"Umm I think you've got flour – in a lot of – places – still."
Caroline looked down at her pajamas. Eleanor's observation was spot on. Flour had managed to find its way here and there and, really, everywhere.
The weather outside was fierce. Spring rain pelted down. A cold wind and a warm wet front had collided on Friday night following the horrible Wednesday just past, turning the late-March morning into the start of a day not fit for man or beast.
They'd both taken the suggestion of down-time quite seriously, and had made plans on Thursday to take the weekend to themselves. Flora was with Greg and Jenny and Eleanor's girls were off with their uncle for the weekend. A rare moment for the two women to feel an uninterrupted pace of lives spent together. To connect with themselves and with each other.
Eleanor reached over the island counter and brushed a bit from her shoulder. "It suits you."
"It does not. Stop flattering me."
"Habit. I can't help it. You're so – worthy of flattery." Eleanor arched her brow, broke off a bit of scone and wrapped her lips around it.
"Do you ever, ever stop?"
"That question has been asked and answered. Only when you want me to."
"Don't. Ever." Caroline took a bite of her scone, then frowned. This was their third time through the scone baking process, and while the scientist in her was catching on, there was still – something – Eleanor did to transcend the individual elements. They had two batches in front of them, one from each woman. There was no question of confusing them.
Eleanor caught Caroline scowling at her pastries and smiled. "Practice, Caroline. Practice. Intimacy with your work, and love. The scones can tell – they'll give back what you put in."
"And what is it, Eleanor – that you put in and I don't?" Caroline's tone was stern and her hand was on her hip. This was becoming a matter of competition and ability. There was simply no logical reason that with the same ingredients and process she and anyone else would have differing results. Hers should always be equal, if not superior.
"Hmmmm." Eleanor put on an extremely thoughtful face. "I just – well. Honestly, darling." Epiphany seemed to dawn, and lit her face as she locked eyes with Caroline. "It must be skill." She popped her last bite in her mouth and smiled.
Caroline's stern expression did not change. She remained silent, pinched up the remaining crumbs from her plate and finished her cup of Welsh morning. She looked up from the cup and eyed Eleanor down, who had adopted a very, very earnest expression. She stood and picked up her plate and Eleanor's as well. Silently she crossed the kitchen and stacked them both in the dishwasher.
Eleanor was very busy doing nothing across at the kitchen island. Caroline shut the dishwasher and turned. "Must be skill?" Her blue eyes were feisty.
"Yes. That's really just the only thing that seems to explain it." Eleanor's batted her lashes. She was seemingly unable to contain her accompanying smirk.
"Is it, then? The only explanation?" She advanced slowly as the wind rushed through the trees and drove a pounding rain to clatter at the windows.
Eleanor began to back slowly away, grinning. "Not that you're not terribly skilled in many areas. At many, many things." She fidgeted at a button of her pajama top.
Caroline continued to advance in time with Eleanor's retreat. "I see."
"For instance." Eleanor had reached the curve of the island. Her back still to the countertop, she rounded it and stopped. "I hear that you're exactly what's needed when it comes to changing flats." She gave a serious look and a nod in response to Caroline's amused outrage. "And wine. Really. Wine – you're – well you're just inspired when it comes to choosing the right bottle for any occasion."
"Am I?" Caroline stopped her advance, only steps away. She crossed her arms, and allowed the other woman to continue.
"Absolutely." Eleanor nodded, long brown auburn hair tumbling around her. "And numbers. Forensics. I mean, you're a regular human super-computer. I can't tell you. That little matter of the mis-coded cost allocations down in Manchester from last quarter I couldn't reckon - why you just nailed that, Caroline. I can't thank you enough for your help."
"Did I just nail those numbers, for you, then Eleanor?"
"Positively." Eleanor nodded. She took another step back and Caroline matched her.
A dramatic gust came through and a tree rapped at the vaulted windows of the living room. Eleanor looked over for just a moment, and with that Caroline was on her, hands clamped on either hip tightly. She pulled Eleanor against her, resumed her silence and waited.
