was cordoned off by a counter, hosting a small kitchen. Everything was held in subdued off‑whites and light greens, making for a subtly relaxing atmosphere. A blanket lay haphazardly thrown over the edge of the couch and on the coffee table sat a stack of papers. On the top page, Joanna could make out notes in Eliane’s handwriting. “Cozy, really.”

Eliane set Joanna’s luggage down at the foot of the bed. “I’m glad you like it. I know it’s kind of small…”

“If we add up the rooms of your apartment we actually use when I’m there, it’s not even that small in comparison,” Joanna pointed out. “Besides, being cooped up with you sounds just about perfect.”

“Let’s see if you still say that in a week,” Eliane commented warily, but she was smiling. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’ll just get some water.” Joanna left her carry-on bag on the kitchen counter and motioned toward the overhead cupboards. “Are the glasses in here?” When Eliane nodded, she opened the first compartment, but was immediately distracted from her search. “You have groceries on hand?” She gave Eliane an impressed look. “Don't tell me you’ve taken on cooking in my absence!” Rooting through the shelf, she found something else that caught her attention. “You even have bitter orange jam!” She shot Eliane a charmed look. “And you don't even like it.”

Eliane walked closer. “But I know you do.”

Joanna abandoned her search for a glass and leaned across the counter instead, pressing the gentlest kiss to Eliane’s lips. “I think I’ll have to tuck you away in my pocket so that nobody can steal you,” she murmured against the mouth underneath her own, and then had to laugh at the way Eliane pinched her in reply only to kiss her some more.

“Mhmm.” Joanna sighed happily. She could feel Eliane chuckle against her.

“Anything else you need?” Eliane asked, slowly disentangling herself. “Some dinner, perhaps?”

Joanna could have stood just holding Eliane indefinitely, doing nothing but revel in her sheer presence. Something else occurred to her. “Actually, I’d like to take a shower.”

“Sure…” Eliane gestured toward the bathroom and then frowned. “Darn, I forgot to get extra towels.” She had thought of the orange jam, but a few of the more mundane details seemed to have escaped her in all the excitement. “Take mine for now, there are one or two left… I’ll just go down to organize a few more –”

“Are you included in the room service?” Joanna perked up.

Eliane just grinned. “Depends on your tips.” With that, she was out of the door, leaving Joanna to a shower that, intentionally, was a little colder than comfortable. If Eliane kept grinning at her like that, she couldn’t guarantee that the paper stacks on the coffee table would see much ink tonight. Rather, they’d get a few crinkles if Eliane sent her another of those looks that left Joanna disavowing any responsibility for her own actions. She opened the cold water faucet a bit further, but even the slight chill couldn’t override the sensation of bubbly, happy warmth in the pit of her stomach.

When Eliane hurried back up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, she actually stopped at one point, perplexed by her own juvenile exuberance. Gone was the weary restlessness of the past week, replaced by a boundless feeling of invincibility and all that because of the simple knowledge that behind her nondescript apartment door, somebody was waiting for her.

It wasn’t how she had expected to feel. After the crazy rush of want she had been battling for the past ten days, and the less and less veiled phone conversations with Joanna, she’d have expected them to tumble straight into bed from the airport. Granted, that first kiss in the parking garage hadn’t been far from that scenario, but the foremost sensation now was an odd sense of peace, coupled with a humble gratitude that was unfamiliar to Eliane. She had the urge to thank someone or something for this, for having Joanna here with her, for being allowed to be this happy. If she could just sit with an arm around Joanna tonight, she’d correct her students’ homework with the other uncomplaining.

Eliane revisited these plans, however, when she reentered the apartment and found Joanna standing in the door to the bedroom bent over her open suitcase, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Her hair was still wet, glistening darkly as it clung to her skull. Eliane’s gaze involuntarily skittered down long thighs, taking in how short the standard towels were on a woman of Joanna’s height. She wasn’t even conscious of the fact that she was staring until Joanna straightened and turned to look at her, an eyebrow arched.

Eliane cleared her throat. Swallowing had suddenly become difficult when she realized that the towel Joanna wore was only held up by a haphazardly tucked in edge.

Joanna said something, but Eliane only saw her lips move, the words not transmitting to her brain over the sudden loud rush of blood in her ears. She felt the atmosphere in the room change, the air between them palpable against her skin like an invisible thread that linked them together while everything else around them shrunk into the background.

Walking closer, Eliane dropped the towels she was still holding onto a chair in passing. Joanna was still looking at her archly, but with a small smile playing about her lips and for a moment Eliane wondered how she had gotten so lucky. Then she was close enough for Joanna to hook a finger under the collar of her shirt and pull her closer and Eliane closed her eyes when Joanna leaned in to kiss her. She trailed her hands up Joanna’s arms, feeling a few last drops of water under her fingertips. She blinked in disappointment when Joanna pulled back and then again, without any disappointment at all, when with one small shrug, the towel lost its precarious hold and fell to the floor between their feet.

Before Eliane could say or do anything, Joanna had taken the last step toward the bed with her fingers still hooked under Eliane’s collar and let herself fall backwards onto the covers, pulling a startled Eliane with her. She barely managed to balance herself with her hands left and right of Joanna’s head. They stared at each other for another breathless moment and Eliane’s last coherent thought was that her students could probably wait a day longer for their papers. Then Joanna pulled her down for a heated kiss, hooking a bare thigh across Eliane’s hips to keep her just where she wanted her.

Eliane sank into the touch, and it was a bit like running across a field and then stumbling and falling into the soft ground, like she had done as a kid, feeling the earth around her smooth itself to her skin, and when she had looked up at the sky above her it was impossibly wide and impossibly blue.

The air that wafted in through the half-opened window was rich and humid, warm even at the late hour, its familiarity settling over Eliane like a layer of skin, encompassing both her and Joanna. This was home, this body and these kisses, and breathing like Joanna did and feeling the beat of her heart under her lips like her own, and the salt on her skin and the solidness of her touch.

 

 

The tip of the cigarette glowed brightly for a second in the surrounding dusk as Agniesza took another long drag and leaned back against the steps of the courtyard. Across the expanse, blending into the shadows of the shrub, she could make out Nike’s silhouette. The cat had indignantly strutted off the moment Agniesza had opened her cigarette case.

Agniesza didn't even have the energy to be insulted, distracting by more pressing worries. The disheartening conversation with Brett kept haunting her and even though the psychologist had refused to consider anything between them, the scene still gave Agniesza pause. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but the fierceness of the refusal and the lost and guilty look Brett had been sporting just before she had stormed out didn't allow Agniesza to simply brand Brett as another jerk who had lied to her. She realized that things would be much easier if she just could be incredibly mad at her, and nothing further. Like this, she couldn’t manage as much as a single calm thought.

With all her experience in seducing men who initially hadn’t been attracted to her or hadn’t believed they stood a chance with her, Agniesza was helpless when it came to seducing a woman who already was attracted to her, but refused to act on it.

It was more than just a matter of injured pride. More than wanting to prove to Brett that she was right about the attraction between them, she wanted to work things out with her. Of course, that would include proving to her that Agniesza had been right. Only a few weeks ago, her most preeminent worry had been to keep her job, but now that it was clear that she had at least another year with the institute she thought a lot more about making Brett see that she was wasting a chance than about where she might go when the institute closed up.

Even her brother András had commented on her distracted state of mind earlier when they had talked on the phone. He had called to invite her for one of the upcoming weeks, into his new apartment where he had just moved with his fiancée. It was a half hour drive from the village, closer to his fiancée’s childhood home, so she wouldn’t have to put up with the stares and the gossip if she went.

He had wanted to know whether she was that distracted because of a new man and had been genuinely happy when she told him that there was someone she liked at work, even though things were a bit complicated. “No man could ever resist you if you put your mind to it,” he had reminded her laughingly, but Agniesza had only mumbled that this time, that seemed to be part of the problem.

She knew that András wanted her to be happy, but even though he was the one person in her family she was closest to, she didn't know if he would understand her attraction to Brett. Hell, she barely understood it herself.

It was too bad that Joanna was out of town at the moment since Agniesza could have used another Q&A session on lesbian habits, for example if there was any particular affinity to one’s ex‑girlfriends and if so, if there was any way to confront it. She supposed she could ask Gaby, who had given her the number to her cell when she had called about Brett, but with the little crush Gaby seemed to be harboring on her, she didn’t seem like the right person to talk to. Still, she might be of some assistance. Nike trailed after her as soon as the cigarette had been extinguished, back up into the apartment, and Agniesza absently petted her while she dialed the foreign number with the other hand.

After two rings, the now familiar voice came over the line. “Yo?”

“Hello Gaby, this is Agniesza.” She sat down in her wingchair, Nike contentedly jumping into her lap.

“Oh, hey.” Gaby sounded pleasantly surprised. “How are you? …Anything I can do for you?”

“Actually, yes,” Agniesza admitted. “Would you have a phone number for Schubert on hand?”

“Sure…” Gaby said slowly, clearly curious as to what was going on, but then she recited the number from memory without asking any further questions for which Agniesza was very grateful. She even talked for a while longer with Gaby who wanted to know how her first bicycle trip had been.

When she eventually hung up and squinted to read the hastily scribbled down number Gaby had given her, she was met with Nike’s haughty stare. “Not a word,” she warned the cat. The irony that she was calling up every lesbian in town after she had spent months avoiding the very one she was now chasing didn't escape her. She swallowed her pride, defiantly returning Nike’s glare before she dialed the next number.

*************

The alarm tore Eliane out of a sound sleep. She needed a moment to disentangle one arm from the cocoon of warm limbs she was wrapped up in and blindly hit the off button. Only then did she blink her eyes open, taking in the way Joanna was snuggled against her side, her head pillowed on Eliane’s bare shoulder. This led to the realization that there was a lot more bare skin pressed closely against her underneath the disarrayed sheet.

“I can’t believe we slept in the nude,” Eliane stated with a trace of embarrassment.

“’Sure, s’hot in here,” Joanna mumbled sleepily, not moving from her position.

“That’s because you opened the window, darling.” Eliane smiled fondly, brushing a few strands of hair off Joanna’s forehead as she moved to leave the bed. “It shuts off the air‑conditioning.”

“Mhmm.” Joanna reached for Eliane’s deserted pillow, already falling back into deeper sleep. She only woke again when a freshly showered Eliane sat down on the edge of the bed, buttoning up her blouse.

Joanna blinked, instantly more awake at the sight of a skirt-clad thigh less than an arms’ length from her face. Now that was something she wouldn’t mind waking up to more often. With two fingers, she slowly pushed the skirt up an inch, stroking behind Eliane’s knee with a single fingertip.

“Why don't you sleep for a while longer,” Eliane suggested, delicately pulling the questing hand out from underneath her skirt where it had been creeping higher along her thigh. “I can meet you back here for lunch.” She readjusted her skirt, shifting at the edge of the bed and the lazy look in Joanna’s eyes told her that the small lapse of distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“No.” Joanna sat up groggily. “The sooner I adapt to the schedule, the better.”

Eliane chuckled and couldn’t resist reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Joanna’s ear. “In that case, coffee’s about ready.”

“That’s one thing you can cook,” Joanna stated, looking around for her clothes before she remembered that the only thing she had worn before they had tumbled into bed last night had been a towel of not very substantial size. In search of something to wear, she saw a blue sleeve peeking out from underneath a rumpled pillow. “My shirt,” she stated happily, quickly slipping it on. She buried her face in the collar for a moment, smiling as she inhaled deeply. “Now it smells like you.”

She only closed a few of the middle buttons, the hem of the shirt falling just to the top of her thighs, the cuffs unbuttoned over her wrists, her hair framing the open collar. When she leaned against the kitchen counter to accept a steaming mug of coffee, Eliane was seriously tempted to drop the coffee and her briefcase, leaving her students on their own for the morning and climbing back into bed with Joanna instead.

“Careful, Prof. Darhayne.” Joanna smiled, her voice still thickened by a last vestige of sleep. “If you keep looking at me like that, I can't guarantee I’ll be responsible for my actions.”

“And I can't guarantee I’ll object,” Eliane murmured, leaning closer across the counter.

Leaving the apartment proved to be difficult, and her last look at the shirt-clad Joanna before she closed the door, coffee cup in hand as she pressed a last, warm kiss to her cheek, made her want to barge right back in and damn her schedule. She took a deep breath as she hurried down the stairs, trying to push the image away and focus on the upcoming lesson instead, but with the constant, low thrum of want lingering at the edges of her consciousness, it would be a feat hard to accomplish.

The Joanna who was waiting for her in the hall at lunch break was a vision of precision that didn't even hint at this morning’s tousled state – pants with perfect crease, a crisply ironed, short‑sleeved blouse, her hair done up neatly. She didn't look any less alluring though, casually leaning against the corner of the corridor where Eliane’s classroom lay this summer.

When Eliane walked closer, she had to remind herself not to smile too much, especially since Joanna was looking at her in a way that could not be interpreted as picking a friendly colleague up for lunch. She stopped three feet away from Joanna, feeling every inch of the short distance. “Did you get up alright?”

Joanna looked at her oddly for a moment before she realized what Eliane was concerned about. “With your coffee, of course,” she stated lightly, the intensity in her gaze vanishing. “I found the library already.” She held up a pile of folders before her expression shifted, her voice becoming softer. “And how are you?”

“Fantastic, apparently.” Eliane still wasn’t sure whether she should be worried that her happiness was apparently transmitting so easily. “Belinda said that I seem to be in a very good mood this morning.”

“Really?” Joanna leaned in without thinking about it. “I hope you didn’t tell her why.” Only when Eliane took a nervous step back, looking at the throng of people around them, did she retreat and clamp both hands around the folders she was balancing under her arm. It was so hard not to reach out and touch Eliane.

“Of course not,” Eliane replied soberly, but then she couldn’t help but smile as she cast a quick, private glance at Joanna walking next to her. “Well, I told them I would be a day late with the essays because I was otherwise tied up last night…”

Joanna arched an eyebrow. “I don’t remember tying you up.”

Eliane actually blushed and walked a little faster.

“Wait, Belinda…wasn’t that the Shakespeare one?” Joanna inquired curiously. “The one with the crush?”

“For the love of God, Joanna –” Eliane all but groaned in exasperation before she dropped her voice as they passed two students in the hallway. “She doesn’t have a crush on me.”

“Ha.” Joanna was unconvinced. “Introduce me to her and we’ll see.”

They had arrived at the entrance to another corridor, and Eliane stopped. “Here we are,” she turned to Joanna with an expression that was somewhere between proud and wistful. “This is my old institute. – Why don't we leave the folders in my office and go out for some lunch?”

A pleasant male voice interrupted them. “Morning, Darhayne.”

Joanna turned to find a man trying to move past them through the door. He was probably in his early thirties, clean-shaven with a shock of full, dark hair.

“Morning Rohan.” Eliane smiled. “May I introduce Joanna van de Kreek. She’s visiting from my European institute.”

“You’re the one with the double doctorate, right?” Rohan asked, offering his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Rohan.” He inclined his head just a bit when Joanna shook his hand.

He wasn’t the only colleague Joanna met. Further down the corridor, they ran into a woman who had to be in her fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a clear and alert face. Her smile when she saw Eliane, however, was warm and cordial.

“Miranda!” Eliane waved the other woman over.

“Eliane!” Miranda walked closer, eyeing Joanna with curiosity. “Is this the colleague you mentioned might visit you?”

“Yes.” Eliane was unaware of the pride in her own tone. “My friend and colleague, Joanna van de Kreek – Miranda Peters, one of my old mentors and dearest friends in town.”

“My pleasure.” Joanna was surprised for a moment by Miranda’s firm handshake, but then that cordial smile was back.

“Oh, likewise!” Miranda held onto Joanna’s hand a moment longer. “Eliane has been telling us about your doctorates – how it is going?”

Joanna blinked, thrown for a moment. “I’m working on my defense speeches at the moment.”

“Really, when are your defenses?” Miranda asked with interest.

Eliane stood a bit aside, watching the scene with fond amusement as Miranda wanted to know what exactly Joanna was working on and Joanna was clearly confused by the friendly inquiries, answering like a student during an exam. Eliane remembered how she had first encountered Miranda when she had still been a student herself, and had been baffled by the instantly caring demeanor as well. Only later she had realized how sincere it was.

“Oh, I heard you did a stint in Kent at the Comp Lit institute?” Miranda was asking just then. “I did a post-doc there, a long time ago.” She laughed, as if she couldn’t believe herself how much time had past since then. She curved a hand to Joanna’s arm before she continued. “I’d love to hear how things are going over there. How about we have a coffee while you’re here, and you can fill me in?”

