“I guess it is.” Leslie sighed, knowing she’d added another disappointment. “It
just never seemed to come up.”
“But this is what you want? You’re happy?”
• 73 •
RADCLY fFE
Happy. Why was that the word that everyone used to deÞ ne what mattered?
As if that were all that anyone should strive for, some ß eeting, irrational, and
often false emotion. “It’s who I am.” She reÞ lled her coffee cup and started
toward the door. “I’m going to skip breakfast. I’ll see you later.” She didn’t
wait for her mother’s reply.
v
Dev carried a plate laden with scones, scrambled eggs, and bacon in one hand
and a cup of coffee in the other. Watching the path from the cabins for Leslie,
she settled into a wicker chair on the front porch and balanced the plate on her
knee.
She jumped when a voice behind her said, “You eat like a lumberjack.”
“It’s the air. Whenever I’m in the mountains, my appetite triples.”
Dev grinned up at Leslie, who was backlit in the morning sunlight. All she could
see was her silhouette and the halo of gold around her face.
She was angled so that the dark, smooth curve of her breast arced above the
plane of her body, reminding Dev of the mountains rising above the lake. She
swallowed, her hunger suddenly shifting to something far more primal than
breakfast. “You eat already?”
Leslie settled onto the substantial porch railing and wrapped one arm around the
smooth column that rose to the roof. She sipped her second cup of coffee.
“Yes.”
Somehow, Dev had a suspicion that coffee was Leslie’s main breakfast staple.
She wore jeans, a short-sleeved boat-neck T-shirt, and sneakers. Although her
dress was more relaxed than the day before, nothing else about her was. Her
body still looked like an overly tight spring. Dev could nearly hear the tension
humming in the air around her.
“Have you been waiting long?” Dev asked, since she’d arrived precisely at 6:30
a.m. She hadn’t seen Leslie inside.
“I got here a half an hour ago or so. Then I went for a walk down to the lake.”
Dev tried a scone, which was delicious, and sipped her coffee.
“I’ll be Þ nished in a few minutes and we can get going.”
“There’s no hurry. We’re on your schedule today.”
• 74 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“No schedule. What we don’t get done today, we’ll do tomorrow.
Or the next day.”
Leslie shook her head. “Interesting approach.”
Dev grinned. “Probably not what you’re used to.”
“No.” Leslie scanned the house, then followed a couple as they came out the
front door and disappeared down the path with their arms around one another.
She blocked out the image. “Not exactly.”
“Something happen this morning?” Dev asked quietly.
“No. Why?”
“I just wondered if you were always this uptight, or if something special caused
it.”
“I’m not uptight.” Leslie frowned, thinking of all the work she had left unÞ
nished and the fact that she was essentially blowing it off to follow Dev around.
“I’m just not used to inactivity.”
“I don’t suppose you have one of those do-it-yourself blood-pressure kits, do
you?”
“What?” Leslie stared. “What are you talking about?”
Dev slid her plate onto the table next to her chair and stood. “I think you should
get one. I bet your blood pressure is through the roof right now.”
“I bet it will be if you keep being so irritating,” Leslie snapped, sliding off the
railing. “I didn’t tell you about my little problem so you could badger me.”
“I’m sorry.” Dev resisted the urge to catch Leslie’s wrist as she stalked to the
steps. “It’s not my business.”
Leslie turned at the foot of the stairs and looked back up, shading her eyes in
the glare. “You’re right. It isn’t. Are you ready to go?”
“Let me take my dishes inside and I will be.”
When Dev rejoined Leslie a minute later, she said, “Your mother asked if we
wanted lunch packed, but I told her we’d probably be back by then. She said
to tell you to have a good time.”
Leslie sighed as they started toward the parking lot. “I told her I was going out
with you this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I?” Dev unlocked the passenger door to her truck for Leslie.
“Some people value their privacy. Besides, you didn’t used to be this social.”
• 75 •
RADCLY fFE
Dev walked to the driver’s side and got in as Leslie climbed in next to her. She
slid the key into the ignition but didn’t start it. Instead, she turned in the seat to
face Leslie, who regarded her with faint suspicion.
