Painted Moon Part 4

'I trust you," Jackie said quietly in the dark. "It's okay. Let's go back to sleep."

Leah curled into a motionless ball. She felt miserable and told herself it was because she had betrayed her memory of Sharla. She told herself that she could sleep, despite the needles of sensation that reminded her that she was a living woman with a real, live libido and that Sharla-her loving, compa.s.sionate Sharla-would have understood.

Jackie emerged from the shower wrapped tightly in Sharla's chenille robe. Her hair hung in a curtain down her back and Leah's fingers twitched as she recalled too vividly what it had felt like last night. She was aware that Jackie wouldn't meet her gaze. She herself was too aware of how she had wanted that body - not Sharla's, not any woman's, but Jackie's body - near her. No matter how often she reminded herself that Jackie had a boyfriend waiting for her, the p.r.i.c.kling in her fingers wouldn't go away.

"I'll make eggs," was all she said. "As a break from turkey leftovers."

"Sounds good."

Leah gathered the ingredients from the fridge, staring intently at the egg carton to avoid any eye contact with Jackie.

As she set them down, Jackie said hesitantly, "Before you start that, I just need to clear the air about last night."

"It's okay," Leah said. "I really don't know why I stepped over the line like that."

"I don't know why I did either," Jackie said.

Her voice was low and Leah heard her swallow. She turned to look at her, to watch that face flicker with emotions. She would paint it gray uncertainly, purple determination, chartreuse fear.

"I have to be honest with you," Jackie continued. "I- I've never wanted a woman before. But I knew... last night. That you were a woman. I know I said stop, but that was the surprise of it. I didn't want you to stop. And now-" She put one hand to her throat and swallowed again. "I'm not sure what to do about it."

Leah shook her head, deeply sorry about the mess she'd gotten them into. No matter what her own body wanted, she had to be firm. "I don't... I don't help straight women a.s.suage their curiosity. You'll have to find someone else." Leah found herself swallowing hard, too. She felt short of breath.

"That's not - I'm sorry, I didn't realize what I was asking. What... oh s.h.i.+t." Jackie's face was flus.h.i.+ng crimson. The patch of skin visible at the top of the robe was tinted orchid pink. "Forget I brought it up. I've made everything awkward."

"If you're really questioning -"

"I don't know!" Jackie looked down at her feet. "The way my body feels doesn't make any sense. It feels strange, different. But you're right, I can't just ask you to work this out for me. I have to do it myself."

Leah realized she was breathing hard. She had also unconsciously moved closer. "Jackie, it's not that I don't..." Want you. She did. Jackie had marched in here and dispelled Sharla's ghost. She wanted to hold onto this warm, breathing, lovely body as long as she could.

Jackie's gaze was unfocused, her mouth slightly parted. Leah couldn't stop herself from staring at Jackie's lips. She'd stared at them too long last night. She had wanted to touch them too much last night. They were even fuller than before, glistening. She devoured the rest of the face that she had already spent hours sketching. Skin flushed, slightly damp.

She pulled slowly and gently on the lapel of Sharla's robe. The knot around Jackie's waist loosened. Sharla's robe, but Jackie's body within.

She could see Jackie's nipples thrusting hard against the chenille, rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Leah tightened her grasp on the robe and the knot fell open. Leah's vision swam as she took in the plush, pliant swell of Jackie's stomach and the dark tangle of hair below it.

She heard Jackie's voice from far away. "G.o.d, Leah, I don't know what to do. But I want to do it."

Her hands slipped around Jackie's waist. She stepped into the widening circle of Jackie's arms. Jackie's lips were eager and welcoming when Leah kissed her.

With a moan Jackie drew Leah's body fully against her own. Leah wouldn't have pressed Jackie so hard against the counter, but Jackie was tightening her arms, crus.h.i.+ng Leah's mouth with painful need. She murmured small noises of pleasure and invited Leah to explore her mouth with a breathless brush of her tongue against Leah's.

