The Right Thing

Hennessey Boudreaux is getting ready to leave her beloved South Carolina to travel to Boston to begin college. She's savoring the summer months while working at a local writing program for gifted teenagers. One of the teenagers, Townsend Bartley, is less gifted as a writer than she is as a hell raiser. But money and power talk, and Townsend's mother, a well-known and respected writer, has plenty of both. The headstrong, self-destructive 16-year-old is about to lock horns with her equally stubborn 17-year-old camp counselor. The story that ensues follows these two determined young women as they both try to sail through the murky depths that is young adulthood. It has the expected SX formula (aka: "just friends" for ages when you just want them to stfu and kiss)

Part 1

"I don’t recall asking if you wanted to attend the camp, Townsend. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that your opinion carries weight in matters such as these." The refined Boston Brahmin accent that slipped from the lips of the elegant, impeccably outfitted woman was even more clipped than usual, the only evident sign of her growing pique.

The woman cast a quick glance at her daughter, who was curled up tightly against the opposite door in the rear of the limousine, staring out of the window as though she were transfixed. "I don’t appreciate being ignored, Townsend. Now, I asked for your word, and I’d like to hear a response from you."

Turning her head slowly, her blonde hair skimming across her shoulders, the insolent young woman glared at her mother for a full minute. As usual, the older woman did not blink or avert her gaze – her spirit at least as indomitable as her daughter’s. Her mouth curled into a sneer, and Townsend said, "You don’t trust me any farther than you can throw me. Why is it so important to have my word?"

Raising an elegant brow, Miranda Jameson Bartley inclined her head and gave her daughter a wan smile. "I suppose you have a point. Your word obviously means nothing to you, nor does our family name. I wish I had a glimmer of a clue as to what makes you tick, Townsend, but I suppose that’s merely a fantasy."

The younger woman turned her head again, choosing not to engage her mother in one of their endless, fruitless discussions. "Where are you going after you deposit me?" she asked the window.

"After I escort you to the camp," the woman corrected, "I’m going to Charleston for a book signing. Then I’m off to Europe. My publicist has me scheduled for nearly forty cities in just over two months time. I’ll need at least a month to rest after that nightmare."

"Sucks to be you," Townsend said, sounding as bored as possible.

"I think we can both use a vacation – from each other," Miranda sniffed.

"Yeah. The three months you were at home this year have been a little much. Of course, I was away at school the whole time you were home – so what’s it been two, three weeks that we’ve been together this year?"

"I’d be happy to have you attend school in Boston, Townsend. However, there isn’t a private school in the entire state that will accept you. If it weren’t for my reputation, you wouldn’t even be allowed to attend this camp. I’m just happy that they haven’t heard of you down here in South Carolina."

"Oh, don’t worry, mommy dearest, your name will be thoroughly tarnished by the time they expel me. By the way, where should I go when they throw me out on my dyke ass?"

"Must you use that disgusting term? Your psychiatrist has told you time and again that you’re too young to have your sexuality determined yet. You might well find that you’re as heterosexual as I."

"I’d kill myself," Townsend muttered, just loud enough for her mother to hear.

"Darling, I know that your predominant goal in life is to mortally wound me, but it’s just not going to work. I’d prefer that you were at least civil to me, but that’s obviously not to be. I personally think that you should spend your energies doing something more productive." She turned to her daughter and closed her eyes briefly, wondering how things between them had gone so horribly wrong.

"You didn’t answer me," the girl said, still refusing to look at her mother. "Where should they ship my cage when they throw me out? Boston, or the Vineyard?"

The older woman sighed heavily. "Your father can’t watch you while he’s working, and I won’t have you running wild on the Vineyard. I still have some people on the island who don’t laugh at me behind my back."

"Don’t be so sure of that," Townsend muttered, snickering at her joke.

"If you manage to make your stay shorter than planned, I suppose I’ll have to hire someone to watch you. I’ll put a call in to the Federal Marshals and see if anyone is up to the task."

The girl laughed softly, nodding her head. "That was actually funny. I must be rubbing off on you."

"I wish that we could each have some influence on the other," Miranda said wistfully.

The sullen young woman curled up even tighter against the door. "That makes one of us."

"Hennessey? You ‘bout ready, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy. I’m set." The tall, thin, brunette hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and started down the stairway from the second floor. Walking into the kitchen, she wrapped her arms around a once equally tall, now slightly shorter, woman. The woman was of an indeterminate age, but her hair was still mostly black, and her skin was unlined and smooth. She wore an ancient pink nightgown that covered her all the way to her knees, and Hennessey reflected that it was the only one she’d ever seen her wear. "Bye, Gramma. I’ll try to find a way to come visit at least once."

"Now, don’t you worry about that, child. Your granddaddy and me just want you to enjoy yourself. Don’t give us a tiny little thought."

"I’ll think of you every day, and you know it." Hennessey kissed her grandmother fondly. "Tell Granddaddy I love him."

"I will, String Bean. You take care and make your grandma proud."

The young woman flushed modestly and nodded. "Bye-bye, Gramma. See you in August."

"You ready, Hennessey? We’re gonna be late."

"Coming, Daddy." The young woman dashed out the front door, her bag thumping against her hip.

Father and daughter climbed into the battered, aged pick-up truck, both holding their collective breaths, hoping that the temperamental engine would deign to cooperate. With a belching grumble, the truck fluttered to life, and Dawayne Boudreaux settled back and took in a breath. His daughter held her own breath as long as possible, always having to spend a few moments to acclimate to the malodorous truck. She had intentionally placed her bag in the bed of the truck, hoping in vain that the wide variety of offensive smells wouldn’t infuse both her and her bag.

Dawayne twitched his head in the direction of the bed. "That all you’re takin?"

"Yeah. We all wear uniforms, so I don’t need much."

"Well, I guess you know the drill by now. This your fourth year?"

"Uh-huh. First one I’ve been a house leader for, though."

"How much you fixin' t’get?"

"Not much," she shrugged. "You know how it is, Daddy. They never pay kids much." In reality she was making a thousand dollars a week, but she was loath to reveal that bit of news to her father. Dawayne was a very proud man, and learning that his seventeen-year-old child was going to earn substantially more than he would over the summer was not the type of thing she wished to share.

They drove on in silence – or in as much silence as a truck with two hundred ten thousand miles and a holey muffler could provide.

"We’re here, Townsend. Townsend. Townsend."

"What?"

"We’re at the camp. I don’t have much time, but I want to meet the headmaster before I leave."

"Go on." The girl moved not a muscle, staring blankly out the window.

"Fine." Miranda picked up her purse and opened the door. "I’m going to meet the headmaster, then I’m reclaiming this limo. If you’re still here when I get back, you’re going to Europe with me." She exited and closed the door crisply, striding down the drive with her usual confident grace.

"Fucking bitch." The girl looked into the rear view mirror and caught the gaze of the driver who was giving her a patently disapproving look. "Eat me," she growled, throwing the door open and stalking away from the limo, knowing that someone would take care of her bags.

"Thanks for the ride, Daddy," Hennessey said as they pulled into the drive. "I’ll see you in August, if not before."

"Take care of yourself, girl," he said, offering a rare show of affection – a rough squeeze of her shoulder.

"I will, Daddy. Good luck this summer. Full nets, cold beer and hot gumbo, right?"

"That’s it, baby." He gave her a shy, boyish smile, and she gazed at him for as long as was polite, trying to memorize his expression to keep it close to her heart.

The moment Hennessey reached her bungalow, she stripped off her clothes, then put every stitch of her clothing in the washer, along with everything from her suitcase, and then added the nylon duffel. She stood in the shower, scrubbing herself roughly, trying to get the smell of fish off her body and hair. By the time she’d finished, and had slipped into her uniform, the living area was filled with five mildly anxious-looking faces. "Hi there," she said, smiling broadly. "I’m Hennessey Boudreaux, the house leader of Sandpiper House." Looking at the young women she said, "Looks like we’re one short, so I’ll save my speech for when we’re all here. We’re going to have a camp-wide meeting at 5:00 in the recreation bungalow, so let’s meet everyone, then you can all wander around a bit until then." Turning to the girl on her far left, she said, "Why don’t you each tell us your name, where you’re from, and how old you are."

A shy looking brunette with big, brown eyes began the introductions. "I’m Missy Blaine. I’m from Winston-Salem, North Carolina and I’m fifteen – almost."

The girl next to her said, "I’m Tamara Goodley. I’m from New York, and I’m almost sixteen." Tamara appeared to be surprisingly self-assured for someone not yet sixteen, but Hennessey knew that first impressions were sometimes misleading.

Next up, the redheaded young woman beside Tamara spoke. "I’m Devlin Cook. I’m from Chicago, and I’m fifteen." Hennessey wasn’t sure what led her to this supposition, but she had a feeling that Devlin was going to need close supervision. She knew that the administration put at least one problem child into each bungalow, and something about the look on the girl’s face indicated she might be the one.

A girl so shy she looked to be on the verge of passing out hesitated before stammering, "I … I’m … Hailey B … B … Brooks. I’m f … f … from Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and I’m fifteen." Finished, she let out a massive sigh, getting a warm smile from Hennessey.

The last girl cleared her throat and said, "I’m Ali Monroe, from Palm Beach, Florida. I’m also fifteen."

"Great, great. It’s nice to meet you all. I think we’ll have a great time this summer, and all learn a lot."

"You didn’t say where you’re from, or how old you are," Devlin reminded her with a touch of a challenge in her voice.

"Oh. Well, I’m from near here. Beaufort, South Carolina, to be exact, and I’ll be eighteen in October. I just graduated from high school."

"That’s not very old to be in charge of us. I’ve got brothers older than you, and they’re worthless." Devlin was giving her another pointed look, and Hennessey mentally rolled her eyes.

"This is my fourth year here at the Academy, and I think I’ve proven myself to the administration. They know me – and trust me. Over time, I think you will, too." She looked around the room, cocked her head and asked, "Any other questions? No? Then feel free to explore. But I want you all to be in the rec bungalow by 5:00. Do you all wear watches?"

Five heads nodded and she excused them, going over to her things to check her roster. Frowning, she called the administration bungalow and queried the secretary who answered. "Hi, Dorothy, it’s Hennessey. I’m missing a camper – Townsend Bartley. Have you heard from her?"

"Well, her mother was here just a few minutes before you arrived, Hennessey. I’m sure she’s in the compound."

"Great. She must be lost. I’ll take a look around and see if I can scare her up. I’ll try to be on time, but if I’m not, will you explain to MaryAnn why I’m late?"

"She’ll know you have a good reason, Hennessey," the secretary said. "She knows that she doesn’t have to worry about you."

"Thanks, Dorothy. I appreciate that."

"See you later, Hennessey; and don’t worry, the Bartley girl will show up. She might just be a little homesick."

It took her over a half hour, but Hennessey finally found her charge – a cute, young blonde woman of average height, sitting on the edge of a fishing dock at the far end of the compound. She was leaning back on her braced arm, smoking a cigarette, and listening to what Hennessey assumed was an MP3 player.

Striding to the end of the dock, Hennessey stood next to the young woman, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you Townsend Bartley?" she asked, her ire showing.

The blonde head did not move, so the house leader leaned over and tugged the headphones from her ears. "Are you Townsend?"

"Uh-huh. Who wants to know?"

"I’m Hennessey Boudreaux – the head of the house you’ll be staying in. Didn’t you get the message that you were supposed to report to the house?"

The younger woman shrugged, then turned slightly and took in the woman who was addressing her.

She was tall and thin, but with hints of wiry strength in her lanky frame. Her skin was surprisingly dark – the young woman having obviously spent too much time in a tanning booth. But after a moment, Townsend decided that the copper color suited her, setting off her bright blue eyes and white, even teeth. Her long, black hair shone in the sunlight, the hair so dark that even the highlights were blue. Her face was probably quite lovely when it wasn’t scrunched into a perturbed frown, much as it was now, and Townsend spent a moment regretting that she’d likely never get to see the woman smile.

She wore a sky blue, short-sleeved shirt with an insignia of some sort over her breast, and a pair of chalk-colored shorts, neatly cinched with a light blue web belt. Both articles of clothing were a little large for her, and Townsend guessed that she had to wear a larger size than her width required, just to cover her length. She should have those clothes tailored. I bet she’s got a smokin’ body hidden under there.

Once her examination was complete Townsend sighed, deciding to let the games begin. "I didn’t read any of that crap. I figured someone would tell me if any of it mattered."

Hennessey sat down next to the camper, facing the ocean, a contemplative look on her face. "It’s all important. A lot of people spent a lot of time preparing those materials. You’d be well served to read it – all of it."

"I think I’ll wait until the Cliff Notes come out." She flicked her spent cigarette into the ocean and leaned back on both hands. "Anything else?"

"Yep. We’re having a camp-wide meeting at five o’clock in the recreation bungalow. You should be there."

The young woman shook her head, then took out her cigarettes, lighting one with practiced ease. After taking a long drag, she blew the smoke out in a series of perfect rings. "Look, Hennessey is it?" At the woman’s nod, she continued, "I don’t do group things. I’m not a joiner. Now, just let me go about my business, and we won’t have any problems."

"That’s just not going to happen, Townsend." Hennessey looked as though she were filled with regret. "You’re my responsibility, and I take my responsibilities very seriously."

"Ya know, that charming sentiment would have more kick to it if I had the slightest interest in staying here. You’ve got no power over me, chief. I’d like nothing better than to be on the first plane out."

The tall woman’s rather pronounced accent, and her slow, soft, alto voice made it seem as if she were in slow motion. Townsend was used to the nearly frantic speech patterns of her native Boston, and she felt a moment of sympathy for the slow Southerner that she was facing off against. This would be more fun if we were more evenly matched. How am I supposed to have a battle of wits with an unarmed woman?

As Townsend was contemplating her own superiority, Hennessey reached over and plucked the pack of cigarettes from the girl’s breast pocket, crumpling them in her fist. "Well, you’re mine until you’re on that plane, and as far as I know, the next plane isn’t until tomorrow. Let’s go." She grasped the collar of the camper's shirt and tugged firmly, Townsend rising with her in self-preservation.

"You can’t toss me around like a rag doll! And you can’t take my cigarettes! I have rights!" She was struggling fiercely, but not making much headway against the taller woman who still had hold of her shirt.

"No smoking in the compound. Period." She started to walk, pulling Townsend right along with her. "And, just for the record, you have no rights. Your parents have charged us with your guardianship for the summer. You can think of me as your temporary mom."

"Fuck you, Mom! Let go of me!"

"Will you come with me to the meeting?"

"Fuck!" She tried one more time to wriggle out of the hold, but was entirely unsuccessful. "Yes, damn it!"

Hennessey let go, and to her surprise the younger woman didn’t take off, or slug her. She walked right alongside, looking up at the house leader with a mixture of loathing and curiosity. "Do you get paid for each one of us you manage to hold on to?"

"Nope." Hennessey chuckled lazily. "I’d get the same if I had six or one. My life would be much easier with one, by the way."

"Then why do you care? What’s it to you if I smoke, or skip a stupid meeting? I’ll just do something that gets me thrown out of here tomorrow. The more rules I know, the more I’ll break. Believe me, it’s better to keep me in the dark."

"Then we’ll just have to deal with that tomorrow, won’t we?" They had arrived at the large recreation bungalow, and Hennessey held the door open for the younger woman. "Here we are," she said. "Enjoy!"

As soon as the group meeting was finished, Hennessey sought out the headmaster of the Academy, MaryAnn Teasdale. "MaryAnn!"

"I had a feeling I’d be getting a visit from you, Hennessey. Walk me home."

They left the building together and walked the short distance to a small, but well appointed bungalow. Entering, MaryAnn asked, "Something to drink? I have some iced tea."

"Sure. That’d be nice." Hennessey sat in one of the padded wicker chairs and waited for the older woman to return with two glasses.

As MaryAnn sat down, she said, "I’m no psychic, but I have a feeling you’re here to talk about Townsend Bartley."

"I see her reputation precedes her," Hennessey said dryly, taking a sip of the cold, sweet drink. "She wants to go home, and given how she acted today, I have a feeling she’s gonna get her wish."

MaryAnn looked at her for a moment, then said, "I hope you don’t mind that I put her in your cabin, Hennessey. I know I expect a lot from you, but Townsend is one little reclamation project that I’d really like for you to take on – if you’re willing, that is."

"Have I angered you in some way?" the young woman asked, her mouth quirking up in a grin.

"Of course not. Townsend is – well, she’s a very troubled young woman, Hennessey, and I’d love to be able to help her get her life on track. Her mother made it clear that she won’t blame us if we have to send her back to Boston, but she said she’d have to hire a stranger to watch her if we do – she’s going to be in Europe all summer on a book tour. Mrs. Bartley was popular before, but now that they’ve made that movie from one of her best-sellers her popularity has gone off the charts."

"Her mother is Miranda Bartley?" the young woman gasped. "I … I had no idea!"

"She sure is. And if we can keep the little devil here all summer, Miranda promised to offer a series of lectures next year – as a thank you."

"Wow! I’m not a fan of her work, but it sure is popular. That would really draw some attention."

"Yes, it would; but you know that’s not how I do business, Hennessey. I’m more concerned about the girl than I am about her mother’s promise. I honestly think she could learn something from being here all summer, and having you as a role model could give her something to aspire to."

"I think you’re giving both of us too much credit, MaryAnn. She seems bound and determined to get out of here, and I don’t think I can change her mind."

"Will you try, Hennessey? You can bend the rules anyway you need to – figure out what she likes and reward her when she does something well. Do whatever you have to do, but don’t let the little hellion win again. I’m afraid that winning this time might destroy her."

"Why are you so worried about her, MaryAnn? She’s just another spoiled kid that will be spoiled once again as soon as she leaves here."

"She almost died a few months ago, Hennessey," MaryAnn said quietly. "She drank so much that she went into a coma. She claims it was an accident, but after talking to the headmaster at her boarding school, I’m not so sure. I think she’s lonely and frightened – not just a bad kid." MaryAnn reached out and patted the younger woman’s leg. "I know you’ve put in a lot of hours at Al-Anon meetings, Hennessey, and I thought that out of everyone – you might have some ideas about how to handle her."

Giving her a wry smirk, Hennessey said, "I’ve spent a lot of years trying to stop being co-dependent with the alcoholics in my life. Now you want me to take on a new one?"

"Not if it will be too hard for you, honey," MaryAnn said softly, looking deeply into the young woman’s eyes.

"Nah. I can hold my boundaries with her. It won’t be fun, but I’m sure being paid enough to put up with some aggravation. I’ll give her my best."

"You always do, Hennessey. That’s one thing I’ll always rely upon."

When Hennessey returned to the bungalow, she poked her head into the room being shared by Townsend and Hailey. Hailey was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching the older girl unpack. The blonde removed two cartons of cigarettes, a fifth of vodka and another of gin, setting her contraband on the bedside table. "One word out of you, and I’ll cut your tongue out," she growled, not even bothering to turn to see if the younger woman was watching her.

Hennessey was standing in the doorway observing this little interaction, and Hailey’s eyes grew wide as the house leader swooped into the room and gathered up all of Townsend’s treasure trove in her long arms. "Thanks for making this so easy," she said brightly. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she shook the pillow out, and used the case to hold the illicit booty, all the while feeling a pair of green eyes staring holes through her. "Now, what else do we have here?" She whisked Townsend’s bag from her, and removed her MP3 player as well as her CD player. Next came all of her CD’s, and her handheld organizer. "Nice one," she said. The last item was a very tiny, handheld computer, which Townsend was loath to let go. She attempted to snatch it back from Hennessey’s hands – to no avail.

"You can’t take my fucking computer! How can I communicate with anyone?"

"We’re people too, aren’t we, Hailey?" Hennessey smiled at the girl who was frozen in place. "Townsend can talk to us, right?"

Her head moved up and down, but it was clear that she feared for her life.

"You can have some of these things back – when I’ve decided that you deserve them. Of course, you’ll never get the liquor back. Let me thank you, in advance, for the headmaster. She likes to have a nice gin and tonic once in a while." Hefting the pillowcase over her shoulder, Hennessey started to leave the room, a sputtering Townsend glaring at her. "Be back in a few, guys. I have to go see the headmaster. Time to replenish the bar."

Later that night, Hennessey poked her head into each of the double rooms, checking on each pair of girls. When she reached Hailey and Townsend’s room she looked at the sullen young blonde, sitting on her bed fully dressed. Hennessey walked over to her and held out the CD player. "I appreciate that you made it to dinner on time, and came back to the bungalow by ten. I think that merits at least one CD." She held out the pile of disks, but Townsend just turned up her nose.

"Don’t do me any favors."

"’Kay." Hennessey turned and left the room without another word, the younger woman once again glaring impotently after her.

"Rise and shine, guys. First class is at 9:00. You’d better get going if you want breakfast."

"Go fuck yourself," Townsend grumbled, pulling the covers over her head.

"Nice to see you, too, sunshine." Hennessey closed the door, chuckling to herself. You’re having too much fun here, girl.

As the door closed, Hailey came out of the bathroom. "Your turn, Townsend." The very grumpy woman stumbled to her feet, more in need of the facilities than breakfast. Trying to break the ice with her cranky roommate, Hailey found the courage to ask, "Hey, what are you here for? Music, writing, art?"

"I have no idea," she grumbled.

"Huh? This is an arts camp. How can you not know what you’re here for?"

"I’m here to avoid prison. Now get dressed and get out!"

Only by going to the classroom building and checking the class lists was Townsend able to be on time for her writing class. She flopped down in a chair, gazing at the other students listlessly. At 9:00 on the button, Hennessey strode in and perched on the edge of the desk at the front of the room. "Hi, I’m Hennessey Boudreaux. Welcome to "Finding Your Voice."

"I’ve found my goddamned voice!" Townsend stood, fuming. "Why in the hell is some kid trying to teach me how to write? Do you have any idea who my mother is?"

Hennessey crooked a finger at the irate woman, beckoning her to follow her to the hallway.

The camper was still sputtering. "Those kids couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen! I’m going to be seventeen in a week!"

"Townsend, you’re in this class because of your writing sample. We looked carefully at each of the samples submitted, and tried to group students so they’d be with others with similar skills – not just by age. Most of the girls here are very talented at their craft, but we also have introductory courses for girls who want to explore art, or music or writing for the first time. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but your sample didn’t show much skill or much promise. You write more like the girls just entering high school than a senior."

"I didn’t know that I was supposed to do a good job!"

"Townsend," Hennessey said, quirking a slow smile, "you should always do a good job. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?"

The blonde stormed back into the classroom, determined to be on a plane by the end of the day.

"Okay, I think that’s enough for this morning. We’ll probably keep to this schedule unless we see it doesn’t work for us. We’ll meet on Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 9:00 until noon, then you’ll have the afternoons to work on your assignments. We’ll meet individually on Tuesday and Thursday so I can give you each some special attention. Those meetings will last about an hour or so. So, you’ll have plenty of time to write and reflect. We give you lots of time during the day to work, since we want this to be fun for you. Evenings should be for socializing – not working. We won’t have anything specific to discuss tomorrow, so feel free to ask for time if there’s anything you’d like to talk about. Other than that – I’ll see you all on Wednesday morning. Are we clear on the assignment?"

A young woman named Marissa raised her hand. "We can write about anything at all?"

"Yes, anything that has moved you emotionally, Marissa. I want each of you to think hard about something that happened to you in the last year that really moved you or touched you in some way. It could be the death of a pet, the night you went to a concert by your favorite group, staying up all night to see the sun rise – anything at all, as long as you write from your heart." She looked around again, saying, "Okay. See you on Wednesday."

The six young women shuffled out, Townsend trailing the group. "See you later, sunshine."

"Kiss my ass."

I think she’s starting to like me.

Later that night, returning to her bungalow after watching a movie with a few of her charges, Hennessey saw the orange glow of a cigarette not far from the edge of the building. Shaking her head, she went inside and rooted through Townsend’s room, finally pulling her mattress from the box spring to find a nice, fresh carton of cigarettes, one pack notably absent. Returning the mattress and bedding to their proper order, she lay down upon the bed, resting comfortably until Townsend came back into the room. "Hi, there."

The young woman started briefly, caught unawares by the house leader. "What do you want?"

"I want to know who you coerced into buying you cigarettes. It was obviously an employee, since no one else has a car to get into town, and I’m sure you didn’t walk."

Townsend strode over to the bedside table, her confidence firmly back in place. Hennessey caught the smell of smoke on her clothing as she walked by and deposited the pack onto the table. "It’s not hard to talk one of these underpaid slobs into doing you a favor. All it takes is a few bucks."

"Then I guess I have to take the bucks away." Sitting up, the house leader opened the top drawer of the bedside table and removed the wallet she found there. Removing every bill and every charge card, she counted the money, then sat down at Townsend’s desk and made out a detailed receipt. "Here you go. Don’t count on getting this back until August."

As she left the room, money, credit cards and cigarettes firmly in hand, something loud and heavy crashed into the door as she closed it behind her. Someone seems a little grumpy. Must be the nicotine.

The next day things were remarkably calm – so calm that Hennessey was a little nervous. Townsend worked on her paper, showed up for every meal, and, after using the computer in the rec bungalow for a couple of hours, she got up and stretched at nine o’clock, announcing that she was going to bed – a full hour before she was required to be in. Something’s fishy, Hennessey said to herself as she watched the blonde leave the rec bungalow. She stealthily followed her back to the cabin, waiting outside until the girl had entered. Giving her a few minutes to let her get settled, she went in, then stood by Townsend’s bedroom door for a few minutes, sniffing for smoke. When nothing appeared awry, she decided that the young woman must have just been tired, and headed off to bed herself.

The next morning, Hennessey dutifully knocked on each bedroom door, then went to pack up her things for class. She walked over to the dining room, had a leisurely breakfast, then went to her room early. As the sweep second hand passed the twelve, Townsend came barreling in, obviously having risen moments earlier. Her hair was askew, her shirt was buttoned incorrectly, and her eyes were so red she looked as though she’d had a severe allergic reaction. "Are you all right?" Hennessey asked, slightly concerned.

"Fine," she grumbled, dropping inelegantly into a chair.

"Okay!" Hennessey clapped her hands loudly, noting that Townsend flinched as though she’d been hit by lightning. "I thought we’d spend some time having each of you read your stories. I know this can be a little intimidating, but it’s the best way to gain confidence in your writing. If you’re nervous, just remember that we’re here to help you find your voice. You’ll never be criticized in this class. Now, who wants to start?" She looked at the six blank faces, pointed to a girl who was trying to sink into her desk and said, "Yes, Alison. Thanks for volunteering."

With her eyes nearly popping from her head, the fourteen-year-old stood and began to read, her voice thin and quaking. She managed to get through it, but she was clearly on the verge of hyperventilating during the entire ordeal.

"Excellent!" Hennessey’s voice boomed out. "Just great, Alison! Now, does anyone have any feedback to offer?"

One young woman raised her hand and said, "I love Dave Matthews, too. His last CD was the bomb!"

"Well, that’s something we can all agree on," Hennessey said, smiling encouragingly. "But what about the writing? Anyone?" She looked around again, six pairs of eyes staring at the floor. "All right. There’s no requirement that we give feedback – but it can be very helpful to hear from your peers. You’ll get plenty of comments from me, but you’ll learn a lot from each other if you’ll take the risk. Well, let’s move on. Townsend?"

The blonde looked at her for a moment, then said, "I’d rather just hand mine in."

"I can understand that. It’s a little nerve wracking to read your thoughts aloud. But it’s one of the ways we learn."

The girl gave her a lethal glare, then said, "No, it’s not that. You don’t want me to read this."

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "We’re here to learn from each other."

"You coulda told us we had to read ‘em aloud, you know."

"I didn’t want you to be nervous. Now, let’s give it a try, Townsend. It won’t be that bad."

"Your funeral," the girl said, getting to her feet. She cleared her throat, looked around at the assembled young women, then rolled her eyes and began to read,

The Day The Earth Moved, by Townsend Jameson Bartley.

I didn’t know her name. All I knew was that she was hot – sizzling hot.

Five pairs of eyes shot open and each of the younger girls sat up a little straighter in their seats.

She picked me out as soon as she walked into the bar. She bought me a drink, but that was just to waste time. She lived close by and we went to her apartment. My clothes were off by the time we reached her bedroom, and I was on my back – my favorite position, she said, snickering softly.

I don’t know how old she was – she probably should have been in college, but she didn’t look like college material. She smelled a little like gasoline, and there was grease embedded in the skin around her fingernails. Her hands were callused and rough, and she was rough with me, too. No flowers, no candy, no conversation. She had me on my back with my legs open wide within minutes.

The room was so silent that a pin dropping would have sounded like a bomb. Everyone but Hennessey was shocked to the core, but the older woman just sat on the edge of her desk – as usual – paying rapt, studied attention: her face composed, her expression alert.

She spent a little time getting me ready – but not as much as I would have liked. She played with my tits, then worked on my clit for a minute. Not very exciting stuff. I was about ready to get up and bolt, figuring I could go back to the bar and find someone better if I hurried, but she brought this massive bottle of lube out and started to coat her fingers with it. That was interesting enough to make me give her another chance, so I waited until she slipped a finger into me. I swear I don’t know what she did, but this woman knew how to finger-fuck."

One of the young women let out a startled gasp, and Townsend gave Hennessey an "I told you so" look, but the older woman just looked at her rather blankly, then gave her a half smile, encouraging her to continue.

With her finger working in and out of me, I started to get into it, and she popped another one in. That felt even better, and I didn’t even think of stopping her when she forced the third one in. It was a little tight, but I loosened up eventually, and when she put her little finger in – it sure didn’t feel little. She laughed wryly, looking around to find her classmates staring at her as if she were speaking in tongues. But, much to Townsend’s disappointment, Hennessey hadn’t moved or changed her expression.

She squirted a gob of lube onto her hand, and I felt my mouth go dry – having a pretty good idea of what she was gonna do.

"What was she gonna do?" a timid, yet fascinated voice called out.

"I’m getting to that," Townsend sniffed. "All will be revealed." She cleared her throat and continued.

I was sure I couldn’t take it, but I got the impression that I didn’t have an option, so I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. Suddenly, the woman spoke. ‘Don’t tighten up, bitch! Take a deep breath and try to push me out – that’ll open you up.’

I did what she said, trying to squeeze her out of me. Amazingly, I opened up like an oyster shell and she tucked her thumb against her palm and slid in. I screamed, but I think it was shock as much as pain. Actually, it didn’t hurt much at all, much to my surprise. The most I’d ever had in me was three fingers – so this was a pretty big accomplishment.

I was just lying there, feeling like I was part of her arm, when she started to pump into me. Damn! It felt great to have that big, rough hand inside me, but when she started to move it I thought I’d die! It felt like she was fucking my whole body – not just my pussy. I started shaking all over, and before I knew it I came like I’d never come before.

It hurt like hell when she tried to pull out, but after she waited for me to stop spasming, she got out without tearing anything. I’ve never had a baby, but giving birth to that fist was enough for me to cross that idea off my list entirely.

I’ve never been fucked that hard before or since – but that night, that grimy fingered, gasoline scented-woman really rocked my world.

She smiled sickly at Hennessey, then said, "The end," and sat down in her chair.

"Wow, powerful stuff, Townsend. Thanks for sharing it with us. I know how hard it can be to share personal things like that – I’m very pleased that you took the risk." Looking around at the stunned faces she asked, "Any comments? I’m sure Townsend would appreciate them. No one? Okay. I guess we’ll move on. Tiffany?"

Townsend sank lower into her chair, attempting to stare a hole through her unflappable teacher/house leader.

She waited until the end of the day, having mulled the situation over in her head for hours. "Hi, MaryAnn," she said rather sheepishly when she knocked on the headmaster's door after dinner. "I’ve got a problem I don’t think I can handle."

"Well, that’s why I’m here, Hennessey. Come on in and let’s talk about it."

The younger woman walked into the house and sat down, her posture reflecting her discomfort. "I feel like I’ve let you down, MaryAnn," she said softly. "I just don’t think I can handle Townsend."

"What’s wrong, Hennessey?"

Instead of relating the incident, Hennessey just handed her the paper that her student had written. The older woman read it, an eyebrow rising occasionally, but no other expression on her face. When she finished, she handed it back and let out a sigh. "What was the assignment? Tell us your most disgusting experience?"

"No, they were supposed to write about a recent event that moved them emotionally."

"Well, other than being poorly written – there’s no emotion at all in this piece; this seems like little more than a cry for help."

"I think so, too." Hennessey’s brow was furrowed and she shook her head. "I think she’s too troubled to even be on campus, MaryAnn. I’m afraid that she’ll continue to do things like this and ruin camp for the other girls. That just doesn’t seem fair."

MaryAnn got up and walked over to her wet bar. "You don’t mind if I have a drink, do you, honey?"

"No, not at all. It’s only when people have to drink the whole bottle that I have any objections." She said this with a smile on her face, but there was a sadness in her eyes that was impossible to miss.

MaryAnn poured her drink, a stiff gin and tonic, then sat back down. She took a long sip, then smacked her lips and looked at the glass curiously. "I did put gin into this, didn’t I?"

"Yeah. A pretty hefty dose." The young woman shrugged her shoulders and said, "Old habit. I always watch to see how quickly the bottle will be gone."

MaryAnn went to the bar and opened the bottle, sniffing at the contents. "Well, Hennessey, either Townsend brought a fifth of water to camp, or someone managed to remove the gin and switch it out with water. Do you have any thoughts as to whom the culprit might be?"

Hennessey dropped her head into her hands. "Great! She’s not only out to drive me crazy, she’s a cat burglar."

"I had my door locked," MaryAnn nodded. "Granted, these aren’t the best locks in the world, but you’d need some experience to get in without leaving a trace."

"What do we do, MaryAnn? We can’t have her robbing people."

"Look, Hennessey, I don’t want to put you into a position that you don’t feel able to handle, but I can’t think of a person in this camp better equipped to try to get this kid to see what this kind of alcohol abuse can do to her. I’m not ready to give up, yet, and I hope you’ll take another stab at her."

"That’s exactly what I’d like to do," the young woman grumbled. "With an ax."

"I can see how frustrated you are, really, I can. But part of my mission here is to reach kids that most need the help."

Hennessey nodded. "You did that for me."

"I hope we did, Hennessey. Now, I’m not asking for a quid pro quo here; I’m just asking you to give it another try."

"But what about class? I can’t have her exposing the younger girls to this kind of smut."

"Then make your topics more specific. Give them a topic where they don’t have as much latitude for going off the deep end. Don’t let this little scamp get her way again, Hennessey. You’re smarter than she is, you’re more resourceful, and you’re more empathetic. I have complete confidence in you."

"I hate it when you try to make me feel like I’m better than I really am," the young woman groused, unable to hide a grin.

"I’ve yet to do that, Hennessey. You’re every bit the woman that I think you are."

She took a long walk around the compound, trying to decide how to let Townsend know she was aware of her latest prank. It was almost 9:00 when she found herself back at the bungalow, still unsure of her plan. The light was on in Townsend’s room, and after a brief knock, Hennessey entered.

The younger woman was sitting on her bed, drawing on a large sketchpad. Hennessey sat on the edge of the bed and looked over the top of the pad. "I didn’t know that you could draw."

"I can’t. I just play around with it." For a change, Townsend was relaxed and unguarded, her protective shell nowhere to be seen. She took a swig off her liter water bottle, and Hennessey twitched her head in the direction of the bottle.

"I just went on a very long walk and I’m parched. Can I have a sip?"

"Uhm … no, no, I uhm … think I’m coming down with a cold. I’ll get you a fresh bottle from the refrigerator."

Reaching out quickly, Hennessey said, "I have a very good immune system. I’ll risk it." She lifted the bottle to her lips and let a few drops trickle in. Handing the bottle back, she asked, "Not even a mixer, Townsend?"

Looking at her with a bored expression, the blonde said, "Should I pack now or wait until the morning?"

"That depends. Since you’re gonna have to walk to wherever it is you’re going, you might want to travel light."

"Come on! You have to kick me out! I broke into the headmaster’s house!"

"Uh-huh, you sure did. You should have seen her face when she mixed herself a nice, big water and tonic." The smile on Hennessey’s face was gentle, and warm, thoroughly confusing the younger woman.

"Is my mother paying extra to keep me here? What in the fuck is going on?"

"We agreed to teach you a few things this summer, Townsend. We fully intend to do that. You’ll be going home – in August, with everyone else."

"Why are you torturing me? I don’t want to be here!"

"Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem like the kind of woman who doesn’t want to be anywhere. You remind me just a little bit of my mom."

"Lucky you."

"Not really," she said. "It’s painful to see someone your age who looks to be in so much turmoil. At least my mom’s thirty-two."

The girl did the math, looking at Hennessey dubiously. "You mean forty-two, don’t you?"

"Nope. She’s thirty-two. Just past her fifteenth birthday when she gave birth to me."

"Fuck," Townsend mumbled. "Why didn’t she get an abortion?"

"Thanks," Hennessey said dryly. "It’s nice to know you’re so pleased with my presence on the planet."

"Oh, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know much about you, but where I come from no one would let their fifteen-year-old daughter have a baby."

"Well, that’s what the state thought when they severed her parental rights," Hennessey agreed. "Of course, they had a good reason. The house was on fire and she was passed out, dead drunk, on the sofa. Her lit cigarette had dropped onto the floor and started a smoldering fire. Good thing the carpet was so threadbare. It didn’t go up as fast as it would have if it had been plush. Luckily, the fireman ran back in the house when the neighbors told him there was a baby there."

"Jesus, fuck! How old were you?"

"Mmm … I think I was a month old, maybe a little less."

"Damn, Hennessey! Where were her parents?"

"At their house, I guess. My parents were married when I was born – they had a little place on the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks. ‘Course that's the one that burned down. So after everything got settled, my daddy and I moved into his parents’ home. My grandparents raised me."

"Shit," the younger woman mumbled. "Don’t they have some minimum age for getting married down here?"

"Yes, Townsend, even down here there is an age of consent. But it’s only fourteen with parental consent. Where I’m from, having an illegitimate child still bears a stigma."

The blonde actually looked contrite for a moment, then muttered, "I’m sorry. Do you see your mother at all?"

"Oh, sure. Right before I left, she came to see me and say goodbye. ‘Course, she tried to wheedle ten bucks off of me. Said it was for food – as usual, but the only food she ever buys is eighty proof. I’d be amazed if she weighs ninety pounds, and she’s at least as tall as you are."

"God damn … you must hate her."

Hennessey’s eyes opened wide. "I most certainly do not! She’s my mamma, I’ll always love her. I just can’t save her from herself."

"But how can you love someone who treats you that way? Jesus, she almost killed you!"

"She has a disease, Townsend. She’s so far gone in her illness that I’m quite sure it’ll kill her – probably before she’s forty but how can you hate someone who already hates herself so badly? Yes, she breaks my heart; yes, I’d give anything to have had a real mother when I was growing up; yes, I wish she hadn’t come to my grade school, blind drunk, begging me for my milk money in front of the other kids; yes, there have been times when I wished she had never been born. But she was, and I was, and we just have to make the best out of it. I swear I’ll miss her when she’s gone."

Townsend was quiet for a while, looking everywhere but into Hennessey’s eyes. "Why do I remind you of her?"

Reaching out with a gentle hand, Hennessey touched Townsend’s chin and lifted it until they were facing each other. "Because you’re the age she was when she was hospitalized for drinking herself into a coma, and I can only guess that you must somehow be bedeviled by the same kind of pain." She saw the young woman flinch at this revelation, obviously reminded of her own recent hospitalization. Hennessey stood up and took the liter of gin. "It’s not too late, Townsend. You’re right on the cusp of addiction. It’s a hell of a lot easier to turn back now than it will be later. Don’t go down that path." She closed her eyes for a moment, then added just one word, spoken in a hoarse voice. "Please."

Part 2

The next morning, Townsend showed up right on time for her feedback session with Hennessey. "Hi," the teacher said. "Have a seat."

"Is there any coffee around here?" Townsend asked, running a hand through her disordered hair. Hennessey looked at her for a moment, noting the tremor in her hand, and the pasty white color of her skin.

"It’s not easy, is it?" Hennessey asked, softly, taking Townsend’s trembling hand in her own. She examined it carefully, rubbing her thumb across the faint yellow stains that marred the skin between her second and third fingers. "Stopping smoking and drinking in the space of two days must be very hard for you."

"Whose fault is that?" she retorted, her mood foul.

"Mine, I guess. How long have you been smoking?"

"About three years."

"Would you like me to buy some nicotine patches for you? I hate to see you suffer like this."

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at the infuriating woman. "Why are you so fucking nice to me on the one hand, and then torturing me on the other? Why not just let me have my cigarettes?" She stood up and started to pace across the small office. "Why do you fucking care?"

"I’m not entirely sure," Hennessey admitted quietly, her accent as smooth and sweet as apple butter. "But I do. Not just because it’s my job to enforce the rules, either. I genuinely care about you, and I’m not going to let your nasty temper keep me from stopping you from harming yourself. I’m going to stay on the job until you learn how to stop on your own."

The blonde flopped down in the chair and stared at her. "Can I transfer to another bungalow?"

Hennessey laughed softly. "Do you honestly think anyone else would take you? I haven’t told the other house leaders about you, but word is spreading like wildfire. You’re persona non grata, sweet pea, and you’re my cross to bear – until August."

"I should live so long."

"You will if I have anything to say about it," Hennessey said. "Now, let’s talk about your paper."

"Oh, spare me. It’s too early in the morning."

"This is my job, Townsend. Now, I’ll go get you some coffee, but we’re gonna talk about this." She stood and asked, "Black, I suppose?"

"How’d you know?"

"It’s harsher than way. Seems like your style." And with that, the lanky young woman strode from the office, Townsend scooting her chair part way into the hall to watch her easy gait. Women with asses like that should not be allowed to wear baggy shorts!

When Hennessey returned, she handed her student a cup of coffee and kept a mug of tea for herself. "Now, let’s make one thing clear. I don’t expect you to be a carbon copy of your mother. I promise I will try never to compare you to her, okay?"

"Okay. You’ll be the first teacher I’ve ever had who didn’t, but I’ll give you a fair try."

"Great!" Hennessey beamed a smile at her, and Townsend found herself returning it with equal brilliance. "That being said, I’ll admit to being disappointed with this effort."

"No kidding? Fisting isn’t your cup of tea?"

"Earl Grey," she replied, hoisting her mug. "And I’m not talking about the content. I’m talking about the style. I specifically asked you to talk about something that moved you, Townsend, but you didn’t capture any emotion at all in this piece. I’ve never been in the position you were in – literally or figuratively, but I can only imagine that your emotions were on a roller coaster during that encounter. But this reads like a technical manual – not like the emotive piece I was looking for."

"Wait just a fucking minute," the younger woman said. "You don’t care that I wrote about being fisted … you only care that you couldn’t feel my pain?"

"Pain, excitement, fear, trepidation, desire, longing. I have no idea which of those emotions – if any, you felt while that woman was … fisting you. What did it feel like when she first asked you to go to her apartment? What did you expect? Did you have second thoughts while you were walking over there? Set the stage, Townsend! What was the night like? Cool, damp, warm, hot? Let me feel how your emotions matched or conflicted with the weather. Tell me something to let the excitement build while you’re walking over there."

"You’re serious," the blonde said, still disbelieving.

"Of course I’m serious. The piece needs to build, Townsend. If you’re going to do this in chronological order, it’s important to let the reader start to worry or get excited – let us feel what you felt.

"Dang, Townsend, I want to know how you felt when you realized she was going to put her whole hand into you. Didn’t you have even a moment when you were afraid that she might tear your vagina? It didn’t sound like you were very excited when she began – what was going on in your mind? Tell me what causes a girl to let a strange woman try to fist her when she’s not even sexually excited.

"I’m not looking for hearts and flowers, here. It was obvious that you didn’t care for each other – so go the other way and talk about how desolate you must feel to let a complete stranger violate your body that way. Hell, in my county a person would get life imprisonment for doing that against a woman’s will! Talk about how empty your soul has to be to give your body over to an unknown woman who might, intentionally or unintentionally, injure you. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer never to have to have my vagina stitched up. What’s it like to not even care?

"I want you to strip away the veneer, Townsend. I don’t want to just know the technical details. It doesn’t matter if the reader doesn’t know how to fist someone after they read your piece. What does matter is that they know what it feels like to let a stranger do whatever she wanted to a young girl who should never have been put in that situation. Let the reader feel what drives you to be so cavalier with your health and your safety. That’s what’s interesting."

The younger woman nodded vacantly, astonished by Hennessey’s words.

"Let the expression of your experiences help get some of your feelings out, Townsend. Use your writing to explore how you feel – then maybe you won’t have to spend the night in the hospital with some intern practicing his surgical technique on your vulva.

"Now, I want you to pick one of the pieces we work on this summer and really polish it. It doesn’t have to be this one, but keep that in the back of your mind. Pick one that really interests you, and apply the things you learn this summer to it. By the end of the summer I want to see at least one piece that reflects the fire I see in your eyes. You can do this, Townsend. I can feel the talent you have – just waiting for an outlet."

"Unrealized potential," she drawled, showing a wan smile. "I’ve been hearing that since first grade."

"Then it’s about time to start realizing it, isn’t it?" the infuriating woman asked, giving yet another of those mesmerizing smiles.

On Friday, MaryAnn caught up with Hennessey during the lunch break. "How goes it with Satan’s daughter?" she asked, giving her a wink.

"Well, I thought I’d outsmarted her. On Wednesday, I assigned them the task of writing about the most interesting museum they’d ever been to. Did you have any idea there was an antique vibrator and dildo museum in San Francisco?"

"Good Lord, Hennessey, I think you might have met your match here. This girl sounds like she’s got enough spunk to take on the whole camp!"

There was no school on the weekends, and each house leader had free rein to set up group activities as she saw fit. Hennessey decided to take her group on a long walk around the compound, pointing out the flora and fauna of the palmetto state. Most of the girls were fairly interested, few of them having been to the low country before. But, as Hennessey had feared, Townsend only had the stamina to make it halfway around the large compound. Her chain smoking and drinking had rendered her mostly incapable of sustained physical activity, and she begged off when they reached the beach. "Can I just lie here on the dock until you guys come back?" she asked, totally out of breath.

"Sure. Do you have sunblock on?"

"Yes, Mother," Townsend grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, we’ll be back in about an hour. Don’t roll off and drown," Hennessey said. "We’d miss you somethin’ fierce."

The rest of them took off again, and Townsend did just what she said she’d do – collapsed onto the dock and fell asleep in seconds.

When the group returned, Hailey scampered ahead to tell Townsend they were back. For some reason, much to Hennessey’s amazement, the shy, innocent girl had taken a liking to the surly young woman. But when Hailey reached the dock, she stopped and stared, obviously terrified. She pointed with a shaking hand, unable to get a word out of her mouth. Hennessey took off, sprinting the last fifty yards, and wrapped an arm around Hailey’s trembling shoulders. "What’s wrong?"

"Sp … spider!"

Indeed, there was a rather substantial sand colored spider perched on Townsend’s collar, and as the pair watched, it skittered along her neck, disappearing from view. That was enough for Hailey to sound the alarm, and she screamed with all her might.

Townsend flew into a sitting position, looking around wildly. "What the fuck?"

"Spider! There’s a big, nasty spider in your hair, or your shirt, or somewhere!"

The blonde leapt to her feet and yanked her shirt off, surprising all by her braless state. "Where is it?" she demanded, turning her back to Hennessey.

Hennessey stepped forward and ran her cool fingers along Townsend’s hot, sweaty neck, lifting her hair out of the way to examine her. Combing through her hair with her fingers, she found the spider and tossed it back onto the sand. "I got it. No problem."

"It bit her! It bit her! It’s poisonous!"

"Hailey, that was a wolf spider," Hennessey said. "They aren’t poisonous. Now, just calm down."

"Look! On her neck! It really bit her!"

Hennessey moved around to the front to get a better look, and brushed the hair from Townsend’s neck, taking a brief glance at the indicated mark. "That’s not a bite," she assured both girls. "It’s just a … bruise. Nothing to worry about."

Townsend had the decency to blush as she put her shirt back on, muttering, "Try to get a nap around here and all hell breaks loose." She strode off, tucking her shirt into her shorts, grumbling the whole while.

After they returned to the bungalow, everyone washed up and started to head over to the dining room for lunch. Hennessey caught Townsend’s eye and said, "I’ve ordered lunch to be delivered here. I’d like to talk with you … in private."

"Now what?" the blonde asked, falling onto the sofa.

"It can wait for a few minutes," Hennessey said. "Just relax while I go get the sand off myself."

When she returned, the girl was already digging into her lunch, her appetite much improved from when she’d arrived the previous weekend. Hennessey sat next to her and arranged her sandwich, then took a big bite. "Mmm … delicious."

"Out with it, chief. What’d I do this time?"

"Well, even though I didn’t conduct a strip search – and maybe I should have," she drawled lazily, "I don’t remember seeing that mark on your neck before. I’d like to know who gave it to you."

Narrowing her eyes, the blonde snapped, "Why? So you can get one for yourself?"

"No, thanks. I don’t have to prove to people that someone finds me desirable enough to kiss. I prefer to keep my private life private."

"I don’t have to tell you who I’m fooling around with. I read that ridiculous list of rules, and it doesn’t say a damned thing about that."

"No, but it does say that a camper is prohibited from harassing or abusing another camper in any way. I want to make sure you’re not forcing one of the other girls to do something she’s not ready for."

Townsend looked as though she’d been slapped. "Are you accusing me of molesting one of these little creeps?" She leapt to her feet, her lunch hitting the floor as she did so. "Go fuck yourself, Hennessey. I don’t have to force anyone to do me!"

She ran to her room, crying so loudly that she sounded hysterical. Hennessey was right on her heels; and she sat down on the end of the bed, reaching out to gently touch her leg, Townsend yanked it away, then kicked out hard with it, knocking the larger woman to the floor. "Get out of my room, or I’ll tell them that you did it!"

Hennessey sat on the floor for a few minutes, uncertain as to how to proceed. She didn’t want to upset the girl any more than she already had, but she felt an obligation to find out who Townsend had been with – particularly if it was a younger girl. She started to get up, but her hand came in contact with a cool, glass bottle. Pulling it from under the bed, she shook her head when she saw the label. "This is the cheapest gin known to man. My mother wouldn’t even drink this." She paused, then said, "Well, she would, but no one with an intact stomach lining would. Why on earth would you stoop to drinking something like this? God damn, it, Townsend!" She stood up, and all at once it hit her. "Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Take off your shirt." Hennessey was all business now, not a flicker of humor in her expression. Slowly, Townsend did so, holding the shirt to her breasts. "Let me see, Townsend. You either show me, or the doctor."

She lowered her shirt, and Hennessey looked her over briefly, then closed her eyes. She had noticed other marks on the girl’s body when she was on the dock, but didn’t look too carefully at the time, trying to respect her privacy. "Who did this to you?" Her voice was quiet and low, but there was a rage burning in her that was unmistakable.

"Nobody you know," the girl said quietly.

"Did he rape you?"

"How do you know it was a man? Lots of girls like to play rough."

"The skin around your nipple is broken, Townsend. None of the girls here did that to you. Please tell me." She reached out and touched her shoulder, gripping it lightly. "Please."

The girl stared at the floor, finally saying, "One of the guys that delivers laundry."

"Did he rape you?" Hennessey’s gaze was unflinching, penetrating.

"No. He … he said he’d buy me a fifth every week if I’d … you know."

"No, I don’t know. Tell me."

The fierce blue eyes bored into her, and Townsend heard herself telling all. "I stopped him at the gate. He seemed kinda … sleazy. Guys like that are always good for a bottle. He said he’d keep me stocked if I’d blow him."

Hennessey let out a breath, then said, "Maybe you do it differently than we do in the South, but how does a man nearly bite your nipple off while you’re giving him head? The geometry doesn’t work, Townsend. Now, please, tell me the truth."

"I am telling the truth. I had to let him paw me to get him hot," she said. "You’d think an underage girl would do the trick – but no, he had to suck and bite on me for ten minutes in the cab of that truck. Sick bastard. What kinda guy can’t get hard without making a girl scream?"

Hennessey stood and handed Townsend’s shirt back to her. "Get dressed. We’re going to go pay a visit to MaryAnn."

"Finally! My ticket out of this dump."

"No chance. We’re gonna go get that man’s ass fired from here to Sunday, then we’re gonna call the police and hopefully have him arrested. After that, we’ll call your parents, and then you and I will make a visit to the doctor to get you a tetanus shot and a pelvic exam, since I’m still not sure I believe he didn’t rape you." She stood over the girl, seeing the look of shame that darted across her face, only to be replaced by her usual scowl. "Having fun yet?" Hennessey asked, her tone lacking even a hint of humor.

They were unable to reach Mrs. Bartley, and after some serious begging from Townsend, they agreed to try her again the next day rather than notifying Townsend’s father. The day had been a long one, and quite draining for all concerned, and both young women were ready for bed by 9:00. Hennessey sat on the edge of Townsend’s bed, gazing at her with nothing but empathy. "I spoke to MaryAnn while you were making your statement to the police. We both think you need more help than we can give you. I found an AA meeting here on the island that’s primarily for teenaged alcoholics. You and I are going to go to the meeting tomorrow night."

"You can’t make me do that, Hennessey," the young woman said, her eyes burning.

"Well, I can’t carry you in and strap you to the chair, but I’m going to take every privilege away until you agree to go. No more TV, no more MP3’s, no more CD’s and no more Internet. You can either sit in this room alone every night, or you can go to the meeting. I’ll even buy you an ice cream cone when it’s over."

"Don’t do me any favors," she snarled.

"Okay, then I’ll buy myself an ice cream cone. We leave right after dinner."

They reached Mrs. Bartley in Paris the next morning, and the woman, while concerned, was not shocked in the least. "I think you should let Townsend decide whether she wants to press charges against the man," she decided. "It certainly sounds like she lured him into it."

MaryAnn blinked her eyes slowly, her surprise evident. "Well, I’d agree that she did, but it’s still a felony, Mrs. Bartley. I don’t think Townsend gets to choose whether to pursue it. The police have been notified."

"Oh, of course she does. If you tell the district attorney that she won’t testify, they don’t have a case. We’ve been through this type of thing before. You can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do."

After deliberating with Townsend, the young woman decided that she didn’t want to testify against the deliveryman. Hennessey thought that was a very poor choice, but she was unable to sway her. He lost his job with the laundry company, but Hennessey knew that he would likely prey on another child, and it made her sick to her stomach to think that Townsend’s decision could enable that.

The first two weeks of AA meetings were hellish. Hennessey silently cursed Townsend’s name more times than she could count, but through coercion alone she got her to attend fourteen consecutive meetings. On the way home in the school van after the fourteenth meeting, Townsend looked at the house leader curiously and asked, "Why do you go to these with me? Couldn’t some employee just drop me off?"

"Yeah. But I don’t trust you to stay. You haven’t proven yourself to be very reliable, Townsend. I want to make sure you go, and as long as you’re going, I might as well go, too."

"But what do you get out of it? Why not wait in the car, or go have a cup of that tea you’re always drinking."

"I don’t go to Al-Anon meetings much anymore, but I find it helpful to remind myself that this is a disease – and see how hard people have to struggle to escape it. It gives me more empathy for the alcoholics in my life."

"More than your mom?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah. My dad, too." Hennessey didn’t say any more, and she was giving off vibes that led Townsend to believe she was through revealing her secrets.

"I guess you have to add me to your list, too, huh?"

Surprised to hear Townsend refer to herself as an alcoholic for the first time, the older woman smiled, sparing a glance at her passenger. "Yeah. You’re my immediate concern."

The next week went significantly better. The stories that Townsend chose to write were neither prurient, nor obscene, and Hennessey was pleased to see that she was starting to unleash some of her creative talents.

On Saturday night they were heading back to the Academy when Hennessey asked, "Hey, would you like to go over to Harbor Town and have some coffee? It’s such a nice night, and I’d like to be around some adults for a change. I really love the lighthouse when the sun goes down."

"Do I qualify as an adult? I don’t even have a driver’s license," Townsend smirked. "I got caught driving without a permit, and now I can’t get one until I’m eighteen."

"You might be young, but you’ve got an old soul." Hennessey said this with equal parts humor and sorrow, both emotions reflected in her eyes.

Sitting outside of a small coffee bar near the Harbor Town Golf Links, watching the dying rays of the sun, Townsend sipped at her coffee and broke the silence. "Since I’m masquerading as an adult, can I ask you an adult question?"

"Sure. You can ask me anything. I won’t always tell you what you want to know, but you can always ask."

The blonde laughed gently, shaking her head. "You really are an adult, aren’t you?"

"Yep. You’ve gotta grow up early when your parents are children."

"Right. Well, uhm … what I wanted to know was … are you … straight?"

"And why do you want to know that?" Her eyes were twinkling as she held her mug to her lips, and looked at Townsend through her long, dark bangs.

"Just curious. No special reason," Townsend said. "You just know so much about me and my … proclivities. I thought it was only fair to know about yours."

"Well, Townsend, I normally wouldn’t answer that question, but you’re right. I know more about you than I do most of my relatives – so I’ll share." She put her mug down and tilted her head. "I am … a chaste … celibate … heterosexual … to the best of my knowledge, that is."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me," she said, smiling gently. "I’ve never had sex, so I guess I can’t be entirely certain that I’m straight, but I am attracted to men rather than women."

"You’ve never … ever … had sex?"

"Mmm … I think I’d recall," she said dryly. "No, by my own choice, I never have."

"Why?"

"A few simple reasons," she said, ticking them off on her fingers. "One, my mamma was pregnant when she was fourteen, and I swore on a stack of bibles that was never gonna happen to me. Two, abstinence is the best form of birth control, and a guarantee that you won’t catch an STD. Three, I’m not gonna wind up married to someone from Beaufort. It’s a lovely town, but I come with a lot of baggage. No one of any quality would be caught dead dating, much less marrying a Boudreaux, and I’m not gonna marry somebody who isn’t my equal – intellectually, at least. It just seemed to me that the best way to make sure I didn’t fall for some local yokel was to never go out with any of them."

"You … a woman as gorgeous as you … have never been on a date?"

"Nope. The good ol' boys thought I was a stuck-up bitch, and the classy boys thought I was trailer trash – only good for a quick roll in the hay. I’m not about to give my body to someone who doesn’t deserve it – and that’s that!"

"Bu … but how do you deal with the … need? You do have needs, don’t you?"

"Everyone has needs, Townsend, and we’re not going to discuss how I handle mine. That’s your bailiwick. I’m sure your next essay will be an in-depth look at your masturbatory habits."

"Ah hah! You do masturbate!"

"I said that you did," Hennessey said, tweaking her nose. "That is, when you’re not occupied picking strangers up in bars."

Her words were teasing, and her smile gentle, but Hennessey’s words cut through the younger woman like a scalpel. Her hurt showed clearly on her face, and Hennessey reached out and took her hand. "Hey, I’m sorry. Did that hurt your feelings?"

Biting her lip, Townsend nodded quickly, tears leaking out of her eyes.

Chafing her hand between her own, Hennessey soothed, "I’m sorry, sweet pea. I was just teasing you."

"I know," she sniffed. "It just … it just makes me sick to think of doing that. I never would have done that if I hadn’t been drunk." She lay her head down on the table and sobbed. "I’m such a whore, Hennessey. No decent woman will ever want me. I’ve done everything there is to do. There’s not one virgin part of me left."

Stroking her back, Hennessey scooted close and whispered in her ear. "Have you ever truly been in love?"

"N … no. Never."

"Then you’ll have something very, very special to share with someone someday, Townsend. You’ll be able to give the woman you fall in love with your heart."

Things had been too quiet, and Hennessey knew that could only mean trouble. It was mid-July, and Townsend had not been in a significant scrape in almost two weeks – meaning she was well overdue. After they returned from their AA meeting, Townsend said she was heading over to the recreation bungalow to surf the Internet, but when Hennessey went over there she found only four of her charges – Townsend and Devlin notably missing.

Devlin had been a puzzlement to her from the beginning. The young woman was a little quirky and a little obstreperous, but otherwise she hadn’t given Hennessey any trouble at all. She was in the art program, so Hennessey didn’t have much contact with her except around the bungalow – and when she was at home she was usually in her room drawing. To Hennessey’s knowledge, she and Townsend were barely acquaintances – but something about their concurrent disappearances gave her pause.

She checked all of the usual spots, but neither young woman turned up. It was only 9:00, and since it was Saturday night, they didn’t have a curfew. Quite a few of the girls stayed in the rec bungalow until midnight or one, watching videos and acting like typical adolescents. But she was uneasy enough that she couldn’t rest until she found the pair.

Looking all around the compound, her worry grew until she was about to call security to help her search. She was headed back to her bungalow when she saw movement by the boat dock. The old powerboat was seldom used, but kept under padlock, just to avoid having a camper harm herself. Suddenly the ancient engine coughed to life – spitting fire. Hennessey started to run, going as fast as the deep sand would let her. By the time she reached the dock, all she saw under the light of the full moon was Townsend’s backpack, obviously left in haste. She picked it up and searched it, finding a set of tools wrapped in a soft leather case. Well, I’ll be damned! She’d read enough detective novels to know what she held in her hands – a set of burglary tools, complete with files, a pry bar and a lock pick.

The girls didn’t know they’d been spotted during their escape, and Hennessey sat on the end of the dock, whiling away the time thinking of appropriate punishments for the pair. Ruling out the rack, the lash, the whip and the iron maiden, she decided to bar both of them from the recreation bungalow for a week. That was a fairly severe sentence – especially for Townsend, who was an Internet junkie – but being out on the ocean at night was a very serious crime, and she was bound and determined to make them pay for it.

When the boat sputtered home over an hour later, she was surprised to find Devlin crying and Townsend glowering at the younger girl.

"It’s her fault!" Devlin cried. "She talked me into going, the whole thing was her idea, and then she … she … tried to rape me!"

"Oh, grow up," Townsend grumbled. "You wanted to play around, too. I just tried to go one tiny step further than you wanted to, and all of a sudden I’m a rapist. You’re a big, whining, baby!"

"And you’re a big, dyke rapist!" Devlin leapt from the boat, running across the sand and crying loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the surf.

"Let’s go," Hennessey growled, grabbing Townsend’s backpack. She marched across the sand, refusing to reply to Townsend’s repeated questions. Once at the bungalow, she breathed a sigh of relief that none of the other girls were back yet, then she got to work. With Townsend standing by mutely, she tore her room apart bit by bit. She examined every item in the room, going to the point of tossing Townsend’s tampons out of the box and checking that each one was still sealed.

The search took over an hour, and when she was finished she had discovered a pint of vodka – a good quality brand at least – and a bottle of OxyContin, a powerful narcotic prescribed for Mrs. Bartley. Taking the drugs, the alcohol and the burglary tools, she left the room, leaving a stunned Townsend standing in the middle of the mess, tears rolling down her cheeks.

An hour-long discussion with Devlin revealed that she had, in fact, wanted to sneak away with Townsend. She admitted that she had also wanted to kiss her, but that Townsend had unhooked her bra, and had frightened her by doing so. Hennessey had the impression that Devlin was afraid word would get out about her agreeing to the kissing – so she tried to counter that with the overblown accusation of rape. The girl finally calmed down to the point that she agreed to keep the matter private, and she promised to apologize to Townsend for going to extremes.

As Hennessey left Devlin’s room, a contrite Townsend was sitting on the floor in the hall in front of Hennessey’s room. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No." Hennessey took out her key and unlocked the door, stepping over the younger woman to enter. "I’m not up to it tonight, Townsend. I need some space to avoid saying something that I’ll regret." With that, she closed her door, clicking the lock sharply.

* * *

The next morning, Hennessey found a hand written note that had been pushed under her door. Opening it, she read,

I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever said those words and meant them – but I mean them this time. I betrayed your trust, and that’s something I’ve never had from another soul. I’m so sorry for destroying it, Hennessey. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but please, please give me the chance.

I need to be here, I need to stay in AA, I need to be away from my friends at home to stay sober. Please, please don’t send me home, now. I’m begging you – for my life.

Townsend

Hennessey read the note three times, then went to the young woman’s door and knocked softly. Hailey was already up and gone, probably to flee the mess that still littered the room. For some odd reason, Townsend had slept on the mattress on the floor, the contents of her suitcases strewn around her.

Kneeling, then sitting on her haunches, Hennessey reached out and stroked Townsend’s hair, watching as the morning light caught the strands, glowing like spun-gold. "Townsend," she whispered.

The sleepy eyes blinked open, and immediately began to fill with tears. "Don’t make me leave," she sobbed, throwing her arms around Hennessey’s waist and nuzzling her head into her lap.

"Hey … hey … I’m not going to make you leave, sweet pea. I told you that at the beginning, and I meant it. We’re stuck with each other for another month and a half. Let’s make the best of it, okay?"

Looking up at her with tears running down her cheeks, she asked, "I don’t have to leave?"

"No, of course not. You can’t use the rec bungalow for a week, though."

"A whole week?"

"Seven days, buddy. Both you and Devlin. Starting today. Now, let’s get this room cleaned up. Hailey must have thought you had a localized hurricane in here."

"I did," Townsend said quietly.

"I’m sorry I was so angry," Hennessey said. "I know that you’ll have slips … everyone does. But I just lost it when I found the liquor and the pills. I felt like you’d been lying to me the whole time. That hurt, Townsend. You’re going to have to tell your AA group about your slip. You’ll have to give your thirty day chip back, too," she said, a little sadness showing through.

"I haven’t been lying," she said softly. "The seal’s still on the bottle, and you can count the pills. The number on the bottle is exactly how many are in there. I just needed them for … insurance," she mumbled.

Hennessey grasped her chin and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. "No, you don’t. You’ve got all the insurance you need in here," she tapped the blonde head, "and here." Gently, she thumped the skin over the smaller woman’s heart. "You can do this, Townsend. There isn’t anything in the world that having that alcohol in your room will do except drive you deeper into your disease. It will only ensure that you won’t stay sober when times are tough."

"I feel so … alone without it," she whispered. "I thought about it all night, Hennessey. When things were really hard, I could always tell myself that if they got worse I could take a drink. Now what do I have?"

"You have your own strong spirit … and my complete support," Hennessey pledged, wrapping the smaller woman in a hug that soothed deep into Townsend’s very soul.

That night, driving home from the AA meeting, Townsend asked, "You know, in all of this time, I’ve never asked you what you’re going to do after camp is over. I assume you’re going to college?"

"Yep. Sure am."

"Where are you going?"

"Boston … well, Cambridge, to be precise."

"You’re kidding me! You’re going to Harvard?"

"Don’t act so surprised, sweet pea. Behind this slow, Southern accent is a pretty sharp brain."

"Oh, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I just can’t see you in New England. You’re such a Southern girl. But, other than that, I can’t believe you’ll be in my home town!" Her face fell as she said, "Of course, I’m there for about two weeks a year."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Vermont. I worked my way out of Massachusetts by the time I was through with eighth grade. It pisses me off that all of those schools share their little bits of gossip."

"Do you want to go back to Boston?"

"Hell, yes! I love Boston! Vermont’s good for one thing – maple syrup."

"Well, make that a goal. Impress the people at your current school so that they’ll give you a good recommendation so you can go to college in Boston. Gossip goes both ways, you know."

"Hmm … I’m not familiar with that concept," Townsend chuckled. "Besides, my parents would have to donate a dozen new buildings to get Harvard to let me in."

"There are other schools in Boston, Townsend. And no, I don’t mean MIT. You’re going to have to set some realistic goals. You know, my whole life revolves around goals, and they’ve given me the structure that I’ve needed to mature. I’m where I am today because of goals I set when I was fourteen."

"Yeah, well, I’m more of an extemporaneous kinda person. I do better free-stylin’."

"Life happens to you, Townsend. If you don’t try to make things happen your way, you’re just buffeted by the fates."

"I’ll give that some serious thought, Hennessey. First chance I get." The look on her face indicated that chance would be far in the future.

On the first of August, Hennessey stood before her class, a wide smile on her face. "For the first time, the editors of The Scroll have asked our class to submit pieces for publication."

"What’s The Scroll?" someone asked.

"Oh. I thought you were all familiar with it. It’s the publication the Academy puts out to commemorate the summer class. The Scroll is for the writing program, The Lyre is for the music program and The Palette is for the art program. These publications are widely read, and having your work included is a great honor. Normally, the more advanced classes fill the available space, but they’ve decided that’s not fair to the other classes. So, they’ve asked you all to submit a short piece. They won’t necessarily publish them all – they might only have room for one piece from us. It can be prose or poetry, whatever suits you. For the prose there’s a limit of five hundred words. As you know, that’s not much space, so every word will have to count. Now, I know I told you at the beginning of the term that you could work on one of you essays and hand it in again, but you might want to consider doing this project instead. Of course, if you’re not interested, that’s okay, too. This is only for those of you who are interested in trying."

"Can we see one of the old issues?"

"Sure. They’re over in the office the editorial staff works out of. Drop by and look at the library."

"So, we don’t have to do this?" Townsend asked.

"Nope. No pressure, guys. If you don’t have time, or you’re not interested, don’t bother. But I can guarantee you that if your piece is accepted, you’ll be in one of the more advanced classes if you return next year."

"Will you be here next year, Hennessey?" The quiet voice asking the question was Townsend’s, and it was accompanied by a shy glance.

"I hope to be. I’d like to come back each year until I graduate from college. I love it here," she said, smiling warmly.

"I like it, too," Townsend heard herself saying, surprising everyone in the room – save for Hennessey.

"Who’s up for horseback riding today?" Hennessey asked on the first Saturday of August.

She received six affirmative nods, the Saturday morning ride having become a bit of a tradition over the last month. They set off, with Hennessey on her massive stallion, Tobias, carrying the saddlebags filled with emergency supplies. They trotted along the beach, the horses kicking up sand as they ran through the light surf. After dashing up and down in the surf for a while, they headed inland, making their way through the pine and hardwood forest. There wasn’t much forested acreage on the island anymore, most of the trees having fallen victim to loggers, and then developers.

Hennessey loved the inland portion of the trail, having seen so much of the natural beauty of Beaufort County lost in just her short lifetime. They’d gone about halfway when Devlin’s horse threw a shoe. That wouldn’t have been such a problem on the sand, but the uneven, root-studded trail was far too dangerous for a horse to traverse unshod.

Townsend slid off her mount, a well-mannered filly that responded very well to her, and walked over to Devlin. "I can shoe her for you."

"You can?" the young woman asked dubiously.

"Yeah. I’ve been riding since I was in diapers. No problem."

Hennessey watched the interchange, preferring to let the girls take care of things on their own, if possible. She’d seen Townsend’s competence around the horses, so she felt very comfortable letting the young woman perform this task.

Townsend reached into the saddlebags and removed a horseshoe, a hammer and a few nails. She set to work, with a few girls helping to hold the horse still, and the others keeping her hoof in position for the shoe. Everything was going well, with Hennessey just observing, until a harmless brown snake slid across the path. Hailey screamed and the horse spooked, kicking out powerfully, and knocking Townsend into the air, where she fell in a motionless heap.

Hennessey ran to her, examining her before she moved her an inch. Townsend was unconscious, with a bit of blood running down her neck, seeming to come from her ear. "Oh, no, no, no, no! " Looking up, she shouted, "Go get help. NOW!"

Three girls jumped onto their horses and took off, going as quickly as the narrow path would allow.

The two remaining girls stared at Townsend’s still form, Devlin finding the voice to ask, "Is she gonna die?"

"Jesus, no! I think she might have a fractured skull, though. The damned horse must have kicked her right in the head. Take anything you can find, and if you can’t find anything, take off your shirts. Go to the ocean and wet them, then come back as fast as your legs will carry you. I need something cold to keep the swelling down."

Both girls took what they could find from the saddlebags, then ran back towards the ocean. With her pulse pounding so hard that she felt like her heart would explode, Hennessey did what she could – murmuring to Townsend, and promising that help was coming. "Come on, sweet pea, hang in there. Please, hang in there. Please, Townsend – you can do it, baby."

Miraculously the green eyes fluttered open, and the young woman looked up at Hennessey vacantly. "What happened?"

"You got kicked by the horse. Don’t move, sweetheart. I’m afraid you have a head injury."

"Fuck," she muttered. "I haven’t had a headache this bad since I stopped drinking." Looking up at Hennessey, she asked, "Am I gonna be all right?"

"Yes. Definitely. Not a doubt. Without question."

"That bad, huh?" she asked, smiling weakly.

"I’m afraid your skull is fractured. You’re bleeding from your ear. That can be bad, baby."

"I’m scared, Hennessey," she whispered. "Will you … will you hold me?"

"Oh, Townsend, I’d love to hold you, but I don’t want to move you."

The look the blonde gave her melted her heart, and Hennessey lay down on the trail, tucking an arm around the smaller woman and holding her as close as she dared. "You’re gonna be fine. Just fine, sweetheart."

"For the first time in my life I have something to live for," Townsend muttered. "Just my luck to kill myself."

"You are not going to die," Hennessey whispered fiercely. "You’re gonna be just fine."

Townsend’s hand went to her head and she felt around her ear. "Hennessey?" she asked softly, her eyes going unfocused again.

"What, sweet pea? What is it?"

"If I make it, will you do me a favor?"

"Yes, yes, anything, Townsend."

"Will you kiss me?"

Hennessey paused just a second, then leaned in close and whispered, "I’m so confident that you’ll be fine, that I’m gonna pay up in advance." She hovered over the injured woman for a moment, then dipped her head and kissed her, putting all of her heart and all of her hopes into the tender embrace.

As Hennessey pulled away, she heard the roar of an engine coming across the sand. The doctor whose office was located just outside the compound jumped off the vehicle and rushed over to examine Townsend. "What happened?"

"Horse kicked her in the head. I’m not sure where he got her," Hennessey said, hearing the tears choke her voice.

Swabbing away the blood with some alcohol-soaked gauze pads, the doctor let his fingers linger over an egg-sized knot on the side of Townsend’s head, just behind her temple. "Here’s where he got her," he said. "Was she unconscious?"

"Yeah. For about four minutes. Her eyes keep losing their focus."

"Looks like a concussion. We’ll get her transported as soon as the ambulance arrives."

"But the blood … her ear …"

"Oh, that was from the wound over her ear. I seriously doubt that she has a fractured skull. She’ll be just fine."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hennessey asked, "How will the ambulance get in here?"

"I can walk with help," Townsend said.

"No. We’ll ride," Hennessey said. She went to her horse and quickly removed his saddle, then stepped onto a fallen tree and threw her leg over Tobias’ broad back. Guiding the horse over to the all-terrain-vehicle, she asked, "Can you help her stand on the seat, Doctor Flanders?"

He helped Townsend to her feet, then held her as she stood on the seat. Reaching over, Hennessey pulled her aboard, then cradled her against her chest. "Where did you tell the ambulance to go?" Hennessey asked.

"Right where the forest path meets the highway," the doctor said.

"We’ll be there in a few. Will you call them and tell them we’re coming? Oh, and have one of the girls come get my horse. I’ll tie him to a tree there."

Holding Townsend tightly, Hennessey urged Tobias forward, keeping him at a very slow, gentle pace. "Are you all right? Not too jarring?"

"I’m fine." After a pause, she asked, "That doctor wouldn’t let me get on a horse if I were gonna die, would he?"

Chuckling softly, Hennessey said, "I don’t think so. I think you’re gonna be right as rain."

"Thanks, Hennessey," she said softly, nestling against her. "Thanks for everything."

Part 3

The next morning, Hennessey lightly shook Townsend’s shoulder. "Hi, sweet pea. How’s the melon?"

"Huh?"

"Your head," Hennessey said. "How’s your headache?"

"Mmm … years of alcohol abuse have prepared me well for this," she said, trying not to laugh, knowing that it would only make the headache worse. "Where am I?"

"At the hospital. The doctor said you can go home, but he’d like you to try to get some breakfast down to make sure you’re not nauseous."

"I think I can do that." She struggled to sit up, with Hennessey’s assist. "I’m still a little sick to my stomach, but I’m sure I’ll feel better if I can keep something down."

"That’s the girl." She placed the tray across her lap, and sat on the end of the bed. Townsend took a few bites of the cornflakes, managing to swallow and suffer no ill effects.

"Thanks for picking something simple."

"No problem. I know what you like in the morning." Quickly, she added, "I know what all of you guys like."

Running her foot under the covers, trailing it along Hennessey’s leg, Townsend said, "Don’t worry, pal. I know you don’t feel like I do. I’m just happy to have gotten a kiss."

"Aw, Townsend, don’t say things like that. So much has happened to you in the last two months – far too much to even think about loving someone."

"Who said anything about love?" she asked, trying to hide the hurt. "I just meant that I’d like to fuck your brains out."

Laughing gently, knowing that Townsend was trying to cover, Hennessey nodded. "I do believe you’d be able to. I think you could do anything you set your mind to, Townsend. Anything."

"Anything but you." The younger woman stared at her, not looking away until Hennessey replied to her statement.

"Look, you’ve been in recovery for just over a month. You just turned seventeen. You’re my student. You’re living in my bungalow. The only way a relationship with you would be more illicit is if I became a priest, or you were a goat! Come on, Townsend, look at the reality."

"I am," she answered quietly. "And I also paid close attention to your list. I heard all of the reasons why you shouldn’t have feelings for me – but I never heard you say you didn’t have feelings for me. Am I all alone here, Hennessey, or do you feel something, too?"

Bright blue eyes focused on the floor. "I’d really rather not answer that, Townsend. I know we’ve always been honest with each other – but not this time."

"If you didn’t have feelings for me – would you tell me?"

The dark head nodded. "You know I would."

Reaching out with her hand, Townsend threaded her fingers with Hennessey’s. "Knowing that you care for me – even if it’s just a little, is enough for me. That alone gives me something to live for."

"Oh, Townsend, you’ve got so much to live for. Don’t pin your future on one person. Not any person – me or anyone else. If you don’t love yourself, you can’t possibly love another."

"Hennessey," she said, gazing into her eyes, "will you write to me this fall? I don’t know why, but when you say things like that, it sinks in. Somehow I hear you – in a way I’ve never heard another person."

"I promise I’ll write," she said. "And I won’t critique your style."

"That’s a promise you’ll never be able to keep, chief. Now, let me get this breakfast down so we can get out of this dump."

On the last full week of class, Hennessey stood in front of her students and said, "I’m very pleased to announce that The Scroll has decided to publish not one, but two pieces by members of this class. They’ve chosen to publish both of the pieces that we entered: Amy’s poem, and Townsend’s short essay. Let’s hear it for them!" The rest of the class stood along with Hennessey and applauded for the blushing young women, then each of them gave the pair a hug.

"I know you all know the pieces as well as you know your own names," Hennessey teased, "since we’ve been critiquing them for the last two weeks, but it will still thrill you when you see them in print – trust me."

They spent the rest of the class critiquing the papers of the girls who’d chosen not to enter the competition. The dialogue was fast and furious, as it had been for the last month.

The girls had become a cohesive team, offering help and support to each other – and Hennessey had been very pleased to find that Townsend had gone out of her way to help one girl who was still struggling a little. Finding Townsend acting as a leader both surprised and delighted Hennessey, and she realized she was gazing at the woman with an incredibly goofy look on her face.

Townsend gave her a smile, then signaled the other girls. They all walked up to the front of the room, where Townsend held out a small, neatly wrapped box. "We’ve all enjoyed this class so much that we wanted you to know that each and every one of us wants to be teacher’s pet," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"Aw … you guys didn’t have to do this." Hennessey was obviously delighted, but she tried to maintain her professionalism. "It’s really not necessary to give me a gift. I’m very well paid …"

"Will you just open it and stop wasting time?" Townsend said.

Grinning sheepishly, Hennessey did so, opening the box to reveal a gold chain with a tiny, perfectly formed golden apple. "A permanent apple for our favorite teacher," Townsend said, charmed by the stray tears that rolled down the brunette’s cheeks.

At the end of class, the girls were all still chatting, unable to keep the excitement from their voices. "It’s a big day for you, Ms. Bartley," Hennessey said as they walked out. "Getting a piece published in The Scroll, and getting your sixty day chip tonight."

"Can we go somewhere to celebrate?" Townsend asked. "If you give me my charge cards back, I could take you to the best restaurant on Hilton Head."

"You can have your charge cards and your money back," Hennessey said. "But I can’t let you take me to dinner. I can’t cross those kinds of lines, Townsend."

"Okay," she said quietly, thinking of another way to spend time together. "How about an ice cream?"

"All right. I’ll buy."

"My father’s going to think I’ve been in isolation," Townsend said. "I’ve never gone more than two days without charging something."

"I’ve never charged anything in my life," Hennessey said. "My grandma always said credit was the devil’s work."

