Chapter Ten
"How can I help you?!" Perkiness to the point of pain. The young barista smiled, so hopeful. So innocent.
Maura felt the biting sarcasm rolling off Jane in waves, begging for release. She gave Jane a side-glare of warning. Behave yourself. Be nice.
Jane's begrudging Fine came as an eyebrow raise and a long-suffering sigh.
Maura stepped up to the smiling barista and felt her cheeks grow with a return smile of her own. The gesture was small, but natural, and that in itself spoke volumes. It felt good to smile and mean it. She ordered her usual latte with soymilk and added a dash of cinnamon, a salad, and half-sandwich before letting Jane order for herself.
Jane drummed her fingers along the counter, eyes on the menu as she pulled her wallet from her back pocket. "Half turkey on rye, and a salad. Italian dressing."
Salad? Maura turned in surprise as Jane paid.
"I've got the next one," Maura assured, and Jane nodded in response, expression hidden behind a curtain of hair.
Maura watched, pensive, as Jane gave the barista a cursory parting smile.
"I'm not trying to change you, Jane."
Jane took their number and headed toward their still empty table.
"I know." She spun the ringed stand around her finger, the large 28 looping a tilt-a-whirl. "Maybe I like a little change once in a while." She grinned over her shoulder as she pushed the door open, the humor lightening her eyes. "Good for me."
Maura followed outside, dissecting Jane's words.
Occasionally Maura felt like eggshells, afraid some small misstep – a wrong word, a touch unwelcome – would send things spiraling back to the dark place they were before. She watched Jane as she strode ahead, the long strides, the set of her shoulders.
The press of those shoulders, solid and strong, into her own…
But then there were those shining moments, brief yet powerful, where Maura was sure whatever bridge they had traversed meant nothing could break them again. Left them stronger for the parting.
They stopped in front of the selected patio table. In the center, Jane's shield held down a napkin, which held the scrawled words, Reserved – Boston Police Department, then under it in smaller letters, Do not remove under penalty of law.
Maura couldn't hold in her laugh. "The mattress tag phrase?"
Jane shrugged, arms rising from her sides. "What? Worked, didn't it?" She smirked as they sat, crumpling up the napkin and clipping her shield back to her belt.
The patio space was open, quiet despite the road noise. Maura pulled her coat tighter against the chill in the air, but she welcomed the cold if it meant relative solitude. The chance to chase away any lingering anxiety. Even though it lurked – even now she felt a small twist of fear at its resurgence – the setting and present company helped her forget. For a while. And for that she was grateful.
She leaned back with a sigh and relaxed into the present. Her eyes traced along the busy passerby, watching colors merge and separate, the different shapes and sizes. She noted a few outfits that stood out, a cut or a design she may want to try herself.
A server brought rolled silverware, murmuring reassurances their food would be out shortly. Maura nodded absently and heard Jane make some comment, but a black car caught her eye.
Shifting to the side to see around an umbrella at a neighboring table, she spied the unmarked crown vic down the street. Her lips twitched as she held back a smile. A piece of that former thrill sizzled through her. It felt good, knowing something others didn't. The sensation brought with it a sense of power – and fun, in this instance.
When she face forward again, she was met with knowing brown eyes. Maura swallowed and attempted to keep her expression neutral.
Jane sat, elbows on table, hands loosely clasped, fork dangling between two fingers. She rolled her tongue over her teeth, contemplative, and Maura felt a stab of trepidation at the mischievous I-know-what-you-did expression.
Innocent, Maura met her gaze evenly and tilted her head. "What?"
As if coming to a decision, Jane nodded once and pointed with her fork. "You made Frankie, didn't you?"
Despite her best attempts at maintaining a straight face, clearly her expression said as much, because Jane dropped her fork and leaned back in her seat with a laugh. "I knew it. I knew it. I told him to stay back further, but nooo, mister I-know-better had to stick with his own tactics. Well, we'll see how he feels about that tomorrow."
Maura broke her perfect posture and leaned forward. "Don't. I promised I wouldn't tell."
Jane raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips at this information. "And you didn't."
A server arrived and Jane leaned back in her chair as he deposited their respective baskets on their table, grabbing the 28 with a nod and a low "Enjoy," which Maura returned with a smile in thanks.
"I guessed," Jane continued, once he had left. "And you…confirmed it." She appeared satisfied with that logic as she opened a bag of chips and noisily took a bite.
Maura frowned at the smirk tossed her way. "What are you going to do?"
Jane waved a hand as she picked up her fork to stab at her salad. "Don't worry 'bout it. It's between me and him."
Maura narrowed her eyes, dubious. She watched Jane for several minutes, gaze unwavering, until Jane caved and met her eyes again.
She scoffed and raised a hand. "Fine. I'm not gonna hurt him, okay?"
Maura smiled, satisfied. "Okay."
They ate in silence, save for the crunching of lettuce and the occasional chip on Jane's end. Maura caught bits and pieces of conversations from other tables and occupied herself with imagining the lives of others. Imagining the normalcy of everyday problems that didn't involve—
She cut off the thought before it ruined her good mood.
At some point, the chip bag had made its way to her side of the table, open end facing her in invitation, still half-full. She stopped mid-chew to look at Jane, about to chastise her for the offered temptation. But Jane's head was turned, watching something with mild interest.