Leah reveled in the sweetness that waited for her. She thirsted for more. Her hands gripped Jackie's ribs, then, more roughly than she meant to, she grasped Jackie's b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Jackie broke the bruising hunger of their kiss.

"I'm sorry," Leah gasped. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm scared," Jackie whispered. "I'm scared to death." Her lips were trembling. Then she drew Leah's hands to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s again and shuddered as Leah stroked them. She was breathing hard and the arms she put around Leah's neck were shaking. But she pulled Leah's face down again for another kiss as Leah explored the fullness of Jackie's b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Time pa.s.sed in uneven waves until Leah raised her head at an unfamiliar sound. A car horn.

Jackie stiffened. The horn repeated again. A man's voice haloed down from the road. Jackie gave a cry of frustration and Leah realized Jackie was near tears.

"That must be your uncle," Leah managed to say. In the short pause they heard a door slam and the sound of the gate opening.

Jackie nodded mutely. Leah watched the planes and angles try to sort themselves into the order Leah had sketched yesterday, but her lips looked too kissed, her face too stricken.

Then she realized Jackie was leaving. Leaving. The gate clanged shut and the sound was a punch in the stomach.

She whispered, "You're going away with them." What am I going to do, she thought desperately. I can't ask her to stay. She can't leave, she can't!

"I don't want to go," Jackie said. "Not yet."

"You want to know what you're missing," Leah said bitterly. "You want to know?" Jackie stared at her, then didn't resist as Leah pulled her into her arms for a harsh, hungry kiss.

"This is what you're missing," she whispered in Jackie's ear. Her fingers slipped between Jackie's thighs. Jackie pulled away slightly, then her legs opened. Leah nearly cried out at the silken wetness that greeted her. She thrust in, her fingers coated.

"Oh G.o.d," Jackie gasped. She threw her head back, moaning. "Yes."

"This is what you're missing," Leah whispered fiercely, looking into Jackie's face. "It's like this between women. It's called f.u.c.king, Jackie." Jackie groaned, her mouth open, eyes almost closed. "There's more, so much more."

Steps sounded on the walk outside. Leah pushed Jackie away, turned blindly to the sink. "Maybe when you're with him you'll imagine my mouth on you and wonder what it would have felt like."

Jackie let out a sound like a sob and ran from the kitchen. Leah shoved her hands under the tap, scrubbing away the traces of Jackie's readiness. She met Jackie's uncle as he knocked on the door.

Somehow she greeted him civilly. They'd met at the post office and market once or twice, and out walking in the woods. He was always civil. She invited him to warm up next to the fire while Jackie supposedly finished her shower. She asked about the height of the snow and pretended to listen to the detailed answer and his explanation of how they'd already winched Jackie's car up onto the road again. When Jackie hurried in, fully dressed in her own clothes, her face was as cool and calm as Leah had ever seen it. Glacier blue. Leah felt the familiar wall of unfeeling cold close around her.

She offered Jackie a pair of her gloves. Jackie insisted that Leah write out her address so she'd know where to send them.

They shook hands. Jackie's hand was like ice, but it trembled in Leah's grip.

Leah watched her trudge up the slope to her uncle's truck, then she pulled Butch out of the doorway and shut the door on the picture of Jackie going out of her life before she was really in it.

She'd been cruel. She'd never forgive herself.

Her own pain was almost too much to bear.

Butch began barking and wouldn't stop. Leah escaped into her studio and stared down at the sketches of the face she thought she'd known yesterday.

She seized a new pad. Any chalk, any color would do for now. Today's face slowly developed out of the paper like a photograph absorbing light. Jackie wanting her.

She tore the sheet from the pad and let it fall to the floor.

Jackie saying yes.

Colors this time.

The blue and silver of Jackie saying yes.

6.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you had the flu." Mary Nguyen leaned against Jackie's cubicle wall and regarded her with a faint hint of worry in her usually calm eyes.

Jackie had trouble meeting Mary's deep brown gaze. She'd been having trouble looking women in the face ever since the weekend. "How do you know I don't have the flu?"