"Not that, you know, this particular list is at all comprehensive." Eleanor eyes lingered on Caroline's, dropped to the freckles across her nose and then came to rest on the flow of dark blonde at her hairline.
Caroline softened her expression, loosened the thin line of her drawn lips and parted them just a bit, narrowed her eyes but stayed quiet. She kept her hold and pulled Eleanor even closer.
"You've, ehm, many, many other important skills." She felt Eleanor's stomach clutch under the thin cotton of their pajamas. Still, she said nothing.
"Oh for heaven's sake." Eleanor sighed and dove into Caroline. She took her head in both hands and kissed her deeply.
A few moments later, Caroline realized they'd forgotten to take care of that mark on the kitchen ceiling from the champagne cork gone astray at the Christmas party.
The rain continued through the day. Currently, Caroline's legs were draped over Eleanor's on the couch and they both were enjoying that hard-to find quiet afternoon in pony tails and pajamas with tea and books. Stewart, Eleanor's cat, was making a rare appearance, curled between them.
She carefully kept her eyes on her own book as Eleanor began to hum along with a song that had started over the stereo from the ipod. She was quiet about it, subtle, still absorbed in her own book and likely unaware she was doing it. But it was enchanting, and Caroline felt as you do when you notice a rabbit just paces away, and it hasn't noticed you yet. You don't want to move or even breathe too loudly for fear that it will stop its natural course, happily picking through the grass, sense you, look up in fear, and bolt.
She stayed relaxed and the song went on, Eleanor still humming, beautifully. It ended and she stopped, clearly less interested in the next. Caroline weighed her responses, decided she had an opportunity.
She kept her eyes on her book, expression mild, tone casual and objective. "That was lovely."
Eleanor looked up. "I'm sorry?"
"That song. Lovely. Glad you chimed in." Caroline's eyes still on her book but a smile on her face. Carefully.
A moment to rewind for Eleanor and then realization on her face. She smiled. "Yes I like that one very much."
Caroline finally looked up and met Eleanor's eyes and returned the smile. "You've a beautiful voice, and I love hearing it. I'm sorry it hasn't been – appreciated – in the past."
"I'm sorry as well."
"You've yet to tell me the whole story, with Emma." She marked her page and set her book in her lap.
Eleanor sighed. "Oh Emma. My albatross."
"You've met John, if I recall?"
"I have." Eleanor looked out the window, smile still on her face but steel creeping into her eyes. "I've suppose I've told you how it started and how it ended. The highlights, anyway. The whats - but not all the whys."
She smiled recalling Eleanor's telling of how it ended with Emma. Her extremely awkward response last year during what she'd taken to be a business lunch, as Eleanor had first come out to her via her wife's affair, and subsequently come on to her, making a mess of Caroline and likely putting her just in the spot Eleanor wanted her to be.
"It's almost easy to sum up now," began Eleanor. "Of course marrying Emma was a huge mistake. She made me feel small, and as though I needed her to keep from feeling any smaller than I already did. We were so young when we met. I had no idea what a proper relationship was. I had no idea how to love, or be loved – much less by a woman. And if it hadn't been for June, and then Lily, who knows who I would have become, how long I would have let Emma ruin me?"
The telling seemed rote now for Eleanor, carefully removed. Caroline had the sense she'd done a lot of work to come to any kind of peace with the narrative and the events themselves.
"But when I had those two little girls - when I looked at myself, at my life and my relationship with Emma through this new lens, the perspective of the girls, I didn't like it. I realized the way I was with Emma was wasting who I was as Eleanor."
"Then, of course, I didn't know how to get out of it, how to change things. Emma was the first - only - love I'd known for a very long time, and I couldn't – wouldn't go home and ask for help. The girls were still small. I was just starting my career. I was scared to be a single mother. That woman Emma took up with, the secretary at her firm, that was what I needed, actually. I knew I wasn't about to be a choice among options for Emma for the rest of my life. At her disposal if I were what she wanted. And that certainly wasn't going to be how I raised June and Lily."
