The Storm (26 page)

“Okay, backing up is a challenge. Let me get us out of the driveway and find a straight stretch where you can practice steering and shifting.”

They sped along the center of the hard-packed main road, or what most people in the area called the pike. Leaving the farm with Molly at her side—what a treat. They smiled at each other and breathed in the fresh air whipping around them. It was dusty, too, but she didn't care. The sun shone like it was smiling at them, but it didn't scorch her like it usually did. Right now, she was immune to anything unpleasant. If only they could keep going and never turn back.

On the longest, straightest stretch of smooth road in the county, she stopped but kept the engine running. “We don't want to crank this contrary thing again unless we have to, so I'll scoot over as far as I can. Edge toward me and put your right foot next to mine on this pedal. Keep it pushed down, because it's the brake. We don't want the car to run away with you while I walk around to the other side.”

Molly's hip pressed against hers, and her own motor began to rev up—so high she had to force herself to check that Molly had her foot firmly on the pedal before she raced to the passenger's side. She made it successfully, slightly out of breath—and not from her sprint.

Trying to calm her heart, which was clattering more than the engine, she kept talking. “Now, take your foot off the brake and press the pedal on the left at the same time. Slowly. That'll shift the car into low gear.”

Molly did exactly what Jaq said.

“At the same time you'll need to give it a little gas with that lever on the steering wheel. Nice and smooth.”

Molly clearly tried her best, but the auto jumped then sputtered. “Mercy. That's what happened when Mr. James and Clyde tried to teach me. They laughed at me, and I got so discouraged I quit.” She looked like she was about to cry.

“Well, you won't get by with that now. You can learn to drive. All it takes is time and practice. You didn't play the piano well the first time you tried, did you?”

She shook her head. “No, come to think of it.” Pushing her shoulders back like a soldier adjusting to a heavy pack, Molly opened the door and hopped out. “Okay, Jaq, let's crank it again.”

*

Molly—who had tried to conquer her husband's Overland and failed—could drive.

Jaq had explained how to use the three pedals and the levers so clearly that when they sped down the pike, she didn't even have to press the pedals. Compared to playing the organ, driving was simple.

However, rocketing along, she had to force herself not to stare at Jaq. She kept her eyes straight ahead and anticipated sudden stops. They seldom met another vehicle, but when they did, she moved from the center to the right side of the pike so they could pass. And when the road really narrowed, which it did in spots, she pulled halfway off while the other automobile eased by.

Jaq patiently smiled, so she used all her self-discipline to drive them safely home. She would much rather have stopped and hugged Jaq. She parked beside the wagon at the McCades' house and opened her door with a flourish. Perhaps now Jaq would find her more interesting, though she couldn't possibly compare to her fine British and Eastern friends.

“How about a glass of cider to celebrate your success? I made some the other day, and it's tolerable.”

“That sounds wonderful. I'm thirsty. I'll wait here in the swing. I hate to miss any of this beautiful day. And I expect you to keep your promise about showing me your men's clothes.”

She moved the swing languidly in the September heat. But the pines stood still, as if the very atmosphere held its breath and waited for something. When Jaq walked back out, dressed as a man, she stared, amazed at the transformation. Jaq was as handsome as she was beautiful, and Molly loved her either way.

“How have you been, Molly?”

Jaq handed Molly a glass of cider and sat in a rocking chair, which she immediately set to moving to distract herself. She longed to sit next to Molly on the swing but didn't trust herself, especially wearing these clothes. They reminded her of visiting Willie.

She decided to forge ahead. “I mean how have you really been? Why haven't you called?”

Molly took a long drink and pushed the swing into a faster rhythm. “Umm, how tasty. You're turning into a good farm wife, even if you look more like a farmer.” She paused. “I'm only kidding.”

“Of course.” She rotated her head from side to side, then forward, and popped her neck. All her muscles were cramping because she was so close to Molly but had to keep her hands away. Abruptly, she said, “I don't belong here, but you don't either.”

