“She wasn’t part of that crowd,” Leslie said.

• 69 •

RADCLY fFE

“We’re just going to hang out down at the boathouse,” Leslie said, watching

Dev stow her gear in her motorcycle bag. The sounds of car engines revving and

friends shouting to one another surrounded them.

“Just come for a while. It’s just girls.”

Dev shook her head. “I don’t think so, Les. I should get home. My parents will

probably need me in the store.”

“It’s still early. Just for an hour,” Leslie wheedled. For some reason, she really

wanted Dev to come to her house after school. It was hard to duck her other

friends all the time, and sometimes days would go by before she could see Dev

alone for a walk or for a few private minutes just to talk. In a couple of weeks,

she’d be graduating and summer would start. Dev would be working in the store

more and she’d be helping her parents at the lodge. It might be even harder to

see her then. If Dev would only socialize with the rest of Leslie’s friends, Leslie

could see her more. She missed her when she didn’t see her.

“Please, Dev.”

“Come on, Les. You’ll probably all be sitting around talking about makeup or

guys.”

“I promise I won’t mention Mike once within your hearing.” When Dev’s

expression tightened and she looked away, Leslie felt a surge of alarm. Dev was

so sensitive, and it was so hard to tell sometimes what she’d said wrong. She

hurried on, wanting to make Dev smile again. “I promise. We’ll play some pool

or something.”

Dev shot her a look. “Since when?”

“Hey!” Leslie grinned and slapped Dev’s arm. “I can play. I’m damn good at

it.”

Laughing, Dev caught Leslie’s wrist, and when Leslie took another playful swing

at her with her free hand, she caught that one too. “And what will we do after I

beat you in ten minutes?”

“Oh, you think?” Leslie gave Dev a teasing shove, and when Dev stumbled

back in surprise, still holding Leslie’s wrists, Leslie lost her balance too and fell

into her. They ended up in a tangle, half sprawled over the wide tank of Dev’s

motorcycle, Dev on the bottom with Leslie’s stomach and thighs pressed against

her, Leslie’s hands on Dev’s shoulders. Their faces were inches apart. Leslie

could feel Dev breathing hard under her, as if she’d been running for a long time.

Dev was only an inch or so shorter than Mike, and her body felt nearly as

• 70 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

hard, except where her small breasts just grazed Leslie’s. Leslie felt the tingling

again, like she had the week before when she’d ridden on the back of Dev’s

motorcycle, their bodies pressed close together. Except she wasn’t nervous this

time. This was Dev, and she had nothing to fear.

So close like this, she could see that Dev’s eyes were more green today,

probably because the sunlight slanted into them, making them glow.

Leslie watched, fascinated, as Dev’s pupils widened and her lips parted

soundlessly. She felt hands skim her waist.

“You ought to get up, Les,” Dev said unsteadily, “before we tip the bike over.”

Leslie didn’t want to move. Her breathing had speeded up, and her heart

seemed to race at the same pace as the pulse that hammered along Dev’s

tanned neck. The May sunshine warmed the backs of her bare legs, but she was

warmer still inside. Lazy and liquid and warm, like sugar bubbling on the stove.

Beneath her, Dev shivered. “Dev.

What—?”

Her voice came out thick and she wondered if she’d be able to stand up. Her

legs felt so heavy. She began to tremble.

Sounding almost panicked, Dev said more sharply, “Leslie. Get off.” She

grasped Leslie’s hips and pushed her away as she levered herself into a standing

position. “I gotta go.”

Leslie stared in an unfamiliar daze as Dev straddled her bike, kicked the engine

over, and roared away, leaving Leslie lonely in a way she’d never

experienced.

“Leslie,” Eileen Harris said, giving Leslie a concerned look. “Are you feeling all

right?”

“What?” Leslie said, looking around the kitchen as if she’d never seen it before.

She blinked and the past receded. “Sure. Just daydreaming.”

Eileen rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on a dish towel.

“I guess Devon wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who would have Þ t in very well

back then.”

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” Eileen said, clearly surprised by the heat

in Leslie’s voice. “She’s obviously intelligent and very nice. She just seems…

well, I can’t picture her as a girl interested in the things you and your friends—”

• 71 •

RADCLY fFE

“Thanks, Mom,” Leslie said, rising quickly. She stalked to the sink and ß ung

the dregs of her coffee into it before banging the cup down on the counter. “You

make the rest of us sound like we were airheads who spent all our time Þ xing

our hair and gossiping.”

Eileen’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t judging you or your friends, I just meant that

she seems different.”

“Different?” Leslie folded her arms over her chest. “Different from who? Who

you think we were or who we really were? Did you even have any idea who I

was?”

“I thought so,” Eileen said quietly. “At least as much as you let me know.”

“Me?” Leslie wanted to pace. More than that, she wanted to scream. That was

the moment she realized she was losing control, and she very deliberately shut

the door on her anger and her hurt. It was as if a cold wind blew through her,

obliterating the emotions that threatened to cloud her judgment and disturb the

balance she prided herself on having. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Those

things are long past, and whatever either of us did or didn’t do doesn’t matter

anymore.”

Eileen poured herself a cup of coffee. Quietly, she said, “Do you really believe

that?”

“Believe what?” Leslie said, comfortable now that reason ruled.

She and her mother had this kind of conversation every time they were in the

same room together for more than an hour. Since the day she’d left for college,

something critical in their relationship had changed.

They couldn’t agree on anything anymore.

“That things left undone, unresolved, don’t haunt us. That we can just walk

away from the past as if it never happened?” Eileen’s voice was pensive, tinged

with sadness. But there was no challenge, no accusation.

“I know that people change, everything changes. We are who we are now.”

What she didn’t add was strangers.

“Well, it might be nice to get acquainted again.”

Part of Leslie wanted to believe that, and part of her wondered how to begin.

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. “You should Þ nish making breakfast.

All the guests will be clamoring at the door in a minute. Why don’t I help.”

“You can get the eggs out of the refrigerator,” Eileen said, turning

• 72 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

back to the stove and sliding a large skillet over the gas burners. “Ever hear

from Mike?”

Leslie froze with the door to the refrigerator half open. “No.

Why?”

“He lives in the area and we see him from time to time. He always asks about

you.”

“I don’t think we’d have anything in common any longer.”

Eileen slit the plastic on a pound of bacon and lay strips in a cast-iron pan. “Are

you seeing anyone special?”

There it was, the opening that Leslie needed to tell her mother just how little she

actually knew of her. She realized that her mother was just making casual

conversation, and not probing for private information. The decision was hers—

reveal herself, or preserve the comfortable distance she had created between

herself and her family, and by extension, all that had existed up until the day

she’d left for college.

“I’m seeing someone,” Leslie said, wondering how to characterize her

relationship with Rachel. Not exactly serious? That wasn’t quite true. It was

exclusive and reasonably long term, so didn’t that make it serious? On the

surface it seemed that way, but that wasn’t how it felt.

In fact, the only word that came to mind was casual. Well, it wasn’t necessary

to examine all the details, when only one was truly relevant.

“A woman.”

The fork in her mother’s hand stilled above the pan of sizzling bacon for just a

second, then she resumed turning the meat. “Is that something recent?” She

looked at Leslie over her shoulder. “I never realized you were interested in

women that way.”

You never told me. The accusation hung in the air and Leslie carefully edged

around it. Trying to explain why she’d never mentioned it meant revisiting events

and feelings that had no place in her life now. She slid the cardboard carton of

eggs onto the counter next to her mother. “I’ve known for a few years. Since

college.”

“That’s quite a long time now,” Eileen said, the hurt evident in her tone.