"Wow." Townsend shook her head. "Just … wow."

On Friday, Hennessey spent most of the morning saying goodbye to the girls from her bungalow as well as her writing students. Townsend was the last to leave, having decided to stay at an inn in Charleston to be able to spend a few extra hours alone with Hennessey before her morning flight. "Is there any way I can convince you to come stay with me tonight?" she asked, when they were alone in the bungalow.

"No, Townsend. It’s just not possible."

"But you’re not my teacher any longer, and you’re not my house leader. Damn it, Hennessey, we’re barely a year apart, so it can’t be the age difference!"

"Only chronologically," Hennessey said. "There’s a very, very big gap between us, Townsend. Call it experience, call it maturity, hell … call it sobriety. But we’re not equals. I care for you – I swear I do – but I can’t be with you. It was just three months ago that I was practically turning you over my knee for a spanking. That’s not how equals behave, baby. I’ve worked far too long on my own issues to be in a relationship with someone where I have to be the adult and they get to be the child. I can’t do that again. I just can’t." She started to cry, and soon found herself wrapped in Townsend’s warm embrace.

"Can we be friends?" the soft voice asked.

"Yes, we can be friends. We can always be friends. I promise." Hennessey lifted her head and placed a remarkably soft kiss on Townsend’s cheek. "You’re my very good friend."

"Are you sure you can’t give me a ride as far as your house? It’s on the way to Charleston, isn’t it?"

"No, I can’t give you a ride, and yes, it’s on the way. We need to say goodbye here, sweet pea. It’s best this way." The airport limo pulled up and Hennessey hoisted her friend’s bag into the rear of the van. "I’ll write to you as soon as I get an e-mail address at school."

"Not until then? That’s weeks from now!"

"I don’t have e-mail at home, Townsend. I don’t have a computer."

The younger girl blinked at her, then shook her head. "Can I write to you – snail mail? I’m … I’m worried about staying sober without you to talk to."

"Of course you can write to me." She took the piece of paper that Townsend handed her and wrote down her address. "Write to me every day at the same time. Make it like an appointment, okay? And whenever you feel stressed – go to a meeting. They’ve got them twenty-four hours a day in a big city like Boston. You’ve got to start relying on the meetings to get you through this."

"I know. Can I call you?"

"Oh, Townsend, I just don’t think that’s a good idea. We wouldn’t have any privacy, and my family would want to know what was going on."

"Can you call me?"

"No. I can’t afford long distance calls. I’m sorry, but I can’t."

"I don’t think I can do this without you," the young blonde whispered, trying to stem the tears.

"I know that you can. I have complete confidence in you, Townsend." She opened the van door and urged her to get in, then closed the door, waving as the van pulled away, struggling mightily to avoid crying. That’s the closest I’ve come in years to having a complete co-dependent melt down. That girl could be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to me.

Once Hennessey was settled at Harvard, she and Townsend started writing to each other every day. Within a short time, they were writing twice, then three times a day; and by the end of September they acted as though they were roommates – a few hundred miles apart.

Surprisingly, something began to happen as the weeks passed. Slowly, but surely, Hennessey’s role began to change from mentor to friend. Townsend needed less and less of her reassurance, now relying on the sponsor she had managed to click with in AA. They spent more of their time just sharing the events of their lives and getting to know each other better as equals. Hennessey was incredibly busy, but finding just a few minutes to dash off a sentence or two to her friend kept her grounded. She found herself gravely disappointed when she went to her room and failed to see her mail icon – but always, before another hour had passed, Townsend would check in with some short, but funny reflection, and all was well with the world once again.

By the beginning of November, the wheedling and begging had begun. Townsend was bound and determined to have Hennessey spend Thanksgiving with her in Boston, but no matter how much she begged, the dark-haired woman would not budge, even though she was going to be in Boston alone over the holiday. "It’s too soon, Townsend. I have to maintain some boundaries with you. If I give in to staying at your home, I know the next issue will be sleeping with you – and that’s not going to happen."

"For the time being, you mean."

Hennessey sighed, "Yes, for the time being."

"Okay," Townsend said. "As long as I know that it’s still in the realm of the possible, I can live with that."

Hennessey turned on her computer on the day after Thanksgiving and found one of the most welcome e-mails she’d ever seen.

 From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: November 25, 1994

To: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com>

"I got in! I’m going to college in Boston, baby! Sooner or later – you’re gonna be mine!"

I’m already yours, Hennessey sighed. I just can’t admit to it while you’re still struggling with your sobriety.

Two weeks before Christmas break was set to begin, Hennessey screwed up her courage and wrote an e-mail to Townsend:

 From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: December 11, 1994

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi,

I’ve been thinking a lot about the little dance we’ve been doing, and I’ve decided that I’ve been far too coy. I know you care for me, Townsend – okay, I’ll say it for you – I know you love me. But you don’t know me – or, better said, you don’t know all of me. You only know the woman I let people see. So, I’ve decided that it’s time to let you see the real me. If you can manage it, I’d like you to come home with me for Christmas. You don’t have to come for the whole time – I know your parents will want you home for the actual day, but whatever time you can manage would be just great.

We’re from very different backgrounds, Townsend, and while I don’t think you’re shallow – you might feel differently about me when you see where I’m from. I’ll always be a working class girl from the deep South, and when I graduate I want – no, I need – to go back there. I like Boston just fine – but it’s not home. I need my home, Townsend, and if you want to love me, you’ll have to accept that. So, come with me to Beaufort, baby. Let me show you the South Carolina that I love – so that you can decide if the whole package appeals to you as much as the pieces that I’ve let you see.

Hennessey

The e-mail response time was no more than ten minutes.

 From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: December 11, 1994

Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

"I spoke with my mother, and told her that I’d met a wonderful woman from South Carolina and that I was in love. I said I’d like to go to her home for the entire winter break, and she said that was just lovely. I’m all yours, my little palmetto bug. You just give me the dates, and the airline, and we’re there."

A few days before they were scheduled to depart, Hennessey dropped another bomb on her friend.

 From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: December 20, 1994

Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

"If we’re going to travel together, I want to meet your family. I’m eighteen now, Townsend, but you’re still technically a minor. I want your family to know who I am, and that you and I won’t be sleeping together on this trip. I want them to know that I respect you."

Townsend couldn’t resist. E-mail was not enough; she had to speak to Hennessey about this one. Dialing her room she blurted out, "Are you mad? My mother didn’t bat an eye when she found out that I was exchanging sexual favors for liquor! I’ve been arrested six times, Hennessey, six times! Do you honestly think she cares about my virtue at this point?"

There was silence on the line for a few moments. Finally, Hennessey spoke softly. "I care, Townsend. I care about your virtue, and every other part of you. I’m going to treat you with the respect you deserve until you begin to demand it for yourself. Now, you work out the logistics, but if I don’t get to at least speak to one of your parents, you aren’t going with me. That’s final!"

Townsend ran down the hallway, nearly knocking a startled young woman onto her ass. "Sorry!" she yelled, not slowing a bit. She rapped on the door so sharply that her hand ached, but so intent was she on the goal fixed firmly in her mind, that she was oblivious to the pain. The door opened and Hennessey finally was standing in front of her, the slow, sexy smile lighting up her face in a way that made Townsend’s knees buckle. She fell forward, landing in the taller woman’s embrace.

"Not the most graceful girl in Boston, are ya?" she drawled, her breath against Townsend’s cheek making her shiver.

The blonde gathered her wits and regained her balance, standing under her own power, then threw her arms around Hennessey’s neck, tugging her down to return the kiss that had been burning her lips for months.

"Unh-uh, sweet pea." Hennessey used her leverage to stand up tall, keeping her mouth away from the smaller, but fiercely determined woman. "We don’t greet each other that way. We’re friends, remember?"

"Hennessey! We’re certainly more than friends! We’re meeting each other’s families, for God’s sake!"

"We’re courting," the brunette declared. "If, after an acceptable time period, we decide that we love each other – then, and only then, do we kiss."

"Is this 1994, or 1894? Jesus, Hennessey, you act like we’re Mormons!"

"Having a little decorum isn’t a bad thing, Townsend. Having a relationship with each other is a goal – just like any other goal – this is big stuff, pal, and it’s something we both have to work to achieve."

"Seems like I’m the one doing all the work," Townsend grumbled, shuffling over to pick up Hennessey’s small bag.

As Townsend walked past, the taller woman wrapped her in a tight embrace and squeezed her fiercely. Blue eyes bored into her captive like lasers as she said, "I have to struggle with all of my might to keep my hands off you, Townsend Bartley. I want you more than a possum wants grapes; and if I thought it was the right time, we’d be rolling around in that bed like a couple of rabid muskrats. Don’t you dare tell me you’re doing all the work." She grasped the back of Townsend’s head and pulled it towards her, kissing her forehead, then both cheeks. "If I allow myself to fall in love with you, it’s going to be for the rest of my life. I can wait until we’re both able to make that choice."

Townsend gazed up at her, a blank look on her face. "You’re the only person in my life to have ever rendered me speechless."

They walked down to the car hand in hand, Hennessey allowing that courting couples were allowed to do so. To Hennessey’s surprise, a driver got out and held the back door for them, then took Hennessey’s bag and stored it in the trunk.

"Mom, this is Hennessey Boudreaux. Hennessey, this is my mother, Miranda Bartley."

Hennessey put on her most winning smile, then leaned forward, reaching for the beautifully manicured, baby-soft hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bartley." She had rehearsed the meeting several times, and had decided not to mention the woman’s celebrity. She didn’t care for her books, and she didn’t want to fawn over her just because she was famous.

"The pleasure is mine, Hennessey. I’m very pleased to meet the young woman who has so captured my daughter’s heart."

"She’s captured mine as well, Mrs. Bartley," Hennessey admitted, blushing adorably.

"Well, tell me about yourself, Hennessey," Mrs. Bartley asked as the car glided down the road. "Townsend tells me you’re from Beaufort. I’ve been there many, many times. It’s one of the loveliest cities in the Southeast in my opinion."

"Oh, it is that, Mrs. Bartley."

"But, it’s a rather small town, isn’t it?"

"Yes, ma’am, about ten thousand people in Beaufort proper."

"Do you know the Kingsleys?"

"No, ma’am."

"How about the Hutchinson’s? They run the newspaper, I believe."

"No, ma’am, I haven’t made their acquaintance."

"Mom, do we have to go through your Filofax?" Townsend asked, getting peeved.

"I just thought we might have some mutual acquaintances," Miranda explained.

Hennessey cleared her throat. "Mrs. Bartley, I’m quite sure you and I wouldn’t know the same people. I’ve heard of the families you’ve mentioned, but my family doesn’t live in one of the big mansions in Beaufort. We’re just working class people trying to get by."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened, and she said, "I’m sorry, Hennessey. I … I just assumed … with your going to Harvard and all …"

"Full scholarship, Mrs. Bartley. I’ve worked since I was twelve years old to buy myself some nice clothes and have a few luxuries, but we’re dirt poor. I’m afraid Townsend is going to be quite surprised at just how poor we are."

She felt her hand being tenderly squeezed. "I don’t care if you live in tents and go dumpster diving for dinner. You’re the best catch in the whole South. You don’t need a dime to enhance your worth."

"Hennessey, you’ve helped my daughter make some changes in the past six months that a legion of psychiatrists, psychologists, medical doctors and acupuncturists haven’t been able to accomplish. Just keeping Townsend out of jail for six months is more than I’d hoped for."

The young woman looked at her friend, her eyes blazing. "Oh, she’s capable of so much more, Mrs. Bartley. I’m already very, very proud of her, but someday she’s going to accomplish things that will make her very proud of herself. That will be the happiest day of my life."

As they neared the airport, Hennessey cleared her throat and gave Miranda the message that she was determined to impart. "I care for your daughter very much, but until we make a commitment to each other, we’re not going to be physically intimate. You don’t have to worry about her, Mrs. Bartley. I’ll treat her with the respect she deserves."

The older woman’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, then opened again, but no words came out.

"We’re courting, Mom," Townsend sniffed. "I’m reclaiming my chastity." She gave Hennessey’s hand a squeeze, then added a wicked smile. "That part is all her idea, by the way. I think chastity is highly overrated."

When they were in the air, Townsend noticed that Hennessey grew more and more quiet the farther they traveled. "You’re nervous, aren’t you."

"Yeah. Li’l bit. I’m worried about what you’ll think of them … and vice versa."

"Tell me how you want me to act," Townsend asked. "I can be any way you want me to be."

"I want you to be yourself – up to a point that is. I just know that my family is very distrustful of outsiders – particularly ones with money. It’s gonna take them a while to warm up to you."

"Who do they think I am – to you, I mean. Do they know I’m madly in love with you?"

"Ahh … no," Hennessey said, shaking her head. "I thought we’d ease into this. On this trip they can get used to the fact that you’re a Yankee and you have money. Next time, we can let them know you’re not Catholic. Then we can spring the fact that you’re a lesbian. Finally, years from now, we can tell them that I’m one, too. Then, after my grandparents are both dead, we can tell my daddy that we’re lesbians together."

"Hennessey, at the rate we’re going, by the time we’re lesbians together everyone in your family will be dead – of old age!"

Since it was a workday, Hennessey’s father wasn’t available to pick them up. After a great deal of negotiation, they agreed on renting a car. They chose the smallest, cheapest model available, but for the two weeks they’d be in South Carolina the total was $150. Hennessey gulped when she saw the figure, but she insisted on paying for it – since Townsend was her guest. "I’ve told you before, baby, guests don’t pay for things when they visit. We Boudreauxs are poor as church mice, but we’ve got enough pride to blanket the county."

"I’m beginning to get that impression," Townsend said, trying to wedge her suitcase into the smallest car ever manufactured.

Shortly after leaving Charleston airport, the city disappeared, replaced with some of the most unspoiled, time-forgotten space that Townsend had ever seen. "This is the low country," Hennessey said, fondly. She rolled her window down part way and demanded, "Fill your lungs with the smells, baby. They’re divine."

Townsend did as she had been directed, but she wasn’t sure about the divine part. The smells were similar to the ones she’d noticed on Hilton Head, but there was something indefinable, and very earthy and primal, about the scents that floated into the window. Shifting in her seat, Townsend took a moment to observe her friend. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look happier. You truly love it here, don’t you?"

"I do," Hennessey said wistfully. "The low Country’s in my bones, Townsend. Boudreauxs have been here since 1755, and even though the welcoming party was a little frosty, it’s our home."

"Why weren’t you welcome? I thought settlers were always welcome back then. Heck, there wasn’t even a United States then, was there?"

"No, there was no United States, per se. Each colony had a government, of course. The South Carolinians didn’t cotton to a bunch of French-speaking rabble-rousers, though. We’d already been expelled from Canada, and many of the colonies were bound and determined to keep us out. It was pretty stupid, really. We would have been a big help in the Revolutionary War, but we were always viewed with suspicion. The folks in South Carolina thought we’d side with the Indians, so they did their best to stick us back on boats and send us packing."

"You’re ancestors were French?"

"Of course, baby. Did you think Boudreaux was Irish or Swedish?"

"I guess I never thought about it."

"We’re Cajuns, baby." Townsend noticed that the farther down the road they traveled, the thicker her friend’s accent got, and the normal twinkle in her eyes had become a low, flickering flame. "You've got yourself a Rajun’ Cajun, sweet pea. Sure you can handle me?"

"I … I … actually, I’m not sure about that," she admitted, feeling that Hennessey’s powerful personality was about to suck all of the oxygen out of the car.

"We’re a rough bunch, Townsend. Spicy food, wild music and wilder women."

"Gulp!"

They drove on in silence, Hennessey giving her friend time to absorb the landscape, the smells and the simple beauty of the low country. They arrived in Beaufort just after 2:00, and Townsend was suitably impressed with the lovely little town. "My God, Hennessey, it looks like something out of Gone with the Wind!"

"Yeah, I suppose it does," she nodded. "At least this part of town does. We’ve got a ways to go, yet." To give her a feel for the place, Hennessey drove along Bay Street, pointing out some of the grandest mansions, then meandered up and down the narrow, magnolia-lined streets in the center of town. "Nice, isn’t it?"

"Very! It reminds me just a little bit of Nantucket, to be honest. Narrow streets, historic, beautifully restored homes, a bustling, seacoast town."

"I’ve never been to Nantucket. Maybe you can take me one day."

"I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Hennessey. How would you like to sneak away with me to our home on Martha’s Vineyard over spring break?"

"We’ll see, sugar pie. First, I have to see how well you behave yourself. I’m not gonna play with you if you can’t keep your hands to yourself. You’re still a minor."

"Hey! I meant to tell you something, smarty-pants. I looked up the age of consent for sex, and it’s fourteen in South Carolina!"

"You’re not a South Carolinian. You’re a Massachusettser, or whatever y’all call yourselves."

"Wrong again. The age of consent is sixteen in Massachusetts."

"Nope. I looked it up, too, and for you it’s eighteen."

"What?"

"It’s illegal to have sex with a woman under eighteen in Massachusetts if she’s a virgin." She gave Townsend a quick glance and said, "You’ve reclaimed your chastity, remember? That makes you a virgin, Townsend. You’ve gotta read the fine print, baby."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde fumed, "You are the most infuriating woman!"

"Same thing I said about you for the first two months I knew you. Turnabout is fair play, honey pie."

It seemed they’d left civilization behind quite some time before, and Townsend was beginning to wonder if the car would make it over the rutted out dirt road. She saw a sign that read, "Boudreaux’s Shrimp Shack", and at her raised eyebrow, Hennessey nodded. "The family business."

"Are we going there or to your home?"

"Just about the same thing, Townsend. I hope you like the smell of shrimp."

They reached a fork in the road, and through the dust Townsend saw another sign for the restaurant with an arrow pointing to the left. But Hennessey turned to the right, and after another one hundred yards she pulled up to a very, very, very modest home.

The place was two stories, but the top floor wasn’t perfectly lined up with the bottom. Trying to think back to her earth sciences class, Townsend wracked her brain, trying to recall if South Carolina experienced earthquakes. The place could have used a coat of paint – thirty years ago – but there were curtains in the windows and the few sparse patches of grass were neatly mowed. Small, well-kept flower beds bracketed the front stairs, and a stately magnolia tree stood right in the middle of the front yard. Looking at the place, Hennessey gave her a crooked smile and said, "Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash."

Townsend cocked her head, but Hennessey waved it off. "Old expression my grandma uses. It about sums us up, though." She got out, and Townsend followed suit. As she did, she was nearly knocked off her feet by the smell of – something. "Fish." Hennessey said, shrugging her shoulders. "By tomorrow you won’t be able to smell it. With any luck," she added.

They each carried their own bags, and when Hennessey opened the door, Townsend asked, "It’s not locked?"

Hennessey kicked it shut with her foot and twitched her head in the direction of the door. "No lock on it," she indicated. "Gramma always says if someone’s poor enough to rob us, they surely must need what we have more than we do."

"Interesting perspective," Townsend nodded. She looked around the simple space, trying not to be too obvious. A well-worn sofa, a recliner covered with some form of man-made material with a poor patch job on the seat, a small table on each end of the sofa, and a pair of mismatched lamps. That was it – not another hint of decoration or adornment in the room.

"Remind you of your home?" Hennessey asked, her voice a little tight.

"Hey, knock it off." Townsend stood in front of her friend and gazed into her shifting eyes. "Don’t you dare be ashamed of where you come from. Believe me, Hennessey, if my family had started out from the same place yours had, we’d have starved to death. There’s no honor in having money – especially when you’ve been given most of it."

The taller woman sat down on the sofa, plucking at the threadbare arm. "I’ve never been away from home for this long," she said softly. "I think I forgot … how little we have. I walk around Cambridge and I see the row houses selling for two million dollars, and the baby stores with $300 dresses for infants, and I … forget."

"Look, pal," Townsend said, sitting next to her and trying to not flinch when a spring pinched her ass. "You were born to teenagers – drunken teenagers, I might add. Through nothing but hard work and perseverance, you’ve managed to attend the most prestigious school in the country. I, on the other hand, was born into old money – then had my mother have the great good luck of making millions off pretty poorly written books – just because she appeals to the romantic notions of housewives at the checkout counter of the grocery store. And yet, with all of this wealth and privilege, I’ve just barely gotten accepted to one of the worst four year colleges in the Boston area – and I found out that was only because my father promised a sizeable gift to upgrade the sports facilities. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hennessey. I do."

"I’m sorry," Hennessey whispered. "I don’t normally feel sorry for myself. It’s just a lot to take in after the ivy-covered walls of Harvard."

Townsend cuddled up next to her and said, "I always feel better when I get a hug. How about you."

"Yeah, I guess I do, too." They held each other for a long time, both of them soaking up the affection with equal greed. "I’m about to fall out from hunger," the brunette murmured. "Wanna go meet the family?"

"Sure. Will they be at the restaurant?"

"Shack, honey. It’s called a shack for a reason."

They set off down the dirt road, the smell getting stronger as they drew near. "Uhm … I don’t want to ask you to lie, but if Gramma asks, I’m gonna say you’re a friend from Boston. If she knows how we met, she’ll be madder than a hornet, and you don’t want that, babe."

"I don’t mind lying, Hennessey, but why would she be mad?"

"She doesn’t think I should associate with the girls who can afford to attend the Academy. She dislikes rich Southern girls much more than rich Northern girls. I guarantee she’ll be much friendlier if she thinks we’re classmates."

"Well, I’ve always wanted to go to Harvard. Now’s my chance."

They walked to the rickety-looking building sitting alongside an equally haphazard looking dock. "Here we are, sweet pea. I hope you don’t have a shellfish allergy." Hennessey threw open the screen door and yelled into the empty restaurant, "The baby girl’s back from the big city!"

"Hennessey, you get in here, you scalawag!"

Grinning widely, Hennessey led Townsend into the kitchen, a small space reeking of grease and fish. "Gramma!" she called out, and dashed the few feet to wrap the older woman in a bear hug. When she stepped back, Townsend watched with delight as Hennessey’s grandmother went over her body like she’d just been in an accident and was checking for damage. Reddened, rough hands trailed down her arms, tickled her waist, and slid down her legs, finally landing on her butt. "Sit down and eat something, child! You’re skin and bones."

Ignoring the teasing, Hennessey said, "Gramma, I want you to meet my friend, Townsend Bartley."

"Pleased to meet you," the older woman said, a decided note of formality coloring her voice. "Welcome to South Carolina, Townsend. Have you been here before?"

"Oh, just on vacation. I’m from Boston, and don’t have much chance to come down the coast."

"Well, I hope you enjoy your visit." She grabbed a bowl and filled it with a rich looking fish stew. "You need to put on a little weight, too, Townsend. Go sit down and start to work on this. I’ll send Hennessey out with something more substantial in a minute."

Realizing she was being dismissed, Townsend gave the older woman a warm smile and did as she was told. As soon as they were alone, Hennessey looked around and noted a decided lack of fish in the kitchen. At this time of the day her grandfather was usually furiously peeling shrimp for the dinner crowd, but he was nowhere in sight, and his truck was missing, also. "Daddy didn’t have a good day?"

"Didn’t come home last night," her grandmother said, shaking her head. "Your granddaddy just went out to try to buy more fish. We had a hellacious crowd at lunch."

"Can I help, Gramma?"

"No, honey, you just go sit with your friend. There’s nothing to do here until your granddaddy gets back. I just hope he doesn’t have to go to the grocery store. At those prices we might as well shut down for the night."

"I’m sorry about Daddy, Gramma," Hennessey said quietly.

"I’m the one responsible for the boy," the older woman said. "It’s not your fault he can’t pass a bar without drinkin’ it dry."

"I know, Gramma, but I’m still sorry." The older woman hugged her again, and Hennessey smelled the reassuring scents of grease, shrimp, spices and sweat that had permeated her skin and clothes. "Let me grab a bowl of soup, before I faint." She ladled a healthy portion for herself and went out to sit next to Townsend at a white-painted picnic table.

"This is the best damned seafood chowder I’ve ever tasted, and believe me, I’ve tasted a lot of it."

"Thanks. Tell Gramma. She won’t accept a compliment to save her life, but she remembers every person who doesn’t give her one." Taking a big bite, Hennessey sighed with pleasure. "Damn, she’s a fine cook. I sure as heck can’t find a decent seafood chowder in Boston – and I’ve looked."

"It’s the spices," Townsend decided. "This has much more gusto than anything I get at home."

"Yeah, I guess that’s it. I’ve got to load up while we’re down here. This has to last me until summer."

They were still eating when a tall, thin, rugged, weathered man entered through front door. "Granddaddy!" Hennessey jumped up and ran to him, hugging him with one arm while she removed some of his bags with her other. "How was the catch?"

"Just fine, Baby Girl. Thibodaux’s still had some shrimp, and they had enough frozen crab to last us for tomorrow. Saved me trawling all over the damned ocean. Now all I’ve got to do is clean ‘em."

"No way, Granddaddy. I’m gonna teach my friend how to clean shrimp. I guess we’d best start right now."

He gave her a smile that melted Townsend’s heart, so reminiscent was it of Hennessey’s. She got up and approached the man. "Hi, I’m Townsend."

"Hey, there, Townsend. Welcome to the shack. Glad to have ya."

"Thanks Mr. Boudreaux. I’m glad to be here."

"You girls are dressed awful nice to be cleanin’ shrimp. You’d best go change."

"Be right back," Hennessey called out, already dashing out the door, Townsend hot on her heels.

Townsend hadn’t brought her shrimp cleaning clothes, so they ran up to Hennessey’s room to find suitable attire. The room was extremely orderly, with Hennessey’s few personal articles placed just so on her white painted dresser. Her bed was small – so small that Townsend wondered how it contained her long body. "You’re not cold, are you, Townsend?"

"No, it’s lovely here," she said. "It must be seventy degrees. Why?"

"I think my shorts will fit you best, but I can find something else if you’re cold."

"No, that’s fine." She waited while Hennessey opened a drawer, revealing at least ten pairs of shorts – each pair one of the chalk colored ones from the Academy.

"I think I still have the ones I got when I was a freshman in high school," Hennessey said, reaching into the bottom of the drawer. "Yeah, here they are." She handed them over, then went to another drawer and pulled out a T-shirt extolling Habitat for Humanity. "This one’s old, too, so it shouldn’t be too huge on you."

"Did you work on one of these projects?"

"Uh-huh. There was a project way out in the sticks when I was a sophomore in high school. Damn, the people out there were poor!"

Townsend tried to hide the look that was trying to jump onto her face. How much poorer could you be than this? That thought was followed closely by, This isn’t the sticks?

After an hour of instruction, Townsend felt capable of shelling shrimp with her eyes closed. She also firmly believed that she’d smell like shrimp for the rest of her life, and might possibly never eat another one. But Hennessey was in her element, talking more than Townsend had ever heard, sitting on the edge of the dock, chattering about nothing at all. She would occasionally launch into a short song, usually about fishing or drinking, her voice surprisingly melodic.

"You’ve been holding out on me, Hennessey. I had no idea you had such a beautiful voice."

"Oh." She looked a little embarrassed, then said, "I only sing when I’m really happy. I didn’t even realize I was doing it."

"Well, you were, and you can sing for me anytime, baby. Did you sing in school, or at church?"

"Huh-uh. Just for myself. It’s too personal to do on command."

"I’ll never command you, Hennessey, and if you ever sing for me I’ll just enjoy it."

"Deal," she said, grinning toothily.

Townsend didn’t have to test her newly-acquired fear of shrimp. Hennessey had a taste for a crab sandwich, so her grandmother defrosted just enough crab for the two of them. The young women sat on stools in the kitchen and watched as Mrs. Boudreaux chopped the crab into tiny bits, then mixed it with seasoned breadcrumbs, red peppers and plenty of garlic. Just before she formed it into patties, she added just a sprinkle of a black powder. At Townsend’s raised eyebrow, Hennessey said, "Cajun spices. Even I don’t have any idea what’s in it." Mrs. Boudreaux tossed the crab patties in the deep fat fryer, and in a few moments they were ready. Hennessey scooped them out and put them on the freshly toasted, chewy buns, slathered with spicy tarter sauce. "Good Lord, this is the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten," Townsend said, her mouth nearly full. "I could live on that chowder and this."

"Oh, that’s nothin’," Mrs. Boudreaux scoffed. "I can cook something that’d curl your toes, girl, but I don’t have time for that kinda thing anymore."

"I think my toes are curling," Townsend insisted. "Really."

A tiny grin twitched at the older woman’s lips. "You two just eat your supper. I’ve got work to do; I can’t stand around here gabbing all night."

Mrs. Boudreaux steadfastly refused Hennessey’s offer to stay at the restaurant and help with the dinner crowd. "We run this place every other week of the year, child, what makes you think we need you now?"

"Okay, Gramma," Hennessey said, kissing her cheek. "We’ll go into town and see what trouble we can get into."

"Have fun, now," she said, "but not too much."

Once they got back to the house, Hennessey said, "You know what? I don’t really feel like doing much. Uhm … I looked up a few things on the Internet before we came and found there was an AA meeting at 7:00 not too far from here. Wanna go?"

"Uhm … yeah. I thought I could go without for a few days, but my sponsor says that’s the first step off the mountain. Let’s do it. There’ll be plenty of time to do all there is to do around here."

"Honey, we could do all there is to do in a long weekend. I’m not here for excitement. I’m here to be myself."

"And I’m here to learn more about your sweet self – so I’d say we’re in synch."

Hennessey showed Townsend how to wash her hands while holding a stainless steel spoon, helping to remove the worst of the shrimp odor from her skin. Once they were cleaned up they took off, and when they reached the church auditorium Hennessey sat quietly next to Townsend, beaming with pride at the self-assured young woman who told her story with such easy grace. Townsend was the youngest person in the room by at least twenty years, and she probably had more money on her than the other twenty people combined, but she fit in, in a way that frankly amazed Hennessey. Several people wanted to chat with Townsend after the meeting, and Hennessey grabbed a chair and just watched her. The blonde was unfailingly polite, even to the men who looked like they just wanted some attention from a pretty young woman. Finally, the church hall was cleared and Townsend winked at her companion. "Did ya have fun, baby girl?"

Hennessey stood and gazed at her for so long that Townsend grew a little uncomfortable under her stare. "Ya know, I really did. Seeing the woman you’ve become in just a few short months just takes my breath away, Townsend."

"Enough to sleep with me tonight?"

"One track mind," Hennessey said, grinning. "Some day, it’s gonna be put up or shut up time, big talker."

"Baby, this is the longest I’ve gone without sex since I was fourteen. You’d better believe I can put up … out … any old way you wanna do it."

"Well, I haven’t had sex since I was born. So I’ll either be spectacularly good, or spectacularly bad at it."

"I have my suspicions," Townsend drawled, in a reasonably good imitation of Hennessey’s accent. "I think you’re gonna be my Rajun Cajun."

When they arrived back home it was nearly nine. "I’m gonna go help clean up," Hennessey decided. "They’ll get home earlier that way."

"Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we both do it? They can sit down and talk to us – like we did while your grandma cooked."

Hennessey stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend. "You’d really do that?"

"Of course! Your grandparents have been working all day. Jeez, Hennessey, how old are they?"

"Uhm … they’re really not all that old. Grandma’s only fifty-five, and Granddaddy will be fifty-nine in January. They’re just tired," she said. "I … I have a dream, Townsend. I dream about making enough money so that they can retire and enjoy life a little bit. My granddaddy served in Viet Nam, and since he got home, he hasn’t left the county. I don’t think my grandma has ever been outside of South Carolina. All they do is work."

"Hennessey, if that’s your dream, then I know you’ll make it happen. And I’ll help you in any way I can."

Later that night, after another round of trying to remove the smell of seafood from her body, Townsend emerged from the bathroom to find Hennessey putting her mattress onto the floor. "What’s going on here, chief?"

"You’re the guest, so you get to choose. Either the mattress on the floor, or the box spring. Try ‘em both."

"Let’s trade off. I’ll take the floor tonight, then tomorrow you can have it."

"A logical solution. Good job!" Hennessey pulled a blanket over herself, and fluffed her pillow. "You know what I’m gonna do when I start to make a little money?"

"No, what?"

"I’m gonna buy myself a damned bed that’s long enough for my body. My feet have been hanging off the end of this thing since I was fourteen!"

"It’s almost too short for me," Townsend chuckled. "I have a fantastic bed on the Vineyard. Maybe you’ll get to see it … or sleep in it sometime. Like … oh, I don’t know … spring break?"

"You’ve got two weeks worth of good behavior to get through before we discuss that again, pal. Let’s see how things go. I’ve obviously got to be in charge of my virtue as well as yours."

"How about a tiny, itsy, bitsy goodnight kiss? You gave your grandma and granddaddy one."

"We’re kin," Hennessey said. "But seeing the smile on Grandma’s face when we cleaned the whole kitchen is worth a lot to me, so I’ll give you a teeny, tiny kiss." She leaned over and placed a quick kiss on the top of Townsend’s head. "Thanks for everything. This has been one of the nicest days I’ve had in months."

"Me, too," Townsend smiled. "And I can hardly smell the fish anymore. You were right, as usual."

Part 4

Hennessey’s grandparents insisted that the girls go off and do something fun, so the brunette decided she wanted to take Townsend to her favorite place in Beaufort County. The day was a little cooler than the previous one had been, and they dressed in turtlenecks and sweaters, along with jeans. They stopped at a local diner and had a fantastic breakfast, with Townsend wondering why any of the locals were thin. "Is everything fried down here?" she asked, watching Hennessey eat fried cornmeal mush drenched in maple syrup.

"Unh-uh. Some things are made up entirely of sugar, and we don’t usually fry that – although there are exceptions."

"I’m gonna gain ten pounds in two weeks, Hennessey."

"You might," she agreed. "But you’ll enjoy every minute of it."

They drove to the ACE Wildlife Preserve, with Hennessey going on and on about how the land came to be set aside, and how many acres it covered. She was a font of knowledge on the subject, and by the time they reached the land, Townsend felt like she could teach a course on it, as well.

They got out of the car and walked for a long while, hands loosely linked, neither speaking. "This is what the low country was like just one hundred fifty years ago," Hennessey said. "Hardwoods, pine forests, swampland – just pure natural beauty as far as the eye could see. All sorts of wildlife – alligators, herons, bald eagles … you name it. But once it was discovered that Sea Island cotton grew well here, hundreds of thousands of acres were cleared to plant the crop. The cotton crop made a lot of landowners very, very wealthy – it helped to build a lot of the mansions we saw down on Bay Street. But when the market went bust, all we were left with was a screwed up ecosystem and a lot of cleared land. Damn, some of those trees were hundreds of years old – gone like that!" She snapped her fingers, while shaking her head.

"Conservation means a lot to you, doesn’t it?" Townsend asked.

"Yeah, it does, but like most things in the South, I have decidedly mixed feelings about it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning my family makes their living by fishing, and has done so for well over a hundred years. Fishermen fight tooth and nail to escape prohibitions and conservation measures, even though without conservation these waters will be fished out within a generation." She shook her head sadly. "Like the big fight that’s gone on for years about the sea turtle. Shrimpers are the biggest culprits, Townsend. I’m sure my father and grandfather have personally been responsible for unintentionally killing hundreds, maybe thousands of sea turtles by catching them in the shrimp nets. They’re on the verge of extinction in some areas, and there’s a simple gadget, called a turtle extruder device that’s pretty effective at keeping them out of the nets. But the shrimp industry has been fighting on every front to avoid using them. On one hand it makes me crazy, but on the other hand, my family depends on shrimp to stay alive. I think it’s fairly obvious that we’re small time, and the margin we operate on is razor thin. Reducing our catch just ten percent could put my grandparents on welfare." She laughed bitterly and added, "Knowing my grandparents, they’d starve before they’d go on government assistance, and I mean that literally."

Townsend had nothing to say to her friend’s emotion-filled tirade. She just clenched her hand a little tighter, and walked with her – trying to see Hennessey’s beloved homeland through her eyes.

They walked for almost two hours without a word being exchanged. "This reminds me of the walks I used to go on with my granddaddy. We hardly ever said a word, but just holding his big, rough hand was reassuring to me in a way I can’t explain."

"Hey, I’ve only been here one day. My hands can’t be that rough, yet."

"No, your hands aren’t rough, baby. They’re about the softest things I’ve ever felt in my life."

Snaking an arm around Hennessey’s waist, the blonde teased, "I’ve got a few softer spots. One day you’ll get to feel them."

"One day," Hennessey said. "That’s the key."

On the way back home, Hennessey grew quiet, not talking for quite a few minutes. This was not the same easy silence they had shared on the walk; Hennessey was obviously troubled. "What’s going on in that pretty head?" Townsend asked her.

"Mmm … I was thinking that I should go visit my mother. I mean, it is Christmas and all."

"That’s okay, baby. You do what you have to do." Reaching over to pat her leg, she said, "I’d be happy to go with you – but only if you want me to."

"Would you really? It’s never pleasant, Townsend. She usually winds up screaming at me or crying, and I always end up in tears."

"I’m very good at drying tears," Townsend assured her. "At least, I think I am. Wanna try me out?"

Hennessey gave her a half-smile, and nodded. "Let’s give it a whirl."

They headed out to the "bad side of town" as Hennessey put it, and Townsend wasn’t able to dispute her claim. Hennessey’s family was poor but proud, but these people had lost even their pride – probably generations before. The level of poverty was shocking to Townsend, who thought she’d seen poverty in the rough parts of Boston. But this was a whole new animal for her. And when this sort of back-breaking poverty was so close to the playgrounds of the very, very wealthy, it just made it all the more poignant.

They passed a grocery store that looked like it was gonna be the last one they saw for a while, so Townsend made a suggestion. "Why don’t we stop and buy your mom some food, honey? You say she always asks for money – why not beat her to the punch with a gift?"

Hennessey nodded. "That’s a good idea, sweet pea. I think I’ve got about $15 on me. That’ll buy her a decent meal."

Once inside the store, Hennessey shopped carefully, trying to make her funds last. "Is there anything special we could get her? Kinda like a present?" Townsend asked.

"Well, I hate to contribute to her demise, but she does love to smoke. I could probably buy her some cigarettes." She shrugged. "If I bought her anything decent, she’d return it and buy liquor. At least she loves cigarettes as much as booze."

"Let me buy her some, baby. Just as a little Christmas present from her future daughter-in-law."

"You know, I don’t think I go more than five minutes at a time without smiling when I’m with you. You’re very good for me, Townsend. Very good, indeed."

Townsend was more persuasive than she knew, and Hennessey allowed her to buy, not only two cartons of cigarettes, but a canned ham, some cans of tuna, peanut butter, jelly and a few boxes of crackers. At the checkout counter, Hennessey asked, "If I decide I don’t want some of these things, can I bring them back?"

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" the clerk asked.

"I don’t know. I just might not be in the mood for ham later on."

"No, honey, you can’t return food unless there’s something wrong with it – and we check."

"Fine." Hennessey gave her a warm smile. "That’s just fine."

Townsend had added a roll of wrapping paper and a roll of tape, and they spent a few minutes wrapping the cigarettes on the trunk of the car. The blonde then produced a card that Hennessey hadn’t seen her buy. It was a syrupy, sappy card that sang the praises of motherhood, and when Hennessey’s eyes widened, Townsend said quietly, "Even though she’ll know it’s not true, it might make her feel better to think that there’s a chance you feel this way about her."

Wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, Hennessey signed the card with the gold-toned pen that Townsend supplied. "Keep your eyes on your wallet, and that pen," she advised, her mouth set in a grim line. "She’s tried to take my wallet from my pocket while she’s hugging me."

They got in the car and drove the rest of the way in silence, Townsend unable to think of a comforting rejoinder to Hennessey’s comment.

"Well, here we are. The great trailer burial ground." With wide eyes, Townsend looked around. Most of the trailers looked like they’d been damaged in some way, or had been discarded by their previous owners. It wasn’t exactly a trailer park – more like an eclectic assemblage of the battered homes without much rhyme or reason.

"Do they have electricity?" Townsend asked.

"Yeah. They have hook-ups – when they pay the bill. Half the time my mamma’s place is in the dark. Thank God there’s a portable toilet over at the edge of the lot. Knowing her, she’d go right in the middle of the rug when the water was turned off."

"Damn, we should have bought her some bottled water!"

Turning off the car, Hennessey sat quietly for a few moments, then leaned over and kissed Townsend’s forehead tenderly. She wrapped her in a hug and held on tight for a surprisingly long time. "I never thought anyone would understand," she whispered. "I’ve always worried that the guy I fell for would run for the hills when he met my family. And here you, one of the wealthiest people I’ve ever met, not only understand – you want to make her life better. Thank you, Townsend. Thank you so much."

"I do understand," the blonde murmured. "I also understand that I could have ended up in her shoes if a certain blue-eyed girl hadn’t helped me climb out of the hole I was in. You understood me," she said. "No one ever had."

Hennessey released her, then got out of the car, carrying the majority of the bags. As she trotted alongside, Townsend asked, "Should we keep our story straight, that we’re friends from Harvard?"

"Doesn’t matter. She won’t even remember we were here."

Much to her surprise, when Hennessey knocked on the door, her mother answered almost immediately, and upon quick inspection, appeared to be sober. "Hi, Mamma," she said, giving her a tight smile. "Just came by to wish you a merry Christmas."

"Hennessey! Get your self in here, girl!" They entered the ramshackle trailer, and Townsend now understood what the term "dirt poor" meant. The place was ghastly, and smelled absolutely awful, but Hennessey’s mother was fully dressed and sober, so she counted her blessings.

"Mamma, this is my very good friend, Townsend. Townsend, this is my mother, Maribelle Pikes."

"Pleased to meet you," the woman said. Townsend parroted a reply, too taken aback by the woman’s appearance to say more. If Maribelle had been placed in a lineup with an African American, a Japanese, and an Inuit; and Townsend was charged with picking out Hennessey’s mother, Maribelle would have been her last choice – even if the others were men. There was not one hint, not one iota of resemblance between the women, and Townsend wondered if Hennessey could have been switched at birth. Maribelle was no more than five foot six, and as Hennessey had warned, she was dangerously underweight. Her hair was an odd, lackluster mousy brown, curly in spots, and wavy in others, and downright sparse in various places. Her eyes were close in color to her hair, and were as flat and lifeless as a doll’s. With skin that looked as though it hadn’t been exposed to the sun in years, blue veins were luridly visible, making Townsend a little sick to her stomach. But when Maribelle showed her teeth, the young woman almost lost it. Crooked, yellowed, a few noticeably missing, Maribelle had the look of a woman who’d lived on the streets – although with her pale skin, she must have only come out at night.

"We brought you a few things for the holidays, Mamma. I know times are a little tight right now."

"Oh, my, they surely are," she agreed, her accent much stronger than Hennessey’s. "I was just down at the county office this morning – just got back not a lick before you showed up. I told that man I needed an increase, but they don’t listen. They never listen, you know."

"I’m sure they don’t, Mamma. Well, I know you like to have a little food in the house, so we bought you some things that’ll last for a bit. Is your power on?" She looked pointedly at a lit candle, which provided the only illumination in the dim trailer.

"Why, of course it is, honey. Why wouldn’t it be?"

"Oh, you never know. Anyway, I bought you a turkey and some potatoes. Since tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, I thought you might like to make a nice dinner for you and …" She pursed her lips, trying to think of the latest man her mother had mentioned.

"Kenneth, honey. Well, that’s very, very nice of you. I’m sure Kenneth would love a good meal." She went to the bags and started to paw through them. "Now, if I just had a little holiday cheer, you know, maybe some eggnog …"

"I’m sorry, Mamma," Hennessey said, actually sounding as though she were. "I didn’t have enough money for anything extra." She extended the wrapped package and the card, and said, "But we did buy you a present. It’s not much, but …"

The paper was off the package before Hennessey could complete her sentence. "Boy, do I need these," Maribelle said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Thanks for thinking of your Mamma, baby." Townsend noticed that the woman didn’t even give a thought to opening the card, and she tried to avoid looking into Hennessey’s eyes, unwilling to see the hurt that she knew would be there.

"Well, I guess we’ll be off, Mamma. We’re gonna go help with dinner at the shack."

"You can stay and visit for a while if you want," she said, the invitation decidedly unenthusiastic.

"No, I know you’re busy. I’ll let ya go."

"You stop in and say hello again, all right? I hardly see you at all anymore. Where you been keeping yourself?"

"I’m away at college, Mamma," she said softly, and Townsend made the critical error of meeting her friend’s eyes. She nearly burst into tears, but she knew she had to be strong for Hennessey, so she held them in.

"Oh, that’s right. Where do you go again, baby?"

"Boston," she said, not wasting the breath to explain exactly where Harvard was.

"That’s right. You go to Boston." She started to walk them to the door, cocking her head to ask, "How do you pay for a plane ticket all the way to Boston, baby?"

Unable to witness another moment of this torture, Townsend twitched her head in the direction of the car and walked down the gravel path, trying to give her friend some privacy. She turned and watched the scene, seeing Hennessey’s hands go to her back pockets as she rocked on her heels, a nervous habit. The dark head shook, softly at first, then more vigorously. Finally, she tossed a hand in the air in a poor attempt at a wave, and stalked away. Maribelle started to come after her, but when Hennessey heard her, she wheeled around and shouted, "Don’t you dare ask her for money! Don’t you dare!" She turned and started to jog, grabbing Townsend’s hand as she flew by. They ran until they reached the car, then Hennessey jumped in and peeled out so quickly that Townsend almost didn’t get her leg in. As soon as they reached the dirt road that led to the place, Hennessey turned off the car and leaned against the steering wheel, crying so piteously that Townsend was unable to hold her own emotions in any longer. Eventually, they came together and held each other, their tears dropping onto each other’s shoulders.

As they made their way back to the house, Townsend said, "We may as well get all of the upsetting topics out at once. I noticed your father didn’t come home last night again. Is that something you’re worried about, too, baby?"

"No, not really. He’s a pretty good-looking guy. It’s not uncommon for him to pick up a woman and shack up with her for a few days. Eventually, she’ll get sick of his act and throw him out. I can’t imagine he’s not impotent," she said, with no emotion in her voice. "I’m not an authority or anything, but I’d think that most women that picked up a good-looking, fairly charming man would be disappointed when he couldn’t perform."

"Do you think of him as your father?" Townsend asked. "I don’t mean that like it sounds, baby," she added when Hennessey gave her a stunned look. "I just wondered if he seemed more like an uncle or a much older brother."

"Oh. Well, I guess in a way that’s what he seems like. It was always like my grandparents had two kids – only I needed less watching over."

"He does know you’re coming home, doesn’t he?"

"Oh, sure. He’s still got a pretty good memory. He’s not nearly as bad as my mother is. He’s always been more of a binge kinda guy. He could be perfectly fine for months at a time, but something would set him off. My guess is that my coming home did the trick this time."

"But why …?"

"He’s a pretty smart guy, Townsend, he had a lot of promise in school. Gramma says there was talk of him getting a scholarship to U.S.C. But he knocked up my mother, and around here you do the right thing and marry the girl. That destroyed any chance he had at a better life. He started working with Granddaddy, and that’s all she wrote. He didn’t love my mother – hell, I don’t think he even liked her. She wasn’t even his girlfriend to hear Gramma talk. But you know how guys are – they hear about a loose girl and they all want a pop at her."

"I know; I was that girl," the blonde said quietly, making Hennessey want to bite her tongue for saying such an insensitive thing.

"I’m sorry, sweet pea. I know you’ve made some of the same mistakes my mamma did. I just thank God that you stopped when you did."

"I do, too, Hennessey, believe me, I do, too."

They were once again forbidden from helping with the dinner crowd, so they sat in the restaurant, hanging out at a table in the rear, just watching the other customers and chatting when something struck one of them.

"We just have time to make the meeting, honey. Ready to go?"

"I think I had a meeting already today, Hennessey. Seeing your mother strengthened my resolve to stay sober more than a dozen meetings."

"All right. I’m a little sick of seeing the effects of alcohol myself."

When there was a lull in the crowd, Hennessey went into the kitchen and came out with a big platter of fried shrimp and hush puppies, watching with delight while Townsend once more sang the praises of Chez Boudreaux.

Around 8:30, a very tall, ruggedly handsome, black-haired man came shuffling into the restaurant. "Hennessey, your father’s here," Townsend said quietly.

The young woman turned around and got up, going over to offer a tentative hug. The man returned it awkwardly, then walked over to meet Townsend. "Daddy, this is my good friend, Townsend. Townsend, this is my father, Dawayne."

Townsend stood and extended her hand, shaking the large, rough, callused one that Dawayne offered. "It’s nice to meet you."

"Same here," he said, smiling gently. He actually looked a little sheepish and more than a little shy, and Townsend could see why women would be drawn to him. He had retained his good looks, his constant exposure to sun making him look tan and healthy, even if he wasn’t. "Mamma and Daddy in the kitchen?"

"Sure are."

"Gonna see if I can scare up some supper. I’ll be right back."

He left, with Townsend looking after him as he walked. "Gosh, you look just like him, honey."

"Yeah. I guess I do. When I was little, I used to hear about some child or another being born and no one knowing who the daddy was. I used to dream that no one knew who my mother was – that I belonged to just my daddy."

"So, he’s been pretty consistent with you?"

"No, nothing like that. He’s completely unreliable. But when he was home he was always pleasant and quiet. He acted like he knew he should be a better father – he at least has some remorse."

"He doesn’t drink at home?"

"No, no, no! There isn’t a drop of alcohol in the house. Never was, never will be. My granddaddy had a habit when he came home from the war, and my grandma put a stop to that immediately. They say you can’t force someone to stop drinking, but Gramma did. I don’t know how she did it, but he hasn’t had a drop since … oh … 1970 or so."

"I guess there’s an exception to every rule," Townsend said, smiling.

"That’s Gramma. She’s an exception to a lot of rules."

After the kitchen was cleaned, both women were wrung out. When Hennessey came out of the bathroom, Townsend was lying on the box spring, just as they had agreed.

When Hennessey was settled, the blonde turned to her and asked, "You know, in all this time I’ve never asked you who you were named for. Is Hennessey a family name?"

"Not hardly."

"Uhm … wanna tell me?"

"Yeah … I guess. Uhm … my mother had rather romantic notions when she was a girl. She’d been trying to think of a name for me while she was pregnant, and she wanted it to be something classy. She wasn’t having much success, and my daddy was no help at all. So, on the day she gave birth, they were traveling down some country road on the way to the county hospital – where they could have me for free." She gave Townsend a tight smile and continued. "They came upon a billboard for Hennessey brandy … Heck, I think it’s still standing, whoever owns it obviously forgot about it. Anyway, it was a picture of a man and woman, toasting each other with brandy snifters. The man had on a tuxedo, and the woman was in an evening gown, with her hair all done up. Apparently, my mamma thought that was about the classiest thing she’d ever seen. Daddy didn’t have any objection, so Hennessey it was – whether I was a girl or a boy."

The story was vaguely humorous, but it was also so deeply poignant that Townsend felt incredibly sad. Sad for the young woman who dreamed of a life far beyond her station; sad for the baby named after the substance which would destroy her relationship with her mother; and sad for the shame she could hear in Hennessey’s voice.

"You know what?" Townsend asked, softly. "I’m feeling a little raw. Could I impose on you for a friendly, definitely non-sexual hug?"

"How about a cuddle?" Hennessey climbed onto the box spring and folded her long body up behind her friend. Both women sighed as their bodies molded together, and after a long while Hennessey heard herself say, "Did I promise this was a non-sexual cuddle, or did you?"

"That was me," Townsend giggled. "You’re free to do as you please, sweetness."

"I’d like to kiss the back of your neck, then get onto that mattress before my hormones change my mind for me." She lifted Townsend’s pale hair and tenderly brushed her lips against the soft, smooth skin. "Delicious." Climbing off, Hennessey lay quietly for a moment then said, "Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"At camp, when I pulled that spider from your hair, I found myself having the fleeting thought that I’d like to kiss your neck. I pulled your hair away, and your neck looked so tasty and sweet … That was the first time I’d ever felt that way. It scared me."

"I still remember how cool and gentle your hands were. I should have been frightened to have a big spider crawling on me, but once you touched me I knew I was safe."

"Can you sleep on your tummy?"

"Huh?"

"If you can sleep on your tummy, you could dangle an arm down, and we could hold hands while we sleep. Does that sound like a good idea?"

Townsend rolled over onto her belly and dropped her arm, smiling when Hennessey grasped it and then placed a gentle kiss on her pulse point. She held the warm hand in both of her own, and murmured, "I feel safe when I hold your hand. Safe, and warm and secure. Like nothing can hurt me."

Hennessey had big plans for Christmas Eve. She was bustling around the house by the time Townsend came downstairs, and the blonde cocked her head and asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

"We most certainly are!" A pile of gear was blocking the front door, and Townsend looked from it to her friend. "We’re going to the beach to have a big-ass picnic. You’re gonna love it."

"Well, I’m sure I will. What should I bring?"

"Warm clothes and a hearty appetite," the brunette said, grinning.

After stopping at the local seafood purveyor – since Hennessey was loath to dig into her family’s meager catch, they drove to a completely deserted beach on one of the islands that made up Beaufort County. Sitting on the blanket that Hennessey had brought, Townsend watched, laughing, as her friend tried to fight the brisk wind and keep a rather poor quality box kite up in the air. The kite was made of paper, and after struggling for nearly a half hour, the exhausted woman ran back to the blanket and collapsed. "Damn, that was hard work! No wonder you don’t see many people with kites."

"You did very well for yourself," Townsend assured her. "You can give it another try if the wind dies down."

"Don’t think that’s gonna happen," Hennessey said, surveying the sky. "Actually, I’m a little chilly. How about a fire?"

"Oh, don’t look to me for help. I was a Campfire Girl drop out."

"Didn’t like the uniform?"

"No, it wasn’t that. Too much structure," she said, wrinkling up her nose.

"Couldn’t follow orders even as a little girl, huh?"

"Nope. I’m positively docile now compared to how I was then. I’ve always been a trouble-maker."

"That’s part of your appeal," Hennessey told her honestly. "That’s what gives you the fire in your personality. I hope you never lose that."

"Much to my surprise, being sober hasn’t changed my personality. It’s let it emerge. That’s been a nice thing to discover."

"I couldn’t agree more, Townsend. When we first met, you were so angry that I only saw tiny little snippets of your personality. I feel like I’ve just started to know you since you’ve been sober."

"I’ve just started to know myself," she agreed. "Now, show me how to start a fire, hot stuff. It’s never too late to be a Campfire Girl."

They didn’t do much during their time on the beach, but neither woman minded. Mostly they talked, and watched the surf, and talked some more. Hennessey was being very affectionate, and was now leaning against a huge piece of wood she’d managed to find. Getting settled, she pulled Townsend against her, letting the smaller woman nestle between her long legs. "Comfortable?" she asked, her lips close to her friend’s ear.

"Deliciously."

"Warm enough?"

"I am now. A nice, big fire, a nice, big girlfriend. What more could a woman want?"

"I think I’ll order up the nice big fire with a slightly smaller girlfriend. I like having you fit against me like this."

"Agreed. Let’s stay just like we are – right here – forever."

"Oh, no, baby, we can’t miss a meal!" She pulled the cooler over and took out a big plastic bag filled with oysters and clams. "How about a little lunch?"

"Mmm … I love oysters. Are they local?"

"Not very, but they’re delicious. Wanna shuck?" She said this with a decidedly sexy voice, her breath warm against Townsend’s chilled ear.

"I’m not even gonna nibble on that one, Hennessey. You’re just trying to incite me, now."

"I’ll shuck myself, then," the larger woman teased. She had to scoot back a little to operate, but Townsend praised her efforts, adding a bit of the tangy cocktail sauce to each of the mollusks as she held the shell to her lips and let the meat slide down her throat.

"Damn, these are fine! So far I haven’t found one thing about South Carolina that I don’t like," the blonde decided.

"Let’s hear you say that if we come in the summer. We don’t have screens on the house," warned Hennessey. "The mosquitoes feel like they’re gonna pick you up and carry you out the window."

"Honey, I can take care of myself. I might have to sleep in mosquito netting, but I can manage. If you’re in the immediate vicinity, all of my needs will be met."

They’d been cuddling for hours, neither woman willing to move – the gentle hugging so reassuring to both of them. "I’ve been thinking about something you said yesterday," Hennessey said. "You don’t have to talk about this if it upsets you, but I wondered about the comment you made about being the girl that the boys all wanted to … date."

"Fuck, honey. They didn’t want to date me. Why waste ten bucks on a movie ticket and popcorn if you don’t have to?"

"I uhm … I don’t even pretend to know much about this … but why were you sleeping with boys? I got the impression you’ve always thought you were gay."

"I don’t know what I was. I guess I was just lonely. I was left alone a lot with just an employee to watch me. And when I was a freshman in high school, I started to mature – physically, at least. The boys in school started to show some interest in me – something that had never happened before. Just the year before I’d looked like a little kid – but now they were treating me like a woman. I didn’t have good boundaries; I guess I never have. I uhm … had sex with the first boy who asked. I didn’t care for it at all, Hennessey. Not at all. But almost immediately everyone wanted to go out with me. I just wanted the attention, I guess. If I had to fuck a guy to get the attention – well, that started to seem like it was just the price of admission."

"You poor thing," Hennessey soothed, tightening her hold around her waist.

"No, that’s not true. I got what I deserved." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "Hennessey, I need to tell you something, but I’ve been petrified to do it. I … I’m afraid you’ll lose what little respect you have for me."

"Sweet pea, I have a tremendous amount of respect for you. You can tell me anything; I won’t judge you, I promise."

Hennessey could hear her swallow, then, in a very quiet voice Townsend said, "I got pregnant."

"Oh, baby, I’m so sorry," Hennessey murmured.

"I told my mother on a Monday morning, and that afternoon I had an abortion. I didn’t even know where we were going when she picked me up from school. I found myself in a doctor’s office, and before I knew it they had given me a shot of something. When I woke up, it was gone." Her voice was flat and lifeless, the trauma obviously still fresh in her mind.

"Is that when you started drinking?" Hennessey asked softly, still holding her tightly.

Townsend leaned her head back against the taller woman’s shoulder and looked at the fluffy clouds in the Carolina blue sky. "I … I guess it is. I don’t remember drinking or doing drugs before then. I … wow, that’s weird."

"Sweetheart, you were violated. The boys who had sex with you violated you, and your mother violated you by not letting you have a voice in what became of the baby. I’m not saying that having an abortion was the wrong choice for you, but you didn’t get to make that choice. No matter how young you were, it was still your body, Townsend. It was your baby."

"Do you hate me for killing it?" she asked, tears streaking down her face.

"No, of course not. I could never hate you, Townsend. I’m sure your mother did what she thought was best for you. I know you’ve been in therapy; have you talked about this?"

"No," she mumbled. "I’ve always been too embarrassed to admit to it. You’re the first person I’ve ever told."

"Look, Townsend, I want you to find someone that you can talk to about this when you get back to Vermont. You need to get your feelings about this out, with someone safe."

"Okay," she said softly. "I’ve been tormented about it ever since I’ve fallen in love with you."

"Really? Why do you think that is?"

"Mmm … ‘cause I think of what it would be like to have a baby with you, and then I think that I already had my chance – and I destroyed it. I worry that I won’t ever have another opportunity, that I don’t deserve one."

"Yes, you do, baby. You deserve another chance. You were in a tough situation, Townsend. You may have fared better by having the child and giving it up for adoption, but that’s no easy decision, either. God knows that you were too young to raise it yourself, and it’s clear that your mother didn’t consider raising it for you. All of your choices were bad, baby. You did the best you could. Now you have to learn how to let go of the guilt."

"That’s always the hardest part," the young woman murmured.

After having another little snack, they lay down on the blanket, spooning with each other, Townsend’s head resting on Hennessey’s arm. "This is divine," Hennessey murmured. "I had no idea it could feel this good to just hold someone."

"Hennessey?" the blonde asked hesitantly. " Uhm … you said something last night … and it was the first time you’d ever really said anything like that …"

"What is it, baby?"

"Uhm … you said you were feeling sexual about me. Was that true?"

"Yeah, that was true," she quietly admitted. "I’ve had the clamps on my sexuality for so long that it caught me by surprise when it happened. I definitely felt something – and it was decidedly sexual."

"How do you feel about this, honey? I mean, you told me just four months ago that you were heterosexual. Is this a lot to absorb?"

"Mmm … not as much as I would have thought. It’s odd, Townsend, but I really mean it when I say that I just closed off my sexuality. I tried never to think about it. I just went to school, and studied my ass off, and worked in the shack every spare moment I had. It’s true that if you stay busy enough you don’t really have time to think about sex. Most nights I’d be so tired that I’d fall asleep before I even got my teeth brushed."

"Most nights?" Townsend asked, a slight tease in her voice.

"Yes, sweet pea, most nights. Every once in a while I’d get the urge, and it just wouldn’t go away until I took care of it."

"Did you fantasize about boys when you touched yourself?"

"No, but I also didn’t fantasize about girls. I just felt how good it felt to touch myself like that. It was very soothing."

"Do you have orgasms?" Townsend asked, intensely curious.

"Yes, honey. Everything works down there. I’ll be able to answer the call when the time comes."

"So … do you think you’re a lesbian?"

"Oh … probably. I guess we’ll find out someday, huh?"

Townsend turned her head, seeing the teasing smile. "I’ll pop you one if I spend all this time with you only to find that you don’t care for it."

"Oh, I think I’ll care for it." She cuddled up a little tighter and said, "The last few times I’ve touched myself I found myself dreaming about an adorable blonde woman, with the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen. The last time it wasn’t so soothing – it was very, very exciting."

"Ooo, baby, you’re making me shiver. Don’t even talk like that. I want you so bad my teeth hurt."

Hennessey gave Townsend a squeeze. "Patience, baby. This is a long-term goal. We’ve got to work for it to make it what we both need."

It was nearly dark when Hennessey stirred from the light doze she’d fallen into. She was still wrapped tight against Townsend, and she lay still for a few minutes, just feeling the connection that continued to grow between them.

Speaking softly, she asked, "Ready for some dinner, baby?"

"Mmm …" Townsend stretched languidly, rubbing her butt against Hennessey’s lap for a moment, making the larger woman’s heartbeat pick up. "Yeah, I could eat. What are we having?"

"Low Country boil," the brunette said with glee. "A Christmas Eve tradition."

"Honey, should we go home and have this with your grandparents? I mean, don’t we have to go to church or something?"

"Lord, no! We celebrate Christmas tomorrow, honey. We’ll have a nice, big, deep-fried turkey."

Townsend gripped her arms tightly, turning to stare at her. "You’re kidding."

"Uhn-uh," she said, looking entirely serious. "We always fry our turkey. It’s fantastic." Hennessey had a look of such intense pleasure on her face that Townsend decided to believe her.

"Well, what about church?" Townsend asked again. "I don’t wanna upset your grandma."

"We’re staunch Catholics, Townsend, but none of us have seen the inside of a church, save for funerals and weddings, since I was born."

"Well, that’s a religious practice I can live with. I guess I’ll be Catholic, too."

The fire was just about perfect, and Hennessey began to assemble all of her ingredients. "Sausage?" Townsend asked.

"Yep. Andoullie. Nice and spicy. You’ll love it." She tossed the sausage and some new potatoes into the big kettle which she had filled with water that they’d lugged with them. Then she added cayenne pepper, cloves, garlic, a couple of bay leaves, the ever-present Tabasco, and some Old Bay seasoning.

"Hey! We use this in New England for clam bakes."

"We use it for almost everything. One more thing we have in common." They sat quietly watching the gentle surf and the crackling fire. Hennessey was a very laid-back cook, not bothering to even check the food for a good, long time. She wriggled out of Townsend’s embrace after a while and tested the potatoes, pronouncing them perfect. She then added some cut up squid and some of the ubiquitous shrimp. "Gramma wouldn’t approve of the squid," she admitted, "but this isn’t crab season, and I need something with a little bit of chew to it."

"Oh, are there local crabs here?"

"Honey, I could regale you with stories about crab until the cows come home. This is definitely crab country. This is where we should come for spring break – soft shell season is my favorite time of the year."

"Spring break, huh? Sounds like I’m beginning to convince you." Townsend wiggled her eyebrows, making Hennessey chuckle.

"You’ve been very well behaved so far, sweet pea. Although I do find myself touching you much more than I had planned."

"I think that’s okay for couples when they’re courting," Townsend decided. "It’s a nice way to get to know each other’s bodies without getting into too much trouble."

"Well, I think we should limit it to when we’re fully clothed. Snuggling up against you when you only had on your pajamas was too dangerous for me. It was all I could do to not reach around and touch your breast."

"I hate to say this, but I wouldn’t have stopped you, honey. I have no willpower at all."

"That’s the most ridiculous statement I’ve ever heard out of you," Hennessey said. "What on earth are you using other than willpower to stop drinking or smoking, or having sex. Come on, baby, give yourself a little credit."

"Okay," she said softly. "I’ll try."

Hennessey leaned over the bubbling stew and sniffed approvingly. "Damn, I wish we had some corn, but I won’t buy that frozen stuff they sell in the winter. This is a whole ‘nother experience with fresh crab and corn on the cob. But, I still think you’ll like it."

She ladled out a healthy portion, putting it into just one big bowl. "I thought we could share." She filled the spoon and blew on it a little to cool it down, then eased it into Townsend’s mouth.

"Good God, I haven’t had anything that good since … yesterday! You’re as good a cook as your grandma, Hennessey."

"Nah. She’s got me beat by a mile, but I do have a certain talent," she admitted.

They shared the stew, along with some crusty hard rolls that Hennessey had picked up, both eating more than was wise. "I’m as full as a tick," Hennessey moaned. "I might have to unzip my jeans."

"Need some help?" Townsend wiggled her eyebrows, flirting shamelessly.

"I think I’d better stay buttoned up. At this point, I think your willpower is greater than mine." She stretched out on the blanket and looked up at the stars. "I think I feel so relaxed when I’m home that all of my emotions are close to the surface – including the naughty ones."

"There’s nothing naughty about the way I feel about you, Hennessey. My feelings for you are almost – sacred." She lay down next to her friend and tucked an arm around her waist, while she rested her head on her shoulder.

"I uhm … have a Christmas present for you," Hennessey said softly.

"Hey! No fair! You made me promise not to buy you anything."

"Well, it’s for you — but in the future. I’m gonna keep it for a while."

"That’s an odd definition of a present, but go on," Townsend said, smiling warmly.

Sticking her hand in her pocket, Hennessey pulled out a thin gold chain, with a small, gold disk attached to it. It was too dark for Townsend to see it well, and Hennessey wasn’t ready to let go of it, so the smaller woman waited patiently.

"I’ve given this a lot of thought, Townsend, and one thing I know is that it’s always a mistake to get into a relationship before you’ve had a year of sobriety. That’s a precept that’s proven to be true for a lot of people, baby, and I’m not going to test the theory. Not with you. You’re too precious to me to risk having this blow up in our faces."

"But we are in a relationship, Hennessey. How can you deny that?"

"It puts a whole different dimension to it when we add physical intimacy, Townsend. Right now we’re very good friends, who care for each other deeply and are trying to learn as much as we can about each other. I truly think we need to keep it right here until you’ve been sober for a year."

"But … that’s six more months," she said, her eyes growing wide.

"Yes, it is, and I know that seems like a long time, but it really isn’t, baby. We’ve known each other for six months now, and the time has gone by in a flash. We can do this, I know we can. When you’ve been sober for a year, we can start to move forward, if you want to, that is."

"Start to move forward …? What does that mean?"

"Well, I’m gonna be back at the Academy, and I have a feeling you might like to come back, too. I won’t feel comfortable having sex with you if you’re a student – even if you’re not my student."

"What if I were an employee? We’d be equals then, wouldn’t we?"

"Well, yeah, but what would you do? I know you have promise, baby, but MaryAnn would never hire you to teach without some experience."

"I don’t care what I’d do, Hennessey. I’ll work in the kitchen, I’ll clean the bungalows. Hell, I’ll just sit in your room all day, waiting for you to come home. No one has to know I’m there. I’ll be your secret stowaway."

"Well, that would give me something to look forward to," Hennessey said with a smile, "but that’s not how I conduct myself, baby. I’ll have to tell MaryAnn the whole story and see if she even wants me back."

"She’ll want you back. She’s crazy for you … and so am I. I’ll do anything to be with you, Hennessey – anything."

"I’ll speak with MaryAnn. I was going to go see her before I go back anyway. Maybe she’ll have a creative way around this."

"You’re such a good teacher, Hennessey, maybe you could teach two classes, and not work as a house leader."

The brunette thought about that for a while, "You know that might work. I got $750 a week to teach, and $250 to be a house leader. Damn, if I could make $1500 a week I’d be able to start putting money away for graduate school."

"And we could live off of the compound," Townsend suggested. "I could easily afford to rent us an apartment or a townhouse."

"Wait … wait … hold on. There’s a lot to cover here, baby. Let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll talk to MaryAnn about teaching two classes – and tell her about my … lifestyle enhancements."

"I like being an enhancement," Townsend said.

"So," Hennessey said, "all we have to agree on is that we don’t go any further until you’ve had a year of sobriety." She turned her head and looked deeply into Townsend’s eyes. "It will be hard for you, baby, but I know that eventually you’ll get sober and stay sober. I just want you to understand that I’ll be patient with you – even if you have a slip. Eventually, you’ll be able to stay on the path – I believe in you."

Townsend hugged her tight, squeezing her until Hennessey let out a yelp. "It feels so wonderful to have your trust."

"You do." She held out the chain and placed it in Townsend’s hand. "This is a one year chip. I don’t want to put pressure on you, so I’m not going to give it to you, yet. I’m going to keep it to remind myself of what we’re working towards. We’ll get there, Townsend, and when we do, I’ll put that necklace on you, and kiss your sweet neck. Then, I’ll kiss a few other things I’ve been dying to put my lips on."

"Oh, damn, why can’t the days move faster?" the blonde sighed.

"No, we need this time, baby. We both need it to grow up some more. You need to work on your sobriety and keep your grades up, and I need to work on letting my libido come out and play a little more. It’s time to start letting my body feel pleasure – so I’m ready for you when you’re ready for me."

"Do you love me, Hennessey?" the blonde asked softly. She was hovering just above her friend, watching the faint moonlight reflected in her eyes.

"I do. I love you, Townsend, with all my heart."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." She placed her head on her friend’s chest and held on tight, feeling Hennessey’s rapidly beating heart against her cheek. "You told me before that once we were sure we were in love that we could start to kiss. Is that still true?"

"Uhm …" The heartbeat picked up even quicker as the woman struggled with her thoughts. "I don’t think I can kiss you and not want to go further, baby. I just don’t think I’m that strong. But I want to – God, do I want to."

"Well, it’s Christmas, and you’re the best present I’ve ever received. Maybe we should celebrate that with just one kiss. One kiss to carry us until June."

"Until you have a year’s sobriety," Hennessey reminded her. "Don’t be too fixated on the day – that’s an easy way to lose the path, baby. You really do have to take it one day at a time."

"Okay, you’re right. Why don’t we kiss to celebrate Christmas and our love."

"Just one?"

"Yeah, just one, but it’s gotta be a good one. No cheating like you usually do, with those little pecks on the forehead. I need a real kiss to last me until I have a year of sobriety – whenever that may be."

"Good girl," Hennessey beamed. "Okay, I guess this is a pretty momentous occasion. Want me to start, or would you rather lead?"

"You start. You need the practice."

Smiling, Hennessey pinched her firmly on the waist, then turned onto her side, taking Townsend with her. She paused over her for just a moment, then blinked slowly and whispered, "I love you, Townsend." Leaning in just an inch, she pressed her lips to the incredibly soft skin, moaning a little when her mouth opened to Townsend’s probing tongue. Townsend rolled her onto her back, then pressed their bodies together, needing to feel her flesh compress against Hennessey’s. The kiss went on and on, with Townsend’s hands going to Hennessey’s hair to hold her still.

Hennessey’s hands roamed up and down the smaller woman’s back, pausing to cup her ass just briefly, then giving it a squeeze. All the while, the kiss continued, their tongues darting and swirling in each other’s mouths. Hennessey’s heart was beating so hard she was sure it would burst, but she could feel an equally wild beat from her partner, and somehow that reassured her. Finally, and with great reluctance, Hennessey began to pull away, her libido on the verge of pushing her rational mind aside. But Townsend held on tenaciously, slipping a leg between Hennessey’s thighs and pressing against her, making the brunette groan loudly. Those long legs compressed against Townsend and Hennessey shifted her hips gently, purring as she did so. Knowing that they were on the verge of combusting, Townsend gathered her wits and severed the kiss, panting softly as they broke apart.

"My, God! Is it always like that?" Hennessey gasped.

"No, no. It’s never been like that for me. That was … magical."

"How can I be so hot on such a cool night? I feel like taking my clothes off and jumping into the ocean."

"That’s called sexual excitement, honey. Get used to it, ‘cause I plan on feeding you a steady diet of it for the rest of your life."

"Thank God we go to school in different states," Hennessey moaned. "Now that I’ve felt that, I could never keep my hands off of you for six more months." She grasped the hem of her sweater and fanned it up and down, trying to get some cool air on her heated skin. "Uhm … just for the record, do most kisses involve a knee to the groin? I mean … I didn’t mind, but I wanna be prepared next time."

Townsend rolled on top of her, getting very used to the sensation. Her eyes were twinkling when she asked, "How would you prepare?"

Chuckling, Hennessey said, "I have no earthly idea. But I’m beginning to understand how people get carried away – even when they’re just kissing."

"That was some kiss," Townsend sighed. "Absolutely the best one I’ve ever had. How about you?"

"Yeah, I’d have to agree. Much, much better than Gramma and Granddaddy ever give me," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Sitting up and staring at her, Townsend gasped, "You’ve never kissed anyone?"

"Just you, sweetheart. And this is the first one that counts, since the other one was a dying woman’s last request."

"Secret?" Townsend asked, grinning impishly.

"Sure."

"When the horse kicked me I knew my skull wasn’t fractured. I’d had a concussion before, and it felt just like that. I knew the blood wasn’t coming from my ear, either. I could feel it pouring out of the cut and dripping into my ear."

"Why you little faker! I was so worried I was sick!"

"I’m sorry, honey, I just didn’t think I’d ever have another chance. And I had to kiss those pink lips. From the first day I saw you, I knew you were the woman for me – I just didn’t think you’d ever realize it."

"I realize it now," Hennessey said, beaming a grin. "And I’ve never been happier. Merry Christmas, Townsend."
"Merry Christmas, Hennessey." She leaned forward and tried for another kiss, but Hennessey was on to her tricks, and she turned her head at the last second, presenting her cheek.

"No more kisses until this necklace is settled right between those cute little collar bones. I love you enough to say no to you, Townsend."

"You know," the blonde said thoughtfully, "I think that’s the greatest present I’ve ever received. Saying no to someone can be a bigger gift than saying yes. Thank you, Hennessey. Thank you for loving me enough to do what’s right – rather than what’s easy. That’s the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received.

Part 5

MARCH 1995

A well-shaped, long-fingered hand slid across a single sheet of paper which rested on a small desk. Playing idly with the sheet, Hennessey Boudreaux folded it into thirds, then straightened it out and refolded it — fashioning it into an aerodynamic shape. Snapping her wrist, she caused the paper projectile to fly across her dorm room and land a good four feet from her intended target.

Muttering to herself about her lack of any useful athletic talents, the tall, raven-haired woman picked up the airplane and made another attempt — this time from barely three feet away. Missing again, she smiled to herself and walked back to her desk where she smoothed the paper out and read it one last time. You’re gonna be the death of me, Townsend. I swear it!

Picking up her roommate’s phone, Hennessey carefully keyed in her calling card number and waited for Townsend to answer. When the line was picked up, she spoke in her soft, slow, Carolina drawl. "You know I don’t like being dictated to, Townsend."

"I couldn’t help it! Mother said we could have the house in Martha’s Vineyard for spring break, but if I can’t give her a definite answer by today, she’s going to use it herself."

"The nerve," Hennessey said, drawing the word out to three syllables.

"I know," Townsend agreed, oblivious to her friend’s sarcasm. "So, what’s your answer, good-lookin’? I know you have the same time off that I do, I know you’re not going home, and I know that you miss me."

Hennessey lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, a slow, sly grin stealing over her features. "And just how do you know that?"

"Because I know you love me, and you have to miss people you love."

"Hmm … I guess that’s true," the older woman mused. "I miss my daddy and my granddaddy and my grandma somethin’ fierce."

"You miss me, too, babe," Townsend said in the low, sexy voice that Hennessey had quickly learned turned her usually steady knees to rubber.

Clearing her suddenly raspy throat, the dark-haired woman said, "I guess I do at that. It would be awfully nice to see you. I mean, I see you nearly every night … but my dreams are nowhere near as good as reality."

"You want to kiss me again, don’t you?" Townsend’s sexy voice asked.

"Unh-uh. I want you to kiss me. Just like last time — only longer."

"Oh, I’ll kiss you, Hennessey. I’ll kiss you on every inch of skin I can uncover." After a lengthy pause, the younger woman asked, "Hennessey? Are you there?"

"Hennessey can’t come to the phone right now. She’s lost the use of her central nervous system."

"So, can I tell Mother that we’ll take the house? Please?"

"Yes, yes, you can. I can’t wait to see you, Townsend, and I’m really looking forward to spending some time getting to know your mother."

"My mother?"

"Of course," the older woman said, barely stifling a snicker. "You’ve just reminded me of how much we need a chaperone, and since your mother wants to use the house that week, there’s no reason we shouldn’t all share it."

"But , !"

"No buts, Townsend. It’s not a good idea for us to be alone."

"Oh, Hennessey, you can’t possibly mean to tell me that you plan on sticking to that ridiculous idea of not sleeping together until I’ve been sober for a year!"

With her voice taking on a very solemn tone, Hennessey said, "I’ve never been more serious about anything. I don’t want to merely sleep with you, Townsend. I want to love you and be in a relationship with you. I’ll understand if you don’t want the same thing, but this is what I want … it’s what I need."

There was a pause that was far longer than Hennessey was comfortable with. Townsend cleared her throat and asked in a very quiet voice, "Do you want it badly enough to lose me?"

The question caught Hennessey by surprise, and for just a moment, she felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. But she examined her heart for a few moments and told the truth. "Yes, I do. I want it because it’s the right thing for both of us, Townsend. I can understand if you don’t want to wait — but I have to."

Obviously frustrated, Townsend sighed, "How can it be right to deny yourself something you want so much? I want you so badly that my body aches for you."

"I want you, too," Hennessey whispered. "More than I ever thought I could want anyone. But I will not set myself up, Townsend. Until you’ve been sober for a full year, we will not be sexually intimate. I will not risk your sobriety or my sanity."

"But I’m going to a meeting every day, Hennessey. Lots of people get into relationships after they’ve only been sober for a short while."

Believing she already knew the answer, Hennessey asked, "What does your sponsor say?"

Waiting a beat, Townsend said quietly, "Uhm … I don’t have a sponsor … right now."

"What? When did this happen?"

"This past weekend. Sharon fell off the wagon, Hennessey. It was only one day, and she’s back in the program, but she has to concentrate on herself right now."

"Oh, shit. What happened?"

"Uhm … she caught her boyfriend cheating on her. She … lost it, Hennessey. It … scared me."

"I bet it did," Hennessey sympathized. "It’s hard to stay sober, Townsend. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, and it deserves your full attention."

"But half of my attention is on you, Hennessey."

"I know that. Sometimes I wish it weren’t so, but I know that it is."

"Having you in my life helps keep me sober, Hennessey; I swear it does."

Blowing out a breath, Hennessey said, "God knows that I hope that’s true. I don’t know what I’d do if I felt like you started drinking again because of me."

"I won’t, Hennessey. I go to my meetings, and I read The Big Book every night. I say those little affirmations you sent me, too. They’re so earnest they make me barf, but I say ‘em."

Chuckling softly at her friend’s disarming honesty, Hennessey said, "It’s obvious that you’re working hard, Townsend, but you’re not nearly out of the woods."

"I know that." There was a pause that immediately set off warning signals in Hennessey’s brain.

"What happened?" she asked sharply.

"Uhm … nothing bad," Townsend replied. "I, uhm … had a little slip, but it wasn’t with alcohol."

Letting out a sigh, Hennessey asked, "What did you take, sweetheart?"

"Nicotine," Townsend mumbled. "I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so depressed about Sharon …"

"Tell me what happened, honey."

Her voice was so calm and non-judgmental that Townsend felt her anxiety start to fade. "We were supposed to get together for coffee on Saturday afternoon, before the meeting. She didn’t show up, so I called her house and she answered … drunk."