Molly looked a little startled and changed the subject. “I've been thinking about our conversation at the picnic…and our kiss. It confused me at first, and I didn't know whether to be afraid, ashamed, or embarrassed. Then I realized that no matter what people label us—inverts, or perverts, or whatever—we're still Molly Riley and Jaq Bergeron, two people who care for each other. And it doesn't matter whether we look like men or women.”

When Molly said “care,” Jaq quivered with affection. Molly had taken care of her when she was hurt, and she wanted to take care of Molly in so many ways. But she also wanted to understand exactly what she meant. When Molly said “care for each other,” did she mean love or did she mean friendship? She wanted to ask Molly what their kiss had meant to her, but she was afraid of the answer. Instead, she kept her distance by asking, “Why didn't you use our husbands' names? We're still married, I'm sorry to say.”

Molly shook her head and her red curls bounced. “Not in my eyes. I should have said we're just Molly and Jaq, and our fathers' names simply point out where we came from.” Her eyes danced. “Don't you see? The names Russell and McCade may show our current situation and tell the world the names of the two men we're attached to—who supposedly protect us from it—but they don't indicate where we're going.”

Did Molly actually think they had a chance together? Oh, why couldn't she just ask that simple question? Was Molly as nervous about this situation as she was?

Molly's eyes gleamed with mischief, though, as she said in a playful tone, “I've been talking a lot to my wise friends on the farm.”

What was Molly up to? Jaq knew good and well that Molly didn't have anyone to talk to. But if she wanted to beat around the bush, Jaq would play along. “Why, I didn't know you had many friends around here.” She forced herself to adopt a light tone similar to Molly's.

Molly sighed with what seemed like relief. “Most people wouldn't understand me when I talk about my friends, but you might. One is very independent, and when she gets tired of listening, she simply disappears. But if the weather's fine, she'll sit in the sun and pay attention to me for as long as I can spare. Just yesterday I told her all about you. How you agreed to teach me to drive and how brave you are—going over to Europe during wartime. She lay there on her log and sunned herself as I jabbered on. Then, with a splash, she vanished.”

“Oh,” Jaq said. Molly was definitely teasing her. “Who listened to you next?”

She stretched one arm over her head and grinned in an unladylike way. “Well, my second friend never disappears like my first one. She simply stands still and listens while I talk about you. And as I rave about your beauty, she gives me a valuable, life-sustaining gift. We visit twice a day, and the better I treat her, the better she treats me. She's warm and comforting. And though she's been known to kick when she gets angry, she's always gentle with me. I can talk my heart out, and she just looks at me with her big brown eyes and lets me ramble on.”

She laughed at Molly's antics.

“Let me tell you about my third friend. In fact, you've already met her and her sisters, who visit only when it's warm. But when they do, they brighten up the place. She and her kind are beautiful, though she does have her sharp side if I don't handle her carefully. I can wander around her abode forever, chatting as much as I want, and she merely perfumes the air and lets me be. Actually, she's the one who let me glimpse how glorious my life could be if I allowed my feelings to flow naturally. She's rooted yet always aspires for beauty. She gives pleasure to anyone who takes time to notice her, yet she can protect herself. And she's not afraid to be herself completely.”

Jaq drank her cider, set her glass on a low table beside her chair, and made it rock again. “So, have you finished your tall tales, or do you plan to treat me to another one?”

Molly smiled and glanced up at the pines that grew near the house. “I forgot to mention my oldest and dearest friends, who live all over East Texas. If I ever leave here, I'll miss them the most. They're so straight and tall, and they bend with whatever wind blows them.” She wiggled like a child. “Now it's time for you to guess who I've been talking about, Miss Jacqueline.”

After dramatically scratching her head and creasing her brow, she cleared her throat and recited in her best schoolgirl voice. “Miss Molly, the answer to your first riddle is a turtle. Am I right? Who else lies on a log and suns herself?”

Molly applauded. “One hundred percent, Miss Bergeron. And your second answer, if you please.”

“Hmm, this one's easy. Big brown eyes, gifts twice a day, and kicks occasionally. I'd have to say that's your milk cow, though I've never gotten close enough to ours to be absolutely sure of my answer.”

