Part 2
"Are you all right?" Miranda asked carefully as she automatically stepped forward, surprised not only that she had broken the silence but that she had uttered those words. She wanted to know, though. Andrea looked beaten up. Her shoulders were rounded, and her eyes were haunted. Miranda did not like it. Where was the woman who stood up for herself, the one who believed in herself?
"I…I don't know," Andrea whispered. She looked away and, as Miranda had a moment ago, drew in a deep breath. "You always did have impeccable timing, Miranda." Andrea looked back with a tremulous smile.
Before her mind could catch up with her, Miranda was in front of Andrea, so close she could see the freckles on Andrea's shoulders. With a sigh, Miranda pulled Andrea into a hug, ignoring how the woman became rigid before melting into the embrace. Miranda held her tightly and was gratified to feel strong arms wind around her waist. Miranda breathed in the heady scent of lavender, brine, suntan lotion, and Andrea. She felt Andrea burrow her head into the crook of her neck, felt the woman tremble as the first sobs broke free. Miranda held her tighter, trying to communicate to Andrea that she was safe, that she could trust her.
This feeling of protectiveness did not surprise Miranda. Although she had fought her feelings viciously, they had waited patiently just out of reach. She cared for this woman. Seeing her so obviously distraught did not sit well with Miranda. If she could provide comfort for even a few moments, she would. As Andrea's cries wound down, Miranda realized she had been rubbing Andrea's back soothingly while murmuring nonsense phrases—it's all right, you're okay, it will get better, don't worry—phrases she had used countless times with her girls when they had needed comfort.
She could feel Andrea calming while in her arms, and Miranda rejoiced in the feeling, in knowing that she had helped. She did not lend herself to others in this way often—really just to her daughters. She could not remember the last time she had provided such comfort and support to another adult. The irony that she was providing it to Andrea was not lost on her. After all, hadn't she hurt Andrea many times during their association? Hadn't she bruised her tender heart so badly that she had walked away?
Today seemed to be a test in believing in the unexpected, the unimaginable, and accepting them as they presented themselves. Feeling Andrea stir, Miranda was unsure what to do. She did not want to discuss anything just yet. She did not want to face their past or even explain her presence on this island. She just wanted to hold Andrea and believe the nonsense phrases she had uttered to Andrea mere moments ago.
"I don't want to let go," Andrea whispered.
Miranda gasped, hearing her wishes spoken aloud. She tightened her arms, one hand coming to rest on Andrea's lower back while the other one found a home at the base of her lovely neck, covered by the chocolate forest of Andrea's fragrant hair. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she felt Andrea's hands tighten, grabbing on to her back as if she were afraid Miranda would disappear unless she held on securely.
She could feel her emotions spiraling out of control. What she wanted, what she felt, how she had missed Andrea all these months, all these emotions swirled like a maelstrom, and Miranda was the little toy sailboat being propelled by the forceful current.
"Andrea," she whispered. Miranda had not felt so befuddled, so unsure as to what her next actions should be, in years. So, she did nothing except hold the beautiful woman for as long as she was allowed.
Eventually, Andrea pulled back to look into Miranda's eyes. She didn't know what Andrea was looking for, but Miranda withstood the scrutiny silently. "How much did you hear?" Andrea asked in a low voice.
"Just the tail end. I am sorry to have interrupted. I know how mortifying it can feel," Miranda said. She remembered when Andrea had witnessed one of Miranda's many arguments with Stephen. Miranda had felt so vulnerable, so powerless, and so embarrassed. She had punished Andrea the next day. She had wanted Andrea to feel as she had, wanted her to suffer. Andrea had surprised her, impressed her, though, by obtaining the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript—Miranda's unreasonable demand the day following Andrea's unwitting and unwanted intrusion.
Andrea's chuckle lit up her face. "Yes, and I know how it feels to witness it." She smiled warmly. "Well," she said. "Let's get you settled. Emily won't return until the morning, and you must be getting hungry." She released Miranda and turned toward the cabin's backdoor.