"Oh, baby, that must have been so hard for you to hear."

"It was. It really was, Hennessey. I know I shouldn’t have, but I went to a convenience store and bought some cigarettes. I, uhm … stared at the beer for so long that the owner came over and asked me what was wrong — but I didn’t buy any - I didn’t."

She was sobbing softly, and Hennessey wanted so badly to be there to hold her and comfort her, but all she could offer was her gentle voice and soothing words. "You had a tough time, baby, but you didn’t drink. That’s what counts. Trying to stop drinking and taking drugs and smoking all at the same time might be too much for you."

"But you don’t like it when I smell like smoke," Townsend whimpered.

"No, I don’t. But that’s not what matters. I think you should find another sponsor as soon as possible and discuss this with him or her. Maybe you need to wait a bit to work on your smoking."

"But you won’t want to kiss me," Townsend murmured. "Your kisses are all I think about."

"I’d kiss you if you had a big, nasty plug of tobacco in your mouth," Hennessey teased.

"But you wouldn’t like it," the younger woman said.

Hennessey took a minute to focus, then asked, "Townsend? Do you ever feel like you’re getting sober just for me?"

"Just for you?"

"Yeah. I need to know."

Taking in a few deep breaths, Townsend considered her actions of the past eight months and answered as honestly as she could. "At first, it was all because of you, baby. But not now. Now, I feel like I’m doing this for me and for you and for us. I’d have been dead before I was thirty if I’d kept going at the rate I was. Sharon always said, if you’ve gotta stop sometime — it might as well be now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course I’m sure. Why do you want to know?"

"Because this isn’t going to work if you feel that you have to stay sober and stop using drugs and stop smoking all because of me. This has to be something that’s important to you — for you."

"It is, sweetheart. I want to live. I’ll admit that one of my main reasons for living is to be with you — but that’s not the only reason."

"Tell me the other reasons, Townsend. I need to know."

"Okay." Townsend took a moment, then said, "I’ve … I’ve started to enjoy life. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy to wake up in the morning. You’re gonna laugh," she said, "but I’ve started to become a nature freak — just like you."

Hennessey laughed, the sound so musical that Townsend felt a familiar chill race down her spine. "A nature freak, huh? How did that come about?"

"Well, Sharon has been urging me to get up early and go for a walk in the morning. She said it’s a nice way to clear my head and plan my day. I think about what I have to do and try to think of any situations I might be in that could tempt me. For the first few weeks, I didn’t even pay attention to where I was. I was just pissed off that it was 7:00 a.m. and I was out stomping around in the snow."

"Now that sounds like my girl."

"Nope. That was the old Townsend. The new, improved Townsend has discovered that Vermont is fucking beautiful!"

"Do tell?" Hennessey prodded, giggling softly.

"Yeah, it’s really pretty here. Maybe you could come see me before the year’s up, huh? I think you’d really like it."

"I hope that I can, too. Now, tell me what you like about your morning walk," Hennessey said. "My curiosity is really piqued."

"Uhm … I guess one thing I like is that it feels so good to be able to walk without being out of breath. My lungs don’t hurt anymore, and I don’t have that nasty cough that used to bother me in the morning. My sense of smell is better, too. I can tell if it’s going to snow just from the way the air smells."

"Mmm … that makes me so happy," Hennessey murmured. "I know just what you mean. I can tell you how hot it’s going to be and when it’s gonna rain just from smelling the air in the morning. It’s nice to get your senses back, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, it is. I’m actually starting to like snow for the first time in my life. I got some snowshoes, and on the weekends, I go for long walks in the woods — and think of you."

"I think of you much more than I should," Hennessey admitted. "Every short story I write has an adorable blonde in it. My creative writing teacher actually made a comment about it the other day. We were supposed to write a story about India at the end of British rule, and Professor Ring said, "You’ve got your work cut out for you, Hennessey. I don’t think there were many attractive, young, blonde women in India during this time period.""

Townsend laughed helplessly. "Oh, Hennessey, you must have been embarrassed!"

"Nah. I don’t care if all of Harvard University knows I’m hopelessly in love with a beautiful woman. As long as I’m more than five hundred miles from home, I’m a real rainbow flag waver."

"You’ll get comfortable with it at some point, honey. Don’t stress about it."

"That’s how I feel about your smoking," Hennessey said. "I’ll admit that it will be a little unpleasant for me if you’re smoking. It reminds me too much of my mother, and thoughts about her sometimes intrude when I’m around someone who smokes. But I don’t want you to feel that you have to quit because I’ve told you to. This relationship can’t work if I’m the adult and you’re only trying to please me."

"Oh, but I want to please you," Townsend said in that incredibly sexy voice. "I want to please you so much that every nerve will beg for mercy."

"Uhm … I could be wrong, but I think I was talking about smoking, and you were talking about something completely different."

"Oh, I can make you smoke," Townsend giggled. "But don’t worry about me, babe; I think I’ll be all right. I smoked about ten cigarettes in a row and made myself so sick, I threw up right into a snow bank. Do you know how nasty vomit looks on snow?"

"I’m from South Carolina, honey. We throw up in the ocean, like self-respecting people."

"Do you still love me, Hennessey? Even when I’m weak and give into temptation?"

"I do. More than ever. I love you, and I respect you for trying so hard to conquer your demons, baby."

"You were teasing about having Mother come with us, weren’t you?"

"Honey, I never tease about your sobriety. I’ll only come if your mother or father is there also. And I swear, if I get there and find out you’re alone, I’ll leave. I’m not kidding, Townsend."

"I know," she said glumly. "You never tease when I want you to."

After hanging up, Hennessey got out the phone book and perused the pages in the front of the tome. Several hours later, she found herself in a familiar setting, even though she’d never been to the church auditorium before. When it was her turn to speak, she cleared her throat and said, "Hi, I’m Hennessey, and I’m falling in love with an alcoholic."

Several more conversations followed the first, and eventually Townsend resigned herself to the fact that Hennessey was intractable. And so, on a bright, cool Saturday morning in March, Hennessey was waiting on the steps of her dorm, grinning widely when a large, black Mercedes pulled up. Townsend jumped out and threw her arms around the larger woman, murmuring, "God, I’ve missed you. Three months without touching you is an eternity!"

Dropping a soft kiss on the top of Townsend’s golden hair, Hennessey said, "Let’s go, honey. I don’t want to keep your mother waiting."

"Good Lord," Townsend grumbled, stooping to pick up Hennessey’s bag, "I’ve had hotter kisses from my grandfather."

"Good morning Mrs. Bartley," Hennessey said when she entered the car.

"Hello there, Hennessey. How have you been?"

"Very well, thanks. I’m glad that winter’s just about over, though. This is the first time I’ve ever been in truly cold weather, and my thin Southern blood could use a good shot of anti-freeze."

"Well, I don’t know if you’ll be much happier in Martha’s Vineyard," the older woman said, smiling at Hennessey. "We get a very brisk breeze at this time of year."

"I’ll keep you warm," Townsend said, winking at her friend.

"I brought long underwear and wool sweaters," Hennessey replied, giving Townsend a superior smile.

The drive was a lovely one, and Hennessey found her attention divided between listening to Townsend and her mother and watching the scenery. "Have you been to the shore before, Hennessey?" Mrs. Bartley asked.

"No, I haven’t. I haven’t ventured very far out of Boston, to be honest. Actually, I don’t leave Cambridge very often, but my roommate is from Brookline, and I’ve been to her home for dinner several times."

"Well, this should be quite an experience for you then. I think you’ll love the sea."

"I have a great deal of experience on the water, Mrs. Bartley. But the Atlantic is fairly tame where I’m from."

"Oh, that’s right! You’re from South Carolina. How forgetful of me. Now, what line of work is your father in, dear?"

"He’s a shrimper," Hennessey said. "My father fishes, and my grandparents run a small restaurant that uses his entire catch."

"I’ve told you all of this, Mother," Townsend said in an irritated voice.

Turning to her daughter, Miranda said, "I’m sure you have, but I’m interested in hearing what Hennessey has to say. You don’t mind, do you, Hennessey?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Bartley. I could talk about my family all day."

"I’m sure you’ve told me, but remind me again of what your family situation is."

"I live with my father and my grandparents."

"Are your parents divorced, dear?"

"Yes," the young woman said. "They split up when I was a baby. My grandparents raised me."

"Oh." There was a long, uncomfortable pause, then Miranda asked, "Do you see your mother?"

"Yes, ma’am. She lives close to us. Even though she didn’t raise me, she’s still my mother, and I love her very much."

"I see," Miranda said, wondering what was going on behind those clear, blue eyes.

"I told you about the fabulous food that Hennessey’s grandmother makes," Townsend said, trying to divert attention from her friend.

"Yes, I recall that you did," Miranda said. "You’re from Beaufort, Hennessey?"

"Yes, ma’am," Hennessey said, giving her a warm smile.

"I wonder if I’ve ever dined at your family’s restaurant. I’ve been to Beaufort many, many times. I set one of my novels there, you know."

"No, ma’am, I didn’t know," Hennessey said. "I wish I had time to read for pleasure, but I’m afraid that will have to wait until summer."

"Maybe you’ll have a little time this week. I have copies of all of my books at the beach house."

"God damn it, Mother. Hennessey doesn’t want to read your books; she’s just being polite!"

Before Miranda could say a word, Hennessey jumped in. "Townsend, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak for me. I’m perfectly able to decide what I’ll read, and when I’ll read it." Turning to Miranda, she said, "I’m not merely being polite, Mrs. Bartley; I’d love to read one of your books. You can advise me which one would be best to start with."

Townsend sank into the corner of the roomy seat, scowling at both of her fellow backseat passengers.

Hennessey wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but even with no particular expectations, the cottage was hard for her to get her mind around. She’d known that Townsend was from a wealthy family, but she honestly didn’t have much of a frame of reference for what substantial wealth could buy.

This cottage, used infrequently, was bigger, more lavish, and more beautifully appointed than any home she’d ever been in, and she began to feel uncomfortable while they were still in the foyer. She knew that she was being silly, so she tried her best to keep her discomfort to herself.

"You have a lovely home," she said to Miranda, putting on what she knew had to be a staged-looking smile.

"Oh, it’s nothing too special, Hennessey. Just a place to get away for a few days. It’s nice to rough it a little." She laughed softly, and Hennessey saw so much of Townsend in the woman’s expression that her own smile grew genuine and bright.

"I’ll show her around, Mom," Townsend said, taking Hennessey’s hand in her own and pulling her towards the wall of French doors in the back of the living room.

"Where are we going?" Hennessey asked when they reached the back yard.

"We’re going to the guest house. That’s where I always stay," Townsend said.

Stopping in her tracks, Hennessey’s dark head started to shake. "Not a good idea. Your mother won’t hear my screams when you try to molest me."

"Oh, Hennessey, you’re so goofy. My mother medicates herself so thoroughly that she’d never hear your screams, regardless of where we were. You’re gonna have to defend yourself, sweetheart."

Her face growing serious, Hennessey said, "I mean it, Townsend. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be alone. I’d rather sleep in the main house."

For several seconds, Townsend stared at her friend, then shook her head and started down a stone path, heading towards the two-story guest house. Hennessey watched her go, then stepped back into the house.

Miranda came out of the kitchen and gave Hennessey a quizzical glance. "Do you need something, dear?"

"Uhm … I … uhm … don’t know where I should sleep. Is there a guest room?"

"You’re not sleeping in the guest house?" the older woman asked. "I assumed you’d be more comfortable there."

"I don’t … I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I need to have my own room, Mrs. Bartley."

"Have you two had a fight?"

"No … well … maybe a small one. But that’s not the point. We’re trying to take this slowly, Mrs. Bartley. We’re not uhm … being intimate, yet."

The older woman blinked in surprise, then asked, "Still? Why ever not?"

You’re not in South Carolina anymore, Hennessey. Try to keep up. "Well, I think that Townsend should focus on staying sober. Getting too involved at this point might hurt her focus."

"Huh." Miranda shook her head, smiling to herself. "You are just as earnest as Townsend says you are."

Blushing, Hennessey nodded. "I know I’m not your typical eighteen-year-old, Mrs. Bartley. But Townsend needs some help with staying sober. I don’t want to supervise her, but I also don’t want to tempt her."

Eyebrows furrowing, Miranda asked, "Do you really think she’ll stay sober? Lord knows I want her to, but I can’t imagine that she can do it."

"I believe in her," Hennessey said, her confidence reflected in her eyes.

"I can see that," Miranda said, giving the girl a small smile. "I hope you’re right."

"I hope so, too." Lifting her bag, Hennessey asked, "Guest room?"

"Oh! Well, there are a few rooms on the second floor, but I’m planning on writing this week, and my schedule’s a little odd. I’m often nocturnal, and I have the stereo on rather loud. I’m sure you’ll be happier in the guest house."

"But …"

"You can lock your door, Hennessey," the woman said, giving the girl a puzzled smile. "I don’t think Townsend has an ax with her."

"Oh. I didn’t realize there was more than one room," Hennessey explained.

"There are three bedrooms in that house, dear. You can have an empty room between the two of you, just to be safe."

"I feel like an idiot," Hennessey mumbled. "And I hurt Townsend’s feelings."

Laughing wryly, Miranda said, "Her feelings are always hurt, Hennessey. You’ll get used to it."

Tentatively cracking open the door to the guest house, Hennessey stuck her head in, hoping that Townsend wouldn’t hurl anything at her. Spotting the blonde sitting on a white duck sofa, she asked, "Can I come in?"

"If you must," Townsend answered, not making eye contact.

Hennessey walked through the entryway and set her bag down. Approaching Townsend, she sat down next to her and said, "I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I should have asked what the accommodations were, and what you and your mom had already worked out. I’m really sorry, Townsend."

Giving her a curious look, Townsend asked, "Do you want to be here, Hennessey? Do you want to be with me?"

"Yes! Of course I do!"

"It’s mid-March, and I haven’t seen you since January third. You keep me at arm’s length — like you’re half-in and half-out."

Scooting closer to her friend, Hennessey said, "That’s not true. I’m all in, Townsend. I’m one hundred percent into this — into you. But I know this year has been, and is going to continue to be, hard for you, and I want to give you the space to learn how to be your own person — the you who doesn’t abuse her body and her mind."

Townsend nodded and sat quietly for a few moments. She was staring at the fireplace, her eyes twitching over the gnarled wood that had been neatly stacked on the hearth. "Would you stop loving me if I drank, Hennessey?"

Hennessey answered without a moment’s hesitation. "No, I wouldn’t. I’d still love you, Townsend, but I couldn’t be with you if you decided to start drinking again. I can’t do that to myself, honey. I can’t watch my daddy and my momma and you all slowly kill yourselves. I can’t."

Townsend reached up and gently wiped at the tears that were slipping down Hennessey’s pink cheeks. "I won’t ever drink again, Hennessey. I promise I won’t."

"No, baby. Please don’t talk like that. It’s only gonna get you into trouble. Just try to stay sober right now. Don’t worry about tomorrow."

"Okay," the blonde nodded. "I’ll try to."

They rested against each other, their bodies slowly molding together. "What does a girl have to do to get a decent kiss around here?" Hennessey’s syrupy sweet voice finally asked.

Without a word, Townsend shifted in her friend’s embrace and pressed her lips against the ones she’d been dreaming of for the past two and a half months. Letting out a guttural groan, she wrapped her arms around Hennessey and sank into the delicious sensation of kissing those beautiful, full lips.

"Nice," Hennessey purred, pulling away. "Nicer than my dreams."

Reaching for the back of her partner’s head, Townsend found her efforts rebuffed when Hennessey slithered out of her grip.

"Time for some lunch," the brunette said. "I’m starving." She leaned forward for one more buss, then started to get up.

But Townsend had other ideas. Tackling the larger woman, she soon found her lap filled with one hundred thirty-five pounds of soft, warm, luscious Hennessey. "I need more," Townsend growled, placing a flurry of kisses on Hennessey’s face, neck and ears. "I need you so badly," she murmured between ragged breaths.

Gently but firmly pulling away from Townsend’s rabid embrace, Hennessey got to her rubbery legs and took a deep, calming breath. "Too much," she managed to get out. "That’s too much, baby."

Townsend leaned back against the cushions, then ran a hand through her hair, a wan smile on her face. "Can’t blame a girl for trying."

"I admire your persistence," Hennessey said, smiling warmly. "Your determination is what’s gonna see you through this." She extended a hand and Townsend started to grasp it, but Hennessey pulled it away at the last second. "Fool me once…" she said, laughing as Townsend stuck out her tongue and got to her feet. Draping an arm around the slightly narrower shoulders, Hennessey dropped a kiss onto the top of Townsend’s head as they left the building their laughter quickly absorbed by the sounds of the sea.

Miranda didn’t wish to go into town with the young women; she merely asked that they bring her some form of hearty salad when they returned. "Wanna ride bikes?" Townsend asked.

"Sure. Do you have two?"

"Uh-huh. Follow me." Townsend led the way to a very deep garage that could easily house four cars, if they were parked in tandem. There was a Mercedes SUV parked in the back of the space, and Hennessey noted all sorts of beach, fishing, clamming and other assorted paraphernalia stacked around as well. Townsend moved a few things and produced two simple beach cruisers.

"These are great," Hennessey said. "Just perfect for the beach."

"Yeah, it’s too sandy to ride a proper road bike out here. These work just fine."

"Helmets?" Hennessey asked, looking around.

"Be wild," Townsend urged. "Live on the edge for just a moment."

"I don’t know, Townsend," the older woman mused. "I might have nightmares about this. I’ve never done anything this daring."

"Move out," Townsend smirked. "I want to see that cute ass in front of me the whole time."

"Don’t you dare look at my ass!" Hennessey said in mock horror. "We’re not formally engaged."

Townsend gave the ass in question a firm swat, and the pair set off on their short jaunt into town.

"Damn, this place is so charming, it’s almost cloying," Hennessey teased.

"Yeah. Martha’s Vineyard is truly a New England seacoast village — and most of the buildings are original. It’s just that now they’re filled with gourmet ice cream and coffee shops rather than fishing supplies."

"Well, it’s damned cute. Where do you want to eat?"

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Mmm … not fish. I think we’ll get plenty of that this week. Let’s get a nice, big cheeseburger and a chocolate malt."

"Okay, but I’ve already put on five pounds since I stopped smoking. You could fatten me up to the point where you’re not hot for me anymore."

"Never gonna happen," Hennessey proclaimed. "There’d just be more to love."

Hennessey licked a gooey glop of chili off the edge of her hamburger bun and giggled when Townsend reached over and wiped at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "I can’t have you looking like a slob. I have a reputation around here, you know," the younger woman reminded her.

"I’ll just bet you do. Maybe I should sit at the next table so the police don’t put me on their ‘watch list.’"

"Funny," Townsend snickered, touching Hennessey’s nose with the dirty part of the napkin.

Hennessey wiped the tip of her nose and said, "You know I’m kidding. I’m very proud to be with you, Townsend." Blowing her a kiss, she added, "You make me happy."

With her fingers creeping across the tabletop like a tarantula, Townsend slid her hand into Hennessey’s. "So, you won’t mind it if I kiss you in public? Hold your hand?"

"I’d mind it if you didn’t," Hennessey assured her. "But first, I’ve gotta eat this burger. Then my hand is yours."

Townsend had already finished, and she braced her chin on her hands, watching her friend eat. "You sure can put it away for such a skinny woman."

"I’m not skinny," Hennessey sniffed. "I’m lean. Big difference."

"Your dad is built like you, isn’t he?"

"Uh-huh. Long and lanky."

"I like long and lanky. I like those curves you try to hide under your baggy clothes, too."

"They’re not baggy," Hennessey gently said. "They’re cut generously. I like to be able to move in my clothes."

"I’d like to move in your clothes, too. I think there’s just enough room for me to join you in that sweater."

"Your head would never fit through the collar," Hennessey said, chuckling.

"I wouldn’t want my head to be out of the collar. The good parts are all hidden inside."

"Good Lord, Townsend, must you make me blush every fifteen seconds? Surely we have something to talk about other than sex."

With her green eyes roaming idly around the room, Townsend shook her head. "Nope. Just sex."

Laughing, Hennessey said, "Well, I have other topics on my list. What can we expect this week? Will we have dinner with your mother?"

"I guess it’s possible, but I wouldn’t count on it."

"Really? Why?"

"Uhm … when she comes here, she comes to write. She’s got her wacky schedule, and she doesn’t like to disturb it. The last time we were here together I think the only times I saw her were in the car on the way up and the way back."

"Speaking of the car, where did our driver disappear to?"

"Oh, he’s around. Mother puts him up at a place in town, and then pages him when she wants him. Sometimes he gets a week’s vacation. Other times he’s driving over to the house six times a day. With us here, he’ll probably get a nice vacation. We’ll be running the errands."

"She doesn’t go out? See any friends?"

"Nope. I’m sure she hasn’t told any of her friends she’s here. When she’s here to write — she writes."

Hennessey’s brows narrowed, and she asked, "How does she write if she’s, uhm … medicated … as you put it?"

"Oh, she’s a morphine addict," the younger woman said casually. "It doesn’t affect her much as long as she has access to her drug."

Hennessey’s eyes were so wide, they nearly popped from her head. "She’s a morphine addict?"

"Uh-huh. I’m not sure she knows that I know, but she’s been on Vicodin and OxyContin for years."

"That’s what I took from you at camp," Hennessey said quietly.

"Yeah. I didn’t take it often, but it was nice to have a little stash. I thought my stupid camp counselor would believe it was a legit drug. Just my luck I had to get a sharp one."

"Just your luck," Hennessey agreed, smiling at her. "So, how does the morphine affect your mom?"

"It really doesn’t. I mean, I’m sure she has to increase the dosage periodically, but as long as she can continue to get it, she won’t have to kick for a long time."

"Damn," Hennessey said, shaking her head. Looking at Townsend, she asked, "Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Mmm … not as much as your parent’s alcohol abuse bothers you. She doesn’t act like she’s on anything, so it doesn’t get in the way."

Looking pensive, Hennessey asked, "How do you feel about her, Townsend? Do you hate her?"

"Hate her?" The younger woman looked surprised at the question. "Hate her? No, I don’t hate her. Why would you think that?"

"Well … you don’t act very fond of her. You hardly ever say a kind word to her. Heck, I’ve never heard you say please or thank you to her, Townsend. That’s not the mark of a young woman who’s fond of her mom."

"Huh." Townsend shrugged her shoulders. "I don’t think about her very often, to be honest. I don’t dislike her, but I don’t know her well enough to like her much, either."

Gazing at her friend for a long while, Hennessey said, "She’s your mom, Townsend; how can you not know her?"

"We’ll see how well you know her at the end of this week," Townsend said. "Then you might understand what I’m talking about."

As predicted, Hennessey couldn’t stop herself, and at dinner, she indulged in a few of her favorite seafood dishes. "You know, I’ve become quite the connoisseur of clam chowder," she said. "This one is particularly good."

"Yeah, it’s never too floury here. Lots of clams, too."

"I think I’m gonna like it here," Hennessey said. "It’s kinda like home — but with funny accents and more expensive houses."

"Yeah. Those Massachusetts accents really do stick out," Townsend agreed, making a face at her friend. "Speaking of home, do you want to call your grandparents while you’re here? Feel free, if you do."

"No, I don’t think I will. They have the number if they need me." She looked a bit embarrassed and said, "I’d like to be able to relax and not have to worry about them for a week. I can always tell when things aren’t going well, but there’s almost nothing I can do."

"I know, honey. I know how hard it is for you."

"At least when I’m home, I can help out. All the way up here, I’m truly powerless. It’s hard sometimes."

"I understand," Townsend said.

"So, let’s just have fun this week, okay?"

"That’s what I’m best at," Townsend assured her.

Late that night, the pair walked along the beach, the wind brisk and cold, their hair blowing wildly. "It’s never like this in South Carolina," Hennessey muttered, her teeth chattering.

"Massachusetts doesn’t hold a candle to South Carolina, does it?" Townsend asked.

"No, no, it doesn’t," Hennessey said. "I never want to be far from home, Townsend. I hope you understand that."

"I do," the smaller woman said, nodding. "I like the Northeast, but I’m not in love with it. I’m in love with you, Hennessey, and I’m sure that I’ll like anywhere we end up."

"Think Beaufort," Hennessey said, burrowing against Townsend’s greater warmth.

"How about some hot chocolate?" Townsend asked when they returned to the guest house.

"I’d love some. Can we make it here?"

"The kitchen’s fully equipped, but it’s not stocked with food right now. I’ll run over to the main house. Be right back." As she started for the door, Townsend asked, "Can you build a fire?"

"Can I build a fire," Hennessey muttered to herself as she got up and began to do just that.

A few minutes later, Townsend was back, chuckling at Hennessey’s perfectionist streak. "Will you have that ready by the time we go to bed?"

"It’s ready now, for your information," Hennessey said. "If you build it right, you don’t have to fuss with it much."

"Here’s your chocolate, babe."

Hennessey lit the fire and stood up, watching it spring to life. She took a sip of her drink, made a slight face and asked, "Microwave, huh?"

"Yep. That’s the best you’ll get from me. Do you mind?"

"Yeah, but not to worry. I’ll teach you how to cook."

"Uh-huh. That’ll happen. I think the odds are better that we’ll hire a cook."

Hennessey started to speak, but thought better of it. "We’ll work it out," she said, smiling warmly. "One day at a time, baby."

They sat down on the sofa, leaning against each other, while they watched the well-made fire crackle. "Nice, isn’t it?" Townsend asked softly.

"I guess there’s something to be said for cold weather," Hennessey agreed. "Getting warm is pretty darned nice."

Townsend placed her mug on the table, then smiled knowingly and removed the one in Hennessey’s hand. "I can warm you up in a hurry." Taking the larger woman in her arms, she began to kiss the lips that joined with hers. "God, I love you," she whispered between kisses.

"I love you, too," Hennessey murmured. "Being held and kissed like this feels so wonderful."

"I could kiss you all night."

Hennessey let herself melt into Townsend’s arms, allowing her body to press against the delightful softness. Slowly, she opened her mouth and purred when Townsend’s tongue immediately entered.

Suddenly, she was being pushed firmly, and she started to sink into the cushions. Using all of her strength, she pushed back, not relenting until she was fully upright. "Someday. But not tonight." Hennessey pulled away and placed a few soft kisses on Townsend’s brow. "I’ve missed you so much, and fantasized about being with you so often, that my resolve isn’t what is usually is."

"Oh, Hennessey, don’t leave me so soon. It’s been months!"

"I have to, baby." She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms against her visibly frustrated partner. "Please don’t be angry with me. We’re going too fast, and you’re pushing me a little harder than I’m comfortable with. I know I’m going too slowly to please you, but this is all I can do right now."

Sighing, Townsend said, "It’s okay. I just … I just want you so badly."

Hennessey placed her forehead against her partner’s and whispered, "Be happy with what we have. I am." After an emotion-filled hug, she got up and turned to walk down the hall to the far bedroom, quietly locking the door behind her.

The pair did nothing of note on Sunday, but they both had one of the most enjoyable days of their young lives. Merely being together and sharing the small, normally insignificant parts of the day had new meaning when viewed through each other’s eyes.

After a fun, relaxed dinner at a quiet cafe, they walked along the streets of the town, with Hennessey chattering away incessantly, like she did when she was completely relaxed and happy. Townsend looked up at her and felt such an overpowering feeling of love that her heart seemed to skip a beat. She had never in her life felt so safe, so whole, so connected to another person, and it was all she could do to stay grounded. Gripping Hennessey’s hand with strong pressure, she leaned against her and whispered, "You make me so happy."

Smiling warmly, the edges of her mouth curling up in the way that made Townsend’s knees weak, Hennessey said, "It makes me happy to make you happy. Pretty good pairing, huh?"

"The best," Townsend sighed, pulling Hennessey’s arm in front of her and holding on as if it were a precious keepsake.

Back at the guest house, Townsend came into the main room, wearing her pajamas and slippers. "Good job on the fire," she said, smiling at a pleased-looking Hennessey. "You look cute in those pajamas, by the way.

"I splurged," she admitted. "I didn’t have any proper ones — just sweats and T-shirts. But I didn’t know what the set-up would be here, and I thought I should look presentable."

"You look more than presentable," Townsend said. "The sky blue color nearly matches your eyes, and those white clouds make you look like the angel you are."

"That’s me," Hennessey said, grinning. "The angel Hennessey."

Townsend had been brushing her hair, and she walked around to the back of the sofa on which her friend was sitting . "I’ve always wanted to brush your hair. May I?"

"Uhm … sure. It probably needs it after all of that heavy sea air."

The younger woman set to work, gently untangling a few strands, then gliding the brush through the long, dark locks. With a sexy moan, Hennessey lay her head back against the sofa and let Townsend work her magic. "God, that feels good. No one has brushed my hair since I was a little girl. I’ve forgotten how wonderful it feels."

"Shh … relax and enjoy it, baby. Feel the brush where it tickles your scalp and pulls just a tiny bit when it slides through your hair. Isn’t that nice?"

"Uh-huh. So nice." Hennessey spread her long arms along the back of the couch and was soon pressing against the brush to make sure it reached every part of her head.

Townsend marveled at the pure, sensual beauty of her partner and realized that Hennessey was acting freer and more openly sexual than she’d ever seen her. It’s because I’m not pushing her? she marveled. How stupid am I? She’s like a big, fluffy pussycat when I let her come to me. Having some useful experience with recalcitrant cats, Townsend gentled her touch even more, with Hennessey turning her head this way and that, seeking the elusive pressure. Without a sound, Townsend set the brush down and began to use her fingers on the sensitized scalp, her knees nearly buckling at Hennessey’s guttural groan.

With gentle, loving care, Townsend trailed her fingertips in long, unpredictable paths all along Hennessey’s arms, leaving her mark on every inch. The larger woman followed her fingers, nearly rising from her seat when Townsend pulled away a few inches. Oh, she’s so compliant when she’s treated tenderly.

After touching and teasing and caressing her partner, Townsend let her fingers slip below her collar — to stroke Hennessey’s incredible skin, trailing over her neck and the slope of her wide shoulders. The flannel pajamas were a slight impediment, and to her amazement, Hennessey opened a couple of buttons and exposed her shoulders completely, the fabric slipping down her body to barely cover her nipples. Good God, why didn’t it dawn on me that this is how she’d be? You can’t be aggressive with a woman who’s never had sex before! Don’t screw this up, Townsend … Even though you want to rip her shirt off — take it easy. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anyone who was even partially innocent — try to remember what it was like.

Suddenly, Hennessey’s hands were sliding up Townsend’s arms. When they reached her neck, gentle pressure urged the blonde down, and she accepted the invitation by tenderly nuzzling on the perfect, smooth skin. She kept her touch light and soft, trying to make Hennessey ask for what she wanted and, hopefully, what she needed. With a whisper-like kiss, Townsend slipped her lips across the expanse of Hennessey’s shoulders, occasionally smoothing her path with a light swipe of her tongue. Hennessey did nothing but moan and writhe against her, but those two actions were everything that Townsend could have hoped for.

When the blonde began to delicately lick and suckle on an earlobe glowing pink with arousal, Hennessey had reached the breaking point. "Kiss me," she whispered, her voice so sexy and warm that Townsend felt faint.

Yes! Yes! She finally asked for what she wants! I knew she could do it! Townsend walked around to the front of the couch and gasped softly while she took her lover in. Hennessey was splayed out against the sofa, her shirt half open, a pair of small, perfectly formed breasts peeking out of the fabric. Her legs were spread wide as she slumped against the sofa, and every possible outward sign of her arousal was glaringly obvious.

Townsend sank to her knees, nestled between her partner’s legs, and reached out with both arms, making Hennessey close the gap. The larger woman did so without hesitation, though her shirt hampered her reach. Without a thought, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside, then wrapped her heated body around Townsend and kissed her with a passion that the smaller woman had never dreamed of.

Hennessey let every bit of her self-control fade away as she held onto her partner for dear life, kissing her with every bit of her body and soul. For the first time in a very long time, Townsend heard a small voice in the farthest reaches of her brain. She wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to, but it had elements that reminded her of her own. This isn’t what she wants. You tricked her into this. You tried to get her to submit to you — and now she has. Happy?

The frantic brunette was sucking on Townsend’s lower lip as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on the cotton pajamas. Frustrated, Hennessey grabbed the roomy shirt and whisked it off Townsend’s body — just as one would do to a three-year-old. Her warm, slightly damp hand reached between their bodies and started to massage Townsend’s breast as Hennessey once again latched onto her partner’s lips.

Holding on to the brunette with a firm grip, Townsend pulled back just enough to look into Hennessey’s smoky eyes. She could see that the beautiful woman was acting on passion alone — there wasn’t a hint of thought or control in those almost-vacant eyes. "Hennessey," she heard herself say. "Hennessey."

"Huh?"

"Is this what you want?" Townsend asked, knowing what the answer would be if Hennessey were in her right mind.

Something snapped, and a spark of the normal intelligence came back into the blue eyes. "Want? Uhm… don’t you?"

"Yes, of course I do. I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you. But is it what you want? Do you want this now, honey?"

"Do I want … now?" Shaking her head, Hennessey slowly ran her hand along Townsend’s bare back, then passed the same hand down her own chest, drawing back in shock. "Oh, God, what are we doing?"

"We’re about to make love," Townsend whispered, resting her head on her lover’s shoulder so she didn’t have to see the confused look in her eyes.

"Fuck," the larger woman muttered, now fully aware of her actions. They held onto each other for a long time, Hennessey’s hot body pulsing against Townsend. Finally, something dawned on the larger woman, and she pulled her head up and gazed at Townsend, then let her mouth curl into a gentle smile. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me." Bending her head once again, she gave Townsend a kiss that was filled with the dying embers of her passion and an equal portion of her love.

Part 6

The next morning, Hennessey popped her head into Townsend’s room after knocking gently. "Hi," she said, smiling at the grumpy look her partner gave her. "I noticed that someone went shopping yesterday. I’m gonna go make breakfast and bring it back here. I can make anything you want."

"I want another two hours of sleep," Townsend muttered.

"Coming right up," the incessantly cheerful woman said. "I’ll eat my breakfast now and bring some to you in a couple of hours." She walked into the room and kissed the jumble of blonde hair that peeked from the covers. "I love you, Townsend. I love you more than ever for caring about me last night." With a gentle pat on the cheek, she turned and left, leaving Townsend to stew in her guilt, just as she had done through most of the long, dark night.

Surprisingly, Miranda offered to take the young women to dinner that night. She chose a very nice restaurant housed in a bed and breakfast, and the trio set off in the car — with Miranda driving.

Miranda was a charming companion: erudite, sociable and with a keen sense of humor. Hennessey was enjoying herself fully, and even Townsend seemed to be having a good time. But the evening turned bitter when Miranda said, "Townsend, did I mention that the headmaster of your school asked me to give the commencement address at your graduation?"

Townsend’s formerly sunny disposition darkened immediately. "What?"

Looking taken aback, Miranda repeated her comment. "Does that bother you for some reason?" she added.

"Fuck, yes, it bothers me!" Townsend spat. "Why didn’t you ask me first?"

Miranda blinked slowly, finally saying, "It didn’t dawn on me that you’d be opposed, honey. What’s the big deal? No one pays attention to what the speaker says anyway."

"It’s my God damned graduation! Not yours! If you’re there, everyone will know that you’re my mother!"

Chuckling softly, Miranda said, "Is that such a horrible crime?"

Townsend stood and fumbled in her lap for her napkin. Wadding it up, she threw it into her mother’s face, her own visage filled with rage. "Yes! It’s a fucking crime! Stay out of my life!" She violently pushed her chair against the wall, gaining the attention of the very few patrons who were not already paying rapt attention. Every pair of eyes followed the rage-filled girl stalking away, many of the diners covering their mouths to furtively reveal Miranda’s identity to their dinner companions.

To Hennessey’s astonishment, Miranda didn’t seem particularly upset. She was clearly embarrassed, but not angry, and Hennessey summoned the nerve to ask, "Uhm … are you all right, Mrs. Bartley?"

"Oh, of course, Hennessey. I’m used to it by now." Cocking her head slightly, she looked at Hennessey and asked, "Doesn’t she do that with you?"

"No, ma’am. I don’t think I’d be here if she did."

"Well, you can choose to leave, Hennessey. The state of Massachusetts frowns on parents abandoning their children — no matter how justified they may be." She said this with such wry good-humor that Hennessey was totally shocked.

"You act like it doesn’t bother you," she said, her puzzlement showing.

"She’s been like this since she was a pre-teen. One can get used to anything, Hennessey. Especially if one has to."

Hennessey put her head down and finished her entrée, not at all sure what she should do at this point. As soon as she had the last bite in her mouth, Miranda said, "If you want to go find her, go right ahead, honey. She’ll be walking along the shore. I’d guess that she’ll head north and then come back this way before she walks home. If you want to save the steps, you can just wait by the water. She’ll be along when she’s blown off some steam."

Hennessey nodded and gave her host a thin smile. "I think I’ll try to find her. If you see her before I do, tell her I went north first, okay?"

"I will, Hennessey. Now don’t take this too seriously. It’s happened more times than I can count."

"Yes, ma’am. I’ll try." Hennessey took a step, then turned back to the table. "I’m sorry for forgetting to thank you for dinner, Mrs. Bartley. It was a fantastic meal, and I truly enjoyed your company."

Miranda looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Please don’t take this the wrong way, Hennessey, but what do you see in my daughter? For that matter, I can’t understand what she sees in you. She’s never, ever aligned herself with a person with manners." She chuckled softly and added, "She’d normally make fun of a young woman like you."

With a smile, Hennessey said, "She did make fun of me at first, but after a while, she recognized that we had to get along. I wasn’t going to let her win, Mrs. Bartley. There was too much at stake."

Nodding, the older woman said nothing. Her expression made it clear that she didn’t understand what Hennessey was talking about; but she indicated just as clearly that she wasn’t about to ask.

When she got to the ocean, Hennessey removed her shoes and socks and let the chilly water wash over her feet. She set off in a northerly direction as she’d said she would, but she walked very slowly. She knew that Townsend not only had a quick fuse, but that it took her quite a while to calm down after a flare-up, and she wanted to make sure her friend was calm by the time they met.

She walked for nearly an hour, feeling just a little sorry that Townsend’s exercise capacity had gotten so much greater. Finally, in the distance, she saw her — walking with her head down and her hands shoved into her pockets. Hennessey slowed down even more, knowing from Townsend’s posture that she was still angry.

When they approached each other, the blonde looked up in surprise, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Hennessey. Without a word, she fell into the larger woman’s arms, burying her head against her chest and sobbing pitifully. Hennessey merely stroked her head and rubbed her back briskly, taking her cue from Townsend and not speaking.

After a long while, the smaller woman pulled away and took Hennessey’s hand. They walked back to the house in silence, the trip taking over an hour, even at the quick pace they maintained. Once inside, both of them went to their rooms to change into their pajamas. When Townsend came down the hall, Hennessey was lighting a fire, her attention fully engaged.

When Hennessey stood, Townsend wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the sofa. Without warning, the younger woman set upon Hennessey’s lips with a vengeance, kissing her so often and so voraciously that Hennessey instinctively pushed her away. "Hold on a minute!" she said, clearly irritated. "Don’t do that, Townsend!"

"Don’t do what?" the blonde asked. "Now I can’t kiss you?"

"Of course you can kiss me, but you can’t molest me! You’re coming at me like a dog on a meaty soup bone!"

"That’s called passion, Hennessey, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that! You only know how to say ‘no’ every time your clit starts to throb."

Stunned, the brunette gasped, "Where in the hell did that come from? Why are you angry with me?"

"I just want to fucking kiss you, Hennessey. But as usual, I have to beg for everything I get. My needs don’t count. Only yours do."

Looking down at the floor, Hennessey said quietly. "I don’t like to be kissed like that. If that’s your idea of passion, I … I don’t want it."

"Of course you don’t want it," the blonde sneered. "You don’t want it, and you don’t want me to want it."

"Townsend, I don’t think this is the night to get into this. I have no intention of getting into another scene like we had at the restaurant. Your mother wasn’t upset, but I was. That’s not how civilized people behave!"

"Oh, please! Now I’m not allowed to tell my mother what I think of her moronic plans. What else do you get to control, Hennessey? You’re already in charge of my drinking, my drug use, my nicotine use and my sex drive. Can’t I keep just one tiny thing that gives me pleasure?"

"Pleasure?" the taller woman gaped. "Yelling at your mother in public gives you pleasure? What kind of a person are you?"

Grabbing Hennessey by the lapels of her flannel pajamas, Townsend gave her a good shake. "I’m a fucked-up person from a fucked-up family. And you’re not going to be the one to fix me, Hennessey Fucking Boudreaux. You can take me as I am, or pack your God damned bag and go back to your God damned Ivy League school and suck on some socially acceptable pussy!"

Closing her eyes against the pain, Hennessey yanked away from Townsend’s strong grip and walked down the hall to her room, her tears obscuring her faltering path.

Hennessey didn’t sleep a wink; she merely lay in bed and tried to think of what to do. Hating to do it, but not having any better ideas, she picked up the phone and dialed the Al-Anon sponsor she’d just begun to work with. "Angela?" she asked, grimacing. "It’s Hennessey. I know it’s far, far too late to call you, but I’m in a terrible bind."

"It’s all right, Hennessey. Uhm … let me get up and get something to drink. Call me back in five minutes, okay?"

"Are you sure, Angela? I hate to do this to you , "

"Hey, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re having a tough time. Now, go get a mug of that tea you’re always drinking and call me back."

"Okay. Thanks, Angela. I really mean that."

After speaking to Angela for nearly an hour, Hennessey felt resolved about what she should do. Actually, Angela had merely agreed with the plan of action that Hennessey had decided upon, but it was very, very reassuring to have an impartial third-party support her. She knew that Townsend wouldn’t be asleep, so she put on her slippers and went down the hall, finding the fire low — but no trace of Townsend. Going back down the hall, she tried Townsend’s door, but found it locked. Well, maybe it’s best to wait until morning. Maybe she was able to sleep once she vented her spleen. Going back to her room, Hennessey lay in bed until it was nearly dawn, repeatedly singing a few old lullabies that her grandmother had lulled her to sleep with.

When Hennessey woke, it was after 11:00, and she felt as if she had a massive hangover. Hungry, thirsty and grouchy, she took a shower and got dressed, then checked on Townsend. The door was still locked, but she didn’t have the patience to wait any longer. With a soft knock, she said, "Townsend, it’s time to get up now."

When her gentle prodding received no response, she increased the force and the frequency of her rapping until she was pounding on the door. "Townsend, I’m not fooling around. Either open the damned door, or I’ll kick it in." You know you don’t have the strength to kick in a door, you idiot, and she knows it, too. "Fine. Just stay there and pout. I’m going to get something to eat."

Stomping loudly out of the house, she snuck around to the back of the structure and stopped in shock when she saw that Townsend’s window was wide open. Shimmying behind a huge lilac bush, she poked her head in the window to find the room empty. Great! Just great! How in the hell long has she been gone?

Jogging to the main house, she prowled around the first floor, seeing no evidence of Townsend’s having been there. Now what? Walking upstairs, she found only one door closed. Knocking on it but getting no response, she opened it, nonetheless, to find Miranda sound asleep, the blanket pulled up to her neck. "Mrs. Bartley," she said softly. Going closer and closer and speaking louder and louder, Hennessey found herself shaking the woman while calling her name loudly.

Finally, the muzzy green eyes opened halfway. "What?" she managed to get out before the eyes closed again.

"Mrs. Bartley, have you seen Townsend? She’s missing."

"Oh." The woman sat up as well as she could and blinked her eyes a few times. "Missing, huh?" Miranda smacked her lips together, while Hennessey tried to restrain herself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "Don’t worry, she always does this after a fight. She’ll show up at some point. Don’t let her worry you — it doesn’t do any good."

"Not worry me? Not worry me? Jesus Christ, Mrs. Bartley, don’t you know how hard it is for her to stay sober?"

"I told you that the odds weren’t good, Hennessey. She’s always been a self-destructive child. I think you’re wasting your time, to be honest, honey."

"Yeah, I obviously am," Hennessey grumbled, heading for the door.

Deciding to be systematic, Hennessey started at the far end of town. She locked up the bike and started to survey every business that was open. Since it was now past noon, most were either open or just opening.

Going into a café, she showed the woman at the front a picture of Townsend and asked if she’d seen her. "Oh, I know her, but I haven’t seen her lately. What’s she done now?"

Letting out a resigned sigh, Hennessey shook her head. "Nothing. She’s my friend, and I’m worried about her."

"You should be," the woman said, giving Hennessey the same look Miranda had.

The next dozen businesses provided no clues, and Hennessey sucked in a breath and steeled her nerves when she entered a dark, run-down bar. She hated to enter this kind of place, mostly because it reminded her of long evenings looking for her father when he hadn’t returned home for a day or two. Approaching the grizzled, gruff-looking man at the bar, she held up the picture and asked, "Have you seen this woman recently?"

"Not since 2:00 a.m.," he said, continuing to polish the thick, old beer mug that his ministrations were having no visible affect on.

"She was here until you closed?" Hennessey asked, feeling like she would either vomit or cry.

"No, she was here until I called the sheriff. The little slut was hiding in the corner, getting soused. A pretty little whore like her can always find a couple of dunces to buy her drinks all night."

"She’s seventeen years old," Hennessey said, her voice shaking with anger and sorrow.

"Hell, I know how old she is. Everybody on the island knows how old she is. That’s why I called the cops. I’m not about to lose my license over that piece of shit."

A large part of Hennessey wanted to climb over the bar and make him regret what he’d said about Townsend, but another part knew that the man probably had good reason to think so poorly of her partner. Feeling more defeated than she could ever remember, Hennessey asked, "Which way to the sheriff’s station?"

The bartender put down his mug and his rag and looked at Hennessey for a few moments. "Why would a nice-looking girl like you want to get mixed up with the likes of her? Do yourself a favor, honey, and let her sit until one of her parents goes to get her. You can find better friends on this island."

Hennessey looked him right in the eye and said the words she’d never said to anyone but Townsend. "I’m with her because I love her."

"Hi," Hennessey said to the neatly turned out young woman sitting at a desk in the small station.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Are you holding Townsend Bartley here?"

The deputy sheriff’s eyebrows shot up so quickly that they nearly disappeared under the low, wide brim of her hat. "Yes, we are. Are you her …?"

"I’m her friend. How do I go about getting her released?"

"If you’re not her attorney or her parent, I’m afraid you can’t. We can’t just let her sleep it off this time," the woman said with what looked like true regret. "Driving without a license, falsifying her age, public intoxication and possession of a controlled substance." She shook her head. "We can’t let her walk away from this one. Do you know how to reach her parents?"

Fighting back tears, Hennessey nodded. Surprisingly, the woman pushed a side chair towards Hennessey and said, "Have a seat."

Hennessey did so, shaking visibly. The deputy handed her a tissue and said, "She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?"

"Yes," Hennessey got out as the tears started to fall.

"You must be Hennessey," the young woman said. "She’s been calling for you and apologizing all night long. First time I’ve ever heard her do that."

"We love each other," Hennessey said, unafraid of the woman’s reaction.

"I can see that," she said gently. Leaning forward, she asked, "Do you know how troubled she is, Hennessey?"

Nodding, the younger woman said, "I do."

The deputy reached out and gripped her shoulder, giving it brief, but firm pressure. "I hope things work out for you, but it’s gonna be a very tough road. This girl needs help — lots of help. She’s determined to kill herself — the hard way."

"I know it’s going to be hard," Hennessey admitted, the magnitude of the difficulty that faced them hitting her with full force, "but I believe in her."

The older woman gazed at her for a minute and gave her a half-smile. "Maybe that’ll be enough." Standing, she said, "I can let you see her, but her parents are going to have to come bail her out. Is her mother at their home?"

"Yes, but she’s sleeping. She won’t wake up until about 4:00."

Once again the deputy’s eyebrows popped up to the tan felt of her hat. "Well, I’ve left many messages. I guess she’ll get them then."

"Can I stay with her?" Hennessey asked.

Looking at her watch, the woman said, "I go off duty at 6:00. I can let you stay until my replacement comes in. He wouldn’t like my giving Townsend any special favors."

Wiping at tears again, Hennessey asked, "Doesn’t anyone on this island like her?"

"Not many good people have reason to, Hennessey. The ones who do like her aren’t the kinds of people you’d want her to associate with."

Nodding slowly, Hennessey followed the woman into the lock-up, staring at the crisp crease that ran down the back of her tan uniform shirt — concentrating hard so she wasn’t tempted to cry again.

There were two cells, and only one was occupied — by a slight, frail, pale body. Townsend was wearing only a set of hospital-green scrubs, and her color nearly matched the tone of the fabric. There wasn’t another thing in the cell save for a bare mattress. The young woman looked cold and ill; Hennessy’s suspicion was verified when she saw the nearby clear, plastic container that held some of the contents of her lover’s stomach. Hennessey turned to the deputy with a stunned expression. "She’s sick and she’s freezing!" she whispered, trying not to wake Townsend up.

"I know that, but I was afraid she was a suicide risk, given how she was acting. I’d rather have her cold than dead."

"I’ll be with her," Hennessey said. "Can you please get her a blanket?"

"Sure. I’ll get one right now. Just sit tight." She went to the far end of the hall, leaving Hennessey to stare at her lover. Never had Townsend looked worse, and for a few moments, Hennessey wished she hadn’t come — to the lock-up; to the beach house; to Boston. But she swallowed her disappointment and dread and tried to put on a positive front for Townsend.

The deputy returned with the blanket and Hennessey gratefully accepted it. "How long ago did she vomit?"

"I’ve been checking on her every fifteen minutes, so not very long. I’ll bring her a new cup in case she needs it."

"Is there anything you can give her? Something for her stomach?"

"No, we’re not allowed to. It’s probably best for her to get rid of everything, anyway. I’m sure she’ll be all right."

"Could I go to the store and buy her some Gatorade, or something like that? She’s got to be dehydrated."

Making a face, the older woman hesitated, then found herself unable to refuse the earnest young woman’s request. "Okay. Just don’t bring any kind of medication back with you. No aspirin — nothing!"

"I won’t," Hennessey promised, running out of the station as quickly as she could.

A few minutes later she was back, and Hennessey dutifully showed the deputy that she’d brought only a quart of an orange-flavored sports drink. "I left the cell open," the woman said. "Go on in."

For some reason, Hennessey felt better to have the confident older woman by her side, but she smiled nervously and went back, approaching the cell with trepidation. Townsend hadn’t moved, but the cup had been replaced with a new one. Hennessey knew that she should wake her lover, but she was dreading the morning after the promises and self-recriminations that she’d heard far too many of during her short life. So she tucked the thin blanket around Townsend’s shivering body and quietly sat down on the other bed. Townsend instinctively hugged the blanket to her body, looking so frail and broken and young that Hennessey started to cry again. She cried for Townsend and for herself and for her father and her mother and all of the millions of others who were affected by this crippling, soul-killing disease. Nearly an hour passed, and Hennessey’s tears were nearly exhausted when Townsend moaned loudly, then dropped her head over the side of the squeaky bed, grasping for the plastic container.

In a moment, Hennessey was at her side, holding her stringy hair up and out of the way, while the younger woman retched pathetically, choking up nothing but the last remaining ounces of her stomach acid.

Townsend fell back onto the bed, her body now covered in sweat. Panting from exhaustion, she managed to focus and mutter, "Hennessey?"

"Yes, honey, it’s me," the older woman murmured. She took off her sweatshirt and pulled Townsend into an upright position, then removed the sweaty, green, oversized top from the ill woman. Wiping at her pale, nude body, Hennessey managed to dry her off, then slipped the warm, clean shirt over her head. "Can you put your arms through the sleeves, baby?"

"No," Townsend said in a voice that sounded like a child’s.

Hennessey helped her with the task, then smoothed her hair back and lowered her to the bed. "You rest for a minute. I’ll get you a clean cup in case you’re sick again." Hennessey was gone for just a moment, and when she returned, she had not just a new cup, but a cool cloth. Working gently but efficiently, she used the cloth to wipe the younger woman’s fevered brow, then cooled her down by wrapping it around the back of her neck. "I’m gonna help you to sit up, and then you’re gonna to drink some of this stuff," she said.

"Oh, God, I can’t," Townsend moaned. "I’ll throw up again."

"You might, but at least you’ll have something in your stomach. That last batch was just stomach acid, baby."

Townsend didn’t argue; she just lay limply in Hennessey’s arms while the larger woman gently poured a small amount of the liquid into her open mouth. Abruptly, she sat up, proclaiming, "It’s coming right back up." Her stomach lurched, and she gagged soundlessly for a full minute, but nothing else came out of her mouth. Soon she was lying in Hennessey’s arms, once more drenched with sweat. "Oh, God, I’m gonna die."

"No, you’re not," Hennessey said firmly. "Not on my watch, you’re not."

Blinking at the older woman, Townsend finally realized where they were and why they were there. The tears then began, and Hennessey hugged her tighter, knowing they were in for a very long afternoon.

At 5:45, the deputy came in and announced, "I’m going off duty in fifteen minutes, Hennessey. You’re going to have to leave."

"Has her mother answered yet?" Hennessey asked.

"No, I just tried again."

Summoning all of her strength, Townsend stopped sobbing and asked, "Have you called my attorney?"

"Uhm … no, you didn’t tell me you had one."

"James Callaghan," she said. "He’s in the book."

"Oh, I know his number," the woman said. "I’ll see what I can do." Hennessey gathered up her things, taking the empty sports bottle and looking regretfully at her shirt. "You’d better give me back my shirt. The new guy won’t like it."

Townsend looked down and nodded, crying once again. Taking off the large shirt made her look so young and yet so old. She slipped the huge scrub shirt back on, then looked up at Hennessey helplessly. "I’ll wait outside until your attorney comes," Hennessey said. "Hang in there, baby."

"How … how can you still love me?" she asked, her voice shaking roughly.

With her face filled with sorrow, Hennessey gently stroked the pale, trembling cheek. "How can you not love yourself?"

Mr. Callaghan dutifully arrived no more than fifteen minutes after he’d been called. Hennessey sat on the rough, weathered stairs of the station after having been given a chilly reception by the deputy sheriff who’d just come on duty. A short time later, Townsend emerged, looking rumpled and grouchy and in pain. She was followed by her attorney, a distinguished looking older gentleman, wearing an immaculately tailored blue suit and a gold and navy rep tie. "Well, Townsend, this little scrape will require quite a few feathers to be smoothed, but I don’t anticipate too much trouble."

Townsend nodded, then grimaced, regretting the sudden motion. "Thanks, Jim. I’ll be sure to tell my grandfather how helpful you’ve been."

He smiled at her and patted her gently on the back. "Take care of yourself, Townsend. I’ll let you know how everything turns out."

She gave him a weak wave as he glided down the stairs and strode along the wooden sidewalk. "I would have introduced you, but I hope we never have to see him again," Townsend said, her voice filled with fatigue.

"That’s all right," Hennessey replied, even though she would never have failed to introduce anyone she knew to Townsend. "Ready to go home?"

"No. I can’t bear to." She looked up at Hennessey and asked, "Could we possibly go back to Boston? I feel safer there."

"All right," Hennessey said without hesitation. "Where do you want to go?"

"Is your roommate gone?"

"Yeah. She’ll be back Sunday night."

"Let’s go to Harvard," Townsend suggested.

Hennessey wasn’t sure why she did it, but she agreed. "Let’s go get our things."

"Leave ‘em," Townsend declared. "I’ll have Mother bring them back with her."

Hennessey gave her partner a long look, then said, "My entire winter wardrobe is in that bag, Townsend. I’d really like to be able to change clothes before Sunday."

Blinking slowly, Townsend grimaced and said, "I’m sorry. I didn’t think …"

"S’all right," Hennessey said. "But I need to go back, and you need to tell your mother that we’re leaving."

"She won’t care…" Townsend began, only to be stopped by Hennessey’s sharp look.

"I care. And you should, too." Squaring her shoulders, she began to walk down the sidewalk, leaving Townsend in her dust.

Their departure was much quicker than Hennessey could ever have imagined leaving her own home, but the Bartley’s were so little like her own family that it was hard to make meaningful comparisons between the two groups. Miranda allowed them to take the Mercedes that Townsend had driven into town the night before, not even caring to ask what had happened to cause them to leave so abruptly.

Hennessey drove, even though Townsend maintained that she’d been driving without a license since she was sixteen, and that the previous night had been the only time she’d been caught. The older woman didn’t comment on the fact that Townsend could have had a license at sixteen if she’d not been caught driving without one at fifteen.

Hennessey had to concentrate on her driving, since traffic was fairly heavy and she didn’t know the way. But after the car was on the ferry to Woods Hole, there were no excuses for the complete silence that reigned.

"How angry are you?" Townsend asked after staring at the water for many minutes.

"Angry? I’m not angry," Hennessey said, giving her friend a perplexed look.

"Oh, come on, Hennessey. Anyone in her right mind would be angry with me. Come on, be honest!"

Hennessey shook her head in an irritated gesture. "I am being honest. Don’t try to put emotions onto me that I’m not feeling."

"Fine." Townsend walked to the stern and stood alone, not moving until it was time to reclaim the car. The whole process took quite a few minutes, but the women did not break the tense silence. Just moments after departing, however, Hennessey pulled the car into a parking lot and turned off the engine.

"Come on, let’s go for a walk. We need to talk a little bit."

"We could have talked on the ferry," Townsend grumbled.

As soon as they were both out of the car, Hennessey took the younger woman’s hand and looked deep into her eyes. "Townsend, I care about you, and I care about your privacy. I would never have a personal discussion like that aboard a crowded boat. Now come on, have a little more self-respect."

"I didn’t even consider that," the blonde mumbled, looking away from Hennessey’s penetrating stare.

"Let’s take that walk," the taller woman said, draping her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

As they walked along, Hennessey began to speak in a quiet, reflective voice. "I have an uncle — my mother’s brother Cletus - who’s schizophrenic." Townsend gave her a curious look, and Hennessey laughed softly. "I don’t think I have the best genes for procreating. I think I’d better adopt."

"You have wonderful genes, baby. And yours must be dominant for you to avoid some of the problems that your family members have."

"Yeah, well, I don’t know about that," the taller woman said. "But back to my uncle. He does fairly well most of the time, but every once in a while he starts acting crazy. Sometimes there’s no warning at all, sometimes he’s forgotten to take his meds for a couple of days, and sometimes it’s a sign that his meds need adjustment."

"Uhm … I guess that makes sense," Townsend said. "But why are we talking about this now?"

"Because I’m trying to explain to you why I’m not angry with you for having a slip."

"Go on," Townsend said warily. "Although I don’t think I want to know that you think I’m mentally ill."

"I don’t, Townsend," Hennessey said. "But the fact is that both you and my Uncle Cletus have a disease. You both have to be very vigilant to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves and monitoring your medication — but even when you do that faithfully, you’re going to have a long period of trial and error until you get it all sorted out."

"My medication?"

"Yeah, your medication is working your program faithfully. Your meds got screwed up when Sharon had her slip. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have gone on vacation together right after you’d lost your sponsor. That was a set-up, baby, and I regret that I didn’t recognize it before it happened."

With her voice breaking, Townsend said, "But it meant so much to me to see you, Hennessey."

"I know that, baby, but look what happened. You had a major slip, you got arrested and now you feel like shit about yourself. Was it worth it?"

"It’s … it’s worth anything I have to do to be with you, Hennessey. Anything."

Squeezing her shoulders, Hennessey said, "I had a feeling you’d say that." She dropped a soft kiss on the crown of Townsend’s head and said, "We’ve got a long drive back to Boston. We’d better get shakin’, huh?"

"Okay." Townsend faced her partner and draped her arms around her waist. "Are we going to be all right?"

"Yeah," Hennessey said, smiling confidently. "We’ll be fine."

Hennessey was driving more aggressively than her usual laid-back style, and Townsend finally commented, "Are we in a hurry?"

"Uhm … yeah," Hennessey said, quickly checking her watch. "I want to make my meeting. It’s at 8:00."

"Your meeting?"

"Uh-huh." She shot a quick glance at Townsend. "I’ve started to go to Al-Anon meetings. I’ve just started to work with a sponsor, and I could use a little boost tonight."

Townsend was silent for quite a while, taking in the impact of Hennessey’s words. "This is as hard on you as it is on me, isn’t it?"

"I don’t know," the brunette said. "I’ve never been in your position, Townsend. I only know what it’s like to love an alcoholic — not be one."

"Have you ever been drunk?" Townsend asked.

"No, no, I haven’t, and I never will be. I’ve had a beer with a good oyster bake, but that’s it. With a pair of alcoholic parents, I’m not ever going to take that risk."

"I wish I hadn’t," Townsend said wistfully.

Once they were in Hennessey’s small room, Townsend put her bag on the bed that didn’t hold the large teddy bear she had sent Hennessey. "Is it okay if I sleep here?"

"Sure. I’ll wash the sheets before Robin comes back. She won’t mind."

"Do you mind if I crash while you’re gone? I’m not feeling so hot."

Hennessey hesitated, then stopped herself from saying what she’d wanted to say. "Sure. You just take it easy. I’m sure you’re wrung out."

"Do you want to get some dinner after your meeting?"

"Uhm … I need some time with my sponsor, babe, and if she can spare it, I’m going to ask her to stop for a snack. Besides, you shouldn’t have much in that raw tummy of yours. I’ll bring you back some dry cereal or a bagel."

Townsend shrugged. "Okay." She lay down fully clothed, and by the time Hennessey was ready to leave, the younger woman was already breathing heavily.

"G’night," Hennessey whispered, blowing her a kiss.

Angela and Hennessey sat in an all-night diner not far from the church hall where the meeting had been held. "If anything else could have gone wrong this week, I’d hate to know what it was," Hennessey said, stirring some cream into her tea.

"It sounds like hell, Hennessey. I’m really sorry you had to go through that."

"Yeah, I am, too, but I’m more sorry for Townsend. When she starts to deal with her slip, she’s gonna be very hard on herself."

Raising an eyebrow, Angela asked, "She hasn’t started dealing with it yet?"

Hennessey shook her head, staring into her tea. Angela didn’t say a thing, so Hennessey finally broke the silence. "I wanted her to go to a meeting, but I didn’t want to push her." She looked across the room, unable to meet Angela’s eyes. "Neither of us went to a meeting this week."

The silence ticked on for what seemed like minutes, but was likely moments. "You have to decide how serious you are about her, Hennessey. If you’re truly serious, you’d better get your butt to a meeting every day. Hell, twice a day isn’t out of the question. Fighting your urges to take care of this woman is going to take every bit of your resolve."

"I know," she said, her head bowed. "I know that now more than ever."

Part 7

The next morning, Hennessey woke up to a pair of cold feet pressing against her shins. Blinking slowly, she rolled onto her other side, and drew Townsend’s arm around her waist. "Nice," she murmured. "Feels good."

A warm face pressed against the back of her neck, and Townsend placed a kiss there. "Go to sleep, baby. It’s still early."

"Hug me tight," Hennessey murmured. "Don’t let go."

"I won’t. I promise I won’t," Townsend said, placing another kiss on her neck. "I’ll always hold you close."

The sunlight was streaming in the window when Hennessey woke again, and as she turned her head, she was greeted by Townsend — smiling warmly at her. "Hi. I thought you were gonna sleep all day, but I didn’t mind a bit. It’s so nice holding you this way that I wouldn’t care if we never got up."

"Oh, sure you would," Hennessey said, bounding out of bed. "Be right back." She made a mad dash for the bathroom, leaving a smiling Townsend to lie back down after rolling over to feel the warmth of the recently vacated spot. Expecting her partner to come back to bed for a more leisurely wake up, Townsend’s eyes narrowed when she heard the shower start. A few minutes later, Hennessey came out, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. "Shower felt great. You can use it now, if you want."

"I thought you might like to cuddle a little more," Townsend said, pouting.

"No. Once I’m awake, I’m ready to go. Besides, I have a lot of things on my agenda for today. It’s time to get rolling." She went to her small dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a bright red, fleece top. "Do you want to get in the shower, or can I have the bathroom again?"

"I’ll go," Townsend said, realizing that she wasn’t going to get her way.

Over breakfast, Hennessey gazed at her partner with a neutral smile and asked, "How are you going to go about finding a new sponsor?"

Shrugging, Townsend said, "I don’t really know. Sharon suggested somebody, but I don’t like him."

"Uh-huh."

Giving her a perturbed look, Townsend said, "I’m new to this stuff, ya know. I thought your sponsor was supposed to be reliable!"

Hennessey reached across the table and lightly gripped the blonde’s hand. "Sponsors are struggling with the same disease that you are, Townsend. They’re human, too."

The younger woman dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her face roughly. "I know that," she said, her voice sounding old and tired. "But I depended on Sharon. She let me down." Not saying a word, Hennessey gazed at her partner until Townsend’s head lifted. "I … let you down, too," Townsend said, her voice beginning to shake. "God damn me, Hennessey, I was so sure I could do this."

"You can and you will," Hennessey said. "But you’ve got to get comfortable with the fact that it’s not ever a smooth road."

"But what do I do?"

"You find a new sponsor — as soon as possible. Then, you start all over again. You go back to step one and start fresh."

Townsend’s lower lip started to tremble, and she sniffed, "I have to give my chips back, don’t I?"

With a gentle smile, Hennessey nodded. "You’ll have to earn them again, baby."

"They mean so much to me," Townsend said, beginning to sob. "I keep my six-month chip in my pocket and rub it when I feel tempted."

"I’m so sorry, Townsend. You have no idea how sorry I am that you had a slip."

"I didn’t have a slip. I had a crash."

"No, you didn’t," Hennessey said with conviction. "You can get up and start over. Nothing is broken; there’s no lasting harm. It was a slip."

Townsend wiped at her eyes and said, "Can we get out of here? People are staring at me."

"Sure. I’ll pay the check. You wait outside."

A few moments later, Hennessey took Townsend’s hand and said, "How are you planning on getting back to school on Sunday?"

"I have a late night flight. Why?"

"’Cause I don’t think we should wait until then. I think we should go today."

"Huh? Why?"

"’Cause you need to find a new sponsor, and it would be great if you could get that taken care of before school starts on Monday. I think we should spend the weekend trying to get you settled."

"But my school’s closed for break," Townsend said.

"Uh-huh. Like that would stop you if this were something you wanted to do," Hennessey said, giving her a wry smile. "You can buy us a hotel room."

"Damn, I know you’re serious when you let me pay for things," Townsend muttered.

"I’ve told you before, Townsend, I’ll never joke about your sobriety."

Even though the younger woman insisted that it wasn’t necessary, Hennessey urged her to call her mother and tell her of her change of plans. They agreed that Hennessey would drop Townsend off, and that Miranda would have someone come get the car when Hennessey returned to Cambridge.

Driving up the turnpike, Hennessey said, "Well, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us. How do you want to pass the time? I know," she said before Townsend could begin to answer, "let’s talk about what was going on in your head that made you want to drink."

"That sounds like fun," Townsend grumbled. "Are you always this lively on car trips?"

"Yep. Just my natural charm. Now, I know this is hard for you, but we haven’t really talked about it. It might help to get it off your chest."

"All right." Townsend curled up in the large, leather seat, tucking her feet under her body. Reclining her seatback, she faced her friend and stared at the side of her face for a long time. "I think better when I’m looking at something pretty," she explained when Hennessey gave her a puzzled look.

"Good answer," the brunette said.

Townsend fidgeted in her chair, then reclined it significantly. Contorting her body into a series of interesting positions, she finally sighed and said, "I don’t know if you’re the right person to talk to about this."

Hennessey gave her a puzzled look and said, "It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it now, but you should talk about it with someone. Soon."

"I know, I know. I … uhm … think I need to talk to someone who isn’t so involved … ya know?"

"Of course I do," Hennessey said. "That’s why I want to make sure you have a sponsor. You need someone to talk to, honey."

"I get that; I really do. But … there’s something that’s been bothering me, Hennessey, and as much as I don’t want to talk about it, I think I have to."

"Go for it," Hennessey said. "I’m ready."

"You might be, but I’m not," Townsend grumbled.

"Come on, babe; if something’s bothering you, I want to know about it."

Townsend was staring at the ceiling, but she reached out and touched Hennessey’s shoulder. "Okay. Here goes. I’m feeling like shit because of the way I treated you the other night."

"The other night?"

"Yeah … when we almost … you know."

Hennessey turned her head and gave her partner a smile. "We’ll get there, honey. You showed the other night that you understand that it’s important to wait until we’re both ready."

"I did not," Townsend’s quiet voice muttered.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I didn’t stop because I understand that it’s important to wait. I stopped because I … felt that I’d tricked you into going as far as we did."

"Tricked me? Townsend, what in the hell are you talking about? How do you trick someone into … that?"

Smacking her forehead with her open palm, Townsend moaned, "Damn, Hennessey, sometimes you’re as naïve as a child. It’s incredibly easy to trick someone into going further than they want. I’ve been doing it for years!"

With deep hurt showing in her eyes, Hennessey spared a quick glance at her partner. "You did that … to me?"

"Yes, damn it, I did that to you."

"Fuck," the brunette muttered. "Fuck."

Neither woman said another word, the silence heavy and oppressive in the car. At the first exit, Hennessey pulled off and stopped the car as soon as she found a quiet spot. She rolled the window down and relaxed her seatback, leaning back and staring out the window for a while. "Tell me what happened that night," she finally said. "I want to know everything."

"It’s not that complex. You seemed receptive, and I decided to keep pushing you until I got what I wanted."

Turning to face her partner, Hennessey said, "That’s not what happened. You didn’t push me at all, as a matter of fact. To be honest, that was the first time that I didn’t feel like I had to be on guard."

"Oh, Hennessey," Townsend sighed, "that’s when you have to be more careful. A user like me makes you feel like it’s your idea, but it’s not. I manipulated you to get you there — it’s as simple as that."

"But … but why would you do that to me?" Hennessey asked, her voice breaking. "You know I didn’t want to go that far."

"But I did," Townsend said, her voice taking on the hard tone that Hennessey hadn’t heard since summer. "I wanted to have sex with you, and when I saw the opportunity, I jumped at it."

"You don’t do that to someone you love," Hennessey said. "You just don’t."

"But I do love you," Townsend said. "I do, Hennessey."

The dark head shook slowly. "Love isn’t what you say. Love is what you do. Trying to trick me into having sex wasn’t a loving thing to do, Townsend. It wasn’t."

"I know that," the blonde said. "That’s why I stopped. I couldn’t go through with it. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t go through with it."

Hennessey paused, then wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Do you mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"That this was the first time in your entire life that you couldn’t go through with having sex?"

"Uhm … yeah, I guess I do," Townsend nodded, her shame nearly overwhelming her.

Suddenly, Hennessey’s tears stopped, and she turned to her partner and reached out to touch her cheek. "That’s a very, very good sign," she said softly. "Whenever you break a habit like that, it’s a good sign, Townsend. Don’t you see that?"

"No. All I see is that I treated you like I treated every piece of street trash I’ve ever fucked."

"That’s not true," Hennessey said, her voice sharp and low. "You stopped to think about my feelings and how it would affect me. I think you stopped to think about your feelings, too," she added. "I don’t think you wanted that on your conscience."

"I don’t have a conscience," Townsend muttered.

"You’re developing one," Hennessey said. "The only thing that stopped us from having sex was your conscience — not mine. My conscience and my self-control were gone, Townsend. But your conscience was on the job — watching out for me … and for us." She leaned over and wrapped her arms around her lover. "That was a loving act. A very loving act."

"But it sure as hell wasn’t my first instinct," Townsend groused.

"No, it wasn’t, but consciences are developed. They don’t spring to life fully formed. You’ll get there, Townsend. I know you will."

"Damn," the smaller woman sighed. "Sometimes I think this is too much for me to handle. I have to worry about drinking and doing drugs and smoking and sex; and now I’ve got to develop a conscience. I don’t know how I’ll have time to sleep."

Hennessey pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. "I know it’s a lot. And you’re right; it might be too much to handle all at once. Maybe there’s a way to simplify things a little bit."

"I’m ready to start having sex any time you are," Townsend said, a small smile twitching at her lips. "That would take care of one item."

"Wouldn’t that be nice?" Hennessey said, her voice taking on a wistful tone. "I wish it were that easy. You don’t know how much I wish that."

Hennessey had decided to be as agreeable as humanly possible, knowing that this was going to be a hard weekend for her partner. She not only didn’t say a word when Townsend directed her to a very opulent country inn, she kept her discomfort to herself when they were shown to their room. "Nice bed," she said, sitting on the edge of the queen-sized mattress. "Nice room, too," she added, looking around the beautifully appointed place.

"This is where my parents stayed when they had me committed here," Townsend said. "It’s the nicest place in the area."

"I would think so," Hennessey said, nodding agreeably. "So, what’s on the agenda?"

"Uhm … I think you’re the one with agenda," Townsend said. "We’d still be in Boston if I were running the show."

"Good point." Hennessey patted the bed, urging Townsend to join her. "I think you ought to give Sharon a call and talk to her at length about finding another sponsor. See if she has any suggestions for other people … maybe see why she thought the first guy she mentioned was tops on her list."

"Okay. She’s usually home on Saturdays. Then what?"

"Let’s see what comes of your discussion. Then we can decide what to do next. Oh. What time is your regular meeting?"

"I usually go to two on Saturday. I’ve missed the morning meeting, and the other one’s at 5:00."

"Cool. That gives us a lot of time to work with. You make your call. I’ll wait down in the lobby."

"You don’t have to …"

"Sure I do. You and Sharon deserve privacy, honey. Come get me when you’re done."

Nearly a half hour later, Townsend flopped down on the settee, startling the contemplative Hennessey. "Damn! You really do make an entrance," the brunette said, patting her racing heart.

"Sorry. I’m frustrated. Sharon was no help at all."

"What happened?"

"Oh, she said she thought I should talk to Art before I made up my mind. She’s certain that he’s the right kind of guy for me — but I can’t stand him, honey. He irritates the shit out of me!"

"Hmm … I wonder why she’s so sure that he’s the right guy for you."

"I don’t know. I think she just doesn’t know anyone else."

"Do you have his number?"

"Yeah."

"Why don’t you call him and talk to him. Maybe there’s a good reason that Sharon’s urging you to try him out."

Townsend rolled her eyes. "I knew that’s what you’d say, and I already did it. We’re meeting at three o’clock. He said that you should come, too."

"I love a woman who can read my mind," Hennessey said, smiling brightly.

"I can’t read your mind, Hennessey. You’re just totally predictable — and that’s not something you should be so damned proud of!"

When they walked into the quiet coffee shop, Townsend gave an unenthusiastic wave to a bearded, bespectacled, beret-wearing man who was sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant. When they approached, Townsend said, "Hi, Art. This is Hennessey. Hennessey — Art."

Hennessey extended her hand, and it was quickly enveloped in a large, muscular, callused hand. "Hi, Hennessey. Have a seat."

Hennessey spent a moment looking at Art, guessing he was in his mid to late forties. He looked quite a bit like a beatnik, or what Hennessey guessed a beatnik would look like from the pictures she’d seen of the Beat Generation writers of the fifties.

"Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Art," Townsend said. "I’ve had a bad week, and I really need to get back on track."

He gave her a neutral look. "I don’t want to talk about anything too personal right now, Townsend. If we talk, and I decide I can work with you, then we’ll go into detail. But right now, I want to get to know you a little bit. I want to see how serious you are about staying sober."

Hennessey could see Townsend’s hackles start to rise, but she didn’t say a word. She knew there was nothing she could do to make this easier for Townsend, so she bided her time and sat back to observe.

"I’m very serious about staying sober," the blonde said, her face turning a shade darker. "I’ve been sober for nine months. Or … I had been," she admitted. "I guess now I should say that I’ve been sober for two days."

"Uh-huh," Art said, tossing his mostly gray ponytail over his shoulder. "I take it you had a slip."

"Yeah. A big one," Townsend admitted, staring at the table.

"All right," he said. Turning to Hennessey, he asked, "How do you fit in here?"

"I’m Townsend’s lover," she said.

"Lover, huh? How long have you two been together?"

"We met last June, and we’ve been … involved since August."

Art furrowed his brow, then said, "Math isn’t my thing, but doesn’t that mean you’ve been together ever since Townsend stopped … or tried to stop … drinking?"

"Yeah, it does. We were together when she stopped."

"Hennessey helped me stop," Townsend volunteered. "She’s the only good influence I’ve ever had in my life."

Art gave Townsend a half-smile and said, "I guess everyone deserves one in her life."

"Well, Hennessey’s mine," the young woman said, a note of defiance in her voice.

"Uh-huh. Tell me something about yourself, Hennessey."

"Well, I’m from South Carolina, and I’m in Boston going to school."

"Do you have much experience in dealing with alcoholics?" he asked.

With a pained look, she said, "Too much. Both of my parents are alcoholics. Neither has ever been in recovery."

"Uh-huh. How about your past relationships? What kind of people have you been with?"

Clearly irritated, Townsend interjected, "Is Hennessey the one looking for a sponsor?"

"No," Art said, his patient, laid-back demeanor obviously driving Townsend mad. "I just want to see the whole picture."

"I don’t mind talking about this," Hennessey said. "Townsend is my first lover. She’s … the first person I’ve ever even kissed."

This revelation didn’t seem to surprise Art, but then, nothing did. "So, a girl from an alcoholic home chooses an alcoholic to partner with. That’s a first."

"Look," Hennessey said, "I know it looks like I’m following the usual pattern, but I’ve spent a lot of time in Al-Anon, and I’ve gotten back into it recently. I’m working with a sponsor now, and I think I can maintain my boundaries."

"Everyone thinks that, Hennessey. Not many can, but everyone thinks she can."

"I’m sure that’s true," the brunette admitted.

"Now let’s talk about you," Art said, turning to Townsend. "I’ve seen you at a lot of meetings, and I bet you’ve heard the warning about not getting involved with anyone during your first year of sobriety. What makes you think you’re exempt?"

"I’m not exempt," she snapped. "Hennessey and I knew each other while I was still drinking. It was a natural evolution. I didn’t get involved with her after I stopped — it was concurrent."

"That doesn’t make it right, and that doesn’t make it good for you," Art said bluntly.

"Yes, it does," Townsend insisted. "I could never stay sober without Hennessey!"

The older man was quiet for a moment. Then he looked from one woman to the other. "I rest my case."

"No! That’s ridiculous! Hennessey supports me; she’s always there for me, and she always urges me to do the right thing!"

"Uh-huh. That would be fine if Hennessey were your sponsor. But she’s not. She’s your lover. And if you two break up — and you probably will — your sobriety goes with her. Does anything about that seem intelligent?"

"No," Hennessey answered, surprising Townsend.

"Hennessey! How could you say that?" Townsend burst into tears, sobbing so loudly that the other patrons stared at her.

The larger woman put her arm around her partner and murmured into her ear, "Art’s right, Townsend. We shouldn’t have gotten involved when we did. I blame myself for that. I knew better — but I couldn’t resist."

"So you regret being with me?" the blonde sobbed.

"No, no, not in the least. But we can’t act like this is an ideal situation. It’s not. I’m only trying to be honest, Townsend. We have to be honest."

"Do you love me?" Townsend asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes, of course I do. I always will," Hennessey promised. "But that doesn’t mean that everything will be smooth and easy. It’s going to be hard for us — and harder for you to stay sober."

Townsend buried her face against Hennessey’s shoulder and cried quietly while Art spoke. "You two have set this up in a pretty shitty way, but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to failure. You do have to know, though, that you’ve made it much harder for yourselves — in every way."

"I know that," Hennessey said.

Art looked at the still-sobbing blonde and said, "Look, I’ve made every mistake there is to make. I was a heroin addict, a drunk and a chronic dope smoker. It took me years to get all of my addictions in order, but I finally did. I was a tough case, and I like to work with tough cases. I think Townsend qualifies," he said, smiling. "Hennessey, why don’t you go for a walk? I want to talk to Townsend for a while."

"Okay," she said, prying her lover’s fingers from her shirt. "Where should I meet you?"

Art cocked his head and looked at her for a moment. "Why don’t you come to the meeting with us? It’s at the VFW hall right down the street. It starts at 5:00."

"Okay, I’ll see you then." She leaned in and gave Townsend a kiss on the cheek. "I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Stay strong."

When Hennessey arrived at the meeting, she was saddened to see that Townsend had been crying again. From the looks of her swollen eyes and mottled face, it appeared that she hadn’t stopped in the last hour. Sitting down next to her, Hennessey slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Tough day, huh?"

"Yeah. Very tough. But I feel better now that you’re here."

"I do, too."

