Title: Snapshots: Anthology of a Life Well Lived

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children

Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca

Disclaimers and Other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, and Maureen Reardon are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera and Bianca Montgomery are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jordan Montgomery-Kundera, Cassidy Ryan, Jessica Castle, and Jacob Jackson-Morgan are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

As always, thank you to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. I appreciate you.

Rating: Overall, Chapter 6 is rated R, though this particular update is rated PG-13, I suppose. It's always a struggle for me when it comes to ratings, because I know what I would and would not want my 13 year-old niece to read. I'm not so certain I'd want her to see this, but it's definitely not worthy of an R rating. The story will eventually reach NC-17.

Synopsis: It's a stroll down memory lane for Olivia and Natalia, Lena and Bianca, and their friends and family, as two of our favorite couples' daughters prepare to enter into wedded bliss, in a double wedding… of sorts…

Additional Author's Notes: This particular update is being brought to you as a gift for my friend WickedWanda926, because every year on my birthday, she wishes me a Happy Birthday, and then wants to know where her present is… So, here ya go, my faithful little FFW… ;-)

Pay particular attention to the transitions in time, as this chapter contains flashbacks within a flashback. Twenty-nine-year-old Emma is still on Moshup Beach, reminiscing about a conversation that took place during the summer when she and Jordan were 20 and 17, respectively, and the story flashes back to series of other memories…

Snapshots: Anthology of a Life Well Lived

Copyright September 2012

"You cannot explain, with the limitations of language and inexperience, why your body can cause such a sudden, fumbling response in someone else, nor can you put into exact words what you feel about your body, explain the thrum it feels in proximity to another warm-skinned form. What you feel is a tangle of contradictions: power, pleasure, fear, shame, exultation, some strange wish to make noise. You cannot say how those things knit themselves together somewhere in the lower abdomen and pulse."

— Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia

Chapter 6.1—Awakenings:

The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Sunday, July 18, 2021, 1:00 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"She seriously just ran off into the closet, and left you sitting there for thirty minutes?" Jordan wasn't certain whether she was amused or appalled. Perhaps a little of both? Makeshift poker in hand, she leaned forward, prodding the wood to stir the flames in the fire pit they had fashioned on the beach. Emma's story was fascinating, and she was nowhere near ready to relinquish their conversation.

"Yeah," Emma laughed in confirmation. What had been traumatizing to her then, she now found rather humorous. Hindsight, and all, she reasoned. Maury had always been the adventurous type. She never shied away from trying new things, and never backed down from a challenge. And that first kiss was the only time in their entire life history that Emma could remember her being skittish about a new experience. "But she felt terrible about it afterwards."

"Talk about irony," Jordan said with humor in her tone, when she realized Emma was no longer bothered by Maureen's actions.

"How's that?" Emma wasn't following.

"First girl-on-girl kiss sent her running into a closet?" Jordan explicated.

"Oh!" Emma laughed. "Yeah, that is rather ironic. Never thought about it before."

"So I take it you forgave her," Jordan assumed. Her eyes were glued to the renewed flames as they danced in the ocean breeze.

"How could I not?" Emma shrugged. "She was my best friend. And it's not like I wasn't freaking out a little too," she reasoned.

"Was?" Jordan raised an eyebrow, as she emphasized the tense in Emma's comment.

Instinctively, Emma understood. "Still is," she clarified.

"Oh—" Jordan sighed, her heart sinking in disappointment. Emma's words stabbed like a knife. She had always wanted to be the one to own that title in Emma's life. That inexplicable need had grown more intense as she aged, and it was never more true than now, as they sat there together, chatting by the light of the fire. She looked up to Emma in a way she never had anyone else before. Not even her softball coach, Cassidy Ryan, or her soccer coach, Jessica Castle, both of whom she had revered since joining their teams her freshman year.

"But things are… different now," Emma added as an afterthought.

"Oh?" That caught Jordan's attention, and she sat up, looking at Emma expectantly. "How so?"

"It's always different when you're involved," Emma answered.

"What a minute," Jordan halted. Her face held a look of confusion. "I thought you were with Dylan."