"Because if you did you'd have called in sick like anyone with sense." She chewed on her lower lip.

"I'd trade a nice case of the flu for a week slaving on Mannings' behalf."

"Be careful what you wish for..." Jackie smiled weakly.

Mary shrugged. "I know, I could get it. When do you think the big powwow will be over?"

It was Jackie's turn to shrug. Ledcor & Bidwell's key partners were in conference with the representatives of a small but prominent nonprofit housing developer. "I don't know why they're so hot to have this project. It's too small for them."

"Politics, that's why. It may be small, but every city official will know the name of the architects who worked on it. And it's an affordable housing demonstration project that'll hopefully be repeated nationwide. The free publicity is worth a mint."

Jackie nodded. She knew all this. She'd been asked to submit a set of designs for review by the partners, but hers had not been chosen for the final presentation to the client. Small wonder. The overall concept she'd gone with was blending into the affluent neighborhood to look like just another small apartment building with cla.s.sic lines. Her creative efforts had been spent on the interior. Jackie didn't think people who lived there would want the building to stand out so everyone could point and say, "That's where the low income people live." Nor did she think the more affluent residents of the block would take to the extra traffic a "showpiece" would create. She'd bet they were already upset enough about low income people moving in.

Well, what did she know about it? The drawings that were being presented had been drawn up by the general partner and featured a post-modern art deco exterior.

"So why do you look so blue? You've been like this all week."

Jackie realized she'd drifted off in the middle of her conversation. She'd been doing that ever since she'd left Leah's house. Left Leah's arms. It's called f.u.c.king, Jackie. She shuddered from head to toe. Leah's voice whispered in her ear constantly, despite her attempts to get Leah out of her head.

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Mary's eyes reflected sympathetic concern.

All at once, Jackie registered Mary's short, short hair and thin braid, and the demure but still noticeable gold ear cuff. Stop it, she told herself. Lots of women in San Francisco look like that and they can't all be lesbians. She realized she hadn't answered Mary. "Maybe I am. I've been feeling very... strange lately."

A new voice cut across their conversation. "Sorry to interrupt, gals." Mannings leaned into Jackie's cube. "Could you gather your drawings for the AH project and come with me?"

Mystified, Jackie did as he'd asked and followed Mannings to the conference room.

"I'm afraid they don't care for the designs we've shown them and they hinted they wanted something less flashy."

Jackie let sarcasm creep into her voice. "So you thought of me."

Mannings gave her his snake-oil smile. "I thought your designs very good but I couldn't very well gainsay Randall, now could I?"

As Jackie straightened her jacket, she felt a familiar swelling of distaste for Mannings and L&B in general, tempered with the knowledge that she was feeling peevish because it had been her choice and hers alone to come here. At least she wasn't thinking about Leah. At least not much. She hadn't sent the gloves back yet because she didn't know what to put in the note. Thank you for turning my life upside down... thank you for making me want you...

"This is Jackie Frakes, one of our a.s.sociates," Randall announced after a nod of greeting in her direction. Jackie realized the general partner wasn't going to admit she wasn't yet licensed. "Jackie was tops in her cla.s.s at Taliesin, a very exclusive architecture school. You have the designs we worked on, don't you Jackie?" He smiled benevolently at her.

She did her best to hide her disbelief. The designs we worked on, she wanted to echo. She swallowed her disbelief and patiently set her drawings out on the table facing the row of client representatives and then unrolled the preliminary blueprints.

A large, stately black woman immediately picked up one of the exterior sketches. "Yes, this is much more what I have in mind. The project blends in." She looked at Jackie appraisingly. "I'm B.J. Taylor, and your name again was?"

Gratified, Jackie told her and then went into her cost estimates in some detail. She could tell Ms. Taylor and the others were pleased with the efforts she'd put into building out the interior with an eye to lower maintenance and upkeep costs in the long run. She could also feel that Randall was glad to have the clients delve into the details so thoroughly.