The meeting began and eventually it was Townsend’s turn to talk. "Hi, I’m Townsend, and I’m an alcoholic," she began, her voice quieter and less confident than normal. "I had nine months of sobriety, but I had a major slip this week." Her shoulders began to shake, and Hennessey put her arm around her again to encourage her to continue. "I feel like shit about it… and about myself," she added. "I was so sure that I had a handle on all of this … but I don’t." She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, until another woman reached over with some tissues. "Thanks," she said. "I thought I’d brought enough, but I underestimated how many tears I had stored up."

Hennessey gave her a gentle squeeze, and she lifted her hand to cover her lover’s. "Uhm … I’ve been thinking about what made me slip, and I think it was the same old thing." She looked up at the crowd, each of whom was listening intently. "I felt invisible." She said this quietly, so quietly that Hennessey could barely hear her, but several heads in the room nodded in understanding.

"My mother is pretty prominent in her field, and the headmaster of my school asked her to speak at my graduation in May." She bit her lower lip and continued. "For the first time in my life, I’d started to feel good about something that I’d accomplished. I’ve always been proud of myself for getting kicked out of school, but this year, being sober has allowed me to genuinely put myself into my schoolwork — and it’s felt wonderful," she admitted, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It’s something that I did for myself — only myself." She took in and let out a massive breath. "Having my mother come to the school will make my graduation about her. I’ll disappear," she said in a mere whisper. Her shoulders started to shake, and Hennessey held onto her tightly. "I felt myself disappearing the other night, and no one … no one understood," she choked out. "I felt so alone, so scared … I couldn’t bear feeling that lonely. So, I did what I always do. I went to a bar and let a bunch of creeps buy me drinks. The guys are vermin, and they only want me because I’ll let ‘em do what they want — but they’re consistent. They know what I want, and they’ll give it to me as long as I give ‘em what they want. It’s a fucking sick bargain, but I can count on it — no matter what." Her whole body shook, then she leaned back against Hennessey, muttering, "That’s it."

Late that night, the pair lay in bed, Townsend curled up against Hennessey’s larger body. "It’s been a hell of a week, hasn’t it?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah, it has. I know you and I might see things differently, but I don’t think it’s been a bad week, Townsend. I think it’s shown us some of the pitfalls we’re gonna have to be on the lookout for. I think it’s been helpful in many ways."

"Uhm … we haven’t talked about the night I … got drunk," Townsend said.

"No, we haven’t talked about it much. Do you want to?"

"No, not really , but there is one thing I want you to know. Nothing happened with those guys, Hennessey. I was just stringing them along so they’d buy me drinks."

"It’s all right. I know you weren’t in your right mind. You fell back into your old habits — I know that’s not how you want to live any more."

"Do you believe me?" the blonde asked softly.

"Sure, I believe that you didn’t have to put out to get what you needed. But if I’m gonna be completely honest, I believe you would have done whatever you needed to do to get your fix that night. Let’s face reality, honey."

"I don’t … I don’t want to be like that anymore, baby, I don’t. I want to be yours alone."

"I know you do. I believe that you do."

Townsend snuggled up tight and whispered, "Thanks for believing in me."

"I do believe in you, and I always will," Hennessey said. "But I know how many things you’re trying to change. You’ve got a laundry list here, honey, and most people would be overwhelmed by it. I admire how much effort you’re putting in."

"Thanks."

"You know," Hennessey said, "you’d have a full time job just coming to terms with how you feel about your mom, much less all of the other things you’re doing."

"Aw, she doesn’t affect me much. She annoys me more than anything."

"Uhm … Townsend, didn’t I hear you tell the group that you started drinking again because of how she made you feel? That’s a little more than annoying!"

"It’s not a big deal, Hennessey. I don’t care for her enough to let her get to me very often."

"I know you’ve been in therapy since you could walk, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve spent much time talking about your mother," Hennessey said. "What’s up with that?"

"Oh, I’ve been in therapy forever, but I’ve never been very serious about it. I think I’m on my eighth therapist. I’m trying for the record."

Hennessey pulled away and looked at her partner for a moment. "Who does that hurt?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Who does it hurt when you waste your time in therapy?"

Townsend was quiet for a moment, then said, "I guess it hurts me."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Hennessey said, clearly irritated. "Damn, Townsend, you’ve had so many opportunities, and you not only let them slip by — you throw them away! You’ve got to learn how to care about yourself more."

"Hennessey, I can’t do everything at once. Please stop adding to my list every ten seconds."

Letting out a sigh, Hennessey said, "I’m sorry. There are just some building blocks here that I feel you’ve skipped over. I know you don’t have time to build any trust with a therapist in the little time you have left in Vermont, but you’ve got to find someone to work with once you get back to Boston. It’s going to be very stressful when you’re back on your home turf, baby, and you’re going to need some support."

"I’ll have you," Townsend said, giving her partner a warm smile.

"Of course you will, but I’m not a substitute for a therapist. You need to work on the things that everyone goes through with her parents, Townsend, not just your addictions."

"Okay, okay, I’ll put it on my list. Now can we kiss for a while? I don’t think I’ve gotten one little nibble on those sweet lips today."

"I need that, too," Hennessey said, giving her a warm smile. "Come here and let me hold you for a while."

Surprised, Townsend did as her partner asked, crawling onto her body while Hennessey’s hands trailed all over her cotton-clad form. "I’m glad we’re sharing a room," Hennessey said softly. "I need to do this. I need to have the feel of your body imprinted on my soul."

Townsend lay quietly, the feel of Hennessey’s hands making her body and her heart ache. "The very worst thing about falling off the wagon is knowing that you won’t make love to me this summer," the blonde whimpered. "I dream about it every night, Hennessey. It’s the one thing … the one goal in my life that has been important enough for me to strive for."

"I know,’ the larger woman murmured. "It’s been important to me, too. Too important," she added.

Townsend turned her head and started to kiss Hennessey’s trembling lips. She didn’t rush or push her this time. Fighting her instincts, she used her lips and her tongue not to excite, but to show her love for the beautiful woman who lay beneath her.

Hennessey seemed to detect the change, and she responded in kind, rolling onto her side — taking Townsend with her. Facing each other, their bodies touching all along their lengths, they spent hours exploring each other in the most gentle and tender fashion. Hennessey had a hard time deciding where she stopped and Townsend started, but she honestly did not care. This was nothing like the wild frenzy of sexual need that she’d felt earlier in the week , this was a sacred physical and emotional communion , her mouth and Townsend’s … merging and sharing their hopes and their dreams and their promises.

Neither woman was aware of how tired she was, and each hoped they could continue to luxuriate in the comfort of each other’s arms until morning. But just before dawn, Hennessey woke to find herself still pressed against her lover, their lips less than an inch from each other’s. She let out a sigh and kissed the pouty lips one more time, then tightened her hold and went to sleep once again, feeling safe and sure and confident.

Townsend had no intention of getting out of bed, despite Hennessey’s best efforts. "Come on, honey, I’ve got to get some breakfast and then get on the road. I didn’t get a thing done this week, and I have a major writing assignment on Wednesday. I’ve got to get a little work done today."

"Call the desk and ask them to bring us breakfast. They’ll be happy to." She looked up at Hennessey with her most plaintive expression, and the dark-haired woman gentled her stern look and capitulated.

"Okay. As usual, you win."

"Ha! If I ever won, I’d be happily nursing a hangover after having kept you up all night making love."

"We were up most of the night," Hennessey reminded her, "and if what we did last night wasn’t making love, then I obviously don’t know what love is." She walked over to the phone and made the call, then came back to bed and slid in.

"It was making love," Townsend agreed. "It was one of the best nights of my life."

"Mine, too," Hennessey said, smiling warmly.

"How long do we have to wait until we can make love with our clothes off?" Townsend asked. "You’re not going to make me wait three hundred sixty-two days, are you?"

Hennessey gave her a half-smile and said, "I’ve been thinking about that a lot, honey, and I think that arbitrary date has been part of our problem."

"Huh? What problem?"

"The problem that led you to a bar on Thursday night," Hennessey said. "I think we’ve set this whole thing up to make it harder for you, rather than easier."

Letting out a wry laugh, Townsend said, "Well, it sure as hell feels hard, so maybe we have. How do we fix it?"

"I think we have to remove the one year rule," Hennessey said.

"Now you’re talkin’!"

"Uhm … I don’t think you’re going to like the alternative," Hennessey said. "Don’t get too excited."

Immediately, Townsend gave her a wary look. "What do you mean, I won’t like it?"

"Just what I said. I think the one year rule is a set-up, and I think we should abolish it. I think we have to wait to be intimate until we’re both ready — emotionally. I guess it’s possible that could happen in a few months — but I don’t think it will. I think it will take a much longer time. But I don’t see any options."

"Much … longer … time?" Townsend asked. "Do you honestly think I’m going to wait years to have sex again? I’m a very sexual person, Hennessey. I need it! I don’t have any intention of waiting until I’m twenty years old to have it again!"

"I’m not suggesting that you should," Hennessey said, giving Townsend a look that the blonde was unable to read.

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Hennessey rolled out of bed and walked across the floor to answer the light knock on the door. Taking the tray from the young man, she placed it on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. Townsend was about to pull her hair out, but Hennessey went about the usual, methodical routine she used for making her tea, then sat back and looked at her partner. "I’m suggesting that we’ve been rushing things , "

"Rushing! I’ve got both feet on the brakes! How’s that rushing?"

"We’re rushing for me, Townsend. No matter how it feels to you, I’m not ready to go any further, and I don’t think I will be for quite a while."

"Since when? You were all over me the other night, and we would have been fucking like mad if I hadn’t stopped you!"

"That’s part of the problem," Hennessey said quietly. "I don’t want to fuck like mad. I’ve never made love before, and I don’t want my first time to be rushed and frantic. I want to make sweet, tender, passionate love with a woman who wants the same thing."

"I want that!" Townsend insisted, jumping out of bed to rush to Hennessey’s side. "I want that, too."

"Not consistently," Hennessey said, her sorrow showing in her eyes. "You have too many problems to work out to be able to devote yourself to working on our relationship, Townsend. I can’t be with you until we’re both at the same place emotionally — if we ever can be."

"Jesus, God, Hennessey! Are you breaking up with me? Please, please, don’t do this!"

"No, I’m not breaking up with you; I’m just telling you that it can’t go on like it has been. This isn’t working for me."

"How is that not a breakup?"

Hennessey sighed and closed her eyes. "Okay, I guess it is a breakup. But it’s not a permanent breakup." She turned to face Townsend and said, "I’ve never lied to you — not once — and I’m not going to start now. I want to be with you — in every way — more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’d give everything I have to be able to have you share an apartment with me next year. Nothing would make me happier than to come home at night and make love to you until we couldn’t see straight." She took in a breath and continued, "But we’d break up within the year. I’d either start being your supervisor and you’d start to resent me, or I’d keep my mouth shut and let you make your mistakes — all the while hating you for them. I … can’t … I … won’t … do … that."

Dropping her head into her hands, Townsend asked in a very tired voice, "What in the hell does all of this mean?"

"It means," Hennessey said, "that I have to go back to where we were last summer. I have to concentrate on being your friend and helping you in any way that I can. I’ll write to you every day, I’ll call you whenever I have the money, I’ll see you — often — when you move back to Boston. But I can’t claim to be your lover, Townsend. We haven’t earned that right yet."

Townsend looked at her, her green eyes piercing into Hennessey. "Are you going to wait for me? Am I supposed to wait for you?"

The wide shoulders shrugged. "I can’t make that decision for you. All I know is that I’m not attracted to anyone else. I have no plans to pursue anyone else. You’re the woman I want — I just can’t have you yet."

"You could have me for the rest of your life, and you know it, Hennessey Boudreaux."

"That’s not true," the brunette stated firmly. "If I thought that was possible, I’d do it." She sat up and tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Look. I know that a big part of the problem is me. I’ve never dated anyone, Townsend. I’m so inexperienced that it’s criminal. I wish I’d been casually dating for a few years, and I wish I’d had some relationships before now, but I haven’t. Being with you isn’t a casual thing. It requires my full commitment. I’m eager to do that — but I can’t do it if I’m not confident it will work out. I know that you have to take a leap to fall in love — but I can’t take that leap if I’m sure all that awaits me is rocky ground! I’m not going to have this relationship destroy all of the work I’ve done to maintain my boundaries. Jesus, part of the reason you drank this week was because of how guilty you felt about trying to trick me into having sex. We’ve been with each other for less than a week, and you’ve had a major slip and landed in jail. Is that a sign of good things ahead?"

"No, of course it isn’t," she said softly. "But if we were together all of the time, things would even out. It would be easier, not harder."

"That’s not true, Townsend. I wish it were, but that’s not true."

"Fuck." The younger woman rested her head against the back of the sofa. "So, that’s it? I get the big kiss-off, and you go back to Boston?"

"Yeah, that’s exactly what I said. Thanks for listening so carefully." Hennessey stood up and went into the bathroom, the sharp snap of the lock making Townsend jump.

After one of the longer showers in history, Hennessey emerged, barely glancing at Townsend as she started to walk by her to pack up her things. Townsend’s soft voice stopped her. "I know you’re going to say no, but … I know I’ll never get another chance."

Cocking her head, Hennessey looked at her friend, waiting for her to continue.

"Can I see your body?"

"Pardon me?"

Townsend blushed, a very uncommon occurrence for her. "I know you won’t understand, but I know I’ll never get to see it. I want … I want to have something to remind me of how badly I fucked this up."

"Oh, Townsend," the older woman said, walking over to her. "This isn’t the time to get all fatalistic. I believe in us … and I wish to hell that you did, too."

"Please?" the blonde asked.

"No, I can’t," Hennessey said. "I won’t participate in this, Townsend. If you want to see my body, you’re going to have to earn the privilege. I will not have you using me to torture yourself." She turned and went back into the bathroom, leaving Townsend to shed another batch of tears which seemed to spring from an unlimited source.

An hour later, the pair stood next to the entrance to Townsend’s dorm. "I don’t think I can stay sober without you, Hennessey. I know I should be optimistic, but I can’t be."

Hennessey placed her hand on her friend’s cheek and gently rubbed her thumb across the soft skin. "Townsend, this is hard for me to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. If I’m the only thing that’s keeping you from drinking, then you might as well start again. I can’t supervise you; I can’t be your conscience. You’ve got to do this for yourself — any other reason dooms you to fail."

"Then I guess I’m doomed," she said softly.

"Look," Hennessey said, "you’re probably going to have another slip or two. Hell, you might have a couple of dozen. But if you make up your mind, you will win this battle. It’s your battle and your battle alone. I can support you, but I can’t fight it for you. No one can do this for you, baby."

"I know," she said. "I know it; I just have a hard time thinking about how I’ll be able to stand not having you as my reward."

"Townsend, I’ve said this every way I can think of. When we’re both ready, I would be the happiest woman in the world to be your lover. My feelings for you are very deep and very genuine. I know what I want, and what I want is a sober, mature, Townsend Bartley. I won’t settle for anything less, and you shouldn’t either."

"All right," Townsend said, nodding briefly. "Uhm … I decided to give Art a try as my sponsor. I thought about some of the things that have gone on this week, and I decided that I’ve got to start listening to the people I trust. Sharon wouldn’t have recommended him if she didn’t feel strongly about it."

"That’s my girl," Hennessey said, beaming a grin at her friend. "I think you’ll be a good match — he seems like he’s the type who can keep up with you."

"Why do you think I resisted?" Townsend said, giving her first genuine smile of the day.

"I love to see that spark in your eyes," Hennessey said. "It’s your feistiness that’s going to get you through this, baby. I know that in my heart."

Townsend slipped her arms around Hennessey’s waist and gave her a gentle hug. "Will I stay in your heart?"

"Always. Always, Townsend. I swear it."

Looking up and staring into Hennessey’s eyes, Townsend asked, "Will you kiss me goodbye?"

"Of course I will. I’ll kiss you the same way I do the people I love the most." She placed a tender, brief kiss on Townsend’s lips, then pulled away and said, "That’s how I kiss my grandparents. You mean as much to me as they do, honey, and that’s the biggest compliment I can give you."

Hugging her tightly, Townsend whispered, "Don’t forget me, Hennessey, please don’t forget me."

"I won’t, baby, I promise I won’t." She pulled back and gave her friend one brief kiss, then got into the car. "I know this week didn’t turn out like we’d planned, but I honestly think we’ve got a better chance of making it now than we did last Saturday. Have faith in yourself, Townsend, and in us."

"I have faith in you, Hennessey. That’s gonna have to tide me over for a while."

"I can do that," the brunette said. "I can carry you for a little while. Then, one day, we’ll be able to walk… together."

Townsend reached into the car and slipped her fingers through Hennessey’s. "I don’t think I can let you go," she said, the tears starting to flow again.

"I don’t want to go. I wish … I truly wish that we could be together for all of the days of our lives." She blinked the hot tears from her eyes and said, "I pray to God that one day we can."

"I love you, Hennessey. I always will, no matter what happens. You’ve given me a second chance at life, and I will never, ever be able to show you how grateful I am for that."

"You can show your gratitude by living well," Hennessey said, smiling through her tears. "That’s all I want for you."

"You’re the only person who’s ever loved me in spite of my faults," Townsend said. "I need that so badly, Hennessey."

"Baby, I don’t love you in spite of anything. I love the whole you — the pretty parts and the not so pretty parts. They all come together to make you who you are. I wouldn’t change a thing."

"Now you’re lying," Townsend said, managing a smile.

Giving her friend the crooked grin that always went straight to Townsend’s heart, Hennessey said, "Maybe just a little. I’d change you so you saw yourself like I see you. Then you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself any longer. That would make me very, very happy."

"I’m gonna try hard, Hennessey. I swear I will."

"I know you will. Now, make sure you save me a ticket for your graduation. I wouldn’t miss that for the world."

"When do you leave for home?"

"The day after you graduate. I have to spend some time with my family before I leave for camp."

"Damn, I wish I could have gone, too."

"You’re too old to be a camper, honey, and you haven’t proven yourself enough to be a counselor. I think you’ll do better staying close to home and working with Art. Maybe you should consider staying in Vermont this summer. Your friends in Boston haven’t been the greatest influence on you."

"That’s an understatement," Townsend said, rolling her eyes. "I’ve been thinking about doing that, you know. There are a bunch of good writing programs here, and some of the classes are open to the public."

"That’s what I’d recommend," Hennessey said. "Focus on yourself and your creativity. You’ll be ready for whatever they throw at you when you start school in the fall."

"Could I come visit you in Beaufort before school starts? I’d love to see your grandparents again."

"Yeah, I think we could manage that. When you know what your school schedule is, we’ll talk."

Townsend gave her friend a long, contemplative look. "You really will stay connected to me, won’t you?"

"Without question. You are my best friend, and you always will be."

"I’d like to have all of you, Hennessey, but some of you is much, much better than nothing."

"You’ll get more than some," the brunette promised. "You’ll get the best I have to give."

"I can’t believe I’m the one to say it, but you’d better get going." Townsend bent over and kissed her friend lightly on the lips. "Hold me in your heart, Hennessey. That’s the only place I feel safe."

Placing her hand over her breast, Hennessey said, "You’re right here. Right where you’ve been since last summer. Right where you’ll always be."

Each woman tried to put on a smile, but neither was very successful. Their lips curved in the appropriate way, but both sets of eyes were filled with tears. "Goodbye, Hennessey."

"Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you in May."

Townsend nodded and stepped back, but she didn’t release her death grip on her friend’s fingers. The car started to roll away, and Townsend ran a few steps, her hand refusing her brain’s order to release. Finally, Hennessey’s fingers loosened, and Townsend’s hand started to slip away, leaving a fraction of a second where the tips of their fingers connected.

Hennessey couldn’t bear to look in the rear view mirror, since she knew the mere sight of her friend would break her heart. Instead, she brought her fingers to her mouth and kissed them gently, then placed her hand on her shoulder, hugging herself tightly as she drove away.

Part 8

The golden sun hovered directly overhead, and the breeze was light, making the late spring day unseasonably warm. Hennessey Boudreaux walked at a brisk pace despite the heat, viewing the lovely Vermont prep school campus in the small amount of time she had. For reasons she couldn’t explain it was important to her to see the environment that Townsend had been living in, even if she had to do so at breakneck speed. It’s so beautiful here, she thought to herself. I can almost feel the sense of peace that Townsend spoke of during the winter months. It’s easy to see how nature became a substitute addiction for her. Mentally shaking her head, the tall, thin brunette thought, I don’t think Townsend will ever be free of addiction. But having a jones for the great outdoors is a heck of a lot healthier for her than drugs and alcohol.

Hennessey checked her watch and noted that it was nearly noon. She quickened her pace and soon arrived at the school’s rather lavish auditorium. After handing her ticket to an usher she breathed a sigh of relief when the young man informed her that she could sit wherever she liked. She had nothing against the Bartley's, but she thought her enjoyment of the day's events might be enhanced by keeping her distance as much as possible. Quickly scanning the crowd, she picked out Townsend’s mother. There was a crowd of parents and faculty members surrounding Miranda, and Hennessey silently thanked the school for allowing open seating. Miranda was a pleasant woman, but the brunette knew that being involved in the adulation would only tarnish her own status with Townsend. She settled into a seat about six rows back from Townsend’s parents and grandparents and spent the next few minutes trying to reconcile her mental images with the people she now perused.

Guessing that the fine featured, brown haired man was Townsend’s father, Hennessey searched in vain for any similarity between him and Townsend. After a while she admitted defeat and moved on to the older couple seated next to Mr. Bartley. She knew that Miranda’s parents were both still alive, but that neither of them was able to make the event. So the silver haired man and the dark haired woman had to be Townsend’s paternal grandparents.

When an attractive gray haired woman sitting in the row stood and turned around, Hennessey was stunned to see how much the woman looked like Townsend. I’m sure her great-grandmother isn’t alive. Maybe I’ve confused things, Hennessey thought. The dark haired woman must be Townsend’s aunt. She thought and thought, but couldn’t recall ever hearing of an aunt. Her confusion was magnified when the dark haired woman leaned over and kissed the silver haired gentleman. The kiss was nearly chaste, but there was something about the couple that made it clear they were lovers, rather than father and daughter. I guess I’m gonna have to ask Townsend a few questions about the relatives. Either her grandfather is married to a woman who’s still in her twenties, or the Bartley’s approve of incest. Knowing the family, I wouldn’t take a bet on which of the two is correct.

While she was studying the family dynamic, a chamber group began to play a soothing classical piece. At the conclusion, the audience stood for the procession of the faculty and graduates. Despite the bountiful grounds the class was quite small and Hennessey guessed that it contained only around fifty members. Townsend was in the first pair of students, and Hennessey was able to clearly see her smiling face as the group processed up the aisle and filed into a few rows of seats in the front of the auditorium.

The headmaster approached the lectern and began to speak, but Hennessey tuned him out immediately. She was there for one reason, and that was to show her support for Townsend.

The past few weeks had been incredibly hard on both of the young women, and Hennessey knew that her own studies had suffered because of the pain that she felt. I’m the one who decided that Townsend and I needed to focus on our friendship rather than having a physical relationship, but I’m still not sure I made the right choice. Gramma always told me that a decision was right if I could sleep well after I made it. So either this decision was totally wrong, or Gramma was totally wrong — ‘cause I have not had a good night’s sleep since the day we broke up.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear it. We did not break up, she reminded herself once again. It just became clear that Townsend was putting too much pressure on herself to please me, rather than doing what she needed to do to get and stay sober. Staring up at the coffered ceiling, Hennessey thought, Sometimes I don’t feel mature enough to make my own decisions, much less ones that affect another person so deeply.

The time passed remarkably quickly, and soon the headmaster called on the commencement speaker to take the stage. Hennessey winced a little, knowing that Townsend was violently opposed to her mother giving the speech. But as Miranda started to speak, the brunette was moved by the conciliatory words that the well-known author chose. Miranda spoke of how difficult it was to come of age in the late twentieth century, and of how much harder it was to resist the temptations that were so available to the well-heeled youngsters at the prep school. Much to Hennessey’s surprise, Miranda also said that she was afraid that many of the parents in attendance had not done nearly as good a job with raising their children as they might have. She clearly included herself in this group, and even shed a few tears when she admitted that she had let her child down in many ways over the years.

Surprisingly, Miranda said that both students and parents were paying too much attention to college and not enough to the things that really mattered. She ended the speech by challenging both students and parents to make a commitment to learn more about each other and to try to find common ground to strengthen and reinforce family bonds.

The speech was very well received, and as soon as the applause died down the graduates were all standing, looking quite scholarly wearing the school colors — navy blue gowns and mortarboards for the men and maroon for the women.

Townsend’s was the second name called, and it was all Hennessey could do not to cause a scene. The dark-haired woman clapped so loudly that her hands hurt, and by the time Townsend made it to the stage Hennessey was wiping tears from her cheeks while maintaining her enthusiastic applause.

The young blonde woman confidently strode up to the stage and accepted her diploma, then shook the hands of the headmaster and the dean of the school. As Townsend approached the side of the stage, she reached up and moved her tassel to the left, showing that she was now a high school graduate. Not many people as bright as you are have had to work as hard to graduate from high school, Hennessey thought as her heart filled with respect for her friend’s efforts. If you can work as hard on your sobriety you’ll never touch alcohol again. Hennessey closed her eyes once more and offered up a silent prayer that Townsend’s troubles with substance abuse were now behind her.

At the culmination of the ceremony, the faculty and the graduates filed out, and Townsend gave Hennessey a wink as she walked past her. The audience followed, leaving from the back, as directed. Hennessey was no more than three feet from the steps when a hand grasped her arm and pulled her behind a tree. "What the ...?"

"Shh!" Townsend whispered. "Don’t say a word!"

Wriggling under the too-firm grip, Hennessey finally gave up and felt her friend’s hand loosen. In a few moments the Bartley family descended the stairs and began to walk towards the large lawn in the quadrangle. As soon as they were a distance that Townsend felt was safe, she took Hennessey’s hand and led her back into the auditorium.

"What in the heck are you doing?" Hennessey asked.

"I can not bear to spend another moment with those people," Townsend said, rolling her eyes as she spoke.

Wrinkling up her nose, Hennessey asked, "That bad, huh?"

"Worse. My grandfather has a new toy and he’s intentionally trying to annoy everyone in the family."

"Toy?"

"Yeah. A toy named Amanda. Do you have any idea how it feels to have your grandfather tongue dueling with a woman who’s only eight years older than you are?"

Hennessey tried to imagine the feeling, but the mere thought of her grandfather with a younger woman gave her a fit of the giggles. "I’m sorry," she said, trying to control herself. "The image in my head is not a pretty thing."

"That’s all right," Townsend said. "I know there’s nothing about my family that you can relate to."

"Ahh … not true," Hennessey said. "I know they all love you, even though they sometimes aren’t able to show their love properly. I can really relate to that." She leaned forward and wrapped her long arms around Townsend. "I know I don’t always love you well enough, but it’s never from lack of trying. Sometimes I’m just inept."

Townsend held onto the taller woman with all of her might, squeezing so hard that Hennessey could barely breathe. "Do you still love me?" she asked, her voice full of emotion.

"Yes, yes, yes," Hennessey whispered. "I love you with all my heart, Townsend. All I want is for you to have the time and the space to gain some confidence in your sobriety. I only want to take some of the pressure off of you."

"Is there any way I can change you mind?" Townsend asked. "Isn’t there anything I can say to show you I’m ready to make love with you?"

"No, baby," Hennessey said softly. "This isn’t only about your sobriety, it’s about my ability to stay separate from you. I want to make you stop drinking, to watch you to make sure nothing upsets you, to make sure that you can’t drink even if you want to. That’s not your struggle, baby, it’s mine."

Snuggling tighter against the woman she loved, Townsend asked, "Do you swear you love me?"

"I swear it," Hennessey said, her voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Townsend."

"Do you swear that you won’t forget about me this summer?"

"I swear." Hennessey pulled back slightly and looked into Townsend’s eyes. "I can’t stop thinking about you for an hour. How could I go a whole summer?"

"Can I have a kiss?"

In response, Hennessey bent her head and placed soft kisses on Townsend’s forehead and cheeks. "Someday we’ll kiss as lovers. Until then, I want you to know that my desire for you is as strong as it ever was. I want to kiss you more than anything, Townsend, but it’s too dangerous right now. Until we’re ready, I think we have to show our love and affection in safer ways."

Townsend rolled her eyes and said, "I hardly ever had safe sex before I met you. Now, even a kiss is dangerous. The playing field has changed completely, babe, but you’re worth waiting for."

"Let’s go find your family," Hennessey said. "I’m sure they’re a little tired of waiting."

"Screw ‘em," Townsend said. "I’m sure my mother’s surrounded by a bunch of her fans. They won’t even notice I’m not there. Let’s just load up my car and take off."

Cocking her head, Hennessey gave her friend a half smile. "What do you think the odds of my doing that are?"

"Mmm …" Townsend closed her eyes and appeared to think for a few moments. "Million to one?"

"Not even close," Hennessey said as she tucked an arm around her friend and led her out of the building.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 1, 1995

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Subject: Greetings from Beautiful Beaufort

Hi Townsend, I thought I’d drop you a quick line to let you know I got to Beaufort safe and sound. I don’t know why I’d never thought to go to the public library to use their Internet connection, but it makes sense that you’d think of it first, since you’re a prep school graduate <s>. It was fantastic to see you on the weekend, and I want to tell you again how proud I was of you. Seeing your face as you got your diploma was worth more to me than you’ll ever know. I know how hard things have been for you this past year, and seeing how you’d raised your GPA amidst all the troubles you’ve had was astounding. I clearly don’t know them as well as you do, but I think your parents weren’t merely relieved that you’d graduated — I think they were proud of you, as well. I also thought you did a masterful job of dealing with the added pressure of your mother’s speech. That was a prime drinking opportunity — don’t think I didn’t see your classmates passing around a flask <s> -- but you handled your feelings beautifully. Can’t talk for long. There’s a strange guy peering over my shoulder <g>, but I’ll write again. I leave for camp in two weeks, and once I’m there I’ll have much better access to e-mail. I’ll give my family your regards — Gramma says she’d love to have you come visit any time you’d like. The same goes for me, of course. Let me hear from you when you get settled in your nifty Vermont apartment — you independent thing, you <s>. Much love, H

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: June 9, 1995

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Subject: Greetings from Abstinenceville

Hey H, How’s life in the slow lane? Like I should talk! The most exciting thing going on around here is when Art, my sponsor, takes me for an ice cream cone after a meeting <s>. A year ago, I was drinking every day and sleeping with a different woman every night. You’ve ruined me! The new apartment is pretty nice. Mother sent a truck with all of the furniture from my room (think she’s trying to tell me something?) and a few pieces from the beach house. It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. I haven’t used the kitchen for anything but popcorn, but I’ve promised myself that I’ll make at least one meal this summer. It might only be breakfast, but I’m gonna do it <s>. Art’s keeping a very close watch on me — but I guess he has reason to. I’ve been going to two meetings a day, and I’ve also dropped in on a few Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Much hipper crowd <s>. My writing class starts on Monday, and I’m looking forward to it. My mom bought me a sizzling hot new computer to write with. I didn’t really need it, but I think she was trying to show her support. I’m giving you my old laptop, and don’t even try to argue. I think I’ll come to visit you the week after your camp is finished, if that’s all right. Let me know so I can make a plane reservation. I’m feeling pretty good, H, except for the fact that I miss you more than I could ever begin to tell you. I don’t want to be too needy, but it would really help me if you could drop me just a short note every day from camp. I need a little connection from you to help me get through the night — the nights are the hardest times, Hennessey. Hearing from you before I go to bed would make a huge difference. But don’t stress if you can’t manage it. I can handle it, H — I’d just like it if you could help take the edge off. Take care of yourself, stretch. And let me hear from you once you get to camp. I hope you don’t have any campers who tax your patience like I did. You’ve suffered enough for one lifetime <s>. All my love, Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: August 9, 1995

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Subject: Your visit

Hi, Townsend I’ve told you this three times on the phone, but I can tell you’re still bothered by it, so I’m going to give the written word a chance <s>. I understand why you can’t come to visit, and I swear I’m not upset about it. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m disappointed, Townsend, very disappointed. But I think it’s a great sign that you’re putting your writing classes first. I know I wouldn’t have a good time if I were trying to finish a twenty page story during my vacation, and I doubt that you would either. It’s not a big deal, sweetheart, since I’ll be in Boston in two weeks. Since both of our colleges start on the same day I thought I’d try to get there on the Friday before classes start. Then we'd have a long weekend to spend together. How’s that? I know it’s not what you want, and it’s not what I want, either. But one of the sucky things about being an adult is learning how to delay gratification. Stick with me, pal, and you’ll know more about delaying gratification than any woman should know <bg>. I love you, Townsend, and I love the fact that you’re being so serious and diligent about your classes. Who knows? Maybe you’ll have enough experience so that you can be a writing instructor with me next summer. Wouldn’t that be great? Counting the days until I see you, Love, H  

"Come on in!"

Hennessey poked her head into the dorm room, smiling when she caught sight of the boxes that nearly surrounded Townsend. "I heard there was a woman around here in serious need of assistance."

"Hennessey! You’re not supposed to be here until late afternoon!" Townsend jumped over an open box and flung herself into her friend’s arms.

"I was at the airport early and got on an earlier flight. I came here without even stopping in Cambridge since I figured that you had the bigger task ahead of you. I was sure you’d need a ton of help getting settled."

"Oh, you sweet, sweet thing," Townsend murmured into the cotton of her friend’s sky blue T-shirt.

Releasing her, Hennessey said, "Well, all of my gear fit into two suitcases, and I had a feeling the same wouldn’t be true for you." She looked around the room and said, "I must be psychic."

"Thank God my roommate isn’t going to be here until tomorrow. She’d kill me if she saw all of this junk. I honestly don’t know where to start."

"Well, how did you get set up in your apartment?"

Smiling, Townsend said, "My mother had someone do it for me. She offered to have someone do it again, but I didn’t think it would look very good for me to have a decorator accompany me on my first day at my new college. I’ll make a bad impression on my own — when the time comes."

Hennessey gave her a half smile, otherwise ignoring the comment. "Well, I’m ready to work, so let’s get busy."

"Where do we start?" Townsend asked, looking around helplessly.

"It doesn’t matter where we start," Hennessey said, giving her a big, warm smile. "It only matters that we start."

"You’ve got to let me buy you dinner," Townsend said hours later when they’d wrestled the room into submission. "Anywhere you want to go."

Hennessey looked down at herself and gave her friend a smile. "I’m dressed for McDonald’s, but I have a hankering for a steak. Don’t know why, but I’m feeling carnivorous today."

"Your pants look fine, stretch. I’ll lend you a sweater and you’ll be set."

Laughing, Hennessey said, "That won’t work. You’re a medium, and I’m a large."

"Uh-huh. That’s why you’ll look fine, you big dope. Your clothes are all too big. Showing a curve isn’t a crime, you know."

"How do you think I’ve maintained my chastity for all of these years?" Hennessey asked. "The fact that I’m a woman is a closely guarded secret."

Giving her a sad smile, Townsend said, "You’re definitely a woman, Hennessey. No doubt about it."

Over dinner, Townsend didn’t attack her food with her usual verve. Reaching across the table, Hennessey placed her hand over her friend’s and asked, "What’s going on in that cute head?"

Giving her a slightly embarrassed look, Townsend said, "I’m worried about starting school."

"That’s natural, honey. I can’t imagine that every freshman doesn’t feel that way. This is a big step for you."

"Uhm … no, that’s not it. I’m not worried about the normal things. I know I’ll do well if I put my mind to it."

"Tell me," Hennessey said, gazing into her eyes.

"I’m worried about resisting the temptations. There’s a part of me that thinks I might do better in an apartment, where I have more control over the environment."

"Mmm … that makes sense. Why did you choose to live in the dorm?"

"Mainly because I want to have a real college experience. I want to try to fit in for a change, Hennessey. I want to act like an eighteen-year-old."

"I think it’s a good thing for you, honey. I know it’ll be hard to resist the drugs and alcohol that are going to surround you, but being with people your own age can help you reclaim a little bit of your youth. You missed out on so much by being drunk during your adolescence."

"Yeah, I know. My therapist said something that’s really stuck with me. She said that when you start drinking and taking drugs when you’re young, you get emotionally stuck at that point. In many ways, I’m just like I was when I was fourteen — but in other ways, I’m so fucking jaded. I feel like two different people, Hennessey."

"That makes sense," the older woman said. "You’ve seen a lot that most eighteen-year-olds haven’t experienced."

"Lucky for them," the blonde commented wryly. "I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to fit in, ya know?"

"Of course I know. I didn’t feel very confident when I started at Harvard. There aren’t a heck of a lot of Southerners around here, ya know, and I’m certain that I’m the only virgin in the whole school. I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I don’t smoke. I had exactly the same problem you did — but from the other direction."

Townsend laughed softly. "I guess you did, didn’t ya?"

"Yeah, I did. Luckily, Robin, my roommate, and I got along very well, and I was able to meet some other people who were a little sheltered, too. Harvard has an international student body and I tried to make friends with foreign students. I figured a Japanese accent and a Southern accent were equally hard for Bostonians to understand. If you look around, I’m sure you’ll be able to find some kindred souls."

"That’s the problem, Hennessey, kindred souls seek me out like moths to a flame. I want to meet people who aren’t like me." Her face gentled into a warm smile and she said, "I want to meet people like you."

"Well, I’m one of a kind, buddy, and the good news is that I’m just a short ride away. Actually, I was thinking that we should set up a regular time to get together."

"Really?" Townsend’s face brightened dramatically.

"Of course. How about Friday nights? We’ll be finished with school for the week and we can decompress a little."

"Friday would be great. I heard about a meeting in Cambridge that a lot of college-aged people go to, and it’s at 5:00 on Friday. We can get together on your turf."

"Works for me. Let’s make it a permanent thing — every Friday night we’ll do something fun -- go to a movie or out to dinner or something."

"Just being with you is fun," Townsend said. "And having something to look forward to will really help me out."

"Speaking of helping … are you looking for a new sponsor?"

"Yeah. I’ve got a few leads, and I’m going to start making calls tomorrow. I’m not letting Art go, though. We’re gonna stay in touch until I’m comfortable with the new person."

"You’re doing this in just the right way, Townsend. I’m proud of you."

"Thanks, Hennessey. That still means way too much to me, but I’m not gonna fight it. Now, let’s head back to my dorm so I can give you your new laptop."

"Aww … you really don’t have to do that …"

"I want to. I don’t need two of them, Hennessey, so either you take it or I give it away."

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess I’m in. Thanks, Townsend. I truly appreciate the gift."

"I’ll admit it’s partially selfish," the younger woman said. "Now, you have no excuse for not e-mailing me every day."

"You’ve always got an angle going, doncha?" Hennessey asked, smiling warmly at her friend.

"Yep. I’ve learned it pays to think ahead."

 From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: September 30, 1995

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi there, Just wanted to drop you a note to tell you I had a nice time yesterday. Jenna seems like a great friend for you to have made, and leave it to you to find a Mormon in Boston! Did you put an ad in the student newspaper asking for people who’ve never tasted the demon rum? <s> Seriously, Townsend, I admire you for seeking out people who don’t share the habits you’re trying to break. I’m very sorry that your roommate is acting out so badly, but it’s all too common for people away from home for the first time. From the way it sounds, she’d do well to attend a few meetings with you, but I doubt that she’d be amenable. Hang in there as well as you can, and if things get really uncomfortable, you can always request a room change. I’m sure someone else would give anything to switch at this point of the term. Robin says to tell you that she enjoyed finally getting to meet you. I think she was afraid I was making you up, after the way I talked about you constantly last year <s>. She liked Jenna as well, and suggested we all get together for a movie. I think that would be fun, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our Friday night date. That’s sacrosanct <s>. Gotta run. I’ve got a quiz in my history class and I can’t be late. Later, H

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: September 30, 1995

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi there yourself. <Just wanted to drop you a note to tell you I had a nice time yesterday. <Jenna seems like a great friend for you to have made, and leave it to you <to find a Mormon in Boston! Did you put an ad in the student newspaper <asking for people who’ve never tasted the demon rum? <s> Very funny! I didn’t take out an ad, I hired a private investigator, smart ass! No, Jenna and I met in English composition class. I picked her out when I saw her blush whenever the instructor used a naughty word <s>. As you could tell from our conversation yesterday, she knows about my drinking — I think she loves the fact that I’ve quit — it’s like a victory for her side <lol>. To be honest, though, I haven’t told her about any of my other … issues. I really like her, and I want to keep her as a friend. I think I’d scare her off if she knew of my sexual history — and I don’t mean just the lesbian thing — although that alone would probably be enough. So, I’d like it if we didn’t talk about my and our sexual history when she’s around, okay? I don’t like to lie to people, but in this case I think I have to. I enjoyed meeting Robin, and Jenna did, too. We’d both like to hang out with some brainy Harvard chicks, so give us some clear, easy to read directions, making sure you use small, monosyllabic words, and we’re there <lol>. Well, I’m off to a meeting. Things are working out great with Laura so far. She’s a good sponsor, and once again, she won’t take any shit from me. It seems like everyone has my number. Have you been talking? All my love, Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: October 1, 1995

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi Townsend,

<Snipped for brevity's sake>

<As you could tell from our conversation yesterday, she knows about my

<drinking — I think she loves the fact that I’ve quit — it’s like a

<victory for her side <lol>. To be honest, though, I haven’t told her

<about any of my other … issues. I really like her, and I want to keep her

<as a friend. I think I’d scare her off if she knew of my sexual history —

<and I don’t mean just the lesbian thing — although that alone would

<probably be enough. So, I’d like it if we didn’t talk about my and our

<sexual history when she’s around, okay? I don’t like to lie to people <anymore, but in this case I think I have to.

I wouldn’t dream of talking about our history with anyone, Townsend. What we had and what we have is too precious to me to share with anyone but you. I know you like to be totally honest with people, and while it probably isn’t a good thing to hide too much of yourself, I can see that doling out the information slowly is probably a good idea. Jenna seemed more naïve than me, and that’s a feat unto itself <lol>. So, don’t worry, buddy. Your secrets are forever safe with me.

Much love,

H

Hennessey unexpectedly had to spend a Wednesday afternoon in Boston and rather than head back to Cambridge she decided to drop in on Townsend and see if she was available for an impromptu dinner. When she arrived she found both beds in Townsend's room filled with clothes and books. "What's going on? Early Spring cleaning?"

"Nope," Townsend said, giving her friend a hug. My roommate hated me and so did Jenna's. They met each other recently and decided to dump both of us. She's been dragging her stuff over here all afternoon."

"Wow, you were really dumped, huh?" Hennessey asked. "Did that upset you?"

"Nah," Townsend said, shaking her head. "She wanted someone to party with, and so did Jenna's roommate. We were just passed because we were in the slow lane." She giggled softly and asked, "Who would ever guess that I'd be in the slow lane."

"I think you're right where you belong." Hennessey said. "Where's Jenna now? Does she need any help?"

"Her old dorm is clear across campus. I just brought another load over while she got the next one ready." She gave Hennessey a curious look and asked, "Would you mind helping out?"

"Not at all. Let's get her organized and then we can all have dinner together."

Townsend threw her arms around Hennessey and gave her a robust hug. "You're the best friend in the whole world, stretch."

"Nah. Surely there's a better friend somewhere in the world. I haven't met her, but it's a very large planet you know–" She was cut off by a giggling Townsend tugging on her sleeve and firmly pulling her out the door.

On a cold Friday night in November Hennessey braved the elements to go into Boston to visit Townsend. For most of the fall Townsend had been attending an AA meeting not far from Harvard, but she had found a good group closer to her school and had recently made the switch.

When Hennessey arrived she was nearly frozen and Townsend gasped when she saw the ice-covered woman. "My God! I didn't know it was snowing!"

"It's n…n…n…not," Hennessey said, shivering mightily. "It's sleeting."

"You poor thing! Come in here and get warm."

"I don't think I'll ever be warm again," Hennessey said. She shuffled into the room, barely moving her knees or ankles. "I stepped into an icy puddle that must have been a foot deep. I can't feel my feet."

"Jesus! Take those boots off!" Townsend bent down and saw that Hennessey's jeans were drenched nearly to her knees. "And the pants!"

"My turtleneck is wet, too," Hennessey said. "The wind was blowing so hard that ice got into my coat."

"I'll get you some sweats, honey. Go into the bathroom and take everything off."

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," Hennessey teased.

"Yeah, I do, but most of them scream and run. I'm counting on your stiff joints to keep you from scampering."

The taller woman bent and kissed Townsend on the cheek, her lips so cold that it felt like an ice cube had been placed on the spot. "I'll take whatever you have, buddy. I don't care if it fits or not. Just warm me up."

"I can handle it," Townsend assured her.

A few moments later Townsend knocked on the bathroom door and handed Hennessey a roomy fleece sweatshirt, a pair of sweats and two pairs of socks. "You can take a hot shower if you think it'll help," she added.

"No, I'll be fine as soon as I'm dry. Can you turn the heat up?"

"No can do, bud. We don't have individual thermostats. It's usually pretty warm, but when the wind blows like it is tonight I realize how many gaps there are in the window frame."

"Then chop up your furniture and start a bonfire. I'm sure no one will mind."

"Come out here and I'll warm you up," Townsend said.

"If anyone can do it, you can," Hennessey agreed. "Be right out."

A short while later the pair was snuggling on Townsend's bed, getting ready to watch a movie that Townsend had rented. "Have you ever seen "The Incredible True Life Adventures of Two Girls in Love?" she asked.

"Huh uh, but I've wanted to. I don't think it ever made it to Beaufort," Hennessey said, chuckling. "Nothing I really want to see ever does."

"Well, you're in the big city now, bud. Scoot over so I don't fall off the bed, will ya?"

"Why do dorms always put such tiny beds in the rooms?" Hennessey asked.

"So they have room for a pair of desks that are too small for kindergarteners," Townsend replied. "My bathroom at home is bigger than this room."

"I know that," Hennessey said. "And I think it's great that you chose to live here. Just another example of the excellent decisions you've made this year."

"Stop complimenting me and eat some popcorn," Townsend said, grinning. "The movie's starting."

The movie had been playing for about a half hour when the phone rang. Townsend answered it, saying, "Hey. What's going on?" She looked puzzled, then asked, "Is it really that bad?" After another short pause Townsend said, "No, I think you should stay. Hennessey's here and she'll probably stay over. Mind if she uses your bed?" She smiled and nodded, then said, "Take care, buddy. See you in the morning." She hung up and said, "Jenna says the weather is so bad that she's gonna stay over at her friend Sheila's dorm. You're here for the night, pal."

"Thank God," Hennessey said. "I was dreading having to go out in this storm, but I knew you wouldn't want me to stay if Jenna was here."

"Then you lucked out, didn't you?" Townsend asked, tweaking Hennessey's nose. She twitched her head and asked, "If you want to lie on her bed you can."

Hennessey's eyebrows knit and she asked, "Do you want me to? I kinda like it here if you don't mind."

"Yeah, I'm all about getting you out of my bed," Townsend said, jumping onto her friend and sneaking her cold hands up under Hennessey's shirt.

The brunette shrieked and fought to remove the cold digits from her warm skin. Townsend gave up quickly, then snuggled up to Hennessey's side and rested her head against a convenient shoulder. "I like you here, buddy. You're a very nice pillow."

"Thanks," Hennessey said. "I aim to please."

It struck the taller woman that this was the first time they'd been physically close since the previous spring. I hope I'm not giving Townsend the wrong message, she thought. I know it's hard for her to keep a distance and I don't want her to think that the rules have changed. Watching the movie with half of her attention, she let her mind wander, asking herself, Why haven't the rules changed? Townsend could be the poster child for AA! She hasn't had one slip since March of last year, and she was sober for nine months when she got drunk that time. She's developing a much better relationship with her parents and is working so hard in therapy. Why aren't we changing the rules?!?

Using one of her mental tricks, Hennessey forced herself to stop wondering about the question, deciding that she couldn't think about it when she was with Townsend. She needed some solitude to consider such a big issue, so tonight she wanted to clear her head and merely enjoy the movie.

The movie was definitely heating up and the young women were in a situation eerily similar to the one that Hennessey found herself in. The high school aged girls from the movie were spending their first night together, sleeping at one of the girl's homes while her mother was away. Damn, that's the age I should have been fooling around with girls, Hennessey thought. Yeah. Right. You can't do it now, what makes you think you could have done it then. Sighing, she reminded herself, I thought we were going to table this issue until tomorrow.

Once again she tried to focus, but the girls were undressing each other and kissing each other exactly like she wanted to kiss Townsend. God, I want to kiss her, she thought, tipping her chin so that she could breathe in the floral scent of Townsend's shampoo. She smells so good, so sexy. And I know she'll be such a good lover. Sighing heavily and shifting a little, she thought, She'll be a great lover, and you know it. So, what's the problem?!?

Deciding that she couldn't avoid the issue, Hennessey let herself dwell on it. I want her, and I know she wants me. I see the way she looks at me sometimes when she doesn't think I'm looking. I see the way her eyes light up when I see her on Friday nights. She looks at me like she wants me, like she desires me. So why can't I just let go?

Searching deep within herself, Hennessey came to the only conclusion that made sense to her. I'm so fucking afraid of falling in love with an alcoholic. I never should have gotten involved with her in the first place! My Al-Anon sponsor is always warning me about how easy it is for me to want to take care of Townsend, rather than let her live her own life.

But what in the hell do I do? Can I get over my fears? I can't keep Townsend hanging on if I'm never going to trust her. That's unbelievably cruel, and I can't allow that to happen. So how do I move on? She fidgeted on the bed until Townsend started patting her thigh to calm her down, but that only made her more aware of the warm, soft body curled up against her.

I don't know how I'll know I can trust her, but I know I'm not there yet. I know it's selfish of me, but loving another alcoholic will kill me. There's no way that I could survive if we got together and Townsend started to drink. I have to see her go through some tough times and not give into temptation. She hasn't had a difficult situation since last spring break, and as soon as I hurt her feelings she immediately got hammered. Shaking her head, Hennessey reminded herself, She isn't the same woman she was then, and you know it. She's maturing at an incredible pace, and her sobriety finally means as much to her as it does to you. She's close, Hennessey, and there's a good chance that you'll be able to trust her soon. She breathed in the delightful scent of the woman who lay in her arms and tightened her grip, trying to press Townsend's soft breasts into her own. God, I hope it's soon!

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: November 29, 1995

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hey studly!

Congratulations on being selected for the winter writing program at the camp! I still find it hard to believe that you’re going to spend more time with my mother over winter break than I am, but you really deserve this, Hennessey, and I’m proud of you. I think MaryAnn was a little surprised at how much pull my mom has with other writers, but when she puts her mind to it she’s quite persuasive. I think part of the reason my mom worked so hard to get this together was because of how grateful she is to you, buddy. I had dinner with her last night, and she was full of compliments — something I haven’t heard from her in many, many years. Of course, I haven’t given her much to compliment me on … so I can’t really blame her. But she made a point of mentioning how wonderful an influence you’ve been on me, and I can’t disagree <s>.

Don’t worry about not being home long enough for me to come visit. I think I’ll take Jenna up on her invitation to go to her family’s home in Salt Lake City. I’d love to ski some of those mountains that the Olympics will be held on, and thankfully, Jenna is a good skier, too. It’s gonna be weird to be surrounded by people who don’t drink or smoke. Hell, I’m gonna have to smuggle in some Diet Coke! I wonder if I’ll be able to find an AA meeting there. Just kidding — there are alcoholics in every town big enough for a bar <lol>.

Talk to you tomorrow, buddy — I just wanted to congratulate you as soon as I heard.

All my love,

Townsend

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: January 15, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hey, I know you won’t be home for a few days, but I couldn’t wait to tell you all about my trip. I don’t use that word indiscriminately, Hennessey, it was a trip! I’ve seen happy families on TV and in ads my whole life, but I was always certain that only an actor or a model could pull it off. You can imagine my amazement when I actually encountered what appears to be a happy family. I was suspicious, of course, and I probed carefully, trying to expose the dark underbelly of this seemingly functional family. But much to my surprise, I wasn’t able to find the evil hidden within. I honestly think that the Markham’s might be the real deal. At first, it was scary, to tell you the truth. I kept waiting for Mr. Markham to sneak into my room and make me watch him jerk off — not because of anything he did — he just seemed so normal! It was freakish, Hennessey! And Mrs. Markham cooked all of the meals we ate — with her own hands! I thought you had to work in a restaurant to do that, but apparently there are mothers who cook meals for their own children. Trippy, huh? Jenna is the oldest, and she has four younger sibs — two girls and two boys. They seemed like normal kids, but when they’d start to fight or argue, Mrs. Markham would, in a very calm voice, ask them to stop — and they would! I didn’t hear a curse word all week; no one got drunk; no one got yelled at; and Mrs. Markham wasn’t driving the kids to therapy all week long. They went to church together a couple of times, but they didn’t try to pressure me into going with them — no one tried to convert me. Maybe they were smart enough to recognize a hopeless case <s>. Anyway, as the week went on, I started to see that they weren’t just acting like they were a normal family — they really were! Mr. Markham got frustrated with the kids a few times — but he told them why he was upset and what he wanted them to do. And Mrs. Markham wasn’t too happy about having to make dinner again when Jenna’s sister came home late from soccer practice. But after telling her that she expected her to call next time, she cooked for her! No guilt trips! The girl apologized, and she actually looked sincere! I don’t know what all of this means, Hennessey. I’m being serious. Is it really possible to live with people and not try to drive each other crazy? God, I thought of the way I speak to my mother, and it made me ashamed! I mean, my mother is no Mrs. Markham, but I treat her like she’s a sack of shit — maybe that’s part of the reason she doesn’t want to spend time with me. I’m really pretty confused about all of this, pal. Call me when you get home and maybe you can help me sort it out. I’m starting to have a glimmer of hope for the basic goodness of people, and I need you to dissuade me of this notion before it lodges in my brain! By the way, the skiing was fabulous! Jenna’s got a little wild streak in her when she gets on a snowboard — who would have guessed? <s> Counting the days until you’re back in Boston. All my love, Townsend

Part 9

"Come on in," Townsend called out.

Hennessey opened the door to her friend’s dorm room and strode in. "Who missed me?"

"I did!" Townsend cried, running across the room to launch herself at her friend. "I missed you so much! And I thought of you on Christmas — wishing I could have some deep fried turkey."

"Mmm … it was good this year," Townsend said, smiling. "We had oysters coming out of our ears this year, too. It was a very good year for shellfish."

"How are your daddy and your grandparents?" Townsend pulled her friend over to the bed, then pulled her desk chair up close.

"Daddy was good this time. He was at home every night, and he wasn’t visibly drunk when I was there. I can’t say what he did when I was on Hilton Head, but things were good when I was actually at home. Granddaddy and Gramma are about the same — working too hard — worrying too much. I wish I could finish school so I could help them out, but that dream’s just gonna have to wait."

"So tell me about the workshop? Was it great?"

"It was great great," Hennessey said, grinning widely. "I went to a seminar that your mother gave, and she really impressed me. I think I’m gonna have to finally pull out some of her books and give them a read. She’s deeper than she seems, Townsend."

"Yeah, she probably is. I think she’s one of those tortured souls who has to medicate herself just to stay sane." She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it runs in the family."

Hennessey reached out and gave her friend a generous hug. "You’ve never been more sane, buddy. You were crazy when you were drinking."

"Eh … maybe. It’s still too early to tell. So, what brings you over here in the middle of the afternoon? I thought you’d have class your first day back."

"No, we don’t start until tomorrow. And I’m here because I want to talk to you about something."

"Something good?" Townsend asked tentatively.

"It’s good for me, but it might upset you a little bit," the brunette said.

"Huh. I can’t guess what this is going to be, so go on."

Hennessey took a breath and said, "I have an opportunity to go to Europe next year. There’s a literature program that’s based in Paris — and they take students from all over the U.S. to participate. It’s very intensive, and it’s conducted entirely in French — so it’ll be very grueling. But I think it would be good for me — help to broaden my outlook a little bit."

"And you think I wouldn’t want you to do this?" Townsend gaped. "I think it would be marvelous for you, buddy. Is it over Christmas?"

"No, this is the part you won’t like," Hennessey said. "I’d be there for nine months. It would be my whole junior year."

Townsend leaned back in her chair and emitted a low whistle. "The whole year, huh? Wow."

"Yeah, I know, it would be hard for me to be away from you that long, but I think the program would be wonderful. It would let me really delve into another culture and gain an understanding of French arts and letters that I could never get in the States. As you know, I want to get my Ph.D. in literature, and having a cross-cultural curriculum like this under my belt would help me get into a good program."

With a small smile, Townsend said, "Hennessey, you have to do this. It would be good for you and good for your career. You can’t turn something like this down."

"Yeah, especially since I would only be able to go if I get a full scholarship. There aren’t many of them offered, but I think I stand a chance."

"I’m sure you stand a chance, buddy. You’re very gifted, and they’d be lucky to have you."

"Thanks," Hennessey said, smiling warmly. "Are you sure you’d be okay with me gone for the whole year? I know how much I’ve come to depend on you–"

"The same goes for me," Townsend agreed, "but your career has to come first. I’ve got some good friends here, and things are working out great with my sponsor. I’ll be fine, Hennessey. Don’t you dare let worrying about me stop you from pursuing something this important."

"Okay, I’ll apply," the brunette said. She gave her friend a playful grin and said, "Robin wasn’t nearly as supportive. She forbade me from leaving her to the vagaries of random dorm assignments."

"Oh, Robin’s so sweet, there’s no way she’d want you to pass up an chance like this."

"Nah, you’re right. She’s happy for me. But we’ve gotten to be very close, and it’s gonna be hard for her to live with someone new."

"Especially since she has the best roommate in the world," Townsend teased. "God knows, I’d love to live with you."

"I think you feel a little closer to me than Robin does," Hennessey said, smiling. "Hey, are we close enough to go get an early meal?"

Townsend inclined her head towards the pile of books on her bed. "No, I can’t. I've got a load of work to do." Smiling at Hennessey, she added, "Now if you want to stay and help me work on a short story …"

"No, no, I’ve got plenty to do. Besides, my food is included with my room and board. I shouldn’t throw money away if I’m going to have enough Euros to bring home some gifts for you next year."

"That’s the kind of planning I like to see," Townsend said. "Now, go get organized, and I’ll see you on Friday — same as always."

"It’s a date," Hennessey agreed, giving Townsend a soft kiss on the forehead while holding her gently in her arms for a few moments. "See you then," she said, reluctantly pulling away.

 From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: March 1, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

I refuse to accept the fact that a whole year has passed since our memorable trip to Martha’s Vineyard, so humor me and agree that both of our schools are giving us some time off in a few weeks for no reason at all <s>.

I might be tempting fate, but I thought you might like to give the Vineyard another chance. Although I’m certain your memories are less than fond, this might be the ideal time to turn your frown of remembrance upside down <I’m actually turning into a fucking Girl Scout!>

If Jenna decides not to go home, she’s going to come, too, so even if I turn towards the devil again, it’ll be two against one <s>. So, whadda think, stretch? I know I should have asked you in person when I saw you last night, but I thought you might not say no immediately if you had some time to think about it first. Yes, I am always plotting, but you’ve told me that’s a good thing.

My extensive team of mental health professionals all agree that I’m ready to try this little experiment one more time. I’ve been working hard to come to terms with my mother over this past year, and I’m sure I’m making progress. I haven’t mentioned this, but when she’s in town we have dinner once a week. Sometimes my father accompanies her, and it’s been going very well. I haven’t said anything, because I don’t want to jinx it — but I’m willing to risk a jinx to try to convince you that this year will not be a repeat of last. So, give it some thought, buddy, and let me know.

All my love,

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: March 2, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi there,

I’m writing instead of calling because Robin couldn’t afford the bills and had her phone cut off, and I can’t bear to talk to you from the hallway. I need privacy when we speak.

The good news is that I concur with every thing you say about how you’ve changed. I think it’s fantastic that you’re trying so hard to make peace with your parents, Townsend. I know all of you will benefit from your efforts. I also know how hard you’ve worked to maintain your sobriety, and I’m confident that you’ll continue to do so.

The bad news, well not bad news, but bad timing, is that my break isn’t at the same time as yours. I’m a week later, and since I have some major projects due during your break I couldn’t think of leaving town. But if there was any way to do it, I’d be there in a second. And, just for the record, I don’t think you should consider going to the Vineyard as a second chance. You’re just living your life, baby, and you’re doing a great job of it.

I hope Jenna’s able to go with you, but if she isn’t, don’t let that dissuade you. It might be nice to spend some time alone with your mom— given how little time she’s awake during the day, it isn’t really that much of an investment <s>.

Just remember to make sure your mom doesn’t spill the beans about your past if you haven’t revealed those things to Jenna. You’ve always been very open, and you mom might not guess that you want to keep some things private.

Talk to you soon,

Love,

H

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: March 16, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi,

Just got back and I need to talk to you. Call me, e-mail me, send a carrier pigeon. Just let me hear from you.

Townsend

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: March 16, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hey, where are you? I dragged my sweet butt over to Cambridge looking for you, since I can’t call you any longer.

Would you be terribly offended if I bought you a cell phone? There are times I need to speak to you, Hennessey, and even though you seem to prefer e-mail, I don’t. Let me know if you would be able to tolerate a phone — only remember, it’s not a present for you — it’s for me <s>.

Well, since I can’t talk to you like I want to, I guess I have to do it like you want to. This seems to be a theme in our relationship — have you noticed? I wanna have sex, you don’t. I wanna get drunk, you don’t. I wanna do handfuls of drugs, you don’t. I honestly think it’s my turn to get something I want that isn’t bad for me <s>, so I’m buying you a phone.

Back to business -- I’ve got so many things going on in my head that I have to get some of them out, so get ready for a mind-dump.

The week was a qualified success. In fact, I would have thought it was a tremendous success if it hadn’t been for the last day. My mom was remarkably civilized, even managing to switch her screwy schedule so that she was awake to take us out to lunch a few times. My mom and Jenna don’t have a lot in common, but they both went out of their way to try to converse with each other. You know, my mom said something to me at one point when we were alone. She said that even though she’s proud of me for not drinking, she thinks the biggest change I’ve made in my life is that I’m now choosing healthy friends who help me stay healthy. I think she was including you in that group, stretch <s>.

Anyway, Jenna seemed to be enjoying herself, even though our lifestyle is quite different from hers. One thing I’m sure of is that she loved the island. It was a very big change from her home in Utah, and I think she could grow to be an ocean junkie if given half a chance.

We talked a lot about what we wanted to do after college, and I suggested she stay on the East coast for a while since she seems to like it so much. Regrettably, Boston isn’t filled with eligible, young Mormon men, so she’s pretty sure she’ll head back to Utah after we graduate. I learned something totally whack, Hennessey, and it was all I could do to not ask her if she was nuts. She has to go on a two-year mission to some place or other to spread the faith, and she’ll probably do that right after graduation. She could be sent anywhere in the world — the Artic, Australia, Haiti, Sweden — anywhere. I don’t know about you, but I could never let anyone tell me where I had to live and what I had to do for two years … but you probably know that about me already <s>. Well, that’s enough about her — let’s talk about me <s>.

As I said, things went very well until the last day. On Saturday I had to go to my AA meeting, and she wanted to go into town with me. So she had an hour on her own to wander around the shops. She was in a good mood when I left her — and we made plans to have lunch after I got back.

Now, you may have noticed that the folks on the island are not particularly fond of me <s>. I don’t know if Jenna heard the citizenry calling out the alarm to lock up their daughters or what, but when I got back she was … different. That’s the only word I have for it, Hennessey. She was different.

She didn’t want to have lunch, and for the rest of the day, I could hardly get two words out of her. Even Mother couldn’t get her to talk, and you know how good she is at things like that. Jenna went to bed as soon as we got back from dinner, and she was very quiet on the trip home today. When we got back to the room, she gave me some lame excuse and took off, and I haven’t seen her since.

I know you can’t possibly guess what’s bugging her, but I’d really appreciate it if you could help calm me down. She’s a very good friend, Hennessey, and I really don’t want to lose her. You and Jenna are my only true friends and I need both of you. I’ll be in my room, waiting for one of you to come to my rescue.

Townsend

"Hi," Hennessey said over the cacophony near the entrance to the library. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Uhm … no, now’s not a good time," Townsend said, being very circumspect. "How about dinner? Can you swing it?"

"Yeah, sure. Shall I come by your dorm?"

"No, no, I’ll come to Cambridge. I’ll go to a five o’clock meeting, then I’ll come by your dorm. I’ll be there about 6:30, okay?"

"Sure. Are you okay? You don’t sound good."

"Uhm … yeah. I’m fine. I’ll see you then, okay?"

"It’s a date," Hennessey said.

When Hennessey opened the door to her room, Townsend thrust a tiny cell phone at her. "Don’t argue with me," she said. "I’ve already bought it and had it programmed, and I can’t take it back now. I added you as a member of my family plan — so we’ll share minutes. You can use it whenever you want -- as long as you’re calling me." She gave her friend a sly smile, and Hennessey knew that things were better with Jenna.

"I’ll take the phone, but I need a proper hug," the taller woman said. Townsend snuggled up against her, holding on for a long time.

When she pulled away she straightened her hair and said, "I don’t know what in the hell happened, but Jenna seemed close to normal when she got back to the room. She’s not completely over whatever was bugging her, since I caught her staring at me with a very puzzled look on her face when she didn’t know I was looking, but she’s at least talking to me."

"Damn," Hennessey said, releasing her friend. "She must have heard something that confused or upset her." Hennessey looked at the floor, trying to decide how honest to be. "Uhm … you have made some enemies in town, baby. And in any small town people love to gossip. The day you were in jail I spoke to a number of people when I went looking for you. From what I heard you must have pissed some people off — big time."

Townsend sat down on her friend’s bed, nodding briefly. "Oh, I have. The Kennedy kids have been behaving themselves for quite a few years now, so I’m the island pariah now. It sucks," she said, dropping her head. "I can’t believe I used to be proud to watch people cross the street so they didn’t have to walk next to me. I want to be liked now, Hennessey, but I think the chances of that are slim."

"Nah, don’t talk like that," Hennessey said. "People can change, and everyone loves to see a young person rehabilitate herself. Over time, they’re gonna start liking you. It’s impossible not to like you when you let someone know you."

Reaching out to ruffle her friend’s hair, Townsend gave her a bright smile. "Thanks. You’re so damned good for my ego."

"You’ve got an adorable ego," Hennessey said. "It just needs a little propping up once in a while. Now, let’s go grab some food and I can tell you about my week. We haven’t talked about me nearly enough."

Standing, Townsend linked her arm with her friend’s. "I can’t believe you can tolerate the way I treat you. You should always, always come first, Hennessey."

Dipping her head to kiss the crown of Townsend’s blonde head, Hennessey said, "Now you’re talkin’, it’s all about me."

"How can it be this cold in March?" Townsend asked as they walked along the bustling streets of Cambridge.

"I d…don’t know," Hennessey said, shivering noticeably.

"Jesus! I know you have a warmer coat than this one," Townsend said, tugging on a thin sleeve. "Where is it?"

"I packed up all my heavy clothes and sent them home," Hennessey admitted. "I didn’t think I’d need them any longer, and I had some free time during break. I came with two suitcases, but I’ve got more than that now, and I thought this was the most efficient way to move my stuff home."

"Yeah, it’s efficient, but it’s a little premature!"

"Now you tell me," Hennessey said. "Where were you when I needed a consult?"

"Let’s take the bus back," Townsend said. "We’re almost a mile from your dorm."

Hennessey was so cold that she didn’t put up a minute’s fuss. She trotted for the first bus shelter and huddled in the corner, the icy cold wind making her teeth chatter.

A large gap in the Plexiglas seemed to strengthen the wind, rather than cut it, and Hennessey was on the verge of hailing a cab — normally an unthinkable extravagance.

Townsend came jogging up to her, panting only slightly. "You look like you’re gonna freeze into a big, Southern Popsicle," she chided her friend.

"C…c…cold," Hennessey agreed, her lips turning blue.

"C’mere." Townsend opened her shearling coat while indicating that Hennessey should sit on the tiny seat designed to provide the most basic level of comfort for patrons. The brunette did so, looking up at her friend with a question in her eyes. "Put your arms around me," Townsend instructed, and Hennessey followed her order.

The smaller woman stepped closer, then wrapped her coat around Hennessey’s shoulders, enveloping her in the soft, buff-colored wool.

"Oh, God, this feels so good," Hennessey mumbled, her voice obscured by Townsend’s body and her clothing.

Townsend stroked her friend’s back, and soon the brunette stopped shivering. "Feeling better?" Townsend asked gently. She kissed the glossy dark hair, lingering for a moment — letting her lips rest against Hennessey’s head.

"Yeah. I feel … good," Hennessey said.

Something about her voice puzzled Townsend, and she pulled back to look into her friend’s eyes. There, for the first time in a year, she caught a glimpse of longing in the beautiful orbs, and before she knew what she was doing she bent slightly and captured the full, pink lips with her own, thrilling at the soft moan that slipped from Hennessey’s open mouth.

Without pausing to reflect, Townsend straddled her, frantically pulling her close. They grappled with each other, trying to mold their bodies tighter, while Hennessey sucked hard on Townsend’s lips.

Suddenly, Hennessey’s mouth was filled with Townsend’s tongue, and they began to squirm and press into each other, moaning insensibly. The bus came, paused, and left — neither woman having the slightest awareness of its passing.

Hennessey’s hands ran up and down Townsend’s back, her fingers digging into the flesh as she tried in vain to pull the smaller woman closer to her. Craving complete merger, Hennessey held her friend so tight as to bruise her, and Townsend winced in pain.

"Oh, shit," Hennessey groaned, her speech thick and slow. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yeah," Townsend panted, her eyes half closed. "Hurt me again. Now!"

Blinking in surprise, Hennessey once again followed instructions to the letter. They continued to wrestle, both gasping for breath until slowly the pace of their kisses turned from frantic to blatantly erotic.

Townsend held the dark head in her hands, and looked into the depths of Hennessey’s eyes. Seeing nothing but arousal and desire she bent to touch the pink lips with the slightest pressure. Using the tip of her tongue, she gently urged Hennessey’s mouth to open. She slid into the slick, warm mouth, feeling like she was finally at home. Hennessey’s tongue fluttered along Townsend’s, her pace slow and sensual.

Pressing against Hennessey’s stomach, Townsend ground her hips into her partner, moaning softly when a pair of large hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. "Ohhh," the blonde purred, "That feels so fantastic."

Emboldened by the response, Hennessey filled her hands again, massaging the firm flesh while her tongue darted all around Townsend’s open mouth.

Without warning, the brilliant glare of a searchlight hit them, and Hennessey pulled her arm from around her friend to cover her eyes. A disembodied voice spoke. "Any further, and I’m running you two in. You’re about two minutes from public indecency."

Still shielding her eyes, Hennessey’s shaking voice called back, "Yes, sir. I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again."

"Uh-huh," said the officer, knowing it would happen a time or two on this particular shift alone. He shifted his car into gear and slowly cruised away, leaving two frustrated, and one mortally embarrassed woman in his wake.

Hennessey rested her head on her friend’s chest, taking in deep, even breaths until she could feel her heart start to calm.

"It’s okay, baby. We’re fine," Townsend soothed. "There’s a hotel not far from here. Come with me." She stood and extended her hand, but this time Hennessey did not comply.

Eyes filled with panic, the dark woman said, "No, no, I have to go back to my dorm. I have to!"

"What? Why?"

"Because this just happened!" she said, as though that were explanation enough.

Blinking in confusion, Townsend asked, "What in the hell are you talking about? Of course this just happened. We decided we'd wait until we were ready, baby. We agreed that we wouldn’t try to meet a timetable. Don’t you remember?"

"Of course I remember, but we’re not ready for this, Townsend. We’re not! Our bodies are more than ready, but our brains aren’t. I know that … I do!"

"Oh, Jesus, Hennessey, not this again!" The blonde climbed off Hennessey’s lap and dropped onto one of the hard, plastic slats. "You can’t mean that!"

Squatting down and running her hand through the soft, blonde hair, Hennessey looked at her friend with deep pain in her eyes. "I do mean it. I wish to God I didn’t. God, I wish I didn’t!" She began to cry, hot tears streaking down her chilled cheeks. "I want you so badly, Townsend, but we’re not ready."

Townsend looked at her, trying to see what was going on inside that dark head. Unable to read the conflicting signals she was receiving, she said, "I am. I’m ready, Hennessey, and I know what I want. I want you, and I want you now."

"I know that," Hennessey said softly. "I’m … I’m sorry, Townsend, but my conscience won’t let me do this. I wish it would shut up and let me do what every other part of my body wants to do — but it won’t. And I won’t make love with you until I’m sure. I can’t do that — to us."

Townsend took in a breath that sounded like it would suck half the oxygen from Cambridge. "I won’t waste my time trying to convince you otherwise," she said. "It’s not worth the energy. When you make up your mind I don’t have a chance." She stood again and gave her friend such a cold look that it hit Hennessey like a blow. "The time is right, Hennessey. I’m more mature and I’m more certain than I’ve ever been that you’re the woman for me. I’ve made gigantic strides in this last year, and you claim that you see them, too. But I think those are just words you use to placate me. If you really believed in me and in my maturity …" Shaking her head, she started off in the other direction, putting up her hand in a dismissive gesture when Hennessey called after her.

"Please don’t leave," Hennessey cried. "Please stay so we can talk about this."

"There’s nothing to talk about. We’ve talked until I’m nauseous. It’s time to let our feelings flow, Hennessey."

"Please, Townsend, please don’t leave. I love you!"

"Not enough, you don’t," the younger woman ground out, her words carried by the cold, dry wind.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: March 17, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi,

I don’t know a lot about cell phones, but I know enough to understand that you’ve blocked my number. I don’t blame you, Townsend, I really don’t. If I were in your position I’d be incredibly hurt — and it would take me a long time to get over it.

But please let me talk to you. I can’t stand to be shut out this way, baby. I know we can work this out if we can talk.

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: March 17, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Since my number is still blocked I have to resort to e-mail again. Look, Townsend, I know you’re hurt, but you have to give me a chance to explain. After all we’ve been through I think I deserve that.

Hennessey stood in front of Townsend’s dorm room, shifting nervously from foot to foot. A pair of women walked past her and she couldn’t delay any more, so she knocked. Seconds later Jenna answered.

"Hi," she said, her expression giving nothing away.

"Hi, Jenna. Is Townsend home?"

"No. As a matter of fact I’m not sure she came home last night. I assumed she was with you."

"Oh, shit," Hennessey said, closing her eyes tightly to stop herself from crying. "Uhm … would you call her cell phone?"

"Sure. Come on in, Hennessey, and I’ll try to find her." Both of them walked into the room and Jenna picked up the phone, speed dialing Townsend’s cell number. After a moment she smiled and said, "Hey, Hennessey’s here looking for you. Did you come home last night?"

Hennessey paced around the room, trying to occupy her mind by looking at the ticket stubs and menus neatly tacked to a cork board above Townsend’s desk. She heard Jenna pause to listen to Townsend then say, "Oh. Uhm … sure. I can do that. I’ll ahh … see you later, okay?"

Jenna hung up and cleared her throat. "She’s at her parent’s house. I didn’t know she was going home for the weekend, but she won’t be back until Sunday night."

Hennessey gave her a tense smile and said, "Thanks, Jenna. I’ll see you around."

"Okay," the young woman said, a false note of cheer in her voice. "See you."

As the door closed behind her, Hennessey rested her cheek against the door and let the tears flow. People passed by, but she didn’t care if they saw her. Nothing mattered but Townsend.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: March 17, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Dear Townsend,

I know that it’s going to take a while, but I hope to God you can forgive me, and that we can be close once again. You mean so much to me, sweetheart. I love you with all of my heart, and the fact that I can’t be sexual with you right now is hard for me, too. I swear to God that I’m not rejecting you, Townsend. I lay awake last night thinking about why I reacted like I did, and I think that it’s not you this time — it’s me who’s not ready. That doesn’t mean that I never will be — but I’m not ready right now.

I believe you when you say you’re ready to have sex, baby, but we both have to be in the same place. I promise that I’ll try to figure out what’s stopping me from showing you how I feel, but I can’t guarantee how long that will take me.

Please, please don’t give up on us. You’re my future, Townsend, and I can’t imagine my life without you.

I hope you can contact me soon.

Hennessey

"Come in."

Townsend stuck her head into Hennessey’s dorm room, and noticed Robin sitting at the computer. "Oh! Hi, Townsend. Hennessey’s not here right now."

"Uhm… do you know where she is? This is our normal night to go out to dinner."

"Well… ahh…" Robin gave her an embarrassed half-smile and said, "I don’t think she was expecting you. She’s… she’s been very down this week, Townsend. She thinks you hate her."

Townsend sighed and sat down on the bed. "I could never hate her, Robin. Never." She closed her eyes and raked her hands through her hair, then lifted her head and asked, "Do you know what’s going on between us?"

"Not really. All she told me was that you were angry with her and wouldn’t speak to her."

"That’s about it," Townsend agreed. "I was very angry with her, but I could never hate her. I’m frustrated, and I’m still pissed off, but I know we can work it out."

Robin got up and walked over to sit next to Townsend. Placing a hand on her leg, she said, "She cares for you so much. You can’t imagine how much pain she’s been in his week. I was about ready to call her grandma and ask for advice on how to cheer her up."

"Oh, fuck me," Townsend muttered. "I should have stayed in contact with her, even though I was mad at her."

Robin shrugged her shoulders, then said, "The hardest thing for her was when you blocked her e-mail. I think she understood that you didn’t want to talk on the phone, but not allowing her to talk to you at all was pretty harsh."

"I know, I know. I was just…" She blew out a breath and asked, "Do you know where she is?"

"No, I don’t. I can tell you all of the places she normally hangs out if that’ll help."

"Yeah. I’ll go find her, one way or the other. Will you call my cell if she gets home before then?"

"Sure. No problem. Uhm … you don’t have the hall phone number blocked too, do you?"

Wincing, Townsend said, "I unblocked her on Wednesday. I guess she just didn’t try again."

"She’s not the type to do that, Townsend," Robin said as she handed her a sheet of paper listing Hennessey’s favorite haunts. "She told me that she slid a note under your door telling you that she wouldn’t try to contact you again. Once she tells you something, you can depend on it."

"I know that’s true," Townsend said softly. "But sometimes she, like everyone else, makes promises she can’t keep."

"I should have known to start at the library," Townsend said when she found her friend over three hours later. The blonde sank into a chair next to the startled woman and shook her head. "I’d make a terrible detective."

Hennessey’s calm lasted for less than a minute, before tears were forming in her eyes and her arms flew around Townsend’s body. "I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry."

"Shh … shh," Townsend soothed. She ran her hands through Hennessey’s thick, black hair, whispering softly to her. "We’ll work this out. We will."

"Are you sure?" Hennessey’s trembling voice asked.

"Of course we will. We’ve been through worse, haven’t we?"

With a wan smile, Hennessey nodded. "I guess we have."

The pair found a quiet spot near the library and settled down on the spring-green grass. Hennessey was obviously nervous and still teary. Townsend leaned against a tree and pulled the larger woman to her. Like a child, Hennessey cuddled against her friend, nuzzling her face into her neck.

Softly stroking the dark hair, Townsend whispered, "I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I'm very, very sorry."

"S’okay," Hennessey murmured. "I hurt you, too."

"Yeah you did," Townsend agreed, "but you didn’t intend to. My shutting you out was just cruel."

"Thanks," Hennessey whispered, beginning to cry again. "I … knew you were hurt, but you broke my heart when you cut me off."

"I’ll never do that again," Townsend said. "I promise you that, baby."

Sniffling, Hennessey asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Townsend was quiet for a long while, ordering her thoughts and censoring the ones she knew would be met with a quick rejection. "Uhm … I think you need to do some soul searching, honey, and figure out whether you want to be my lover, or my friend."

Hennessey sat up, her eyes wide with alarm. "I want to be your lover! I swear I do! I’m … just not ready."

"Then you need to find out why you’re not ready. I think you need to get some counseling, Hennessey. You need to find out what’s holding you back."

The dark head nodded and Hennessey said, "I went to the student counseling center on Monday. I was really hurting and I needed some help to stay grounded."

Her expression suffused with pain, Townsend whispered, "Oh, baby, I’m so sorry for what I did. I never meant to hurt you so badly."

"It’s really all right," Hennessey said. "Gramma always says that you learn your lessons through your tears."

Townsend smiled at her friend. "I normally agree with your grandmother, but I hate to have you cry. Do you think you'll go back to the health service? It really might pay off if you talked to someone about your feelings."