“I’d like that,” Joanna answered quickly, surprised yet again. When they finally made it into Eliane’s guest office, she turned toward her in puzzlement. “Are all your colleagues this nice?”

“I don't know.” Eliane shook her head. “But those two are by far my favorites.” She placed her briefcase on the desk and moved toward the door. “…Hungry?”

“Yes.” Joanna was with her in two steps and surprised her by leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Eliane automatically turned around, checking the closed door. Only then did she apologetically glance up at Joanna. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I’m just more nervous around here. This is my old work place, and some of these people are old teachers and mentors –”

“I understand that.” Joanna would have liked to hug Eliane, but instead she just interlaced their fingers, hoping to convey just as much with the small gesture. If this were her old school, she’d probably feel as if she were seventeen again and would be just as jumpy about being seen with someone. For a moment, glancing at the desk, she wondered if this was the room in which Eliane had surprised Thomas with her own secretary back then. She couldn’t even imagine what that must have felt like. Shaking off the odd thought, she followed Eliane out into the hallway.

“Did you actually tell everyone about my doctorates?” Joanna asked curiously when they left the building and stepped into the hot mid-day air.

Eliane expression was sheepish. “Seems I can’t stop talking about you.” She cleared her throat, a little embarrassed by her own admission, and gestured ahead. “Let’s go. I can give you a little campus tour on the way… We even have a fountain.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”

There was something in her tone that made the small comment more intimate than a full embrace would have been and Eliane found herself straying closer, walking alongside Joanna who shortened her strides a bit, falling into step with Eliane. They walked close enough that their hands might brush against one another in walking, but they didn’t.

Eliane looked at the mass of students and teachers around them who were walking the grounds, resting on the lawns and entering and exiting buildings. And yet amidst of all those people, there seemed to be a thread that linked just her and Joanna, unbeknownst to everyone else. It was in the way their steps aligned, and in the tiny smile that she could, from the corner of her eye, see mirrored on Joanna’s face.

 

 

It was late afternoon when Agniesza walked into the Lucca Bar, avoiding the tables in the evening sun outside. She took off her sunglasses and needed a moment to adjust to the dim light of the interior with its dark greens and browns. In the front of the room, next to the windows, the club of Italian exchange students seemed to be holding a meeting of sorts since four tables were occupied with loudly chattering, dark‑haired people in their early twenties. Walking ahead into the back of the café, Agniesza found Schubert sitting at a small table against the far wall, an espresso cup in front of her. She stood up when Agniesza approached the table and Agniesza thought that she looked exactly like the last time she had seen her, dressed all in black with a heavy belt and her short hair carefully styled out of her face.

“Thank you for taking the time.” They shook hands, and from the corner of her eyes, Agniesza saw one of the Italian kids eye them curiously.

“You’re welcome.” Schubert politely waited till Agniesza had sat down before taking her own place again and Agniesza realized that the Italian kid probably thought she was here on a lesbian date with Schubert. After all, Schubert was looking the part and had the manners to go with it, as well.

Agniesza found that she didn’t care. She had always been delighted by courteous manners in a man and she wasn’t about to object to them in a woman, and besides, she had more pressing issues to worry about. Schubert signaled for a waiter and Agniesza almost ordered a coffee with a shot on the side, supposing she might need it for the upcoming conversation, but then she remembered Schubert’s history with drinking and thought it rude to do shots in front of her. She hoped the coffee was strong enough.

“Is everything okay?” Schubert observed Agniesza playing absently with the sunglasses she had placed on the table in front of her. “Did something happen with Brett?”

Agniesza nodded, about to launch into her tale, but then hesitated, reaching for her purse. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Of course not.” Schubert had drawn her lighter out of her pocket before Agniesza even had the cigarette between her lips. Only then did she light one for herself, looking at Agniesza expectantly.

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” Agniesza stated carefully. “I keep trying to reach out to her, but she won’t listen to me.”

Schubert took a deep draw. “You mean you’re trying to ask her out?”

“Yes.” Agniesza expected some comment at that, about how Brett shouldn't be blamed for being wary of someone who wasn’t gay, or the by now already standard question as to where she saw herself, as bisexual or just dabbling in something on the side. There was no judgment coming forth, however, for which Agniesza was grateful. Things were complicated enough without trying to put labels on what was going on between her and Brett. “And with how she’s blowing me off, I’m beginning to think she’s just been toying with me all along.”

“I’m not going to rat her out behind her back,” Schubert finally said. “But I’ve seen Brett toy around, and this doesn’t look it at all.”

“I don't want you to rat anyone out,” Agniesza reassured her, taking a drag from her cigarette. “But if she’s not just playing, why does she evade me, now that I’m willing to go along? – I’m just trying to understand her, and what’s going on…” She shrugged helplessly. “And you’re the only one I could think of asking.”

Schubert nodded, acknowledging Agniesza’s sincerity. “So what happened?”

The waiter brought their coffee at that moment which gave Agniesza a little longer to organize her thoughts. “I spent more time with her, just doing friendly things – shopping together, nothing extraordinary.” She sighed, and then she told Schubert about buying the bicycle and taking the trip, and how they hadn’t even been fighting. Her coffee cooled on the side while she tried to describe the evening with Brett, how right everything had felt, including the shared kiss. Even at the memory, Agniesza couldn’t suppress a tiny smile. “And then she suddenly ran away,” she concluded her story. “She just grabbed her things and left, completely out of the blue.”

“That doesn’t sound like Garland,” Schubert agreed.

“No.” Agniesza smiled uncertainly. “So I tried to talk to her, but she kept avoiding me. I had to hunt her down at work on a Saturday to talk to her. She was evasive and kept apologizing, and in the end she said she still wasn’t over Ines.” Agniesza looked helplessly at Schubert. “If that’s it, how am I supposed to compete with a dead woman? One that is standing on a mile high pedestal? Or is this a lesbian thing I’m not getting? - Because I just know that if only Brett would give me a chance… a real chance… it might be something good.” She gestured in aggravation and noted that her hands were shaking. “She kissed me back, goddammit!” Agniesza lowered her voice when a few of the Italian kids glanced their way. “And now she won’t even look at me,” she stated dejectedly. “And I don’t know what to do…”

Schubert regarded her quietly for a few seconds. “You really are in love with her, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Agniesza didn't even think before she answered.

Schubert nodded slowly, but she didn't seem reluctant as much as sympathetic. “I’m not sure it’ll work,” she admitted. “It really is up to Brett.”

Agniesza took a shaky breath. She found herself close to tears all of a sudden and hurried to hide behind her cup of coffee, but Schubert had already caught on to it.

“Look,” she said gently. “If it’s any consolation, I think you did everything right this time. And frankly, if Brett is running away, it’s the biggest hint that you’re getting close to something that nobody has touched in a long time.”

“Since Ines?” Agniesza guessed, feeling completely left out of the loop. When she had realized that she was attracted to Brett, she had thought that she would worry about the novelty of going out with a woman, but instead she now had to worry about even getting to the going out part, which was something Brett had never had any qualms about before. “But it doesn’t make sense! It’s not like she didn't sleep with me already. And even apart from me, she has dated half of Berlin and Leipzig since then!” At least if Joanna’s and Bjarne’s jokes and Brett’s own attitude were anything to go by.

“Dated, yes,” Schubert agreed. “But fallen in love? No.” She downed her espresso in two short sips. “She has walls a mile high around herself when it comes to that, even if it doesn’t look like that at first. She’s so easy-going on the outside that people usually don't realize she’s having a hard time letting people in romantically. And like it or not, you seem to be getting close enough to make her nervous.”

“But I told her I wasn’t trying to replace Ines. I just said I’d like to give this a chance, to see where it could go - It’s not like I suggested we move in together!” Schubert chuckled at that, although Agniesza didn’t understand why. “But she won’t even consider it, and if I want to talk to her, she keeps avoiding me.”

Schubert shrugged. “Don't let her.”

“What do you mean?” Agniesza took another sip of her coffee.

“Don't let her get away with avoiding you.” For a moment, Schubert looked at Agniesza inquisitively, as if she wasn’t sure whether to say more. “What happened to her is horrible, but she needs no kid-gloving over Ines. It’s been almost six years, and she needs to wise up if she ever really wants to be with someone again – she’s been dawdling away for years now. I’m not sure she will allow it, but I think you have a chance.” She gave Agniesza a fond look. “And she really likes you. Trust me.”

“She likes me… so she avoids me?” A steep crease formed above Agniesza’s brow. “God, women are so complicated!”

Schubert laughed outright at that. “I hear you,” she agreed.

That wasn’t the pep talk Agniesza needed and she stared at Schubert in confusion. “So where does that leave me?”

“Exactly where you are.” Schubert didn’t seem to find the situation half as frustrating as Agniesza did. “She needs to see if she can jump over her own shadow, not you.” She shrugged easily. “Just be yourself. And don't let her pull any bullshit on you.” She canted her head to the side as if trying to figure something out. “What attracted her to you in the first place?”

“I don't know.” Agniesza couldn’t remember ever doing anything to attract Brett – apart from the few times where she had kissed Brett without warning. “One could say I was being a bitch,” she allowed and flung her hair back over one shoulder. “I suppose.”

Schubert leaned back in her chair with a grin. “Well, there you go.”

At that, even Agniesza had to laugh.

*************

“Would you like to mess up the salad dressing?” Joanna asked over her shoulder from where she stood in the small kitchen area, meeting the challenge of creating a homemade dinner with just the tiny two-burner cooktop and a microwave that, to Eliane’s amusement, she refused to use.

Eliane looked up from where she sat at the counter going over her lesson for the following day. “Cute,” she commented dryly.

Joanna grinned, walking two steps closer and Eliane used the chance, hooking a finger in the belt loops of Joanna’s pants to pull her closer. “I’ll do the dishes, though,” she offered before she drew Joanna down for a brief kiss. Her ensuing smile slowly turned into a frown. “Are we being obnoxiously domestic?”

“We are,” Joanna agreed deadpan, coming around behind Eliane and glancing over her shoulder at the notes, her chin pressed to Eliane’s temple. “But I don’t care.”

Eliane allowed herself to lean into the warmth of the body behind her. Even though Joanna had only been in Bloomington for 48 hours, it was already hard to remember how it had been before, without being able to reach out and touch Joanna. Her own body seemed intent on pushing away the dismal memory, or perhaps she was so occupied with being happy that there was no room left to recall these things.

The phone interrupted her musings and she went to retrieve it off the coffee table. “Darhayne?”

Joanna looked over curiously, but whoever the caller was made Eliane smile.

“Hello Angus.” Eliane ambled back over to the kitchen counter. “No, not tonight. Sorry.” She reached over to steal a piece of bell pepper from the salad bowl. “I’m having dinner at home tonight.” With a wink at Joanna, she added, “I’m being ‘obnoxiously domestic.’”

The roaring laugh Angus emitted in reply was audible even to Joanna a few feet away. She couldn’t understand his next words, though, only that it seemed to be a question.

“No, you’re right,” Eliane conceded serenely. “My guest is cooking.” She gave Joanna a blatantly sensuous smile and replied only distractedly to Angus. “Sorry. Another time?” She hung up shortly thereafter and turned toward Joanna in explanation. “Angus wanted us to have dinner with the colleagues tonight.”

“Perhaps we can do that sometime on the weekend?” Joanna suggested.

“Sure,” Eliane agreed, but she seemed reluctant. “Although I’m somewhat wary of feeding you to the lions…”

Joanna laughed, returning to her task of slicing mushrooms. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Eliane reassured her, snatching a piece off the cutting board. She leaned back against the counter with a worried expression. “I’m just afraid they’ll notice. I can’t stop smiling when as much as your name is being mentioned. They might figure it out.”

“And what if?” Joanna put down the knife and turned to look at Eliane. “Do you think they would respect you less?”

Eliane looked at her for a moment. “Yes, actually,” she said, her voice having taken on a steely tint.

“Are you planning on hiding me away for the next two weeks?” Joanna asked the question very lightly, but the edge underneath was meeting Eliane’s own tone.

Eliane sighed in exasperation. “Joanna, please.”

“You flew me over,” Joanna pointed out heatedly. “You knew this would be difficult!”

“I knew I would go crazy if I couldn’t see you,” Eliane replied imploringly.

“And I’ll go crazy if you act like I’m a secret you’re ashamed of!” Joanna had returned to the salad dressing, stirring it vigorously.

“Nonsense!” Eliane protested. “You know that I couldn’t possibly be ashamed of you. This isn’t about you, it’s about my job and keeping it!”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Joanna exhaled slowly. “All right,” she conceded. “But the ones you have dinner with, they’re not just your colleagues.” She sighed and turned around to face Eliane fully. “I’d just like to meet some of your friends, Lil.” This wasn’t the last time they would have this particular argument and Joanna knew it. “I know you don't want to be out at work.” It had been obvious from the start that Eliane would never be the person to be out the way Joanna was, or the way Brett and Philippe were, and Joanna thought she could accept that. She tried. She just hadn’t expected it to feel like this at times, as if she was worth less than the opinion of some colleague that Eliane didn’t even care about. It wasn’t an issue they would resolve today, and perhaps not ever. Still, Joanna thought they could both do small steps. “Would it be so bad if Rohan knew? Or Miranda? They were both so friendly to me, and I can't imagine they’d respect you any less if they knew.”

Eliane regarded her with reserve. “Rohan would be too polite to say anything, but he is very conservative.”

“Really?” Joanna asked with surprise. She went back to stirring the salad vinaigrette. “With the shirt he wore and with how well he was groomed, I thought he could be gay.”

“He’s not,” Eliane contradicted. “He’s married. I think.”

“You think?” Joanna repeated with disbelief.

Eliane shrugged defensively. “We don't talk much about our personal lives.”

“But I do?” Joanna acknowledged the implication, although she thought it unjust. It wasn’t as if she herself went around telling everyone that she was gay. She just didn’t like to hide. But that was a discussion for another day, when they both were in a less confrontational mood. “I might have messed up the dressing this time,” she stated instead, staring down into the small bowl.

For long moments, Eliane said nothing. “How about we have dinner with just a few of them on the weekend?” she suggested finally. “Angus will probably make another backyard barbecue, and it would not be such a university affair. There would be other people, too.”

“I’d like that,” Joanna said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“I’m not ready to announce anything,” Eliane warned. “I’ve worked too hard to get to this point to just dismiss what the gossip could do to me.” Her tone made it clear that this was not up for discussion. Then she took a step closer, looking up at Joanna warmly. “But maybe I could tell David and Miranda.”

Joanna supposed she could do with small steps. She leaned in to kiss Eliane on the cheek, lingering for a moment longer. “Salad is ready,” she murmured. “The risotto will need another ten minutes to settle.”

Eliane leaned into Joanna’s shoulder. “Perfect,” she murmured and she didn't mean the dinner. She was just about to slide her arms more closely around Joanna when the phone rung yet again.

“Darhayne.” Her annoyance about the interruption was audible in her voice, but then her face took on an expression of surprise. “Mom!”

Joanna looked on, their little fight already half forgotten as she observed with a fond smile how Eliane’s demeanor changed when she talked to her mother. She seemed younger, and even her tone of voice was a little less decisive than usual.

“Yes.” Eliane nodded even though her mother couldn’t see it. “How about the weekend, do you have to pick up or deliver anything over here? – We could meet for coffee…” She looked for confirmation at Joanna who nodded, but was nervously playing with the cutlery.

“Actually --- no, wait Mom…” Eliane suddenly looked very uneasy. “The whole weekend? – I’ll have to ask her –” She let the phone sink to her side for a second with a shell-shocked expression and addressed Joanna instead. “My mother wants us to spend the weekend with her in Terre Haute.”

The slight thread of panic in Eliane’s voice was something that Joanna could absolutely relate to, but at the same time, the offer was something that they probably shouldn't pass up. “Would you like that?” she asked carefully, trying to gauge the mood.

After a moment, Eliane nodded. “Yes.” Shocked as she was, she was also pleasantly surprised by the invitation. “I think so.”

“Well, I said I wanted to meet your friends,” Joanna acknowledged with wry humor. She inhaled slowly, trying to push the feeling of nervousness away. “Why not start with your family?”

*************

It was mid-day when Agniesza walked into the institute, ignoring her slightly elevated heartbeat as she walked past Brett’s office on the way to her own. She didn’t care whether Brett was in there or not. Or at least she tried not to care and she didn’t check whose mugs were missing from the shelf when she passed the kitchenette, either.

There were some exam papers that Jeremy needed her opinion on as a secondary corrector and besides, everyone knew that Brett preferred to go in early in the morning, which was why Agniesza had come in later on purpose. Much as she wanted to see Brett, there was also a certain trepidation now. If Schubert was right and Brett was running away from her own feelings when it came to Agniesza, then she would have to put Brett at ease before anything else, and she wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish that. It was only too bad that Agniesza was much better with open confrontations than with patient tactical conversations.

