The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,78

I really wanted to get this over with. To tell her everything. To know one way or another if my thirst for her would be quenched. Finally.

I was reading the editorials when a dark-windowed Town Car drove down the street from the direction of Austin. I swallowed the knot in my throat and returned to my paper, but the words swam on the page. I was still staring at the page when the Town Car drove by the other way. The windows were too opaque to see inside, but I knew Alima watched me from its darkened interior. I drank my coffee and was surprised to find it lukewarm. I folded the paper neatly and left it on the table for the next person.

Nora’s rental was in the driveway next to Ray’s truck, but there was no answer when I knocked. I heard chickens squawking from the barn. I walked around the house, the sounds of unhappy chickens getting louder and louder.

“Oh, give it a rest MacArthur, you prima donna. Take a page from Patton here. See how she calmly moves out of the way so I can get the eggs? Ow! You did not just peck me! I’m gonna have Emmadean fry you up and serve you with cream gravy if you’re not careful, you spiteful little chicken.”

I burst out laughing as much from nervousness as from watching Nora fight with a chicken. Her surprised expression changed to one of embarrassed good humor in a flash.

“That chicken’s on thin ice,” Nora said. “She was probably Ray’s favorite. Bet he coddled her.”

“Ray didn’t seem like the type to coddle chickens.”

“People do strange shit in their old age.”

She put the bucket down and came toward me. “I like your dress.”

This one was white with small periwinkle-blue flowers all over it. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites.”

She nodded to the box in my hand. “What do you have there?”

“Coconut cream kolaches.”

“My favorite.”

“Used to be.”

“Still is. I had one the other day.” She took the box from me and balanced it on top of the bucket.

Her head tilted up as her hand caressed my cheek.

“Are we really, finally alone?” she whispered.

“Just us and the chickens.”

“You seem nervous.”

“I am.”

“Don’t be.” She gently pinched my chin and brought my lips down to hers. Her mouth was soft and gentle, and I had to force myself to let her kiss me, to not pull her to me roughly, to release the pent-up passion and frustration that had been building for nearly twenty years. I was glad I didn’t. My mind emptied of all the worries, the what-ifs, the second guessing, of all the regrets and lies and sadness. I was seventeen again, kissing my girlfriend, exploring the new world that had opened up between us. Allowing myself to feel good without guilt or judgment or fear.

When Nora finally pulled back, I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to leave the moment, vaguely knowing there was some other emotion besides joy that would greet me when I opened my eyes. I wanted to linger, but Nora broke the spell when her thumb rubbed along the bottom of my lip.

“Smudged lipstick.”

“Hmm.”

She picked up the box of kolaches. “Let’s get this talk over with so we can do that again.” She held out her hand, and I took it. “And, more.”

My stomach twirled around like a ballerina in a spin. I inhaled. “Last night, did you and Alima...?” I hated myself a little for asking.

“No.”

I sighed with relief. “I know I had no right to ask you not to, we aren’t—”

Nora put her fingers on my lips to stop me from talking. “You had every right to ask and if I were in your shoes, I would have asked the same thing.”

I nodded and inhaled. It was time. “I hope you have coffee on.”

“I do.”

The coffee was hot, and the kolaches were pillowy and sweet. The air was thick with anticipation, and a fair amount of dread on my part. My palms started sweating. I sipped my coffee and placed the mug on the table with a thunk. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Nora reached out for my right hand. She outlined my hand with her index finger, her featherlight touch sending chill bumps up my arm. She gently twisted our friendship band between her thumb and forefinger. “What do you want to tell me?”

“I’m scared.”

“No need to be scared of me. Ever.” She squeezed my hand in encouragement.

I nodded and stood. I paced in the small kitchen, gathering my