“That was a long time ago, Les. And I didn’t have a lot in common with most of
my peers.”
“Makeup and boys,” Leslie murmured.
“What?”
Leslie shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Dev said quietly. “I thought spending a few
hours out on the lake might be fun for you, but I just seem to be adding to your
aggravation. I don’t want to spoil your vacation.”
“It isn’t you.”
“I’m the only one here.”
“I had one of those mother-daughter moments this morning,”
Leslie said, the words pushing out as if they’d been under pressure to escape.
“A few moments, actually. I told my mother I was a lesbian.”
Dev stiffened and for an instant, she felt dizzy. She gripped the steering wheel
and waited for the world to stop spinning. It was the last thing she’d expected to
hear. It hurt her head, broke her heart all over again, just to hear the words.
Leslie had turned from her, rejected her, wiped out everything they’d ever
shared, because Leslie hadn’t wanted her. Because Leslie hadn’t felt what she
felt. Because Dev had been wrong, different, queer. She’d lived with that eating
away inside her until she’d buried it, all of it. And now the past rose up to mock
her hard-won victory. How could it be that Leslie was a lesbian?
Dev reached down and turned the ignition, but her legs shook so badly she
couldn’t step on the gas. The engine idled.
The silence in the cab was stiß ing. Leslie saw the blood drain from Dev’s face,
and she wondered if Dev felt as her mother did, that the past was a ghost that
haunted the present until the injustices were atoned for. Some of their ghosts,
Dev’s and hers—perhaps all of them—were shared, and she had no idea how
to exorcise them. When Dev Þ nally turned to stare at her, her eyes held more
sorrow than Leslie could bear.
Knowing she was the cause, she had to look away. “I didn’t know, Dev.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dev whispered.
• 76 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Leslie shook her head and forced herself to face Dev. “It was. You know it
was.”
“Les—”
“You almost died, Dev. Because of me.”
• 77 •
• 78 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER NINE
The fog had rolled in off the water, as it often did in the mountains, and the
combination of the haze and the pain and the beer made it so hard to focus on
the narrow sliver of blacktop that ß ickered in and out of Dev’s sight. Her side
ached like a bad cramp from running too hard and too far, the beer rolled
around in her stomach in search of a way out, and she hurt. God, how she hurt.
The echo of Leslie’s words shredded her heart. She’s nothing to me. She’s
nobody.
Dev blinked back tears, but her vision was no clearer. She burned with hot
shame and guilt for what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t meant to
kiss her. Not even to touch her. No. Not true. She could admit it now, couldn’t
she? After what she’d done. She’d wanted to touch her. For so long. She
hadn’t thought of anything else for months except seeing Leslie, being close to
her, stealing accidental touches.
She thought of nothing but her smile. Not true. Stop lying. She thought about
her eyes, how soft they got when Leslie was telling her some special secret. She
thought about the curve of her lips, the way they parted in surprise and grew
moist when she laughed. She thought about her breasts, the way they rose
beneath her T-shirt and swayed just a little in her bathing suit.
Dev choked back a groan and revved the engine harder. She knew the road by
heart, she didn’t need to see it. She leaned into the turns, so low her knee nearly
dragged over the road surface. Admit it. Tell the truth. She’d thought about
Leslie’s breasts, and her hips, and what lay between her thighs. She’d thought
about touching her there while she’d touched herself. At Þ rst she hadn’t
understood, had pretended not to recognize what she felt. But after a while, she
couldn’t pretend that the
• 79 •
RADCLY fFE
ache in the pit of her stomach and the hot hard longing between her legs wasn’t
because of Leslie.
Tears streamed from her eyes. She’s nothing to me. Distantly, she heard the
sound of an engine roaring. Bright lights slashed into the fog, blinding her. She
torpedoed into the Þ rst curve of an S-turn hard and fast, Þ ghting to keep the
"When Dreams Tremble" отзывы
Отзывы читателей о книге "When Dreams Tremble". Читайте комментарии и мнения людей о произведении.
Понравилась книга? Поделитесь впечатлениями - оставьте Ваш отзыв и расскажите о книге "When Dreams Tremble" друзьям в соцсетях.