Eager to distract herself, Agniesza was halfway through her corrections within little more than an hour and decided that a half-time coffee was in order. Of course, just as she was returning to her office, balancing a mug filled to the brim, Brett came out of the Ph.D. candidates’ office at the other end of the corridor. A mix of anger, desire and embarrassment washed over Agniesza, keeping her paralyzed for a few seconds where she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to yell at Brett or push her into the wall and kiss her senseless. She noticed how Brett also seemed to stand rooted to the spot for a moment and she didn't even have the excuse of having to balance a coffee in her hands. They passed each other with no more than an awkward nod to acknowledge the other’s presence before Brett nervously averted her eyes, refusing to meet Agniesza’s gaze. For a moment, Agniesza played with the idea of smashing the mug of coffee against the opposite wall and blocking the path for Brett right then and there. In the end, though, she concentrated on transporting the beverage safely into the confines of her office. She didn’t look back at Brett again.

Before Agniesza had even finished her coffee, there was a knock on her door. Ignoring the small twinge of unbidden excitement – Brett would certainly not come knocking on her door right now, at least not if she knew what was good for her – Agniesza straightened behind her desk. “Igen?”

But it was Brett after all who slowly entered her office and leaned against the door she shut behind her. “Are you okay?”

Agniesza willed herself to take slow breaths and not let her temper get the better of her. “What do you want?” She thought she sounded commendably calm.

“To see how you are?” Brett asked softly. She canted her head to the side as she asked, her hands behind her on the door against her back.

It was only too bad that the soft tone of voice and the way her hair fell into her eyes at the question made her look entirely too endearing to allow Agniesza concentrate. “How do you think I feel?” she asked archly.

“I’m so sorry.” Brett walked a few steps into the room, trying to gauge Agniesza’s reaction. “I thought we were finally becoming friends, after Ikea and the bike ride…”

“My friends usually don't run out on me,” Agniesza observed with coolness.

Brett shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, but you probably don't go around kissing them like that, either.”

“If they kiss me back like you did…” Too late, Agniesza realized that this had been the wrong thing to say. She could literally see the shutters go down, Brett’s face taking on a much more reserved expression.

“I’m really sorry about that.” Her tone was sympathetic, in a way that sounded somewhat schooled.

Agniesza didn’t want professional pity, just as she didn't want Brett to apologize for the kiss, but for running out on her. “I’m not here to make you feel better about it,” she snapped. She didn't really want to lose her temper, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted a reaction from Brett, any reaction, not this compassionate front. “So why don't you take your sympathetic act elsewhere, as you can see, I have work to do.” With an unnecessarily hard tug, she reached for the next folder and opened the first page.

Brett didn’t say anything to contradict her and Agniesza, not looking up, could hear the steps as Brett turned and walked towards the door. She only looked up when she heard the sound of the door opening, but Brett didn’t look back at her and although Agniesza wanted her to stay, in the end she didn’t say anything at all.

*************

On Thursday, they had lunch at some small joint just off campus that was apparently famous for its pizza. Joanna didn't know where they were exactly, only that it had been a very short drive with the car. The place was packed with mostly students and she was surprised how unperturbed Eliane was, who usually avoided student haunts. Perhaps it was different because she knew the place from her own student days. According to Eliane, half the Department of Comparative Literature used to come here for lunch, and Joanna noted that this apparently hadn’t changed much because as soon as they entered, they got waved over by a small woman who sat at a table with Rohan. She had to be in her late fifties, with curly dark hair and an array of rings on her fingers. Joanna thought she looked very French and was amused when the woman introduced herself as Régine, another one of Eliane’s colleagues whom she hadn’t met yet and who indeed came originally from France.

In the small place, Joanna and Eliane ended up next to each other on a bench lining the wall, their thighs touching underneath the table out of sheer lack of space. It was very distracting, especially while facing Eliane’s colleagues, but Joanna didn’t mind. She kept her eyes on her plate, though, studiously avoiding looking at Eliane.

“How can you feed the poor girl this pizza?” Régine asked who was eating salad instead. She shook her head and took a sip from her very tall glass of iced tea.

Joanna didn’t think the pizza was bad. In fact, it was rather good. It just wasn’t what she’d call pizza since it came in a dish and was thick and bubbly.

“If she wants the real IU experience, she needs to have Chicago-style pizza in here at least once,” Eliane stated, tearing into her own dish with gusto.

“Only because you can stomach just about anything, Darhayne…” Rohan commented between two forkfuls of his lunch that, notably, also wasn’t pizza but some kind of steamed rice with vegetables.

“And in this heat, you can't eat anything anyway,” Régine complained, fanning herself. The glass of iced tea next to her was almost empty.

“I could do without the broccoli,” Eliane conceded easily.

Joanna peered onto Eliane’s plate and the wide array of ingredients on her pizza. “I’d be more concerned that they deem corn and pineapple to be pizza toppings.”

“Those are perfectly fine,” Eliane protested and scowled at Joanna in good humor. “The Italians simply corrupted you.”

Régine perked up at that. “You studied in Italy?”

“Yes, I researched one of my Ph.D. projects there, in the North, in Parma…” Joanna was glad to talk about work. It was easier to think that way than with Eliane scowling at her playfully.

“Beautiful,” Régine agreed. “I always preferred Rome, but the heat…!”

From the corner of her eyes, Joanna saw Rohan smile discreetly. “So, Joanna…” he asked gleefully instead. “Since you are living with her now, tell us the answer to the eternal question: Does Darhayne actually sleep?”

Joanna caught Eliane’s nervous intake of breath and looked down at her plate for a second, stupefied. “Eventually,” she then allowed, her voice thin to her own ears. She didn’t think Rohan could possibly guess why Eliane had slept so little these past few nights. Or who had been keeping her up.

Régine laughed. “Nice to know you’re only human, Eliane. Even if just barely.”

“I’ve been telling you for years, it’s the coffee she’s drinking!” Rohan reminded Régine before he addressed Joanna again. “Does she make you drink that brew?”

“You forgot I lived in Italy,” Joanna pointed out with a smile. “I actually like strong coffee. – But as for the rest of our institute…”

“Losers,” Eliane grumbled under her breath, but with a smile. She pushed another stem of broccoli to the side of her dish, and Joanna automatically reached over with her fork and took the discarded vegetables. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Eliane stated wryly, without even thinking about it.

“It’s not as if you would eat them…” Joanna retorted easily, before she trailed off, recognizing with shock what just had occurred when Rohan looked up sharply across the table, his gaze flickering back and forth between her and Eliane. Unlike him, Régine seemed to miss the significance of the moment, distracted by trying to signal for another iced tea. Joanna didn’t dare to look at Eliane, but she could see at the edge of her vision how Eliane’s knuckles were white with the grip she kept on her fork.

“Don't get any ideas about getting any of my vegetables,” Rohan joked into the tense atmosphere, dissolving it neatly. “Unlike Darhayne, I like them just fine.” He was still eyeing the pair of them curiously, though, enough to make a blush crawl up Joanna’s cheeks.

“It’s probably why you turned out taller than she did,” Régine observed jovially. She looked at Joanna with suspicion. “And you probably had a stash of broccoli nearby growing up… or do you make it a habit to steal from other people’s plates?”

“Yes, it’s my kleptomaniac tendencies showing,” Joanna stated brazenly, desperately trying to distract Régine from any further questions. “I admit to it.” Her reply made Régine laugh, deflecting her curiosity for now, and under the table, Joanna could briefly feel Eliane’s hand on her thigh, still somewhat unsteady, but in a gesture of grateful support.

Régine kept looking at Joanna for a moment longer, her expression now appreciative. “You have someone with humor in your Leipzig team,” she commended Eliane. “Good for you!”

“Yes, really good for you,” Rohan agreed with a small smile. Joanna wasn’t sure whether she had imagined the fleeting gesture, but she could have sworn Rohan had winked at her. “But don't think you get out of telling us about that book you’re working on, Darhayne.”

“Let me guess – Angus couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Part of Eliane was amazed at how she could continue the joking conversation so easily while actually, she was still shaking inside.

“Eliane, you know better than to tell him if you aren’t ready to share…” Régine stated knowingly. “So what are you tackling this time? Narrative theory again?”

In talking about her latest writing project, Eliane regained her poise and the rest of their lunch break was governed by an animated conversation about various literature theorems and the supposed merits of various academics who had published about them.

When they left, Eliane held Rohan back with a hand on his arm. “Rohan – about what you… about Joanna…”

“Don't worry.” Rohan smiled as politely as he always did. “I won’t tell anyone.” At Eliane’s confounded look, he shrugged, a tad embarrassed. “I won’t pretend I’m not surprised… but it suits you.” He regarded her for a moment longer, as if he had never really looked at her before. “It really suits you. – And just from how she came to your rescue in there, she seems to be a lovely person. Congratulations.”

“Thank you…” Eliane blinked in confusion. She hadn’t expected such graceful acceptance on his part, and struggled to find a way to explain herself.

But for Rohan, that had apparently been sufficient and he easily changed the topic. “So when do you think you’ll have the manuscript for the new book done?”

“I don’t know,” Eliane said, falling into step with him as they walked to the parking lot. “I was hoping early next year…”

Since Régine and Rohan had arrived in their own cars, it was just her and Joanna on the drive back. As soon as the car doors closed behind them, they turned to look at each other, neither of them sure what to say.

“That was unexpected,” Joanna finally offered. “I’m sorry about the vegetables.”

“Don’t be.” Eliane shrugged. She wasn’t angry with Joanna, only with herself. “You weren’t the one calling me ‘sweetheart’ in there.”

“But I could have been,” Joanna pointed out, covering Eliane’s hand with her own across the barrier of the center console between the seats. “Lil. It’s going to be all right. – Régine was busy rehydrating, I don't think she noticed anything. And Rohan seemed okay with it, just surprised.”

Eliane nodded, still stupefied by his reaction. “He just congratulated me.”

Joanna smiled. “You underestimated him.”

“Seems I did,” Eliane agreed, navigating them out of the parking lot and onto the short drive back to campus. “Are you going to the library again this afternoon?” she asked when she maneuvered them into their customary spot in front of the guesthouse.

Joanna glanced at her watch. “I was thinking about typing up some notes…”

The sound of Eliane’s cell phone interrupted them. Not recognizing the number on the display, Eliane frowned as she answered it. “Darhayne.”

The voice at the other end of the line chuckled. “Hi Elly. – Still just as big on formalities?”

Eliane would have recognized that voice anywhere, even if just by a chuckle. “Louise,” she acknowledged, torn between honest pleasure and nervous unease. She glanced over at Joanna who clearly wasn’t pleased in any way. “Just a moment…”

But Joanna was already loosening her seatbelt, motioning for Eliane to take her time while she got out of the car. She ambled over to the entrance steps, sitting down in the shade of the house.

“You’re not really checking the IU lecture announcements very thoroughly, are you?” Louise asked with amusement.

“No… not really…” Eliane replied distractedly, watching Joanna through the front window and taking note of the way her legs easily encompassed three full steps as she sat down.

“I thought so,” Louise conceded at the other end of the line. “Because otherwise you’d know that I’m giving a lecture at IU tomorrow afternoon.”

“You are?!” Eliane exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, it’s a joint project with Pam, about her research,” Louise explained. “You’re of course very welcome to come listen to it, but I’m guessing you’re still teaching at three p.m.”

“You’d be right about that,” Eliane said, almost regretting the fact. She hadn’t heard Louise speak in a long time and she was also curious as to what Pam would be like.

“But I thought perhaps we could have dinner afterwards?” Louise suggested and only someone who knew her as well as Eliane once had could have told that she was nervous about the question. “Just you and me? – Pam has a dinner meeting with the dean.”

“Sorry,” Eliane declined, suddenly grateful that she had plans already. “I’m in Terre Haute for the weekend.”

“Seeing Emily?” Louise questioned after a moment.

“Yes.” It wasn’t that Eliane didn’t want to see Louise, but after their last meeting almost a decade ago, where Louise had been crying desperately and Eliane had finally fled the scene, there was a lot of trepidation to the prospect.

Louise didn’t reply right away, as if she was expecting Eliane to change plans. “We only fly in tomorrow,” she then stated regretfully. “Too bad. – But perhaps we can have lunch in Terre Haute on Saturday? Pam would like to visit Lake Monroe anyway, she could drop me off… Is your mother still staying in the old house?”

“Actually, she moved…” Eliane replied. She remembered bringing Louise home for the first time and the way her mother had disapproved of just about anything about her. And yet Louise had gone back with her, several times, even though Emily Darhayne never made it a secret that she didn’t like her.

“Well, give me the address and we can go out for lunch or a bad coffee and catch up on things,” Louise said, either more at ease with her memories or not even recalling them anymore.

“Sure,” Eliane agreed, wondering just when she had lost control of this conversation.

“Great. I’ll call you when we’re in town,” Louise concluded and for a moment, she sounded so much like Eliane remembered her, full of energy and happy warmth. “Oh, and don't work too hard, Elly. You sound stressed!”

“You take care, too, Sailor…” Eliane replied, hung up on memories that were more than a decade old. “And good luck with the lecture!” Despite Louise’s wishes, she felt considerably under stress when she closed the connection. She remained seated in the car for long moments, just breathing in and out. So this weekend she wouldn’t just introduce her new girlfriend to her mother, but also face her girlfriend from almost a decade ago, for the first time since their disastrous breakup.

The feeling of stress didn’t dissipate when she got out of the car and saw the look on Joanna’s face as she walked closer. Oh brother. “That was Louise.”

“That much I heard,” Joanna said with reserve. She slowly uncoiled from the stairs.

“She’s in town this weekend,” Eliane explained. “Tomorrow, she’s giving a lecture here. With her partner.”

“Hmm.” Joanna pushed her hands into the pockets of her pants. “Should we go there?” By her tone it was clear that she was not inclined to do so.

“Actually, she wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow, but I told her I’d be in Terre Haute for the weekend,” Eliane said as casually as possible and was annoyed by how she felt pressured to downplay everything in face of Joanna’s obvious dismay. “She’s out at the lake on Saturday so I’ll have lunch with her then.”

“At your mother’s?” Joanna asked sharply.

“No, someplace in Terre Haute.” Eliane shrugged. She was nervous enough about meeting Louise, period, she didn’t care much where it would take place. “Perhaps one of our old joints.”

“Sounds lovely,” Joanna observed acidly.

“Joanna – it’s just lunch, for God’s sake!” Eliane’s patience was wearing thin. “It’s no different than you having dinner with Caterina when we were at the symposium in Italy.” She conveniently forgot to mention that she had been jealous just the same.

“I didn’t bring her to see my mother while you were there!” Joanna said angrily. “And we weren’t even together back then!”

“Joanna – don't make a scene out here,” Eliane snapped. “Look. It’s sudden for me as well, but I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to mend some fences. I treated her horribly and I should at least apologize in person.” She gave Joanna a stony look. “So I’ll have lunch with her on Saturday.”

“Who knows, perhaps your mother will invite her for dinner if she’s around already?” Joanna asked coolly before she brushed past Eliane, walking off into the other direction.

“I wish my mother had just once issued an invitation to her in all those years,” Eliane mumbled, incredulously staring after Joanna. For a moment she considered running after her, but didn’t think it would do much good to try and talk to Joanna if she was as irrational as she was at the moment. Also, Eliane reminded herself defiantly, she hadn’t done anything wrong, it was Joanna who had suddenly been so steamed up without reason.

She walked up to the apartment and gathered her things for her afternoon lesson. There would be time to talk to Joanna later, when she had calmed down somewhat. Still, throughout her class, Eliane’s thoughts kept wandering off. She didn’t understand why Joanna was so upset about her meeting with Louise. As queasy as Eliane felt about it herself, she could have used the calm support Joanna usually offered when it came to questions of work and research, and not this outburst.

When she returned from her lesson, already a little later than usual since some of the students had come up to her with individual questions afterwards, she found the apartment still empty. The quiet made her uncomfortable and Eliane decided to walk over to the library to pick Joanna up. Perhaps they could get some dinner on the way back and talk more calmly about their weekend plans. But Joanna wasn’t at the library, neither in the literature section where she had camped out the past few days, nor in the cafeteria. She had said something about typing up her notes, Eliane remembered, but if Joanna hadn’t been to the apartment, she didn’t even have her laptop with her.