With the next revelation she, seemed to challenge Caroline to look away. "I allowed myself to be a choice for you. In fact, I think maybe I made you chose me." She smiled, then turned serious again. "But not for Emma. Not at that point. Not again. She wasn't going to keep shopping around and come to a conclusion about keeping our life and the girls."
Caroline had no response to offer, understanding that her ex-wife had likely been cheating on Eleanor consistently. She was angry at this other woman and what she'd done to someone she'd come to love. Sad that Eleanor had taken so long to see what was plain to her - that she was wonderful.
Eleanor continued. "So I told Emma the affair had to end. If she couldn't finally commit to me, to the marriage, and to the family in a real way, it wasn't going to work." Eleanor's pitch lowered. "And she said 'okay.' And she was gone that week. So many years together and then done, just like that." Eleanor shrugged. "I'm honestly surprised she married me in the first place, agreed we should have the girls. But I think she liked the idea of it. It conformed, in a certain way, to the lives of our parents that she envied. The structure and the tradition and the propriety of it all, even if we were two women."
Caroline nodded. There was an appeal to a life that fit the mold - a strong one. She was finding though, that there was a stronger appeal to living a life that made you happy, whatever form it may take. "Thank you. I've loads more questions, but there are more pleasant ways to spend the afternoon." She immediately raised her index finger. "For instance, tea and biscuits?"
Eleanor looked crestfallen and Caroline smiled. "Be right back."
She returned with, green jasmine for Eleanor and Assam for herself. She rounded the couch and spoke as the other woman looked up. "I have two favors to ask." She set her own cup on the table. "In a particular order. Because I only want you to say yes to the second if you can say yes to the first."
Eleanor raised a brow, laid her book in her lap, and smiled. "Well since I'm so fond of it when you say yes to me, I'll do my best. Shoot."
"Next weekend is spring tea at Mummy and Me, at the library. I was hoping you would join me and Flora, if you're free. It should be much more fun – than last time."
"You mean than last month when Flora's boyfriend Henry had an unfortunate toilet training accident while sitting on my lap?"
Caroline tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. "Ah, right. More fun than – that."
"It's 2pm, yes?" Eleanor reached over to grab and check the calendar on her mobile. "I'd love to." Her eyes twinkled. "Now what's that second favor, then?"
She set her mouth, anticipating a self-satisfied response to her request. She refused to make eye contact. But those Russian tea cakes are just so damn good. "Would you ever consider making biscuits?" She steeled herself and looked over at Eleanor, expression already lighting. "Umm. Specifically, the Earl Grey Russian tea cakes?" She looked away again. "They're amazing."
Eleanor sat quietly for a moment with the predicted self-satisfied grin pasted all over her face. "Of course. I'd be delighted. I'm glad you like them so well." Her mouth continued to twitch and her eyes danced along.
"Well I appreciate it. I really do." She waited indulgently, face haughty, for Eleanor to continue, knew she was dying loose a jibe.
Instead, she produced a shy, small smile. Caroline had learned this shyness meant Eleanor was deciding something. She smiled back and waited for her to come to her resolution.
Eleanor stood. "I'll be right back."
"Okay."
She disappeared upstairs. Caroline tried to resume her read, but closed her book, curiosity making it very difficult to focus on Mrs. Dalloway and her daily struggles.
Eleanor reappeared with a gift-wrapped box in hand and perched delicately on the couch.
Caroline crossed her legs and sat up straighter, amused and curious.
Eleanor looked down and picked at the ribbon of the bow. "Well the weather is quite different today - but it's been about a year, Caroline, since I - had you - over for brunch last spring."
Caroline leaned back against the couch, frowning in recollection. An entire year? Impossible.
Her mind shuffled a deck of images. The early, awkward but thrilling first steps with Eleanor. Crisp sunny days, football games at the park with the girls, afternoon 'naps.' Then into the summer, then Christmas and snow. The thick of crashing into each other, violently, fumbling to figure out if the pieces of who they were together would fit. Finally, back around again to March. Oh. It has been a year, then, hasn't it?