"I did," Hennessey said, giving Townsend a puzzled look. "I got some things off my chest, and I'm feeling much better."

The blonde gazed at her friend for a few moments, struggling with her emotions. Deciding that trying to talk Hennessey into going to therapy would never be productive, she merely nodded. "I'm glad you're feeling well, stretch, and I'm very sorry that I hurt you."

"I hurt you too, Townsend. Let's try to put this behind us and make a new start."

Townsend managed a smile, but knew in her heart that Hennessey was no more ready to make a new start than she had been on the night she kissed her.

Two weeks later, Hennessey lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her room. "Did you have fun tonight?" Robin asked.

"Uhm… yeah, I guess. It’s… it’s not the same, but I still enjoy being with her."

"What’s not the same?"

"Our relationship," Hennessey said. "Townsend doesn’t share things with me like she used to. It’s… it’s like she’s afraid to be vulnerable around me any longer. She’s… guarded."

Robin sat down on her desk chair and rolled it close to her friend. "You can’t really blame her, Hennessey. She wants something from you that you’re unable to give her. How is she supposed to act?"

"I don’t know," the dark-haired woman mumbled. "I just miss her. I miss her so much, Robin. I’ve never been as close to anyone that I wasn’t related to, and losing that closeness is about to drive me mad."

"Maybe she’s protecting herself a little bit," Robin guessed. "I mean, in less than two months you’ll go back to South Carolina, then you’re off to Paris for a year. To be honest, Hennessey, I don’t blame her for pulling back a little. It’s obvious she’s not going to get what she wants for another year — at least. That’s a long time — especially to someone like Townsend. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’s fond of biding her time."

"No, she’s not," Hennessey agreed. "I guess you could be right. Maybe she’s just trying to protect herself a little bit. God, I hope that’s all it is."

Part 10

The night before Hennessey was to fly home for the summer Townsend insisted on going out for a celebratory dinner. "I can’t believe I got through my first year of college without a drink, a controlled substance, or a failing grade," she said, laughing.

"You’re being more than a little modest, Townsend. You were less than a quarter point from being on the Dean’s List." She reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. "I couldn’t be more proud of you."

"Thanks," Townsend said, blushing under the praise. "I will concede to working hard, and even admit that it felt good to apply myself. Who knows, I might even decide to go to graduate school some day."

"Those are words I never thought I’d hear," Hennessey said, smiling fondly at her friend. After a beat, she added, "You've made all of the progress this year. You've changed you life in so many ways, and I'm stuck just where I was when the year began. You’ve been so patient with me, and now I’m asking you to wait for over a year to see if I can figure out how to have a sex life."

The blonde sighed, trying to be upbeat but having a difficult time of it. "Well, it is disappointing that we won’t be able to work on it while you’re away. I wish you would have let me pay for a therapist for you, Hennessey."

"I should have," the brunette allowed. "I let my pride get in the way, and now we're both paying the price."

"Pride?"

"Yeah. I've always believed that I can fix any of my problems as long as I work hard enough. But I'm not having a lick of luck with this one. I should have admitted that I was struggling and we might have been able to make some progress."

Townsend gave her a thoughtful look, then asked, "Would you have gone to therapy?"

"Well … I didn't mind talking to that doctoral candidate in the student health service, but I don't know if I'm ready to lie on a couch." She looked at Townsend, her lips pursed. "Where I'm from seeing a therapist is a sign of pretty severe mental illness. I'd have to work up to the full blown therapy thing. But I should have at least gone to talk to the people in the student counseling service again. I let my fears get in the way."

Townsend nodded, saying, "Kinda what I thought."

"It hardly matters now, but I wish I had been more open minded. I feel like I've pulled you into this hole with me, and now you can't get out." Hennessey's head dropped for a few moments, and when she lifted it there were tears in her eyes. "I guess … I guess what I'm saying is that I don’t feel right asking you to wait for me, baby. God knows I hope that things can work out between us, but I can’t guarantee they will."

Covering the chilled hand with her own, Townsend said, "I’m not asking for guarantees, Hennessey. I love you and I don’t have any plans to look for anyone else."

Hennessey gave her a relieved smile and said, "I hoped and prayed you’d say that, but I thought I had to tell you that I wouldn’t blame you if you did."

"Please don't worry about that. Just enjoy your summer and try not to let any of the campers drive you mad."

"I don’t think anyone will challenge your record," Hennessey teased, earning a pinch from her friend.

The next morning, Hennessey sat in the United Airlines terminal, Townsend at her side. "Do you think you’ll be able to visit me at the end of the summer?" the brunette asked.

"I’ll sure try, but there’s a good chance I’ll be in Europe in August. My mom has an international tour to hawk her latest book, and I might go with her."

"Really?" Hennessey’s brow scrunched into a frown. "You’ve never mentioned that."

"Well, it’s not a firm plan, or anything. She just asked me recently, and I’ve been thinking about it."

The frown remained, and Hennessey's shoulders slumped a little. "Oh. Well, maybe we can meet up in Paris. I arrive on September the tenth."

"That won’t work. I start school the day after Labor Day. That’s a week before you get to Paris."

"Damn, Townsend, I don’t know how I’ll survive if I don’t get to see you before I leave. You know I need to see your sunny face."

Giving her a warm, but sad smile, Townsend nodded. "I know. But sometimes we don’t get what we want. Sometimes things just don’t work out."

"Meaning?" Hennessey asked, her frown etching deeply into her forehead.

"Nothing." Townsend patted the taller woman to reassure her. "I just meant that schedules and plans don’t always work like we think they should. There's not much we can do about this one, stretch. I'll make every effort to visit you, but I'm really looking forward to being with my mom on this book tour."

Hennessey looked at her for a long time, blinking in annoyance when she was called to board. "Will you really try to visit?"

"Of course I will." Townsend wrapped her arms around her friend and gave her an enthusiastic hug. "I’ll try hard."

Hennessey looked at her again, staring deeply into her eyes. "Do you promise?"

"I do," Townsend replied, holding her friend’s gaze. "If nothing else, I’ll come to Paris over winter break. There’s no way I’m going to miss the looks you get when you speak French with that Southern accent. No way on earth!"

"That’s my girl," Hennessey said, smiling at her fondly. She leaned over to kiss Townsend, placing a gentle buss on her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hennessey. Now, you’d better scoot if you want to get some room in the overhead bin. Go on, now."

Hennessey nodded, then got in the slow-moving line, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to make eye-contact. After she handed her ticket to the gate agent, she turned one last time, but Townsend was gone.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: May 17, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Townsend,

I know it’s only been an hour since we hung up, but I’ve still got so many things to say to you that I can’t calm my mind enough to sleep.

I want to tell you one more time that I understand perfectly. I know you think I’m lying, but I swear I’m not. I understand how it happened, and I understand that you want to give it a chance. That makes perfect sense, and I think you’d be shortchanging yourself if you didn’t do so.

Jenna is a wonderful person, and I’ve grown very fond of her over the past year. I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be for her to deal with her feelings for you, but if she’s able to hang in there, I agree that you have to let her know you’ll be there to support her.

The simple fact is this: Jenna seems ready, willing, and able to love you, Townsend, and she’s ready now. While you know how much I care for you, you also know that I haven’t been able to summon my nerve to step up to the plate. Hell, for all I know, I never will. Who knows? Maybe I’m not even a lesbian. God knows I’ve never been attracted to another woman, and I’m no longer physically attracted to men. Maybe I’m just asexual, or maybe I’m afraid to be sexual with anyone. But whatever my problems are, they are real — and they’re keeping me from giving you what you need — what you deserve. If Jenna can do that, I swear I’m in favor of this.

I’m not a selfless person, Townsend. I’m filled with desire for you, and I’ll admit that I want you to wait for me until I’m ready to express that desire. But that’s not fair to you. You can’t spend your life waiting for me, no matter how much I want you to.

So, that’s why I’m not angry. That’s why I’m not pissed off at Jenna or at you. I love you enough to want what’s best for you, Townsend, and if you think this is what’s best — I trust your judgment. I honestly think you’ve grown and matured much more than I have in the past year. I feel a little stuck, to be honest, and this might be the push I need to grow up a little.

I leave for camp on Monday, and I’m quite sure that Jenna won’t be comfortable with you and me being as close as we have been. So, I’ll understand if you’re not able to write every day. Let me hear from you when you can. I love you with all of my heart, and I swear I only want for you to be happy. I hope you find that happiness with Jenna.

Love always,

Hennessey

p.s. When people say that you didn’t wake them up when you call at 3 a.m. — they’re lying <s>.

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: May 17, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi,

I can’t sleep, either, but my cell phone is dead and I can’t find the charger. I wish I could hold you right now, Hennessey, and tell you how much I love you. I feel … I feel so horrible … like I’ve cut off one of my own limbs. But there’s something inside of me that says it’s better this way.

I know you’ve noticed that I’ve been distant for a while. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could be close to you while holding back at the same time. It’s not working for me, sweetheart, and I don’t think it ever will. I don’t know why you can’t commit to loving me sexually, but it’s obvious that it’s a big issue for you. I don’t think it’s just me, Hennessey. You’re obviously a sexual, sensual woman — but you’re almost twenty years old and I’m the only person you’ve ever kissed. You have some work to do to figure out why that’s so, and how you can change the situation — if you want to.

God knows I don’t have a clue if this will work out with Jenna. But it seems to me that both you and I need to experiment a little. I don’t want to beat you over the head with details, but having sex again was very, very weird for me, Hennessey. I’ve never had sex when I’m sober, and in a way, I felt as raw and as vulnerable as Jenna must have.

We’re both still very young, H, and now that I’m sober I feel almost virginal again. Learning about ourselves and our sexuality with other people might be the safest choice at this point in our lives.

I didn’t plan for this to happen, Hennessey, I swear I didn’t. It honestly didn’t cross my mind that Jenna could be sexually attracted to me. But I care for her deeply, and I feel very protective of her. That’s never happened to me before, and I think it’s just what I need at this point in my life. I’ve been focused on myself for so long, that it felt wonderful — weird, but wonderful — to be more concerned about making it safe for her than for myself. I would never tell Jenna this, but I desperately hope there’s still a chance for you and me. That might be a wish that’s never fulfilled, but I want you to know that it’s a wish that will always burn in my heart. You’re a part of me, Hennessey — you’re the very best part. I love you more than I can say, and no matter what happens I hope that’s always true.

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 6, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi,

I've always tried to avoid writing e-mails when I'm angry, but I'm going to break that rule this morning.

I haven't had a good night's sleep since you slept with Jenna, and if I don't get some of this off my chest I might never sleep again. So please forgive me for being so blunt, but I'm feeling very raw and very bruised.

Here's what is torturing me. You told me that you had no idea that Jenna was attracted to you. That statement has longed in my craw and I can't get rid of it. I can't let go of it because you never said anything about the corollary. Where you attracted to her? I have a strong feeling that you were, Townsend, and I'd like to know if my feeling is correct. I want to know how you felt about her and when you realized you were attracted to her. I know you, and I know that you wouldn't say yes to a sexual encounter with Jenna unless you knew it wouldn't be a one-night-stand. You're not that kind of person any longer, Townsend, and you yourself said that you were protective of her. You don't protect a sexually inexperience Mormon woman by having a sexual fling and then abandoning her. So, how did you feel about her, and when did you know that you had feelings?

Given that I'm sure you did have feelings for her, why didn't you tell me about them? Don't you think I deserved to know that you were interested in another woman? I sure as fuck do! When I left Boston you told me not to worry – that you weren't interested in anyone else, and you had no plans to get involved with another woman. Were you lying to me?

Now this is the hard part, but I want to know. Who made the first move? I have a hard time believing that Jenna did. I know this won't make me feel better, but I have to know how it was between you. I have to know who started the ball rolling.

I also want to know what you mean when you say that sex with her was weird for you. What does that even mean?!? God knows I'm inexperienced, but I don't have language for that. Isn't sex just sex? I feel like you're operating at a higher level of understanding and experience and I'm so stupid that I can't even translate your words into meaning.

I've been trying to sort this out on my own, but I'm not having any luck at all. I'm short of temper and I find that I'm overly critical of my students. I don't want to make this camp a bad experience for the girls, so I'm begging you, T, help me out. I think that's the least that you can do.

Hennessey

"How am I supposed to call you when you have your cell phone off all day," Townsend said, letting her annoyance show when she finally got hold of Hennessey that night.

"I've got a job to do," the brunette said. "I can't have my phone ringing in the middle of class." She paused for a moment and said, "Is the entire tenor of our conversation going to be like this? If it is, I can make myself miserable. I don't really need help in that department."

Townsend was quiet for a while, trying to control her temper. "I'm sorry, Hennessey, but your e-mail really pissed me off."

"Pissed you off? I pissed you off?"

"Yes, you pissed me off. Your note was so accusatory, Hennessey, and I've done nothing to deserve that."

"I'm the one who's in a position to decide that," Hennessey snapped.

"No, you most fucking certainly not! You can have as many suspicions as you want, but I'm the only one who knows what went on between Jenna and me. And if you want to know what happened, I suggest you take that high and mighty attitude and tone it down a couple of yards. Now do you want have a civilized conversation, or not?"

"Yes, yes I do," Hennessey said, sounding more like herself. "I'm just beside myself with anger and frustration, Townsend. I feel like you lied to me, and I can't tolerate that."

"I did not–not once, lie to you, Hennessey. You can believe that or not, but it's the truth. Now if you want to know what happened I'll tell you. But don't bitch about it if I tell you more than you want to hear."

"I want to hear everything," Hennessey said. "I promise I won't complain."

Townsend took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm down enough to relate her story. "Okay. Here goes. I've always thought that Jenna was an attractive woman. She's pretty, but in a nice, clean, wholesome way. She looks like she could do an ad for milk or some really pure soap."

"Yeah, that's Jenna," Hennessey agreed. "She's not a weathered old crone like me."

"Hennessey, will you stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself!" As soon as she said it, Townsend regretted it. "Oh, shit, I didn't mean to say that."

"Yes, you did," Hennessey said. "You're just sorry that you said it out loud." Her voice was hard and cold, two tones that Townsend had almost never heard from her friend.

"Fine. I am sorry I said it out loud. But you are feeling sorry for yourself and it's getting in the way of my telling you what happened. Now do you want to know, or not?"

"Yes, I want to know. I'll try to keep my opinions to myself."

"Great. That's just what I want." Townsend sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night. "As I said, I've always thought Jenna was pretty, but I also think that Halle Berry is pretty. I gave as much thought to sleeping with one of them as the other."

"Until …"

"Until the night it happened," Townsend said. "I was down about your leaving, Hennessey. I can usually hide my feelings pretty well, but Jenna sat me down that night and asked me what was going on. I tried to weasel out of the conversation, but she was very determined."

"I bet," Hennessey muttered, but Townsend chose to ignore her comment.

"I don't know why I did it, but I told her the truth. I told her that I was in love with you, but that we hadn't been sexual with each other."

"Because I'm frigid," Hennessey said, sounding terribly wounded.

"No," Townsend said, her voice soft and empathetic. "I told her that you were trying to protect both of us from heartache. I told her that you wanted to make sure that I wouldn't drink again, and you were being more careful than I thought you had to be. That's all I told her, Hennessey, I swear that."

Sniffling back her tears, Hennessey said, "I believe you. I'm sorry I'm being such an asshole, Townsend, but I'm so fucking hurt."

"I know that, love, I really do."

"Then what happened?" the brunette asked.

"She asked if I thought you and I would ever get together, and I said I wasn't sure. I said that it wouldn't happen for more than a year, and that I was getting doubtful that we'd ever be able to take the leap."

"You and me both," Hennessey said.

"Yeah, well, she came over and sat next to me on my bed and told me about what had happened when we were on spring break. She was having an ice cream cone and was approached by a woman who I used to sleep with. Now that's not a small group, but I think I know who it was. This woman told Jenna that she'd seen the two of us on the island and asked her a few questions. Jenna blithely told her about being friends, and the woman said that I didn't make friends, I just fucked women until I found a new one who caught my eye, and then I fucked her."

"Ouch," Hennessey said.

"Yeah, well, I can't fault the accuracy of her account, just the inappropriateness. Jenna, as you can guess, was pretty freaked out by the whole thing, but she said that she'd spent the previous months praying about it and seeking guidance. Everyplace she looked told her that women having sex with women was a massive sin, but she slowly admitted to herself that she was attracted to me. I swear that I'd never picked up on it before, Hennessey, but she told me that she was in love with me, and that if I had feelings for her too she'd do her best to get rid of the years of negative messages she's been bombarded with."

"So you took her up on her offer," Hennessey said flatly.

"Yes, I did. I still don't know if I did the right thing, but I did what I thought was right. I don't mean to sound like Mother Teresa, but my heart really went out to Jenna. For a girl like her to fight through all of the bullshit she's been told … well, I was very moved."

"What is this, Townsend, a mercy fuck?"

There was dead silence on the other end and it lasted for a long while. Finally, Townsend said, "I can't believe you said that to me. Do you have no feeling for who I am?"

"Shit. I'm sorry, Townsend. I … I don't feel like myself tonight, and I probably shouldn't have even written to you. I should have waited until I had my feelings under control."

"NO!"

"What? What in the hell are you yelling about?"

"I don't want you to control your feelings, Hennessey. That's why we're in the situation we're in! You have to learn to trust your feelings and give in to some of your desires! You're so buttoned up that it's stifling you." Her voice grew soft and tender, and she said, "It's what's keeping us apart."

"Oh, Townsend, I want to be with you. I want you so much."

"I want you too, Hennessey, but aside from the bus stop incident it had been a year since we kissed, and it's going to be another year before we can kiss again."

"So you're with Jenna because she's available? That hardly seems fair to her."

"Hennessey, I don't use people anymore. I've told Jenna exactly how I feel about you. Neither one of us thinks that we'll be together until death parts us. Jenna is just discovering that she's attracted to women and she wants to see where those feelings lead her. I know what I want, but I don't think I'm going to get it, so it's time for me to start dating again."

"So you don't think we have a chance," Hennessey said, her tone flat.

"That's not what I said. All I said was that I can't put my entire future in your hands, baby. I need to live my life and you need to live yours. If you get to the point that you feel ready to love a woman and I'm single, I'd love for that woman to be me."

"That sounds pretty unlikely, Townsend. You're such a catch that you'll never be single."

"Thanks for the compliment, stretch, but I'm also very discerning now. I'm not in love with Jenna yet, but she's kind and thoughtful and a very good person. She's a lot like you, Hennessey, and that's why I'm willing to take a chance on this relationship."

"And Jenna's okay with the fact that you're feelings are … divided at best?"

"I told her everything, Hennessey. That's all that I can do. I told her that I'm not ready to settle down and get married, that I'm in the market for a girlfriend–not a wife. I can't be more honest than that."

"What happened after you had this discussion?"

"Why do you want to know this?" Townsend asked. "How will this help you?"

"I just want to know. Please don't keep me in the dark, baby."

"I don't think this is a good idea, but I trust that you know what you need," Townsend said. She took a breath and said, "Jenna was struggling with her feelings for me, and she asked if I'd kiss her. I did, and … she liked it."

"Uhm … I guessed that part," Hennessey said.

"We just played around for a while," Townsend explained. "I thought we'd leave it at that, but she insisted that she wanted more."

"Only Jenna wanted more?" Hennessey asked, her tone implying that the question was rhetorical.

"No, I wanted more too. Holding her and feeling her body against mine set me on fire, Hennessey. All of the sexuality we've both been suppressing just bubbled up. Before I knew it, we were both naked and making love."

"Does she … please you?" Hennessey asked, her voice sounding strained.

"Only sometimes," Townsend admitted. "She's got a lot of programming that she's trying to get past, Hennessey. Sometimes it gets overwhelming for her and she has to stop. But when she's able to really be there and focus on the pleasure, rather than the bad messages, she's … she's learning to express herself," she said, trying hard not to be too graphic.

"She's doing better than I ever did," Hennessey said, "and I didn't get a lot of negative messages. I guess I'm just fucked up."

"Hennessey please, please do what I asked of you. You've got the whole summer, and I'm sure you could find a therapist in Hilton Head. You could talk to someone and have a place to vent your anger as well as your feelings about sex. Please, baby."

"I'll think about it," Hennessey replied, giving the impression that she would do no such thing.

"Fine." Townsend sighed and asked, "Anything else?"

"Yeah. What did you mean when you said that sex was weird for you since you stopped drinking?"

"Hennessey, I've been doing everything through a haze of alcohol since I was a kid. I've never been vulnerable with another person. I've never really shown anyone what was in my heart. It's a whole new experience, and it's been pretty amazing. Sometimes it's terrifying, but sometimes it's such a blissful feeling that I'm simply blown away."

"I wanted to be the one to blow you away," Hennessey said, her tears starting again.

"I wanted that, too," Townsend agreed. "But we might still have that one day, baby."

"Uhm … I don't feel comfortable talking like that," Hennessey said. "You're with Jenna now, and I'm not going to be a part of breaking you two up. I'd really prefer it if we can just be friends from now on. I can't have it any other way."

"Fine," Townsend said quietly. "I'll try. Anything else?"

"No, that about covers it. I'll think about what you said and we'll talk again. Thanks for responding so quickly."

"That's it? You're gonna hang up?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm so tired," Hennessey said. "I might be able to sleep tonight–now that I know you didn't make the first move on Jenna. That image has been haunting me for weeks now."

"I'm sorry, Hennessey. I really am. For everything."

"So am I," Hennessey said. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you, I'm sorry I wasn't able to have sex, and I'm sorry that you couldn't wait for me. I'm sorry about so many things that I'm sick of being sorry."

"I still love you, Hennessey," Townsend said softly.

"Thanks. Uhm … I'm gonna go now. G'night."

Townsend hung up, and went for a long walk around Boston, struggling to get her emotions under control while being bombarded with images of nothing but Hennessey.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 10, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi, buddy,

I've had some time to go over the things we spoke about the other day, and I'm feeling much better. I know I was an asshole through most of the conversation, and I'm very happy that you didn't hang up on me. Thanks for hanging in there and helping me through the worst of my anger.

I'm in a pretty good place with everything that's happened, and I'm sleeping better, so things must be pretty good in my head, too. I'm starting to enjoy my classes, and the students are no longer trying to transfer out of my sections, so I must be projecting a better mood, too <s>.

The main message I want to give you is that I appreciate the fact that you've gone out of your way to make things easier for me, Townsend. I know it was hard for you to have the phone conversation the other day, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it.

I'm going to do my best to be the friend you deserve, Townsend. It's going to be hard, but I'll try to keep my desire for you from getting in the way, and I'm confident I'll be able to do it. I still want you to come visit, but I doubt you'll be able to, and I swear I'm okay with that. I realize that you have to put Jenna first now. That's the way it is, and the way it should be.

I know it might be uncomfortable, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here for you. I know you as well as anyone in your life, and if I can help smooth the road for you and Jenna, I'm at your disposal.

Even though we may never be lovers, I'll continue to love you for the rest of my life, Townsend. You're the best friend I'll ever have, and I'll do my best to make that always be true.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: July 30, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi there,

As I told you last week when we talked we're leaving tomorrow, and since I’m not going to be taking my laptop with me this is probably the last time I’ll be able to e-mail you for a while. But I’ll write to you the hard way. You’re worth it.

I’m still amazed that my mom seems so excited about taking Jenna with us to Europe. Mom still has her issues, and she still drives me mad a good percentage of the time, but I’ve got to admit that she’s really come through for me this summer.

Jenna’s parents have been supportive in their own way. She thought she’d have a hard time convincing them to let her stay in Boston over the summer, but when my dad got her an internship at his firm, they gave in. Who would have guessed that my parents’ intervention would let me have an opportunity to make a go of my first stable relationship? <s>

Jenna’s a long way from telling her family about us — or telling anyone else, for that matter. She won’t even hold my hand in public, and she’s paranoid about anyone at school finding out — but she has a lot of issues to deal with, so I’m being patient. Yeah, that’s right. I’m being patient. Wonders never cease <s>.

I wish I could have written more this summer, but she’s pretty jealous of our relationship, Hennessey, and I can’t say I blame her. I know that over time she’ll get comfortable with your being my best friend, but right now it’s hard for her. I also don’t think it’s wise to use you as a sounding board for the problems she and I have. It’s sweet of you to offer, but I don’t think it’s fair to you or to Jenna. So, I’ll continue to bore my therapist to death — since that’s why I’m paying her <s>.

Being in a relationship is harder than I would have thought. I guess I fell for the Hollywood hype about everything being easy once you hooked up. But Jenna and I are working hard at this, and it feels good to commit to something.

I know you’re going to love Europe, Hennessey, and I’d give anything to be with you when you arrive. I’m still going to try to come visit you over winter break, but I know you’ll understand if I’m not able to. I could probably talk Jenna into coming with me — but I think that would turn into a disaster. So, if she’s still feeling jealous, I think we’ll have to wait until you return to see each other. Just know that you’re never far from my thoughts. I don’t have to see you to feel close to you, Hennessey, and I hope the same is true for you.

Love,

Townsend

"Hey, Jenna, how many pairs of shoes are you going to bring?" Townsend was speaking into the depths of the closet in her old bedroom at her parent's house in Boston. She was frowning at how she could possibly have as many pairs of shoes lying on the floor while none of them seemed attractive enough to take to Europe with her. She couldn't hear her lover's reply, partially because her closet was so large, and partially because her cell phone started to ring. "I can't hear you, honey, I'll be out in a minute." Pulling the device from her pocket she flipped it open and said, "Hello?"

"Got a minute?"

"Sure, Hennessey. Uhm… let me make sure we have some privacy." She poked her head out of the closet just in time to see Jenna walking down the hall, heading for the bathroom. Townsend closed the closet door and sat down on the floor. "I'm ready. What's going on?"

"I'm scared," Hennessey said, her voice starting to quake.

"Scared? Oh, baby, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of leaving home, being out of the country for a whole year, missing my grandparents, losing you." She sniffed loudly, then said, "Mostly losing you."

"Oh, Hennessey, my sweet, sweet baby. I'll always be your friend. Always."

"I want, I need, a lover, Townsend. I want you as my lover, and I won't ever be happy until I have you."

"Hennessey, I know you're sad now, but give it some time. You're going to be in such a wonderful place, and you'll be learning and experiencing so much. I promise that you'll be so enthralled that you won't have time to focus on our relationship."

"I'll never be too busy to focus on you, Townsend. You fill my mind and my heart. I'd do anything to have another chance. Anything."

"Hennessey, you know I love you, but you need to go to Paris. You need to broaden your mind and your outlook. You need to be open to any new experiences that you encounter. Heck, you might meet some lovely mademoiselle and have a fling. Don't focus on the past, baby. Look to the future."

"I want you to be my future," Hennessey said. "I always will."

"Then spend this year getting rid of the things that stop you from living the life you want. You can't have a future if you're not fully living in the present."

Sighing heavily, Hennessey was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll cancel my plans and return to Harvard this year if you'll give me another chance. I'll go to therapy seven days a week. I'll do anything to make it work."

Forcing herself to remain strong, Townsend softened her voice and said, "I can't do that to Jenna or to you. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. I've dedicated myself to my relationship with Jenna, and I won't give up on it. And you have to figure things out for yourself, Hennessey. I can't do it for you, and I can't make it any easier for you. I'm sorry, but that's the truth."

Once again, Hennessey was quiet for a while. Then she cleared her throat and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called."

"Oh, sweetie, don't be sorry. I'm glad I got to talk to you."

"No, no, I'm not sorry that we spoke. I'm sorry that I tried to pressure you into taking me back. I don't know what in the hell gets into me, Townsend. I call you intending to just say goodbye and wish you a good trip and I find myself begging like a child."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You know how my therapist told me that I was stuck at fourteen because that's when I started to drink?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's a little like that for you. This is the first relationship you've ever had, honey. Most girls start dating when they're fourteen or fifteen. You didn't start until you were almost eighteen and as soon as things got serious you pulled back. You've got to move through the things that most girls get out of the way when they're still in high school. Your brain is very, very mature, babe, but your emotions have some catching up to do."

"I guess you could be right," Hennessey said quietly. "I don't like it, and I hate to agree that I'm that immature, but I guess I have to."

"You're not immature, Hennessey. You're one of the most mature people I've ever met. You're just going to have to progress through some stages that will probably be painful for you."

"Why is growing up always so painful?" Hennessey asked.

"Got me. I think it seriously sucks."

"Seriously," Hennessey agreed, chuckling softly.

"That's my girl," Townsend said. "I knew I could get you to laugh at least once."

"That wasn't really a laugh, but I think it's the best you're gonna get," Hennessey said.

"Have a good time in Paris, stretch, and know that I'm thinking of you … always."

"Me too, baby. You're always in my thoughts. Please try to forget my earlier begging. Rack it up to temporary insanity."

"If I were twice as crazy as you are I'd still be saner than I am now," Townsend said, laughing softly. "You're still my role model."

"I don't know how wise that is, but I appreciate the compliment."

"I've gotta get going now, honey. I'm not even half finished with packing and you know how long it takes me to get ready."

"I'll let you go," Hennessey said, the truth of the words hitting her like a blow. "I love you, Townsend."

"And I love you, stretch. I'll write as often as I can."

"Thanks. I'll do the same. Bye."

"Bye-bye." Townsend hung up and flopped down on the floor. Lying motionless for several moments she felt her heart beating wildly while she struggled to keep from crying. Oh, Hennessey. I love you so much. Please come back to me someday.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: September 09, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Subject: Paris et al

Hi,

As usual, you were right <s>. Now that I'm here, I feel better – much better. I still miss you like crazy, and I'd give anything to be with you, but I'm slowly starting to put things in perspective. I'm going to do my best to grow up a little this year. I need to be a little bit more like you, T – not afraid to take risks.

The school is very good, very challenging, and the amount of work they give us keeps me from having much time to lament my wretched life. Okay, so maybe it's not wretched, but I feel so much more dramatic in Paris <s>.

There are fifteen of us Americans, and we've banded together in a nice clique. Ten women and five men, so we've got the upper hand <s>. I'm the only one from the South, so I still don't have anyone to wax rhapsodic with, but there are some nice people in the group. I'll tell you all about them when I have time – if you're interested that is.

Of course, we Americans are not the only students. There's a big group from Germany, six from Poland, a few from Austria, about a dozen from Spain and ten from Italy. Everyone has a pretty good foundation in French, so that's how we all communicate when we're together. But each group tends to hang out with others from its own country – which only makes sense. At the end of a long day, it's nice to speak without having to think about it – and without being corrected for our poor grammar or, in my case, for having the world's worst French accent <s>.

I could tell you all about Paris, but I know you've been here dozens of times, so I won't take your time doing that. My main message is that I love you with all my heart, and I want you to be happy. I'm sorry that I called you before I left, T; that was thoughtless of me. I put you in a very awkward position, and I hope you can forgive me for that. I like Jenna, and I think she's very good for you. Part of loving someone is wanting what's best for her, and I think you have it. In retrospect, it would have been a mistake for both of us if I'd come back to Boston this year. Thanks for helping me keep my head on straight.

Even though I'm far from home, you're always with me, T. You'll always be a part of me, no matter who you're romantically involved with. I'm going to try to be a good friend to you, and support you in every way that I can. I'll be very busy, but I'll make time to write to you as often as you want. You can tell me anything, and I'll keep it in the strictest confidence.

I hope things are going well for you, and that you're able to write back soon.

All my love,

Hennessey

From: Tamara Armstrong <tcarmstrong@masscollege.edu> Sent: September 11, 1996

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi buddy,

I hope this doesn't upset you too much, but Jenna saw your e-mail, and the shit really hit the fan. I'm using my friend Tammy's e-mail account because Jenna's so suspicious that I'm afraid she'll go through my sent items when I'm not home.

I'm not as honest and forthright with Jenna as I am with you, Hennessey, but that's only because she feels so unsure of herself and of us. She's sure that I'll go back to you as soon as you return from France, and now that she's seen your note, she's surer of that than ever.

I know you didn't have any way of knowing she'd snoop, but I can't take the risk, baby. I hope you understand, but we're going to have to be much more circumspect in our communication. I hate to do that, Hennessey, but I don't see any other way.

You know how interested I am in everything that's going on with you, but I think I'll have to call you to get up to date. E-mail is just not going to work.

If you need to talk to me, send me an e-mail and say something like, "I can't wait to talk to you when I get back" or something equally innocuous. I'll call you as soon as I can if you send me a message like that. I wish there were some other way, but I can't think of it.

Feel free to reply to this address. I told Tammy that you'd probably write back. She's pretty discrete; I don't think she'll read your reply.

I love you, and I'm sorry this is turning out so badly.

T

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: September 30, 1996

To: Tamara Armstrong tcarmstrong@masscollege.edu

Subject: For Townsend

Hi,

You can't imagine how bad I feel about this, T. I never, ever meant to cause any trouble for you, but it sure seems that's just what I've done.

I appreciate your attempt to find a way for me to contact you when I need to, but I don't feel comfortable with that. The only way to have a good relationship is to be as honest as you can possibly be , and finding ways to talk without Jenna's knowledge is not going to help you two , at all.

I have friends here, T, and there are people I can talk to. I appreciate your devotion to our friendship, but it's time for me to branch out and bring some other people into my inner circle. In the long run, it will be good for me. I need to open up more, and I'm going to look at this as a growth opportunity.

I still have Robin to write to, and she's very good at keeping me up to date on things in Boston. I think I'll ask her to call you every once in a while and check up on you , just to put my mind at ease. Other than that, I think we should keep our correspondence to a minimum. It's not what I want, and I know it's not what you want, but I think it's something we have to do. You have to devote yourself to Jenna, and having a clandestine correspondence with me is just plain wrong.

I'll be fine, Townsend, and I know you will be, too. We don't have to talk frequently to remain best friends. No matter where you are, you're still in my heart.

Always,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: December 20, 1996

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Subject: Christmas greetings

Hi pal,

Just a note to wish you a very merry Christmas. I hope you and Jenna get to spend most of your break together and that you have a wonderful time.

With the price of airfares, I can't afford to come home, so I'll be in Paris for the holiday. Luckily, I won't be alone. Six of my American friends will remain here, and we'll celebrate the holiday together. The mother of a friend of mine is French, and her family is coming over for a couple of weeks. They promise to take all of us orphans out for a nice meal on Christmas, so it should be fun.

Not much news, other than the fact that I'm working harder than I ever have. It's so much more difficult to have to learn everything through a foreign language. Even though I thought my French was good, it's still a chore for me. I can't wait until I begin to think in French. My instructors tell me that most people begin to do that after six months or so, but they don't hold out much hope for me <s>. They have given up trying to improve my accent, since I am a hopeless case. You'd think they'd never heard a Southern accent before !<bg>

I'm not sending Christmas presents, but I promise to bring home something nice for you and Jenna. It will be delayed, but it's always nice to have Christmas in June, don't you think?

Be well, and enjoy the holidays.

Joyeux Noel, ma petite chou!

Hennessey

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: May 19, 1997 

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Subject: Summer?

Hi there,

I haven't heard from you since there was snow on the ground. How in the heck are you?

I know your term is over soon, and I don't have a clue about your plans. I assume you'll be back in South Carolina, but if you're coming through New York or Boston, I'd love to hear from you or see you if possible.

Let me know your plans, buddy.

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: May 20, 1997

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi,

You’re gonna laugh, but I started to write this note in French. It’s gonna be a huge adjustment for me to switch back to English full-time, so bear with me. I’m not trying to be a show-off, but I even dream in French now. That’s gonna go over big at home, I’m sure <s>.

As you guessed, I'm going to be back in South Carolina for the summer. Here's my itinerary. I arrive at JFK on June 6. I’m on Delta, and the flight gets in at noon. I leave for Atlanta at around 6:00 p.m., and I’ll call you between flights. I tried to get a direct flight to Boston, but things didn’t work out, so I’m stuck in New York. Please don’t even think of coming to New York to meet me. It would be wonderful to spend six hours with you, of course, but with delays and security, there’s a good possibility that I won’t have much time, if any, between flights.

I hope you know that both you and Jenna are welcome to come visit me in South Carolina. I don’t know how she feels about sleeping on the floor, but we’d love to have you both.

You looked so different in the last picture you sent me, Townsend. You’ve become such a confident looking woman now, there’s hardly a trace of the troubled girl I first met three years ago. Moreover, you look happy and that’s what I’ve always wanted for you.

I’ll miss you this summer, but in any case, I’ll see you in the fall. My last year in Boston… unless I don’t get accepted to any Southern graduate programs <s>.

Love,

H

Part 11

Damn it, damn it, damn it, why can’t I ever be on time? Townsend ran down the crowded aisles of the Delta terminal, cursing herself for not having allowed enough time to make sure she was at the gate to meet Hennessey’s plane. If I don’t find her getting off the plane, I won’t be able to find her until she returns for her departing flight. And I’m not wasting the whole day just to catch a glimpse of her. She was running so fast that she almost didn’t see her, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Hennessey running in the opposite direction.

What the...? Townsend stomped on the brakes and whirled around. "Hennessey!" But the lanky brunette did not hear her cry. Townsend took a few steps in the proper direction, then stopped dead in her tracks. Hennessey was not alone on her mad dash. She was holding the hand of a similarly tall, similarly thin blonde woman, and both of them were laughing wildly.

Townsend stood stock still for another moment, then took off after her friend. Hennessey had a good twenty yards on her by this time, and her long legs were eating up real estate much faster than Townsend’s could, but that didn’t deter the younger woman. Townsend continued to lose ground, and by the time Hennessey and the other woman skidded on the smooth floor and turned right, she had nearly lost sight of them.

Panting heavily, Townsend reached the spot where she thought they’d turned. A quick perusal revealed nothing, and she was about to take off again when she calmed down and spent a moment looking at the line of passengers getting ready to board. There, in the crowd, she saw a flash of long, blonde hair, and before she could take a step towards the woman, she watched in shock as Hennessey wrapped her long arms around the blonde and began to kiss her.

Townsend was stunned, staring open-mouthed as Hennessey frantically placed kisses on every inch of pale, peach-toned skin that her lips could reach. She seemed to be trying to fill herself up to draw as much of the blonde into her own body as she could. The other passengers in the line were staring openly at the rapacious behavior, but it was clear that neither woman was concerned in the least. They seemed only aware of the frenetic merger of their lips and tongues and warm breath.

The line began to move, but Hennessey did not remove her mouth from her friend’s. Finally, they reached the gate attendant, and the blonde blindly thrust her ticket in the general direction of the nonplussed man. She then threw both arms around Hennessey and gave her a scorcher, a kiss heated enough to warm a small village on a very cold day.

Stumbling slightly, Hennessey stepped away from her paramour and waved weakly, her hand barely moving. She managed to tumble into a plastic seat and sat, staring blankly at the door to the Jetway.

Townsend was nearly as breathless as Hennessey was, but summoning her courage, she walked over to the dark-haired beauty and sat down. "I see you’ve gotten over that fear of intimacy thing," she said.

Every emotion at her disposal flashed across Hennessey’s face. Finally, she dropped her head into her hands, mumbling, "Oh, fuck, Townsend, that’s not how I wanted you to find out."

"Well, I’d guess not," the blonde said. She slipped her arm around Hennessey’s back and asked, "Can I have a hug? I’ve missed you so much."

Lifting her head and giving her friend one of her dazzling smiles, Hennessey shifted in her seat and wrapped her arms around Townsend, murmuring into her ear, "I’ve missed you, too. I swear I thought about you every single day."

Smelling the other woman’s perfume on Hennessey’s body, Townsend kissed her friend’s cheek as she pulled away. "You didn’t spend all of your time thinking about me," she said quietly. "Wanna tell me about her?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Hennessey said, looking like she’d rather do anything but. "I’d kill for a decent cup of tea. I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane, and I’m toast."

"Come on. We can get you a little caffeine before you spill your guts." She stood and offered a hand to Hennessey, who gratefully accepted it.

Draping her arm around Townsend’s shoulders, Hennessey dragged her carry-on bag along the floor. "A lot of caffeine would be a better idea," the brunette said. "I’m running on empty."

"A lot of caffeine it is," Townsend agreed. She reached across Hennessey’s body and took the bag from her loose grip. "I know you’re tired when you don’t take care of your things."

"Tired. That’s the word. Tired."

Hennessey looked up with a half smile when Townsend placed her tea in front of her. "Before you start, I have a question," the blonde began.

"Sure. Anything."

"Why didn’t you arrange to fly into Boston? I know you could have if you’d wanted to."

Looking a little uncomfortable, Hennessey said, "Yeah, I could have, but Kate had to make a connection to Chicago, and coming to New York was the only way we could both get to our final destinations on the same day." Her head dropped slightly and she said, "I’m sorry, Townsend. I should have been more thoughtful."

"Do you have to get home today? Camp doesn’t start for a while, does it?"

"No, I guess I don’t have to. The weekend is the busiest time at the restaurant, and no one can come get me from the airport. Ideally, I would go home on Monday, the day they’re closed."

"You know, I haven’t asked much of you in the last year, Hennessey, mostly because you haven’t been here," she said with a small smile, "but I’m asking for something now. Stay here in New York with me until Monday."

"Uhm … how?"

"I took the train down from Boston, but I don’t have anything planned for the weekend. Come on, Hennessey. This is the only time I’m gonna get to see you until September. Please?"

The dark head nodded. "I’ll call my grandparents and tell them my plans have changed. Let’s go."

"How did you manage to be away from me for a year?" Townsend asked, inclining her head in question. "Who ordered you around?"

"It wasn’t easy. Believe me, it wasn’t easy."

Both women were quiet during the cab ride. Townsend was an anxious wreck, fixated on learning who the blonde was and what she meant to Hennessey, but her companion was so tired that she was dozing intermittently as soon as they left the airport.

They arrived at the hotel, and in minutes, they were shown to a spacious room that contained two queen-sized beds. Hennessey gave her friend a sad, knowing smile when she saw the layout, and if the bellman hadn’t been nattering away, Townsend would have burst into tears. It was impossible to believe that two years had passed since she had rented a room for them in Vermont and had managed to convince Hennessey to share a bed with her. But their physical familiarity was a thing of the past, and if Hennessey was as serious about her tall blonde friend as it looked like she was , their intimacy would likely never be reestablished.

The bellman left, and both young women regarded each other with trepidation. "I guess I’ve got some explaining to do, huh?" Hennessey asked, fighting a yawn.

"I don’t think that explaining is the correct term," Townsend said. "But I am interested in what’s going on with you … and why you didn’t tell me." She looked away from Hennessey’s eyes and said, "That’s the part that hurts."

Impulsively, Hennessey took Townsend by the hand and led her to an overstuffed chair. She sat down and pulled the smaller woman onto her lap. For several minutes she didn’t say a word, she merely cried until she was gasping for breath. "I never, never meant to hurt you," Hennessey finally said. "I was so conflicted, Townsend. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to do it in an e-mail. That seemed so cold. I still love you so very much," she sobbed.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know you do," Townsend said, smoothing the dark hair back from Hennessey’s face. "I know you love me, just like I love you."

"Yeah … just like you love me," Hennessey murmured. "I didn’t want this to happen; I truly didn’t. But Kate and I started to click, and we finally found ourselves kissing one night. I was so confused, Townsend. I didn’t know what to do. But Kate and I talked about it for a long time. I told her how I felt about you and about how I wanted to wait for you."

"Hennessey, I didn’t expect you to wait for me,”

"I know that. But I wanted to. I wanted you to be the only woman I’d ever loved. I wanted to look back on my life when I was an old woman and say, ‘It was always Townsend. Only Townsend …’" She started to sob again, her exhaustion making her more emotional than usual.

"Damn, Hennessey, damn it all to hell! How did this turn out so badly?"

"I wanted you to be happy," the older woman said. "With me or without me, I wanted you to be happy."

Pulling the dark head forward, Townsend repeatedly kissed the soft, smooth skin of Hennessey’s brow. "No one could make me as happy as you do. No one."

"I know … I think … I think I know that," Hennessey said, looking thoroughly confused.

"Come on," Townsend said. "You need to get some sleep. You don’t look like you can put two sentences together."

"God, I’m tired," Hennessey conceded. "I’m not one of those people who can stay up all night and function. Especially when things are so emotional."

Townsend stood and helped her friend up. Hennessey fell onto the bed, still in her sweater, slacks, jacket and shoes. "Come on," Townsend said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let’s get you undressed." She pulled off Hennessey’s loafers, then helped her sit up while she removed her jacket. It was a warm day, and the sun was coming in through the windows, making the room a little close. "Lift your arms." Hennessey did so without complaint, then looked up at her friend. She seemed so young and innocent that Townsend let her maternal feelings take over, and she set upon unfastening her friend’s belt and slacks. "Lift your hips, honey," she instructed, and Hennessey complied. Going to one of the bags, Townsend took out a roomy T-shirt and slipped it over Hennessey’s head. Next she unfastened her bra and slid it down her arms. After tugging the shirt into place, she cocked her head at the questioning look Hennessey was giving her.

"Will you lie down with me? I need to feel you close."

"Of course," Townsend said. She kicked off her shoes, then removed her slacks, cuddling up behind Hennessey in her golf shirt and panties. "How’s this?"

Hennessey took her friend’s hand and tucked it between her breasts. "Now I can sleep," she said, and almost immediately her heavy breathing showed that she meant it.

Townsend woke slowly, slightly disoriented. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but the sun was no longer shining in through the window and her stomach was trying to get her attention. She moved a little, tightening her hold around the long, still lean, but now slightly sturdier woman.

With a soft, but fully awake voice, Hennessey asked, "How can I love both Kate and you? I thought love was something you could only feel for one person."

"Oh, Hennessey," the smaller woman said. "When you learned about Jenna, did you feel that I’d stopped loving you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. I mean, I knew you loved me in a platonic way, but I thought you’d fallen out of love with me."

Squeezing her friend tightly, Townsend said, "Never. I will always love you, and I will always be in love with you … even if we never consummate our love. You’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved, Hennessey, and I won’t ever let you go. Not ever."

"That’s how I feel," the brunette said, her voice rough with emotion. "But I’m so confused, Townsend. Does loving you take away from my feelings for Kate? What about you and Jenna? Is it fair to them?"

"They both know the truth, don’t they? I mean, they know how important we are to each other, right?"

"Yeah, Kate does. But I don’t think she’d feel very good to know I was still in love with you. I think she thinks that’s in the past."

"Jenna probably thinks that, too," Townsend admitted. "But loving someone doesn’t mean they own every bit of your heart, Hennessey. You can’t change the way you feel, you can only change the way you act."

"Speaking of which, Kate wouldn’t like my lying in bed with you. How about Jenna?"

There was a pause, then Townsend said, "I’m not sure what’s going on with Jenna right now. She went to Utah for the summer."

Hennessey sat up and looked at her friend for a moment. Scooting up the bed, she propped a couple of pillows behind her head and said, "That sounds pretty ominous. I thought she was going to work at your father’s firm again."

"That’s what I thought." Townsend got out of bed and put her pants back on, then went to her bag and took out her brush. While brushing the tangles from her hair she said, "I know she loves me, Hennessey. She treats me so well and is so concerned and caring. When we’re alone, I’m … well, I’m loved, and I feel loved. But it’s been a year now, and we’re still entirely closeted. I’ve been pushing her a little, and that was probably a mistake."

"A mistake how?" Hennessey held her hand out and Townsend handed her the brush.

"Her parents called her right before the term ended and said they thought she’d been away from home too long. She’s a very dutiful daughter, so she canceled her plans for the summer and went back to Utah."

"And?" Hennessey asked. "Maybe she just wants to make them happy."

"Oh, she does. She definitely does," Townsend agreed. "We haven’t been able to speak on the phone, but she sends me a long e-mail every day. A couple of days ago she said that her parents suggested that it might be best for her to get her mission over with now, so that she can be ready to marry if she meets someone."

"Marry!?!"

"Yep. Marry."

"Jesus, Townsend, who wants their kid to get married this young?"

"Mormons," Townsend said with resignation. "They don’t believe in having sex before marriage, so they tend to get married pretty young. If Jenna goes on her mission now, she’ll be twenty-two when she returns. They think she should transfer to BYU then, so she can meet a husband."

"Oh, Christ." Hennessey rubbed her tired eyes and asked, "What will she do?"

Townsend sat down on a chair and put her shoes back on. "I need to get something to eat. Room service?"

"Yeah. I don’t feel like going out."

Taking the menu from a drawer, Townsend said, "Take a look while I pee, will you?"

"Sure." When Townsend came back, Hennessey had made her decision and the order was called in. "Do you mind if I don’t get dressed quite yet? I think I’ve got another good nap in me."

"No, that’s fine." Townsend sat down in the upholstered chair and put her feet on the bed. "What will Jenna do … That is the question, isn’t it?"

"Do you think you know?"

"Yeah, I know. I wasn’t sure at first, but over the months, it’s become clear to me even though it doesn’t seem clear to her." She sighed. "Her religion and her family are gonna get her back."

Alarmed, Hennessey asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I’m sure. As I said, she’s still struggling, but I know she can’t break away. She’d lose everything but me , and I’m not enough for her."

"Oh, Townsend, are you sure her family would abandon her? You were so sure they loved her."

"They do, Hennessey, but their faith is such a big part of their lives that things would never be right again. I know that now."

"Shit." Hennessey shook her head while she gazed at her friend.

"Yeah, I fall in love with someone who isn’t completely fucked up, but she loves Jesus more than me. Damn, Hennessey, I should have seen this coming when she kept talking about going on her mission. She was always clear that she was going to go."

"How has she reconciled your relationship with her faith?" Hennessey asked. "Does she realize she’s being a little inconsistent?"

"I’m not sure what she does with this in her head, to tell you the truth. She’s got pretty strong powers of denial. I think she assumed that she’d be able to be a very, very good Mormon and that would somehow make up for the fact that she’s having sex with a woman." Townsend shrugged her shoulders and said, "It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but I can’t make another guess."

"She’ll break your heart if she goes away, won’t she?" Hennessey asked softly.

"Yeah. Definitely. I love her, Hennessey. She’s so easy to love." A slow smile came to her face, and she said, "We’ve been sleeping in a twin bed for most of the year. You get close to a woman when you do that."

"I’d suppose so," Hennessey agreed, smiling back at her friend.

"She sleeps on the outside, and most mornings, I wind up with the wall in my face," Townsend said, chuckling. "But she lifts my hair out of the way and wakes me by placing tiny, soft kisses all over my neck." Looking at her friend with tears in her eyes, she asked, "How can you not love a woman who does that?" There was a sharp knock on the door before Hennessey could answer. "Cover up those long legs," Townsend sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "The room service guy’s only human."

They were fairly quiet while they ate, both of them ravenous. After Hennessey picked up the spent plates and cleaned all of the crumbs off the bed she asked, "Ready to hear my story?"

"I’ve been ready for a long time, pal."

"I’m not really sure where to start, Townsend. How much do you want to know?"

Townsend took a drink of her Diet Coke, giving the question some serious thought. "I want to know everything. I want to know how you met, how you got to be close, how it is between you. I know this will be hard for me to hear, but I need to know, Hennessey, I really do."

Hennessey nodded, then said, "I’ll tell you everything, but if it’s too much, please let me know. I’d do anything in the world not to hurt you."

"I know that," Townsend said. "That’s one thing that’s never, ever been in doubt."

"Okay, here goes." Hennessey was lying on the bed, and she made herself a little more comfortable by propping pillows all around her body. "We met on the first day we were in Paris. The people who ran the program were very methodical, and they organized us alphabetically. Her last name is Brill, and she sat right behind me."

"Is she Jewish?"

"Uh-huh. Well, her father is. Her mom is a lapsed Catholic, and they raised the kids in the Jewish faith."

"Oh, she's the one whose parents went to France for Christmas, right?"

"That's her," Hennessey nodded. "Her mother was born there."

"Uhm … how religious is she?" Townsend asked. "I’m only worried about her moving to Israel or something, I don’t want you to get burned like I did."

Hennessey laughed softly and said, "She goes to temple on high holy days, but that’s about it. She grew up in a very liberal atmosphere, so I don’t think I have anything to worry about on that front."

"Is she out to her parents?"

"Oh, yeah. They’ve known ever since she began to question her sexual orientation. They’re very open with each other. Kate gets a tremendous amount of support from them. She had the least traumatic coming out in history."

"Wow, that’s rare! Where’s she from, anyway?"

"Chicago. Her dad’s a doctor, and her mom teaches French at the University of Chicago. They’re cool people. Her mom was born in Cannes and has the most adorable accent you’ve ever heard. When I met them during Christmas, they just could not have been nicer."

With a frown settling on her face, Townsend asked, "Were you together during Christmas?"

"No, no, not by a long shot." Hennessey smiled at her friend and said, "I could do this chronologically, but you keep asking questions."

"My bad. Go ahead. You’ve just met."

"Yeah, we’ve just met." Hennessey stopped to think for a moment, then said, "We hit it off immediately. She’s not as naïve as I am, but she’s serious and studious and very goal-oriented like me."

"But you like to have fun, too," Townsend reminded her.

"Yeah, I do, and so does Kate. She works hard and plays hard , and that’s something I’d like to be able to do a little more of. She’s helped me loosen up a little bit , to not always think about my obligations first. She’s shown me that having fun is a reward for hard work, and that it’s something I deserve."

"I like her already," Townsend said, giving her friend a small smile.

"Yeah, you would," Hennessey said. "She’s a good person. Anyway, she’s two years older than I am, and she’s going to medical school in the fall."

"Why was she in Paris? I didn’t know you could spend your senior year abroad."

"You can’t. She graduated last year. She was doing this for fun. I think she did it as a small concession to her mom, to be honest. Her mom is supportive of her going to med school, but she knows what a long haul it is. She wanted Kate to have a year where she was able to relax and learn something just for fun."

"That’s not a bad idea," Townsend agreed.

"Yeah, I think it was very good for her. She worked just as hard as I did, and she wasn’t even being graded. As I said, she’s very determined."

"Okay, I think I’ve got that part," Townsend said, smiling. "Then what?"

"Well, we got to be friends. She told me almost immediately that she was a lesbian, and I told her that I was somewhere around there, too, but that I was pretty confused."

"And … she helped clarify things for you?" Townsend asked this in a seemingly neutral tone, but Hennessey caught the innuendo.

"It wasn’t like that, Townsend. It wasn’t."

The blonde got up and took off her pants again, then climbed into bed next to Hennessey. "Would you mind if we’re close while we talk? I might not be so snotty."

Hennessey paused before she answered, and when Townsend could see how deliberately she was considering her reply, she demurred. "It's not important. I know you're uncomfortable,”

"No, I'm not," Hennessey said. She pursed her lips and said, "I know Kate would be." She looked at Townsend and said, "I don't feel right about stopping how I interact with you just because I know she wouldn't like it." Townsend didn't say a thing; she merely waited for Hennessey’s internal monologue to reach its conclusion. The brunette nodded to herself, then said, "I will always be faithful to Kate, but I have to be myself. It feels right to hold you right now, Townsend, so c’mere if you still want to."

"I do," Townsend admitted, "but I don't want to do anything to harm your relationship, buddy."

"Don't worry about it. As long as my behavior is innocent, I shouldn't worry about what Kate would think if she were here."

Townsend shrugged her shoulders and lay down next to her friend. Hennessey wrapped her arm around the blonde and cuddled her close. "Comfy?"

"Very. When I'm close to you, I feel able to control my sharp tongue."

"It's not so sharp," Hennessey said, chuckling when Townsend stuck it out at her. "Okay, here's the rest of the story." She took a breath and ordered her thoughts, saying, "Over time, Kate did help me figure out that I was a lesbian. We talked and talked and talked, and I finally realized that I was just frightened. I figured out that I’d been afraid of the power of my sexuality and of what releasing it might do to my plans."

"Your plans?"

"Yeah. It felt so powerful when you and I kissed, Townsend. It was so easy for me to lose control. I felt like I had to either maintain my distance or give in and let it take over my life. I know it sounds strange, but I think that’s what was on my mind."

"And Kate helped you figure this out?"

"Yeah. She told me that my sexuality was probably so powerful because it never got released. She assured me that once I fell in love with someone and made love with her, it would just become another part of my life , it wouldn’t have to take over."

"You were really worried about that?" Townsend asked, thoroughly surprised.

"I didn’t know I was," Hennessey explained, "but Kate has a way of getting to the heart of a problem. She’s very perceptive , she knows how to get inside."

"Okay, so you realized that you were frightened of your sex drive. Then what?"

"We spent a lot of time together over Christmas break. It was so nice to see her with her parents , they’re a nice group to be around. Her younger brother came along, too, and even though he’s my age and as cute as a bug, I realized that I had to be a lesbian because the only Brill I was interested in was Kate."

"Uh-huh," Townsend said quietly. "What did you do about that discovery?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing at first." Shifting slightly, Hennessey reached over and tilted Townsend’s head up so that she could see her eyes. "Are you sure you want to know all of this? How will it help you?"

"No, I don’t want to know this, Hennessey, but I need to. I need to know that you’re happy. I need to know that she’s right for you. It might … it might help me to let go a little bit."

Smiling gently, Hennessey ran her finger down the crease that had formed on her friend’s brow. "Can’t you just trust me to know that I’m happy?"

"No. I wish I could, but you’ve never done this before. I’ve made every mistake in the book, and I might be able to help you to avoid repeating some of them."

"I’m not making a mistake, Townsend. I know this is right for me."

Pouting slightly, Townsend nodded. "Okay. Let’s drop it."

Hennessey leaned over and kissed her friend on the top of her head. "I’ll tell you everything, if you’re sure you want to hear it."

"Yes. I do," Townsend murmured.

"All right, baby. I’ll tell all." She sighed and said, "Part of what attracted me is that Kate is more mature than I am." She gave Townsend a sad look and said, "I’ve had to be an adult my whole life. I’m my parents’ parent , and to be honest, I’m sick of it. I want to act my age for a change, and I can do that with Kate." Townsend laid her head back on Hennessey’s breast and nodded. Neither woman mentioned the fact that Hennessey had, for a long time, been the adult in their relationship too , neither had to. "She takes care of me, Townsend, and only my grandparents had ever done that. She doesn’t boss me around or anything , she just helps me figure things out; she guides me."

"That must feel wonderful for you," Townsend said quietly.

"It does; it really does."

"So, did she guide you to bed?" Townsend asked, trying to keep the rancor from her voice.

"No, she’s not like that." Hennessey’s tone was a little sharp, and Townsend reminded herself to back off. "It was Easter, and I was telling her about the Easter egg hunts we used to have back home and reminiscing about the candy we used to eat. Suddenly, she got up and took my hand, and we went to a little shop that made the best chocolate candy I’ve ever had in my life. She bought so much of it, I’m sure it cost her a fortune, but she was so happy to do it for me." She smiled, and even though Townsend couldn’t see her face, she knew the smile was there. "We went back to her room and started eating this fabulous stuff, but it was so rich that I could only eat a few pieces. We both collapsed onto her bed and just lay there for a few minutes. I’d never been that close to her physically, and I started to… want her."

She paused for so long that Townsend finally said, "Go on, please."

"Okay … she was obviously feeling the same, because she rolled over and touched my cheek , turning my face towards hers. Lying there that close to her took my breath away. She’s so beautiful, Townsend. She’s … she’s beautiful inside and out."

"So you made love," Townsend said, wanting to get past the inevitable.

"No, we didn’t. She said that she’d been wanting to do something since the day we’d met, and that she couldn’t hold off any longer." Hennessey gave her friend a hug and said, "We kissed. Gently … slowly. For a long time. A very long time. It was … it was wonderful."

"Why didn’t you make love?" Townsend asked in a very quiet voice.

"Because as soon as I got my wits about me, I burst into tears," Hennessey said, laughing softly at herself.

"You what?!?"

"You heard me. I started to cry, and I told her that I couldn’t be with her… because of you."

"Oh, Hennessey, no!"

"Yep. Like I told you, she’s very understanding. We got up and went out for tea, she likes tea, too, and I told her everything about you. Well, not the struggles you’ve had, but how I felt about you."

"Hennessey, it’s okay if you tell people about my past. It would help her to understand you better."

"No. I’ll never do that, Townsend. Your secrets will always be safe with me. I promised you that, and I will keep that promise."

Giving her a squeeze, Townsend said, "I appreciate that. But if you need to tell her, you have my permission."

"Okay. I won’t, but thanks."

Lightly rapping on her friend's head, Townsend said, "Hard head."

"Yep. That’s kinda what Kate said when I told her that you’d been in a relationship for almost a year."

"I can imagine," Townsend said, chuckling softly.

"I told her what you’d said about how we both might need to experiment a little."

"And she said …?"

"She didn’t say a thing. She just lifted one of her beautiful blonde eyebrows and stared at me. She stared at me like she could see right through my clothes. I nearly passed out," Hennessey said, laughing at herself.

"Sounds like a smart girl," Townsend said.

"She is smart, smart enough to know not to pressure me. It was my decision, and I told her that I thought we should think about it overnight. I wanted her to understand what you meant to me, I didn’t want our libidos to be in charge."

"Jesus, Hennessey, you have to let go! You have to let your libido be in charge once in a while."

"I know that," the older woman said. "It's taken me much longer than it should have, but I know that now."

"Well, when did you let your libido be in charge?"

"The next day. It was Easter Sunday, and she showed up at my room early in the morning with a bouquet of flowers." Hennessey smiled. "I got the impression she’d decided she wanted to go forward despite my ineptitude. She took me out to breakfast, just my usual tea and bread with jam , but it tasted better than I could ever remember. My senses felt so alive."

"You were ready to open up," Townsend said.

"Yeah, I was. But I was nervous, and it didn’t take a psychic to figure that out. Kate took me to a lovely little park, and we watched the swans swim in a small lake. There was no one around since it was still quite early, and we started to kiss again. It didn’t take long for me to lose my nervousness, and if I weren’t such a good girl, we would have done it right there."

"When you get going, you only have one speed," Townsend said, recalling the passion that lurked just beneath the surface of her friend’s calm demeanor.

"Yeah, that’s about it. We went to my room, since my roommate was away for the weekend, and… we made love. It wasn’t just sex, and it wasn’t just experimentation, and I knew that as soon as we started. I was in love with her, and I had been for a long while, I just hadn’t let myself know it."

"Did you feel that she loved you, too?"

"Yeah," Hennessey smiled. "You don’t touch someone like Kate did if you just want her for sex. She touched me so lovingly, so gently. It was a wonderful first time, Townsend; it really was."

"And the second and third times?"

"Well, those were all on the same day, but if you’re wondering, we get along very, very well. She’s shown me that you can be loving and passionate and a little wild all at the same time. She’s a very good lover, and I’m … I’m making progress," Hennessey said, blushing pink.

Townsend stretched a little, then got up. She walked over to the mini-bar and took out a Diet Coke. Slowly, she went to the window and stared out at the New York traffic. "Why could you let go for her and not me?"

Hennessey slipped out of bed and started to walk over to Townsend, but she felt uncomfortable in just a T-shirt, so she put her pants back on. Padding over to her friend, she slid her arms around her and held her gently. "I've thought more about that than is probably wise," she said. "I've talked to Kate about it a lot, too. I think I finally understand."

Turning to face her, Townsend's chin lifted just enough so that she could look directly into Hennessey's eyes. "Tell me."

Townsend looked like a dog that was about to be kicked, and Hennessey tried to reassure her. Tightening her embrace, she said, "It's not a question of desirability. I've been incredibly attracted to you since I first saw you."

Townsend gave her a sad smile and nodded. "I know that. I'm … I'm afraid you're going to say that you weren't able to trust me, and that's gonna break my heart."

Hennessey smiled at her, a warm, loving smile. "Nothing could be further from the truth. I trust you with my life, Townsend. I didn't trust you three years ago, but I do now. It had nothing to do with that."

"Then what is the reason?"

The brunette blinked slowly, trying to make sure she explained herself properly. "When Kate first kissed me, she acted like she was kissing a soap bubble." She laughed at her description and continued. "Honestly, she was so gentle and careful with me, Townsend. After every kiss she pulled back and looked into my eyes, making sure that I was all right. It was just right for me. Just perfect."

"Go on. I know there's more."

"Okay. Her pace was very slow, but she was never tentative or hesitant. She seemed so in control, and that made me feel safe."

With her blonde head shaking, Townsend said, "That's what trust is, Hennessey."

"No, no, it's not. I trust you, Townsend. Believe me, I do. But Kate made me feel… like I was in control. Somehow that made all the difference."

Her brow furrowed and Townsend said, "I thought you said that she was in control."

"That's the thing," Hennessey said. "We were both in control. She was so deliberate and careful that I knew I could let go a little. But at the pace we were going, I knew I could regain control if I needed to. It never felt overpowering for me."

"Never?" Townsend raised an eyebrow.

"Not the first time we made love," Hennessey said. "It was loving and sweet and gentle but not overpowering. When we were finished, I felt like I'd been held and rocked by someone who loved me, not like I'd been ravished."

Townsend blinked, and before Hennessey could say another word she started to cry.

"Hey, hey," Hennessey soothed. "Don't take that the wrong way, baby. All I'm saying is that every time we started to get serious about sex, I would lose control and feel like I couldn't get it back. Each time felt like I was falling off a cliff, and that made it too scary for me. You didn't do anything wrong, and I didn't do anything wrong, honey, I just didn't know how to communicate my needs."

"How did you tell Kate?" Townsend asked, still sniffling.

"I didn't. She just knew."

Townsend rolled her eyes and said, "So I'm punished because I'm not intuitive enough to know what you want?"

"You're not being punished," Hennessey said. "And you are intuitive. When you describe how you were with Jenna, it sounds just like Kate was with me. How did you know to be gentle and slow with her?"

"She acted like she was afraid," Townsend said. "I wanted to make her feel safe and protected."

"That's the same thing Kate did," Hennessey said.

"But you never acted like you were afraid," Townsend said. "You always jumped in and started pushing me, hell, you acted like you were the one with all the experience!"

"I know, I know!" Hennessey said, her excitement showing. "But Kate listened to me talking about how it had been between you and me, and she figured out that she had to slow me down. That first night, I kept trying to pull her to me or push her onto her back, but she wouldn't let me. She forced me to go slowly, Townsend. I'm not sure how she knew it, but that was the key. She forced me to go slowly."

"Fuck me," Townsend said. "I lost you because I couldn't figure that out."

"No, no, please, don't think of it like that. You're not to blame, baby. It just worked out between me and Kate, and no one can know if it would have worked even if you'd done the same things. Things just happen."

Townsend nodded, then walked over and sat down on the upholstered chair. "So now what? When will you see her again?"

"Uhm … soon. She’s gonna come to South Carolina for a week before I start camp."

"Are you going to tell your family?"

"I’m not planning on it, at least not right now. My grandparents are good people, but it’s gonna take them a while to get used to the fact that I’m friends with a Jewish woman , much less that she’s my girlfriend."

"Oh, wow, are you shitting me?"

"No. I don’t think my grandparents know any Jews. It’s gonna be an adjustment. They’re still suspicious of you for being an Episcopalian."

"Unbelievable," Townsend said.

"Yeah, we’ve got our work cut out for us. But I will tell them. I can’t love Kate and hide it from the people I’m closest to. That’s not fair to any of them."

"What about next year?"

"Well," Hennessey said, "Kate got into three schools: the University of Chicago, Penn and Duke. I’d been talking up the South so much that she finally decided on Duke."

"Plus, she figured that she’d be sleeping with you by the time she got there," Townsend said.

"I can’t guess about that. She might have had a master plan, but I prefer to think that I’m just a good salesperson for the South."

"That’s probably true," Townsend agreed. "So, it’s gonna be a lonely year for you, huh?"

"Yeah, somewhat. But I’ll have you close by, and you’re never a consolation prize. This will likely be our last year living in the same city, Townsend, unless I convert you to the South, too. So let’s make the most of it."

"You’ve got it, babe. If Jenna and I break up, we can start our own little lonely hearts club."

"I have a feeling you won’t be single for long," Hennessey said, smiling.

"I don’t know how I’ll handle it. I’ve never had my heart broken … except by you," Townsend said. She started to cry again, her sobs so forceful that Hennessey knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Townsend pressed her face against Hennessey's chest and cried, her body shaking. Hennessey joined her, her tears sliding down her face and into Townsend’s golden blonde hair.

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: July 30, 1997

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi buddy,

Well, Jenna finally made up her mind. In September she’s going to the Missionary Training Center in Provo. She’s not sure where she’ll be sent , it could be anywhere in the world, but she’s been told that it will be in a warm climate. I guess that’s good , but it will probably be subtropical. Her clothing list didn’t even include a sweater or a coat. She’s going to have some adjusting to do. She’s not allowed to wear slacks or jeans or golf shirts or T-shirts for the duration. Her mission is eighteen months, but she has to stay at the training center in Provo until they decide she's ready.

She sent me the schedule for the training center, and it was brutal. They study and pray for up to twelve hours a day. She’ll only have about an hour of free time, and she won’t be able to spend it talking to me. They want her to get used to being away from home, so they discourage phone calls.

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but you probably know that the Mormons have very strict rules about sex before marriage. They also have very negative views on homosexuality. One of the ways they "help" people lead a pure life is to have everyone keep an eye on everyone else. She showed me a long document that she was given on how to avoid the temptation of masturbation. One of the suggestions was to make sure you were never alone when you felt tempted. I have a feeling that Jenna won’t have a moment alone for a long, long time.

I can’t guess how long she’ll be at the training center, but Jenna’s gonna have to learn Spanish or Tagalog or Portuguese, and since languages aren’t her best thing, they may keep her a while <s>.

I don’t know how I can bear to include a smile in this message. My heart feels like it’s broken in two. She claims that she loves me as much as ever, but that this is something she has to do. She also says that she’ll figure out a way for us to be together when she’s finished , but I don’t see how that’s possible. They’re going to be beating Mormonism into her for twelve hours a day, and when she’s on her mission, she’ll be expounding on it all day for eighteen months. How can you walk away from almost two years of negative messages about same-sex relationships and jump right back into one?

Jenna is so very special, Hennessey, but she’s not the kind of girl who puts her own needs first. I know she feels torn right now, and I know she believes we’ll be together again , but I don’t. I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s talked her parents into letting her meet me in Aspen for four days next week. I’m sure this will be our last four days together, and even thinking about it makes me cry. I don’t know how I’ll let her go, Hennessey. She means so much to me. I’ve loved two women, and I’ve lost them both. The problem doesn’t seem to be with the women , so it must be me. What is it, Hennessey? Do you love me enough to tell me what I’m doing wrong?

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: August 01, 1997

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi sweetheart,

Your note just about broke my heart. I can’t tell you how sad it makes me to learn that Jenna won’t be with you this year. I know how much you care for her, and I fervently hope that she’s able to keep her promise to return to you.

Class starts soon, and I haven’t had breakfast, so I don’t have much time. But I have enough time to tell you one very important thing. There is nothing in the world wrong with you, Townsend. And I’m certain that Jenna would agree with me. We both love you, circumstances have just prevented each of us from being with you. It was a timing problem for you and me, and Jenna’s just following the path that has been set for her since she was born. There’s a chance that she’ll be able to choose her own path, Townsend, but even if she isn’t able to, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you, it only means that she was unable to make the brave choice. Give her some time, baby. Let her see how the separation settles for her. Her feelings for you might actually strengthen because of the distance; you won’t know until you see what happens. Don’t give up yet, Townsend. You’re not a quitter, you’re a winner.

All my love,

Hennessey

Part 12

Townsend paced up and down in front of the gate, having arrived a full half-hour before Hennessey was scheduled to deplane. Finally the doors opened, and after dozens and dozens of people streamed out, Hennessey’s dark head came into view. "Hennessey!" the smaller woman cried, waving energetically.

"Hi, sweetheart," Hennessey said, wrapping her arms around her friend even while other passengers jostled them. "I missed you."

"Oh, I missed you, too. It was all I could do not to come down to South Carolina and join your writing class. I had some close calls, baby." Her voice had grown so soft that Hennessey had to strain to hear her, but she nodded and pulled her friend out of the crowd.

"I’m sure you did, but you didn’t drink. That’s all that matters. You didn’t drink."

"No, I didn’t, but it worries me that even after all this time, I still have such a strong urge. That’s frightening, honey."

"I know it is, and you might feel that way for a long time , especially when you’re upset or under a lot of stress. But you resisted it, Townsend. You resisted the urge." She hugged her friend close to her body one more time, holding on for a long while. "I’m proud of you. Very, very proud."

"Thanks. It’s been hard, but I’m getting used to being proud of myself. It’s … different … but very, very nice."

"Let’s go, pal. Time to get settled in our dorms. School starts tomorrow."

"Blechh!"

"How was your first week of school?" Hennessey asked when the pair met for dinner several days later.

"Eh … all right. I think I might move out of the dorm at the end of the term, though. My parents say they trust me enough to let me get an apartment, and I think it might be time for me to move on."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not a big one. But I’ve got a new roommate, and she’s a real tightass. I don’t want to waste my time living with someone I don’t like."

"Why not move out now?" Hennessey asked.

Townsend gave her a puzzled look and said, "My parents have already paid for my room and board for the term. I don’t want to waste their money."

Hennessey reached over and grasped her friend’s hand. "That is so nice to hear."

"Huh?"

Giving Townsend a very big smile, Hennessey said, "Two years ago you would have delighted in wasting your parent’s money. You’re so much more respectful now."

Townsend shrugged her shoulders, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, I’m still hard to deal with," she said, blushing mildly.

Looking directly at her, Hennessey said, "No, you’re not. You used to be, but you’re not now. You’ve grown so much," she added. "It’s wonderful to see, babe."

Dropping her head just a little, Townsend picked at her food and said, "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Hey, just for grins, why not check with the school and see if your parents can get a refund if you move out early."

"Can you do that?"

"Can’t hurt to check," Hennessey insisted, adding a wink.

A month later, Hennessey rang the buzzer for the top floor of a neat brick apartment building in Cambridge. Townsend buzzed her in, and the lanky brunette took the stairs two at a time, getting to the landing before her friend could get the door unlocked. "Hi, there," she said, leaning against the doorjamb as though she’d been waiting for hours.

"Get in here, you nut." Townsend took her friend by the arm and pulled her into the apartment.

Looking around with her usual deliberation, Hennessey nodded approvingly. "Nice. Very, very nice. I think someone had a decorator," she said.

Shrugging, Townsend said, "My mom offered, and who was I to say no?"

"Hey, if my mom offered to rent me an apartment and have it decorated, I wouldn’t say no, either," Hennessey said, giving her friend a winning grin.

"Okay, time to stop gawking and start eating. I made this dinner with my own little hands, so let’s eat it before it gets cold."

"You made dinner yourself? Really?"

"Yep. If I’m going to live alone, I’m going to have to learn how to cook for myself. I refuse to eat fast food for every meal. Besides, I feel better when I eat better."

Townsend took Hennessey’s light jacket and hung it in the hall closet, then led her into the good-sized kitchen. "I don’t have the skills to do anything fancy," she said, "but I managed to roast a chicken and make some roasted rosemary potatoes."

"Damn, Townsend, that looks fantastic!" Hennessey slung her arm around her friend and gave her a hug. "I’m very, very impressed!"

"I made a salad, too," the younger woman said. "I have a few different dressings in the fridge. Pick whatever you like."

On her way to the refrigerator, Hennessey was, as usual, checking out every detail that her eyes lighted on. "This is such a nice place, Townsend. I’m really glad that you decided to do this. I think it was time for you to have your own apartment."

"Yeah, I think it was. It hasn’t been very hard to deal with all of the partying and drinking in the dorm, but I don’t like being around it. Why ask for temptation, ya know?"

"I do know." Hennessey brought the salad dressing to the table and poured a modest amount on the lettuce, while Townsend carried the dishes over.

When they both sat down, Hennessey looked at her friend and asked, "Have you heard from Jenna this week?"

"Yeah. Today." Townsend took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "They’re sending her to a different place than they had originally planned."

"She’s not going to the Philippines? But she's already started to learn Tagalog!"

"Oh, no, she’s still going there, but she was supposed to go to Manila. Now she's going to a place I had a hard time finding on a map."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Cebu," Townsend said. "It's an island, not that that's news, since the Philippines is made up of islands, but it's very, very far away from a major city. She's going to have to get used to living in a very, very rural place."

"She’s not going to be camping, is she?" Hennessey asked. "I mean, she’ll be indoors at least at night, right?"

"Yeah, of course she will," Townsend said. "But she talked to someone who recently returned from the Philippines, and she told her that she didn't see carpeting the whole time she was gone. I’m worried about her, Hennessey. She’s not very worldly, and I’m afraid that being thrown into a new environment, in a new culture, and being forced to speak a foreign language are going to be very, very hard for her."

"I’m sure it will be hard for her," Hennessey said, "but you have to trust that she’s doing something that means a lot to her. I’m sure she can rally."

"I know, I know," Townsend said, looking a little embarrassed. "I just can’t help worrying about her."

"I don’t blame you, buddy. I know I’d be wild if Kate were in the same position. And I’m guessing that you won’t be able to talk much."

"Probably not at all," she said. "I’ll be able to write to her, but I’ll have to be very circumspect. She won’t have any privacy, and she can’t afford to be found out."

"It’s gonna take a lot of patience, honey, but I know you can handle this , if you want to hang in there."

Townsend looked at her friend with deep sadness in her eyes. "I don’t have any choice. I love her too much to let go."

Two weeks later Townsend was still very down about Jenna's absence. Hennessey had spent the whole week trying to think of something that would cheer her friend up and she finally decided that a change of scenery might be just the thing. "Hey," she said when she called. "Wanna get away for the weekend?"

"Away? What kind of away?"

"I'd like to get out of town while it's nice. I thought we could go somewhere to shake things up a little bit."

There was a pause and Townsend said, "Are you trying to take my mind off my troubles?"

"That might be part of my agenda," Hennessey said. "But it's not the only item. I haven't seen much of New England, and since I'm only going to be here for the rest of the school year, I need to make use of my weekends."

"Whatever happened to the old Hennessey?" Townsend asked. "I remember when you would check your watch every half hour because you wanted to go home and study when we were on our Friday night dates."

"That was, in fact, the old Hennessey. One of Kate's positive influences has been to make me realize I don't have to kill myself to get good grades. I don't have to work twice as hard as everyone else. I'm as bright as anyone here, and if my fellow seniors can goof off a bit, I can too."

"Well! That's quite a declaration of independence," Townsend chuckled. "I agree that we need to celebrate your freedom. Got any ideas about what you'd like to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I looked on the Internet and found some youth hostels in Maine , "

"You're on drugs," Townsend said, laughing. "I'll plan this weekend, pal."

"I don't have much money," Hennessey warned.

"I know that," Townsend said, giving her an indulgent smile. "Don't worry about a thing."

On Friday afternoon Townsend picked Hennessey up in a sleek, shiny, green Jaguar. "Nice car," Hennessey said, after stowing her bag in the back seat. "Your mom's?"

"Yeah. She's into SUV's now, so this one doesn't get much exercise."

Giving her a half smile, Hennessey said, "That's a problem I don't think I'll ever have."

"Hey, you never know, stretch. You might become a world-famous author and be swimming in dough."

"I guess that's a possibility, but it's more likely that I'll be just another anonymous university professor who dreams of writing the great American novel, but never gets around to it."

Townsend gave her a quick look and said, "Who's that talking? That's very pessimistic for you, babe. Everything all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Hennessey said. "I'm just fine. I don't think I'm being pessimistic, either. I'm just a realist, Townsend. It's very tough to have a full time career and find time to write. Not many people can do it, especially if you want to have a family."

"My mother …" Townsend started to say, then caught herself. "Okay, my mother isn't the best example. I don't think I saw her for more than an hour a day when I was growing up, but some authors must be good parents."

"I'm sure they are," Hennessey agreed. "I just don't know that I could be one of them , especially if I'm teaching."

"You know," Townsend said, "you've never talked about this, but what would you rather do , teach or write?"

"Are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope. Just sit back and enjoy, and while you're enjoying the view, answer my question."

"Yes, ma'am," Hennessey said, grinning. "I'd say that I have to write. It's more than a hobby; it's a compulsion. So even if I never publish anything substantial, I'll always write. But I love teaching, too. I couldn't write all day; a couple of hours is as long as I can concentrate properly. So I suppose my ideal would be a light teaching load with enough time to be able to write a bit every day."

"That sounds like a nice plan," Townsend said. "I think you'll be able to do it, bud. Especially if Kate's a doctor."

"Oh, Kate's gonna be a doctor," Hennessey said. "No doubt about it."

They drove in silence for a while, trying to work their way through the heavy Cambridge traffic. Townsend glanced at her friend, seeing the happy, peaceful expression on her face. "Hennessey? Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Do you miss Kate?"