Torn between annoyance and worry, Eliane recalled the night she had spent waiting on the stairs in front of Joanna’s apartment door and decided not to be unduly nervous for now. Withdrawing and mulling things over on her own for a few hours might just be Joanna’s method of dealing with conflict and if that was the case, Eliane supposed she could try to get used to it. This certainly wouldn’t be their last argument along the road that they had only just begun paving for themselves. But even though she kept telling herself that Joanna, all episodes of irrational defiance aside, could very well look after herself, Eliane had begun to worry about her anyway by the time she heard the key turn in the lock. It was almost seven.

Joanna kicked her shoes off by the door and slowly walked into the room. “Hey.”

Eliane looked up from where she was working at the coffee table, its surface once again scattered with notes and folders. “Where the hell were you?” She was more annoyed than mad. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“I sat by the fountain for most of the afternoon.” The slight sunburn on Joanna’s cheeks was testimony to her statement. She stood in the middle of the room as if she wasn’t sure she was in the right apartment, her stance betraying her discomfort. “I’m sorry for running off,” she finally said. She walked closer with measured steps and Eliane cursed herself for melting away under the disarming rueful glance directed her way. “I just needed some space to think.”

Eliane pushed her folders to the side with a negligent gesture and sighed. “So can we try to talk about it now?” She peered up at Joanna. “And just so I know, is this going to be the standard way we fight?”

“You plan on fighting with me more often?” Joanna asked with a frown that was somewhere between peeved and amused.

“Of course,” Eliane deadpanned, but then she couldn’t help it and had to smile. “I plan on doing a lot of things with you for a long time to come. And fighting will most likely be one of them, as well.”

“We can't become too mellow there,” Joanna agreed, echoing the smile. Although if Eliane kept smiling at her in that slightly reckless way, she probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight at all. “And to think that we used to yell at each other enough to put the fear of God into poor Eleonora…”

“Well, we don't have to go back quite that far.” Eliane leaned back against the sofa. “But how about next time, you tell me why you’re mad before you storm off, so I can prepare my defense speech for later?”

“Next time?” Joanna arched an eyebrow at her. “I hope you don't keep any more exes around who decide to ask you out for lunch.”

“Why does the idea of me having lunch with Louise bother you so much?” Eliane asked with honest confusion. After a decade and a break-up, which disastrous proportions Joanna was well informed about, Eliane thought there was clearly no reason for any kind of jealousy.

In face of Eliane’s aplomb, Joanna didn’t feel comfortable admitting that she was afraid – afraid of the shared history Louise could wield over Eliane, afraid of Eliane being drawn in by old memories, afraid of losing out in comparison. “Because I’m nervous enough already about meeting your mother who seems to mistake me for a Hell’s Angel,” she replied instead and let herself sink onto the other side of the couch. “I really don’t need having to compete with your gorgeous ex in addition.”

“There is no competition,” Eliane stated soberly. “I’m with you. And I don’t want to be with anyone else.” She glanced at Joanna suspiciously. “You think she’s gorgeous?”

“Please.” Joanna all but rolled her eyes. Anyone, possibly including people without sight, would agree to the fact that Louise Richardson was gorgeous.

Something else occurred to Eliane. “How do you even know what she looks like?”

“I looked her up last time, when she called you at the institute,” Joanna confessed, intently studying her own hands for a moment.

“Then your information is probably more recent than mine,” Eliane observed with amusement. She turned to peer at Joanna with mock distrust. “Should I be jealous?”

That finally broke the tension and Joanna laughed. “No, of course not.” She sobered, looking at Eliane with remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you earlier.” Absently, she sorted the papers in front of her into neat stacks. “I’m just really nervous. …and damn it, Lil, she was with you for years! You have this whole tragic history of breaking up because you didn’t want to be out… and now you are. – What if she wants you back?”

“Then her girlfriend will probably kill me,” Eliane deadpanned. “She’s some stout whale researcher who does daring expeditions. I’d most likely end up harpooned.” She took Joanna’s arm and drew it across her own shoulders, maneuvering herself closer. “Unless you’d save me?” She playfully batted her eyelashes at Joanna.

Even though she didn’t want to, Joanna had to chuckle at the image. “Of course I would.” She let Eliane draw her closer with two fingers hooked under the neckline of her top and willed her insecurities away. The kiss was gentle and almost hesitant, as if they had just crossed another bridge on their way toward each other, and weren’t sure yet how to tread with their paths intertwined more closely than before.

Joanna focused on the warmth of Eliane tucked against her side, painfully aware that she would never take this for granted. There was a downside to finding something this close to perfect: with it came the knowledge that now she had so much more to lose.

Eliane seemed to sense her slightly pensive mood because she pulled back and gave Joanna a quizzical glance. “So are you okay with this? Me having lunch with Louise?”

“Sure.” Being asked or considered like this had actually been all Joanna wanted, as she realized now. “Just as long as she stays on her side of the table.” She briefly wondered whether Louise would snatch the broccoli off Eliane’s plate, as well, and she hated the image.

“Oh please – after how I treated her?” With her head leaned against Joanna’s shoulder, Eliane was oblivious to Joanna’s brooding expression. “And besides, all that is water under the bridge.” She shifted a little closer in the embrace. “There is absolutely no reason to be jealous.”

Joanna was quiet for a moment. “You haven’t seen her in so long,” she said then. “How can you even know what will happen when you see her?”

“I can’t,” Eliane allowed. She leaned back a bit so that she could look at Joanna. “But whatever happens, I know it won’t change that, however much I may have loved her once, I love you now.” She reached for the hand that Joanna had still draped around her shoulders. “All right?” Only then, faced with Joanna’s increasingly stupefied expression, did she become conscious of what she had said. She hadn’t planned on it and in this context, it certainly wasn’t the big declaration she might have envisioned down the road, but regardless, she stood by what she said. And even if it was too soon for a huge declaration now, this was perhaps the seed of what was to come if they continued through the months and possibly years that lay ahead of them. Joanna still hadn’t said anything and Eliane took in the stunned silence with a fond smile. “Could I actually have succeeded in rendering you speechless?”

Joanna smiled feebly and adapted to the lighter tone with relief. “If you throw around such big words…” She would have to think about these words later, on her own, because right now they echoed through her with such intimidating force that she couldn’t bear looking at them.

“I am an academic,” Eliane pointed out nonchalantly. “I make my living off big words.” But behind the easy attitude, she was as conscious as Joanna of something huge and imposing behind their phrases, something that seemed to be larger than the both of them. And suddenly the apartment was too small, and the campus too narrow. She wanted to be out running in the fields again, just like she had been as a kid, and run until she couldn’t breathe and stumbled, to then lay on her back and look up at the sky and feel as if the horizon had no limits and as if she could do anything she set her mind to. And she wanted to do it all with Joanna by her side.

“How about a little evening tour?” Eliane stood and tugged Joanna up with her. “We could eat out.”

“Okay…” Joanna supposed she should be more worried and less charmed when it came to the reckless twinkle in Eliane’s eyes that she had learned to associate with all kinds of surprises. “In that case I should probably put on something else.”

“No.” Eliane shook her head, trailing her gaze over Joanna with unveiled appreciation. “Just take an extra shirt or a sweater, and put on some sneakers. This is going to be a real Indiana date.”

“Should I be worried?” Joanna asked wryly, but drawn in by Eliane’s enthusiasm nonetheless.

Eliane hesitated for a moment too long. “No, not at all.” She leaned in and gave Joanna a brief kiss on the lips. “Come on.” She almost forgot to let go of Joanna’s hand when they walked out into the hallway.

Joanna had no idea what to expect, but she gladly joined in Eliane’s sudden good mood. Even Louise seemed merely a dot on the horizon now, unable to penetrate the bubble of happiness that seemed to surround the two of them and that made everything on the outside appear brighter and more amenable. Joanna didn't even make any remarks about the ‘monster car’ this time, as she had dubbed Eliane’s rental of choice.

“The original version would entail a fast food drive thru, of course.” Eliane threw a few towels and the sweater she had hastily grabbed onto the backseat. “But I think we can take a few liberties with the concept.”

And Joanna had to agree that the customized basket of culinary goodies they picked up instead, complete with a chilled bottle of French champagne, looked infinitely more inviting.

“My treat,” Eliane insisted. “Besides, you’ve been cooking for the past few nights, so it’s only fair.”

She seemed intent on getting wherever they were headed before the champagne could warm as much as a single degree, but even Eliane had to slow down when she first left the highway, and then the country road as well, to finally roll to a stop on a poorly graded dirt side road with considerable potholes. High fields left and right enclosed them and even though the sun couldn’t have set completely yet, dusk was already moving up between the stalks.

“Where are we?” Joanna looked around. She had opened the window a while ago, and while the air was still thick and warm from the heat of the day, a slight evening breeze was now palpable even as the car had stopped. It was rustling in the tops of the crops that she now identified as corn and which seemed to block out all other sounds except for the omnipresent carpet of cicadas.

“Nowhere.” Eliane said contentedly. She turned to look at Joanna, a huge smile on her face. “This is Indiana. This is where I grew up.” She opened the car door and jumped out. “Come on.” When she turned to reach for the picnic basket, Joanna had already hefted it, easily carrying it along. “My father used to bring me here… We flew kites in autumn after the harvest. A few miles down the road is a beech tree that I lost one of my first kites to.” She caught Joanna’s smile out of the corner of her eye and added dryly, “Insert Peanuts joke here.”

“It did cross my mind,” Joanna admitted. “But you probably climbed up the tree to retrieve it.”

Eliane nodded. “And fell down and broke my arm.” She was surprised when Joanna reached for her wrist and pulled her close for a kiss. “What was that for?”

“For climbing trees,” Joanna stated with a fond smile. Away from campus like this, Eliane was more at ease than she had ever seen her. This was proven anew when Eliane simply sat down at the edge of the nearest corn field, a bit angled away from the road. “We can't just sit in a field!”

“Of course we can.” Eliane looked up at her unhurriedly. “We did it all the time when we were kids.”

“And now you’re Professor Darhayne,” Joanna reminded her warily, imagining two decorated academics running from an angry farmer with an even angrier dog and a shotgun.

“And now I want to share this with you,” Eliane corrected with a disarming look. “So hand over that basket and have a seat!”

It turned out to be a meal not unlike the late night dinner they had shared in Venice all those months ago, similarly improvised and yet – or perhaps because of it – similarly perfect. Of course, some things were even better. Instead of simple panini, there was a whole array of different specialties, from rice in grape leaves to marinated kalamata olives and baked shrimp. There were small tranches of salmon, and tiny cans of creamy horseradish dip, thick purple grapes and brie cheese. They even had glasses to go with the champagne.

When Eliane popped the cork, it shot off into the field behind them. “I don't think we’ll see that one again,” she commented as she filled the flutes.

“Good thing cork is recyclable.” Joanna accepted one of the glasses, the bubbling liquid leaving a tiny spray on the back of her hand.

“The first thing that comes to your mind is recycling?” Eliane blinked with amusement. “God, I’m truly dating a European.”

“Be careful what you say in front of the European champagne,” Joanna pointed out.

Eliane raised her glass. “In that case…”

It wasn’t just that they didn't have to drink from the bottle this time. Or that it was so much warmer than in Venice, with neither of them having even brought a jacket. But back in Italy, there had only been the first sparks of an attraction that both of them had been unwilling to acknowledge, and they now were together in a way they couldn’t have imagined back then. Although looking at Eliane now in the fading light with her fingers curled around another bunch of grapes, Joanna had to admit that the attraction had been there even then.

It was so much more now, she thought as she reached over to take Eliane’s hand, acknowledging the small, joyous rush of emotion when Eliane intertwined their fingers and leaned closer. In the end they sat with their shoulders touching, just holding hands and pointing out the first stars to each other that appeared low in the sky above the corn stalks, only to find out that neither of them was very good with the names of the constellations.

Joanna caught Eliane looking at her taxingly.

“Have you ever been inside a cornfield?” There was that slightly reckless grin again.

“No,” Joanna stated primly. “The only crops around my boarding schools were usually cow meadows. – Wouldn't you get lost in something this tall?”

“It’s fun, though.” Eliane was still grinning. “Come on, just three feet in …” She stood and tugged Joanna up from the ground with the same startling ease that Joanna remembered from that night in Venice. Of course back then she hadn’t known that Eliane was an accomplished fencer and that her thighs were in even better shape than her arms. “Shoulders first,” Eliane advised, pulling Joanna behind her into the field by a hand. “The leaves have mean edges.”

It was a bit like entering a jungle, sounds and smells intensifying and shadows seemingly taking on a life on their own. The leaves that brushed them appeared to be reaching out for them and Joanna firmly moved with her shoulders first, maintaining her hold on Eliane’s hand. Just as she was about to remark that they had moved into the field a lot deeper than just three feet, Eliane stopped and turned around to look at her. “See, the stalks are even taller than you are,” she stated with a satisfied smile.

It was a silly thing to be excited about, Joanna thought, who wasn’t quite as much at ease among the high, rustling shadows surrounding them, but Eliane’s pleased expression was so endearing that she had to lean in and kiss her. The familiar dizzying rush of excitement washed over her when Eliane’s mouth opened easily under her own, intensified perhaps by the wild smell of the field around them or the effects of the champagne. Eliane’s lips tasted like the late night air, cool in comparison to the hotness of her tongue. The touch was deep and seemingly fathomless, and, lost in the moment and the night around them, Joanna didn’t realize right away that Eliane’s hands were slipping underneath her shirt with intent.

Startled, she pulled back a little. “We can’t do that here – what if somebody shows up?” Running from an angry farmer in a state of dishabille was an even less amenable scenario than the earlier one.

“Who would show up at this time of night?” Eliane breathed close to a shapely ear.

“Is this where you brought your dates as a student?” Joanna asked, trying to sound unaffected, but talking did already prove to be difficult, with Eliane’s fingers edging higher under her shirt in the most distracting way.

“No, but I always wanted to,” Eliane confessed, her fingers sliding up Joanna’s ribs. “Although one of my high school boyfriends tried to, but I just didn't get the clues.”

“I think I’m getting the clues,” Joanna gasped when Eliane’s hand found its mark, a thigh pressing between hers in addition.

Eliane chuckled throatily. “I think so, too.”

Joanna felt the breath on her neck before it was followed by a pair of insistent lips, and she let her head fall back, looking past the tops of the corn stalks into the strip of sky visible above, where the near half moon was hanging like a wedge of lemon. “This is crazy.”

“Yes.” Eliane agreed, so close that her lips grazed Joanna’s neck as she spoke. “And?” She tugged on Joanna’s hands and both of them were laughing as they tumbled to the ground in between the stalks. It was softer than Joanna would have imagined, with small, hayed weeds covering the earth that lay in loose, humid crumbles as if the last furrowing couldn’t have been that long ago.

Joanna blinked up at Eliane who was hovering above her, a hand on each side of her torso. “So is this what they mean by a ‘roll in the hay’? Although technically, it would be a roll in the corn...”

“You don’t know the half of it yet,” Eliane murmured, pulling Joanna’s shirt up with one rough movement, kissing along the newly bared skin. She felt Joanna’s hands wind into her hair, the grip hard, and struggled to balance herself on her elbows.

It wasn’t graceful, but it didn’t have to be. It was just the two of them and for the moment the world ended at the edge of the field. There was no one and nothing else, just the odd yellow tint of the moonlight drawing soft shadows across the heavy curves of Joanna’s breasts and along her neck. Eliane thought that this was what it had to feel like, being at home in the earth under her and in the sky above. In this embrace, she felt as if she could easily span the expanse between the earth and the sky with the fingers of a hand, if only she could draw a hand away from Joanna’s skin, but she couldn’t.

They fumbled toward each other, clothes half discarded – zippers not quite drawn down in the haste to touch, Joanna’s bra pushed up, Eliane’s shirtfront clumsily parted.

Joanna’s hands were on Eliane’s hips, struggling to pull her closer still when Eliane finally managed to edge her fingers past the zipper of her jeans, leaving her gasping. Even the corn and the cicadas around them seemed to pick up the hasty, uneven rhythm of their shared breaths. She could feel Eliane’s teeth against her shoulder and the cool strip of the metallic wristband of Eliane’s watch pressing into her inner thigh. Joanna dug her heels into the soil, trying to ground herself against the onslaught of sensations and couldn’t help but moan at it, her voice blending into the sounds around them. Eliane’s hands were fierce on her body, her touch deep, and Joanna felt her shirt being pushed up higher on her back with every thrust, exposing more of her skin to the earth underneath her. Wedged between Eliane and the ground, she fumbled for the buttons of Eliane’s pants. She had already managed to pull Eliane’s bra half down her torso, but it wasn’t enough – she needed Eliane’s moans against her ear, just as helpless as her own, she needed to taste the sweat on her neck and feel the small quiver in her arm with every push. When the last persistent button finally gave way, she slid in deep without preamble, swallowing Eliane’s groan in a hard kiss. She could feel Eliane’s thighs tremble against her own and was lost in the slick heat of their shared touch. Squinting her eyes, the moon above the stalks became nothing but a thin sliver of light, cast over them like an additional touch against their skin.