"Why won't Emily be back today?" Miranda asked as she followed Andrea into the cabin. It had a homey feel to it. Old, wooden furniture—chairs, an ancient couch, and a bookshelf—decorated the large main room. Books, magazines, puzzles, cards—all forms of entertainment littered the area. No electronics. No lights—just hurricane lamps and candles. A large brick fireplace was stacked with wood waiting to be lit.
Turning, Miranda saw a large cooler. Dried goods were stacked on top of the counter, and in the sink sat a large pot filled with water. Leaning forward, she saw lobsters moving slowly within its confines.
"High tide will be here in about an hour, and then it will be dark. Unless it's a medical emergency, no one will want to venture over here until the morning. Don't worry, though, there are two bedrooms here, and a bathroom with a solar shower. I have some spare clothes you can change into so that you won't ruin those, and we can have the freshest lobster for dinner that you've ever eaten," Andrea said. When Miranda did not reply, she added, "You do like lobster, don't you?"
Nodding, Miranda tried not to let her imagination carry her away. Alone on an island with Andrea, just as she had wished earlier. What other wishes might come true? "I do," she answered, then cursed herself silently for how low and sultry her voice sounded. Clearing her throat, Miranda wandered around the space. "This is a nice cabin, Andrea. Have you owned it long?"
"No. Nate moved to Boston for a sous-chef position right around the time I joined the Mirror, and we decided to try to salvage our relationship. I came up to visit each month, and a few months ago, we visited here with one of Nate's colleagues. Ben's an older guy, and he'd owned this place for decades. He said he was moving to Florida, and he wanted to give the place to someone who'd take care of it." Andrea looked out the window toward the ocean, a contemplative look on her face.
"He gave this to you?" Miranda prodded when Andrea said no more.
"Yup. Nate didn't want it, so Ben conveyed it to only me. Good thing, I guess. I get the feeling Nate won't be back. It's probably lucky for me you came here when you did. Otherwise I might be stranded here alone."
"And instead you are stranded here with me. Yes, you are lucky indeed," Miranda delivered dryly while rolling her eyes. Andrea's laugh made the joke worthwhile. "What's the island called?"
"Tinker's Island. As you already know, it has no telephone. It also has no electricity or plumbing. We bring in what we need and take off the trash. But it's a nice break from the fast-paced world we live in."
Miranda nodded and looked around once more. It was a cozy place, certainly ideal for short getaways. "Let me get you something to wear," Andrea interrupted Miranda's thoughts and disappeared into another room.
Miranda pursed her lips. All this time, Miranda had lived with the decision not to pursue Andrea. She had thought it was the best choice for all concerned. When Andrea had quit, Miranda had just received divorce papers from Stephen. She had not trusted herself or her motivations for wanting Andrea near. Using her would have been unconscionable. Regardless of her public persona and well-known reputation, she refused to hurt Andrea in that way. Yet, nine months had passed, and those feelings had roared back, demanding she listen this time, as soon as she saw Andrea again. And holding Andrea in her arms felt divine.
"Here you go." Andrea handed her some jeans and a t-shirt while placing a pair of water shoes before her. "I know it's a far cry from couture, but they are comfortable. Oh, and the jeans are probably too big. You know, fat girl," she said as she indicated herself nervously.
Miranda regarded Andrea pensively. "I should not have said that. You are certainly not fat. You are merely not model-thin. But you know," Miranda continued as she unfolded the clothes and looked at them carefully, "many celebrities are also not model-thin. There is a trend moving toward more realistic sizes. And you are as beautiful as any celebrity who has graced our cover."
Miranda smiled slightly, seeing Andrea's slack-jawed reaction.
"Where can I change?" Miranda prompted after enjoying the fiery glow gracing Andrea's cheeks for several moments. Andrea silently pointed toward a door on the other side of the living room.