"That was so Senior Year," Emma sighed. Her tone held more flippancy than she actually felt. "Try to keep up, huh?"

Jordan laughed in response. "Yes, Ma'am," she playfully saluted.

Shoving aside a throng of unexpected emotions at the memory of Dylan, Emma focused on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The smell of the salt air, the rush of the water, the rhythmic pounding of the waves, suffused her senses, allowing the tension in her body to ebb.

In the midst of those brief moments, Jordan sensed Emma's need for solitude. Though Emma had always been somewhat an enigma to her, Jordan understood her in ways that others didn't, and thus, despite the incessant urge within her to question further, she simply sat there quietly.

"Anyway," Emma sighed, finally breaking the silence, "I started seeing Maury again after my freshman year of college. We were both single and home for the summer, so we figured, why not?"

"So, you dated Maury, then Dylan, and then Maury again?" Jordan clarified, her urge to question not quelled for long.

"More or less," Emma shrugged noncommittally.

"What does that mean?" Jordan sounded perplexed.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call what Maury and I did the first time around, dating," Emma answered, with emphasis on the final word of her statement.

"What would you call it then?"

Emma paused on that question, reflecting. "Practicing," she finally decided. It was the safest word she could find.

"And what do you call it now?" Jordan pressed.

Again, Emma mulled the question over before answering. While she still wouldn't necessarily consider her current relationship with Maury as dating, it was certainly more than practicing. But she didn't quite know what to call it.

They were committed to one another, she supposed. Or at least for the time being, neither of them was seeing anyone else. But they weren't up one another's asses like other couples. They couldn't be, given their busy schedules and the geographical distance between them. "I call it… casual, but committed, I suppose," she finally answered.

"Was that when you shared your first meaningful kiss with her? Y'know, after you got together the second time?" Jordan inquired curiously. She felt the need to get their conversation back on track. But she hadn't a clue as to why.

Emma cast a sideways glance toward her. "You sure do ask a lot of questions," she said, only half teasing. She had always been comfortable sharing things with Jordan. But something was different now, and couldn't quite figure out what. It made her a little nervous. Like somehow, her words and actions mattered more now. But she didn't know why.

"Sue me, I'm curious," Jordan said lightly. "So spill."

Laughing, Emma threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'll spill." Glancing at Jordan, she held her gaze. "But it's your turn to answer the tough questions next."

"I have no issue with that," Jordan replied, as she held Emma's gaze steadily. She had no secrets she wished to keep from this woman.

"Okay," Emma nodded, finalizing their agreement. "So if you must know, we were actually just starting high school when we shared our first meaningful kiss."

Triumphant, Jordan grinned. "Tell me about it…" she quietly coaxed.

A wistful smile spread across Emma's lips, as she drifted back into the early days with Maureen Reardon. Gosh, she had so many wonderful memories. Maureen made her laugh, challenged her tendency to seek solitude, drew her out of her shell, though, sometimes she had gone kicking and screaming. She held some painful memories too, but for the most part, her reminiscences of times with Maureen brought a smile to her face. "Well, over the months since we shared that kiss that sent her running back into the closet, we uh, practiced, a lot," she said with a mischievous grin, emphasis on the parts about the frequency of their practicing. "But I was fifteen the first time I realized our kisses really meant something…"

The Farmhouse of Love—Saturday, December 19, 2015, 2:15 p.m. Central Standard Time

Barreling down the hillside near the treehouse with blazing speed, Emma and Maury felt their bellies tremble with excitement. It was the first day of winter break, and they woke up to nearly a foot of heavy, wet snow, thanks to the huge winter storm that blasted the Midwest overnight, and into the early hours of morning.

Weather forecasters from Montana to Maine, and as far south as Central Texas, had been predicting the mega-storm for days. Closer to home, the chief meteorologists from every news channel in Springfield were trying to outdo one another in the timing of the storm and the accuracy of their accumulation totals. None of them agreed, of course, but they all swore it would be one for the record books.

Olivia swore too—as soon as Natalia mentioned a trip to the grocery story before Snowmageddon or Snowpocalypse, or whatever the hell they were calling it, arrived. She swore that it was all just a marketing ploy to get people to raid the local food markets.