Joanna’s breaths came so heavily that for a moment she was sure she would pass out, swept up in the intoxicating smells and sounds and rhythms around her, dissolving into them as everything seemed to implode around her. She felt Eliane collapse on top of her just a breath later, and then only remembered dissolving completely, submerging into a stream of colors and heat, her fingers clawing at the ground and her legs trembling painfully.

When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t sure whether perhaps she had blacked out for a few seconds after all. She stared at Eliane incredulously, all words lost to her, and Eliane gazed back at her with an aching tenderness to her expression. It seemed as if Eliane was smiling, but not quite, as if the moment was too sacred for something personal like that.

And indeed it was reminiscent of something very old, between the corn and the earth, their sweat and their skin, as if they had become part of a greater being, their bodies lent to ancient pagan rites that exceeded their language. When Eliane slowly pulled back, breaking the moment, Joanna almost wanted to weep at the loss. They remained in each other’s arms, as if afraid to get lost if they let go of the other, and slowly, the first, incredulous smiles crept onto their faces.

Eliane’s fingers glistened wetly against the skin of her stomach where they were cooling in the humid night air. Joanna could feel earth against her back and elbows. Now that she was slowly separating herself from the sensations around her again, she became aware of the night chill and the lumps in the earth under her back. She shifted to remove a hard piece of soil that was pressing into her hip, only to laugh when she saw what she had stumbled upon.

“What?” Eliane stopped trying to brush the dirt off her knees and looked at Joanna who held something between her fingers in the dark.

“I found the cork,” Joanna stated, before she again dissolved into laughter, breaking the enchanted mood that had held them in its grasp.

Eliane joined in and let herself fall backwards onto her elbows, her head tilted back as she looked up at the faraway sky above them. She felt Joanna move closer and then reach out a hand to brush through her hair.

“Look at us, we’re covered in weeds and dirt,” Joanna stated with dazed amusement. “We can only hope that nobody sees us when we come back in.”

Eliane turned to look at her, her eyes dark and wide in the muted light. “I know another place we could go first.”

They trudged back to the car, the giddy exuberance not leaving them yet as Eliane threw the vehicle into gear. Again, Joanna had no idea where they were going, but she trusted Eliane who had already led them out of the field without hesitation. Joanna herself wouldn’t have remembered which way they had come, but then her brains hadn’t been really engaged for the last little while.

“We’re carrying the dirt everywhere,” she observed absently, brushing a few crumbs off her seat.

Eliane looked out the side window in concentration, trying to gauge where they were. “Good thing we don't have to clean it.” In the end, she had to turn around, finding the place she wanted to take Joanna only on her second try. It was an abandoned limestone quarry. In driving closer, the shear drop-off that lay ahead could be guessed by the way the light cones of the headlights cut right across it into blackness before Eliane shut off the car.

Once they got out, Joanna could see the near motionless surface water below, accentuated only by the moonlight that reflected off the tiny ripples. It was almost too beautiful to be real. “Where are we?” Joanna wasn’t even aware that her voice had dropped to an awed whisper.

“Still in Indiana,” Eliane replied easily, but even she had to admit that she hadn’t remembered it to be this beautiful. “It’s one of the old quarries. It used to be one of my favorite places when I was still in school. My secret hideout of sorts.” She smiled, a trifle embarrassed at the memory of some of her more melodramatic late teenage moments that she had sorted out sitting in the little secluded spot. It could only be reached over an old set of cutting cables caught between the abandoned blocks of limestone. She hoped they were still there; she hadn’t been down here in years.

“There’s a small set of stairs behind that ledge – at least there used to be.” Eliane got out of the car and reached for the remnants of their picnic basket and the towels she had remembered to take along. “We could wash off our feet, and perhaps have a late night snack by the water?”

She didn’t get further than two steps before Joanna wrapped her arms around her from behind and hugged her close. “Keep this up and you might never get rid of me again.”

“That’s the general plan,” Eliane stated, a shiver trickling down her spine at Joanna’s voice so close to her ear. With wry amusement, she had to acknowledge that she was utterly defeated.

The iron cables – the rusty iron cables, as Joanna pointed out dubiously – were still in place, and once down by the water, even Joanna had to admit that the slightly adventurous climb had been worth it. It was a small basin of sorts that was separated from the rest of the large artificial lake by sheer stone walls and framed by washed out limestone formations.

“The stones are still warm,” Joanna remarked in surprise when she slipped off her shoes.

“This side isn’t steep,” Eliane advised, already rolling up her pants. “You can walk in a few steps.” She treaded ahead into the water, watching how tiny strands of hay began to swim at the surface.

“Okay…” Joanna left her pants and her shirt next to her shoes, walking into the water in just her underwear. The small waves moved softly against her calves and she took a few steps further in before she tilted her head back to glance at the multitude of stars above, overwhelmed by the sight. She took another step, not really thinking about it, stumbled and disappeared into the water with a splash.

Eliane was laughing when she came back up. “It’s somewhat steeper here,” Joanna remarked dryly, shaking excess water from her hair. “And somewhat slippery.” She shot the laughing Eliane a disapproving glare, but couldn’t maintain her indignant façade for long.

In the low light, she couldn’t see Eliane’s eyes, but she could see that she didn’t move her head, intently looking in her direction. Glancing down, Joanna saw that her underwear clung uncomfortably to her body, making the night air feel cooler against her skin. After a cursory glance into the night around them, she stripped off the drenched garments with a few quick movements and tossed them onto the limestone shore.

“What are you doing?” Eliane’s startled yelp carried across the lake.

Joanna, now acclimatized to the water, let herself sink backwards. “Taking a swim,” she called across the brief distance, reveling in the feeling of the water sliding against her skin like a gentle caress.

“Like that?” Eliane asked.

Joanna merely sighed with pleasure. “The water is divine.” She let herself float closer to Eliane until she was at a place where she could stand again. She walked a little closer, her body emerging from the water a bit more with each step. “Why don’t you come in as well?”

“I am in the water,” Eliane pointed out.

“You just ravished me flat out in a cornfield.” Joanna’s voice was nothing if not sultry, a clear reminder of the past hours. “So don’t try to tell me you won’t skinny-dip for reasons of modesty.” She took another few steps toward Eliane, effectively rising from the water and sending glittering drops flying when she threw her hair back over one shoulder. “The water is perfect.”

“You are perfect,” Eliane mumbled, staring at the vision in front of her appearing from the waves like an ancient goddess painted by Botticelli. Rivulets of water were running over Joanna’s breasts and down her stomach, trailing across the wide curve of her hips and down her thighs, and back into the gently moving ripples that were playing around her knees.

Eliane didn’t really think of herself as a very religious person, but right there and then she wanted to bow to whatever deity there might be above and humbly thank them for letting her live to breathe in this single, perfect moment.

Casting a dubious look around, she reached for the buttons of her blouse, silently acquiescing to the beckoning siren’s call from the woman who, in a scant few months, had reached into her heart and turned her into someone she had forgotten she could be, carefree and vulnerable and brave. When she let the shirt slide off her shoulders, very aware of Joanna’s eyes on her, she reasoned that this was just another of these things.

If someone had told her five years ago she’d stand naked in her old teenage hideout, in the arms of an equally naked woman, kissing her passionately, she’d have laughed them out of the room, the scenario too absurd to even cause her unease. Part of her still couldn’t believe she was doing this now: Eliane Darhayne, who out of ingrained habits of modesty tended to avoid doing as much as sleeping in the nude, standing bare under the stars. It was strange that now, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, something old and yet timeless, and for a few precious minutes, easily floating through the cooling waters and watching the moonlight on the rippling waves around her with Joanna’s hands in her own, it was the Golden Age, or Arcadia, or perhaps both.

With the exception that in Arcadia, the water probably wouldn’t feel chilly after a while. But even though they eventually exited with their teeth chattering, it didn’t take away from the mood.

“You planned this,” Joanna accused laughingly, attempting to pull her jeans over the last drops of water on her legs. She left the wet underwear discarded where it lay. “Or why did you bring towels?”

“I thought we could dip in our toes,” Eliane protested while she attempted to towel her hair at least partially dry.

“Yeah, right.” Joanna came up behind her, enveloping her in her arms. “I’m not buying it. Not after the cornfield.”

Eliane turned her head to look at her, her teeth glinting in the low light. “I don't remember hearing any complaints.”

“Damn right you didn’t,” Joanna murmured into a conveniently close ear. She locked her arms around Eliane’s waist and pulled her down to sit between her knees. “Now do we have any of these little Greek things left?”

“Anything you want.” Eliane reached for the picnic basket with one hand and snuggled back against the warm body behind her, enjoying that Joanna didn't wear anything under her shirt. She was short of wiggling her toes in sated contentment. A single beam of light skittered across the waves of the little bay and onwards across the large lake of the quarry beyond, standing out in the otherwise dark and quiet night and illuminating their late night meal.

If Eliane looked at this rationally, she knew she had to be dreaming. There couldn’t be any law of nature that allowed a single person to be this happy, and to have it last.

“I never thought anything could be perfect,” Joanna unbeknownst echoed her thoughts. “But this is.”

“Almost,” Eliane corrected lazily, popping a last grape into her mouth. “We’re fresh out of brie and grapes, though.” With regret, she considered the upcoming morning and the duties that awaited them. “And I’ll need coffee a brick would float in to make it through my lessons tomorrow.”

“I’ll attempt to brew one,” Joanna promised and leaned in for a quick kiss. “And I’ll probably have a cup of it, too.” She reached for a last filled wine leaf. “You know, when Freytag shuts us down, perhaps you could get tenured here. This place does have its perks…”

Eliane chuckled. “Don’t count on me skinny-dipping on a regular basis.”

“Too bad,” Joanna conceded. “How about Martinique, then? I’ll consent to bikinis.”

“And how about some moderate climate?” Eliane asked. If their maverick saving maneuver for the institute failed, perhaps she and Joanna could try to find teaching jobs somewhere together. “The East Coast? Or Scotland?”

“You just want to go someplace where it is too cold to bathe,” Joanna suspected. She put her chin onto Eliane’s shoulder, remaining silent for a few moments. “I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand,” she finally remarked and from her tone, Eliane realized that this wasn’t a joke. “Is that moderate enough?”

Unwilling to leave the enchanted scenery behind, they only climbed up back to the car when the chill not just from the night air but also their own impeding tiredness was catching up with them. Eliane navigated them back into civilization without needing a second try this time around: it was past three in the morning when they finally arrived on campus and stealthily sneaked back into the guest house, leaving last bits of weed in the staircase in their wake.

*************

Bjarne glanced up from where he sat at his computer in the Ph. D. candidate office when the door opened to admit a stressed-looking Brett. He turned for a moment toward the bookshelves behind him that shielded the photocopier and also a very moody Dr. Matysek from view. She had been making copies for the last half hour, but hardly any conversation despite the boring task. Bjarne was secretly relieved that now Brett would be at the receiving end of that attitude. The upcoming confrontation might prove to be more interesting to watch than editing Joanna’s latest ideas for her thesis layout that she had emailed him from Bloomington. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly the woman was doing visiting Darhayne and whether there was anything to the rumors that they were having a torrid affair, but at the moment, there was a more torrid scene about to unfold right in front of him.

He closed his eyes when Brett rounded the shelves and the constant swoosh of the photocopier drew to a sudden halt.

“Brett,” he heard Agniesza state in a tone that sounded at once like ice cubes and chili.

“Princess,” Brett replied amiably, not rising to the bait. “Assembling your seminar readers for the next semester?”

Ignoring her bad mood would of course only rile up Agniesza more, and if Bjarne knew it, Brett had to know it as well. He started to count in his mind and before he had reached ‘four’, he heard the lid of the photocopier come down with more force than necessary.

“I’m done here for the moment,” Agniesza stated hotly over the shuffling of papers. “Just to avoid further confusions.”

Bjarne didn’t have time to wonder what confusions she was referring to since Agniesza was coming back into view in angry stride, her heels leaving imprints on the linoleum from the sound of it. Bjarne didn’t understand how Agniesza could walk on these things, and at such speed at that. Of course, he didn’t complain since they made for a rather nice sight, together with the skirt that flared out around her knees as she brushed past him, sorting through her copies as she walked.

Brett’s voice rang from behind them. “I told you I’m sorry!”

That stopped Bjarne short in his musings – Brett apologizing? Even Agniesza faltered for a moment, Bjarne noted. This was different than their usual arguments. It seemed mellow in comparison, and there were some undercurrents he couldn’t quite make out. He had apparently missed something.

“And I told you where you can shove it,” Agniesza bit back, enlarging her lead in Bjarne’s mental table.

Now that called for a one-liner, with such a forward pass. Bjarne turned toward Brett expectantly, waiting for her to even the score, but the psychologist didn’t say anything, she just looked at Agniesza with an expression that was almost sad.

It seemed to distract Agniesza as well because when she resumed her angry path toward the door, she lost the grip on her haphazardly stacked photocopies, which sailed to the floor without hurry, completely at odds with the current mood in the room.

Agniesza muttered something in Hungarian under her breath, it didn’t sound kind, and knelt down to pick up her scattered papers. Bjarne remained transfixed for a moment, noting how the anger only seemed to contribute to Agniesza’s beauty, her eyes flashing and her breaths coming quicker. Before he could stand up to offer a hand, Brett had already knelt down next to Agniesza and silently helped her gather the copies. The tension they gave off them was thick enough to be cut with a knife and Bjarne wisely stayed out of it.

When Agniesza bent forward to retrieve a paper that had come to rest a bit farther away, it was impossible not to note the way her top framed her cleavage, now allowing a deeper gaze. Also, her skirt had slid up a little, allowing a glimpse of creamy thigh. Just as Bjarne realized that he was staring, he caught Brett looking down Agniesza’s shirt just the same way. Unfortunately, Agniesza caught on to the gaze as well and Bjarne winced in sympathy, certain that the Hungarian would rip Brett’s head off.

None of it happened, though and the arch look Agniesza gave Brett instead was challenging more than anything else. For a moment, Bjarne felt as if he had ended up in a movie scene he wasn’t supposed to witness as the two women stared at each other at very close distance. For a moment, he could have sworn that they were going to kiss, but then Brett leaned back and merely held out the collected papers. “Here you go.”

Another, brief exchange of glances occurred that had Bjarne gulp, but then Agniesza accepted the papers and rose from the floor with aplomb. “Thank you.” The sound of the door falling shut behind her echoed loudly through the room.

“Brett!” Bjarne all but squealed, addressing the psychologist who was still kneeling on the floor, staring at the door with a dazed expression. “Did you see that look she gave you? She almost kissed you!”

“I don’t care,” Brett stated blandly while she stood. Then she gave Bjarne a taxing look. “And you just want us to save you the money for the pay channel!”

“Hey!” Bjarne protested indignantly, adapting to Brett’s joking tone even though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Brett wasn’t as unperturbed as she tried to seem. “You were looking down her shirt just the same.”

“Bjarne!” Brett clearly didn’t want to be reminded of that.

“Not that it’s any of my business, Brett, but… she nearly kissed you.” Bjarne didn’t claim to understand why Agniesza did the things she did, he had given up on that as much as Brett had, but he didn’t understand why Brett had let the moment pass. “Why did you pull back?”

“You’re right, Bjarne,” Brett answered tiredly. “It’s none of your business.”

She walked toward the door, leaving a confused Bjarne behind. “You know, I think it’s a cardinal sin against karma or something if you say no to such an opportunity…” he called after her retreating back.

Brett turned around once more, shaking her head at him. “Bjarne, karma is a Buddhist belief.” She leaned against the doorframe. “And cardinal sins are catholic.”

“So is Agniesza,” Bjarne pointed out readily. “And if you don't jump at that very non‑catholic chance, you’re spitting karma in the face, Buddhist or not.”

That raised at last a small smile on Brett’s side. “I wish things were that easy.” With that, she left Bjarne behind and returned to her office. It was clear that things between herself and Agniesza couldn’t go on this way, not if even Bjarne was starting a running commentary. Brett had really tried to not react at all this time, and yet again they had ended up somewhere between anger and desire, with that hurt confusion mixed in that recently seemed to thread through all their interactions.

She didn’t get a chance to distract herself from the topic because as soon as she had sat down behind her desk, the door to her office opened unannounced, and Agniesza pushed into the room, giving Brett a wordless glance before she closed the door and leaned against it. “This is ridiculous.”