Alone for the moment, Miranda looked around a small bedroom with a chest of wooden drawers and a bookcase filled with books. Of course. She smiled. Every room had bookcases overflowing with books, it seemed. Miranda disrobed and pulled the jeans on. Levis. Not too bad. Certainly comfortable. And the roominess at the waist allowed it to rest low on her hips. She rolled up the cuffs, amused by how long Andrea's pants were on her. Pulling the t-shirt over her head, she felt a bit dizzy as she smelled Andrea's scent. It surrounded her. The t-shirt was old and faded. Obviously, well-loved. She wondered whether she could somehow keep these clothes. She could well imagine watching Emily hyperventilate once she saw Miranda wearing them.
Exiting the room, Miranda found Andrea in the small kitchen. She leaned against the doorjamb watching as Andrea removed the lobsters from the pot, placing them on the counter, and dumped the water before refilling it. Picking up the two lobsters, Andrea looked over her shoulder and froze, surprise and pleasure reflected on her expressive face.
"You look—I mean, they seem to be doing the trick," Andrea stumbled, her face once more turning red.
Miranda smiled fully, unable to resist. The tableau of Andrea, hands filled with snapping lobsters, staring at her with unabashed appreciation caused Miranda to feel the tension roll off her shoulders. This is what she had missed—honest emotion.
"Yes, they are quite comfortable. Thank you, Andrea." Miranda pushed off the doorjamb and stepped forward, only a few feet from Andrea. "May I help?"
Looking flabbergasted, Andrea stuttered, "Uh, um, no-no, that's okay. You can just—yeah."
Pleased by her response, Miranda smirked again. "Very well. I will just 'yeah,' as you suggested," she teased. Her smirk broadened into a smile, soaking in the tension between them, knowing it was a good indication that Andrea was attracted to her.
Andrea turned and placed the lobsters in the sink, then picked up the full pot. Understanding what she was attempting, Miranda quickly stepped toward the screen door and pushed it open with one hand so that Andrea could walk outside. Andrea was forced to pass by closely, and both gasped at the proximity. Miranda followed and stood next to the cabin as she watched Andrea carry the pot over to the fire pit. She ignited the wood and set-up a platform upon which to rest the pot. After a few minutes of fiddling, she straightened up, taking several breaths and squaring her shoulders before turning to Miranda.
Miranda tilted her head, arms crossed, as she wondered what Andrea would do next. She watched Andrea wet her lips nervously before approaching Miranda.
"Miranda," she said quietly once she reached her. Miranda held her breath as Andrea extended a trembling hand and grazed her cheek with the back of her fingers. Miranda stared deeply into those amber eyes and saw the affection, the desire, the fear.
She closed her eyes, relishing in the hesitant touch. Her eyes fluttered open a moment later when the touch stopped. Andrea seemed so uncertain.
"Andrea," Miranda said. "Tell me what you are feeling." She captured Andrea's hand with her own, the hand that had just touched her, as she gazed into dark eyes. She could feel tingling extending out from that hand up her arm, across her chest and down between her legs. The energy invigorated her, empowered her, stimulated her.
"I…I've missed you, Miranda. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done, and I've regretted it every day since." Andrea shifted her eyes away.
"What is it you regret? No longer retrieving my coffee, no longer running around town to pick up couture, or no longer delivering my dry cleaning, Andrea?" Miranda said with a smile.
Andrea's eyes flew back to look at Miranda incredulously before her face split into a wide grin. "Well, not that so much. But I didn't say I missed the job, just you."
"Mm. That is quite a distinction. And what exactly did you miss about me? My constant demands, my witty barbs, my disapproving glares?" Miranda hadn't exactly treated Andrea well. She found it hard to believe that Andrea had missed her.
"It's true that you were a harsh taskmaster, but you were my boss. I was supposed to do my job perfectly, and you do not suffer fools gladly. I learned what a work ethic is all about from you, and how my personal code of ethics might conflict with my aspirations. I know walking away was unprofessional—I know I should have just given my notice, but that last lesson was hard to accept."