“Two out of two. That's wonderful, missy. Just two more to go.” Molly laughed more freely than she'd ever heard her.

“Beautiful, rooted, can be sharp. I imagine that's the roses we visited the day we made rose water. And your tall, straight, flexible friends must be the pines that grow around here like weeds.” She finished her answers with a formal bow, as if she'd just impressed the strictest nun at her school.

Molly beamed. “Congratulations. You're the best student in the class. And because you performed so outstandingly, you get a prize.” She sprang up, stooped down, and lightly kissed her cheek.

She stopped rocking and drew Molly close. Her cheek flamed. “That's the best prize I've ever won. If all the nuns had rewarded me half so sweetly, I'd have been a much better student. But, seriously, you're not afraid of me because I'm an invert? That's not why you've been avoiding me?”

Molly stared, her green eyes reflecting the color of the surrounding forest and making it seem not nearly so ominous. “Oh, Jaq, I could never be afraid of you. You've brought the world to me and heaped it into my lap like a shower of rose petals. You've listened to me rant about Mother Russell and always taken my side. You've awakened parts of me that I'd forgotten about. And you didn't even laugh when I told you who I confide in.”

Molly kept standing by her side, and the smell of rose water and Ivory soap distracted her so completely she almost missed Molly's next words.

“I truly don't believe we should let other people label us. We should just be ourselves, each with our unique mixture of strengths and weaknesses.”

She had to grip the arms of her rocking chair to keep from jumping up and taking Molly in her arms. The longer she knew Molly, the more she discovered what a sensitive musician and loving person she was—trying to survive in a hostile environment like an orchid attempting to grow in the desert. But she sat still, forcing herself to listen in spite of the way her flesh itched for Molly's.

“For as long as I can remember, no one cared if we women had best friends. Everyone encouraged our smashes at school. And Mama's told me about some of her friends who turned their husbands out of their beds when a woman friend came to visit. They wanted to spend as much time together as they could, and bed was such a cozy place for intimate talks, she said.”

Ah. Why hadn't Molly done that when she'd stayed with her all those days? That would have been so much better than recuperating alone. Molly's confidences and strong arms would have comforted her all night. Her thoughts were irrational, but she was in a strange mood. Molly looked down at her like an indulgent schoolmarm. She'd love to be that teacher's pet.

“Do you think those sex doctors would tell Mother Russell that she's a man trapped in a woman's body?” she said. “She can work as hard as one—split wood, plow fields, and draw well water. And she can certainly boss people around better than most men. Just because she's strong, is she an invert? She can survive in a man's world, but nobody would dare label her. If they even tried, she'd tell them to go to the devil.”

She and Molly laughed together. She hadn't felt this happy since she was a child before the Great Storm.

“Strong women are simply that—strong—whether they wear a skirt or pants,” Molly said. “They're merely being themselves, not trying to be like men. And if they happen to love other women, that's their right.”

My God. She'd ached to touch Molly, but now she craved to understand where such thoughts came from. She wanted to explore her mind as well as her body, and to do that she needed to be with Molly every day. Molly wasn't a child. She was a woman. “When you put it that way, I can see your point,” she said. Molly's statement bowled her over. She couldn't be any more astonished if her mules sang “Pack Up Your Troubles” in French. “So you don't think I need to find someone to cure me of my preference for women?”

Molly's eyes gleamed. “It would be a waste of good money, Jaq.”

When Molly returned to the swing after standing beside Jaq's rocking chair, she missed their closeness. But if she let herself stay so near, she might do something she'd regret later. So she sat alone again and resumed swinging while Jaq went back inside to change clothes.

Back and forth. Back and forth. The gentle motion almost hypnotized her, and she recalled a line from a letter she'd written Mr. James several months before they married. She could still see her words flowing straight across the page in her small, neat script. Trying to tell him she couldn't keep his ring, she had considered each word carefully before she committed it to paper.
I can't understand why I yield to you, believe that I love you and say so, act so, then doubt my own heart, wonder at my actions when you are gone.