“What is? Giving Bjarne a floorshow?” Brett guessed, still somewhat irked by their near-loss of control.

Agniesza just gave her a condescending look. “If you think that was a floorshow, you’ve clearly never been invited to a real one.”

“Ya think?” Brett stood up, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Much as she didn’t want to rise to the bait, there was something about Agniesza’s attitude that drove her nuts despite her best intentions.

“See?” Agniesza said, but it sounded less triumphant than confused. “This is what I mean, this… this thing between us.” She gestured with her hands. “It’s ridiculous! And I don't care whether it’s the season or hormones or food poisoning, but it has to stop.”

“For once we agree.” Brett laughed without humor.

Agniesza nodded, barging on. “Since the idea of anything serious between us is idiotic…”

“Utterly idiotic,” Brett chimed in hastily. “It’s preposterous!”

“Exactly!” Agniesza agreed with agitation and a little too much intensity to be sincere. “So we should get this over with, so that we can concentrate on more dignifying options again. – Well, at least I. You didn't really seem to be into options.”

Brett ignored the jibe. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Simple.” Agniesza shrugged, giving Brett another of those haughty, challenging glances. “My place, tomorrow evening. – I trust you remember the way?” When Brett nodded mutely, she walked closer, her expression almost a sneer. “Oh. I forgot.” She wrapped the light, gauzy shawl she wore from around her neck and tossed it onto Brett’s desk. “Bring this in case you need an excuse. – I’d like to have it back tomorrow night by nine.”

With that, she marched out of the office, leaving a bewildered Brett behind.

*************

Joanna leaned against the wall opposite Eliane’s classroom, watching the first students trail out into the corridor. Prof. Darhayne had done the unthinkable and ended her Friday afternoon lesson half an hour early so that they wouldn’t get into the weekend traffic on their way to Terre Haute.

Despite her nervousness, Joanna couldn’t wait to leave. Even though they hadn’t spoken of it again, she was still uncomfortable with the idea of Louise being this close by and she was half afraid that the woman had finished her lecture early, as well, and was lurking around the corner.

All nagging thoughts vanished, however, when Eliane, one last student walking next to her, finally exited the classroom, a smile lighting up her face as soon as she saw Joanna waiting for her. Joanna couldn’t help but echo the smile, easily transported back in time a few hours, to last night and how she had held her in her arms in the water. She couldn’t have stopped smiling if she had wanted to. The lights overhead reflected off Eliane’s hair as she walked closer and for one panicked moment Joanna thought she saw a last stem of hay in Eliane’s hair, and that they had been found out. Of course, it had only been the lights and Joanna wryly noted that the three hours last night had definitely been too little in the way of sleep if she was beginning to see things. Although the lack of sleep had definitely been worth it. If possible, Joanna’s smile broadened further.

The student next to Eliane, a serious-looking girl with glasses and long red hair, held out a folder. “I’ve tried to incorporate the sources you mentioned. It would be great if you could give it a look.”

“Sure, Belinda.” Eliane tore her attention away from Joanna for a second and accepted the essay with a friendly smile. “I’d be delighted.” She walked closer, ushering the girl along with her. “Let me introduce you to someone who might be of even more help when it comes to Shakespeare’s sonnets – this is Joanna van de Kreek, a colleague from my Leipzig institute who taught a seminar on the sonnets this past semester.” She looked at Joanna, putting a hand on her arm in an unconscious gesture that lasted just a little too long. “Joanna, this is Belinda, one of my most talented students this summer.”

Joanna held out her hand. “Hello Belinda. Nice to meet you.” She tried to concentrate on the girl in front of her which was hard to do with Eliane’s lingering touch evoking more images from last night, a pale yellow moon and strands of soft hay.

“Likewise.” Belinda looked at her and Joanna had the unmistakable feeling of being sized up.

“Perhaps you could meet with Joanna,” Eliane suggested, gazing at Joanna with unabashed fondness. “I’m sure she could give you some more advice for your thesis.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Belinda allowed and Joanna felt a twinge of pity when the girl’s eager expression froze upon catching Eliane’s expression.

“I could give it a look, if you’d like.” Joanna tried to sound more sober, but it was so hard with Eliane practically beaming at her, dark shadows under her eyes from barely having slept and yet radiating a happiness that was palpable.

Belinda just nodded at the friendly offer.

“Well, have a nice weekend, then,” Eliane addressed Belinda with a dazzling smile the student hadn’t caused and that hadn’t been intended for her.

Joanna could see that it affected Belinda nonetheless, making the student offer a breathless, “You, too.” Joanna saw the change in demeanor when Belinda turned her head to politely nod at her, and then saw her face fall when she noted the small overnight bag on the floor beside Joanna and opted for a hasty retreat.

“That was icy,” Eliane commented with surprise, looking after Belinda. “Usually she jumps at every chance to gain more knowledge.”

“I’d be reserved, too, if I were her,” Joanna said, her shoulder almost touching Eliane’s as she followed her gaze. “She definitely has a crush on you.”

Eliane started to walk towards the exit, and the parking lot. “Nonsense!”

“Believe me, I know it.” Joanna held the door and they walked in silence for a few moments. Then Joanna grinned. “She’s cute, though.”

“Oh, shut up,” Eliane muttered. She gave Joanna a sideways glance. “Why did you dress up? Mind you, not that I’m complaining, but you might get a stroke in these clothes. If anything, Terre Haute is even hotter and more humid than Bloomington.”

Joanna looked down her body. Eliane was right, she felt uncomfortably hot already, even after a mere few steps across the parking lot in the neatly pressed blouse and the pencil skirt that fell just past her knees. She wore low heels with it, so she wouldn’t be unnecessarily towering over anyone. “I just want to make a good impression.” Of course, when Joanna had packed this outfit, she had expected to wear it to a concert or an exhibition with Eliane, and not to meet her mother-in-law.

“You will,” Eliane said warmly. “You look great.” They had arrived at her car and she unlocked the doors. “If Frank is there for dinner, he will probably try to steal you away.”

Joanna winked at her from the other side of the car. “Too bad I’m not immune to the Darhayne charm.”

Eliane looked at Joanna across the roof of the car. “My brother and I are very different,” she said finally.

Joanna felt that there was more to the story, but decided to let go of it for now. Eliane never really spoke of her brother and she knew they weren’t close. Also, if she had to worry about the impression she’d make on another member of the Darhayne family, she’d probably have a nervous breakdown before they even reached Terre Haute.

“There’s still some weed in here,” Joanna remarked, brushing another few strands off her seat before she sat down.

“I’ll keep it as a souvenir,” Eliane stated easily. She turned toward Joanna, her hands on the steering wheel. “Ready?”

“Not at all,” Joanna admitted on a nervous laugh.

Eliane reached for her hand. “Me neither.” She started the car and squared her shoulders. “Let’s go.” The drive was far shorter than she would have liked it to be, now that she was starting to be nervous as well. She remembered how badly her mother had reacted when she had brought Louise home for the first time. She hadn’t told Joanna about that, seeing no use in making her even more anxious than she already was, but as they neared Terre Haute, she vowed to herself to take Joanna by the hand and get her out of there if things became unbearable, the newly improved rapport with her mother notwithstanding. Of course she hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

They didn’t talk much for the entire drive and Joanna didn’t really notice the scenery around them, lost in thought as dark green fields flashing by while heat waves shimmered off the highway pavement. She had joked that Eliane’s mother could hardly be worse than her own, but even that thought didn’t do much to calm her now. Between the icy rejection of Jule van de Kreek and a friendly welcome lay many unpleasant shades of disapproval that she didn’t really care to contemplate.

“We’re here.” Eliane’s voice shook her out of her musings and Joanna glanced up to see them roll into the driveway of a small, two-story house that was surrounded by a carefully kept garden full of colorful flowers. More flowers grew in small pots atop the banister of the spacious porch where an old-fashioned swing further underlined the sense of comfort the place exuded. The entrance door opened before Eliane and Joanna had even fully exited the car, and a small, compact woman strode out of the house with energetic steps, wiping her hands on a kitchen apron as she went. Joanna had to smile at the familiar gait. The woman had more of a red tinge to her hair than Eliane, but she wore it in a very similar fashion. As she walked closer, Joanna could see that she had green eyes, and a multitude of small freckles all over her face.

“Lily! You made it just in time for the barbecue!” the woman called out and came to a stop when she took in Joanna, her gaze trailing sharply over the foreigner who stood at her daughter’s side.

Joanna stood aside while Eliane hugged her mother and then led her over. “Mom, this is Joanna van de Kreek. – Joanna, my mother.”

Joanna had never been so grateful for Eliane’s hand on her back than at this moment. She politely offered her right to the woman in front of her. “Thank you for the kind invitation, Mrs. Darhayne.”

Emily gave her a somewhat bewildered look as she shook her hand. “You’re tall,” she stated with reserve, having to tilt her head back to look Joanna in the eye. She visibly tried to relax and took a deep breath before she nodded at Joanna. “Welcome.” She let go of Joanna’s hand, interlacing her own fingers in front of her stomach. “And call me Emily, please.” She shrugged, a tad embarrassed, a gesture Joanna knew well from another member of the Darhayne family. Next to her, she heard Eliane’s surprised intake of breath. “Well, since you’re seeing my daughter…” Emily trailed off and Joanna realized that Emily was just as nervous.

“Thank you, Emily,” she replied, incredibly relieved by the small display of uncertainty.

“Well, come on in, you both look exhausted from the drive,” Emily briskly turned and walked ahead, missing the small look between Joanna and Eliane that had a lot to do with their state of exhaustion which again had nothing to do with the drive over here. “Joseph is in the yard, I’ll tell him to put the steaks onto the grill…” Emily kept talking to them. “Frank should be here in a little while as well.”

“I’ll carry our things up,” Eliane offered, shouldering their bags.

Emily turned to address her daughter. “I made a second bed on the couch in the guestroom.”

Eliane was already on the stairs to the second floor. “Thanks, Mom.”

Joanna looked after her, thrown by how much younger Eliane seemed talking to her mother. She sounded like a daughter, her demeanor only hinting at the composed professor she had been only hours before.

Meanwhile, Joanna found herself in the kitchen, alone with Emily Darhayne. On the counter lay a variety of food – freshly seasoned steaks, half cut ingredients for a salad and corn on the cob.

“Something to drink?” Emily asked, perhaps not knowing what else to say.

“Water would be great, thank you,” Joanna replied, her outfit uncomfortably hot again since they had left the air-conditioned haven of the car behind. She held onto the glass Emily handed her, uncertain whether she should offer to help when Eliane’s mother returned to cutting vegetables. The silence grew and Joanna became increasingly aware of the ticking of the wall-mounted clock. Looking around, she noted that there was barely a free space on the kitchen walls, which were covered with all kinds of carefully framed photos and little collages.

Joanna turned at the sound of steps behind her to see a man entering the kitchen who, just like Emily, wore a broadly striped kitchen apron. He was a little smaller than Joanna herself, but had a broad chest, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt tight on his upper arms. He had brown hair with streaks of gray that also showed in his beard and bushy brows, giving him a bit of a rugged look. His nose looked as if it had been broken once or twice, but when he smiled at Joanna, she was surprised to see he had very gentle eyes. “Hello. You must be Joanna? – I’m Joseph.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Joanna replied, shifting her glass into one hand and reaching out the other. He looked at her for a moment before he shook it, as if he didn’t expect the formality, and then he smiled again. Joanna liked him immediately.

Joseph shrugged, leaning against the fridge with a shoulder. “So you’re Lily’s…” He cleared his throat and Joanna thought he was blushing a little under his beard. “And you’re working with her?”

“Yes, we’re at the same institute. I used to be her assistant.” Technically, she still was Eliane’s assistant until October, but Joanna didn’t want them to think that Eliane was sleeping with one of her employees. “So what do you do?”

Joseph seemed a bit surprised at the question, but then glanced at Emily who hadn’t stopped chopping vegetables while they talked. “We have a small flower store. We also do weddings and funerals, a lot of delivery…”

The look he gave Emily was every inch the proud boyfriend and Joanna smothered a smile. “That explains the beautiful roses in the yard,” she commented instead. “Did you plant those?”

“You like my roses?” Now that had gotten Emily’s interest. “There are one or two hybrids that I’m trying out, in the backyard…” She gave Joanna a measuring look. “Do you know about roses?”

“Not much. My grandfather has a rose garden, but more as a hobby,” Joanna explained demurely. “He used to teach me the names of the different hybrids when I was a kid.”

“Oh, I’ll have to show you mine, then,” Emily decided. She tossed the last of the ingredients into the salad. “Would you carry this outside for me?”

She held the large salad bowl out to Joanna who hastened to set down her glass. “Sure.” The small chore felt as if she had just passed a secret test.

“The yard is through there.” Emily pointed at the door where Joseph had entered. Between the three of them they carried the food out into the yard where a wooden table was set at a small distance from an old-fashioned grill. If anything, the backyard offered even more flowers, carefully displayed in small beds that were separated by a small, winding cobblestones path. A tiny stone fountain bubbled a bit further away, showing an array of flowers with a cornucopia on top. In the shade of the house wall, enjoying the evening sun, was a variety of roses that entwined themselves around a wooden shelf.

“They are beautiful!” Joanna exclaimed, and meant it.

When Eliane came back down the stairs a few minutes later, she was surprised to find Joanna and her mother in the flowerbeds, Emily pointing something out while Joanna nodded. Joseph stood at the grill, watching the scene with a smile. Eliane took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was trying to get used to seeing the man at her mother’s side. “Hello Joseph.”

Joseph waved at her with the tongs. “Hello Lily.”

The familiarity of the nickname was just another reminder to Eliane that she had known him as ‘Uncle Joseph’ from large family reunions since she had been a little girl. She tried not to bristle.

Joseph expertly placed the first ears of corn on the grill. “Your friend is lovely.” He nodded at Joanna who, somewhat hindered by her skirt, had crouched down next to Emily to look at something.

“Yes, she is,” Eliane agreed with a happy smile. She couldn’t help but rile him up a little. “And it’s ‘girlfriend,’ Joseph. Not just friend.”

“I know, I know,” Joseph said quickly and sorted through the steaks that lay waiting on a plate beside him.

Eliane took pity on him and changed the topic. “You need any help with the steaks?”

“An intellectual touching my grill?” He made a motion as if to shoo her away and drew the cross sign across his front. “God forbid!”

Eliane laughed at the joke, even though it was at her expense. At least Joseph was not tense or in denial over the situation. She could deal with a bit of uncertainty and embarrassment.

“How about you let me help?” A voice sounded from behind them and all four of them turned to see a tall, red-haired man in a t-shirt and bermuda shorts walk toward them.

“Frank!” Emily called out and walked over to greet him, leaving Joanna to observe the scene. The siblings hugged, but the touch did not seem very cordial, not in comparison to how Frank hugged his mother. He slapped Joseph on the shoulder and then looked at Joanna. He was attractive, she decided as he walked closer, with a clear, square face and his mother’s green eyes and freckles. He was tall, towering over Joanna by half a head, but it wasn’t just his size that gave him something bulky and slightly intimidating. Perhaps it was his broad neck, or the way his arms swung at his sides, as if he didn’t know where to put his physical energy.

Joanna unconsciously drew to her full height as he came to a stop in front of her. “So you’re Joanna?” It sounded like an accusation.

“Yes I am,” Joanna replied, straightening yet a bit further. “Frank, I presume? A pleasure to meet you.” Her tone was smooth, as was her smile when she held out her hand to him and he blinked, thrown for a moment by her easy composure before he took her hand, her fingers disappearing completely in his large palm.

“Can I get you anything? A beer maybe?” He seemed surprised to hear himself asking, as if he didn’t want to be impressed by her.

“Frank, she’s used to German beer,” Eliane called over to them, the edge of condescension to her tone probably undetectable for someone who didn’t know her as well as Joanna did. Or as Frank did, whose posture stiffened immediately, becoming more intimidating than before. The small incident told Joanna everything she needed to know about the tense dynamics between the Darhayne siblings.

“I’ll try anything once.” Joanna smiled at Frank, trying to diffuse the tension. “So yes, thank you, I’d like a beer.” She caught Emily’s look that was somewhere between grateful and worried, and then Frank disappeared into the house in his shorts and t-shirt, while Eliane slid her hands into the pockets of her elegant, long pants with deceptive casualness.

Not for the first time, Emily Darhayne thought that things would be easier if Eliane had been born as a boy, and Frank as a girl – if she had a successful son who gallivanted across Europe and brought home girlfriends with exotic foreign names, and a daughter who stayed close to home, supported her and might want to settle down with a family. At the moment, Emily didn't know whether she would ever even have grandchildren. Frank’s latest girlfriend had left him a few weeks ago, and with how Eliane had decided to live now, kids were not really an option. Of course, Joseph’s daughter, from the marriage to his deceased first wife, had children, but they were already in their early teens, and it wasn’t the same thing, really.