Miranda felt a chill sweep through her. To think that Andrea would judge her, deem her actions in Paris as unethical and unacceptable, angered her. She had been fighting for her job, her livelihood. When Irv Ravitz, CEO of Elias-Clarke, had conspired to push her out of her position as editor-in-chief of Runway, Miranda had taken decisive actions to protect herself. It had been unfortunate that Nigel had lost his dream job in the process, but Miranda had needed to give his new position to the person Irv had planned to use as her replacement. Nigel understood how cutthroat their industry was. He harbored no ill-will. What right did Andrea have to hold that event against her? She dropped Andrea's hand with the intent of walking away. Andrea apparently had other ideas, though.
"Oh, no, you don't!" she exclaimed as Miranda found herself pinned against the side of the cabin. "You'll listen to this. Besides, where are you planning on running? This is an island, Miranda. Just, just listen for a minute, will you?" Andrea said heatedly. Miranda nodded slightly and felt Andrea's hold loosen, although she kept a hand on her arm.
"Say what you will, but I refuse to explain what happened in Paris. It was necessary. We can't always do what we want to do. Sometimes we have to make the hard choices, the choices that may hurt others." Miranda cursed under her breath. Here she had just proclaimed that she would not explain herself and then she had proceeded to do so.
"I know. I understand what happened, why it happened. And I realized that you would not have hurt Nigel if you could have avoided it. But I didn't have all the facts then. And I was still at the beginning of my education, of learning what it means to be a part of the business world. Nothing is clear cut, and nothing is easy. People aren't always nice, and if you mess up, you're done."
Andrea loosened her hold even more and softened her voice. "But you didn't ruin me when I messed up. You weren't cruel even though you had every reason to be. You gave me a recommendation, instead. That action showed me more than anything else that business and personal ethics sometimes conflict because of our emotions. You chose not to hurt me. You made a personal choice."
"Perhaps I chose not to ruin your career so that you would be indebted to me," Miranda challenged.
Miranda watched uncertainty flicker and fade away in Andrea's eyes. "No. That's not why you did it. You care about me. And even though I expressed my ethics poorly, you admired my willingness to walk away from a road that might have led me to write for any magazine I wanted."
"It would have. After one year you could have written for anyone. It will take you longer now. However, your writing is good. You will go far, Andrea Sachs. You do not need my name to smooth the way." Miranda gently pushed aside some hair that had fallen in front of a glowing eye and cupped a cheek. "Are we done sorting out the past now, Andrea?" She watched Andrea nod. "Good. I believe you promised me a lobster dinner."
After another minute where they stared at each other, Andrea surprised Miranda by tightening the hold on her arm and pulling her in for a quick hug. Miranda smiled as she felt Andrea's other arm slide around her waist and squeeze. Before Miranda could respond, she felt herself released.
They walked over to the boiling water in companionable silence. "I'll go get the lobsters. Be right back," Andrea said softly. Miranda remained outside, enjoying the slight breeze. The temperature had dropped a bit as sunset approached. So had the wind. Miranda couldn't remember the last time she had been able to just enjoy the peacefulness of a summer afternoon. She was glad that she was able to share it with Andrea, Andrea who obviously had feelings for her. Miranda felt a thrill overtake her.
"Here we go," Andrea said as she carefully placed the lobsters in the pot to boil. "It's a bit barbaric, I know. Some people get really upset about boiling live lobsters, but I just think about how good it's going to taste."
Miranda chuckled. "I assure you, I do not have that problem."
"Oh, good. I'm going to get the butter to melt and set up the picnic table. This won't take long. You can just enjoy the weather. I'll be right back." Andrea left to finish her self-appointed tasks.