Maura followed Jane's gaze and saw two women sitting opposite across the street. They appeared in deep conversation, one talking and the other smiling. If their body language was any indication, they were comfortable together. Friends.
Maura glanced at Jane. Not unlike what she and Jane had together. The thought brought a smile. At Jane's continued scrutiny, and the slight shift of her features into an expression she couldn't place, Maura returned her attention to the women.
One woman leaned over the table, a hand rising to gently cup the other's jaw, and their lips met in a short but tender kiss. Maura blinked and her mind seemed to shuffle, reassessing all her other observations, assigning new meaning. Despite the whirring in the background, one thought predominated: they made a beautiful couple. Lacking the stereotypical gender roles assigned to many lesbian relationships. The thought brought her back to her women's studies class during her stint at BCU.
That had opened new doors in her mind. Ones she hadn't visited in many years. She briefly retraced some of those old patterns of thought, half-interest and half-nostalgia, before she shook her head and returned to the present.
Maura turned her attention to Jane once more, who seemed to be struggling with some flare of emotion. Her eyebrows waged a brief battle, lips pressed together, and then as though wiping a chalkboard clean, her face smoothed into something resembling…stunned surprise. She did not expect the rapid blink of eyelids, followed by a breathless laugh.
The couple held hands as they rose and headed down the sidewalk. One bumped the other in the shoulder, and the other bumped back.
Jane turned back to Maura and smiled. It was a soft smile, an expression of happiness. Contentment. Jane resumed eating as though nothing had happened.
Maura stared, feeling as though she had missed an important piece of information. Jane's reaction, the similarity, the comparison she herself had made. The shoulder bumping. Her mind stuttered over the memory. The parallel snagged in her brain, refusing to dissipate. Until—
"We sin."
Maura's head jerked up. "Pardon?" Sharp. Warning.
If Jane felt the jab in the inquiry, she didn't show it. Jane was frowning across the street. "We sin," she repeated.
Indignation surged. But then she turned and saw what had caught Jane's attention. A sign for the restaurant across the street sported the name Oisin in cursive. Red and green accents stylized the font, and Maura took a moment to admire the artistic display.
"Ah," she said, turning back around and selecting another forkful of salad. "It's pronounced OH-sheen. It's Gaelic."
Jane straightened and rested her forearms along the table, one eyebrow rising. Her expression held a mixture of playful and impressed. "Right. And you just happen to know Gaelic…"
Maura gave her a look, choosing not to take the bait. "There's an Irish legend centered around a man called Oisin. It means young deer, or fawn." She tapped a nail against her lips. "In fact it was his mother who was turned into a deer by a druid, if I recall."
Jane chuckled. "Nice name for a restaurant. Fawn."
She ignored Jane's sarcasm, because there was something much softer in the brown eyes that searched and found hers. Something that tilted her off balance and brought blood rushing to her cheeks.
Hot-cold. Now it was definitely leaning towards the former.
"It's mythology. And etymology," she said, distracting herself with the remnants of her lunch. "You would be surprised what is possible to learn from history and other cultures."
"You make me want to be better."
Jane appeared just as surprised at the statement as Maura. Her fist clenched as she slowly leaned back in her chair. Maura suspected that face burned with more than a chill from the cold. It was rare Maura saw Jane blush. She wondered why this, of all things, would bring it out.
Careful, Maura warned. Careful. She took a sip of drink, trying to process, trying to decide how to respond.
"Sorry," Jane muttered, glancing away. She saw the silent chastisement. Her jaw clenched and she refused to meet Maura's eyes. Maura's gaze flicked down to the still clenched fist. Those hands had to ache in this weather.
She tilted her head, deciding to go with blatant honesty. "There's no need to apologize. I appreciate it." She leaned forward, and that finally earned her eye contact once more. The brief flash of turmoil she saw made the words catch in her throat. She paused, reevaluating. How did Jane always make her feel she was missing part of the conversation these days? "But I hope you know that you are already 'good' enough. Just the way you are."
Dark eyes held hers, and Maura watched tense shoulders slowly ease. She rolled them and shifted, glanced down.
"Yeah, well." Jane cleared her throat, and Maura braced herself for the deflective sarcasm. Instead, she got a small smile. "Thanks."
The smile turned almost bashful as Jane tapped a finger against the table, eyes watching the movement.
Maura tried to wrap her mind around this moment, this Jane. It felt surreal. You make me want to be better. The words moved sluggishly through her thoughts, refusing to abate. She looked at Jane's baskets. Only half the salad was gone, while the sandwich and chips were demolished. Better… Maura hid a smile. It was progress.
Jane leaned forward, mirroring Maura's pose. It brought them within a foot, creating a sense of intimacy, and Maura had a brief but powerful sense of déjà vu. A couple who had sat in exactly this way. Across the street. The thought startled her enough that she missed Jane's question.
"I'm sorry." Maura rubbed a hand across her forehead. "What?"
Jane's voice lowered, concerned. "How have things…been?"
Maura stilled, dropped her arm to her side. "I'm fine, Jane."
She felt Jane search her face. The body across from hers shifted, moved closer. She read earnestness in the cant of shoulders, the furrowing of her brow. A part of her wanted to meet that offer of comfort half way.
"You'd tell me, right? If you weren't?"
Delicate. The word whispered through her mind, taunting her. She was starting to wonder if she would ever escape it.
She pushed it aside, forcefully, and focused on Jane's face as she came to a decision.
"I'm returning to work."