She saw Eliane walk over to Joanna and tilt her head to the side as she looked up at her. There was some kind of silent communication passing between them, in the way Joanna subtly shook her head and Eliane casually rested a hand on Joanna’s back for a moment.

Emily hadn’t known that she had held out hope up to this moment that whatever was going on between her daughter and this stranger was just a dalliance that would be over before anyone had even known, some misguided romantic friendship of sorts. She had to swallow heavily at seeing the subtle tenderness in their interactions. There was no way of denying that her Eliane was in love with this woman. And that Joanna loved her in return.

Emily carefully extricated herself from the flowerbed, thinking that at least Eliane had found someone who seemed to genuinely care about her. If nothing else, she could respect that. “Dinner’s about done,” she called over to them after a glance at the grill. She took in how they stood there, Eliane almost leaning against Joanna, whose posture betrayed a subtle tension and whose clothes were too formal and too warm for an Indiana evening like this. “Lily, why don’t you get the poor girl something a bit more comfortable to wear before she collapses,” she suggested easily. “There should be some of your old things left in the guestroom closet.”

“Sure,” Eliane gave her mother a surprised look.

Emily watched them disappear into the house together, noting the way they walked close to each other. They didn’t touch, but just the closeness bespoke a level of intimacy she wasn’t comfortable recognizing. She knew she should be trying to accept it, but it still didn’t look right to her.

When they came back down, Joanna in a pair of loose summer pants and one of Eliane’s old school polos, the red and white emblem of Indiana University stretching across her chest, Emily noted how Joanna’s hairdo was a lot more askew than just a few minutes ago. She valiantly tried not to think about how that might have happened, concentrating instead on serving the first rounds of food and reminding herself that she would try to accept Eliane’s choice.

Dinner turned out to be a surprisingly amiable affair. Eliane and Frank did not argue about religion or politics or family values as they had the past week, and Emily noted with appreciation that Joanna, just like herself, subtly tried to diffuse any comments that would have sparked a discussion on those topics. Of course she had to acknowledge with a twinge of discomfort that this meant that Joanna already knew her daughter very well. On the other hand, she found that she actually liked Joanna who was polite, well-mannered and made a genuine effort to grasp the conversation even when Joseph and Frank got into sports. Frank clearly was taken with her as well, and was at his most charming whenever he talked to her. If Frank had brought Joanna home as a girlfriend, Emily would have been thrilled, but at the heels of that same thought Emily had to admit that Frank would probably be way out of his depth with a woman like Joanna, who was about to receive not one, but two doctoral degrees. The fact that she modestly dismissed this bit of information, which Eliane proudly shared, only managed to endear her more to Emily.

It was with a mixture of relief and trepidation that she watched them ascend the stairs to the guestroom later, after both of them had helped her clean up after dinner despite her protests. In the end, she and Joanna had done most of the work while Eliane had ended up in a long discussion about tax benefits with Joseph. After Frank had left, the tension seemed to fall away from her daughter and Emily noted with contentment that Eliane was becoming a lot more friendly towards Joseph.

“Good night, girls!” she called up the stairs after them.

“Mom, I’m thirty-six!” Eliane protested laughingly at being called a girl.

Emily shook her head. “And I’m still your mother!” She had to laugh as well, not having expected this first evening to go so smoothly. The door to the guestroom opened and closed on the top floor and Emily took comfort in the knowledge that she had made a second bed in there. There really were some things that she did not need to contemplate under her roof.

“Your parents are lovely,” was the first thing Joanna said once Eliane had closed the door behind them. She immediately corrected her lapse. “I mean your mother and Joseph.”

Eliane nodded slowly. “I’m surprised how well it went – she is really a lot more at ease with Joseph around.”

Joanna smiled. “They make a cute couple.”

“I guess,” Eliane allowed.

Joanna sat down on the neatly arranged comforter that covered the sofa. “I think your brother doesn’t like me.” Perhaps it was just the animosity between the siblings transferring over onto her, since it was obvious that Eliane let Frank feel that he was less worldly and educated than she was. It seemed strange that someone like Eliane would revert to such a childish behavior, but after witnessing how Frank seemed to belittle everything Eliane did and refused to be happy for his sister, Joanna supposed it was understandable. Frank clearly resented Eliane for being different, for having gone away, and for being ultimately more successful despite all that. It was telling that one of the few things Eliane had mentioned to her about Frank was how he had always been granted more freedom as a kid, and how her father had ultimately taken him along on his travels instead of her. A lot of this childhood rivalry persisted still.

“Oh, he does,” Eliane contradicted on a short laugh. “More than he wants to. He just doesn’t want to realize that you’re gay. And dating me.”

“You didn't really let him forget about it,” Joanna pointed out gently. Every time Frank had tried to impress her with some story or anecdote, Eliane had casually deflected it, talking of times and places where Frank hadn’t been present.

“He better not,” Eliane stated edgily. “Didn't you see how he was trying to flirt with you in front of me?”

Joanna laughed at the expression of childlike jealousy, reaching out a hand and pulling Eliane closer until she stood directly in front of her. “And didn't you see how I didn't react to that?”

“I’m sorry,” Eliane said with a sigh. “He and I simply don't get along. We never have.” She entwined her fingers with Joanna’s, shrugging dejectedly. “You put us under the same roof for five minutes, and we will start fighting. It’s a given.” She looked on when Joanna pulled down the blankets on the couch. “You’re not planning on sleeping on the couch, are you?”

“Of course I am,” Joanna replied, kicking off her shoes and socks. “I’ve slept on far more adventurous sofas in Italy.”

“You’re too tall for the couch,” Eliane pointed out. “If anyone’s sleeping there tonight, I am.” She stroked Joanna’s fingers in her hold, giving her a sly look. “We could also just share the bed.”

“And your mother?” Joanna questioned warily. “I suppose she put up a second bed for a reason.”

“What she doesn’t know…” Eliane trailed off and shook her head. “Besides, I’m not seventeen anymore.”

Joanna still looked doubtful. “Yes, but under your mother’s roof…?”

“I’ll behave.” Eliane raised three fingers as if to swear the Girl Scoat oath while she pulled Joanna up from her sitting position. “I promise.”

Joanna just raised an eyebrow at her in reply. “Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath. “The last time you looked at me like that, your words were ‘let’s walk just a few feet into this cornfield’, I believe.”

“And did you regret that afterwards?” Eliane grinned and then lowered her head, gazing at Joanna through her lashes. “Please?”

“You’ll never have to ask me whether I want to sleep next to you,” Joanna stated matter-of-factly as she drew down the comforter and climbed into the bed. “The answer will always be yes.” She felt Eliane’s arms wrap around her waist from behind and tried to turn around in the small single bed, leaning in to accept a kiss that was incredibly tender and effortlessly raised a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Leaning back and drawing Eliane half on top of her, she thought that beds this small actually had a few advantages.

*************

When Emily Darhayne returned from an early Saturday delivery, she could hear the sound of the shower as she stepped into the entry hall. Since Joseph had left earlier to help with the flowers for a wedding half way across town, she concluded that it was Joanna who was up this early on a Saturday. Eliane had always slept in on weekends when she had the chance. Emily hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Eliane alone yet, and, if she assumed correctly and the person in the shower was Joanna, this might be a good opportunity. Emily ascended the stairs to find the door to the guestroom slightly ajar and she walked closer, hesitating just outside the room.

She knocked quietly and pushed the door open a few inches when there was no reply, only to freeze at the sight that greeted her.

Eliane and Joanna were sharing the small bed, both still asleep and facing the door, Joanna’s arms securely wrapped around Eliane from behind. The blankets had slipped off their shoulders and Emily could see that one of Eliane’s hands rested unconsciously on Joanna’s even in sleep, as if she wanted to affirm their physical connection. Joanna’s hair fanned out across the pillow behind them, a few strands falling over her face and onto Eliane’s neck.

Emily gazed at her daughter’s face with a strange fascination, taking in how content and serene she looked, at once very reminiscent of the girl she had put to sleep so many times and of an adult woman she didn’t really know, but whose happiness was obvious even in her sleep.

When Emily’s gaze swept over the foreign woman who was holding her daughter, she didn't know what to think. With her hair like this and her features relaxed in sleep, she didn’t look younger so much as ageless in her pose, giving Emily the feeling that she was looking at a classic painting. The tenderness inherent in the embrace gave her pause and before she could draw back, she felt herself blush.

She hadn’t even noticed that the shower had stopped running until she heard the door to the bathroom open and close again. Hastily moving backwards into the corridor, she came face to face with Joseph, who was buttoning his shirt over his chest, his hair still wet from the shower.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked curiously.

Emily motioned for him to keep his voice down. “I didn’t know you were back already – I thought it was one of them in the shower –”

Joseph shook his head. “I gave Patrick the car, he’s doing the delivery for the funeral at eleven for me and dropped me off on his way…” He trailed off, realizing that something else had to be going on. “What happened?”

Emily wordlessly stepped aside and gestured at the slightly opened door to the guestroom. Joseph took one quick glance into the room and then softly closed the door, pulling Emily with him down the hallway by the hand. “How about we set up some breakfast and let them sleep for a while longer?” He smiled at her, gently squeezing her hand. “For what it’s worth, they look happy.”

“I know,” Emily conceded with a sigh. “It’s just… I thought I knew what it would feel like when I invited them, but seeing it like this is still different.” They walked down the stairs, making an effort to be quiet. “But I guess you’re right,” Emily said when they reached the kitchen. “At least I know Lily is happy. – And did you see how she looked at Joanna last night? You would think that woman hung the moon!”

“Didn’t she ever look that way at that professor she was engaged to?” Joseph asked, placing an arm around Emily’s shoulders.

“With Thomas?” Emily snorted. “Not that I remember. She’d probably claim it’s because she always was ‘that way.’”

“Perhaps she was,” Joseph allowed. “And I like Joanna. I don't think she’ll cheat and run off with the secretary, like Thomas did.”

Emily shook her head at him, almost giggling. “I think it’s kind of unlikely that she would get the secretary pregnant.”

Joseph shrugged and noted with a content grin that he had managed to alleviate the momentary discomfort. There was one odd moment when Eliane and Joanna came down the stairs, their smiles radiant, but by the time Joseph left to take care of the store for the morning, all three women were enjoying a relaxed late breakfast.

The muted sound of Eliane’s cellphone rang through the kitchen and Eliane let go of Joanna’s hand that she had been holding underneath the table to retrieve her phone from where it lay on the counter.

“Are you still prone to sleeping in?” Louise’s laughing voice said at the other end of the line. “Listen, I got here early and Pam already took off with her testing kit. How about we meet a little earlier and take a walk before lunch?”

“Sure,” Eliane said slowly, looking at Joanna and her mother who had remained seated, both regarding her expectantly. “We can meet earlier. Where are you right now?”

If she hadn’t felt as tied up in knots about the pending encounter, she would have laughed outright at the similar expressions of displeasure on both Joanna’s and her mother’s faces as they figured out that she was talking to Louise.

Eliane changed into something a little more formal, complete with earrings and somewhat more dressy shoes, as if these outward signs of composure could help to cover up her emotional turmoil. She told Joanna goodbye on the front porch, noting how, despite all assurances to the contrary, she looked somewhat anxious.

“I’m more nervous about this than you are,” Eliane stated before she pulled Joanna close by the collar of that washed-out polo shirt she had already worn yesterday and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “And just so you remember, I’m all yours.”

“I know that,” Joanna stated with a grin and a bit more bravado than she felt. “But does she?”

Eliane shrugged. “I’ll make that very clear,” she promised before she glanced appreciatively at Joanna. “You look good in my old college clothes.”

Joanna looked down her own body. “It’s too small.”

Eliane winked at her. “That’s why it looks so good.” She leaned in to kiss Joanna again, needing that touch to remind her that, whatever she faced in the upcoming hours, this was what she would come back to, and, regardless of how she had behaved a decade ago, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes this time around.

Through the kitchen window, Emily watched, unable to tear her eyes away as her daughter stretched up to kiss this woman she barely knew, in plain sight on the front porch. Emily checked the other side of the street, wishing that Eliane would think about the neighbors and the gossip.

Mulling over uncomfortable thoughts, she didn't stop Joanna who came back into the house and slowly ascended the stairs while outside the sound of Eliane’s car faded down the street. Joanna had said she wanted to work, and Emily wasn’t about to interrupt her. She went out to work in the garden instead, a task that always helped her to organize her thoughts and calm down. Joseph had teased her about it when they had opened the store together, saying that now she would be in a garden around the clock. But now, with him staying over more and more often, he enjoyed helping her out. Emily paused with the pruning-shears dangling from her fingers. So far, Eliane hadn’t asked about Joseph sitting at the breakfast table and she really seemed to make an effort to accept him as more than a distant uncle, but she had no idea how Eliane would react when she told her that she and Joseph were thinking about making things official.

But Emily figured that if she could respect Eliane’s involvement with Joanna, she could expect some tolerance in return when it came to her and Joseph. Her thoughts returned to the woman who was currently sitting in the guestroom, waiting for her girlfriend to return from a date with a former lover, and she suddenly felt shabby for not trying to distract her a little. Joanna didn’t know Louise and she couldn’t be too comfortable with that lunch date. And Louise was quite something. Emily recalled the crush Frank had harbored on his sister’s girlfriend for months.

Leaving the pruning-shears outside and discarding her gardening gloves, Emily went into the house. She told herself that it was a chance to get to better know this woman who spent so much time with her daughter, but on the other hand, she wasn’t sure how much more she wanted to know..

When she knocked on the door of the guestroom, this time louder than in the morning, she found Joanna sitting on the couch, a set of folders balanced a little awkwardly on her knees. She wore thick-dark framed glasses now and held a pen poised between two fingers, blinking at the unexpected interruption.

“Why don’t you come out into the yard with your work?” Emily suggested in a friendly voice. Sitting like this, Joanna didn’t look as intimidating or exotic anymore. She could have been someone from one of Eliane’s former study groups, or one of the private tutors Frank had had in high school. “It’s nicer outside than in here. And how about I get us a drink, as well?” Joanna’s grateful smile made her wish she had asked earlier.

Still, there was an odd silence when they sat on the bench in the shade behind the house with two tall glasses of lemonade. They weren’t really sizing each other up, but each was aware that the other knew and held a part of Eliane she herself wasn’t privy too.

“Do you work on the same things as Lily?” Emily asked with a nod at the folders Joanna had brought down into the garden.

“This is an essay from one of her students, yes.” Joanna placed a hand atop the stack. Another awkward silence ensued.

“And do you give lectures as well?” Emily inquired then, wishing Joanna worked in gardening instead so that they would have a topic to talk about.

“Oh – no.” Joanna shook her head, reminding herself that Emily wouldn’t know the curriculum. “Only the professors give lectures. I don’t even have my Ph.D. yet. But I hold seminars, and of course I help Eliane with her work and her research.”

“She is good, isn’t she?” Guarded pride shone through Emily’s expression.

“She’s the best,” Joanna stated with absolute conviction. “I actually applied for the job at her institute because her work impressed me so much.”

Emily didn't want to admit that while she had Eliane’s books proudly displayed on her shelves, she had never actually read them. She had tried, but never really understood what her daughter was trying to prove with the words of all these French philosophers. Despite her pride, it made her feel left out of a big part of Eliane’s life, and she now used the chance to hear about it from someone who shared this part. “She works very hard, doesn’t she?”

“She’s a workaholic,” Joanna consented with a laugh that was tinged with a bit of frustration. “You wouldn’t believe the times I have had to drag her away from some script or essay to make her eat!” Only after there was no reply, and she looked over at Emily who was staring at her folded hands, did Joanna realize that this last comment might have implied a bit too much intimacy, and she hurried to tone it done somewhat. “I mean, if I didn't bring her lunch into the office half the week, she wouldn’t eat all.”

“Yes, she was the same way when she got a new book as a child…” Emily smiled wistfully, and Joanna couldn’t tell if it was at some memory, or at the fact that there was someone she barely knew was taking care of Eliane. Emily took a deep breath, resting a hand atop Joanna’s for a moment. “I’m glad you’re looking out for her a little.”

“I’m trying,” Joanna said honestly, absurdly pleased by the gesture. “She’s very stubborn, though.”

“God yes, she got that from her father,” Emily stated with a wry laugh that sounded so strangely familiar. “Works until she drops, and tries to resolve everything on her own.”

“Yes.” Joanna agreed, and she thought that Eliane was becoming better about sharing her worries with her. “And she has always been like that?”