It wasn't that she was unsympathetic, or that she lacked understanding. Growing up on a tropical island, she certainly understood the necessity of preparing for an impending storm. Hurricanes left devastation in their wake. But snow? Snow never left an entire geographical region in a shambles when it was over. It just left huge mounds of filthy, packed ice that lingered for weeks on end, and potholes the size of a sub-compact car. And yet, when it came to the slightest mention of snow, these Midwesterners flocked to the grocery stores like the world was coming to an end and they might starve to death in the handful of hours it would take for the road crews to clear off the highways. It just all seemed rather ridiculous to her.

Yet, despite her cynicism, off she had trudged to the market with Natalia early on Friday morning, in search of whatever the hell it was that they couldn't live without for those few brief hours between the first light of day and the moment the snowplows whisked past the farmhouse, clearing their path to sweet freedom. God Bless America!

What on earth was the obsession with milk, bread, and eggs?, she wondered, not for the first time, as they dodged the collective masses of anxiety-ridden housewives that flocked the aisles of the local supermarket. Did everyone and their fucking brother eat French toast when it snowed? Well, if they did, they forgot their syrup!

Upon her voicing such thoughts, Natalia had once again reminded her that not everyone could afford to pay someone to bring them a truckload of groceries in the middle of a blizzard. With that, Olivia piped down, and simply helped Natalia collect the things on their shopping list. God bless her wife, too, for always putting life back into perspective.

As for Emma, she had been anticipating the storm from the moment she heard the initial forecast. And the closer they drew to Friday, the more excited she became. She was positively beside herself when the first huge, wet flakes began to fall shortly after dinner Friday night. Much to her delight, a steady snowfall continued, the winds whipping relentlessly against the sturdy farmhouse throughout the night. And by morning their world was covered in a thick blanket of freshly fallen powder.

Bliss.

Emma had gotten up early that morning, in anticipation of the weekend that awaited her. Dressing quickly, she raced down the stairs like a little kid on Christmas morning, and burst into the kitchen on her way to the mudroom. Refusing breakfast, much to her Ma's chagrin, she donned her heaviest winter coat and her warmest boots, and bolted out the back door. It was still dark outside, but she didn't care. She pummeled through the snow out to the barn, like a woman on a mission. It didn't matter that the snow didn't actually mean a day off of school. It meant at least a whole weekend of sledding and cross-country skiing. Probably even longer, if the temperature stayed cold enough. Maybe even the whole entire break!

Entering the barn, she closed and latched the huge wooden doors to keep the wind from blowing them open. And then she slipped her coat, hat, and gloves off, dropping them onto the nearby bench. Leaning over, she switched on the heater, and then she leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the steady snowfall through the antique diamond-paned windows. It was the perfect kind of snow, because it was wet and heavy, and it would pack down really well, making the surface really slick, after a couple of passes with the sled. She felt a sense of giddiness well up inside her, and she might have stood there watching it all day, if not for the ringing of her phone. It drew her out of her dream world, and back into reality.

Answering the call, she tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear. Greeting Maury without even looking at the caller ID, she listened to her shrieks of excitement over the arrival of the snow, as she moved around the work space that Rafe had built in the barn, gathering the supplies she would need.

Once the supplies were all on the work table, she turned the phone to speaker, setting it down to free up her hands. And then, meticulously, she waxed the skis on her custom-built sled, as well as her cross-country skis, while she chattered with Maury on the phone.

She loved the excitement of sledding, especially with Maury. There was never a dull moment with her around. That's why she loved being with her so much. But she loved the quiet solitude of cross-country skiing more. Somehow, the world seemed to still in the wake of a fresh snowfall, and it hushed the sense of restlessness that sometimes cropped into her spirit. Setting out across the vast expanse of farmland surrounding their home gave her a chance to be still, to reflect, and to commune with her inner self, and with nature. It was during those times when she found the deepest sense of inner peace.

But today, this weekend, would be about having fun with Maury. Jacob was gone with his family for the weekend, and she had Maury all to herself for a change. And she didn't plan to waste a moment of it. There would be plenty of time for inner reflection later.