The group got up to leave about forty-five minutes later. Speaking directly to Jackie, Ms. Taylor said, "I'm very impressed. Frankly, we've only seen work like this from one other firm. You've managed to make the inside dimensions unusual but completely functional. Just because the outside blends in doesn't mean the inside should be boring. I would say we'll be deciding between your concept and the one we saw earlier today." There were nods of agreement all around.

Jackie thanked her and rose to her feet to shake hands.

Mannings said, "I hope it's not too forward of me to ask who the other firm is?"

"Neighborhood Design and Aesthetics."

Jackie could tell Randall and Mannings were hiding grimaces of distaste. Obviously, neither thought Neighborhood Design was in L&B's league.

Jackie sat in a daze while Randall escorted the clients to the main door and then returned. He was the picture of geniality.

"I think once they see the depth of experience that L&B can offer NDA doesn't stand a chance." He jangled change in his pocket while Mannings made noises of agreement.

Jackie found her voice and tried very hard to sound reasonable but firm, the way her father did when his patience was tried. "I'm very uncomfortable with the impression the client has. They're under the impression that I'm licensed."

"As long as the drawings have my name on them there's no problem," Randall said. Jackie realized he saw nothing wrong with the arrangement. Was this business as usual, she wondered. "Of course they need some modification, which I'll do as I work with the client."

"I want to be sure I'm clear about this arrangement," Jackie said slowly. Her voice was threatening to quaver. "At this point you're going to take my work and I won't be working with the client at all."

"The client will expect to work with a partner," Mannings said. "And working with Randall himself will demonstrate that even though the project is small, we take it very seriously."

Jackie gave him The Look. She knew that her work belonged to L&B and they could do what they liked with it. She could even live with losing credit for it. But not to be allowed to work on the project as it took shape - it would be like a chef never tasting her own food. "I would still like to keep my hand in. The client will never know I did the design on my own," she said. She had tried to sound calm, but her tone was belligerent.

"You're in training. If you want credit for your time..." Randall's voice trailed away significantly.

Jackie straightened her spine. So she was questioning all the other aspects of her life - s.e.x, love, commitment, everything. But she knew her own value at her work. She wasn't great, but she was very good. Her self-confidence was something they couldn't take. "Then I should not care that I won't even get to work on it?"

Randall said to Mannings, "I don't think that Taliesin does a good job of preparing students for the real world." He turned his back completely on her.

Jackie swallowed. Her stomach knotted. "Excuse me, but I think I have the flu. I haven't been feeling like myself for the last few days." She turned on her heel and walked out, trying to look as dignified as her mother had when she'd walked out of an art exhibit she'd found distasteful. She stopped at her desk long enough to pick up her f.a.n.n.y pack, satchel and coat.

In the elevator to the street she realized she was probably going to get fired, which would mean starting over with another architect. Mannings might not even sign her work-experience certificate.

She s.h.i.+vered for most of the bus ride home. Somehow she had managed to appear lighthearted at her aunt's. The drive home had been a blur. She'd been feeling weepy all week and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Lacking tissues, she used her sleeve to wipe away the trickles. She pushed back the sleeves for a moment and studied the bruises Leah had left on her arms after she'd cried for Sharla. They were fading, but they were the only thing about the weekend that was.

She stopped at the bakery on the corner and bought the largest, gooeyest cinnamon roll they had and then trudged up the three flights to her studio in the Victorian's attic. Its only good point was lack of next door neighbors. With the door locked behind her she allowed herself a self-indulgent cry.

When the tears abated she washed her face, took some aspirin and ate the cinnamon roll. She felt better with the sugar buzzing in her system. A creamy cup of her favorite blend of Peet's decaf- vanilla roast - restored some of her spirits.

When she had reached the stage of upbraiding herself for being a baby, the phone rang. She debated answering it. She decided she would - if it was Mannings she'd sound sniffling enough to convince him she really was sick.

Her mother's voice poured over the line and Jackie instantly felt better. Then she felt alarmed. "Why are you calling? Is Dad okay?"