Spying a large boulder nearby, Miranda sat on it and closed her eyes, head tilted back to feel the sun fully on her face. She did not often indulge in sunbathing. She usually slathered sunscreen over her pale skin to protect it. She doubted her skin would tan much, if at all, from any exposure this late in the day. The sun's caress was relaxing, though, and she enjoyed the freedom of sitting silently while she had no responsibilities to fulfill.
An undetermined time later, as Miranda's mind wandered over countless subjects without dwelling on any of them, she heard Andrea's soft voice close by. "The lobsters are ready." Opening an eye, she saw Andrea standing in front of her, a tender look in her eyes. Miranda was charmed by the extended hand, and she took it, allowing Andrea to pull her off the rock. They stood closely for a moment before turning and walking, hands still linked, to the table.
The table was set with paper plates, lobster crackers, picks, mallets, small buckets, napkins, and bibs. Two bowls were filled with melted butter. Miranda could feel her cholesterol rising just by viewing the meal. Bottled water and Chalone 2003 Pinot Blanc, an acceptable California wine, were positioned off to the side.
Not having actually eaten shelled lobster before, Miranda took her cues from Andrea, who caught on quickly and gallantly offered to crack the lobster. Miranda, however, would not be deprived of the experience by allowing Andrea to do it.
Working to crack and hammer the lobster, pick out the meat, and dip each bite made the meal extremely satisfying. At one point some juice squirted out and hit her in the face. Andrea's look of horror tickled her funny bone, and Miranda could not help but laugh. This entire sequence of events was entirely out of her normal realm of existence. Andrea surprised her by reaching over with a napkin and gently wiping away the moisture.
"God, you are beautiful," Andrea whispered.
"With lobster juice all over my face," Miranda scoffed.
"With lobster juice all over your face," Andrea echoed softly. Miranda got lost in the moment, in the open eyes and soft touch.
They finished the meal with many searching looks and careful flirting. Miranda was confident that Andrea was interested, but she could not afford to make a mistake. It did not help that Andrea had just ended a relationship. Just as she had not wished to pursue Andrea directly after her relationship with Stephen had ended, so she did not want to be the recipient of misplaced emotion now that Andrea had broken up with Nate.
As if hearing her thoughts, Andrea said, "My relationship with Nate ended a long time ago, even before Paris. We kept trying, but I had changed too much. He wanted me to change back to the old Andy, the one who liked to get drunk and party, the one who made fun of people we didn't know or understand, the one who could talk about things that interested him. But I liked who I was becoming. I couldn't undo what I had learned, and I didn't want to."
"You should not have to change in order to keep someone's love, Andrea," Miranda murmured.
"I know. But he doesn't. Or maybe he does, but he just doesn't want to accept that I am different now and we can't go back." Andrea sipped her wine as she thought for a moment. Miranda did not break the silence, knowing that Andrea had more to say.
"He claimed that I was hung up on you. He thought once I left Runway that I would move on and we could work on the relationship. It didn't help that he'd moved here, but distance really shouldn't matter, not when you love someone." Miranda watched as Andrea swallowed nervously. "He was right," she said so softly that Miranda had to lean forward to hear. "I was drawn to you, and once I no longer saw you, I grieved. So, I have missed you, Miranda—your energy, your essence, your brilliance, your work ethic, even your sharp eyes and even sharper tongue. I am so glad to see you, and I hope that I'll get to see you again once we are back in the City."
Miranda gazed at Andrea for several moments, recognizing that she seemed braced for the worst. Miranda could not help but admire her willingness to risk her heart. Placing a hand on Andrea's where it rested on the table, Miranda said, "We will see each other again, Andrea, if that is what you desire. But you must know that I will not allow you to walk away again so easily." Miranda held Andrea's eyes, watching as she began to believe Miranda's words. The blinding smile Miranda received a moment later made her heart skip.
"Right," Andrea breathed. She nodded. "I won't walk away again. I promise." She turned her hand over and squeezed Miranda's hand. They smiled at each other.