"Huh? Of course I do!" Hennessey's blue eyes were wide, and she gave Townsend a very puzzled look. "Don't I act like I do?"

"Uhm… to be honest, no."

"What?!?"

"You heard me," Townsend said. "You act perfectly happy, not like someone who's pining away for her lover."

"Huh." Hennessey reached up and scratched her dark head, then furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure I know how I'm supposed to act. I've never had a lover before."

"There isn't a script, Hennessey. You're either lonesome or you're not."

Hennessey turned and looked out the window for a while, obviously thinking about the question. "I guess I have to admit that I'm not lonesome, Townsend. Is that bad?"

"Bad?"

"Yeah, I don't wanna be screwing up this girlfriend thing. If I'm supposed to be lonesome, I'll try to work on it."

She looked so sincere that Townsend wasn't sure if she was joking or not. "Are you …?"

"I'm joking," Hennessey said, chuckling. "I know I can't force myself to be lonesome, but I am a little puzzled. Are most people lonesome when they're alone?"

"I don't know about most, but I miss Jenna so much, I ache," Townsend said. "I think about her every day, usually many, many times. When I lie in bed at night, I feel so incomplete , like everything would be okay again if she were just here."

"Hmm…" Hennessey gave her friend a thoughtful look and said, "Maybe that's the difference. I know that Kate loves me and we'll be together as soon as this school year's over. You're… not as certain about Jenna."

Nodding, Townsend said, "You might be right. I feel like I've lost Jenna, for good. You know that Kate's away because she has to be, not because she wants to be."

"Hey." Hennessey patted her friend's leg, then gave it a squeeze. "Jenna's doing what she thinks she has to, baby. She doesn't want to be in a foreign country, does she?"

Townsend sniffed a little, then wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No, she doesn't want to be. She can't be very forthright in her letters because people read them, but she sounds very depressed."

"People read her letters?!?"

"Yeah." Townsend gave her a puzzled look and asked, "Didn't I tell you she wouldn't have any privacy?"

"There's a difference between privacy and spying!"

"I know, I know," Townsend said, her voice sounding strained. "Please, Hennessey, don't get me started. This is her faith, and it means an incredible amount to her. She knew what it was going to be like, and she went into it with her eyes wide open."

"I don't want to rile you up, but what possible reason could they have for reading her mail?" Hennessey asked.

Sighing, Townsend said, "They want to make sure that the missionaries are doing all right. Jenna says that reading the mail that people send to their families is the best way to know if any problems are developing."

"Or to make sure that they can't complain about the problems," Hennessey grumbled.

Townsend shot her a look and said, "You're not helping."

Hennessey closed her eyes for a moment, then patted her friend's leg again. "I'm sorry, buddy. I know you're doing your very best to support her, and the last thing you need is for me to be ragging on her choices."

"S'all right. I know it's hard not to."

"No excuse," Hennessey said. "I promise that I won't do it again."

"Deal. Now I have to focus, so let's drop it. There's a tricky intersection coming up, and I don't want to miss it." Hennessey took a look at Townsend's profile, seeing much more going on in her friend's head than a mere search for an intersection.

In a little over an hour, Townsend put on her turn signal and slowed the car down. "Gloucester?" Hennessey asked. "We're going to Gloucester?"

"Yep. We're going to Gloucester. Ever been?"

"Huh-uh," Hennessey said, her dark head turning quickly so she could see out both windows. "Why are we here?"

"Because we have a place to stay," Townsend explained. "I promised you an inexpensive weekend, and I keep my promises."

They drove along a scenic coastal road, with Hennessey bobbing around so much that Townsend nearly asked her to sit in the back. Approaching a hidden drive, Townsend pulled the Jaguar in, slowing to make her way down the unlit path. "Where in the heck are we?" Hennessey asked.

"My grandmother's house," Townsend replied. "My father's mother."

"Jesus!" Hennessey's eyes widened as the house came into view. It was fully dark out, but the house was lit with spotlights that were obviously hidden in the surrounding trees. "How big is this place?"

"Pretty big," Townsend said. "I think it has seven or eight bedrooms."

"Why on earth does your grandmother need a place like this?"

"Oh, she doesn't. She only uses it in the summer , for parties and things. You know."

"Nice place," Hennessey said, getting out of the car and filling her lungs with the salt-laced air. "Ooh … that's nice," she said, her smile glinting in the moonlight. "Very, very nice."

"You're gonna like it here, stretch. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, I'm usually pretty picky about the mansions I stay in, but I'll give this one a chance."

Late that night they lay in front of the fireplace, the crackling, popping sounds of the blaze punctuating their conversation. Hennessey had made dinner after insisting that she wanted to cook rather than go out. With their stomachs full of bluefish, roasted potatoes and sautéed squash, both women were nearly dozing from the warmth.

Hennessey was lying on her stomach. Townsend was propped up on three pillows, her bare feet close to the fire screen. "I am a happy girl," Hennessey said, her voice slow and soft. "Good food, good fire, good company." The brunette stretched and asked, "Why haven't we come here before? This is such a great weekend house."

"It is a great house, but my grandmother's not a very generous woman," Townsend said. "I think she trusts me now, but she's the type to make a big deal about how I have to be responsible and all sorts of crap. She loves having things that you want and then making you beg to get them."

Shifting up onto an elbow, Hennessey asked, "Did you do this for me? I hate to think of your groveling for a place to stay."

"Oh, no, no," Townsend said, laughing. "She's in China this month. My dad is responsible for her affairs when she's gone. I knew he wouldn't give me any trouble. Actually," she said thoughtfully, "my grandmother might not have given me any trouble, either. I think she's beginning to trust me." She laughed softly and said, "But she's still a tightwad."

They were both quiet for a while, and Townsend thought that Hennessey had fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, Hennessey's quiet voice said, "I can't imagine that everyone in your family isn't proud of you, Townsend."

The blonde sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, cocking her head at her friend. "What makes you say that?"

"You make me say that," Hennessey said. "The changes you've made have been amazing. Don't you get a lot of praise from your family?"

"My mother and father are both proud of me," Townsend admitted, "but the rest of my family is pretty self-obsessed. Of course, my parents are, too," she said, chuckling, "but they've suffered so much that they can't help but notice the improvement."

"I'm not kidding about this," Hennessey said. "I … I don't tell you often enough how impressed I am with you."

"Well, don't let me stop you," Townsend said. "Please, go on." Her green eyes were twinkling in the firelight as she gazed at her friend.

Hennessey swung her legs around and mimicked Townsend's posture. "The changes you've made have impressed me more than anyone else I've ever known," she said softly. "I mean that, Townsend."

Townsend giggled and said, "Don't be ridiculous. I know how you feel about your grandparents and the sacrifices they've made."

"I mean it," Hennessey said again, her expression serious. "My grandparents come from abysmal poverty, Townsend. They're doing what their families have done for countless generations. They're almost like bees in a hive, if you know what I mean. After a while, you don't even think about what you're doing, you just put your head down and work."

"But, Hennessey,”

"But nothing," the brunette said. "I don't in any way demean the things my grandparents have done for me, but I'm still more impressed with the things you've done."

Blonde head tilting, Townsend asked, "Why? I'm … amazed to hear you say that."

"Look," Hennessey said, sitting up straighter, "you had so many choices in your life. One option, one viable option, was to drink yourself into an early grave. Hell, you probably could have afforded a liver transplant or two to keep your body going longer than it should have. You didn't have to stop drinking, Townsend. You chose to." She emphasized the word "chose" so much that it struck Townsend.

"I guess I see what you mean," she said. "I didn't have to quit. I could have kept going, and my parents would have kept bailing me out."

"Exactly," Hennessey said. "They let you run wild when you were sixteen and seventeen years old. I can't imagine what you could have gotten away with as you grew older and could live on your own."

Townsend shivered a little, the thought of herself in that position making her skin crawl. "I didn't know what else to do," she said quietly. "I was so lonely, Hennessey. Drugs and alcohol were my only reliable friends." She smiled at Hennessey. "Until you."

"Hey, I played a role in getting you started, but you did all of the work. All of it," Hennessey emphasized. "That's why I'm so proud of you. You have a strength of spirit that's very rare, Townsend. It's even rarer in people who don't have to change. You didn't have to change, buddy, you chose to. You wanted to save your own life." She wiped a tear from her eye and added, "I admire that more than I can express."

Townsend scooted over to her friend and wrapped her arms around her. "I love you, Hennessey."

"I love you too," the older woman said. "I love you and I respect you, and I always will."

"Do you love me enough to give me a little shoulder rub? I've been so tense lately that my muscles are all knotted up."

"You've got it, bud. Let's go upstairs, and you can collapse as soon as I work my magic."

"You have the best ideas," the blonde said. "Just the best."

Townsend chose the large suite next to her grandmother's, setting Hennessey up in the second guest room. "Nice digs, huh?" the blonde asked. She pulled back the down comforter and the crisp white sheets and slid into the bed. "My grandmother has exquisite taste in beds."

Hennessey laughed softly, "Thank God I'd never been to any of your family's houses before I asked you to come to South Carolina. I don't think I'd have had the nerve to have you sleep on the floor."

"I had the time of my life," the younger woman said. "I would have slept on a bed of nails to be with you."

"Those were the days, huh?"

Townsend rolled onto her stomach and draped her arms over her pillow. "If you can get right under my shoulder blades, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Not a problem," Hennessey assured her. She tugged the collar of her pajamas down a little and started to work on the tense muscles. It didn't take long to have Townsend purring softly while the strong, sure hands kneaded her tension away.

"Damn, that feels good. Jenna used to rub my back for me when it got tense. She's just a little bit better than you are."

"Better? No way!" Hennessey said, laughing.

"Only because I was naked, and she'd usually continued to relax me … thoroughly."

"Oh … my favorite kind of relaxation," Hennessey agreed. "Well, I can't give you the royal treatment, but I'll do my best."

Townsend thought about her friend's comment, then said, "You know, I don't think of you in that way any longer. I don't feel that sexual tension that I used to feel."

"I'm glad," Hennessey said. "It would make me crazy to think that you were troubled by that."

"I think I've finally begun to understand that we can be best friends without having sex be a part of the equation," Townsend said. "It's freeing."

"How are these muscles?" Hennessey asked. "Are they freeing up, too?"

"Yeah. They feel much better. Thanks, bud." She rolled over and looked at her friend, asking, "Any chance you'd share this huge bed with me? I'm feeling awfully lonely tonight."

Without hesitation Hennessey kicked off her slippers and slid into bed. "Anything for you," she said. She reached out and started to stroke Townsend's blonde head, sighing when she heard her friend begin to cry softly. She knew there was nothing she could do to take the hurt away, but she knew she'd do anything in her power to soothe Townsend's pain.

The next morning, Hennessey woke when the sun crept along the bed and landed on her face. Blinking in confusion, she looked around and saw Townsend lying on the other side of the bed. "Oh, right," she said aloud. "We're in Gloucester." She sighed contentedly and draped an arm over her eyes, allowing herself to sleep in for a very welcome change of pace.

On Sunday afternoon, the pair drove back to Cambridge, the relatively short trip taking quite a while in the heavy traffic. "I'd never ask you to beg, but if your grandmother's more generous after her trip to China, I wouldn't mind going back to Gloucester," Hennessey said.

"You liked it a lot, didn't you, stretch?"

"Oh, yeah," the brunette said, grinning widely. "I'm relaxed, I've been very well fed, and I loved having a whole weekend with you. I never grow tired of you, Townsend , never."

The blonde shot her friend a smile. "The same goes for me. You know, I like you even more now that we're not romantically involved. I can appreciate your marvelous qualities without all of the emotional highs and lows we used to go through."

"I know what you mean," Hennessey said, nodding. "Things are so much more volatile when you're with your lover."

"Yeah, but volatility leads to some good sex," Townsend said.

The momentary silence of the car was broken by both young women sighing heavily, then making eye contact and breaking into a prolonged bout of laughter.

"Guess where you're going the Saturday before Thanksgiving?" Hennessey asked her friend during one of their Friday night dates.

"I have no idea," Townsend replied, "but I hope it's someplace fun."

"Oh, it's fun, all right. Just make sure you mark your calendar, 'cause I've had to work some serious magic to get tickets for both of us."

"Tickets? You're taking me somewhere that requires tickets?"

"Don't act that surprised," Hennessey said, feigning hurt. "Am I that cheap?"

"Yeah, you really are," Townsend said, laughing at the astounded look on Hennessey's face.

On a bright, clear morning in late November, Hennessey showed up at Townsend's dorm, wearing a deep red sweatshirt with a large "H" on the front. She thrust a bag at her friend, narrowed her eyes at the green wool sweater that Townsend had on and said, "You've gotta change."

"Change? Why?"

"Because you'll stick out like a sore thumb, buddy. You've gotta wear crimson. Trust me."

Their destination quickly dawned on Townsend, and she opened the bag to find a Harvard Department of Athletics sweatshirt. "We're going to the Harvard/Yale game!" she said.

"This is your third year in Boston, and I've never taken you to a Harvard game," Hennessey said. "This is our last chance!"

"I don't have to show my SAT score to get in, do I?" Townsend asked.

"Everyone's a comic," Hennessey said. "Ya know, Princeton was recently rated the best school in the country. I wonder if Princetonians have to put up with this kinda harassment?"

"I certainly hope so," Townsend said. "If you're gonna go to a brainy school, you've gotta pay the price."

Their tickets were not the best, but the fact that they were in the last rows of Harvard Stadium didn't dim the young women's enthusiasm in the least. Hennessey had faithfully attended most of the Crimson's home football games, considering herself lucky to be enrolled during a particularly successful period. The stadium was full nearly a half-hour before game time, but this was always Hennessey's favorite time , when both teams’ boosters were full of confidence and mercilessly taunted their opponents.

"You know, I've lived in Boston my whole life, but I've never come to this game," Townsend said.

"It's not this game," Hennessey explained, "It's the game."

"Ooh … just because it's the smart kids, it has to have a special name," the blonde teased.

"No, baby, that's not why. It's the game because it was the first college football game ever played. It started in 1875! Hell, South Carolina was still trying to recover from the Civil War when this match began."

"Really? Are you serious?"

Hennessey looked confused. "Does this really surprise you? How have you avoided hearing about the game while living in Boston?"

The blonde shrugged, her smile beaming. "I guess I'm just oblivious. To add fuel to the fire, my father, grandfather and great-grandfather all went to Yale."

Hennessey slapped herself on the forehead, "What am I gonna do with you? Are you sure you don't wanna root for Yale?"

"Are you nuts? I'd be beaten to death cheering for Yale while I sit on the Harvard side. Hell, I'd root for Harvard if I went to Yale!"

"That's my girl," Hennessey smiled. "Now, memorize this cheer sheet. The music's easy, but some of the lyrics are a little cumbersome."

Townsend looked at the sheet, then slowly turned her head towards her friend. "Are you kidding? Some of these lyrics are in Latin!"

"You don't speak Latin?" Hennessey asked, an impish grin on her face. "No wonder you didn't do well on your SAT's."

Townsend elbowed her and said, "I did darned well on my SAT's , considering I was ripped!"

Hennessey's blue eyes widened. "You were drunk during the SAT's?"

"No! What am I, stupid? It's hard to take a test when you're drunk. I was high," Townsend said, chuckling heartily at the look on her friend's face.

A short while later, Hennessey draped her arm around her friend, guiding her through the words of the song the student section was singing.

We say Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!
There’s never an Eli can teach us to play!
Harvard! Harvard! Harvard!
See how the bleachers blue turn pale with fright;
Send a cheer across to bleach ‘em nice and white!
Oh, look at the way we smash and rib ‘em through
While the blue bull-dog howls "Boo-la, boo-la, boo!"
Let out your voices now so loud and hale,
‘Tis a fun’ral ode we sing to Eli Yale.
Oh, give us a yell, Hi! Hi! For Harvard
For the Crimson today!

"That was, by far, the stupidest song I've ever sung," Townsend said, leaning close to her friend so as not to be overheard.

"Ha! That was nothing!" Hennessey insisted. "Wait till we get to the ones that refer to the epic battles of the Peloponnesian Wars."

"You're kidding, right?" Townsend asked.

"You'll just have to wait and see, but I'd suggest you spend halftime at the library if you're not familiar with the battle at Syracuse."

With her green eyes twinkling impishly, Townsend said, "You can't fool me, Hennessey; I know Syracuse isn't in the Ivy League."

Not long after they returned to Boston after winter break Hennessey went to Townsend's apartment for dinner. "What in the heck are you doing?" Hennessey asked when she looked at the mess on the living room floor.

"Trying to send Jenna something that won't be stolen."

"Huh?"

Townsend sighed and rolled her eyes. "She hasn't gotten the last four packages I sent her, and she said that she thinks it's because the boxes looked like they might have something of value in them."

"Who's stealing her stuff? People from her mission?"

"No!" Townsend have her an irritated look. "She isn't with a bunch of thieves!"

Hennessey sat next to her friend on the floor, then gently patted her back. "I'm sorry, bud. I didn't mean to upset you."

Townsend shook her head and tried to smile. "S'okay. It's just so frustrating! Apparently, the customs people and other postal workers look through the packages and take things if they have much value. Now I'm just trying to send her a few of the things she wants while trying to disguise them."

"Kool-Aid?" Hennessey asked, shaking one of the packets.

"Yep. She has to boil her water and add bleach, so it tastes like hell. She says the trick is to add sugar-free Kool-Aid to disguise the taste."

"What disguises the taste of the sugar-free Kool-Aid?" Hennessey asked, earning a sharp look from her friend. "Sorry. I don't care for sugar-free drinks."

"You'd prefer bleach flavored?" Townsend asked.

"Mmm … good point. Why are you using tennis ball cans?"

"Jenna says that the best idea is to fill the tennis ball can with the Kool-Aid, then wrap the cans with a ton of reinforced strapping tape. The idea is to make it more trouble than it's worth to steal."

"Hmm … do you think a lot of people want to steal medicated powder?" Hennessey asked, reading the label on a container.

"If everyone has the kind of rash that Jenna has — people would walk through fire to get at this stuff."

Part 13

On a Friday night in May, Townsend poured a glass of juice for her friend and joined her on the couch. They clinked their glasses together, and the younger woman said, "Here’s to the last regular meeting of the lonely hearts club."

"Hey, it hasn't been that lonely, and you don't know what’s gonna happen. Jenna might surprise you."

"She’s surprised me quite enough for one year," Townsend said, making a face. "Traipsing off to the Philippines, coming home for Christmas and not inviting me to Utah, writing less and less frequently, I think her surprises have all combined to give me a message that I’m unwilling to hear."

"What do you think you’ll do?"

Townsend shrugged her shoulders and shook her head briefly. "I don’t know. I just don’t feel decisive about anything, pal. I’m feeling so down."

"I know," Hennessey said softly. "You’ve been a little down ever since the semester started, but it seems to be getting worse. I’ve been worried about you."

With a small smile, Townsend said, "I’ll be all right. I guess I’ve been having trouble adjusting to the thought that Jenna won’t be coming back, and you won’t be coming back, either. I don’t know how I’ll get through next year." She had been struggling with her emotions, and now she lost the battle and started to cry.

Hennessey took her in her arms and rocked her gently. "It’s going to be hard for me, too. As much as I love Kate, and as much as I miss her, being with you this year has made me very happy. I feel closer to you than ever, and I didn’t think that was possible."

"I didn’t either," Townsend whispered, "but I love you more than I ever have." Her shoulders began to shake, and she sobbed, "Oh, Hennessey, I love you so much. I can’t let you go! I can’t!"

"My heart breaks every time I think of leaving you. I can’t imagine what next year will be like. I’ll be with Kate, and that’ll be wonderful, but not being able to see you whenever I want is going to be horrible."

"I know, I know. It feels like a major part of me is being taken away, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to cope."

Hennessey pulled away and looked at her friend with a very somber expression. "You’ll go to more meetings, you’ll seek support from your sponsor. You’ll get through this, Townsend."

Suddenly, Townsend stood and gave her friend a look that mingled shock and rage. "This isn’t about drinking, goddamn it! Is that all that matters to you? Townsend can’t drink! Townsend can’t take drugs! I fucking know that, Hennessey. I’ve known that for four fucking years! I’ve had one fucking slip in four years! But you seem to think the only part of me that matters is my sobriety. That’s not all that matters, goddamn it! What about my heart? What about my soul!" She sank farther down into the couch, the fire slowly extinguishing itself. "Goddamn it, Hennessey. Goddamn you."

The older woman sat up and dropped her head into her hands. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you have needs, and most of them aren’t about drinking. It’s just… it’s easier for me to focus on your sobriety. I can… I can assuage my conscience by feeling that I help you stay clean."

"Your conscience?" Townsend blinked the tears from her eyes and gave her friend a confused look. "What’s your conscience got to do with anything?"

"Nothing. I… I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about." Hennessey got up and went into the bathroom, lingering so long that Townsend almost went to check on her. When the older woman returned, her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked very uncomfortable. "Uhm… I think I’d better go."

"What?!"

"You heard me," she said quietly. "We’re both having a tough time with this, and we might be better off each dealing with it on our own."

"Since when?" Townsend was on her feet, staring up into Hennessey’s eyes. "What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re… I don’t know..." She stared at her friend, finally coming up with the appropriate word. "You look like you’re lying!"

Eyes shifting, never landing on Townsend’s face, Hennessey mumbled, "No, I’m not. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week."

The blonde moved a step closer, and said just one word, enunciating it very clearly. "Bullshit."

"What?" Hennessey looked down into unblinking eyes, taken aback by the fire she saw in them.

"I said bullshit. You’re not tired, and it hasn’t been a particularly tough week. You’re hiding something, and I’m not gonna let you get away with it."

Townsend could almost see her friend’s hackles rise. She knew, better than most, that it was difficult to get under Hennessey’s skin. And she also knew that the tall brunette didn’t lose many tests of will.

"I’m entitled to my private thoughts and feelings," Hennessey said, a nearly visible curtain closing behind those usually open and trusting blue eyes.

"Of course you are," Townsend agreed. "And I’d never dream of invading your privacy , unless it was two days before you’re going to leave Boston, and your private thoughts obviously concern our relationship! Now, tell me what’s going on."

"No." Hennessey went to the coat closet, opened it and pulled her coat out, only to have it snatched from her grip and thrown across the room. "I’d rather leave with my coat, but I’ll leave without it," the older woman said, her voice flat and emotionless. She reached for the doorknob, but Townsend was right in front of it, blocking her attempt. "Townsend, don’t be like this. I’ll call you tomorrow."

"You’re not leaving," the determined blonde said.

"I don’t want to push you out of the way, but I will."

A pair of verdant green eyes stared up at her. "You’re not leaving."

Shaking her head, Hennessey tried to move her friend, exerting just enough pressure to accomplish her goal. To her surprise, Townsend wasn’t as light as she looked. Pushing harder resulted in little success, but Hennessey wasn’t about to give in. She put both hands on her friend’s waist and pushed with all her might, moving her obstinate friend a few inches. But Townsend wasn’t going to give up any more easily than the taller woman, and she placed her hands on Hennessey’s hips and gave an equally hard push.

To her amazement, Hennessey found herself stumbling backwards, the coat closet keeping her from losing her balance. She could feel her anger rise as Townsend gave her a superior smirk. Gathering all of her spirit and her strength, she bull-rushed her, trying to knock her off balance. But Townsend saw her plan, lowered her center of gravity and dropped her head, sticking it right into Hennessey’s belly.

The taller woman let out a gasp and felt herself being propelled back into the living room. Digging in, she put her hands onto Townsend’s shoulders and started to grapple with her.

They pushed and pulled and tugged on each other, but neither was making any headway. Their efforts were so intense that both women were out of breath in mere moments, managing to vocalize only grunts.

Townsend’s thumbs were hooked through the belt loops of the larger woman’s jeans, and Hennessey’s hands remained locked upon the blonde’s shoulders. Even though Hennessey was taller, Townsend’s lower center of gravity and her quickness allowed them to fight to a near draw.

Hennessey’s height did allow her a very slight advantage, though, and she would manage to move Townsend a few inches in any given direction before the smaller woman could dig in again. But she wasn’t able to plan her moves, and she inadvertently pushed Townsend into the sharp edge of the coffee table, causing the blonde to cry out in pain when the wood dug into her calf.

Instinctively, Hennessey pulled her friend towards her, just as Townsend was making another push. They flew back a few feet, landing relatively softly upon the couch before they slid onto the floor, arms and legs entangled.

Hennessey was on the bottom, Townsend looking down at her as they both struggled to catch their breath. The taller woman felt Townsend’s full weight resting on her body, felt the firm breasts pressed against her own, the slightly open lips so close, so accessible. Without censoring herself, Hennessey found her brain shutting down as her soul told the truth. "I want you," she said, her eyelid s fluttering closed.

Townsend stopped breathing. Her chest no longer moved against the taller woman’s rib cage, but her heartbeat increased dramatically, the pounding reverberating through Hennessey’s body. "What?" she finally managed.

"I know I shouldn’t tell you this, especially now. I know I shouldn't, but I can’t lie any longer. I want you, Townsend. I've wanted you all along."

"But… I … we both agreed that we didn't feel that way anymore!"

"No, we didn't," Hennessey said quietly. "You said you didn't feel that way, and I didn't disagree."

"Hennessey!"

"Ever since I returned from Paris, I’ve been fighting with myself. I didn’t know it was possible, but I swear that I love you and Kate equally. I’ve… I’ve focused on your sobriety because that’s the only topic I feel safe with."

Townsend’s eyes closed, and she took in a deep breath. She nuzzled her face against the soft, well-worn cotton that covered Hennessey’s chest and murmured, "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because it’s not fair, to either you or Kate. I can’t tell her how I feel about you, it’s just plain wrong to tell her something like that. And I was just as determined not to tell you, but you’re too damned strong to resist." She reached down and patted Townsend on the thigh, smiling as she asked, "When did you get so damned strong?"

"You know I’ve been running every morning and going to the gym. Do you think I do that just to see the Charles River?"

Hennessey’s expression turned serious and she asked, "Can you forgive me for telling you?"

"Are… is… that it?" Townsend asked, her eyes wide. "You’re just going to tell me that you love me as much as you love your girlfriend and then drop it?"

"Yes," Hennessey said. "I can’t do anything else."

"Yes, you can!" Townsend said, rolling quickly off the brunette. "We have to talk about this! You can't just throw this at me and leave it at that."

"There's no point in discussing it, Townsend. I'm committed to Kate, and that's the end of it."

"Jesus, Hennessey! I know you're in your first relationship, but it's not a good idea to love two women."

"I can't help it," the brunette said. "When I’m with her, I love her completely, and I’m very, very happy that we’re together. But when I’m with you, I feel the same way. I didn’t miss her nearly as much as I should have this year. I was perfectly content to be with you." She shook her head and said, "I didn't realize that until we went to Gloucester and you asked me if I missed her. Damn, I've been nearly obsessed with this ever since then."

"Then maybe your feelings for her have changed," the blonde said gently.

"No, they haven’t," Hennessey said. "When I was in Paris, I felt the same way about her that I now feel about you. I was totally happy with her, Townsend; to be honest, I didn’t spend much time thinking about you , in that way. I missed you, of course, but just like I missed my daddy and my grandparents. I honestly feel like I love you both equally, but Kate and I are committed to one another."

"How committed are you if you feel this way about me, Hennessey?"

The lanky brunette got up and walked into the kitchen where she got a glass of water. She came back into the living room and sat next to Townsend when her friend beckoned her to join her on the couch. "I'm pretty confused… I suppose that's obvious. But I do love Kate. I'm deeply committed to this relationship, Hennessey, but I can't stop myself from feeling desire for you. It's just not possible."

"What are we going to do?" Townsend asked.

Hennessey wrapped her in a hug and said, "We move on, sweetheart. Kate will be here tomorrow morning, just in time for graduation, and we’re leaving Sunday afternoon. I have to move forward, with her."

"Can you do that, Hennessey? Can you love her and put your feelings for me aside?"

Hennessey shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I can. I've done it all year."

"You poor thing," Townsend whispered. "This must have been so hard for you."

"It was, but I wouldn't change a thing. I've had one of the nicest years of my life, Townsend. I couldn't have asked for a better senior year. I can go back to the South now and feel like I got to enjoy my last year with you. I couldn't have done it if Kate had been here. It's… it's a form of closure for me, I think."

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'll admit that I'm pretty confused sometimes, but it's usually because I'm keeping something to myself."

"I'm glad you told me," Townsend said.

"I feel like it was a very selfish thing to tell you," Hennessey asked softly. "Should I have kept it to myself?"

"No, no, you did the right thing," Townsend said. "It’s nice to know that you love me , even if we can’t be together. It's always nice to be loved," she said, her smile growing brighter. "Especially by someone who's so loveable."

"I'll always love you, Townsend, even if I don't always desire you."

"I feel the same, and I hope you know it," Townsend said.

Hennessey ruffled her hair and said, "Now, you get to bed so you look pretty in the thousands of pictures my grandma will take tomorrow."

"Magna cum laude from Harvard is nothing to sneeze at, hot stuff. And I bet I take more pictures than your grandma does. I’m very proud of you, Hennessey. Very, very proud."

Hennessey nodded, looking a little embarrassed, then started for the door. She picked her jacket up off the floor and paused. Looking into Townsend’s eyes, she asked, "Can I kiss you goodbye? We won’t have any time alone… tomorrow."

Townsend chose to ignore the unspoken truth, that once Kate arrived, things would shift, and Hennessey’s heart would once again belong exclusively to her lover. "Yes, of course you can kiss me," she said. Expecting their usual brief brush of lips, Townsend was shocked to the core to have Hennessey take her in her arms and kiss her fervidly, holding on so tightly that she could hardly take in a breath. The kiss went on and on, their tongues touching tentatively, then sliding against one another as Townsend unconsciously let out a low growl. Hennessey remained latched to her friend’s lips, and they both stumbled slightly, crashing against the door with a thud.

Hennessey’s large hands slid through Townsend’s hair, holding her head still while she kissed her with an intensity that the smaller woman had never felt from her friend. This was the true, unbridled essence of Hennessey: mature, decisive, full of passion and need and power, and Townsend had never, until that very moment, known exactly what she had lost.

Durham was in the throes of a late summer heat wave, and most of the students scurrying around campus took advantage of the opportunity to show off their summer tans.

One student, a long-legged brunette, walked out of her final class of the week and immediately pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then clipped the thick strands to the back of her head with a tortoiseshell clip. She struggled to heft her book bag over her shoulder, then began to walk. She hadn't gotten five yards when a voice called out to her, "Hey, stretch."

Hennessey's eyes popped wide open, and she spun around, trying to find the speaker. Finally, her eyes lit upon Townsend, and her incredulity quickly gave way to a bright, shining smile. "What in the world…?"

Townsend sprawled rather lazily against the bench she was sitting on, cocking her head at her friend. "Just came to see how my best friend was doing."

Shaking her head, Hennessey sat next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders, saying, "We have phones down here, buddy, and you have my new number."

The smaller woman snuggled into Hennessey's loose embrace. "God, it's good to see you," she said. "I know that I could have, and probably should have, called, but I wanted to see you, Hennessey, not just talk with you. I've been worried about you."

Hennessey looked at her friend carefully and said, "We've been exchanging e-mails all summer, and I never got that impression. What are you worried about?"

Townsend gave her a lopsided grin and said, "Well, now that I'm here, it sounds kinda stupid." Her smile grew wider and she said, "Actually, it sounds like I'm really full of myself."

"What in the devil are you talking about?"

"Look, I've been anxious ever since your graduation. This is the first time in our relationship that something big has come up, and we haven’t been able to talk about it face to face." Hennessey didn’t reply. She tilted her head and stared more intently at her friend.

"I’ve been worried that you're not over me," Townsend said. She rolled her eyes and added, "Not that I have a cure for you if you're not." Her brow knit and she said, "I guess the truth is that I start school next week, and I can't bear to think of being in Boston without you or Jenna. I miss you." She looked up at Hennessey with her eyes misting over, and the larger woman gave her a warm hug.

"I miss you, too," she said. She placed a soft kiss on her friend's cheek and said, "I'm a little disoriented myself. It seems funny to be back here in the South. People talk so slow," she added, chuckling softly. "I'd finally gotten used to the Boston accent, and now I have to get used to this North Carolina twang."

Townsend slapped at Hennessey's bare legs. "Stop teasing. I'm being serious."

Hennessey met her gaze and nodded. Her voice was soft when she said, "I know you are. I guess this isn't the time to avoid the topic, is it?"

"No." Townsend squeezed the tanned thigh and said, "I want to make sure you're okay. I want to make sure that you're happy."

Hennessey looked at her for a few moments, then asked, "What will you do if I'm not?"

The pair stared at each other for a while longer, then Townsend scratched her head, looking a little embarrassed. "I hadn't gotten that far. I guess I should've had a better plan, huh?"

With a warm smile, Hennessey gave Townsend another hug, whispering into her ear, "I'm glad you're here. You don't need a master plan to visit me. I think it's wonderful that you cared enough to come."

"I do," Townsend said. "I care for you so much, stretch. It'll kill me if you're unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," Hennessey insisted, then rephrased. "I'm happy. I really am."

"I just … I just can't stop thinking about what happened between us the night before you graduated," Townsend said. "It goes through my mind nearly every day."

Hennessey gave her friend another long look. She pursed her lips and asked, "Have you changed you mind? Do you want to try again?"

"No." Townsend looked down at the ground. "I still love Jenna, stretch. I don't know what it is about that woman, but she brings out something in me that I don't wanna lose."

"Good," Hennessey said with enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear that."

"You are?"

"Yes, of course I am. When I made a fool out of myself this past spring, I thought I made it clear that I was happy with Kate. I don't want you to be pining away for me. I want you to do your best to get Jenna back when she comes back home."

"You really do?"

"Yes. Yes," she insisted when Townsend continued to look unconvinced. "This is what makes sense for each of us, baby. I told you that I was committed to Kate, and I meant it. I don't want you to think that this is some commitment that I wish I could get out of, either. It's not. I swear it's not."

"Promise?" Townsend asked, leaning her head on Hennessey's chest.

"I promise," the larger woman said. "I love you both, but I'm happy that I'm with Kate. She understands me, she comforts me, she treats me so well. She's very, very loving, Townsend, and I just hope that Jenna comes to her senses and realizes how much she loves you, too."

"I don't think that's gonna happen," Townsend said, "but that's not going to stop me from wanting her."

"You're not the type to give up easily," Hennessey said, looking at her friend with obvious admiration.

"No, I suppose I'm not. Even when I should."

"Hey, don't talk like that. You don't know what's gonna happen."

"No, I don't," Townsend admitted. "I guess what I said before is really the truth. I'm just freaked about going back to school."

"Understandable," Hennessey said. "We were a pretty tight pair last year."

"Yeah," Townsend said, her voice sounding wistful and sad. "It's not gonna be the same without you."

"I know. I know." Hennessey put her arm around her again and hugged her tight. "It feels odd to be here, too. Every Friday night this summer, I'd feel like I should be going to your apartment."

Townsend gave her a sad smile and said, "Friday's are gonna be hard."

"Well, today's Friday, and I think we should make use of it. I'll take you to dinner at the nicest place I can afford. Boy, Kate's gonna be surprised!"

"Will she be home?"

"No, not until late." She looked at Townsend and asked, "You're staying with us, aren't you? We don’t have a spare bedroom but,”

"I wish I could, but I only have time for dinner. My mom had to give a lecture at UNC, and we're flying back tonight. I have to be back in Chapel Hill by 11:00."

"What airline flies to Boston after 11:00 p.m.?" Hennessey asked.

"We came on a private jet, honey. Mother doesn't like to wait in lines."

"Nobody does," Hennessey said, laughing softly. "Most people just get over it."

"My mom isn't most people," Townsend said. "And neither am I. I'm taking you to dinner, stretch. And I don't want to hear an argument."

"I'm a very easygoing person," Hennessey said, smiling brightly. "Especially when one of my favorite people wants to buy me dinner."

"You'll always be one of my favorite people too, Hennessey. Always."

Part 14

Nine months later…

Townsend looked up into the brilliant sun and tossed her mortarboard as high as she could, laughing gleefully when hundreds of similarly propelled hats came falling down upon the graduates’ heads. She was still trying to catch her breath when her parents broke through the crowd to wrap her in a congratulatory embrace. "We’re so proud of you, sweetheart," her father said into her ear.

"Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of myself."

"You’ve accomplished so much, honey," her mother added. "When you were in high school, I would have been the first to assume you'd never graduate from college. I’m so happy to have been proven wrong."

"Townsend’s very good at exceeding expectations," a deep, melodic voice said from over the graduate’s shoulder.

Whirling around, the smaller woman threw her arms around Hennessey, hugging her tightly. "I had no idea you would come!"

"I’ll never miss an important day in your life," Hennessey whispered. "I promise that."

"Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?"

"Well, I wasn’t sure how I’d get here, or when I’d get here , so I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep. My term isn’t over, and I had so much work piled up it was nip and tuck, but I lucked out and got an excellent last minute fare from one of those wholesale re-sellers."

"Oh, Hennessey, it means so much to me that you’re here."

"It means a lot to me, too." She released the blonde and stepped back a bit. "Hi, Miranda, Tucker."

"Great to see you again, Hennessey," Tucker said. "It’s been quite a while."

"How are things at… Duke?" Miranda asked, not entirely sure that she had the correct school name.

"Things are great," Hennessey said, smiling brightly. "I’ve still got a week left in my term, but I couldn’t miss this big event."

"Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you," Miranda said. "How long will you be staying?"

"I have a nine o’clock flight tomorrow evening."

"I hope you’re planning on staying with us," Miranda said. "We’d love to have you."

Townsend turned and gazed at her friend. "Will you stay, Hennessey? We really would love for you to."

The brunette shrugged her shoulders and said, "To be honest, I didn't make any plans. I was so fixated on getting here on time, I didn't think to make a hotel reservation."

"Then it's settled," Miranda said. "I have so many questions about the writing program at Duke that I can't wait to get you alone."

"Huh-uh, Mom. If I only get her for a day, I’m keeping her all to myself. You can call her to ask her questions." Townsend said this with an impish smile, but everyone knew that she was completely serious.

Much to Townsend’s regret, her mother had planned a small celebration back at the house, and about two dozen relatives and friends of the family were waiting for them when they pulled into the drive. Internally, Townsend rolled her eyes, but when her mother turned and asked, "You don’t mind terribly, do you, dear? I wouldn’t have planned anything if I’d known Hennessey was going to be here." She gave her a warm smile and said, "Of course I don’t mind. Who would mind having someone go to the trouble of throwing her a party?"

Hours later, the last guest had been shown out, and Townsend tugged on her friend’s hand, leading her upstairs. "Let’s go to my room and talk all night," she said, making Hennessey smile.

"If my memory serves me well, you’ve said that many times , and yet, you’re always the first to fall asleep."

"I haven’t had anyone to practice with," the blonde said. "How can I get better if I don’t work at it?"

"Good point. We’ll give it another try tonight." Hennessey tossed her arm around Townsend’s shoulders and followed her into the spacious, beautifully decorated room. "Boy, I remember the first time we came here for the weekend. I’d never been any place this nice in my whole life. I kept thinking back to what you must have thought when you visited my house."

Townsend gave her friend a generous hug. "I thought that I was in love with you, and that any place you were was just perfect."

With a nervous chuckle, Hennessey pulled back and asked, "Mind if I put my jammies on? I’m not used to being dressed up all day."

"Sure. Let me show you to your room. Do you prefer the blue or the green décor?"

"Blue. Definitely blue," Hennessey replied. "I like the view from that room."

"So do I. I would have chosen that one, but the morning light hits it far earlier than I used to choose to rise." She shrugged and said, "Maybe I should switch if I’m going to be here for a while."

Hennessey opened her bag and took out a faded Harvard T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting, gray, athletic shorts. "Be right back," she said, ducking into the bath. Moments later, she reappeared, and Townsend handed her a hanger for her dress.

"You looked lovely today," the younger woman said. "I’ve only seen you in a dress once or twice, but you look wonderful in them."

"I don’t mind getting dressed up, but I don’t do it for pleasure , only when the occasion calls for it."

"Window seat?" Townsend asked, already knowing the answer.

"Absolutely." The dark-haired woman climbed onto the wide seat, smiling when her friend handed her a few pillows.

"I know you like to be comfortable," she said. "Wait right here. I’ll go put my pajamas on, too."

Townsend was only gone a few minutes, and when she sat down, Hennessey reached over and wiped a speck of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth. "Missed some," she said.

"I was in a hurry. I’ve only got you for a few hours, and I don’t want to waste a minute."

"I wish I could stay longer, but I just can’t swing it."

"I understand. School has to come first. And Kate, of course. How did she feel about your coming?"

A tiny frown settled on Hennessey’s face. "She wasn’t overjoyed about it, to be honest. She had a weekend off, the first one in months, and she naturally wanted us to spend it together. I’m not sure if she would have minded any other weekend, but,”

"Oh, Hennessey, I don’t want to cause trouble in your relationship."

"No trouble, I promise," the larger woman said. "The timing just wasn’t great. Kate won’t be angry by the time I get home; she was just disappointed."

"Well, I can’t say I blame her. Her schedule sounds horrible, and yours isn’t much better."

"Hers is much worse. I don’t think people realize how hard medical school students work. It’s no picnic."

"How much time do you spend together?" Townsend asked.

"That depends on how you categorize it. We’re in the same room quite often, but we’re usually both studying or reading. We usually have one afternoon a week where neither of us absolutely has to be doing something else."

"One afternoon? You can’t be serious!"

"Oh, I am serious. She spends more time at the hospital than she does in class now. She only gets one day off a week, and sometimes that’s when I have a deadline. It’s been tough, very tough, to make time for each other."

"Hasn’t that hurt your… relationship?" Townsend asked, trying not to pry.

"Yeah, of course it’s harder this way. But that’s what you get when you partner with a med student. Believe me, Townsend, it will only get worse. We’ll be lucky to see each other at all when she’s a resident."

"Is it worth it?" Townsend asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah," Hennessey said immediately. "I love her, Townsend. I love her, and I’m supportive of her, just like she is of me. The next eight to ten years are going to be hard, but we’ve learned that we both have to do what we want, what makes each of us happy. I’m sure she’d like it if I were there to tend to her every need when she isn’t busy, but my work is as important to me as hers is." Hennessey adjusted herself, plumping her pillows up to better support her back. "Here’s how I think of it. Some couples can be each other’s entrees. Their lives revolve around each other. It’s not like that for me and Kate, and it probably never will be. We’re both independent women who are very motivated and driven. We’re more like the condiments in each other’s lives. We provide spice and flavor, not the whole meal."

"And you like being a condiment?" Townsend asked, looking suspicious.

"Hey, I won’t lie to you. There are times that I want to be the entrée. I had a bad cold earlier this year, and Kate was on a forty-eight hour shift at the hospital. I wanted her to sit by my bed and read to me and then make me soup and tea. But I had to take care of myself. I didn’t like it one little bit, but that’s the way it is."

"But isn’t that what being in a relationship is all about? Being there for each other?"

"Yeah, sure it is. But that’s not all it is. It’s also about giving each other the space that you need to fulfill your dreams. That’s where we are now." She gave her friend a sad look and said, "They say that you can’t have everything in life, and I’ve come to realize how true that old axiom is."

"Is it enough for you, Hennessey? Are you happy?"

"I am," the larger woman said without a bit of hesitation. "I wish I had more of her, but the little bit I get is well worth the time we have to be apart. She’s an extraordinary woman, Townsend, and I love her and respect her and admire her. Those are all very significant parts of a relationship."

"Do you still… love me?"

Hennessey’s face softened into a warm, affection-filled smile. "Of course I do. I always will. I… think I've finally gotten to the point where I'm able to love you platonically," she added. "It took me a long while, but I think I'm there."

"I hope so," the blonde said. "I don't ever want to come between you and Kate."

"You won't," Hennessey assured her. "Kate and I are permanently partnered. We're both committed to being together for the rest of our lives, which might not be too long if she keeps working herself to death!"

They continued to talk until their throats grew dry. Together they snuck downstairs to get something to drink, but wound up with ice cream instead. "I don't know why, but ice cream tastes better out of the carton," Hennessey decided, tapping her spoon against the rim of the container. "It's more indulgent somehow."

"What do you two do for meals? Do you cook for each other?"

"No, not very often. I love to cook, but I don't take the time to do it for myself. Every once in a while, I'll make a nice meal if we're both free on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon, but I could count how often I've done that on one hand."

"And you're okay with that?" Townsend asked.

"No, I don't like it," Hennessey said. "But there are sacrifices we have to make for each of us to get our degrees. That's just one of them." She gave Townsend a lopsided grin and said, "Don't even ask me about my sex life."

Wincing, Townsend asked, "That bad?"

"Well, it's not that we never make love, it's just that Kate's usually in the mood when she's been on duty for thirty-six hours. It's one of the ways she likes to relax."

"So?"

"So… that's usually at 2:00 or 3:00 a.m.," Hennessey said, laughing. "We have sex, I'm just half-asleep."

Townsend patted her friend's hand and said, "Don't complain. I'd rather have it at 2:00 a.m. than not have it at all."

Nodding, Hennessey said, "I shouldn't have said that, bud. I know it's been hard for you."

"Yeah, it has been, but I think I'm finally ready to let go and start dating. I'm going to Europe with my mom for a while, and when I get back, I'm going to dedicate myself to finding someone who is completely indifferent to her creator of choice."

"Aw, there are some religious people who don't have to leave the country for two years," Hennessey said, smiling.

"I'm not taking any chances," Townsend insisted. "No devout Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Taoists, Hindus, pagans, witches or devil worshipers." She laughed at herself, saying, "If I take out a personal ad, it's gonna be a quarter page long."

"You don't need to take out an ad," Hennessey said. "I know twenty women at Duke who'd love to go out with you."

"Hey, I've got money," Townsend reminded her. "I'll fly 'em in!"

"So, what are you planning on doing in Europe?" Hennessey asked when they went back upstairs.

Townsend looked away, a glimmer of indecision on her face. "Uhm …"

Hennessey reached out and touched her arm. "I don't mean to pry, baby. You don't have to tell me."

Giving her friend a thoughtful look, Townsend said, "I don't think she'd mind if I told you." She smiled and said, "My mom is checking into a chemical dependency unit in Switzerland. She told me that she's so impressed with my recovery that she can't ignore how her addiction to pain-killers is dulling all of her senses." Her smile grew wider and she said, "I've never been a positive influence on anyone, Hennessey. It makes me feel great."

Hennessey reached out and drew her into a warm hug. When she pulled back she said, "You've influenced a lot of people. I've been to meetings with you where I've heard you tell your story. I know that many, many people have been encouraged and strengthened by you. Plus, you've been a positive influence on me for years. Just because I didn't have a problem with alcohol, didn't mean I wasn't screwed up. You've helped me make a lot of changes, buddy."

"Not as many as you've helped me make," Townsend said.

Hennessey extended her hand and said, "Let's call it a draw and agree that we're both saintly, okay?"

Townsend gave her a playful whap with one of her pillows. "Don't say the ‘s’ word in my presence! Too religious!"

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: July 20, 1999

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi,

Well, I'm home, and I wanted to thank you again for writing to me so often when I was in Europe. I love Switzerland, but it was pretty darned lonely to be there for over two months. The only time I saw my mother was on Sundays, when family members are allowed to come for group meetings, but I needed to be there for her. I've been in rehab before, and I know what it's like to be ignored on visiting days. Luckily, my father came to visit twice, and my mother's sister, Julia, came for a week. Julia and my mom have been on the outs for years, but they've managed to get closer since my mom isn't using. It seems that Julia had been on her for years to admit that she had a problem, and my mom didn't want to hear it. It's nice to have my aunt back in my life; she's a nice person, even though she's a little new age for my tastes. By the way, shouldn't new age be old age by now? <bg>

Mom is doing well, and she's determined to go to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting every day for at least ninety days. I plan on going with her for a while. Luckily, I can relate to almost any kind of compulsive behavior, so I should get something out of the meetings as well <s>.

I have what I think is good news to relate <s>. Apparently, Jenna has been trying to contact me for over a month. She didn’t leave a message when she called, but the maid mentioned that a young woman called every week while I was gone. Knowing that Jenna would be the type to not leave a message, I called her, and she admitted she was my phantom caller <s>.

She’s back from the Philippines and ready to return to college. The great thing is that BYU didn’t admit her, so she’s going to go to Utah State in Logan. You might wonder how it’s good news to be dinged by a school. Well, Jenna tells me that she was rejected mostly because of her essays. The little devil intentionally screwed them up so she wouldn’t have to go to school with the Mormon majority <bg>. She said all sorts of blasphemous things on her essays — like how she was questioning her Mormon faith, and that being in the Philippines had shown her that living in a Mormon community wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Luckily, she tried hard on her applications to the University of Utah and Utah State. She’s decided on State because they have better skiing <s>, and it’s two and a half hours from her parents. She claims that she wants to be as far away as she can so that she can live more openly.

Here’s the good news: she wants me to come to Utah to live with her! I was stunned as you might imagine! I thought she was going to give me the heave-ho as soon as she got back, but she swears that she was unable to be any more open in her letters because her roommate questioned her constantly about why she didn't have a boyfriend back home. Apparently, you're viewed with suspicion if you don't have a boyfriend, but if you do have a boyfriend, you're not supposed to be sexual with him. Not too much pressure on the wedding night, huh? <s>

Anyway, she claims that she loves me more than when she left, and that the last two years have only served to convince her that being in a lesbian relationship is right for her. I hope with all of my heart that that’s true, Hennessey, and I think the only way to find out is to go to Utah. I don’t have any firm plans of my own, as you know, but I want to take some more writing courses. I suppose I can do that in Logan as well as anywhere, right?

So, we’re going to meet up in August and rent an apartment. I’m pretty excited (Okay, I’m very, very excited!), and I hope you’re excited for me. As you know, I tried my best to move on last year, but I never met anyone who appealed to me as much as Jenna did. If we can work out some of our issues, I think we can make it. Wish me luck, buddy!

Love,

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: July 29, 1999

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi pal,

Well, this is a week of unexpected surprises! I just got back from a long weekend with my grandparents — and I came out to everyone! I stopped first at camp and had a long talk with MaryAnn — as a kind of warm up. Then, on to Beaufort. In order, I talked to: my father, then my grandfather and then my grandmother. Yes, I took the easy route, but you’ll be glad to know that none of them tried to strangle me <lol>.

Actually, Daddy and Granddaddy didn’t have much to say one way or the other, and since I guessed that would be the result, I chose them to be first. By the time I got to Gramma, I’d told three people and was beginning to feel like an old hand. She wasn’t happy about it, by any means, and she’s not ready to have Kate come visit again, but when I left, she told me that she loved me as much as ever. That’s all that matters to me.

I know it will take the three of them some time to get used to this, but at least I’ve taken the first step. I know I’m at least three years behind, but I wasn’t ready until now. I guess I should have gone to see my momma, but she’s recently moved — or been dispossessed — and no one knows exactly where she is. I’m sure I could have tracked her down if I’d tried hard enough, but I wasn’t in the mood for a guilt trip. I’m poorer than I’ve ever been, and I’ll be damned if I’d give Momma my last few dollars, so the visit would have been painful for both of us.

Anyway, I’m happy that I got it over with — now I’ll just have to spend a few years getting them used to it <s>.

Enough about me; let’s talk about you. I’m very, very happy to learn that you’re going to make another effort to be with Jenna. I care for her a lot, and you know how much I care for you. If you two can make each other happy, you’ll be making me happy, too.

I hate to think of you all the way over in Utah, but with my schedule I guess I couldn’t have come to Boston to visit you very often, anyway. Let me know your plans and how I can best stay in contact with you.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Townsend Bartley <demonrum@loganlink.net> Sent: August 29, 1999

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Greetings from Utah!

This isn’t the best place in the world to get a drink, but Logan is a very pretty spot!

We’ve been here a week and managed to find a nice apartment. You’ll be glad to know that it’s a two bedroom, and we’re making the second bedroom a guest room. It’s available any time for you, stretch.

After getting settled, and getting our utilities turned on (note new e-mail addy), we decided to investigate a little. Jenna’s never been here before, so it’s a new experience for both of us. She’s so darned happy to be back in the U.S. that she’s like a kid in a candy store <s>. I don’t think she realized how wonderful this country was until she left it. Life is like that sometimes, though. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I’m glad she has her country back — and I’m glad I have her back.

We started our exploration of the area with a long-ass hike up Naomi Peak. It’s a four-mile hike, rising to an elevation of ninety eight hundred feet. I was amazed at how easy it was for me. I guess all that running has paid off, huh? Jenna’s in great shape, too, although she’s lost a lot of weight. I liked her baby fat, but she’s just as pretty as ever. She’s a lot more muscular — but mostly in her legs. Walking her ass off all over the Philippines saw to that <s>.

Anyway, we walked up this craggy trail, and we were the only people there. I was amazed to see miles of wildflowers stretching across the meadows: lupine, columbine, mountain daisies and other stuff that I don’t know the names of <g>. It was warm out, and we had such a magnificent view that we sat right down in the middle of this wildflower-rich meadow and drank some of our water.

Sitting there on that hill, I looked at Jenna and was stunned by the love I felt for her at that moment. This wasn’t about lust, it wasn’t about sex, it wasn’t about attraction. It was love, Hennessey. I realized that I love her enough to do anything to stay with her. I wasn’t sure of her before, but she seems so much more mature, so centered now. She seems to know what she wants, and — much to my delight — she wants me.

We stayed in the meadow for a long time, kissing and holding each other. I couldn’t hold her tight enough, Hennessey. Damn, she means so much to me! Some other hikers came by, and I was astounded when Jenna didn’t freak out. We stayed right there, and she kissed me again — right in front of other people! Now, that’s progress!

On to academic matters, now. Jenna will be taking a full class load, and I’m taking two classes. One is at Utah State, and it’s an upper division creative writing course. The other is a little more touchy-feely <s>. It’s at a local place that offers writing workshops, and I’m taking a class in how to find my creative voice. It might be bullshit, but I’d really like some help in learning how to vent some of my feelings in a creative fashion. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I know your classes start soon, so I’ll send good study vibes your way. I hope you and Kate get more time together this year, but I know that’s unlikely. I suppose you have to make the most of every minute you have, stretch, and I know you’re up to the task.

Anyway, it looks like we’re both in good shape for a change, huh? You’re out and you’re proud <s>, and even Jenna’s out to strangers on a hilltop in Logan. Let’s hope the good times keep rollin’.

Love,

Townsend

p.s. You're the only person I'm giving this e-mail address to. I need to be able to talk freely with you, and I don't want to have to worry about Jenna reading my mail. She's not a snoop, but things happen.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: November 30, 1999

To: Townsend Bartley demonrum@loganlink.net

Hi there,

First, I want to apologize for being such a horrible correspondent. I don’t know where the time goes, but by the time I have a minute to myself, I fall asleep. You know how I need my eight hours, and there aren’t many nights that I get that. Having Kate working such ridiculous hours doesn’t help much, ‘cause I try to stay up to spend a little time with her if she’s supposed to be home before 1:00 or 2:00 a.m. Usually, of course, I’m sound asleep on the couch, and I don’t even know how I got into bed when I wake up the next morning <s>.

I do have some good news, though. After many, many, many hours of discussion, Kate has decided on her specialty. It's not her first choice, but she's decided to go into psychiatry. She’ll have a regular schedule and be able to be home for dinner every night. We’ll even be able to start a family — something we both want to do. She'd prefer to go into something a little wilder <s>, but she agrees that we need to have time together to make our relationship work. I am so thankful that she's willing to make a sacrifice like this for me — it's a very clear sign of how committed she is to our partnership.

The bad news is that until she finishes her residency it’s gonna be brutal. Sometimes it’s hard — very hard — to keep our eyes on the prize, but that’s our only option. There’s no way to do this in an easier way, and it means so much to her that I’d never dream of complaining. The poor thing is always tired and stressed out, and she’s working with a resident who seems to delight in humiliating her — so it’s been very rough for her, too. Every time I feel like I have too much to do, I look at her — sitting at her desk after twelve hours at the hospital — working to make sure she’s prepared for the next day. I know people think that doctors make too much money, but giving up eight years of your life should be worth it financially! Boy, don’t I already sound like a doctor’s wife? <s>

I love Kate, Townsend; you know I do. And one day we’ll be able to spend all day lazing around our big, expensive house <bg>. I can put up with an awful lot to make her happy, and I hope this turns out to be exactly what satisfies her. I know I’d resent her if she tried to interfere in my professional life, so I’ll never do that to her. We can only be happy together if we’re each happy individually.

I don’t know what your plans are for the holidays, but if you have some time, I’d love to have you come to Beaufort for a while. Kate is going to Europe with her parents for ten days, and they very generously offered to take me with them, but I need to spend some time with my grandparents. You’re probably going to be with Jenna, skiing all over Utah, but if by chance you have a few days — I’d love to have you. Jenna’s welcome too, of course, but I don’t know how she’d feel about spending her vacation with me. Please be sure to tell her that I really do like her and would love to see her again.

Let me know, buddy, and again, please forgive me for being so self-absorbed.

Love always,

Hennessey

"Damn, Hennessey, I forgot how much I love it down here." Townsend tightened her lightweight coat around herself and reached for her friend’s arm, wrapping her hand around it. "I also forgot how chilly it can be at this time of year."

"It’s been five years since you were here for Christmas," Hennessey reminded her. "Although I do not know where the time went. It seems like it was just a short while ago."

The younger woman nodded reflectively. "In a way it does, but it seems like a lifetime as well. We’ve both been through a lot since then, haven’t we?"

"Yeah, yeah, we have." Hennessey grasped her friend’s hand and held it gently. "One thing hasn’t changed, though, and that’s how totally comfortable I feel with you. Every time we get together, it seems like it’s been just a few days since we’ve seen each other."

"That's the nicest thing," Townsend agreed, smiling warmly. "So, since you’ve been such a poor correspondent, I want you to fill me in on everything that’s happened since the last time we were together."

"Damn, that’s been since summer. My memory isn’t that good!"

"Hey, we’re going for a long walk on the beach. We’ve got nothing else to do, so spill it, Boudreaux. I know you’ve got a mind like a steel trap."

"Yeah, I guess I do." Hennessey took a deep breath, which Townsend could hear even over the gentle roar of the sea. "I didn’t tell you the whole truth about why I’m here."

"Huh? Aren’t the people who fed us breakfast really your grandparents? Wasn’t that good-looking guy your daddy?"

Laughing softly, Hennessey nodded. "Yeah, they’re the same old bunch, but what I didn’t tell you was that Gramma didn’t want Kate to come home with me. Kate’s parent’s came up with the European trip just to provide us with an alternative."

"Ouch!" Townsend didn’t say another word; she merely gripped her friend’s hand a little harder.

"Yeah. Things were pretty tense around the apartment for much of this month. You know," she said thoughtfully, "I try never to talk about the problems we have , I don’t think it's fair to Kate or to you. But I’d like to talk about this one just to get some feedback."

"Sure, babe. You know I’ll help if I can."

Hennessey reached into her coat pocket and extracted a covered elastic band, spending a few moments pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "I’ll never get a comb through this mop," she said, shaking her head. "Okay, here’s my position. See if it makes sense."

"I’m all ears."

"My grandma is more important to me than I’ll ever be able to express. But she’s an older, hard-headed woman, and frankly, she’s more than a little prejudiced. Luckily, she’s not antagonistic to racial minorities, but she’s intolerant of religious, cultural and sexual deviations from what she considers the norm. I’m not going to be able to change her mind about lesbianism in the near future. In fact, I doubt that I’ll ever be able to do that. But that will not stop me from loving her and spending time with her. I owe her my life, Townsend, and that’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay."

"I know that, sweetheart," Townsend said. "I understand your perspective, but I’d like to hear Kate’s, too."

"All right. Kate has never had to struggle with being out , until now," Hennessey said. "She’s not taking it very well, and I think this thing with Gramma is making it worse for her."

"What is she struggling with?" Townsend asked.

"Her advisors have made it clear to her that being out at the hospital will hurt her career," Hennessey said, wincing as the words left her mouth. "She’s not at all happy with that assessment, and it’s been wearing on her. Most of her classmates know, but the attending physicians don’t, and she’s afraid to let the resident she’s assigned to find out. She’s getting a taste of what it’s like to be in the closet , and she hates it more than you’d believe."

"Oh, God," Townsend sighed. "I thought Duke was pretty progressive."

"It is," Hennessey said. "I’m completely out, and no one blinks an eye. But it’s a different culture in medicine. There are some very conservative guys at the medical school, and it’s vital that Kate impress them. I think she feels like she’s compromising her principles to play the game , and that’s why she’s so intolerant of my grandma. It’s bad enough when you have to play this game professionally , she thinks our families should support us totally."

"And that’s not gonna happen."

"Not for a good, long while," Hennessey agreed.

"So, what does Kate want you to do?" the blonde asked.

"She wants me to tell my grandma that we're a pair. We come home together, or we don't come home at all."

Townsend stopped dead in her tracks. "Hennessey! You could never stop seeing your grandparents!"

A slow, crooked smile settled on the older woman’s mouth. "I know I couldn’t. Thanks for knowing that about me."

Grabbing a handful of her friend’s jacket, Townsend asked, "Are you saying Kate doesn’t know that about you? How could she not?"

With a slight furrowing of her brow, Hennessey shook her head. "She knows, but it’s more of a conceptual knowledge. She doesn’t understand it on an emotional level. She truly believes that when someone loves you, that person loves you exactly as you are. And if you’re not loved that way, it’s not genuine love."

"Oh, Hennessey, anyone can see how much your grandma loves you. Anyone!"

Shaking her head a little more forcefully, Hennessey said, "Not Kate. She’s always had such support , such complete support , that she doesn’t understand that most people can only offer conditional love. She truly doesn’t understand it, Townsend, and it’s caused a lot of problems for us. She’s hurt that I chose to be with my family instead of her, and I’m hurt that she can’t see my perspective."

"Damn, I can see why this has been hard for you," the blonde murmured. "It sucks."

"Yeah, it does," Hennessey agreed. "But there’s one good thing about it. Kate loves me unconditionally, and we’re both completely confident that we’ll get through this. It’s a problem, but it’s not fatal."

"God, you’re lucky to have that confidence," Townsend said, wrapping her arm around her friend’s waist and hugging her tight.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hennessey asked as they drove down a narrow, curving lane in a neighboring country.

"No, I’m not, but if you want to see your momma, I’d like you to do it while I’m here. I know how hard it is for you, baby, and I want you to be able to talk to me about it afterwards."

"Thanks." Hennessey gave her friend’s knee an affectionate squeeze. "That means a lot to me."

They drove on in silence, Hennessey obviously tense and a little irritable. She quietly cursed the numerous potholes in the poorly maintained street, and Townsend knew that cursing didn’t come naturally to her old friend.

At the end of the street, Hennessey parked the car and peered around, checking addresses. Letting out a sigh, she opened the door and said, "Let’s go."

"Are you sure this is right? The note said 715 and that house is 713 and the one next to it is 717."

"This is right," Hennessey said, a grim tone in her voice. She walked up the long driveway that lay on the south side of 717, occasionally kicking one of the surprisingly large rocks that littered the way.

Townsend looked at the piece of broken picket fence that someone had hung by chicken wire from one of the eaves of the garage, marked with a free-hand painted legend , 715. She shuddered, the feeling rattling deep in her soul, and jogged a few steps to gently hold Hennessey’s hand.

A seriously out-of-plumb door on the side of the garage beckoned them, and Hennessey knocked soundly. In moments, her mother came to the door, looking very happy to see her daughter. "Hi, Momma," the tall woman said, giving her mother a warm smile. "You remember my friend, Townsend. She came with me when I visited you a few years ago when you lived over on Riggs Road."

"Oh, sure," the woman said, with no recognition whatsoever dawning in her muddy brown eyes. "How are ya, honey?"

"I’m well," Townsend said, smiling on cue. "How have you been, Maribelle?"

"Just fine, fine and dandy." She gave Townsend a wide smile, and with regret the younger woman noticed that a few more teeth had gone missing since their last encounter. "Why don’t you two sit down …" Maribelle looked around the garage, noticing, as if for the first time, that there was only one chair resting on the oil-stained concrete floor. The décor was rounded out by a double bed mattress and box spring , also on the floor , a small, painted dresser, and the type of space heater that the fire department warns against every Christmas.

"No, we’re fine," Hennessey said. "It was quite a drive to get out here. Why'd you leave Beaufort?"

"Oh, you know how expensive everything is over there. If you don't play golf, there isn't a decent place to live."

Hennessey nodded politely knowing that the only time her mother would live near a tended lawn was when she was laid to rest. "So, how do you get around?"

Maribelle shrugged her shoulders and said, "Lemont has a car, so it’s no trouble."

"Lemont?" Hennessey asked.

"Oh!" For some reason, Maribelle looked nervous. "He’s … he’s the fella who owns the house. Real nice old man. You’d like him."

"I’m sure I would," Hennessey said, rocking on her heels with her hands in her pockets. "Uhm … what exactly did you want to see me for, momma?"

"Oh, just to catch up. It seems like we never see each other any more."

"Well, it has been a while," Hennessey agreed. "But I don't get home very often."

"Right." Maribelle nodded, pausing just an instant. "Now, you’re in school for how much longer, baby?"

"A year and a half , then I have to write my dissertation. But I don’t need to be in Durham to do that."

"Right … Durham. I’ve heard it’s nice there," she said with a wistful sigh as if she were speaking of Florence or Paris.

"It is. I miss home, though," Hennessey said. "They’re both Carolinas, but the southern one will always be where my heart lies."

"That’s cute," Maribelle said, letting out a little giggle. "They are both Carolinas. I never thought of that." At that moment, Townsend became dead certain that Hennessey’s intelligence did not come from her mother’s side of the family. "So, what do you do for fun, honey?"

Hennessey gave her a puzzled look, having not had her mother ask her a personal question in years. "Uhm … I study a lot, I teach a couple of undergraduate courses , "

"Don’t you have a boyfriend yet?" Maribelle gave Townsend a wry look and said, "I don’t know what she’s waiting for. I had an eight-year-old by the time I was her age."

"No, Momma, I don’t." She hesitated for a moment, and Townsend could just see her mind working. Obviously deciding that she had nothing to hide, Hennessey said, "I won’t ever have a boyfriend, Momma. I’m a lesbian. I have a lover named Kate who’s in medical school at Duke. She’s part of the reason I decided to go to school there."

The woman’s eyes grew wide, and she looked like she might faint. "A doctor? You shacked up with a doctor?"

Blinking slowly, Hennessey said, "She’s in medical school. She won’t be a doctor for two more years, and then she’ll be in training for another four years or so."

Shaking her head slowly, Maribelle breathily said, "A doctor."

"Yep. A big, ol’ lesbian doctor. Just rollin’ in greenbacks." Hennessey was clearly more than a little annoyed, and Townsend was afraid she was going to cause a scene.

"You’ve always had the breaks, Hennessey," the older woman said, looking jealous and a little resentful.

"Yeah, my life has been sweet." Maribelle didn’t notice the derisive tone, and Townsend wasn’t going to be the one to point it out, so a strained, lengthy silence reigned in the musty room.

Maribelle’s head cocked as if she’d heard a sound, and she said, "Wait right here, honey. I’ll be back in a second." She scampered across the floor before either woman could say a word, and in a few seconds she was speaking with someone in the driveway.

"Havin’ fun?" Hennessey asked, giving her friend a grim smile.

"No. I don’t come to see her, and I don’t expect to have fun. I’m here for you."

Now a genuine smile settled on the handsome face. "I have to remind myself that no one makes me come here, and if I’m gonna do it, it has to come from a loving place , or it’s a waste of time. Thanks for reminding me of that, pal."

"Anytime. That's my job."

The door opened, and a man with a forty-six inch waist and thirty-eight inch pants entered. He was wearing a tight, whitish, short-sleeved polyester dress shirt and a narrow tie. "Pensoneau," he said, extending his hand. "Are you Hennessey Boudreaux?"

"Yes." She gazed at him quizzically and started to ask who he was, but he got another question out before she did.

"Is Maribelle Pikes your mother?"

"Yeah …"

"Are you receiving funds from a relative other than your mother?"

"What? No, I’m not, but why do you care?"

"Look, kid, my job’s hard enough. Don’t be diddlin’ me. Are you a full time student?"

"Yes, but , "

His voice grew louder, and he persisted, "How many years of school do you have to complete?"

"Two, but , "

"That’s all I need. Thanks." He turned and left the room, and as Hennessey started to go after him, Townsend grabbed the pocket of her jeans.

"Is it really worth it?" she asked quietly, holding on tight.

She felt the tension in the material ease, and Hennessey shook her head. "No, I suppose not." They heard the man start to walk back down the drive, and Hennessey went out into the warm sun to stand next to her mother. She watched the man get into his vehicle, clearly marked "State of South Carolina." With a lightning quick move, Hennessey snatched an envelope from her mother’s hand and quickly turned her back when the older woman tried to snatch it right back. Moving and dodging the flailing hands, Hennessey pulled a check from the envelope in the amount of $352.00. She turned around and held the check in front of her mother’s eyes, asking in a very unkind tone, "How did my presence here today help you get this?"

"That’s none of your business, Hennessey. Now just run along. You’ve got a long drive back."

Placing both thumbs and forefingers on the center of the check, Hennessey threatened to tear it in half. "You’d better tell. They won’t cash it if it’s been taped together."

Townsend walked out and came up behind her friend, putting her hand on her back, feeling coiled tension and heat.

The move distracted Hennessey just enough to allow Maribelle to grab the check from her, and she shoved it into her shirt. "I told you this here’s none of your business, young lady. Now, just get into that fancy car and take off!"

"Fine, I’ll just call the Department of Social Services. I’m sure they’ll be glad to investigate a little fraud."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," Maribelle scoffed.

"When a state employee asks me questions about my parentage, my support and my education , I’m involved. And if I’m involved, you’re committing fraud. So I do know what I’m talking about, Momma. I suggest you tell me the truth, or the state will."

"Fine!" She said this so forcefully that a spray of spittle flew out of the gaping hole where a bicuspid should have been. Hennessey wiped her face and stepped back, leaning against Townsend, who put an arm around her waist. "I don’t know why it matters to you, Miss High and Mighty North Carolina, but I’m starving to death down here. Somebody told me about a way to get a little help, so I took it."

"How am I involved?" Hennessey asked.

"I had to get a birth certificate saying you were sixteen," the woman answered, unashamed. "I knew the man was coming today, so that’s why I had you come over."

Hennessey laughed, despite her anger. "How stupid was that guy? I look older than I am!"

Her mother gave her a look that indicated just how gullible she thought her daughter was. "I had to slip him a couple of Jacksons to get him to go along. Everyone’s a cheat," she muttered.

"Thanks for telling me the truth," Hennessey said. "If that is the truth." She took Townsend’s hand and started to walk down the drive.

"Are you gonna tell them?" Maribelle demanded.

Stopping in her tracks, but not turning around, Hennessey said, "No, I’m not gonna tell them. How long can you get the benefits?"

"Two years. The cheap motherfuckers only give you two years."

"Fine. Thanks." She continued to walk, gripping Townsend’s hand tightly.

"Promise you won’t tell!" Maribelle called after them.

"I promise," Hennessey replied, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks.

An hour later, they were sitting on the dock at Boudreaux’ Shrimp Shack, and Hennessey was lazily skipping stones across the calm waters.

Townsend’s voice broke the silence. "How ya doin’, buddy? Feel like talking?"

Hennessey smiled at her friend and said, "Sorry I’ve been so withdrawn. She … she never ceases to amaze and disappoint me."

"I know that, sweetheart, I really do."

"I’ve been thinking about it," Hennessey said, "and I’ve decided I’m going to have Kate help me make up a spreadsheet and figure out how much money my mother's stealing. I’m gonna pay it all back , no matter how long it takes me."

"I knew that would be your instinct," Townsend said. She slipped her arm around Hennessey’s waist and gave her a squeeze. "You’re such an honest, mature woman. Are you absolutely certain you and Maribelle are genetically connected?"

"Yep. Daddy would have noticed," Hennessey said, laughing softly.

"Well, this is one more example of why you justifiably love your grandma so much. She and your granddaddy are the people who’ve made you the woman you are. If you’d been left with your momma, you’d be helping her figure out ways to defraud the government rather than ways to pay the money back."

"Yeah, she's certainly not a person I'd like to model my life after." She sat quietly for a few minutes with Townsend letting her set the pace of their conversation. "You know," Hennessey began, "this is part of the problem for Kate. We have a difficult time communicating about things that are more emotional than logical."

"Logical?"

"Yeah." Hennessey skimmed another stone across the water. "Kate is very logical, very linear. She likes to look at the benefits and drawbacks of a situation and then decide how much of her time and energies to invest in it. I understand that's how she is," Hennessey said. "I really do." She put her hands behind her, resting them on the dock, then leaned back, looking up at the sky for a moment. "But she doesn't seem to be able to do the same for me."

Townsend lightly scratched her back and asked, "How do you mean, baby?"

"I don't mean to make Kate sound cold, because she isn't," Hennessey said emphatically. "She's kind and generous and very supportive of me , as long as I'm not doing something that she thinks will only hurt me."

"Ahh … so part of it is that she's protective of you," Townsend said.

"Yeah. That's all of it, really. She wouldn't care if I was just wasting my time , it's my time to waste. But she doesn't understand why I'm connected to people who hurt me, people who don't understand me, people who don't support me completely."

"And I'd guess that your mother is at the top of the list of people who hurt you."

"Yeah, she's pretty much number one," Hennessey agreed. "Kate wants me to set a limit with my grandparents to coerce them into accepting our relationship, but she wants me to cut my mother off , permanently."

"Oh, Hennessey, you could never do that," Townsend said, giving her friend a warm smile. "You'd visit your momma in jail if she took a shot at you!"

"Thanks for understanding," Hennessey said, laughing softly at her friend's example. "That means a lot to me."

"I understand how you feel about your family and your home, Hennessey. I also know that the two are interwoven for you. This land, these people, this ocean." She threw a stone as far as she could and added, "The combination is your home. You’ll never be happy if you’re too far away from any of them."

Hennessey didn’t say another word. She rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and cried for a long while with Townsend slowly trailing her hand down the shaking back.

The next day they went out to the nature preserve and spent the better part of the morning walking around, trying to identify the profusion of native plants and animals. Hennessey did significantly better at the game than Townsend, but the blonde was so happy to see her friend in such a relaxed, upbeat mood that she didn’t allow her competitive spirit to interfere.

"You seem like you feel pretty good today," Townsend said. "No hangover from yesterday's visit?"

"No, not really," Hennessey said. "When I'm not with her, I have the ability to summon my empathetic side and see how tragic her life really is. It's just when I'm with her that I feel like strangling her." She gave her friend a sad smile and said, "You know, you sure didn’t have much to say about why you were free to come down here. Is everything going okay with Jenna?"

Shrugging, Townsend said, "Yeah. At least I think it is. She needed to go home, and she didn’t feel comfortable taking me. She was sure her family would notice how we act around each other , and I’m sure she’s right."

"And … that doesn’t bother you?"

"I wish she would come out to them and get it over with, but she’s making progress. I’ve made it my business to meet some lesbians in Logan, and she feels comfortable socializing with them. Heck, we even hold hands in public , on deserted streets," she added, laughing. "I can’t make her go any faster than she’s comfortable with , even though I wish I could."

"I wish Kate felt like you do," Hennessey said. "She’s not the most patient person in the world."

"Honey, she’s gonna be a doctor. If you wanted patient, you should have gone for a poet or a sculptor!"

"Yeah, good point," Hennessey said, chuckling. "I guess she can’t have every trait that I want. Heck, I’m sure I fall short in a lot of areas for her, too."

"We all do," Townsend agreed. "It only matters that the important traits are there."

Looking at her friend just long enough to make her slightly uncomfortable, Hennessey asked, "Does Jenna have everything that’s important to you?"

Thinking about her answer for quite a while, Townsend finally nodded. "Yeah. She does. She’s kind and generous and thoughtful and patient with me. She rarely says a bad word about anyone, and she makes it a point to help others. She’s been a very good influence on me, and I’m grateful for that." She smiled impishly and said, "And she’s a hell of a kisser. Very few miles on those sweet lips."

"There’s a glimmer of the old Townsend," Hennessey said, laughing heartily. "I miss your raunchier side sometimes."

The blonde shrugged, coloring a little as she did. "Jenna’s such an innocent woman that I intentionally tamp that part of myself down. I guess I have to be away from her for a few days to let it come back out. Sometimes I feel like the reformed town prostitute living with the preacher."

"I hope you know that I love every part of you, Townsend , old, new, mature, immature. Every part of you is just right."

"Thanks. The same goes for me. It always has, and it always will."

Part 15

From: Townsend Bartley <demonrum@loganlink.net> Sent: January 02, 2000

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi pal,

I hope you had a fabulous New Year, and that it’s not too depressing to be back in your overworked groove. I would thank you for the note you sent, thanking me for the thank-you gifts I sent to your daddy and grandparents, but we could go on like that for weeks <s>.

After a great deal of thought, I did something that seemed like the right thing, Hennessey. I hope I haven’t offended you, or stepped on your toes by doing it, and I trust you to tell me if I have.

I sent a check for $8400 to the South Carolina Department of Social Services and told them it was a donation — to be used any way they want. I recall that your mom was getting around $350 a month, and since she was entitled to twenty-four months of payments, I thought that was about right. I know that the present value of the future payments is really less than that, but I wanted to add a little something for administration — so I rounded up.

Here’s why I did it — full disclosure:

I don’t want you saddled with one dime of debt that isn’t rightfully yours. I can’t bear to think of your paying off what will be well over $10,000 when you’re through with it. It’s just not right, Hennessey, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

I owe you such a debt — and even though I know there’s no way to pay you back with money, in this case, money can help. If not for you, I’d be a wealthy version of your mother. Of course, it’s possible that someone else could have helped me find my way out — but I doubt that I would have lived to meet that person. You found me at my lowest point, sweetheart, and you alone helped pull me out of the depths. Paying the state back for your mother’s fraud is a bargain, compared to how much I should reimburse my insurance company for my various advertent and inadvertent suicide attempts. This is just one more way to make reparations — in this case for a fellow alcoholic.

Doing something nice for you makes me feel good about myself.

There ya go, buddy. Full disclosure. If you want to, you can pay the state as well, but you’ll be double paying. I sent a cashier’s check and didn’t give a return address <beg>.

All my love,

Townsend

"Hi, buddy. Is this a good time to talk?"

"Townsend! What a surprise! It’s always a good time to talk to you."

"Well, uhm, I don’t want to interfere with the very limited time you have with Kate …"

"Hey, hey, Kate’s at the hospital, and I’m just hanging out. You don’t sound very good. What’s wrong?"

Townsend let out a long sigh and said, "Jenna and I are having … problems. Big problems, Hennessey. I think we might have to separate."

"Oh, sweetheart! What happened? I thought things were going well."

"They were. They are. Oh, Hennessey, I’m so confused about this."

"Tell me, baby. Tell me what’s going on."

Hennessey’s voice was so soft and soothing, that Townsend felt the words begin to tumble out. "I love her, and I’d be with her for the rest of my life … but she can’t commit to me. She won’t tell her parents, and she won’t even discuss the issue. She says that it’s out of the question. She seems to think that we can go on this way indefinitely , but I can’t!"

She was crying now, and Hennessey had a hard time understanding her words. "Shh … shh … take it easy, baby. I’ve got all night. Catch your breath and slow down. We’ll work through this together."

"O … okay," Townsend said as a series of shuddering breaths came through the phone. "Here’s the whole thing. Jenna is a good Mormon girl, and she doesn’t now, and probably never will, feel good about being a lesbian. I feel good about who I am, Hennessey, and I’ve worked so hard to love myself that it feels wrong to be closeted. I’ve hung in here for so long, but I don’t see how this will ever be resolved. She told me tonight that she’s happiest when it’s just the two of us , that she can forget that we’re both women when we’re alone. It just seems hopeless!"

"Oh, Townsend, maybe she just needs a little more time , "

"No, no, that’s not it. I … I shouldn’t tell you this … but it’s driving me crazy. We’re not having sex anymore. At all. She says she can’t relax enough to be sexual, and she thinks that we shouldn’t focus so much on sex. Focus! We’ve had sex around five times this year! Is that normal for people our age? Jesus, Hennessey!"

"You poor thing. I had no idea."

"This isn’t the kind of thing I normally talk about with you. I wouldn’t say anything now, but she makes me feel like I’m being too demanding. I love her, Hennessey, and I want to express my love for her by touching her. How can that be wrong?"