By the time Emma was finished with her skis, they had it all planned out—the snow would stop by nine o'clock, and by nine fifteen the crews could have the roads cleared, they reasoned. Surely there must have been other reasons why they didn't have school anytime it snowed more than an inch… Right?

Right.

So fifteen minutes should do it. And then Maury could be on her way over for a weekend of sledding, and skiing, and hot cocoa in front of the fire. It was the perfect way to spend the first few days of their break.

Just perfect.

Needless to say, things hadn't worked out quite as planned. But Maury did finally make it to the farmhouse by one thirty. And by two o'clock they had already taken several runs down the hillside. From the bottom, it looked like one steep, continuous hill. In reality though, it was a series of small hills and valleys, gradually flowing down toward the pond. And the tree where Emma's childhood treehouse was build, stood proudly in a plateau between the two largest hills. It had grown some over the years, and now, they could almost see the farmhouse when they peered out the side window looking to the north.

But today wasn't for the treehouse. It was for sledding. And Maury was piled on top of Emma, lying flat against Emma's backside, her arms wrapped tightly around Emma's body. Ever since they were children, this was the way had flown down that hill on snowy afternoons. But it was different now. Maureen's body was changing. And so was hers. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed just by looking, but now she could feel it, despite the heavy winter apparel they were sporting. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was the only one who noticed.

Shrugging the unbidden thoughts away, she focused on the sensation of riding the professionally designed sled. It was a one-of-a-kind Hammerhead, designed to her exact specifications. And Emma was beyond proud of it. It had been a Christmas gift from her moms three years ago, and she and Maury used it every single time it snowed—even if they had to pack their own trail down the hill because there wasn't enough accumulation. She couldn't even begin to count the times they'd dug it out of the mud after it got stuck for lack of snow pack.

But that wasn't the case today.

The expertly waxed skis sliced through the glistening snow like a carving knife through butter, and the girls shrieked with laughter, their bellies doing summersaults as they flew over the hills. When Emma turned the handle, engaging the hair-trigger steering, the front skis turned just in time to avoid hitting the pond, and their hearts raced from the rush of adrenaline.

It wouldn't have mattered if she missed the turn, Emma reasoned. The pond was frozen over, so that could be fun. And besides, there was way more than enough terrain between the bottom of the last hill and the edge of the pond for the sled to run out of speed before it was too late. But ever since she was a little girl, her Ma had warned her repeatedly to stay away from that edge, especially when it was cold. And so she obeyed. Barely.

Gliding to a stop, they took a moment to catch their breath from all of the excitement. And then Emma pushed back against Maury's body, urging her to get up. "Let's go again," she said with the exuberance of a five-year-old.

Maury laughed, and rolled off onto the snow. Lying flat on her back beside Emma, who was still on her belly on the sled, she met her gaze. "Let's make snow angels first."

"Aren't we getting a little too old for that?" Emma challenged.

"Never!"

Amused, Emma shook her head. When society demanded that Maury grow up, she staunchly refused. Never passing up a chance to have a good time, she could always manage to find the fun in anything. Didn't matter what it was. She was a free spirit, the life of any party, and nothing ever seemed to get her down.

She was good for Emma that way—challenging her tendency to draw inward, to worry about things she couldn't change. Sometimes the uncertainties of her childhood—the years before Natalia came into their lives—wreaked havoc on Emma's soul. But somehow, Maury found a way to draw her out of that place, and set her on higher ground.

Feeling lighthearted, almost free, Emma laughed, and launched her body from the sled, landing on the ground on the other side of Maury. "Last one to finish has to carry the sled back up the hill." It didn't really matter. The sled wasn't heavy at all. But the competition was fun. She and Maury had always enjoyed a good competition.

"You're on!" Maury declared.

And with that, they were both flailing their arms and legs rapidly, each leaving their own impression in the fresh, deep snow. It didn't take long. Snow angels never did. Emma was on her feet just seconds before Maury, and both of them laughed at their appearance in the wake of their fast and furious wallow in the snow.

"You look like the Abominable Snowman," Emma said.