“Always,” Emily conceded with a sigh. “Even as a little kid.”

“What was she like?” Joanna asked curiously, trying to imagine a younger version of Eliane.

“Precious.” Emily smiled, her face softening. “She used to sit for hours in the tree house Gregory built for her, just with a book.” She turned her head to fully look at Joanna, surveying her intently for a moment. “Would you like to see some pictures?”

 

 

When Eliane drew up in front of the mall and got out of the car, she abruptly felt transported fourteen years back in time. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Louise had asked her to meet her at the entrance to the food court; the same place they had fled to all these years ago after she had first brought Louise home to a very frosty welcome. Briefly, they had contemplated running away that afternoon and they had walked through the entire mall hand in hand, defiant and nervous and very much in love.

Looking around for Louise, Eliane’s gaze stumbled over a woman who was leaning against a hydrant with a hip. She stood with her back to Eliane, but that easy set to her shoulders and the way she had her hands loosely stashed into her pockets was something Eliane would have recognized anywhere. She swallowed against a sudden wave of anxiety.

The last time they had seen each other, she had been fleeing down the stairs, half stumbling over her own feet, until Louise’s steps had stopped following her and she had turned around, nearly being sick at the sight of Louise standing on the landing, trying to yell at her through her tears, her voice more desperate than anything else – “Don’t leave, Elly!” – but Eliane had turned toward the door again, walking as if against a storm front, with uncertain steps and blinded by her own tears.

Louise must have felt the intent gaze because she turned around before Eliane had said anything and Eliane felt that first meeting of their eyes like a punch to the stomach. There were lines in Louise’s face that hadn’t been there a decade ago, and she wore her blonde curls shorter, but they looked as unruly as ever. The relaxed pose was the same, and those were the same gentle eyes and that same easy grin. For a second, Eliane’s knees grew weak, just as they had many years ago on the stairs outside the dorms at Barnard, over a plastic cup of cheap wine.

“Elly… I don't believe it!” Louise’s laugh was still terribly familiar and Eliane was surprised to see no resentment in her eyes.

“Me neither,” she murmured. She stepped into Louise’s arms, answering the cordial hug and then wishing she hadn’t breathed in as she was assaulted by a flood of memories which she had believed to have paled into nothingness long ago. She wanted to hit Louise for making her feel this vulnerable, even here and now, but when they stepped back, she was echoing Louise’s broad smile, helpless to do anything else.

“God, when did you turn into such a posh European?” Louise asked gruffly, looking her up and down and trying to play down the tears in her eyes.

Eliane shrugged. “Occupational hazard?” she suggested wryly, avoinding the unwanted emotionality.

Louise laughed, and the moment’s tension evaporated. “Then I wonder why I didn’t grow webbing yet.” She held up her hands, and Eliane immediately remembered what they felt like, a little rough from the salt water and slightly callused. She involuntarily took another step back at the sharp memory of these hands on her body and opted for a bland topic. “How did the lecture go last night?”

“Fine,” Louise replied, clearly not interested in talking about the lecture. “Listen, why don’t we drive out to the fields for a walk? – I forgot how much this place chokes me.”

“Says the woman who walked through the mall with me hand in hand,” Eliane pointed out, but she already gestured at her car, motioning for Louise to get in.

“We had our moments here,” Louise conceded softly.

Eliane just nodded. “We did,” she stated soberly, wondering how Joanna was doing.

 

 

“So where did you grow up?” Emily asked, returning to the back room of the store after she had seen off a customer.

“Nowhere, really.” Joanna looked up from where she was tying tiny seedlings to thin supporting reeds. When Emily had told her she had to head over to the store, she had invited Joanna to come along and take a look. And since Joanna had felt awkward just standing around there, she had offered to help. “Until I was seven, in Amsterdam,” Joanna elaborated when she saw Emily’s puzzled frown. “But then I went to a boarding school that had houses all over the Netherlands, Switzerland and Germany. I never stayed more than two years in the same place, so there is not really a single place where I grew up.”

Emily was far more dismayed by something else. “You went to a boarding school that early?”

“I got used to it,” Joanna said in a bland tone, unwilling to remember those first frightful years.

“I’d never have let my kids go away so soon,” Emily stated with determination. “They grow up so quickly anyway…!” She shook her head. “How did your mother manage to let you go, at such a young age?”

“It was her idea,” Joanna said with detachment. She didn’t add that she had been crying and begging her mother to let her come home with her again when she deposited her at Protestant Elite State that first day. She remembered clinging to her mother’s cool hand, and how her mother had shaken loose from her. In the end, she had watched the car drive away through a tall window where she could barely look above the sill. “I don’t think she was ever that close to me in the first place.”

Emily looked at Joanna, noting how carefully she tended to the next seedling as she spoke. She remembered how Eliane had told her that Joanna’s parents had been at the congress, and that Joanna’s mother had treated them horribly. Emily had thought it to be an exaggeration and had actually sympathized with this other mother who also had to deal with a daughter who preferred to date women. But to willingly send one’s own child away? That was nothing she could relate to. “I’m sorry,” she offered finally, placing a soothing hand on Joanna’s bowed back without even thinking about it.

“It was a long time ago,” Joanna shrugged. It was absurd that this woman’s touch should feel more comforting than any gesture she could remember from her own mother in a long time.

“It’s not about time,” Emily protested readily. “I still wish Eliane would work a little closer to home, though God knows she’s old enough to make her own decisions.” She chuckled at her own protectiveness. “She was always more her father’s daughter that way, a true traveler… not someone to settle down somewhere and build a nest.” With two quick motions, she took care of the next seedling, setting to work again next to Joanna. “I’m just glad she comes home in the semester breaks. And she was home for a week late this spring, of course, even though she was a mess…” Too late she remembered just what had been the cause of Eliane’s state.

Joanna had grown very still. “I’m so sorry about all that.”

Emily said nothing for a moment, finding it hard to reconcile the likable young woman next to her with the image of the leather-wearing, manipulating stranger whom she had pictured back then. “I’m just glad you sorted things out,” she offered finally. “Lily was devastated.”

“So was I,” Joanna confessed, wondering if this was the point where Emily told her off about her behavior then. She found that she dreaded it more than she wanted to. “It was my fault, of course.”

“That this dean wants to close you down is hardly your fault, child,” Emily said. “And yes, you shouldn’t have lied to her, but we all do things we regret.” She placed the next secured seedling in line. “Lily could have asked you what was going on before jumping to conclusions as well,” she added graciously. “I guess she took it so hard because she was in love with you even then. I’m not sure she knew it yet, but once I caught her looking at these photos of you…” She trailed off, the morning’s image of Eliane and Joanna curled up in the small bed rising to the forefront again. “I would have preferred a man,” she admitted with a sigh. “But then, I’d also have preferred she stayed closer to home and studied something a little less exotic.” She glanced at Joanna for a moment before she continued with her work. “But it’s her life, and her choices… even if I don’t understand them. If they have to be that difficult, I hope they do at least make her happy.”

For a moment, Joanna didn’t know what to say, sensing that this was a huge acknowledgement on Emily’s part. “I think they do,” she said quietly.

“Good,” Emily nodded, not looking up from where she was tending to another seedling. The front door to the store opened and someone whistled. “Patrick is back,” Emily stated, glad to be able to return to more mundane issues. She stood up, dusting the earth off her hands. “How about we pick up some lunch for ourselves and get back to the yard?”

Joanna realized with some surprise that she was actually hungry. “That would be great.” For the last few minutes, she hadn’t even been thinking about Louise.

 

 

“Well, here’s to you finally being out, Elly.” Louise raised her water glass in salute.

Eliane looked at her across the table, wishing Louise would keep her voice down a little. But she didn’t think she had any right to protest, not after Louise had graciously accepted her profuse apology earlier, saying that she would have liked to hear it about a decade earlier, but that it still felt good to hear even now. Their walk had been strange, oddly intimate and awkward at the same time, and Eliane had been on edge throughout, looking at the fields they were passing and seeing Joanna everywhere, her breath on the wind and the blond of her hair in the bleached tops of the corn silks.

“You always said I was a little slow when it came to emotional matters,” Eliane reminded her, pushing her empty lunch plate away from her.

“Not ‘matters’. Commitment.” Louise shook her head. “Although I stand corrected, your emotional commitment to your work is beyond any doubt. It’s probably not unlike being married.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Eliane pointed out neutrally. She still hadn’t mentioned Joanna with a single word. Louise seemed to assume that she was single and Eliane saw no need to bring the issue up on her own, unsure how to tell her former lover that she was in love again.

“Don’t you miss it sometimes?” Louise canted her head to the side, her expression curious. “Having someone around? A light on in the apartment when you come home? Someone to argue with over what takeout to order?”

Eliane almost quipped that there was no need for that since she had been smart enough to find herself someone who could cook, but found herself oddly tongue-tied. “There is someone,” she finally admitted. “It’s all still very new. – A woman I’ working with.”

Something in Louise’s expression changed at that, something so subtle that Eliane couldn’t have named it. Louise blinked, clearly not having expected this. “Another Literature academic?”

Eliane shook her head. “Performance Studies and Comp Lit.”

“Another brainiac!” Louise exclaimed in mock horror, and Eliane thought that her good humor seemed a little forced. “So what’s her name?”

“Joanna,” Eliane said with reluctance.

“Joanna,” Louise repeated slowly. “And do you miss her?”

At that, Eliane couldn’t help but snort. “That depends,” she stated wryly. “Since at this moment she’s undoubtedly sitting on the porch finagling embarrassing childhood stories about me out of my mother.”

Her easy remark was met with silence. “You brought her to meet Emily?” Louise said with disbelief. “She’s here?…didn’t you say you just got involved?”

“She’s staying in Bloomington with me for a while. Mom knew about it and invited us,” Eliane said neutrally, wishing she hadn’t said anything about Joanna being in Terre Haute with her.

“Oh…” This gave Louise pause. “She did?” She clearly remembered her own, less that pleasant encounters with Emily Darhayne over the years that had always been about Eliane defiantly bringing her home, never about being invited.

“I was just as surprised,” Eliane hastened to say, knowing this had to hurt Louise who had taken the brunt of Emily’s homophobia more than once. “She must be getting soft with age.” She saw no need to add that Emily seemed to like Joanna, which Eliane of course only understood too well. But despite her easy remark, she didn’t manage to remove the sudden haunted look from Louise’s face.

Eliane studied these features she had once loved so much, and how they had changed so little over the years, except for the tiny lines that now crinkled around her eyes and the more pronounced shadows around her lips, and she had to admit that Joanna was right, Louise was gorgeous. She thought of what they had once had, and what they had lost and just for a moment, she felt a hurt so profound that she had to blink back the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

Louise interrupted her thoughts. “Should we ask for the check?”

 

 

Eliane’s car was parked in the driveway when Emily and Joanna arrived at the house and in walking closer, the bags with their lunch under one arm, Joanna saw them on the front porch, Eliane leaning against the banister while Louise sat on the swing.

Joanna recognized her easily from the picture, and, if anything, she was even more captivating in person, radiating an easy, confident energy. Louise looked at Emily as they approached and then her gaze slid past her to Joanna, who felt suddenly self-conscious about the dirt on her jeans and the washed-out college shirt she wore.

Louise stood when they approached and Joanna noted with surprise that she was a few inches taller than the woman. Her eyes flickered over to Eliane who had pushed loose from the banister and turned around. She looked somber and exhausted, but when their eyes met, the brief, tender glance they exchanged was like rain in the desert.

Eliane nodded between them. “This is Joanna van de Kreek…”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Richardson,” Joanna interrupted, holding out a hand.

“Likewise,” Louise replied smoothly, shaking the offered hand, and even though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it was captivating just the same. “Emily,” she acknowledged the woman behind Joanna. “How have you been?”

“Louise,” Emily replied with the same guarded tone. “How are you?”

Joanna stood aside, balancing the lunch bags while Louise and Emily exchanged a few words. Eliane looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else, steadfastly studying the banister next to her. It was with relief that Joanna felt Emily’s hand on her back. “If you’ll excuse us, Joanna and I still haven’t had lunch…”

Joanna glanced at Louise again as they walked past them into the house and couldn’t shake the feeling that Louise was checking her out in the same wary, curious way, with an edge of challenge underneath.

Louise looked on as the door closed behind the other two women. “Pretty,” she commented, not without bitterness. She sat back down on the swing. “Beautiful, even.”

“Yes,” Eliane agreed softly, still looking into the direction Joanna had gone, completely oblivious to Louise’s tone.

It was that small, intimate glance that gutted Louise. Eliane had never looked at her that way, not even back then. Louise reached for her cell phone. “I guess I better call Pam to pick me up. – She’s probably about as nervous as your Joanna was.” She hesitated for a moment longer and it was another pang when Eliane did not speak up, asking her to stay.

She stood and walked away a few steps to make her call, seeing from the corner of her eyes how Eliane sat down on the swing. When she joined her a minute later, stashing her phone away, she glanced at her watch. “She was already on her way. She’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”

Eliane just nodded and they sat next to each other on the swing with its creaking bolts, looking out onto the street that lay deserted in the afternoon heat. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and perhaps there was nothing left to say, really. The atmosphere was becoming more awkward by the moment, until Louise finally stood. “I’ll wait out on the street.”

Eliane was surprised. “You aren’t going to introduce me?”

Louise shrugged, her expression sheepish. “She hasn’t exactly heard the most glowing stories about you…”

Eliane pictured a tall, dark-haired woman, someone buff and protective who had pieced Louise back together after she had messed things up. “Okay,” she said with a slow nod. She didn’t begrudge Louise trying to keep her partner away from her, not after she had been so reluctant to talk about Joanna herself. Even though their break up lay a decade in the past, the moment was awkward, perhaps because they had been lovers from the day they met and still hadn’t learned to be anything else around each other.

“Well, I guess that’s it then.” Louise said. “It was good to see you again.”

“Yes,” Eliane agreed, also rising from the swing. “I’m glad you are doing so well.”

Louise felt another sting at the friendly statement, but she couldn’t even have said why. “And you…” she returned the pleasantry. “You have your own institute, and your girlfriend seems to be really something!”

Eliane caught herself before she could say ‘yes, she is’, thinking it inappropriate. “Yours, too, I assume,” she said instead, even though the formal courteousness was ringing wrong to her ears. It showed more than anything else how much they had become strangers, standing on the front porch and politely commenting on girlfriends they didn’t even know. “She’d better be treating you well!” Eliane added in mock menace, but it wasn’t really funny.

“She is,” Louise replied readily, but there was something in her tone, a trace of melancholy that perhaps she herself wasn’t even aware of. “I’ll see you sometime,” she said, stepping closer and enfolding Eliane in a final hug. “Goodbye, Elly.”

“Bye, Sailor,” Eliane murmured, leaning into the still terribly familiar hold and hugging Louise tightly in return. It lasted a bit longer than she was comfortable with. Eliane marveled at the fact that they both knew that would probably be the last time they met, but how neither of them admitted to it. Louise pulled back a little and turned her head to kiss Eliane’s cheek, a little closer to her mouth than necessary. When she eventually stepped away, she walked down the driveway without turning around again.

Eliane waited, half hidden behind the thick vines covering the porch pillars. There was the sound of a car drawing up, a door opening and steps on the street. The woman who walked up and kissed Louise hello wasn’t what she had expected at all. She couldn’t really see her face across the distance, but she was small and athletic, with short auburn hair. When they separated, Eliane could hear Louise laugh. She watched them walk out of sight with their hands still linked.

Eliane waited until the car had driven off before she stepped back into the house. Emily and Joanna were sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of grilled chicken, some ribs and a load of fries in between them. Emily was just then nodding at something Joanna had said and Eliane simply leaned in the kitchen door for a moment, enjoying how relaxed Joanna seemed, smiling at her mother over another comment.

She took a deep breath, feeling her calm resettling and she ambled over, wordlessly putting a hand on Joanna’s shoulder as she turned to look up at her, a slightly questioning smile on her lips. In reply, Eliane brushed her thumb across the shoulder under her fingers, painfully aware of the incomparability of this cherished touch. She stepped up behind Joanna, never letting go of her shoulder. With her free hand, she reached over her, stealing a piece of chicken from the plate. She grinned at her mother. “Mom, you didn’t take her to a barbecue joint!”

“You better learn cooking first before you criticize my choice of restaurants, young lady,” Emily said in a warning tone.

“I don’t need to,” Eliane informed her cheerfully, her grin broadening. “I found myself someone who can cook.”

Emily shook her head at her before she looked at Joanna across the table. “Does she at least do the dishes?”

Joanna leaned back in her chair, and against Eliane standing behind her. “Sometimes. Whe