Eleanor found herself and looked over to Caroline, commitment to a course of action clear in her eyes. "It's hard to pin an official start, to it really – to us – I suppose you might say. But that was the start of everything, on my end. Beginning to realize how really right I'd been about how much I wanted – maybe, needed, you – to be in my life." She smiled confidently and her usual pert tone reasserted itself. "Well, in my bed, in any case. I really needed that shag. It was a good one."
"'Bloody shagging of your life,' if I recall correctly?" Caroline crossed her arms and smiled. "I rather like being in your life. And in your bed." She winked, and Eleanor handed her the box. She tugged loose the ribbon.
Lid off she parted white tissue paper and pulled out a sky-blue scarf, a silky cotton blend with short, tight fringe. Definitely work appropriate and soft through her fingers. At the bottom near the fringe was "xxx, E" in very small navy embroidery, hard to notice but making it incredibly personal.
She held it between her hands in her lap and smiled back at Eleanor's eager eyes, finding it impossible to keep adoration out of her expression. "Thank you. It's beautiful. It's really lovely."
Eleanor eyes caught on the silver loop at Caroline's throat on her way up to her eyes. "I love seeing you wear something I've given you. It makes me feel like we're still real, like this is still happening. Like I really matter to you. And I've noticed you wear scarves. On the odd occasion."
She wrapped the sky-blue scarf around Eleanor's neck and pulled her close. "I love wearing what you've given me. I do. And we are real, Eleanor. We are. I hope you know that. I don't know why you don't feel that every moment we're together, but I do." She pulled the scarf back into her lap, fidgeted with it and looked down. "I could - can - do more, to make you feel that way. You're on my mind, always. Please know that." She looked back up and put a hand on the side of Eleanor's face and smiled, eyes crinkling. "And, why yes, I do enjoy scarves."
Eleanor nodded. They kissed, took their time. Then Caroline sat back, abashed. "I'm sorry. I – I haven't got something for you."
"You've had a thing or two on your mind. I understand. It's a complicated time of year for you."
"It is." Caroline's eyes crinkled again in an amazed smile. "But a year – it's been a year - I can't believe it." She shook her head. She studied Eleanor's brown eyes, the mischief and grace in them, the love she never tried to hide. She took a second to really be present with the woman who had made this past year better than she'd imagined it ever might have been. Brought passion and adventure and discovery in a way she'd thought had disappeared from her life - and she hadn't dared hope to regain.
She reached out and ran her fingers down a lock of Eleanor's long hair and held her eyes. "Oh but I do love you."
There was nothing but certainty in her eyes now when she said the words Eleanor couldn't hear often enough. Lost were the darting shadows of disbelief and caution. That new-found confidence in their love destroyed and recreated Eleanor every time Caroline said it.
She understood Caroline's effect on her. Accepted that loving her made it easy to give and not think about what Caroline was or wasn't giving back; how being with someone like Caroline made it hard to live without her. The hypnotic effect of her whip-smart, daring eyes and the compulsion to seduce she inspired by always seeming just out of reach. Giving just enough of herself to leave Eleanor wanting more; and there always seemed to be more. And the more always left Eleanor wondering and wanting to see just how deep Caroline went. She thought perhaps very deep; perhaps so deep she might get lost.
It was her pattern, her odyssey. Recreating Margaret, her unapproachable mother, again and again until she got what she needed. Through Emma, and now Caroline. Two very opposite sides of the same coin. Two chances to fix what had gone so terribly wrong so long ago. Eleanor wasn't looking to lose herself again, the way she had with Emma. But she was more than ready to get lost in Caroline, to trust that journey, and what they might find together along the way.
She planted her palm on Caroline's chest and drank up the moment. "Thank you, Caroline. For being in my life." She pushed her backward, tumbled forward, and snuggled next to her on the couch. "Love you."
"Love you back." Caroline pulled her close and they listened to the rain on the windows.