"Yeah, well, you don't look much better," Maury playfully retorted. Reaching out, she brushed clumps of wet snow from Emma's heavy winter coat. "But that was fun."

"Yeah," Emma agreed, as she returned the favor, removing clumps of snow from Maury's coat. And then she gestured toward the waiting sled. "A few more runs before hot cocoa?"

Maury grinned. "Perfect," she agreed. Lifting the sled, she slipped the straps over the bulk of her coat, and glanced over her shoulder at Emma. "Race you to the top."

Emma was off like a shot before Maury even finished voicing her challenge. And Maury yelled after her, accusing her of cheating, as she pummeled through the snow, trying to catch up.

A few minutes later, they were racing down the hill again, both of them shrieking with delight. Only this time, as they topped the middle hill, they hit a subtle, unexpected dip in the terrain, and the sled went airborne. Adrenaline surged, and they laughed even harder, as it flew through the air. And when it slammed back down into the snow, Emma jerked the handle sharply to the left, with far more force than she realized, and suddenly, they were being hurled them from the sled.

They hit the ground with a forceful blow, and tumbled down the final hill toward the pond. And when they came to rest in the center of the open terrain, they were flat on their backs, side-by-side. The wind knocked out of both of them, their struggle for air was complicated by the fact that they couldn't stop laughing.

Damn, that was fun!

But then their laughter ebbed, as Maury rolled toward Emma, her body landing flush up against Emma's side. Even through their heavy winter attire, Emma could feel the warmth of Maury's body just as clearly as if they were lying beneath the covers in her bed. The feeling left her at once, excited and unsettled.

Leaning up on one elbow, Maury gazed down into Emma's face, loving the way the sunlight played with the highlights in her hair, where it peeked out from beneath the knit cap Natalia had made for her two Christmas's before. It was a brilliant turquoise with deep purple accents, and it brought out the color in her eyes. "You're so beautiful," she said quietly, as she admired Emma's chiseled features. She imagined Emma's mother might have looked very much like her at fifteen. But she wondered only briefly if that might be the case, before falling back under the spell of those beautiful eyes as they gazed up at her.

Delivered on a whisper, Maury's compliment drew a blush from Emma. She murmured a quiet, "Thank you."

Slipping her glove off, Maury allowed her fingertips to play over the soft chestnut tendrils that teased at Emma's temples. And then they grazed lightly against Emma's cheek. Their gazes locked, searching. Hearts pounded, and their bellies were summersaulting again. But this time, it had nothing to do with the thrill of a sled ride, and everything to do with the sweet tension that sparked so unexpectedly between them.

Caught up in the moment, Maury leaned down, her open mouth brushing against Emma's lips in a tentative kiss.

Emma's breath hitched, and she felt her body react to the warmth of Maury's breath on her face, to the closeness of her body. Never in the past had Maury kissed her so spontaneously. There had always been a conversation, an establishment of context, before it happened. By contrast, this kiss surprised her, but not unpleasantly so. She closed her eyes, reveling in the tingling sensations that spread throughout her body, as Maury's lips skated across her mouth again, this time, lingering. And when Maury's tongue lightly brushed against her lower lip, she opened to her, allowing her entrance without a moment's hesitation.

The kiss was long, and slow, and deep. So different from the first one they had shared so many months ago. The one that sent Maury running off into the closet. And even different from the other times they had "practiced," since then. No, this definitely wasn't any sort of practice. This was a real as it could get—at least from Emma's inexperienced perspective. This was primal, innately sexual, in a way Emma had never experienced.

She wondered briefly if it felt the same to Maury. But her thoughts were soon eclipsed by the acute awareness of the steady pulsation between her legs, and she moaned deeply into Maury's mouth.

When Maury finally lifted her mouth from Emma's, meeting her gaze, they were both flushed and breathless. Shifting back enough to reach between their bodies, Maury's fingertips sought out the snaps on Emma's coat, slowly releasing them.

With each exaggerated "pop," Emma felt her pulse increase. Her gaze flickered back and forth between Maury's face the hand that was making quick work of the buttons. "What are you doing?" she asked on a nervous breath that billowed from her warm mouth out into the cold afternoon air.