"It’s not wrong, sweetheart. It’s exactly how you should feel about each other. You deserve to have your partner desire you and show you how much she wants you. You deserve that."

"I don’t understand this, Hennessey. I love her, and I know she loves me. She shows me how much she loves me by the way she treats me. But she doesn’t want to have sex. We kiss , often, but as soon as she can tell I'm getting excited, she pulls away. She recently said that she thought we could move to Salt Lake City after she graduates and be part of her family if we stopped having sex and loved each other platonically."

"And that’s enough for her?" Hennessey asked quietly.

"Yes. She said that she can’t bear to think of being away from me again, but she also doesn’t think that we can have sex. She said she’d much rather give up sex than me."

"Are you willing to make that tradeoff?"

"No," Townsend said quietly. "I love her with all my heart, but I'll start to resent her if I can’t touch her again. I crave her body, her taste, Hennessey. I will never allow myself to feel guilty because of that."

"You shouldn’t feel guilty, Townsend. Your sexuality is a gift, and you shouldn’t sacrifice a part of yourself just to please Jenna. That isn’t you, baby."

"I know. I know. But how do I leave someone I love? Someone who loves me?"

"I don’t know the answer to that. I wish I did. Can the two of you get some therapy?"

"No. She doesn’t trust therapists if they aren’t Mormon, and she can’t talk about this with a Mormon therapist."

"That’s pretty circular logic," Hennessey said.

"Oh, I could go on for hours, but it’s her belief system and I refuse to belittle it."

"You’re a good partner, Townsend. A very good partner. And no matter what happens, I hope you know that."

"Thanks. You know your approval means a lot to me."

"Well, yours does to me, so that only makes sense."

"I’m gonna try to pin her down and see if I can force her to give me some hope. I don’t want to lose her, Hennessey. It’s breaking my heart."

"I know it is, baby. I know it is. I’ll do anything I can to help you through this. Anything. I’ll come to Utah if you need me. Just let me know, and I’m there."

"That helps more than you’ll ever know," Townsend whimpered. "I’d never ask you to do that, especially so close to finals, but to have you offer means the world to me."

"Hey, I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t mean it. Promise you’ll call me if you need me to come to you. Do you promise?"

"Ye … yeah. I promise."

"Good. Now, you get some sleep and call me tomorrow. I want to see how you’re doing. I’ll be home by 6:00."

"Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for being there for me."

"I always will be, Townsend. I always will be."

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: July 01, 2000

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi buddy,

I’m back in Boston and working full time on not drinking. It’s been so long, Hennessey, but I’m so sad and so down that I crave some way to stop the pain. Thank God that Laura, my old sponsor, is available and willing to work with me again. I’ve been going to a meeting every day — sometimes twice a day. I will do whatever I have to do, but I’m not going to drink again. I’m not! I’ve worked too hard for too long to give up now.

Write to me, pal. I need all the support I can get.

T

p.s. The only good thing about being home is that I don't have to have a separate e-mail account to write to you. Note the old addy is back in service.

"Miss Townsend, you have a visitor."

Townsend looked up from the television program she was watching and shook her head to clear it. "Sorry. I was half asleep. Who is it, Lupe?"

"It’s a woman," the maid answered. Looking a little unsure of herself, she added, "She says her name is Stretch. Is that right?"

By the time the name registered in her brain, Townsend was off the couch, running for the hall. "Hennessey!" She got only a few steps before she slowed and called out over her shoulder, "Thanks, Lupe!" In her stocking feet, she slid the last ten feet just like a skier stopping at the bottom of a hill, coming to rest gently in Hennessey’s welcoming arms. "I have never been so happy to see someone in my entire life," she murmured, nuzzling her head into her friend’s chest. "You don’t know how much I needed this."

"Yes, I did," Hennessey replied. "That’s why I’m here."

Looking up into the taller woman’s eyes, Townsend asked, "Was it very hard for you to get away? Is Kate okay with your being here?"

"She’s fine, Townsend. Don’t worry about me. Let me worry about you, okay? I’ve got three days, and I want to spend them tending to your every need."

"Damn, why don’t they make more women like you?" Townsend dropped her head once again and allowed herself a moment of sublime pleasure, experiencing the safety and security of the comforting embrace.

"I don’t know if there are more like me, but I’m here now. How do you want to spend our time?"

"I wanna go to the Vineyard. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Pack a bag, and let’s head out. Will your parents be there?"

"No, my father took a couple of weeks off, and he’s with my mother on a book tour in northern Europe. They’re making it a combined business trip/vacation."

Hennessey gave her friend a concerned look and asked, "Is it good for you to be alone, honey? Maybe you should have gone with them."

"No, they invited me, but it’s important for me to have some stability. I need to go to my meetings and focus on myself , travel isn’t right for me just now."

"But … what about the Vineyard?"

"Oh, that’ll be fine. There are a lot of meetings there, and I can call Art, who's always good at making me feel more stable."

"Great. Let’s get packed and get going."

"You’re on."

"This is a very different place in the summer," Hennessey said that night as they walked along a very crowded street.

"Yeah, especially on the 4th of July weekend. It’s kinda nice, though. I mean, I don’t like to have to wait in a long line to buy an ice cream cone, but I love to go sit on the beach and watch the sun come up. When it gets warm, I strip off my clothes and go for a long swim, then I can lie down and bake in the sun until my suit’s dry. That’s hard to do before July."

"Yeah, I love to do that, too," Hennessey said. "But I can do it in March. One more benefit of South Carolina."

"The list is endless, isn’t it?" Townsend asked, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze. "Is Kate as crazy about the South as you are?"

Hennessey was quiet for a minute, and when Townsend looked up, she saw a slightly perturbed expression. "Uhm … no, she isn’t. She hasn’t come to love it, and given how my grandma’s been acting, it doesn’t look good."

"But she knows how you feel about it, doesn’t she?"

Hennessey gave her a wry smile and said, "She knew that within five minutes of meeting me. I should be the president of the South Carolina Visitors Bureau. And though she knows that I wouldn’t be happy anywhere else, she plans on applying to residency programs all over the country. It’s … been a bone of contention between us."

"Oh, damn. How long will she be in residency?"

"Four years. Four long, long years. More if she wants to do research."

"Fuck!" Townsend stopped in her tracks, causing the long line of tourists to have to move around them, grumbling as they did so. "Four years! You've barely been able to stand being in North Carolina!"

"I know that," Hennessey said, taking her friend’s arm and leading her down the street again. "But Kate makes a good point. She doesn’t have a great deal of control over where she’ll be accepted. If she gets into one of the top residency programs, she has to take it. I don’t know how we’ll manage, but we’ll just have to."

"Okay, if you understand her point, why are you two arguing about it?"

"Uhm … she … hurt my feelings," Hennessey said, blushing slightly. "She wouldn’t even apply to the Medical University of South Carolina. She said the program was third rate."

"Oh, you poor thing. No wonder that hurt your feelings."

"You know, it wouldn’t have hurt me as much if she ultimately wanted to go into research, but she wants to go into private practice. Your clients don't care where you served your residency. I doubt that they'd have any way of knowing! She could go anywhere."

"I’m sorry, Hennessey. I wish she shared your priorities."

"Yeah, I do, too, but she has a point. I could go anywhere in the country and write for a few years. I want to teach, but I’m not in a big hurry. It would actually make me a better candidate to have some short stories, or even a novel, published before I applied for a teaching position."

"If you moved with her for four years, would she move to South Carolina to start her practice?"

"Oh, we haven’t crossed that bridge yet. We’re both so overworked that we try not to have too many conversations about our future. We just try to get through each day, to be honest."

"Let’s walk down to the ocean," Townsend said. "There are too many people around here."

"Okay. That’s an invite I’ll never refuse. The ocean is my favorite place."

They walked along in silence, holding loosely onto each other’s hands. Reaching the water’s edge, they both removed their shoes and socks and padded along the beach, letting the cold water splash against their bare legs. "Uhm … you don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal, but are you happy that you’re with Kate?"

"Yes," Hennessey said, without a second’s hesitation. "I’m very happy that we found each other, and I know that we’ll have a good life together. There’s just one major problem."

"And that is?" Townsend asked, looking up at her friend.

"We’re … waiting for our life to begin again," Hennessey said, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What we had in Paris was so wonderful, Townsend. Kate is such an interesting, funny, bright woman. But we don’t spend enough time together to progress in our relationship. We've been together almost four years, and we’re not as close as we were during the first year. I’m not worried about it, because I know who she is, and I know that we’re right for each other. But I’m anxious to have time together again. You can’t deepen your love for someone if you don’t have lots and lots of time together. My only hope is that Kate can get into a residency program that recognizes that doctors are human, and that they need some free time and some time to be with their families. That’s why I thought it would be nice for her to be in a more laid-back residency program. If she gets into one of the big research institutions, I’m afraid it’ll be four more years of the same old shit."

"I wish things were going better for you, Hennessey. You deserve a good relationship."

"Oh, don’t get me wrong, Townsend, things are good in terms of quality. It’s the quantity we’re having problems with. It would have been better if we’d met after she had her medical degree, or after her residency, but you can’t time these things."

Looking up at her friend with a sad, resigned smile, Townsend said, "Timing is everything, isn’t it?"

Hennessey smiled gently and nodded. "It is."

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: July 22, 2000

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hi buddy,

I wanted to send you one last good wish before you head off to France. I know this vacation is just what you two need, and I hope you make use of every moment to get reacquainted with one another.

I know that I’ve thanked you for both the lovely journals and the encouragement, and I wanted you to know that I’ve started to use them to write. I’ve been amazed at how much easier it is to express myself — especially my deepest, most private feelings — by using a fountain pen and journal. As you know, I’ve been writing little things for years now, and while some of them have been fairly accomplished, none of them have come from my guts. They’ve always been a little bare of emotion, a little reserved. I’m going to try to spend the rest of the summer getting some of these pent-up feelings out of my heart and onto a page. Thanks so much, Hennessey, for encouraging me to do this, and again, thanks for the journals. Every time I hold one of them in my hands, I think of you.

All my love,

Townsend

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: September 4, 2000

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Bonjour!

I love Paris in the springtime, I love Paris in the fall …

What a lovely time we had, Townsend. I'm still giddy about our trip — so giddy that I don't even mind that I have to start school tomorrow <s>.

This trip reminded me of something very important — and that's that I can never let the small stumbling blocks that we have make me think the relationship is in serious danger. I love Kate with all my heart, and when we have uninterrupted time together, we're able to capture the magic again. I feel like I did when we were first together — like a doe-eyed girl who's fallen in love hard <s>.

I was sitting at my desk last night, getting some notes organized, and I found myself staring at her while she read. I have no idea how much time had passed, but I was utterly fascinated. I swear I could have spent the whole night just looking at her. But, as luck would have it, she looked up and saw me. I think my expression let her know I was thinking about her, and being the perceptive girl that she is, she came over and took me by the hand and led me straight to bed.

We're both riding a high from being together for a whole month, and I hope it lasts for a very long time <s>.

We're so good together when we're clicking, Townsend, and this trip reminded me of every reason that I fell in love with Kate. She's the right person for me, and I am surer of that now than I ever have been.

Forgive me for going on about this, but I'm so happy, I'm about to burst!

Hennessey (floating on a cloud of Parisian happiness)

From: Townsend Bartley <myrealname@teaparty.com> Sent: November 15, 2000

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Hey buddy,

You are never going to guess where I’m going to spend the month of January. Give up? I’m going to camp! That’s right, I said camp! Mother is going to participate in MaryAnn’s writer’s workshop again, and I’ve decided to accompany her. My classes here will be over by then, and I’m actually going to participate in the workshop. I’m quite certain that I want to be a writer, and I’m availing myself of every possible opportunity to learn the craft.

By the way, you’d love the character development class I’m taking now. My instructor is fabulous, and she’s very, very easy on the eyes <s>. For the first time in months, I’m looking at a woman with lust in my heart again, and I’m thinking about asking her out when the class is over.

So, things are looking up for me. How’s it going with you? I know that Kate had to have all of her residency applications in by today, and I was wondering if you two had reached an accord on where she applies. I, of course, think she should come to Boston, but my motives are entirely selfish <s>.

Let me know if you’ll be home during your winter break. I’ll have a car, so I’ll come to see you, or bring you up to Hilton Head for a weekend. Of course, I’d love to see Kate, too. I don’t think we’ve spent more than an hour together in all these years, and since you and she are a permanent item, I think it’s time we got to know each other a little better.

Love you,

T

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: November 16, 2000

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi bud,

Well, don’t that beat all? (as they say in S.C.) I think it’s wonderful that you’ll be attending the writer’s workshop with your mom, and I’m even more delighted to hear how dedicated you are to perfecting your craft. There are times I wish I’d chosen your path and just learned how to be a better writer, but I’m too far down the academic track to stop now. Besides, the chances of supporting myself as a writer are slim, and it’s important for me to be able to provide a little help for my grandparents as soon as humanly possible. But like you, I see myself as a writer, and I’ll never stop writing, even if I have to sleep for only four hours a night to find the time.

I have some good news about Kate’s plans. She applied to Stanford, Columbia, The University of Chicago, UCLA and the Medical College of South Carolina <yay!>. As you can see, we could wind up anywhere in the country, but we’re resolved to have a long talk and make the decision that’s right for both of us — for the long term. Having that time in France has continued to pay dividends for our relationship, Townsend. I feel like we’re rock solid now and both committed to the same goals. We’ve been to France twice, and each time has changed our lives. Paris must be our lucky city! I just wish it were in South Carolina <s>.

Sadly, Gramma is still unwilling to have Kate accompany me home for Christmas. I haven’t had the time to spend with her to get her more used to the idea of my being a lesbian, but the good news is that Kate isn’t angry about it this year. She’s going to Chicago to see her family, and I’m going to fly to Chicago the day after Christmas. I’ll stay with her for about a week, then come back to Beaufort for the rest of my break. Mine is longer than Kate’s, so she’ll go back to Durham on her own. You’re welcome to come to my house at any time, buddy, but I would like to come to camp as well. I miss MaryAnn and would love to see her again. We’ll firm up plans as the time draws near.

Things are looking up for both of us, honey, and if your writing instructor plays her cards right, she could be a very, very lucky woman. <s>

Love,

H

Hennessey took a long, leisurely lick of her ice cream cone and cocked her head at her friend. "Do you remember the first time we came here?"

Townsend took a protracted look around, seeing the red and white striped lighthouse, the small shops and cafes, the calm waters of the Atlantic lapping against the sea walls. "I was just thinking the same thing. It doesn’t look very different , but we do."

"A lot of years have passed," Hennessey said, a warm smile playing on her lips.

Townsend nodded reflectively. "How did they slip by so quickly?"

"They didn’t all move quickly," Hennessey said. "College went by much quicker than grad school. This last year seems like it’s lasted three years for me. But now that the end is in sight, time is flying by again."

"How do you feel about having run out of degrees to earn?" Townsend asked, giving her friend a playful wink.

"Good. I’m more relieved for Kate, though. We both have more things to do, but in some ways, the hardest part is over for her. One of our top goals is to have her do her residency at a program that doesn’t require twenty-four-hour on-call shifts. Those are not only inhumane, they compromise patient care , and that makes Kate crazy."

"I can see why," Townsend agreed. "So, what does a resident do when she’s on call?"

"In most hospitals, the resident on call deals with any emergency during the night. She would be called if a patient in the ER was acting psychotic or volatile , the usual psychiatric stuff. Plus, she’d be called if one of the in-patients was having psychiatric symptoms during the night."

"I bet that most of her patients are very, very troubled."

"Oh, yeah, but that’s what you expect during your training. By the time you’re in private practice , you’ve seen it all."

"Do you think she’ll like being a psychiatrist? Does it fit her personality?"

"Uhm … I think it’s a compromise for her, to be honest. If there were forty hours in a day, she’d like to be a trauma surgeon. But she wants to have a regular home life. We want to raise children together, Townsend, and if you’re going to be a top-flight surgeon, you have to devote your life to it."

"I guess that’s one thing I’ve learned in the last seven and a half years," Townsend said, smiling. "Life’s all about compromises. Sucks, doesn’t it?"

"Sometimes it does," Hennessey agreed. "And in our case, Kate’s going to be called on to make the majority of the compromises. I hope it doesn’t get to be too much for her."

"Just keep talking about it, babe. You two can work out anything if you’re both honest about your feelings."

"Agreed. Now, let’s go on back to camp and see if we can talk your mom into going out to dinner with us."

"That shouldn’t be hard to do. She still thinks you’re a living saint."

"Damn, she’s perceptive," Hennessey chuckled. "That must be why she’s such a good writer."

A week later

"Hi there, Mrs. Boudreaux. How are you?"

"What in the world?" The older woman walked over to Townsend and wrapped her in a hug. "Does Hennessey know you’re here?"

"Nope. I thought I’d surprise her. I stopped by the house, but no one answered."

"Oh, she won’t be back for quite some time, honey. She went fishing with her daddy and her granddaddy this morning."

"Darn, I wish I had called her. I would have loved to go out with them."

"Oh, nonsense! You don’t want to smell like fish all day!"

"Well, no," Townsend admitted, "but I’ve never been on a commercial fishing boat. I think it would be interesting."

"Have you ever been in a commercial kitchen?" Blue eyes so familiar that they caught the blonde by surprise twinkled at her, and Townsend found her head shaking. "That’s pretty interesting, too. Why don’t you take off that pretty sweater and put on an apron? I could use some help."

Smiling warmly at the woman, Townsend did as requested, glad that she’d worn a T-shirt under her heavy sweater.

Since Townsend was a neophyte, she was given the simplest of tasks, but because the lunch rush was over, they weren’t bothered by many customers, and the work went quickly. They hadn’t spoken much , Townsend having to concentrate to avoid cutting her fingers off while she chopped vegetables for soup. But after a couple of hours, the older woman said, "Have you met this girl that Hennessey’s interested in?"

"Yes, I have." Putting down her knife, Townsend looked at Mrs. Boudreaux. "She’s more than interested in her; she’s in love with her, and they plan on living their lives together."

The older woman's expression hardened, and her grimace was so tight that her lips nearly disappeared. "I don’t like it."

Townsend walked over to her and put her hand on the stiff, tension-filled back. "That’s what Hennessey tells me. She wishes it were different. She really does. She loves you and her granddaddy and her daddy more than you'll ever know."

"But why does she have to be like that, Townsend? She’s such a pretty girl, and she’d make a wonderful wife and mother. Any man would be lucky to have her."

"She’s not interested in men. I don’t think she ever was. Didn’t you think it was a little odd that she didn’t have a date all through high school?"

"No, I did not. I thought she was just a good girl, and trying to avoid trouble."

"She is a good girl. Hennessey is just about the best girl on the planet, and it will break her heart if you can’t accept her as she is."

Giving Townsend a narrowed stare, Mrs. Boudreaux snapped, "I accept my baby girl exactly as she is! I just don’t want that other one around here."

"You know what that means, don’t you?" Townsend asked softly.

Mrs. Boudreaux didn't speak. She just shook her head briefly.

"Hennessey will come home less frequently. She loves you dearly, but she won’t be away from Kate for long periods of time."

"That girl's the one who put these notions into my baby girl's head. She's the one who's talked her into this nonsense, and she's the one who's trying to lure her away from here."

"I don't think that's true," Townsend said. "But even if it were true, you’re going to have to learn to welcome Kate into your home if you want Hennessey to come visit."

Giving her a dismissive look, Mrs. Boudreaux sniffed, "Big doctor from Chicago wouldn’t want to come to a place like this. Traipses off to Paris at the drop of a hat. Got more money than she does morals. Besides, what’s down here to interest a girl like that?"

"Hennessey is," Townsend reminded her. "Hennessey’s happy here, and Kate loves her. Kate wants her to be happy, Mrs. Boudreaux. Don’t you?"

The older woman took off her apron and threw it to the table, turning her back on Townsend and stalking from the kitchen in a huff.

Not long after the abrupt departure, Townsend heard the horn of a boat that was drawing near. Peering out the window, she saw the Boudreaux’s boat gliding through the water, the engine idling roughly. She dashed out the back door and was standing on the dock when Dawayne leapt from the boat to grab the line that his father threw to him. Hennessey was piloting, and she was concentrating so hard that she didn’t look up to see Townsend. My God, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman, the blonde thought as she stared at her friend. This was Hennessey in all her glory: on the water, helping her family earn a living. She looked happy and relaxed and confident and competent , every one of her very appealing qualities standing out in vivid display.

Townsend was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear steps approach, and she jumped a bit when a hand fell onto her shoulder. "I love that girl more than she’ll ever know," Mrs. Boudreaux said, her voice catching. "I want her to be happy."

Townsend impulsively wrapped her in a hug, squeezing so hard that the woman gasped for breath. "She knows that. I swear she does. She’s a very patient woman, and she won’t rush you, but it would mean so much to her if you made an attempt to welcome Kate."

"I will," the older woman said, her voice taking on a steely resolve. "I’d do anything for that child."

After dinner, the pair sat out on the dock, watching the bobbing lights of boats returning to shore. "You’ve had a pretty good day," Hennessey said. "You’ve learned how to be a prep cook, and you’ve convinced my grandma to give Kate a chance. What else do you have up the sleeve of that sweater?"

Giving her friend a playful bump to the shoulder, Townsend said, "It wasn’t hard to get your grandma to see the light. She loves you so much, Hennessey. She could never bear to cause you any pain."

"I know she does," the older woman said. "But I still appreciate that you made some progress with her. I’m very grateful to you for that."

Over the soft sounds of the water lapping at the pier, a voice called out. "Hennessey, telephone for you."

"Be right in, Daddy." The tall woman got up and brushed off her jeans. "Who could be calling me?" Her smile faded and she started running. "It has to be Kate."

Townsend followed her into the cramped kitchen, the place bustling from the late dinner crowd. Hennessey looked very uncomfortable, and she was trying to speak quietly. Townsend caught her eye and pulled out her cell phone, mouthing, "Use my phone."

With a relieved look, Hennessey nodded and said, "I’ll call you right back, Kate." Looking at her father, she said, "Daddy, I’ll be at the house if you need me."

"Okay, baby. Are you staying over, Townsend?"

"I wasn’t planning on it, but I might."

"We’re always glad to have you, honey," Mrs. Boudreaux said.

"If I don’t stay, I’ll be sure to come and say goodbye," she said, following Hennessey out of the room. Running to catch up with her, she tugged at the back of her jeans just as the taller woman was dialing the number. "Hey, wait a minute, babe."

Hennessey stopped and looked at her, blue eyes wide. "She said she’s not applying for a match!"

"What?"

Waving her hand, Hennessey said, "It’s complicated. I’ll tell you later."

"Babe, I have to get going if I’m going to drive back to Hilton Head. I have some things to do tomorrow, and I can’t really afford to stay overnight. I’ll give you my calling card, and you can call Kate from your home phone."

"Shit!" Lips pursed, Hennessey said, "I have a feeling this is going to be a long night. Can I go to Hilton Head with you? I don’t want my family hearing this conversation."

"Sure. I’ll drive you back home whenever you want. Besides, I’d like a little company tonight. I’m feeling tired."

"You go tell my family, and I’ll get ready," Hennessey said. "I’ll be right over."

Three hours later, Hennessey poked her head into Townsend’s bungalow and said, "I killed your battery and your spare."

The blonde looked up from the TV program she had been devoting twenty-five percent of her interest to and said, "You look like you need a walk."

"That would be nice," Hennessey agreed. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure I am. Let me get a heavier jacket. I’ll get you a sweater, too."

Walking along the wide, sandy beach, their path lit by a bright, full moon, Hennessey held Townsend’s hand and said, "I don’t know if she’s frightened of taking this next step, or if she really needs a break. This is the first I’ve heard of this idea, and it scares the hell out of me."

"Back up, stretch. I’m so in the dark, I haven’t a clue."

"Oh, shit. I forget that you don’t know everything I know."

"I'd like to know everything that you know, but that's just a fantasy," Townsend teased.

Hennessey ruffled her friend's hair and said, "Let me start from the beginning. I told you that Kate had applied to several places for a psychiatric residency."

"Right. That much, I got."

"Well, that’s only one part of the process. There’s a system that was developed to make sure every residency gets filled, and every qualified student gets placed , as quickly as possible. That’s the thing that Kate’s decided not to participate in."

"But why?"

"In effect, she’s decided not to start her residency in July. She says she needs at least a year off. But since she’s never even hinted at this, it’s throwing me for a loop. It’s not like her to do something impulsive, and if it’s not impulsive, I’m angry with her for not telling me earlier. The deadline is tomorrow, and she’s not going to list her preferences. That means that even if she changes her mind, she won’t be able to find a decent residency program."

"Jesus, she sure didn’t give you much time to react."

"That’s why I’m angry," Hennessey said, her voice rising in frustration. "I’m sure she didn’t decide this tonight. I hate to be left out of decisions like this, and she knows that full well. This affects both of us, and it pisses me off to see her act like this is just about her."

Gripping her friend’s hand a little tighter, Townsend said, "There has to be more here than she’s letting on, baby. Don’t be angry with her until you find out exactly what went on in her mind. If you ask me, it sounds like she’s frightened. And the last thing you want when you’re afraid is to have your partner angry with you."

Hennessey took her hand away and draped her arm across Townsend’s shoulders. "You’re right. As usual." She laughed softly and said, "It’s probably best that I’m not home right now. We’d be up all night arguing, and that’s not good for either of us. I’m sure I’ll be a little more sympathetic by tomorrow."

"Well, in Kate’s defense, she’s the one who’ll have to do the work. If she’s not ready for it,”

"It’s not the fact that she wants a year off that bothers me. It’s that she didn’t tell me she was having doubts." The taller woman stopped and faced her friend. "If we don’t trust each other to share our doubts and fears, what’s the point? Being in a relationship isn’t the easiest thing in the world, and one of the most rewarding aspects of it is having the support of your partner when you’re having a rough time. It really bothers me and worries me that she didn’t tell me sooner than this."

"Maybe it was in the back of her mind and just hit her when the deadline was near," Townsend suggested.

"That’s not how Kate thinks," Hennessey said. "She’s very, very methodical. I’d be the most surprised woman in the world if this just came up. But I suppose anything’s possible, so I should let her explain it more fully when I get home."

"When will you go home?" Townsend asked.

"I was going to leave next Sunday, but I’m heading back tomorrow instead. Grandma’s not gonna like it, but I’ve gotta go. Kate needs me."

"You’re a good partner, Hennessey. I know you two will work this out. I’m sure of it."

Hennessey nodded. "I’m sure we will, too. I just wish we'd already worked it out. Getting there is not gonna be fun."

Part 16 

Townsend ran across the compound, the early morning sun just beginning to peek over the rooftops of the cabins. The day was cool, bordering on cold for Hilton Head, but Townsend had been running year-round in Boston for the past few years, and she found the day to be quite balmy and invigorating. She opened the door to her cabin, surprised to find Hennessey dressed and ready to go. "You were out cold when I left for my run," she said. Grabbing a towel to wipe her face and neck, she paused to take a careful look at her friend. "You obviously didn't sleep well, but how bad was it?"

Hennessey shrugged equivocally. "I conked out about ten minutes before you got up." She gave her friend a wry smile and added, "I guess I'll sleep on the bus."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have to take the bus. I'll drive you to Durham."

"No, no, I always take the bus. It's no big deal. I don't want you to waste the better part of a day."

"Hey," Townsend protested, "don’t be so melodramatic. You know I enjoy being with you."

Forcing a smile, Hennessey nodded her head. "Okay. If you want to drive me, I'd love to have your company. You just have to promise not to throw me out if I whine the whole way to Durham."

"I’ll give you until we reach the North Carolina border to whine. After that I can’t be responsible for my actions."

The brunette nodded and attempted to smile, "Sounds like a deal. I’ve been on the bus so many times that I think I could find a stop no matter where you boot my butt out."

"That’s reassuring," Townsend said. "Let me take a shower, and then we're off, after you make me breakfast, that is. Granola with a banana, some yogurt and some tea, okay?"

"You're drinking tea now?" Hennessey asked, brightening.

"Yes, Hennessey, you've gained another convert. Now get moving!"

They'd just crossed the bridge to the mainland when Hennessey sighed and said, "Even though I'm just going a few hundred miles, I hate to leave the Low Country. You wouldn't think there'd be a big difference between North and South Carolina, but there sure is."

"I know how much you love it here," Townsend said, smiling at her friend, "and I don't blame you a bit."

"You really do understand, don't you?" Hennessey asked.

"More than you might guess," Townsend said. She smiled brightly and asked, "I'm thinking about … staying."

"Staying for what? For how long?"

"Staying to work … at camp," Townsend said. "MaryAnn made a proposal the other day, and it sounds very appealing."

Hennessey’s face lit up in a radiant smile, and her voice rose nearly an octave. "Tell me!"

Townsend smiled at her friend's obvious enthusiasm and said, "Well, as you might imagine, I have some pretty impressive contacts in the world of letters." She was using her most refined Boston Brahmin accent, making Hennessey giggle. "MaryAnn knows I want to write, and she also knows that I love it down here."

"You love it?" Hennessey asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course I do! I love the weather and the plants and the slower pace of life down here. It reminds me of the Vineyard, but it’s nice all year." She cocked her head and asked, "What’s not to love?"

Slapping her thigh, Hennessey said, "That’s my point!"

"Well, you’re right. I like the whole Low Country, but I particularly like Hilton Head. I love to play golf, I’m a pretty good tennis player, and I love to sail. It has everything I like, along with some fantastic restaurants, great shopping and no bad memories. I could be happy here."

"God, Townsend, that would be so wonderful! I’d be able to see you every time I came home!"

"I’d love to see you, too, stretch. But I’m thinking about doing this for more than great weather and Hennessey sightings. MaryAnn would like to expand her winter program — "

"Expand it how? When? Why?" Shaking her head, Hennessey laughed at her own rapid fire interrogation. "Maybe I'd learn more if I shut up and let you talk."

Townsend gave her a quick look and grinned when she met her eyes. "It makes me feel so good to see how happy you are about this."

"Happy? This is the best news I've heard in years! Now tell me everything!"

"There's not all that much to tell," Townsend said. "MaryAnn was surprised and pleased at how lucrative the winter writing program was, and she said that it didn't make much sense to only offer it for a month, given how quickly it sold out."

"I agree completely!" Hennessey said. "People were crazy about the program."

"So … MaryAnn wants to run it for nine months. She worked her butt off to get the winter program going, so she knows it's more than a full time job for someone."

"You'll be the what … assistant camp director?"

"Nope." Townsend shook her head and twitched an eyebrow at her friend. "I'd be the director of the writing program for adults, and Maryann’d continue to run the camp, since that's her true love."

"Townsend, that’s great! You’d be so good at that!"

"Thanks. I think I would, too. I like Boston, and I’m getting along well with my parents, but it’s time for me to do something on my own. I need to start making my own way in life."

"Where would you live? In the compound?"

Townsend blushed slightly and said, "Well, I hate to act like I’m too good to live in the compound …"

"Multi-million dollar home on the eighteenth green of Harbor Town?"

Flashing a playful scowl at her friend, Townsend said, "I think that would be a little ostentatious, don’t you? A small house outside of a development would be ideal. I just need two bedrooms and room for an office."

Hennessey nodded, her smile growing brighter. "It sounds like you’ve made up your mind. Have you?"

"Yeah, I think I have. There are a lot of good things about the job, but the best is how much free time I'll have. I'll have the entire summer off, and MaryAnn doesn't care what kind of schedule I set for myself."

"Damn, Townsend, that's a dream job!"

"I know! I couldn't have come up with a better job if I designed it myself."

"How's she gonna pay you, if that's not too personal a question."

"It’s a little late to start keeping secrets now, stretch. She's gonna pay me a salary that’s below the market standard, but she's sweetened the offer by giving me seven and a half percent of the tuition for each student — off the top."

"Is that gonna be enough money for you?"

"If I do well it is," Townsend said, a knowing gleam in her eyes. "There are ten cottages, and each sleeps six. If I could have those beds seventy-five percent filled for nine months at somewhere between a thousand and fifteen hundred dollars per week — I'd be doing all right."

"Are you sure about this, Townsend? I mean, the last thing I want to do is dissuade you, but have you really thought the numbers through?"

"Yep. I’ve done my homework. MaryAnn made me an offer, but I wasn’t happy with it. I know I’m just a year out of college, but this is gonna be a gold mine for her. Part of the lure in this program is gonna be the quality of the teachers. It’s my contacts that will get those writers in here. So that's what she’s buying, more than my current skills. I did some research and found out how much the average writing program director earns, and I built my negotiating strategy. I wanted to make sure I had a set amount of money coming in, even if the economy was doing poorly and people didn't have the money for extravagances like writing classes, so I wanted a salary. But I also wanted to be rewarded for working hard, and that's why I wanted a percentage of each camper's tuition."

"Damn, if someone offered me a teaching job, I'd just reach for a pen and sign the contract!"

"You can't do that, Hennessey," Townsend said, shaking her head. "You can't get screwed at the beginning of your tenure because you never catch up if you allow that."

"I'd have no idea how to do something like that," Hennessey said, clearly in awe of her friend's skills. "How'd you learn to do that?"

"We're WASP’s, Hennessey. It's in our genes."

Hennessey had been unusually quiet for the last half hour, and Townsend finally said, "Why don't you tell me what's going through your mind? I know this is weighing on you."

Giving her friend a smile, Hennessey said, "That's an understatement. It's not just that Kate is having doubts; I can understand that completely. It's that she's making these decisions on her own — and they affect both of us equally."

"But she's the one who has to do the work, baby. It's not fair to expect her to start her residency if she's not ready."

Hennessey gave her a perturbed look, then turned her face towards the window. Townsend wasn't sure what she'd done, but when she heard Hennessey's sniffling, she knew she'd hurt her.

Taking the next off-ramp, Townsend pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. "Sweetheart, how did I hurt you? You know I didn't mean to."

Not turning her head, Hennessey spoke quietly, her voice hoarse. "You didn't even acknowledge how much this throws my life into flux. I can't just put my career on hold, Townsend. I'm panicking here!"

Townsend laid an assuring hand on her friend's thigh, saying, "I'm sorry if you feel like I don't understand. Tell me more, honey. How does this affect you so much?"

The brunette turned to face Townsend, her eyes filled with tears. "It's not easy to get a teaching job at the university level. It's even harder when you're trying to get one in the same city as your partner's job. Now add the fact that she's applying for a match at one of three schools, and you see how uncertain things have been for me."

"I didn't know," Townsend said. "I'm sorry, baby, but you haven't been sharing these things with me. We talk about lots of things, but we don't usually talk about these kinds of details."

Hennessey nodded, saying, "I never feel like I have much to say about it, since I'm not doing anything except sending out resumes."

"How have you approached it?" Townsend asked.

"Well, Kate was planning on applying for a match with New York University, the University of Chicago, Mc Gaw Medical Center at Northwestern, Stanford and the Palmetto Health/University of South Carolina programs. So I've been applying to every university, college and junior college within an hour's drive of each of those hospitals."

"Ouch! That could be a hell of a commute!"

Hennessey's mouth puckered into a pout. "That's nothing. We decided that if I couldn't find anything, I was going to expand my territory and go two hours out. Then we thought that we'd get an apartment an hour away from both of our jobs. But now I'm screwed!"

"Why, honey? Why can't you just go ahead and find a job?"

Hennessey sighed and said, "Academia isn't like the business world. If I found a teaching job at the University of Chicago, I couldn't leave it after a year. And if Kate got a match with Stanford next year, I'd either have to leave or be a couple of thousand miles away from her. That's exactly what we're trying to avoid."

"That’s seriously fucked up."

Hennessey nodded briefly and tried to summon a smile, with little success. "I hope we can work it out. We always have, but I'm frightened."

"And angry," Townsend reminded her.

"And angry." Hennessey gave her friend a smile and said, "I'm gonna try to get rid of the angry part by the time I get home. When I’m angry, Kate clams up, and that makes it impossible to get anywhere."

"You know her well, Hennessey, and you love her an awful lot. That's what'll pull you through this."

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: January 20, 2001

To: Townsend Bartley myrealname@teaparty.com

Hi buddy,

Well, we haven’t resolved much, but the die has been cast. Kate is definitely taking a year off, and that leaves me in the lurch. We’ve talked and talked and haven’t been able to come up with a solution that we can both live with.

She's not even sure what she wants to do, which worries me more than I'm willing to tell her. She's never been so indecisive, and I can't seem to get her to tell me why she's so ambivalent about starting her residency. She just says that she's too stressed to continue right now.

Kate wants me to take a year off as well, but I can’t afford to. Her family is more than happy to support us, but I can’t live like that. I have to earn some money so that I can start helping to support my family — that’s a goal that I can’t put off any longer.

This is a very tough period for us, Townsend. I fervently hope that our love can pull us through. I’ve never had a moment’s doubt about Kate’s love for me, or mine for her, but we’re gonna need every bit of that love to help us now.

Yours,

H

From: Townsend Bartley <tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.edu> Sent: February 1, 2001

To: Hennessey Boudreaux hboudreaux@freemail.com

Dear Hennessey,

Please excuse my formality, but this is a business, rather than a personal letter.

As you know, I’ve been hired to create and manage a nine-month long writing program here at the camp. My duties will involve hiring instructors, creating a curriculum, advertising and securing publicity for the sessions, and making sure that the students are qualified to participate. Of course, I'll also be responsible for all of the finances involved and making sure that the compound is managed properly.

As the program director, I have full control over the budget, and I’ve decided that my first duty should be to hire an experienced administrator to help me structure the program so that it appeals to the widest possible audience.

Towards that end, I’d like to offer you the position of Academic Director for the writing program. The position would begin in June of this year, and our first session would take place in September. My goal is to have the program for the fall of 2000 in place by May of that year — so the position would, in essence, be a nine-month contract for subsequent years.

In addition to a generous base salary I can offer the additional benefits of medical and dental insurance for you and your spouse. You would also have the use of one of the staff bungalows at no charge. As a further incentive, you’ll receive a bonus of one percent of the tuition of every returning student — since the students’ positive impressions of the program will be largely due to your efforts.

Even though we are personal friends, our friendship is not the motivating factor for my offering you this job. I am doing so solely because I believe that you are the right person for this position. I understand that your future commitments may require you to relocate, but the first year of this project is the most important — and I want to make sure we start off on the right foot. I’m confident that you’re the person who can help me do this, Hennessey. I hope you’ll consider my offer, and respond at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

T

Townsend Bartley

Program Director

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: February 20, 2001

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Dear Ms. Bartley,

Thank you so much for your kind and unexpected offer. While the position sounds extremely appealing, I’m afraid I will not be able to make a decision until I’ve met with you in person to discuss the particulars.

I can arrange to be in Hilton Head this coming Saturday. Would that be a convenient day to meet? I can make myself available any time after twelve noon. Please let me know if you’ll be able to meet with me then or if we should schedule another time.

Sincerely,

H

Stretch Boudreaux

Almost a doctor of philosophy with an emphasis on the language of England

A tall, dark figure nearly filled the doorway of Townsend’s small office. Looking up, the blonde saw her friend, her long arms braced against the frame. "You the lady what’s hiring?" Hennessey asked.

"Come in here, stretch. Give me a hug." Townsend stood and wrapped her arms around her friend’s trim waist. "How ya doin’?"

"A lot better now that I have valid job offer. My panic has abated to unbridled anxiety."

"I'm glad to hear that," Townsend said. "You’re not the kind of girl who can just hope for the best when things are spiraling out of control."

"No, I’m not," Hennessey said, laughing. "I wish that some of Kate’s calm had rubbed off on me, but I can’t stop worrying about next year."

"You don’t have to worry if you accept my offer," Townsend said, sneaking in a quick tickle while Hennessey tried to slap her hand away.

"Well, that’s why I’m here. I want to get all of my worries out of the way."

"Okay, I’m game. Let me whisk your worries away."

Hennessey looked around and made a face. "Any chance we could go for a walk? I hate to be inside on such a nice day."

Townsend smiled and nodded. "It is a nice day. Let’s make some use of it. Have you had lunch?"

"Nope. I had breakfast and got on the bus. This is my first stop."

"C’mon, stretch; I’ve got an entertainment budget that I’m dying to drain."

Seated at a table by the window of a quiet restaurant, Hennessey began to play with the salt and pepper shakers, moving them around until Townsend laid her hand over them. "You seem nervous, babe. What’s up?"

Sighing, Hennessey said, "I want this job so badly that my teeth ache, but I have to make sure that you’re not just doing this because I need it. I’m very worried about my relationship, Townsend, and the stress of having to find a teaching job is just about to drive me over the edge. But no matter how desperate I am, I have to know you’re doing this for the right reasons."

"Hennessey, you know I love you and that I’d do anything for you," Townsend began, "but I wouldn’t waste MaryAnn’s money. I have too much respect for her and for you. I know I can handle the administrative and marketing aspects of this job. But I’m not well-versed enough in the writing process or in literature to put the programs together. I need someone who can do the whole thing — without much input from me. I could do a job search, but why should I when I know and trust a Ph.D. from one of the best schools in the country?"

"But I don’t have any experience at this type of thing."

"And I do? Hell, Hennessey, sometimes you’ve gotta jump off the bridge first, and learn how to swim on the way down. Look at the bright side. We’ll be able to come up with innovative ways of running this program — we won’t have any preconceived notions."

"Well, that’s true," Hennessey agreed. "And I’ve been to enough writing seminars to know what works and what doesn’t."

"Of course you have," Townsend said. "You’re perfect for this job, and it’s as close to your home as you’re gonna get. You can spend weekends with your grandparents and your daddy, helping out in the restaurant. Heck, this could give Kate a chance to get to know them. I’m sure she’ll like them if she gives them a chance."

"If I take it, Kate won’t be coming with me," the brunette said, staring at the table.

"What? Why?"

"Because she wants to go to France. She wants to take a course at the Psychoanalytic Institute to become a psychoanalyst. She thinks it would be a good adjunct to her psychiatric training."

"But why France? How will that help her here?"

"The U.S. recognizes analysts trained in other programs. That’s not a problem. Besides, she loves France, and she thinks it would be a good place for us to get closer."

"But you won't be with her if you take this job," Townsend said, cocking her head while she tried to understand.

"I know that. I thought that Kate might change her mind when I told her about this job, but she seems intent on going through with her plans, no matter what I do."

"That doesn’t sound like a very good sign, baby," Townsend said, stating the obvious.

Hennessey looked up at her friend, her eyes revealing her confusion. "I know that. Kate seems so restless and irritable. She’s been under a tremendous amount of pressure, and I think she just wants to chuck it all and run away to France for a while. Honestly, Townsend, I don’t think she has any interest in being an analyst; I think it’s just an excuse so she won't look so wishy-washy about not starting her residency."

"Doesn’t she want to be a doctor?"

"Oh, yeah, she’s still very much in love with medicine, but … hell, I don't know! I know she wants to be a doctor, but I'm absolutely in the dark about why she doesn't want to continue right now. Maybe she's being honest, and she is just tired. God knows I am, and I haven't worked half as hard as she has."

"Are you sure she wants to be a psychiatrist? Maybe that's the problem."

Giving her an unhappy look, Hennessey said, "I wish I didn't agree with you, but I do. I think she wants to be a surgeon. That’s her personality, Townsend. She’s a work hard, play hard kind of girl. She loves the pressure, the life and death aspect of surgery. When she was on her surgical rotation, she was as happy as I’ve ever seen her. She was so alive. She couldn’t wait to go to work in the morning."

"Oh, Hennessey." Townsend reached across the table and covered her friend’s hand. "I know that’s not the kind of job you want for her."

"No, it’s not. But I’d never stand in the way if that’s what she wanted. We’d have to find other ways to achieve our goals."

"What about a family?" Townsend asked.

"We could always adopt an older child after we’re both settled in our careers. I’d love to have a baby — but it’s not a life goal for me. I wouldn’t have a baby if Kate wasn’t able to share the responsibilities, and as a surgeon, she wouldn’t be a reliable helpmate."

"Have you told her that?"

"Of course I have," Hennessey said, giving her an annoyed look, "but she's made the decision to be a psychiatrist, and she's determined to see it through." She clicked the salt and pepper shakers together and said, "I don't know if she's doing this for me or herself, but I wish I could get it through her head that I'll only be happy if she's happy."

Townsend looked at her friend for a long time, then said, "You love her an awful lot, don’t you?"

"Yeah, I do. I’d sacrifice almost anything for her, Townsend, and I’m trusting that she’ll do the same for me."

"How does she feel about your taking this job?"

"Not good. Not good at all. She wants me to go to Paris with her, and she’s unable to understand why I can’t. We’re going through a very tough time right now, and part of me thinks that a separation could help us. It might let us re-dedicate ourselves to each other."

"It could also help you to break up," Townsend said. "I hope you’ve thought that through, baby."

"I have. But I have to work, Townsend. I can’t get a work permit to work in France, and Kate will only get a small stipend. Her parents can easily afford to support us, but that's not how I want to live my life. I've worked hard to get this degree, and I want to use it. I need to start earning some money and helping my grandparents. Jesus!" She dropped her head and ran her hands through her hair. "Do you have any idea how bad the commercial catch was this year? With all of the new golf courses being built on formerly vacant land, there's been a massive runoff of fertilizer. It's screwed up the ecosystem of the fishing waters something terrible!"

"It'll be okay," Townsend said, trying to soothe her.

Hennessey looked at her and shook her head. "No, it won’t. I have to start helping out. I'd love to be able to hang around in France for a year, but I don't come from that kind of family. I have to work! If Kate can’t come to understand that …"

"Okay." Townsend patted her hand and let out a sigh. "Let’s get our business taken care of, shall we?" She took out a contract and handed it to her friend. "You can have a lawyer look this over if you want."

Hennessey took a pen from her notepad and signed the bottom of the three-page document without even bothering to read it. "You’d never ask me to sign something that wasn’t in my best interests. I trust you completely, Townsend. And I’m more grateful to you than I will ever be able to express."

"Knock it off, stretch. I'm not doing you any favors. You're the right woman for this job. Period."

Townsend pushed on the partially open door and called out, "Anybody need some help unpacking?"

"Come on in!" Hennessey said.

Walking inside, the smaller woman smiled while looking around the bungalow. "You should be in the military, stretch. You could move out of a place in fifteen minutes."

"I like to travel light," Hennessey said, crossing the room to wrap her friend in a hug. "I had a lot of books, but I thought long and hard and decided to sell the ones I could and donate the rest to the library. I’m gonna wait until we own a home to start amassing my personal library."

"I’ll buy you a leather-bound collection of the works of Shakespeare as a housewarming present." Townsend pulled back from Hennessey’s loose embrace and said, "I like that you said ‘we.’ I hope that means that you and Kate are back on solid ground."

Hennessey gave her a curious look. "You’re perceptive about people. What did you think when you were in Durham for graduation?"

"Besides that I’d never seen anyone look cuter in a cap and gown?"

"Yeah," Hennessey said, smiling warmly, "besides that."

"I thought that you and Kate seemed very happy together. I sat next to her at your graduation, and she was smiling so brightly when they announced your name that I’m surprised she didn’t dislocate her jaw. She had tears rolling down her cheeks, Hennessey, and you can’t fake that kind of joy. She looked like a woman who loves you with all her heart."

Blushing slightly as a smile lit up her face, Hennessey nodded. "She does. I feel the same about her."

"Really?" Townsend teased. "If you’d introduced her as Dr. Brill one more time, I was going to strangle you!"

"Hey, I’m proud of her," Hennessey said.

"Proud is one thing," Townsend said. "You were gloating, but I’m very happy that things are going better for you guys."

"They are," Hennessey agreed. "As she neared graduation, she let go of a lot of her stress, and it got easier to work things out. When I took her to the airport yesterday, I felt better about us than I have in months. God, it was hard to let her go."

"It’ll be all right, baby. She’ll come back to you in a year, and you two can finally start your lives together. I promise it will all work out."

"God, I hope so," Hennessey said. "I love her so much."

"Hey, buddy," Townsend said, early the next morning when she arrived at Hennessey’s bungalow. "Wanna go house shopping with me today?"

"House shopping? Really?"

"Yeah. I’ve decided to take the plunge. I was a little worried about sinking a lot of money into a house, but I think I can do as well in real estate as I could on another type of long term investment."

"Damn, sometimes I think you and Kate should be together. You two have much more in common than she and I do."

"Not my type," Townsend said, smiling rakishly. "I prefer lanky brunettes. Now, will you go with me?"

"Sure. Let me dress up a little more. I don’t want you to look like you hang out with the po’ folks."

"You class up any place you enter, Hennessey Boudreaux. Now, let’s grab a bite to eat and take off."

On the way to the real estate agent’s office, Townsend gave her friend a quick overview of her plans. "Now remember, the agent is here to show me houses, but she's also here to guide me towards buying a house that she's the listing agent for. She makes more money that way," she added, after seeing Hennessey's blank look. "She'll try to make us think she's only interested in my needs, but that's bull. She's a salesperson just like every other salesperson. She wants me to find something I like, but her main goal is to get me to buy something — as soon as possible."

"I thought that real estate agents worked for you," Hennessey said.

"They do. But they're also working for themselves. Now, if I let her know I'm interested in something, she'll really put the pressure on me. I don't want that," Townsend said. "I want to play it cool — icy cool, buddy, and I want you to play along with me."

"I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but I'll try," Hennessey promised.

They looked at so many houses that they were both a little glassy eyed by mid-afternoon. But Townsend had brought her digital camera, and Hennessey took a copious number of pictures while Townsend made notes on every house with her PDA. They pulled into yet another driveway, but this time, both young women shared a look when they reached the house. The look silently said, "This one has possibilities."

The house did indeed have possibilities, and Townsend felt her heart begin to beat a little faster as she got out of the car. Her first impression was that they were in a nice, older, established part of Beaufort rather than Hilton Head. The house was a frame one — a weathered gray cedar. Three gables stretched across the second floor, and the roofline sloped gracefully, but the thing that caught and held Townsend’s attention was the wide, covered porch, just begging for a warm night and a swing.

She cast a look at Hennessey and saw the excitement in her friend’s eyes. Leaning over, Townsend said, "Take as many pictures as you can manage, and don’t let the agent see you!"

The agent, Gloria, was babbling away, listing the amenities of the home. Townsend followed her inside, while Hennessey took pictures of the outside. "I don’t know," Townsend said, looking as bored as she could manage. "It’s pretty traditional, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it is, but many people love this ‘Low Country’ style. You’ll see it all over South Carolina."

"That’s true," Townsend agreed, "but I didn’t see another example of this style anywhere in the best parts of the island. Most of those homes are much more contemporary. Maybe it's because this house isn't part of a development." She added, "Actually, I think this is the only house I've seen that isn't part of a development. It must be harder to sell an older house that isn't connected to a golf or tennis facility." Townsend was surreptitiously looking around the interior, and she said, "Let’s take a quick look upstairs. No sense in wasting a trip."

A few minutes later, she and Gloria walked outside, where they found Hennessey sitting on the porch railing. "This place reminds me of my home," the brunette said.

"Oh, where do you live?" Gloria asked, smiling brightly.

"On the wrong side of Beaufort," Hennessey informed her. "My daddy’s a shrimper, and we live down by the docks."

Gloria’s smile faded, and she started to walk towards the car. Hennessey asked, "Y’all don’t mind if I go in, do you? I love houses like this."

"No, go ahead, Hennessey. I think we’re done for the day, don’t you, Gloria?"

"I’ve shown you everything I have in your price range," the woman said, dejection in her voice.

"We’ve seen so many properties today — I’d like to look over the pictures we took and see if we liked anything well enough to take a second look."

"All right," Gloria said. She looked at her watch and said, "Should you

go check on your friend?"

"No, she’ll be along soon. She’s been away from Beaufort for a while, and she misses the old place. Let her reminisce."

As soon as the pair got out of the car, they walked casually into Townsend’s bungalow before the blonde let out a whoop. "I’m buying that house!" she crowed.

"Wasn’t it cool?" Hennessey asked, as excited as her friend.

"I absolutely loved it," Townsend said. "I could just picture sitting out there in the evening, having a glass of lemonade while I watched the sunset."

"Oh, me too," Hennessey sighed. "That’s exactly the kind of house I’d love to have one day."

Giving her a long look, Townsend said, "You know, there’s no reason that you couldn’t move in with me. The house has three bedrooms and two full baths. We’d both have our privacy."

Hennessey turned to her friend. "As much as I’d love to, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Kate trusts me, Townsend, but moving in with you wouldn’t make her feel very secure."

Nodding, Townsend said, "I wasn’t thinking. I … I’m sorry I brought it up."

"Hey," Hennessey put a hand on her friend’s arm, "I appreciate the offer; I really do. And I’ll be at your house so often, you’ll want to kick me out. But living with you isn’t the best thing for my relationship, Townsend, and I always have to put that first."

Townsend absently patted her friend's arm, her brow furrowed in thought. "I know you do. Sometimes I forget how other people perceive us, though. Kate must feel awkward at best about having you here."

Shrugging, Hennessey said, "This wouldn't have been her first choice, but not specifically because of you. She’d prefer that we both pretty much cut off contact with our ex-lovers. She thinks maintaining a close relationship with an ex creates a tension that we don’t need."

"And just how many ex-lovers do you have?"

Hennessey gave her a sheepish look and said, "Well, there’s you …"

"Uh-huh. But this isn’t about me, right?"

"Maybe just a little bit," Hennessey admitted.

"Are you sure it’s a good idea to be here, Hennessey? I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but …"

"I have to live my life by my own moral code, Townsend. There are things that I want that Kate isn’t able to do, and things she wants that I’m unable to do. This is one area where we’ve agreed to disagree."

"She was very cordial to me at your graduation."

"She likes you, Townsend. That’s not the problem. Kate knows how much you mean to me, and she’s a little worried about having us together while she’s in Europe. I’m not worried in the least, but I think it’s harder for the person who leaves."

"Hennessey, I’ve lied to you many times, but not since I’ve been sober. I swear to you that I would never, ever do anything to try to create tension between you and Kate. I see how happy she makes you."

"I know that. I wouldn’t have accepted the job if I’d thought you were anything less than supportive of us. It’s just that Kate doesn’t know you like I do. She’s never had a close friendship with someone she love — or, in my case, loves."

"Yeah, that loves part would probably bother me, too."

Hennessey nodded, nibbling at her lower lip for a moment. "I've never told her I'm still in love with you, but she's too astute not to sense it."

"I've wondered if you'd ever told her," Townsend said. "I don't think I would have."

Hennessey chuckled. "There are some things that you just don't want to rub in. I can't help loving you, but I can stop myself from ever betraying Kate. That's what counts."

"But Kate would worry if she knew, right?"

"Yeah, I think so, but I can’t give in to her fears. She has to know me well enough to trust me. If I can trust her all the way over in Paris, she can trust me with my best friend."

"She can definitely trust you with your best friend," Townsend said, giving the taller woman a hearty poke.

They were so busy getting the office set up that both women were amazed when they realized that the next day was the 4th of July. "I don’t know where the time has gone," Hennessey said, staring at the calendar on her desk.

Townsend tossed a plastic paper clip at her friend. Their desks were arranged in an "L" in the large room, and the blonde delighted in launching the clips, particularly enjoying it when one of them became tangled in Hennessey's long, thick hair. "We’ve been working like dogs, Boudreaux. Neither one of us has had a day off since we started."

"I guess that’s true," Hennessey mused. "It’s been just what I needed, though. I only have time to miss Kate when I’m lying in bed, and I’m always so tired that I still fall asleep almost immediately."

"I’m glad that you’re not pining away for her," Townsend said. "To be honest, you seem happier than I thought you’d be."

Hennessey quirked a grin. "I am happy. This is the work I think I was meant to do, Townsend. It’s caught me by surprise how much I love it."

With a puzzled expression Townsend said, "I’m glad … obviously I’m glad, but I’m surprised. I thought that teaching was your thing."

She stretched her arms over her head and let her head roll back to get some of the tension out of her muscles. "You know, I taught for three years at Duke, and I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I’d enjoyed teaching here at the camp. The motivation of the students is very different, and that makes a huge difference for me. I like to teach people who want to learn — people who have a thirst for the subject. I’d probably feel different if I were teaching grad students, but at the undergraduate level, most of the people are just looking for a grade. It was rare to find a few students who had any fire about them."

"I didn’t realize that," Townsend said. "It makes perfect sense, but I’d never thought about it in that way."

"Yeah, it didn't become clear to me until I was here. I would have been so sick of teaching undergraduates for years and years as I worked my way up the academic ladder."

"Then I'm glad you don't have to do it," Townsend said.

Hennessey had warmed to her subject, and Townsend listened as the larger woman leaned back even further in her chair and continued to talk. "I love having authority here," she said. "I wouldn’t have had this kind of autonomy until I was a department head in a university. And that would take a minimum of fifteen years — or it might never happen. Universities are so filled with petty politics that I was already ready for a break from all that. And this has been the perfect respite for me."

"It’s made my life easier, too. I would have been lost without your help."

"It’s worked out for both of us," Hennessey agreed. "And even though I think you’re paying me too much, I’m not about to argue. I was able to pay for some repairs that Daddy’s boat has needed for five years, and this coming weekend, we’re gonna do some repairs to the dock."

"Would you like some help?"

Hennessey smiled at the blonde. "Sure, but it’s not gonna be fun. A lot of the damage is under the dock. We need to scrape off all of the crud and replace a lot of the boards."

"I’ll do what I can," Townsend offered. "I don’t mind being under a dock."

"You’re a trooper," Hennessey said, grinning. "I’d love to have you."

"What about tomorrow? Do you have plans?"

"No, since I didn’t know it was a holiday. I guess I could go home, but that seems like a long drive for one day."

Townsend brightened. "Let’s have a barbeque!"

"Sounds good to me. I’ll bring the fireworks."

"Fireworks?!? You can have fireworks here?"

"You betcha," Hennessey said, grinning. "One more benefit of living in South Carolina."

"You'll lose an eye! We’ll be thumbless!" Townsend cried.

"I won't get anything lethal," Hennessey said, laughing at her friend's alarm. "Just some firecrackers and sparklers and stuff. Don't be a baby!"

"I don't know," Townsend said, finally smiling. "I've never even seen firecrackers. They're illegal in Massachusetts."

"Too many Puritans," Hennessey decided. "South Carolinians love to live dangerously."

"Well, when in South Carolina …"

"Townsend Bartley, you have turned into a fine cook," Hennessey said late the next afternoon. "I’ve never had a hamburger with blue cheese cooked right inside, and it was scrumptious!"

"The Boston baked beans were pretty darned good, too, weren’t they?" the blonde asked, her nose wrinkled up.

"They were superb. Everything was delicious, Townsend. Truly delicious."

"I’m glad you enjoyed it," Townsend said. "Now, we should go for a long walk on the beach before people start shooting at us with cherry bombs."

"Darned good idea." The pair went through the house, out the front door and started to walk, reaching the ocean in a matter of minutes.

"Hey, I was wondering if you have a place in the curriculum for my creative writing teacher from Boston," Townsend asked. "She was very good, and she might like a brief change of scenery. She’s an expert at helping students break through their emotional barriers to unleash their creativity."

"Sure. I’m sure I could use her. You wouldn’t have an ulterior motive, would you, Ms. Bartley? As I recall, you were going to ask her out on a date."

"Yeeeeeesss," Townsend said. "I haven’t met anyone down here, so I thought I’d start importing women. If this doesn’t work out, I’m gonna start shopping on the Internet. I hear that the Chechen's are very eager to move to the U.S."

Hennessey gave her a hip bump and chided her, "Unless a woman comes to your door looking for love, you’re not gonna hook up. You’re either at work or with me. Actually, you’re always with me!"

"I guess that’s true," she said. "I just hate the thought of looking for dates."

"Where would you go?" Hennessey asked.

"A lesbian bar, I guess. I don’t really know."

"Is that wise, Townsend? I mean … You know what I mean."

Giving her friend a perturbed look, Townsend said, "I think I could be in a bar and not leap the counter to drain all the bottles."

Hennessey gripped her arm and pulled her to a stop. "That’s not at all what I meant, Townsend. I only meant that you don’t always meet the crème de la crème at a bar. I think you’d do better to seek out some social groups. I know," she said, a note of excitement in her voice, "why don’t we arrange a short evening seminar on lesbian fiction? We could discuss some current works, and all of the participants would probably be lesbians. We could target the Hilton Head area — fill the class with locals. It wouldn’t have to be an expensive seminar — just a fun thing for the townies. And it would give me a chance to teach this summer. I really do miss it," she admitted.

She was beaming a smile, and Townsend once again found herself mirroring it. "Good idea, stretch. The woman who’s never had to search for a girlfriend comes up with a masterful idea. As usual, you amaze me."

A few hours later, they were sitting on the porch swing, rocking slowly while they watched the occasional bottle rocket streak towards the ocean. "Not much of a party," Townsend mused. "I’m used to the Boston Pops playing a concert and a multi-million dollar fireworks show."

"I'll have you know that our fireworks cost fifteen whole dollars," Hennessey said, earning a pinch. "But be serious, babe; do you miss Boston at all?"

"No, not really. I guess I should, since my family has lived there since the 1600’s — but I don’t think about it very often. Boston is just another big city to me. I mean, it has a lot of history, but when you live in a place like that you don’t take advantage of it very often. It’s not like … here," she said. "South Carolina gives me a real feeling of place. It’s much more unique than Boston is, for one thing. Boston’s no different than Chicago or New York or Philadelphia. It might have been at one time, but now it’s just mini-malls, fast food and chain stores. There’s something so damned homey about South Carolina, Hennessey. It gets under your skin."

Hennessey didn’t say a word. She reached over and grasped her friend’s hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it tenderly.

Townsend could feel a little moisture on her lips, and she knew, without looking, that Hennessey was crying silently. The blonde linked her fingers with her friend’s and rested their joined hands in her lap, settling down to watch the tiny, sweet, extemporaneous fireworks show.

On the first night of the "New Trends in Lesbian Fiction" class, Hennessey looked out at the twenty-five eager faces and spared a slight wink for her friend, seated in the back row. Townsend assessed her classmates carefully, seeing a number of women she wouldn’t mind getting a phone number from. I sure hope Hennessey remembers to mention that we can continue the discussion in the main bungalow after class. That’s my best chance of getting to know some of these women. And I’m going to get to know some of these women!

Hennessey was grinning like the Cheshire cat when Townsend walked into their shared office the next morning. "So…?"

"So what?" Townsend asked, putting down her bag and trying to look uninterested.

"I saw you leave the bungalow with that cute brunette last night. How’d it go?"

"Brunette? Let’s see … did I leave with a cute brunette …" Townsend tapped her chin with her forefinger and said, "I guess I did spend a little time with a cute brunette last night. And I’d say it went … darned well."

"So, are you gonna see her again?"

"Yep. We’re going on a little sail tonight. She has a boat that she races, and if it’s calm enough, we’re gonna take it out and have a little dinner."

"Well, well," Hennessey said, looking very pleased, "don’t you work fast?"

"Hey, I’m not getting any younger. I check women for liquor on their breath and any ostentatious religious jewelry, then it's time for me to hook up."

"Oh, I think you’ve got a few good years left. But I would like for you to find someone to love. You deserve it."

Townsend gave her a racy smile. "If I can't find someone to love, maybe I can find someone to love me — at least for a night."

Part 17

"Hey, Townsend? I’ve been thinking about going to Paris to see Kate over Christmas. How do you feel about my taking a little time off?"

"I pay you for the job you do, stretch, not the hours you put in, so you can take as much time as you want. We’ve got the schedule set for the winter and spring terms. We just have to have the fall term ready by June, and we’re golden."

Giving her a huge smile, Hennessey said, "We are cruisin’, aren’t we? I knew we'd do well, but I underestimated the demand for this kind of program."

"We’re doing just great, Hennessey, and you deserve a nice, long break. I mean it when I say that you can take as long as you’d like."

"What are your plans for Christmas? Will you go to Boston?"

"Yeah, I think I will. Now that I’ve struck out with everyone in the writing class, I’m gonna have to expand my net."

"Hey, you didn’t strike out. You dated six women from that class. That’s not called striking out, babe; that’s called being picky."

"Yeah, I am picky. Maybe too picky. I’m trying to find the perfect woman, but maybe I should just try to find an acceptable woman."

"Well, I guess that depends on what your goal is. If you’re just looking for someone to spend some time with, you probably should lower your expectations."

"No, that’s not really what I’m looking for," Townsend admitted. "I have plenty to keep me busy, including writing in the evenings. That’s why I’m picky. I’d rather write than spend an evening with someone who’s merely acceptable." Townsend looked down at her outstretched hands, a puzzled expression on her face. "Was that me talking?"

Hennessey laughed and said, "Yep. I’m almost sure of it."

"Boy, I must really like it here," Townsend said.

"I know I do," Hennessey said. "When I’m in Paris, I’m going to do my best to sell Kate on moving here when she comes back. I could be happy here for the rest of my career. As long as you’re the director, that is."

"Aw, you sweet talker. I’d love nothing better, Hennessey. As long as I can find a woman of my own, of course. There’s no way I’m gonna sit around for the next forty years, watching you and Kate smooch."

"We don’t smooch in public," Hennessey said. "Much."

Hennessey looked up from her desk and slowly rocked in her chair, taking in her friend from head to toe. "I know that global warming is a reality, but there’s no way you got that tan in Boston."

"Hi, stretch," Townsend said, placing a kiss on Hennessey’s cheek. "No, we didn’t stay in Boston. A couple of days after Christmas, we went to Bermuda. It was nice. Gave me just long enough to reconnect with my parents, but not long enough to be sick of them." She dropped her bag and sat down, then asked, "How was your trip? You look wonderful, so it must have gone well."

"It was great. Really great. Having a month together was just what we needed. At the risk of giving you too much information, I have to tell you that there’s nothing better than having a beautiful woman make love to you while whispering in your ear in French."

Townsend shot a rubber band at her friend, scoring a direct hit. "Rub it in, Boudreaux. You’re making love in Paris, while I’m sitting on the beach with my parents."

"But you had a good time, didn’t you?"

"Yeah, I did. And, as long as we’re being totally honest, I’m happy to report that my celibacy streak was finally broken."

"Really? Spill it! I want details!"

Townsend laughed, shaking her head. "You know, we’ve made a lot of progress in the last few years. I never would have thought that we could have this kind of conversation. I’m so happy that we can."

"I am, too," Hennessey said. "I really am. Now tell me everything before I beat it out of you."

"Okay." Townsend tucked a leg up under herself, her usual story-telling pose. "I’d been home about two days, and I decided to give my old creative writing teacher, Nicole, a call. Much to my surprise, she was very happy to hear from me."

"Not to my surprise," Hennessey said, grinning happily.

"Yeah, well, we got together for dinner that night and really hit it off. We went back to her apartment, and when I left, I plucked up my nerve and kissed her goodbye."

"Good for you!" Hennessey enthused.

"Yeah, I was pretty proud of myself. Anyway, she didn’t mind a bit, and after we stood in the doorway necking for a while, I finally pulled myself away and told her I’d call her the next day."

Hennessey gave her a puzzled look and asked, "Why’d you stop?"

"It was our first date, Hennessey! I have to get to know a woman before I get too involved."

"That is so nice to hear. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you treat yourself and your body with respect."

Townsend blushed as she nodded and cleared her throat. "I, uhm … I’ve learned from my mistakes. I only allow people I respect to touch me." She looked down at her hands and said in a faint whisper, "I deserve that."

"You sure as hell do. No one deserves that more than you do, Townsend."

Nodding briefly, Townsend controlled the emotion that threatened to spill out. "So, we went out the next afternoon and talked about our situations. She’s happy in Boston, but she wouldn’t mind spending six weeks or so down here. Do you think you can squeeze her into the spring semester?"

"No problem. We’re still short three instructors. I’m sure she’ll be able to handle one of the seminars — if she’s as good as you say she is." Hennessey blinked innocently and asked, "She is good, isn’t she?"

"Where’s the ingenuous little Hennessey that I used to know?" Townsend asked, chuckling.

"I left my innocence in Paris," the tall woman said dismissively. "If I didn't know better, I'd think Kate had been taking Viagra. Now, give me some details about Nicole!"

"Okay, okay. We spent about ten days getting to know each other. And I don’t mean biblically," she added, narrowing her eyes. "I had no interest in just jumping into the sack. We kissed — a lot, but that was about it."

"Wow. You’ve become a paragon of virtue!"

"I’m gonna have to be a paragon of virtue for the next twenty years to make up for my past vices."

"You don’t have to make up for anything, Townsend. You’re a wonderful woman, and I hope that Nicole got to find that out."

"I think she did. When my folks and I left for Bermuda, I took my laptop with me, and we spent a couple of hours chatting online each night. I got to know her better that way, to be honest. We didn’t have to worry about the physical or sexual signals we were sending out. It was … nice."

"It sounds nice," Hennessey agreed.

"We were in Bermuda for a week, and when I got home, I went to her apartment for dinner. We had a great time. Just great. After dinner, she put on some nice, romantic music and she asked me to dance."

"Cool! That sounds so sweet!"

"It was. We danced for a long time, and it felt so nice to move with her. Before long, we started kissing, and soon she was slowly — very slowly — unbuttoning my blouse."

"Whew! Smooth!"

Laughing wryly, Townsend agreed. "She was smooth. She did it so effortlessly that I hardly noticed. But when she started to pull my blouse from my slacks — she caught my attention."

"I’d think!"

"I still don’t know how she did it, but she managed to get me undressed while we were still dancing. Then I did the same to her. It was — by far — the sexiest seduction I’ve ever been part of."

Hennessey grabbed for a pad and pen. "I’m taking notes! This could come in very handy. Kate has so many more moves than I do."

"I’ll spare you the gory details, but we had a very, very nice evening. The next week wasn’t too bad, either," she added, laughing. "I went home, packed a bag, said goodbye to my parents and went right back to Nicole’s house. We made love until the wee, small hours, slept and made love throughout the day. Before I knew it, a week had passed — I barely caught the last plane out last night."

"Damn! You must be exhausted!"

"No. It’ll probably hit me tonight, though."

"So — where did you two leave things?"

"We’re gonna see how she likes our being together when she comes down here this spring. If it works out, she’ll consider moving. But that’s a long way off. It just felt nice to be held and caressed again. If that’s all that comes of this, I’ll be happy. She made me feel like a sexual being again, and it’s been a while since that’s happened."

"I’m so happy for you, T. Really, really happy." She let out a short laugh and added, "Kate will be, too."

As soon as she said it, Hennessey wished she could take the words back, but Townsend saw her discomfort and asked, "Ya wanna elaborate?"

"No." Hennessey looked down at her desk, but Townsend got up and sat on the edge of the piece.

"Come on, you can’t say something like that and expect me to blow it off. Give."

"Okay." Letting out a sigh, Hennessey said, "One of Kate’s worries is that you’re not trying to find someone. She… she thinks you might be waiting…"

"For you," Townsend finished for her.

"Yeah. For me."

Looking directly into her eyes, Townsend asked, "Have you told her that I don't have those feelings for you any longer, Hennessey?"

Returning her gaze, Hennessey said, "Yes, but not in any detail. I don't want to get into a big discussion about it, to be honest. I'm afraid that Kate will ask me how I feel about you, and I don't want to have that talk."

Townsend leaned over and kissed her friend on the head. "You’re my very best friend, sweetie. Not that that’s a small role, mind you; it’s just limited to platonic affection."

"I’ve been telling Kate that for years, but she thinks you’re too cute to be single unless you want to be."

"I’m certainly not going to argue with that," Townsend said. She shifted her weight and asked, "How about you? Are you over me?"

"No." She smiled sweetly and added, "I’ll never be over you, Townsend. I think I'll always be in love with you, but Kate owns my body and my soul. I’d never dream of being unfaithful to her. There’s nothing in this world that could entice me to betray her."

"That’s why we both love you, Hennessey. We both know that."

"We’re cooking out tonight, Hennessey. Wanna come over?"

"Nah. I’ve got a few things to clean up here, and I usually call Kate on Monday night. You and Nicole go ahead and have fun."

"I wouldn’t call it fun," Townsend said. "Nicole’s a slave driver!" She picked up her briefcase and walked over to Hennessey’s desk, perching on the edge of it.

"Is she still working on your first chapter?"

"Yeah. She’s giving me some excellent feedback, but she wants me to work for at least three hours a night. She says I don’t have nearly enough discipline."

Hennessey leaned back in her chair and asked, "How does it feel to have someone you’re close to look at your work?"

"It feels okay with her. You’re not … jealous that I’ve never let you see it, are you?"

"Jealous?" The dark-haired woman thought about the question for a moment. "Just a little. Even though I think I understand — it makes me a little jealous that you trust her more than you do me."

Running her fingers through Hennessey’s glossy hair, Townsend lifted her chin and said, "Nothing could be further from the truth, but you’re in every chapter, babe. I’m very insecure about showing this to you."

"I understand… kinda."

Townsend smiled at her friend and said, "I’ll let you read it when I’m finished. I’m just afraid of hearing your feedback while I’m still writing. Besides, I want to make sure I keep you as the villain of the piece." She ruffled Hennessey’s hair and placed a kiss on it. "Well, I’m off to find my woman and take her home. Have a good night, and say hi to Kate for me."

"Will do. Feel free to bring in leftovers tomorrow."

"Always looking for a meal. That’s my girl."

"It’s the last free meal I’ll get for a while, and I want to remember you during the summer. You know it’s just your cooking that keeps me interested."

"Yeah. Right. I have a lot of talents, buddy, but cooking isn’t one of them. All I can do well is barbeque, and you know it."

Hennessey grasped one of her friend’s hands and gave the back of it a kiss. "I’m gonna miss you this summer."

"I’ll miss you, too. I’m a little jealous of your getting to spend another summer in Paris while I hang out here."

"I’m really looking forward to it," Hennessey said. "Paris has always had a lot of magic for us. And depending on where we end up next year, we might need some extra magic to get through it."

"When does Kate find out where she’ll be?"

"Two days from now. I’m really on pins and needles."

"You are?" Townsend laughed. "I’m the one who should be on pins and needles! If you don’t wind up in South Carolina, I’m gonna have to replace you."

Hennessey tweaked her friend’s nose. "Yeah, yeah. It’s all about you, isn’t it?"

"Always has been, always will be. Now, promise that you’ll write to me as soon as you find out, okay?"

"Will do. Now get out of here and go impress your woman with your culinary skills."

Townsend gave her a smirk and jumped to her feet. "If that’s all I have to impress her with, I might as well throw in the towel right now." She slapped her butt and said, "I'm sittin' on my best assets."

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com> Sent: June 01, 2002

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Whoopee!

Kate got accepted into the residency program at Palmetto Health in Charleston! I’m more excited about it than she is <s>, but I know that she’ll come to love South Carolina once she gives it a chance. We’ll be back in the States in six weeks, and I’ll spend the rest of the summer doing everything I can to make the transition as smooth as possible for her.

Charleston's over two hours from Hilton Head, so we have some negotiating to do over where we'll live. I wish we could live in the bungalow, just so we don't have to pay rent, but I can't have my sweetheart driving that far every day. We’ll just have to see how it goes, but no matter what, I'll be back at work in September.

I’m happier about this than you can imagine, Townsend, and I can’t wait to get home and start building a life with Kate in the most beautiful place on earth.

Higher than le tour Eiffel,

H

Part 18

Townsend extricated herself from Nicole’s embrace, patting her lover gently as she reached for the ringing phone. "H’lo?"

"Hi, it’s me," Hennessey said. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Wha … oh, uhm … we were just … napping," she said, referring to the near-coma she and Nicole had worked themselves into that afternoon. "Let me go into the living room." She blinked repeatedly, trying to get her bearings. "Are you back?"

"Yeah, I'm in my bungalow."

"Great! I'm so excited to have you back home! But let me call you in a second, okay? I have to pee."

"All right. I’ll be here." Without another word, Hennessey hung up.

It took a few minutes for Townsend’s head to clear, and by the time she reached the phone in the living room, her heart was beating heavily. Speed dialing, she waited for Hennessey to answer, then asked sharply, "What’s wrong?"

With a very short grunt meant as a laugh, Hennessey asked, "How do you know something’s wrong?"

"Because I know you, stretch. Something’s wrong — very wrong."

"I guess I can’t argue with that," the brunette admitted. "Something is wrong. Things aren’t working out like I thought they would. Kate’s … Kate’s not going to Charleston. As a matter of fact, she’s not going anywhere."

"What?!"

"That’s exactly what I said when she told me," Hennessey said with a wry laugh. "I don’t even know why I’m laughing. It’s not funny in the least."

"Hennessey, tell me what’s going on!"

"I’m not really sure," Hennessey answered. "All I know is that Kate has decided that she can’t bear to be a psychiatrist."

"What?!"

"This conversation is going very much like the one Kate and I had. I screamed ‘What?’ every couple of seconds when she told me, too."

"Well, Jesus, Hennessey, she can't jerk you around like this!"

There was a brief silence, then Hennessey said, "I know you're on my side, but try to have some sympathy for Kate. This is really hard for her."

"I'm sorry," Townsend said immediately. "I shouldn't stick my nose in."

"No, that's not a problem. I'm … just frustrated and short tempered."

"Is Kate still gonna be a doctor?"

"Yeah. At least I think she is. She just knows that she can’t be a psychiatrist. She says that she’s given it a genuine try, but that she hated it."

"Did you know this?"

"No, not really. I mean, I knew that psychiatry wasn't her first choice, but I didn't know she hated it. I’m learning that Kate keeps things to herself until she’s completely made up her mind. It pisses me off, but I don’t think I can change her."

"So what will you do?"

"Well, she can’t apply for another residency until next year, so we’re going to live here in Hilton Head until she makes another attempt. I think she’s going to look like a lunatic by the time she finally settles on a discipline, but I guess that’s just something we’re gonna have to live with."

"Oh, Hennessey, I’m so sorry this is working out so poorly for you."

"Well, it’s not so bad. At least I’m where I want to be and doing what I want to do. I guess I just have to put my life on hold for another year, hoping that Palmetto will take another chance on Kate after she turned them down once."

"That truly sucks, Hennessey. I’m so sorry she’s having so much trouble making up her mind."

"Me, too. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Now tell me how your summer’s going. I wanna hear some good news, buddy."

"I think things are going well. I like Nicole a lot, and I think she cares for me as much as I do her."

"Do you think she’s ready to move here?"

"No, she’s not ready for that yet. She wants to spend some time getting to know the area and deciding if there are enough cultural opportunities for her to be happy here."

"Couldn’t she have done some of that in the last six weeks?"

Townsend laughed. "She could have if I’d let her leave the house. It’s been a long time, stretch. A looooong time."

Hennessey joined her friend’s laughter, adding, "I’m glad that she makes you want to stay home, buddy."

"Oh, we stay home, all right. I’ve lost ten pounds in six weeks! We rarely eat dinner, and —"

"Too much information," Hennessey interjected. "You lovebirds just continue to remain horizontal. Kate and I are going to spend the rest of the summer exploring South Carolina. As long as we’re both not working, this is the perfect opportunity for me to sell her on my state. As a matter of fact, we’re gonna go to Beaufort tomorrow to spend a few days with my family. I’m gonna try to keep the visits short so that everyone can get used to each other gradually."

"Have fun, stretch. I know you can convince Kate that South Carolina is the best place on earth. If you need any help, I’ll be glad to pitch in. I think I love it as much as you do."

"Thanks for the offer, T. I think we’re gonna do some beach camping and slowly work our way down to Florida. Kate wants to take me to Disney World."

"Aren’t you a little old for that?" Townsend teased.

"I’ve never been, and I’m not getting any younger, so I guess there’s no time like the present. I’ll call you when we get back, okay?"

"You’d better, stretch. Take care of yourself."

"I will. Make sure you let Nicole come up for air once in a while, you hussy."

"If you think I’m a hussy now, you have a short memory, Hennessey," Townsend said, laughing.

"Welcome back," Townsend said the moment she saw the dark head poke into the office.

"It’s good to be back," Hennessey replied. "Most people would kill to be on a six week vacation, but I was itching to get back home after two."

"Did you have fun on your trip down the coast?"

"Yeah. Most of it was a lot of fun, but the visit with my grandparents didn’t go very well."

"Why not?"

"Nothing big happened," Hennessey admitted, "but I don’t think Kate will ever warm up to my grandparents — or my father."

"What’s wrong with your father?" Townsend asked sharply.

Hennessey smiled. "I love how defensive you are of my family."

With a small smile Townsend said, "They deserve defending. They have their faults, but they've all done their best, Hennessey."

"You know I agree with you, but Kate thinks Daddy uses the money I send for alcohol." Hennessey shrugged her shoulders. "She’s probably right. She thinks I should pay some of their bills directly, rather than give him a check."