"Body heat," Maury answered with a twinkle in her dark eyes. She didn't dare say that she ached to know how Emma's body would feel against her own. That was far more honesty than she could handle at the moment. Instead, she simply asked, "Is this okay?"

Emma's lips curled into an anxious smile, part nerves, part excitement. "Yeah," she exhaled softly, as she nodded.

Delivered on a breathy sigh, Emma's assent caused a sharp increase in Maury's own pulse. Her mouth met Emma's again, this time with more urgency, as she released the buttons on her own winter coat. And then she spread both garments open, and stealthily slid atop Emma's body, one leg slipping between Emma's thighs.

A mutual gasp escaped them, as their breasts brushed against one another for the first time. They had lain on Emma's bed, kissing, more than a few times in the past year, but never had their bodies been in such close contact. There had always been space between them. But not anymore.

Emma's next awareness was Maury's mouth was on hers again, with more slow, deep kisses that Emma could feel all the way to her toes. Maury's mouth was hot, her tongue, smooth as silk as it tangled with Emma's own. And the weight of Maury's body against her, that thigh pressing into her, caused the hammering pulse between her legs to quicken. Instinctively, her hips arched; her body pressing against Maury's thigh.

Maury groaned, and rocked her hips in response.

Emma responded by tangling her gloved hands Maury's hair at the base of her neck, holding her firmly in place, as that hot mouth sent wondrous sensations splaying throughout her body. She remembered feeling a little more excited each time they had kissed over the past year, but nothing like this. No, this was overwhelming—but in the most delightful way. Emma wanted more of it, but in the same breath, it scared the hell out of her.

Her head and body were about to wage a war when the sound of her Ma's voice registered from somewhere in the distance. She broke their kiss, and in the same instant, firmly shoved Maury off of her.

Earning a grunt of protest from her friend, she grinned sheepishly as she hurriedly sat up. "Sorry," she panted, nearly breathless from their kisses. "I didn't mean to push you away like that."

Sitting upright, Maury bent her knees, and casually wrapped her arms around them. She struggled for a moment to catch her breath. And then, her gaze on Emma, she quietly asked, "So… does that mean you, uh… you liked it?"

"Probably more than I should." Emma's tone was quiet, her words, forthright. "Especially since you have a boyfriend."

Before her Ma came into their lives, changing everything, including her Mom, Emma had heard countless stories about what a home-wrecker Olivia Spencer was, and how she didn't know how to keep her hands off of things, and people, who didn't belong to her. She hadn't known what it meant back then. But she did now, and she didn't want to be that kind of person. Not ever. And the kisses she and Maury had just shared felt uncomfortably close to crossing that line.

"That's never stopped us from kissing before," Maury lightly pointed out.

That was true enough, Emma reasoned. But their kisses had never felt like this before. The soft moans that had slipped from Maury's lips as they kissed, the heat she felt emanating from between Maury's legs, as she pressed into Emma's thigh, told her that they were both acutely aware of that fact. She wondered briefly if Maury was as pleasantly achy and wet down there as she was, in the wake of the most intense make-out session she had ever experienced. But she didn't dare ask.

Avoiding Maury's gaze, Emma stood up, brushing the snow from her coat and pants. "We should probably get inside," she said, as she grasped the straps on the sled. She slung it over her shoulders, and situated it on her back like a pro.

"Yeah," Maury sighed, as she shoved up off of the ground. "Your Ma will send out a search party if we're out here much longer," she added from past experience. Her comment drew a soft laugh from Emma, and she grinned in response. At least Emma didn't seem upset with her. Pulling her glove back on, she swiped at the snow on her pant leg. And then decided it was useless to bother—she was covered from head to toe.

Quickening her pace to catch up, she casually hooked her arm through Emma's. "Think your Ma baked any cookies while we were out here?" she asked, making conversation. Anything to avoid talking about what had just happened—she was afraid Emma would say they couldn't do that anymore.

Emma laughed. "Now that's a silly question."

"Yeah," Maury laughed. "I suppose it is."

TBC in Chapter 6.2…