"I’m sure you considered that," Townsend said. "Why did you choose to do it the way you do?"

"Because he’s my father," Hennessey said. "I know he’s an alcoholic, and I know he’s often irresponsible, but he’s my daddy. I can’t take away the little bit of pride he has left. I’d have to tell him that I don’t think he’s able to handle the money, and that would break his heart."

"I understand, Hennessey. I really do."

"Thanks," the older woman said. "I might be enabling him by giving him money, but in his case, I think it would be worse for him to know I don't trust him. I'm trying my best."

"I know you are."

Hennessey shivered and shook her head. "This makes me anxious to talk about. Why don't you tell me about Nicole."

"We had a great summer," Townsend said, smiling brightly. "We took short trips all over the region. We went to Atlanta, Savannah, Winston-Salem, Charleston … just about every place I could think of to give her a taste of the South."

"Did she like it?"

"Yeah, I think she did, but I'm certain she likes me. That's the important part," Townsend added, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Then why didn't she stay? I thought that was the point."

"Yeah, that was part of the reason, but she really likes her job in Boston, and her family is there. She has some young nieces and nephews that she's positively wild about, and she hates the thought of leaving them. I think she wants to take it slow to make sure we aren't making a mistake. I don't mind," Townsend insisted. "I want her to be sure before she gives up too much of her life for me."

"Must be nice," Hennessey said, a look of sadness stealing over her features.

"Hey, Townsend?" Hennessey’s voice broke the stillness in the office, and Townsend found herself starting at the sound.

"Yeah?"

"What are you gonna do for Thanksgiving?"

"I’m gonna go to Boston. Why do you ask?"

"I wasn't sure if you were gonna. If you weren’t, I thought you might come home with me."

Townsend blinked at her friend. "That’s… a bit of a surprise."

"Surprise?"

"Uh-huh." Townsend stood up and walked around her desk to perch on the corner of Hennessey’s. "I… haven’t brought it up, but one of two things is happening. Either you're sick of me, or Kate isn’t too crazy about me. I have a feeling I know which one is the truth."

Hennessey leaned over and rested her head on her stacked fists. The posture was one that Townsend had seen hundreds of times, and each time, it made her imagine her friend as a small child. The angle of her head usually made her dark hair fall into her eyes, and she looked so earnest and thoughtful that Townsend wanted to kiss her on the crown of her head. This time she didn’t resist the impulse, and when she pulled away, Hennessey looked up at her. "What was that for?"

"For looking adorable." She shrugged her shoulders. "Couldn’t help myself."

Giving her friend a full smile, Hennessey said, "It’s not that Kate doesn’t like you, Townsend. She does. She just… she doesn’t like us."

"Us?"

"Yeah. She feels like a third wheel when we’re together. You and I speak in a shorthand that she doesn’t understand, and it makes her feel left out."

"Then how were you planning on getting away with having me come to Beaufort with the two of you?"

Hennessey rolled her eyes and said, "I’d rather have Kate be slightly angry with me than have you be alone on Thanksgiving."

Townsend ran her hand through Hennessey’s thick hair. "You’re a doll, but I’m gonna be far from alone. I miss Nicole like crazy, and we plan on spending most of the holiday together. I want to remind her of what she left behind in South Carolina."

"Ooh … that sounds like fun."

"I think it will be," Townsend agreed.

She got up and walked back to her desk, and she heard Hennessey’s quiet voice ask, "Does it bother you that we don’t see each other outside of work anymore?"

"Of course it bothers me, but I’m plenty busy. My taskmistress, Nicole, has dragged me — kicking and screaming — up to chapter twenty-two of my novel. I could never have finished that much if I were spending all of my evenings with you. So, you’re doing me a favor by ignoring me." The blonde stuck her tongue out at her friend, but immediately saw that the gesture wasn’t appreciated.

"I would never ignore you, Townsend. Don’t even joke about that. The only reason I’m allowing Kate to set our social schedule is because I hope she’ll come to love you if I don’t push the issue."

"Love might be a bit much to hope for," Townsend said, smiling warmly at her friend. "Let’s go for like."

"As I’ve told you, she likes you fine; but she’s a long way from liking us."

"Hey, good lookin’, how was your holiday?"

Hennessey put her bag down and crossed the room to kiss Townsend’s cheek. "Before I start, I want to hear how your Thanksgiving was. My story will take a while."

Townsend ran her hand through the dark hanks of hair that had fallen forward when Hennessey leaned over. "Are you all right, baby?"

"Yeah. I’m fine. I just have a long story to tell. So … spill it. How was your time with Nicole?"

"Good. Very good, actually. She spent time at my parents’ house, and I went to Sconset to meet her family. We had a great time together, and both of our families seemed to approve."

"That’s it? That’s all you have to report?"

"Well, we spent a lot of time together, and I think my charms had their intended effect." Townsend’s face bore a pleased smile as she added, "She wants to spend the summer together, and if things work out as well as we think they will, she’ll quit her job and move here."

"Excellent! I’m so happy that she’s agreed to move here!"

"Well, let’s not jump ahead that far. She’s agreed to give it a try."

"It’s a done deal," Hennessey beamed. "No one could spend the summer with you and have any desire to leave. Fait accompli!"

"We’ll see," Townsend said demurely. "Now tell me your story. It must be a good one."

"It’s an exciting one, I’ll give you that." The dark-haired woman took in a breath and asked, "Have you met my cousin Brett?"

"No, I don’t think so. How’s he related?"

"He’s my grandmother’s brother’s grandson. His mom is my Aunt Helene."

"I met your aunt and a bunch of her children, but I don’t remember a Brett."

"Oh … he might have been in jail at the time," Hennessey said, a nonchalant tone to her voice. "He spends a good deal of time there."

"For what?!"

"He has the usual Rubidoux vice: he gets drunk and starts fights with people. He’s a couple of years younger than I am, and he’s usually full of piss and vinegar before any get together ends."

"Sounds like a fun guy," Townsend said.

"Yeah, he’s a lot of fun — just don’t make him mad." Hennessey laughed at her own joke and continued. "We had most of the Rubidoux clan over on Thanksgiving. We usually alternate the Rubidoux and the Boudreaux families for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"Are the parties always at your place?"

"Oh, yeah. We’ve got the most space and the biggest kitchen. One of the drawbacks of owning a restaurant," she said. "Anyway, it was Thanksgiving Day, and we were obviously closed, but a car filled with some good ol’ boys pulled up at around ten o’clock. I went out to tell them that we were closed, but they weren’t of a mind to leave. One of them in particular was determined to have a meal, and it was pretty obvious that I was the entrée he had in mind."

"Oh, my! You shouldn’t taunt the poor men with your charms, Ms. Boudreaux."

"Yeah," Hennessey said, laughing. "I’m all about taunting men to get them to hit on me. Anyway, I was well in control of the situation, but Brett stuck his head out and heard one of the guys ask me to get in the car and go for a ride. He had to start cussin’ a blue streak, and the guys took offense. Before I knew it, the guys were out of the car and Brett was calling for reinforcements."

"Oh, shit!"

"Oh, shit is right. My cousins started streaming out, and when the guys in the truck saw how outnumbered they were, one of them pulled a boning knife from his tackle box. They’d obviously been out fishing and drinking all day, and they were as drunk as Brett was."

Townsend’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and she had paled considerably. "What happened?"

"Like an idiot, Brett rushed the guy. I think the guy had only pulled the knife as a threat, but when Brett came at him, he used it. He held it up in a defensive posture, and in the blink of an eye, blood was gushing out of Brett like a geyser!"

"Jesus Christ, Hennessey!"

"Yep. As soon as my cousins saw that, they started pummeling the guys. One of them was stabbed in the side, and another one suffered a bad concussion."

"What happened?! Did anyone die?"

"Nope. Thanks to Kate, everyone will be fine. While the fight was still raging, she kept a cool head and got two of my uncles to carry Brett into the shack. Someone ran to the house to get her medical bag, while she put pressure on Brett’s carotid artery to keep him from bleeding out."

"Bleeding out?"

"Yeah. Bleeding to death. You can die in less than a minute from a wound like that, but she got to him in time. I ran back into the shack and helped her — even though my hands were shaking like I’d had a hundred cups of coffee."

"What did she do?"

"She managed to suture the wound and get him stabilized, then she went to work on the other guy who’d been stabbed. He was bleeding like a stuck pig, but she was fairly sure he hadn’t been hit in a vital organ. By the time the ambulances got there, she was starting to work on the guy with the head injury, but the paramedics took over."

"God damn, Hennessey. I’ve never heard of anything like that!"

"You know, I’ve been proud of her accomplishments all along, but I’ve never seen her in action. She was so skilled, so competent. Her hands were so beautiful when she was working." She shook her head to focus her thoughts and continued, "She jumped into the ambulance with Brett, and when we all reached the hospital, she started barking out orders to the ER staff, telling them Brett’s blood type and how much blood he’d lost."

"How’d she know his blood type?"

"My Aunt Helene knew his blood type. He’s spilled a lot of it over the years." She shook her head. "I’ve never seen Kate so decisive, so excited. She was bubbling with an energy that fairly radiated from her, Townsend. She was … full of herself, and I mean that in the best possible way. She used every one of her talents and skills that night, and she was truly a dynamo."

"Your family must be ready to adopt her," Townsend said.

"Just about. When we finally got home that night, my grandma hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks." She started to laugh and added, "She said, ‘I know your people don’t believe in the Lord, but Jesus was guiding your hands tonight, Kate.’" Townsend collapsed with laughter, and Hennessey joined in. "Even Kate thought that was funny."

"God, how must it feel to be able to save a man’s life," Townsend said, her voice nearly a whisper.

"It must feel like an aphrodisiac," Hennessey said. "We rocked the house when we went to bed." She shook her head and whistled, then said, "She’s never been so … so … I don’t even know what to call it, but I hope it comes back soon!"

"You could hang out with Brett when he gets back on his feet," Townsend teased. "He sounds like he could use a personal physician."

"Yeah, he could," Hennessey agreed. "But I think this experience showed Kate — and me — that she’s a born trauma surgeon. Psychiatry will never be enough for her, Townsend. She needs the adrenaline rush. That’s why she was drawn to medicine."

"Wow." Townsend leaned back in her chair. "That decision has a lot of repercussions for you two."

"I know it," Hennessey agreed. "But if she feels stifled in her career, she won’t be a good partner."

"No, but if she’s gone for twenty hours at a time, she won’t be much of a partner, either."

Hennessey shrugged. "One step at a time. We both need to find satisfaction in our careers, then we’ll do what we have to do to be happy in our relationship. You can’t have everything you want. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that."

"Hey, look at this Easter basket!" Townsend gave her friend a delighted smile while ripping open the clear, pink plastic that covered the gift.

"I couldn’t go home for Easter and not bring you a basket as nice as mine was," Hennessey explained.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I did. And for a change, I think Kate enjoyed herself, too. Gramma still thinks she’s a saint, so that helps a lot, and everyone else has started to treat her like a member of the family. She seems much more comfortable."

"Hmm … your words say one thing, but your expression says another. What’s wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I’m just … uhm … Kate has made some decisions about next year, and I’m not very happy about them."

"Are you working on anything that’s absolutely pressing?" Townsend asked, in a seeming non sequitur.

"No, not really. Why?"

"Because we haven’t played hooky in ages. Let’s sneak out and go to the beach."

"To the beach?"

"Yeah. I’d love to take a long walk on the beach, maybe rent some surf casting gear. C’mon. We deserve a day off."

"We just had a five day weekend," Hennessey said, her blooming grin telegraphing her feelings.

"Yeah, but we weren’t together. I need a day with you. Now come on." She stood and picked up her carryall, giving Hennessey a questioning look.

"You’re the boss," the older woman said, adding a wink.

The pair deposited their shoes on a dock and took off, walking in the chilly surf. "It’s kinda nice to have a job where we can wear shorts most of the year, isn’t it?" Townsend asked.

"Sure is. Do you think you can wear shorts and walk on the beach in Baltimore in April?"

"Hold on there, sport. What’s this about Baltimore?"

"Johns Hopkins is Kate’s number one choice for a surgical residency."

"Oh, Hennessey." Townsend wrapped an arm around her friend’s waist and gave her a squeeze. "What happened to South Carolina?"

"If she’s gonna be a top flight trauma surgeon, she has to do her residency at a top flight hospital. USC isn’t a bad place, but it’s certainly no Johns Hopkins."

"Where are her other choices? Is USC one of them?"

"Nope. The others are in New York, California and Chicago. It doesn’t really make much difference to me which one she gets. None of them are near my home." She let out a melancholy sigh and shook her head. "None of them are near my job or my best friend, either."

Townsend reached over and took Hennessey’s hand. They walked in silence for a long while, both privately reflecting on the distressing development. "Are you considering staying behind?" Townsend finally asked.

Hennessey’s shoulders slumped as she said, "This is one of the ‘for better or worse’ times. I don’t want to leave, Townsend, but I have to be supportive of Kate. I can’t abandon her for four years — especially when she’ll need me so much."

"I assume that her residency will be tough, but will it be tougher than med school?"

"Oh, yeah. Much tougher. She’ll have much more responsibility, and her hours will be even worse. Most people agree that a surgical residency is the toughest of them all, and knowing Kate, she’ll throw herself into it with all of her heart."

"Where does that leave you? What about your career?"

"I’m going to try to find a teaching job," she said, looking thoroughly dejected. "I’ll apply at every college near her choices and hope that I get something in the city that Kate gets. It’s a crap shoot, but I don’t know what else to do."

Townsend stopped and let her hands drop to her sides. Her head tilted back, and she stared up at the sky for a full minute. "I hate to be this selfish, but I can’t bear the thought of your being so far away for so long." She ineffectually sniffed away her tears as Hennessey wrapped her in an emotion-filled hug.

"I don’t want to go," the brunette whispered. "I’m so happy here … so happy with my job … with our friendship. I love Kate; you know I do, but I love my life, too. And my life is here … with you."

"Oh, Hennessey, how are we going to get through this? I can’t do your job, and I can’t leave it open until you get back. It’s not fair to hire someone and then fire him or her when you return — if you return."

"No, of course you can’t do that," the brunette agreed. "You’ll have to replace me." Her voice caught as she said this, and she was unable to stop her tears. Her legs slowly gave out, and she found herself sitting cross-legged on the sand, her head buried in her hands.

Townsend was beside her in the blink of an eye, holding her and murmuring, "I don’t want to replace you. I don’t … I don’t."

With tears streaming down her face, Hennessey looked at her friend and sobbed, "What are we going to do?"

"I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’ll think of something. I swear we will. We’ll figure out a way around this, no matter what." She wrapped her arms around her friend’s shivering body and held her close, her own tears slipping into the inky, black strands of Hennessey’s glossy hair.

Hennessey jumped for the phone when it rang, Townsend staring at her with wide eyes, amazed at her quick reaction time. "Hi, baby," she said, a smile twitching at her lips. "What’s the news?" She paused for a moment, and Townsend could see her wince slightly, then let out a breath. "Wow. That’s quite an accomplishment, Kate. I don’t know many people who get their first choice after having been out of school for two years. You should be very proud of yourself — I know I am."

Townsend smiled at the dark-haired woman, happy to have a friend of such character. She knew this was the last thing that Hennessey wanted, and she truly admired her for being so supportive of her partner. She got up and let the women have their privacy, pausing to run her hand through her friend’s hair and pat her shoulder as she left the room.

Three weeks later, Townsend walked into the office to find Hennessey making a series of paper airplanes and sailing them across the room — trying to reach the wastebasket. "Having fun?" the blonde asked.

"Not really. I’ve decided to stop saving my rejection letters. I’m throwing them all away, just in case they’re bad juju."

"No luck, huh?"

"Nope. I got some interest from Loyola, in Chicago, and the City University of New York, but they won’t do me much good in Baltimore. Baltimore is a smaller town, with far fewer colleges and universities. It’s gonna be much tougher to find a job."

"What will you do if you can’t find one? Don’t you need the money?"

"Hell, yes, we need the money," Hennessey said with more asperity than she had intended. She shook her head and said, "I’m sorry, honey. I’m just on my last nerve. Kate’s gonna make less than minimum wage when you consider the hours she’ll be working. I’m gonna have to find something — even if it’s not teaching."

"Like what?"

"I don’t know. I guess I could waitress — Lord knows I have enough experience."

"Hennessey, I can’t let you do that! You have a PhD!"

With another perturbed scowl settling on her face, the brunette said, "I know that. No one knows better than I that I’ve worked my ass off for that Ph.D., but if I can’t find a teaching job, I have to do something, Townsend. We can’t live if I don’t work."

"Let me lend you the money," Townsend offered. "I’d be happy to lend you enough so that you could stay home and write. This could be a great opportunity for you to work on your novel."

Hennessey sighed. "I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t."

She was shaking her head as she spoke, and Townsend knew her well enough to know she was wasting her breath, but she continued to press. "Hennessey, don’t be so hard-headed about this. How will it help your relationship for you to spend four years working as a waitress? How will it help your career? How will it prepare you for your next career move?"

"It won’t," she admitted quietly. "But Kate would never allow you to support us. Her parents have offered, but I don't feel right about taking money when I'm fully capable of working."

"Listen to yourself, Hennessey! Is your pride worth more than your future?" She wiped at her face with her hands, her eyes tightly closed. "Shit. I’m sorry. This is none of my business. Only you two can work this out." She gave her friend a chagrined look and asked, "Forgive me?"

Hennessey let a small smile escape, then nodded slightly. "Of course I do. I wish that I could be more flexible, but I've got too much of my grandma in me. I can't bear to accept money for not working."

"Isn’t there any way I can help?" the smaller woman asked.

"None that I can think of. But believe me, if I think of a way, you’ll be the first to know."

On the following Saturday, Hennessey stood on Townsend’s porch, trying to maintain her composure. "I’ll have my computer hooked up soon, and I’ll write to you before you leave for the summer," she said, her voice strained and tense.

"All right." Townsend looked deeply into her friend’s eyes, and for the first time, she saw an underlying unhappiness reflected in the bright orbs. Without allowing herself a moment to censor her thoughts, she said, "Are you sure this is the right thing for you? Baltimore's only a day’s drive from here, and you could easily work a four-day work week and take off on Friday for a long weekend with Kate. Plus, you have the entire summer off. Is it worth it to give up something you love just for the two of you to be in the same city?"

The dark head nodded slowly. "I love Kate more than I love my job." Her lips twitched into a smile, and she added, "That just shows how much I love Kate." Hennessey wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her close. "I’ll miss you more than I will ever be able to tell you. These last two years have been the happiest ones of my life, and you’re one of the biggest reasons for that."

"I feel the same," Townsend sniffed. "Your friendship means so much to me. I don’t know how I’ll get through the summer, much less the next four years."

"Well, you don’t have to spend the summer miles from an Internet connection," Hennessey chided teasingly.

"I never thought it would happen, but I really enjoy hiking. Thank goodness Nicole’s as much an outdoorsy type as I am. Not many sane women would agree to spend the summer hiking the Appalachian Trail."

"I think it’s fantastic," Hennessey said, her pleasure showing in her eyes.

"When does Kate begin her residency?"

"July the 15th. Until then, we’ll be finding a place to live and trying to get comfortable in Baltimore. I know it’ll be easier to find a job when I’m there, so I’m trying to be confident, even though I have no particular reason to be." Hennessey’s eyes shifted. "When are you going to start looking for your new Director of Curriculum?"

"Not until I get back from my vacation. I’m going to spend the summer trying to talk Nicole into moving down here. That’s what I’m going to focus on. We’ve got fall term nailed down, so there’s no hurry to find someone."

"Maybe Nicole can replace me," Hennessey said, sounding suddenly jealous.

"I don’t think that’s a goal of hers, but we’ll see," the blonde said. "I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone to do the kind of job that you did, baby."

"You’re being too generous, but I appreciate it," Hennessey said. "I’d better get going. Kate wants to leave by 10:00. Oh … she wanted to come say goodbye, too, but I wanted to be alone with you. I didn’t want to have to put on a brave front."

Townsend hugged her close and said, "You never have to put on a front for me. I love you just as you are."

"I know," Hennessey whispered. "I feel the same about you."

"You’d better scoot. Don’t want to keep the good doctor waiting."

Hennessey kissed Townsend gently on the lips. "I love you," she said hoarsely. "I always will."

"I love you, too," Townsend said, her voice breaking. "Please, please, be happy. I won’t be able to bear it if you’re not."

"I’ll do my best," Hennessey said. "You do the same for me."

"I will." Slowly, they released each other and stood for a moment, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Finally, Hennessey turned abruptly and scampered down the steps, holding up a hand in a final wave.

The middle of August was always hot in South Carolina, but this year it seemed even hotter than usual. Hennessey knew that part of the problem was that she'd lived and worked in air conditioned comfort for too many years, but that wasn't something she'd ever admit to her family. So, she tried to cope with the heat by wearing as little as possible and staying outside as much as possible. But on this particular night, the bugs were biting; and no matter how much insect repellent she put on they were still getting to her.

Heading upstairs, she went into the bath and filled the tub with cool water. She undressed and climbed in, feeling as down and rootless as she could ever remember. Her restless mind wandered to Townsend - as it often did, and she tried to imagine how hot and tired her friend must be. She doesn't have air conditioning or a tub, so I should count my blessings. But she didn't feel like counting her blessings; she felt like sulking. And that's exactly what she did - for nearly an hour. She hadn't turned the light on, not wanting one extra bit of heat in the room, and slowly the soft night-sounds of the Low Country started to soothe her.

Finally refreshed, she got out and dried off deliberately ineffectually, wanting the fan in her room to hit her wet skin and drop her body temperature another degree or two. She had dozens of books she wanted to read, but couldn't manage the interest, so she plugged her computer in. I'm sure I don't have any mail, but I can at least write to Townsend. It always feels better to put my thoughts on paper. Hmm … I guess someone should coin a new phrase. I hardly ever write on paper anymore. Maybe … put fingers to keyboard? I'll have to work on that.

Her computer screen threw off a dull, blue light in the dark room, illuminating the space just enough for her to be able to move around without tripping over anything. She sat on the floor to write, the coolest place in the room. I guess I should check my mail. I don't think I've looked at it all week. It took a minute to find the modem line, and a few more to creep down the stairs to plug the fifty foot cord into the phone jack in the kitchen. Once back in her room, she was pleased to see that she had six messages. None of the addresses were familiar, and she was set to delete them all, but she was bored enough to read them. The first three were variations on a theme — offering more porn for less money — and she quickly deleted them. The next two were also spam, solicitations for on-line casinos, another service she wasn't interested in.

The last note was from the United States Forest Service, and it took her a moment to check the header to see that it was from Townsend. "Cool!" she said aloud. Quietly, she began to read.

From: U.S. Forest Service <usfs.gov> Sent: August 15, 2003

To: Hennessey Boudreaux <hbeaudreux@freemailcom>

Subject: DON'T YOU DARE DELETE THIS, STRETCH!

Hi I know this isn't my usual e-mail address, but neither of us thought of having remote access to our computers at camp. I wish I could blame you, but I think it's my fault, so I'd better not try. You always know the score, stretch. Anyway, we're at a small camp that the Forest Service maintains for hikers on the Appalachian Trail. Boy, did we ever need it! Having a cot and a kitchen — even a poorly equipped one — has been a blessing. I'm so sick of dehydrated food that if I never see another foil packet of beef stew it will be far too soon! I don't have a new e-mail addy for you, and since I can't get to my mail, I'm just gonna guess that you're still using your freemail account. I know you hate to pay for things that you can get for free, so I'm betting on your cheapness, bud <s>. Things are going pretty well on the hike. I'd love to do this again someday, Hennessey, but next time I'd like to do it with you. I know you'd love hiking if you'd give it a try, and your creative mind would soar out here with nothing but the beauty of nature to distract you. I had high hopes when I started this trip, but things haven't worked out like I'd planned. Nicole is almost the perfect woman for me, but as you told me a long time ago, almost isn't good enough. We haven't fought, so things are fine between us — well, not fine, but not tense, either. I know she's hurt, and I hate that I hurt her, but there's something missing, Hennessey, and I can't build a life with a woman when I know something is missing. Nicole's a very good sport, and she's done her best to make me feel better about breaking up. That's just the kind of woman she is, and that's one of the many, many wonderful things about her. But I don't love her with abandon — and I've got to be able to do that. Life's too short to be with someone that you can't love recklessly. I think she understands — she says she does — but I still feel like an ass for having led her on for so long. She's a great woman, Hennessey, she's just not my great woman. I'm not sure I'll ever be with the woman I dream about, but I'm not going to stop hoping — at least not yet <s>. I hope things are going great for you, bud. You can't write back to me since I don't expect to stop at even a rough camp again, but I'll be home on Labor Day, and I'd better have a very long letter from you waiting for me. It's gonna kill me to start work again without you, but I'm gonna do my best to keep moving forward. I hope that some day you can come back to camp, but I know that's unlikely. It's just one of the dreams I have, Hennessey, and I'm not ready to give it up. I love you, and I want nothing but the best for you. Be happy — for me. Love, T

Hennessey read the letter at least a dozen times, each reading bringing a bigger and brighter smile to her lips.

On Labor Day, Townsend pulled her SUV into the driveway of her home, stunned to see Hennessey’s father's dilapidated truck parked at the front of the space. Jumping out, she ran around the back of the house and found her friend sitting on the wide, shaded porch.

A cheap, Styrofoam cooler, filled with cold bottles of water and cranberry juice, sat beside her, and an open bag of chips lay on the table. Hennessey was wearing the top of a pink and white Hawaiian print bikini, her burnished skin glowing with a fine layer of perspiration. A very small portion of her brown legs was covered by white, cutoff jeans, and her feet were bare. Her long, black hair was twisted into a braid and had been clipped to the back of her head, making her look remarkably cool despite the sizzling hot day. When Townsend came dashing around the corner, Hennessey’s head turned, and she let a slow, lazy smile play at her lips. Tilting her water bottle at her friend, she asked, "Thirsty?"

"Hennessey Boudreaux, what in the hell are you doing here?"

"It's a holiday so I decided to spend it with my best friend. I got your letter and knew you'd be back today — so here I am."

Townsend climbed the few stairs and gave her friend a very generous hug and a kiss. Hennessey’s lips were moist and tasted of perspiration, but Townsend had rarely experienced a nicer kiss. "I missed you." Townsend ostentatiously sniffed all over her friend’s mostly bare body, "You smell wonderful. Kinda like a Piña Colada. Damn, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea."

Patting the arms that encircled her, Hennessey said, "I think I have an idea. I have a darned good idea if it was half as much as I missed you." She pulled away and took a good look at her friend. Townsend was wearing a white, sleeveless cotton shirt, and a pair of khaki shorts. "My, that’s a nice tan you’ve got there," she said, not managing to stifle a laugh. She poked gently at the various lines, commenting, "I love tan lines, but I don’t know that a dozen of them is the best look for you."

"Funny." Townsend gave her friend a pinch and said, "I wore the strongest sun block available, and I changed the length of my shirtsleeves and shorts and socks every day, but it didn’t help much. We were in the sun for twelve hours a day and I kept wishing that I could wear my bikini top, but there were too many insects. I’d much rather have a bad tan than a bunch of bug bites."

"I think you look cute," Hennessey said. "Fit and trim and healthy. You honestly look fantastic," she said, her sincerity obvious.

"Thanks," Townsend said, blushing slightly.

"Now sit down here and tell me what happened with Nicole. Your letter didn't go into much detail."

Townsend took out a bottle of juice from the cooler and drank half of the bottle in one long gulp. "I, uhm … I don’t really know what to say," she mumbled, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "We get along very well, we’re very fond of each other, and we both want the same kind of life."

"So where’s the problem?" Hennessey asked, her brow knit.

Townsend looked away, staring at a blue heron that was moving slowly across her yard, seeking some unseen prey. "I … I don’t know," she said.

Staring at her intently, Hennessey asked, "You don’t know, or you’d rather not say?"

Lips pursed, Townsend closed her eyes and said, "A little of both. I love her, Hennessey, and she loves me, but we discovered that we don’t love each other enough to make it work. We’re not … totally committed to each other. And you should know better than most that a relationship takes a total commitment. I wish we could have made the leap, but I think it’s better to know the truth now — rather than have her pull up stakes and move here, only to turn around and go back."

Hennessey nodded. "I understand that you need to keep some things private, baby, but if you ever want to talk, or cry on my shoulder, I hope you know that I’m here for you."

Smiling warmly, Townsend said, "Only in the metaphysical sense, sweetheart. When do you have to go back?"

"I’m leaving tonight. I need to be back for the breakfast shift."

"Oh, shit," Townsend moaned. "Are you really waitressing?"

"Yeah, but I hope this is my last week. I was hoping I could talk my old boss into taking me back."

Townsend gave her a perplexed look and asked, "Old boss? What old boss? You’ve never worked in Baltimore before. Do you have a professor there?"

"Nope." Hennessey looked her in the eye and said, "I’m asking for my job back. I want to work for you again, Townsend. That is, if you haven’t already filled my slot."

"What? Jesus, Hennessey, what in the hell's happened?"

"Is that a yes? I’d really like to get this job thing settled. I can’t be a waitress for one minute more than I have to be."

Townsend threw her arms around her friend and said, "Of course you can have your job back! Of course!" They hugged for a long time, with Townsend finally saying, "Oh, Hennessey, I’ve missed you so much. No one has ever held me like you do. No one has ever made me feel so well loved."

"I’ve missed you, too," the brunette whispered. "You can see how much when you get your e-mail."

The blonde head lifted, and Townsend asked, "E-mail?"

"I’ve been writing to you all summer," Hennessey said. "I knew you wouldn’t read it until you returned, but I needed to sort things out, and I’ve never found a better listener, even when you’re not there."

"Tell me what’s happened, sweetheart," Townsend said. "Why are you coming back?"

"It's a long story," Hennessey said. "A very long story. I could try to tell you everything, but I'm sure that I'll forget something. Why don't you read the e-mails I sent? Then you'll get the whole picture."

"Really?" Townsend's nose wrinkled as she studied her friend. "Is that really what you want?"

"Yeah. I don't have long and I don't want to spend the whole time talking about me. I'm much more interested in you."

"Well, I'm interested in you!" Townsend slapped at her friend's tanned leg and squeezed her thigh. "You're getting a muscle there."

"I am," Hennessey agreed. "Being on my feet has been good for me after spending the last hundred years sitting on my butt. I've been thinking about starting to exercise. Can you help me out?"

"Yes!" Townsend's eyes lit up with delight. "We can go walking in the morning before work!"

"It's a deal," Hennessey said. "I've always been an early riser. Might as well do something productive."

Townsend looked at her friend for a minute, her eyes taking in the long body then lingering on her face. "Something's happened with Kate, hasn't it."

Smiling, Hennessey said, "Many things. And when you read your mail, you'll learn about all of them."

"Okay, okay. Just tell me one thing. Are you happy?"

"Happy?" Hennessey sat back in her chair and stared into the middle distance for a few moments. When she turned back, she had a half smile on her expressive face. "I think …" She pursed her lips and then thoughtfully bit the bottom one. "I think I'm on the verge of being happier than I've ever been. I might be completely wrong, but if things work out like I hope they will …" She gave Townsend a blindingly bright smile and said, "I'm tentatively blissful."

Townsend's expression showed she was baffled, but she allowed her friend to keep her secrets. "I guess I'd better read my e-mail, huh?"

"The e-mails just tell what's happened this summer. You won't learn all of the secrets to my happiness in them. I'll have to fill a few things in."

"But you won't."

"Not right now, I won't."

"When?"

"Soon." Hennessey smiled and patted her friend's knee. "Or never."

"Could you be any more obtuse?"

"Don't think so." Giving her an adorably charming grin, she added, "Actually, I probably could be a little more obtuse, but then I'd just be annoying."

"You're annoying now!"

"Sure you want me back?"

"Positive. Even when you're annoying, you're still my favorite person."

"That's my goal, ma'am," Hennessey said in her slowest southern drawl.

Townsend got up and sat on her friend's lap, making Hennessey blink in surprise. "I can't help it," the blonde said. "I missed you so much, I have to hug you for a while."

"You won't hear a complaint from me," Hennessey said. "I have to leave in about an hour, but you're welcome to my lap for the duration."

Cuddling close, Townsend said, "I might take you up on that, stretch. It's been a long summer without you, and having you here again is a dream come true."

With a little bit of luck, we'll both have some of our dreams realized this year, Hennessey thought, closing her eyes and relishing the feel of Townsend's body.

Townsend insisted that Hennessey leave while it was still light out. "You've got a very long drive ahead of you, and I don't want to be worried about you all night. Now get going, and I'll see you sometime this weekend. We start work bright and early on Monday morning."

"I've never heard sweeter words," Hennessey said. She gave her friend another long hug, then kissed her gently on the lips. "I'm so glad to be back home."

"I'm so glad to have you. Now I have to go inside and find out why you're coming back."

"Have fun," Hennessey said, showing a devilish smile.

Part 19

Even though she was rabidly curious about Hennessey's e-mails, Townsend had to have a long shower. The moment she was clean, she went to her desk and logged into her mail program, tapping her foot while her two hundred and seventy six messages downloaded. She sorted by sender, and started to read Hennessey's correspondence, her heart beating faster as she read.

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: May 30, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Subject: Baltimore blues

Hi,

Please don't take my thoughts as a reflection on the city of Baltimore. I'm sure it's a lovely place, and that the people who live here are happy to be here. But it's not my place, and I don't think it ever will be. It's so … northern here, if you know what I mean. It's hard to believe we all share an ocean, but I'm pretty sure we do. But this Atlantic doesn't feel like my Atlantic. I know I shouldn't be bitching in my very first e-mail, but I can't help it. I feel so alone here, T, even though I'm not.

Well, that's kind of a lie. I am essentially alone. Kate's program doesn't start until July 15, but she's already working at one of those walk-in emergency clinics. She's not licensed to practice medicine, but she can do intakes and make a preliminary diagnosis. Then the real doc comes in and confirms or rejects her diagnosis. It pays pretty well, and since I haven't had any luck at finding a job, it's our only income. She also thinks that working there will keep her on her toes and be good experience. I don't know if that's true, but we need the money, so I can't really argue.

Anyway, that's all that's happening. Kate's working from 9:00 p.m. until 9:00 a.m., because the pay's better. I've tried to switch my schedule around to be the same as hers, but it's not working well. I was cranky and tired all of the time, and she finally told me to go to bed at my normal time.

We have a few hours together every day, which is actually more than we had before, so I shouldn't complain — but something's wrong. I'm not sure if it's her or me, but things just aren't going well. I'll write more when I figure out what it is. I wouldn't write a note like this if you were going to read it right away, but since you won't see this until I've resolved it I don't feel like I'm dumping on you <s>.

Hope you're well. Thinking of you often.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 15, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Subject: Help!

Hi,

I hope that by the time you read this I'm happily employed and loving living here — but it's gonna take a miracle.

I know it's only been two weeks since I wrote, but I don't think I've ever been this unhappy. I'm sure it's because I don't have anything to do and I'm feeling at loose ends, but that doesn't help much. Kate thinks I should find a job — any job — just to stay busy. I guess that's what I'll have to do, but I'm fighting it.

This is nothing but adolescent whining, but it kills me to have given up a job I truly love to live in a city where I have no ties, no family, no friends and just to do a routine job. I know it's elitist to complain about having to take an ordinary job, but I've worked so hard to earn my doctorate. It's making me crazy to give up my goals — especially since we'll be here for at least four years — more likely six.

Well, that's enough bitching for one day <s>. I'll write again when I feel better. It's not fair to write just to dump on you.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 18, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Subject: Good news at last!

Yes, it's hard to believe, but I have a job! It doesn't pay much, but the hours are good and I'll be in an academic setting.

I'm going to work in Johns Hopkins graduate research library as a reference librarian. Yes, I know I'm not a librarian <s>, but I've done a lot of work in research methodology, and I know my way around a library pretty darned well.

Besides having something to do during the day, I'll be relatively close to Kate. I hope we'll be able to see each other once in a while, although that might be a pipe dream <s>. Doctor Brill is going to be one busy woman, but that's the way she likes it. She's still working all night, and with my working all day we're going to have to leave pictures of each other to remember what we look like <s>. But I'm still excited about starting this job. It's gonna be great to be busy once again, and I'm looking forward to being in a better mood on a routine basis.

With any luck my future letters will be upbeat, happy and filled with good news. Keep a good thought!

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: June 30, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

The good news is that I like my job. The people I work with are nice and smart — two of my favorite qualities <s>. If I stay at this job for a while, I think it'll work out just fine. It's nowhere near as much fun as working with you, but, all things considered, it's not bad at all.

Yes, there is another shoe, and it's gonna drop. Kate and I had a very, very big fight — the worst we've ever had. For the first time, I'm worried about whether or not we can make it as a couple. I won't go into the details — mainly because I wouldn't dream of revealing any of her confidences, but it was awful, T.

I know you won't get this for quite a while, but I hope you're sending me your very best vibes. When you look up into the sky at night, make a plea to the heavens for me — I need all the help I can get.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: July 6, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

I know you're gonna say that we shouldn't have had this talk yesterday, but we had to. Kate worked almost a twenty-four hour shift — there're an awful lot of ER visits when people shoot off fireworks.

She was tired and cranky, but we both had yesterday off — and that doesn't happen very often.

Something has been simmering for a long time, and it all blew up yesterday. I guess I have to go backwards a little bit to make you understand this, so I'll try to explain it without boring you to death.

I know I've told you on a couple of occasions that Kate and I haven't spent much time talking about the future. Part of the reason for that was because our current circumstances were stressful enough — we didn't want to invite trouble. But in the back of my mind I think I always knew we'd have trouble once we really got into some deep discussions.

Well, I hate to admit it, but my suspicions were right. We went round and round yesterday, and one big thing became clear: Kate and I don't share the same dreams for our future. It's easy for me to say that my way is right and hers is wrong — but that's not fair to her. She's been honest with me from the start — I just didn't want to face reality.

Here's the bottom line. It's important to me to use my degree, and I have to work in a job that challenges me. But no matter what — my family will always come first. That includes my partner, our children, my grandparents, my daddy and yes, even my momma.

If I have to give up my career to keep my family happy — I'll do it — without complaint.

But Kate doesn't feel that way. She's figured out that her career has to come first. It's what makes her happy. She was a pretty miserable critter when we were in Hilton Head together last year, and she decided that she couldn't ever be in that position again. She needs the challenge, the pressure, and yes, the high that she gets from medicine.

Family is important to her, and she's a very loving partner — when she's home. But she can work for twenty-four hours and be oblivious to the fact that I miss her. She thinks I should find something that fills me up as much as her job fills her up — but there isn't a job like that in the world for me. Being with Kate fills me up. Being in Beaufort with my family fills me up. Being with you fills me up. I love writing, and I love literature, but it's my job and my hobby — not my life. Medicine is her life, and she's not only willing, but eager to let her career run the rest of her life. I guess that would be okay if I were the same way — but I can't be. I'm always going to be jealous of her mistress — medicine. If I ever get to the point where I don't want her at home, we're in trouble! But she doesn't see it that way. She thinks we should get our primary energy from our jobs, then come home and enjoy each other in the little time we have. That won't work for me — ever!

I've never told you this, but last year when we were both in Hilton Head I enjoyed my days more than my evenings. Kate was really no fun to be around when she wasn't working. She was irritable and generally pissy, and managed to find fault with almost everything. She wanted me home five minutes after quitting time, and she didn't want to spend time with you and Nicole. When she's not getting her needs met through her job she's dependent on me to fill her up, and that's a lot of responsibility.

I was patient with her then, because I knew she was frustrated. But she doesn't understand that I'm in that position now! She thinks I should quit my job and write — she's willing to work at the clinic to bring in extra money. But I can't write well if I'm in a bad space. It's not something I can power through. Besides, I can't be happy with only writing. I'm no Emily Dickinson! I need human contact — and plenty of it!

Things really suck, T, and I don't know how to fix them. Kate's good at talking, and she's good at understanding her feelings, but neither of us knows how to talk our way out of this.

We're both very hurt and tentative around each other. She's hurt because she thought I knew all of this and had bought into the plan. I'm hurt because I want her to want me as much as I want her — and she can't. Damn, that hurts to admit!

I wish you could send me some magic pixie dust and make our troubles disappear, but I think that's beyond even your considerable talents.

I'll write again, buddy. I hope I have better news.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: July 12, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

I'm moving back home tomorrow.

You know, e-mail is so damned impersonal. If I were writing this on paper, you'd see that my tears had stained the paper and made the ink run. That would have been a much better indication of my broken heart than those simple words of defeat.

Here's the unvarnished truth. I've grown up during the time Kate and I have been together. My needs have changed as I've matured. When we met, I was lonely and depressed. You were with Jenna and I thought I'd missed my chance. All I wanted was someone to love — someone to show me how to love. Kate did that for me — very, very well. But I need more than that now. I need someone to share my life with, and I can only do that with someone who feels about me like I feel about her.

A long time ago I told you that Kate and I were happy to be condiments in each other's lives. That was bullshit then and it's bullshit now. I said that just to convince myself that it was enough for me. It never was, T; it never was. I believed that Kate would eventually finish school and settle down and focus on our relationship — but that's not gonna happen.

I want what I've always dreamed of. - I want a partner who puts me first, a partner who'd rather spend time with me than just about anything else on earth. I want to be the entrée, T. I deserve to be the entrée. If you have a great entrée, you don't need any damn condiments — and that's where Kate is. Her job makes her so happy that she really doesn't NEED anything else. Yes, she loves me. Yes, she wants me to be with her for the rest of her life. But she doesn't NEED me! I want to be needed, damn it!

I'm so upset that I'm sick to my stomach, but, as usual, the doctor isn't in. The ER clinic called and said she could work a double shift today, so she went. This was our last chance to try to hammer out some form of compromise, and she went to work. If that isn't a clear message, I don't know what is.

I guess I'll be at my grandparent's house when you get home. Boy, if I had any idea where you were, I'd come find you. But I suppose Nicole wouldn't be very happy about seeing my long face. One thing I know is that you'd be glad to see me. I can count on you, T, and there's nothing more reassuring in my life.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: July 31, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

Boy, working on a fishing boat is sure a good way to have a lot of time to think. I've been going out with Daddy so Granddaddy can take it a little easier. Daddy is a pleasant companion, but as you know, he doesn't have much to say. But that's just as well. I've made good use of my time, thinking about my life and how I'd like it to be.

My personal life is going to be tough for a while, but I'm sure I'll get through it. Kate and I have talked on the phone every time she has an evening off. It's been hard because we're both so sad, but I don't know what else to do. You know, there's a chance that she'll change in a few years and want more from a relationship. But right now there's no way that we can make each other happy. She wants me to make sacrifices that I'm not willing to make. I want her to have a different personality — and that's not gonna happen simply because I will it. So, tonight we said goodbye. It was very, very hard for both of us, but it's not doing either of us any good holding on by the skin of our teeth. It's prolonging the agony, since neither of us can or will change. I loved her as best I could, and I know she did the same for me. It just wasn't enough.

It's going to be hard to not have contact with her, T, but I think we have to cut it off. We both need to move on, and Kate needs to focus on her career. She's very busy, but I can hear how happy she is to be doing what she's always wanted. At least I have that to warm my heart. I know she'll be happy this way, and I love her enough to let her find her happiness — even though it can't include me.

I'm feeling more than a little lost, but one thing I'm sure of is that I want to work for you again — if you'll have me. If I could design my dream job, I can't think of a change I'd make to my job at the camp. It's in the perfect location; the pay is wonderful, the work fun and challenging; and I have the best office-mate in the world. My boss is also fantastic, and very easy on the eyes <s>. So if you'll take me back, I'll have one major part of my life just like I want it.

I hope your trip is everything you wanted it to be. Nicole is one lucky woman, but I'm sure she knows it <s>. I hope you two come back in a few weeks, ready to start your lives together. I can't think of a better place to start than South Carolina. Of course, some have said I'm a little prejudiced…

Lots of love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: August 16, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

Just a short note to tell you how sorry I am that things haven't worked out between you and Nicole. You sounded pretty good in your e-mail, but I'm still very worried about you. I can imagine how stressful it can be to have to complete a trip with someone you've just broken up with. I sure hope Nicole's mature enough to appreciate your candor.

I'm thinking about you, T, and sending every good vibe your way.

Love,

Hennessey

From: Hennessey Boudreaux <hboudreaux@freemail.com> Sent: September 1, 2003

To: Townsend Bartley tbartley@HiltonHeadWritersProgram.com

Hi,

Well, you're due home this weekend, and I'm poised on the horns of a dilemma. Believe me, it's not as comfortable as it sounds <s>.

I wouldn't say this to anyone else, Townsend, and I only tell you because I know our friendship can handle anything. So, I'll stop beating around the bush and say it. I want my job back, and I'm almost positive that you want me back, too. But I have to be completely honest with you. I want more than my job. I want you, too.

Again, I wouldn't say that to any other woman who'd just broken up with someone. And I wouldn't trust a woman who'd been in a long-term relationship who said that to me, so I'm clearly standing on shaky ground. I'm only telling you now because it might factor in to your decision about whether or not to re-hire me.

You've told me at various points in our friendship that you're no longer in love with me, and I don't think that has affected our relationship. I want you to know that if you're certain that you can never return my feelings, it will never harm what we have. But that's only my perspective. If it will make you uncomfortable to have me mooning over you (I do moon, you know), then I'll just stay with my grandparents until I can find a teaching job. Or maybe I'll fish with my Daddy and write at night. God knows there's not much else to do around the house <s>.

If, on the other hand, you find that even one cool ember of attraction remains (just saying that makes my heart beat faster <s>) I will do everything I can to turn that ember into a roaring fire. I'm not the same indecisive, sexually phobic person I was the last time we tried to make a go of it, Townsend. I know what I want, and I know that I can make you happy, if you'll just give me a chance.

I don't expect you to make a decision about me right away. I know it's been a long time since you were in love with me, and that feelings don't change quickly. I just hope that you'll give me the opportunity to win you over again.

We love each other, we respect each other, we have the same interests, we're geographically desirable … how hard can it be to fall in love once again? <s> I'm making light of this mostly because I'm uncomfortable, T. This means more to me than you'll ever know, and I'm deadly serious about it. All I need from you right now is your promise that you won't be uncomfortable working together if you find yourself unable to return my love. The rest will take care of itself.

H

In a daze, Townsend walked to her bed and flopped down on it. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind buffeted by a storm of churning emotions. She was stunned by the things that had happened to Hennessey, and amazed that her friend had been so forthright about her feelings. She knew what she had to do, and she knew she had to do it as soon as she’d had a good night's sleep.

The next afternoon, the shrimp boat motored in at the dock, Dawayne at the helm, Hennessey tending the lines. The brunette was so preoccupied with securing the boat that she didn't notice her visitor until she jumped onto the deck. She stood stock-still, her eyes wide open with a combination of fear and excitement.

Townsend got up and brushed the dirt from her shorts, then walked over to her friend. Hennessey didn't move a muscle. She didn't see her father give Townsend a friendly wave and didn't hear him say he'd unload the boat. The only thing that she could manage was to fix her eyes on the gentle sway of Townsend's hips as she walked along the dock.

Standing right in front of Hennessey, Townsend grasped the bright red suspenders that held up her yellow rubber waders. She pulled the lovely, yet bedraggled woman to her and said, "Two things. One, I lied. Two, take a shower and we'll talk about it."

"Huh?"

"You're a little slow today, stretch, but I understand that. Let's just concentrate on the shower, okay? As pretty as you are, you smell like a can of cheap cat food. Let's go."

Hennessey felt her friend take her hand and lead her the short distance to the house. Neither woman said a word on their walk. Hennessey was too surprised to speak, and Townsend knew that Hennessey was a little hard-of-understanding at the moment. This is one of her most adorable traits, Townsend thought as they walked. She's so intelligent and mature, but she can be rendered as dumb as a rock, given the right circumstances.

They reached the house, and the door was open, as always. "Go upstairs and shower, and when you smell like a woman again, come on down. We have some serious talking to do."

Hennessey nodded, and marched off in the proper direction. A few minutes later, Townsend heard the water running in the bath, and she smiled at her friend's accomplishment. Not bad. She found the right room.

Around twenty minutes passed, with Townsend wondering if Hennessey had been scrubbing her skin with a pumice stone. Maybe I shouldn't have told her to get all of the fish smell off. She's very thorough. At the point she was ready to go upstairs to check on her, Hennessey walked downstairs, wearing a pair of thin, gray athletic shorts and a sky blue, sleeveless, Oxford cloth shirt. "I've done my best," she said, giving Townsend a smile that was mixed with a healthy dose of fear. "You said something about lying to me?"

Townsend patted the seat next to her and Hennessey did as requested. "I did." She scooted around until she was able to look directly into Hennessey's eyes and said, "I can think of at least two times you asked me if I was still in love with you. I told you the truth once, but I lied right to your face the other time. Can you forgive me?"

Hennessey's lips drew into a tight line. "When were you telling the truth?"

"The day before you graduated from Harvard. I was still in love with Jenna then, stretch, and even though your kiss almost made me pass out — I really wasn't in love with you then."

Her heart started to beat faster, and Hennessey felt her mouth start to go dry. "When did you lie?"

Townsend looked down at herself and absently brushed some dust off her shorts. "I don't remember exactly when it was, but it was in the last couple of years. I said I wasn't in love with you — and that was a big, fat lie."

Hennessey's expression started to brighten, but her scowl was still partially visible. "Are you telling me this just to soothe your conscience?"

Townsend placed her hand on the tanned thigh that rested right next to hers. "No. I'm telling you because of your letters. I thought I should make it clear that you don't have to win me over again. I'm won."

A blazingly bright smile immediately dominated Hennessey's features. "Are you fucking shitting me?!?"

"Hennessey! Such talk! You hardly ever swear."

"You hardly ever tell me that you love me … like that!"

"Well, I do." She looked deeply into her friend's cool blue eyes and said, "I do."

"Jesus, Townsend! I've got a million questions, but I want to kiss you so badly that I could scream!"

Townsend gave her a sexy grin and asked, "Didn't your grandma ever tell you not to scream in the house?"

Not wasting a second, Hennessey slipped her arms around Townsend's body, holding her close for nearly a minute. She was so overcome that she was on the verge of tears, but her need to feel Townsend's soft lips won out. She pulled back and gazed into her friend's eyes, feeling herself become utterly lost in them. Her own eyes closed as she leaned forward and was enveloped by the softest, warmest, most delightful lips she'd ever touched.

One of them let out a sigh, but neither was sure who'd done so. Hennessey lifted a hand and threaded it through Townsend's hair, simultaneously holding her still and caressing her.

Townsend gripped Hennessey's body in a bear-hug, not even realizing that she was pulling her into her lap. Hennessey uttered a soft sound as she was moved, and soon found herself straddling Townsend. She sat down, centering her weight between her friend's slightly spread thighs, trying not to hurt her.

Once Townsend had her where she wanted her, she let herself go — kissing Hennessey without a shred of self-control. They were grinding against one another, each trying to hold the other closer, kiss her harder, feel, smell and taste more and more of her.

Time seemed to stand still, and both women lost track of everything else in the world, until Dawayne walked in the front door, asking, "You out of the shower …?" He stared at his daughter and her friend, for a moment, looking guiltier than they did; then he headed for the bathroom, saying, "First time in weeks you haven't looked like a sick cat, baby girl. Nice t'see you, Townsend."

"Good to see you, too, Mr. Boudreaux. Sorry if we …"

"T'aint nothin'," he said. "Live it up."

Townsend stared at her friend, all of the passion drained from her body. "What in the hell…?"

"He's never been one to tell me what to do," Hennessey said. "I've told you he's more like an older brother than a father. Besides, given the way he tom-cats around with women, I'm sure he's been caught in more embarrassing situations."

Townsend struggled to disentwine herself from her friend, saying, "I can't believe how nonchalant you are. Damn, Hennessey, a few years ago that would have killed you!"

Hennessey gave her a sexy half grin. "I'm a big girl now."

"You certainly are," Townsend agreed, giving her another kiss. "Should we have that talk now, are do you wanna keep going until your grandparents come home and catch us again?"

"I'm not that big," Hennessey said. "Let's go say hi and then go for a walk or something."

They did just that; and after a very friendly greeting from the older generation, Townsend led Hennessey down to the end of the pier. "Do you mind? I love to hear the water lapping at the wood."

"So do I," Hennessey said. "The people in the restaurant can see us, though, so no kissing. Gramma would whup us if anyone complained."

Townsend took off her shoes and socks and let her toes dangle in the high tide. "So, you said you had a million questions before we went crazy there. Wanna start on your list?"

"I may have been exaggerating," Hennessey admitted. "But I do have a few. I guess the big one is: how long have you felt like this, and why didn't you tell me?"

"That's two," Townsend reminded her. "I can handle two, though. I guess I fell in love with you again when I spent Christmas here a couple of years ago. We were sitting by the lighthouse in Harbor Town and talking about how it was between us the first time we went there. It hit me that I loved you more than I ever had."

"Then why …?"

"Shh … shh … " Townsend soothed. "That question's already on the table. I didn't tell you because you were in a relationship, baby. What good would it have done?"

Hennessey looked puzzled. "But if you'd told me, I might have come to my senses about my relationship with Kate sooner."

"Uh huh." Townsend leveled her gaze and stared at Hennessey for a moment. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Townsend shook her head in frustration. "I would never — ever — want to be with a woman who had to be pushed to make up her mind to be with me. Jesus, Hennessey, don't you know me better than that? I never, not once, said one bad word about Jenna's religion. She had to make up her own mind about it. Why would I try to talk you into leaving Kate?"

Adopting a very guilty look, Hennessey said, "I told you I was still in love with you when you were with Jenna."

Townsend patted her thigh and said, "I've always been the bigger woman."

"You have been."

Hennessey was giving her a perfectly serious look, but Townsend waved her off. "Don't be silly. I was a lunatic for the first couple of years you knew me."

"But you've always been more mature than I was," Hennessey said. "You still are."

"I don't think that's true," Townsend said. "You had to grow up too soon, babe. I didn't grow up soon enough. Neither way was very desirable. I think we're about even now."

"So, what do we do now? I promised Daddy I'd be here all week."

"Mmm … that reminds me. Is it gonna be hard to tell your grandparents?"

Hennessey laughed. "No, not at all. Grandma’s been telling me for years that I was wasting my time with Kate. She’s been sure from the beginning that I belong with you."

"With me? Really?"

"Yep," Hennessey said. "Not long after I told her about Kate, she asked if you liked women, too. I didn’t want to break a confidence, but I didn’t think you’d mind."

"Of course I don’t mind," Townsend assured her.

"Well, she said that she’d never seen Kate look at me the way you did. Part of the reason she never really liked Kate was because she was sure that you loved me more than Kate did, and she was equally sure that I loved you more than I did Kate. I always have," Hennessey said, giving her a guilty smile.

"Then why were you with her for so long?" Townsend asked. "How could you be with her if you knew you loved me more?"

Hennessey scratched her head and said, "I'm not sure I did the right thing, but I did what I thought was right. I think it might be like people who've lost a beloved spouse. If they marry again, I bet the quality of their love is different. If most of them had a choice, they'd probably rather have their first spouse back. But since that can't happen, they find someone they love — in a different way. I loved Kate, I truly did; but I never loved her in the way I loved you, Townsend. Once we were together I owed her my fidelity. I try hard to be an honorable person, and it felt like the honorable thing to do to try my best to make it work with Kate."

"Huh." Townsend looked at her for a minute and said, "My therapist thinks you chose Kate because she was such a work-a-holic. She thinks you were programming your relationship to eventually fail."

"I don't have to pay for that analysis, do I?" Hennessey asked. "'Cause I think it stinks."

"It might," Townsend said, "but there might be a grain of truth there. You might have been looking for a "starter" lover."

"Well, I screwed up, because this was a hell of a long start," Hennessey said, laughing. "I think my Al-Anon sponsor hit it right on the head, and her opinion didn't cost me a dime."

"Always looking for a bargain, aren't ya," Townsend said.

"Yep. But free advice can be right, too. She thought that I chose Kate as self-protection."

"From?"

"From you," Hennessey said, her expression somber. "She thought that I was initially attracted to you because you were an alcoholic. Being with someone I had to save, and actually making some progress was fantastic for me. I'd spent my youth trying to stop my parents from drinking, and here I was, finally helping someone I loved start to care for herself."

Looking like she was on the verge of tears, Townsend nodded. "I can see that." Her glance flitted to Hennessey, her shifting eyes showing her fear. "You don't feel like that any more, do you?"

Despite their location, Hennessey wrapped her friend in a hug, whispering, "No, no, I worked through all of that." She pulled away and looked Townsend in the eyes. "My sponsor thought that being attracted to Kate was the healthiest thing in the world for me. And at the time, it was. Kate was a 'starter' lover, but I don't think I was programming our relationship to fail. I think I was trying to grow up. And, thankfully, I chose a person more mature and experienced than I was to grow up with.

"Kate comes from one of the most functioning families I've ever met," Hennessey continued. "The kids act like the kids and the parents act like the parents. Kate never had to find her father in a bar and beg him to come home. She never had her mother try to steal money from her. She was sexually experienced, easy to love, and she was able to love me without a trailer full of emotional baggage."

"I had two trailers," Townsend said, her voice small and sad.

"I did, too," Hennessey insisted. "But being with Kate allowed me to let go of that shit. It would have been so much harder to do if I was always trying to make sure you stayed on the straight and narrow."

"But you didn’t know this back then, right?"

"God no! I didn't used to have much access to my subconscious mind."

"How about now?" The sun was glinting off the water, making Hennessey's face glow with a burnished hue. Townsend wished she could touch that beautiful face, but she knew they had to be discreet when they were at Hennessey's home. "What does your subconscious mind think about us now?"

"All of my minds … and there are many … think that being with you is the best idea in the whole world. What about you? Are you still won?"

"Yep. I'm yours, stretch. I wish we could …" She looked towards the house and twitched an eyebrow suggestively. "But that doesn't seem likely."

"Are you sure you're ready to be with me, T? It hasn't been that long since you broke up with Nicole."

"It was early July," Townsend said.

"July? I thought it was just before you wrote to me."

"Nope. That was just the first time I had Internet access."

"What happened, babe? Can you tell me?"

"Sure. Now that you've broken up with Kate, I can tell you the whole story. You get to know a person very well when you're with her every moment. And she got to know me very well, too. Some of the things she learned bothered her. Actually, they'd been bothering her all along, but she was afraid to ask me a couple of questions. Luckily, she was able to get up the nerve before she decided to move here."

"What was she afraid to ask?"

"She was afraid to ask me about you." Townsend touched the furrow between Hennessey's brows with the tip of her finger. "Nicole asked me if I loved her more than I loved you, and I couldn’t honestly say that I did." She looked down at the ground and said, "I’ll never love another woman as much as I do you, Hennessey. Never."

As she spoke, Hennessey unconsciously scooted closer until her friend's hand stopped her. "We're in public, baby."

"Can't we go someplace? I have to touch you. I've waited a quarter of my life to touch you, Townsend. You're the most lovely, intelligent, sensitive, funny, moral woman I've ever known. And you have the most luscious body," she added, her voice growing thick and her eyes taking on a decided gleam.

"Luscious, huh?" Townsend asked, the twinkle back in her eyes. "Well, I'm afraid we're gonna have to wait to experience each others lusciousness for a little while. I've gotta go back tonight, and you've gotta work."

"Ooo… don't remind me. Commercial fishing isn't the life for me."

"I have to go to camp and get some things done, but I could be persuaded to come back."

"Please, please, please, please…"

Townsend stilled the moving lips with her fingers. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You just stay safe out there on the water. I want you to concentrate, baby. I want you to have both hands and all your fingers when I come back."

"I'll do my best." She leaned towards her friend again, then caught herself. "I've got to kiss you goodbye."

They walked to Townsend's car, parked away from public view. Townsend leaned against the door and put her hands on Hennessey's hips. Leaning in close, her eyes fluttering in amazement, Hennessey said, "I'm so happy … but I'm sad, too. We've both worked so hard to be with other people. I wish we could have just stayed with each other and ridden out the storms."

"Don't think like that," Townsend said. "We'd never have had this chance if we hadn't spent some time growing up. When we met, I couldn't think of you as an equal, Hennessey, and you just admitted that you didn't think of me that way, either. Now I do."

"We're not equals," the dark-haired woman said, smiling impishly. "You're my boss. Is there a policy about this?"

"Yes. The policy says that we're going to ask MaryAnn to make us co-directors of the program — and have each of us report to her. There's no way I'm going to let our jobs affect our relationship."

"Damn! Those are the words I've been longing to hear," Hennessey said, smiling.

"I mean them. You come first, stretch. You always will." They kissed for a long time, both of them trying to keep their passion under control. "I love you, Hennessey. I'll call you when I get home, okay?"

"I'll keep my cell phone with me every minute of the day. Call me any time — any time at all."

"I will." She kissed Hennessey one last time, then patted her cheek. "I don't know about you, but I had a nice day."

"If the best day of my life can be called nice, then I definitely had a nice day."

"Just wait," Townsend whispered, nibbling on Hennessey's lower lip. "I think I can improve on this one. Give me time."

"All you need," Hennessey said, her smile luminous.

The next afternoon, Hennessey's dream was satisfied when Townsend was once again sitting on the dock, waiting for the boat to come in. Jumping from the craft as soon as was safe, Hennessey gave her friend a warm smile. "I've been thinking about you all day." She held her grimy hands up and wiggled all of the digits. "But I concentrated, too."

"Can you leave now?"

Hennessey turned towards the boat and Dawayne waved her away. "G'wan. I can unload myself. Nice t'see ya again, Townsend. I'll knock before I come in this time."

"Sorry about that, Mr. Boudreaux."

"I've done worse," he said, his handsome features showing the boy still inside.

Townsend lay on Hennessey's bed, waiting for her friend to shower. Hennessey was singing and Townsend listened to her for a long time, thinking, Not a trained voice, but a darned nice one. I could listen to that voice for the rest of my life.

Hennessey came out while Townsend was still daydreaming. She was again dressed in very loose, lightweight clothes, the heat and humidity making them mandatory. She slid onto the bed next to Townsend, her clean, fresh scent making her friend's nose twitch.

"Mmm, you smell nice."

"No fish left?"

"You'd better let me check." Giving her a sexy grin, Townsend started to sniff all over Hennessey's long body. She noted that her friend didn't have on a stitch of underwear, and her mind started to wander, trying to think of ways to touch and taste some of that bare skin.

"Still checking?" Hennessey asked some time later.

"No." Townsend's face was nestled between Hennessey's breasts, unable to tear herself away. "I'm not sure I can lie with you like this and not …" She slid her fingers up the hem of Hennessey's shorts, creeping higher until a warm hand stopped her. "We can't get involved here, honey. I wish to God we could, but …"

"I know," Townsend said, sounding defeated. "The walls are awfully thin."

"I could drive down to Hilton Head and come back in the morning."

"What time do you and your Daddy take off?"

"6:00."

Townsend rubbed Hennessey's belly. "That doesn't sound very relaxing. I don't want you to leave my bed at 4:00 a.m. Once I get my hands on you, I'm gonna keep you for a good long time."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we kiss for a while, then go help your grandma in the kitchen. Then we can kiss a little more, and I'll go home."

"I like the kissing part," Hennessey said. "I like that a lot. The going home part sucks, though."

"I'll come back tomorrow night. That's something, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Hennessey said, smiling. "That's more than something."

The next night, Townsend showed up right on time, and this time she had good news. "I don't have to do anything tomorrow. Why don't I stay over and help you on the boat tomorrow?"

"Really? I'd love to have you! But I think we have to keep a little distance. Gramma wouldn't like it if we …"

"Hey, don't worry about that. We've got our whole lives in front of us, baby. One or two nights won't make a bit of a difference."

The pair started off as they intended, with Townsend on the box spring and Hennessey on the mattress on the floor. Hennessey didn't know what time it was, but some time during the night Townsend climbed in with her, and soon they were wrapped around each other, not even caring about the heat.

At 5:00 a.m., Hennessey's grandmother cracked the door open to wake the crew. What she saw made her gasp, but she forced herself to get past her discomfort and really look at her granddaughter.

Hennessey was on her side, with her head cradled on Townsend's shoulder. The smaller woman had both arms wrapped around Hennessey's waist, her hands clasped behind the brunette's back. Townsend's face was turned, her chin resting on Hennessey's dark head, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

The young women looked so perfectly content, their affection for each other so obvious, that she didn't have the heart to wake them. The boys can go out alone today. These two need some time together. She quietly laughed at herself. What's gotten into you? Next thing you know you'll be marching in one of those damned parades. She straightened her spine and sniffed, Over my dead body.

The sun crept across the open window, a light breeze wafting the sheer curtains. Townsend's eyes blinked open to find Hennessey smiling at her. "Are you awake, sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Townsend stretched and rolled her shoulders. "I feel like I slept in a phone booth."

"Let's put the mattress back on the bed and sleep for a while longer. You still look tired."

"Don't we have to be up?"

"No rush. We've got plenty of time."

Townsend was clearly still half-asleep. "'Kay." They rolled off the mattress and lifted it onto the box spring. "You sure we have time?"

"Uh huh. Positive." Hennessey got into bed and pulled Townsend on top of her. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll wake you up."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

The sun eventually shone directly onto Townsend's eyelids. With a little mew, she put a hand up and covered them, trying to ward off wakefulness. Hennessey smiled and put her hand above Townsend's, not touching her. After seeming to settle back into a deep sleep, the blonde woke with a start. "We have to get up!" She sat up, looking around with a stunned look on her face.

Hennessey put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. "No, we don't. We have the day off."

"But …"

"I know. But we can go fishing any time. Gramma took pity on us."

"Huh?"

"I woke up just after dawn and went downstairs to see why Gramma hadn't woken us up. She was making breakfast for Granddaddy, and she slapped me on the butt and said, 'Go back to your girl.'"

"Your girl?" Townsend started to laugh, sounding a little giddy.

Hennessey snuggled up to her partner and wrapped her in a tight hug. She nibbled on her neck and ears, making her shriek. "You're my girl and the whole world knows it. Even Gramma wants me to spend the day making love with you." She stopped her assault and smiled when she heard Townsend gasp.

"Your grandma wants us to make love. Your grandma wants us to make love."

Grinning, Hennessey rested her head on her hand and said, "Yup. And I always do what my grandma says. I'm a very good girl."

With a tiny frown, Townsend said, "Let me get this straight. We're in the same tiny bed. Neither one of us is involved with anyone else. We're both sexually experienced. My family loves you, and yours seems to love me." She grasped Hennessey's face with both of her hands, squishing her features together. "And now you're telling me that your grandma wants us to make love. What's wrong with this picture?"

"Uffin."

"What?" She released Hennessey's face. "Could you repeat that?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with this picture. This is where we're supposed to be. We have the whole day to ourselves." She put her hand on Townsend's hip, moving it in small circles. "Complaints?"

The blonde fell onto her back. "I … I'm speechless. I never, ever thought we'd finally be in bed together. Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

"Pretty sure. I'm wide awake. Every part of me is awake." She gave Townsend her sexiest smile and started to slide her hand up and down her side. "Wanna see?"

Townsend didn't reply immediately and Hennessey leaned over her, seeing the tiniest bit of indecision. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I don't know," Townsend said. "It's like it's too many good things all at once. I'm a little … scared, I guess."

"You can't have too many good things," Hennessey soothed. She trailed her finger across the small lines on Townsend's forehead. "It'll be fine, honey. We're finally where we've always wanted to be."

"I know," she said, her voice soft and a little tremulous. "What if we screw it up now?"

"Ohh, you poor thing. There's nothing to worry about. We won't screw up."

"Maybe you won't, but what if I do? I've never been able to be in a lasting relationship."

Hennessey nuzzled at her partner's neck. "Ours has been pretty lasting. Doesn't that count?"

"Yeah, sure that counts. But we haven't been sexual. Maybe I'm not very good, despite the fact that I've done it a thousand times. I wasn't good enough to keep Jenna interested, and Nicole wouldn't leave Boston for me. Who wouldn't choose Hilton Head over Boston?"

"A lunatic," Hennessey whispered, taking another tiny bite of Townsend's ear.

"I'm being serious," Townsend pouted. "I'm really nervous."

"Can I have a kiss?"

"Huh?"

"Can… I… have… a… kiss. Simple question."

"C'mere," Townsend said, giving her a small scowl. She put her arms around Hennessey and drew her close. Their lips met, and as she felt Hennessey's weight against her, some of her anxiety started to fade. She opened her mouth and welcomed her lover's warm, soft tongue inside. Hennessey tasted so fresh, so clean … "Hey! You brushed your teeth!"

"What a lovely kiss," Hennessey sighed. "I particularly liked it when you yelled into my ear."

Townsend grabbed her T-shirt and shook her playfully. "When did you brush your teeth?"

"When I took a shower," the brunette said. "Just because you can sleep all day, doesn't mean I'm lazy, too."

"We're alone?"

"Have been for hours. Literally."

Townsend scrambled over her partner, getting to her feet before Hennessey could stop her. "If you get a shower, I get a shower."

"Can I come with you? I'm very helpful."

"I just bet you are." Townsend grabbed her nose and gave it a tweak. "Maybe later. Right now I have to go give myself a pep talk. Don't go away."

Hennessey stretched out and put her hands behind her head. "Wouldn't think of it."

When Townsend came back into the bedroom, she put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "You've been in the kitchen."

"What makes you say that?" Hennessey was sipping a large glass of orange juice and eating a piece of toast smothered in jam.

"Give me a bite of that, you scamp. I specifically told you not to leave."

Extending the toast, Hennessey said, "You'll find that I'm housebroken, but not very obedient. I'm a headstrong little pup."

Townsend sat next to her and took a big bite. "Got more?"

"Uh huh. Brought a piece for you."

Townsend took the toast and started to chew, her mood reflective. "Are you sure we're ready for this?"

Hennessey moaned, shaking her head. "If you're being serious, I'm gonna jump out that window!"

Pushing her with her shoulder, Townsend said, "I'm being a little serious. You can jump off the bed."

"Baby, what's wrong? If there have ever been two people who deserve… who have earned… who are overdue to have sex, it's us! I've known you and loved you since God was a boy!"

Townsend absently patted her leg. "I know, I know. I'm just worried about finally having what I want. It's scary."

"It's also exciting," Hennessey said. "It's a reward for our patience, baby. We've earned the right to be together, and we're gonna be happy! I'm absolutely sure of that."

"You're sure?" For just a moment, Hennessey saw a glimmer of the frightened young woman she'd met so many years ago.

Kissing her tenderly, Hennessey stroked Townsend's face, soothing, "I'm absolutely positive. There isn't a doubt in my mind, sweetheart. We were made for each other, and it's time to face our destiny."

"Sounds kinda ominous," Townsend said.

"Okay. Let's go for romantic." Hennessey slid off the bed and knelt before Townsend. Taking the most beautiful hands she'd ever seen in her own, Hennessey looked deeply into her partner's eyes and said, "I knew you were the woman for me the first time I kissed you. I felt a jolt of heat that warmed my soul, Townsend, and I knew. I just knew. It's taken us so long to get to this point, but every step was worth it. Every time we stumbled, every time we hurt each other, brought us here." She kissed each of the shaking hands tenderly. "I love you with my whole heart — my very soul. And I promise that I always will. There aren't many things I'm sure of, but I'm sure of you — of us."

The tremors immediately stopped as Townsend clasped Hennessey's hands. She tugged on them, helping to pull her lover back onto the bed. "I think we've talked enough for one day. Let's do something more productive with our mouths."

In the blink of an eye, Hennessey was on her back, Townsend sprawled across her. "Romance drives me wild," she murmured, placing warm, wet kisses all over Hennessey's face.

"I can recite poetry," Hennessey gasped.

"Later. Much later." Townsend covered Hennessey's mouth with her own and kissed her with all of the love she felt in her heart. "I love you so much," she sighed between kisses. "So very much."

Hennessey tightened her hold and rolled onto her side, taking Townsend with her. Her hands roamed up and down the trim, muscular body, the soft cotton of T-shirt and boxers gliding across hidden skin. As Townsend increased the intensity of her kisses, Hennessey's fingers crept up under the shirt, a dull throb building between her legs when she touched the silky skin. "Mmmmm," was all she could manage, but Townsend understood her perfectly. Kissing her hard, Townsend sat up and grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor.

Hennessey's eyes grew wide with surprise when Townsend lowered herself back down, shifting so that her nipple was gently placed into Hennessey's open mouth. The brunette grasped her partner firmly, moaning as she suckled on the firming flesh. Townsend squirmed and sighed, running her fingers through Hennessey's black hair, her arousal escalating as she watched her lover lavish such tender care on her sensitive breast.

Trying to speak with her mouth full of the succulent flesh, Hennessey mumbled, "Wonnerfu."

"Oh, baby," Townsend purred. "I love your voice and I love to hear you talk, but we can talk later. Keep that beautiful mouth busy."

Lifting her head, Hennessey grinned at her. "Sorry. I just had to tell you how wonderful your body tastes and feels. You're everything I knew you'd be."

Townsend lifted her other breast and popped it into her lover's mouth. "Love now. Talk later."

Hennessey couldn't keep the smile from her face, but she followed instructions, soon finding that she didn't want to talk anymore, either. She sucked and licked and kissed the beautiful breasts, making Townsend squirm and sigh. Her own breasts were tingling, and she pulled away just long enough to yank her own shirt off. She placed her own breasts against Townsend's hot, wet flesh, mashing them together while she ground against her.

The pressure was maddening, but Townsend wanted — needed — more. She wrapped her legs around Hennessey's back, thrusting her hips slowly, her teeth grinding in frustration.

The brunette rolled fully onto her back and stuck her thumbs into Townsend's shorts, whisking them off. She filled her hands with the smooth, full cheeks, squeezing them hard. Her mouth was so full she couldn't manage a word, but her throaty groans gave Townsend all the feedback she needed.

Using her strong thighs, Townsend flipped over, taking Hennessey for an unexpected ride. The bright blue eyes popped open, staring in amazement when her world turned over. Now that she had her where she wanted her, Townsend returned the favor, taking the brunette's panties off with a flourish.

Two completely naked women started to move against each other, their skin covered with a light sheen of sweat. The bed was small, but they managed to hold each other in a crushing embrace, rolling from side to side as they delighted in the feel of the other’s body.

Hennessey couldn't wait another moment, so she slid her hand between their bodies, making her way down Townsend's firm belly, past her fair curls, managing to slip between her legs. By instinct, Townsend lifted her leg and threw it over Hennessey's hips, opening herself up to her lover's touch.

Lifting her head again, Hennessey gazed at her lover, sharing her feelings with only her eyes. Their lips met as Hennessey's nimble fingers touched Townsend's warmth for the very first time. With a ferocious hug, Townsend held onto her partner with all of her might, urging her on with the softest whimper.

Hennessey indulged herself in the delights of Townsend's womanhood, letting her fingers play over every swell and valley of the pink flesh. She kept her touch gentle and unfocused, trying to prolong the sensation as much as possible. Teasing, gliding over the incredibly sensitive skin, she taunted Townsend until she was mad with desire. The blonde pushed against her, trying to force Hennessey to quicken her pace, but all Hennessey did was increase the depth of her kisses, making Townsend so breathless that she could only groan in frustration.

Finally, Hennessey started to explore her depths, sliding a finger into Townsend so slowly that the blonde wanted to scream. But when the long digit was deep within her, she purred with pleasure, mumbling through the kisses, "More."

Keeping her on the edge of full satisfaction, Hennessey started to tease all around Townsend's clit, never touching it directly. She pulled and pinched the delicate lips, until Townsend started to hump against her, her body covered in sweat. "Please," she gasped. "Please."

Hennessey kissed her again, sucking on her lower lip, tasting the salty tang of her. "I'll always please you, baby. Always."

As she spoke, she slid another finger into her, moving quickly to bury it deep. Townsend gasped, her hips bucking at the pressure. She held on as tight as she could, her arms having trouble keeping hold of Hennessey's wet back. "So close. So close!"

Hennessey slid yet another finger inside, feeling the slick tightness of her lover's flesh as it pulsed around her hand. Then she withdrew, trailing the wet digit down until it barely touched Townsend's ass. She looked into the half-shuttered eyes silently asking the question. In response, Townsend grabbed her hand and pushed, sending all of Hennessey's fingers into their respective homes. The blonde growled and sunk her teeth into Hennessey's shoulder, marking her.

Trying to stay focused despite her painfully throbbing cunt, Hennessey placed the flat of her thumb just above Townsend's clit. She started to rock her hand, her thumb gliding over the bundle of nerves while her fingers pumped into her lover.

The words coming from the blonde were complete gibberish -- part cry, part grunt, with a few malformed syllables thrown in. But Hennessey took them as sweet encouragement. Her hand continued to rock, slowly, slowly touching, stroking and thrusting into every part of Townsend's body.

Her own need was so great that Hennessey couldn't ignore it any longer. She wedged Townsend's thigh between her legs and started to thrust her hips, the feel of the silky skin driving her mad.

The pressure built and built, climbing higher and higher until Townsend was sure she would burst. All at once it hit her, and she sucked in a breath, making her back arch off the bed. She cried out while gripping fistfuls of sheet, then exhaled, sounding like she was being shaken hard. Her nerveless arms struggled to hold her lover to her, but she couldn't summon enough strength to clasp her hands together.

With just a few more quick thrusts, Hennessey climaxed noisily, growling and hissing out a "Yes!" through her clenched teeth.

Falling onto her back like a felled tree, Hennessey lay next to lover, winded and weak, sweat covering her body. "Who needs a nap?" she mumbled.

Townsend answered by plastering herself against her partner's side, murmuring, "Will you promise to do that to me every day?"

"Every day?" Hennessey asked, adding a soft laugh.

"Every single day," Townsend said. "Promise."

"I promise," Hennessey agreed. "I might be able to improve on that, though."

"Okay," Townsend relented. "That's the minimum, but if you can do better …"

"Let's try again after that nap," Hennessey said, yawning.

Townsend lay near her partner and rested a hand on her belly. Hennessey was almost asleep when the blonde said, "You have a very cute tummy."

"Mmm hmm," Hennessey burred, eyes still shut tight.

"Your hip bones shouldn't stick out so much, though. You need to gain a little weight."

"Will do. Get right on it." The bed shifted and Hennessey felt Townsend moving around. Suddenly, her breast was being gently loved. "Whatcha doin?" the brunette asked.

"You can't leave something this pretty lying around and expect me to behave. I'm only human."

Opening her eyes, Hennessey put her hands behind her head and watched Townsend kiss and nibble on her entire torso. "I guess we can always nap later, huh?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Sleep is highly overrated."

"Mmm hmm."

"Hey, where ya goin? Ooo … that's a nice place."

"Mmmmmmm hmmmmmm." Townsend lifted her head and licked her lips. "I'm gonna spend a lot of time down here."

"Don't let me rush you," Hennessey said, lying down and sighing deeply. "Oh, that's nice. Very nice." Townsend continued to lave her partner's essence, soon rendering Hennessey unable to form complete words. Flat on her back, legs spread wide, Hennessey's hips undulated in a slow circle. Townsend kept pace with her, swirling her tongue in time with her lover's movements.

When Hennessey started moving quicker, so did Townsend, exerting a little more pressure. Blindly, Hennessey reached down and grabbed one of her partner's hands, then moved it below Townsend's chin. The blonde knew just what Hennessey wanted, and she slid into her, gently placing her fingers just inside Hennessey's opening. Putting pressure on various points, she worked her way around like the hands on a clock. When her fingers reached twelve, Hennessey gurgled something and started to pump her hips — hard. In seconds, she was crying out, holding onto Townsend's shoulders — wanting to pull her in harder and push her away at the same time. She bucked and shuddered, finally pulling on Townsend until the blonde climbed up her body and cuddled her. They held each other for a long time, with Hennessey's heart slowly resuming its normal beat.

Townsend closed her eyes and started to drift off, with the breeze coming in the window cooling her heated skin. "Don't wanna stop," she murmured.

Hennessey's quiet voice drifted past her ear. "It's not even 10:00 a.m. We've just begun."

Townsend sat up a little, and gazed at her partner. Hennessey gave her a puzzled smile, that soon formed into a full, rich one. There so much love shining in her eyes that Townsend was moved beyond words. Wrapping her arms around Hennessey, she kissed her, lingering for a long while, tasting her sweet lips and tongue. "We have just begun," she said softly, nuzzling her face into Hennessey's neck. "We've loved each other for years, but our lives begin again today."

"Here's to our new beginning," Hennessey said, kissing her partner again. "A lifetime of new beginnings."