Hidden Truths (44 page)

A clearing of her throat drew Tess's attention to Amy.
"Mama said she knows about... about you. Does Papa know too?"

"Yes, they both know. I told Luke when we met him in
The Dalles and Nora has known since our first evening here, right after we
arrived."

Russet lashes fluttered. "They know and still they let
you stay?"

Defensive instincts rose, but Tess fought them down. Amy
didn't sound appalled or judgmental, as if she wanted Nora to kick them out.
There's
something in her voice...
She tried to read Amy's expression even though
Amy's glance still veered away from hers. Emotions rushed across the young
woman's face.
Hope. Relief.

Tess stared for a few seconds longer.
Oh, good heavens!
Why didn't I see it before? This is not about us. She's confused about her own
feelings.
Tess's grip tightened around Frankie's hand until Frankie
flinched.
Oh, Lord. I think Amy has feelings for women too, and she's scared
to death to tell her parents. Now what do I do?

*  *  *

"Amy?"

Footfalls came closer and stopped in front of the tack room,
where Amy had fled to after escaping from the cabin.

Amy looked up from a particularly stubborn sweat spot on her
saddle. She set down the saddle soap and gritted her teeth. Someone had found her
hiding place. "Yes?" She didn't bother to make her voice friendly.
Couldn't she have a moment's peace?

The tack room's door creaked open. Frankie peeked in. She
wore pants and a man's shirt. The sight had always made Amy feel at ease around
her, but now it was a reminder of how different from other women Frankie was —
and how different Amy was too.

"There you are," Frankie said. Her nose wrinkled
at the odor of sweaty saddle blankets and horsehair, but she didn't retreat.
She leaned in the doorway and studied Amy. "So this is your
hideaway."

"I'm not hiding. The saddles need —"

"I had a hideaway too when I was your age."
Frankie ignored Amy's protests with a smile. "Whenever I needed time away
from my brothers, I slipped into the Chinese laundry. It was just a shack,
really, but the couple running it let me stay as long as I didn't get in the
way."

Amy nodded. She had seen Portland's Chinatown. Most folks
didn't like the Chinese, so they were outsiders, like Frankie.

"I spent many afternoons watching Mei Ling iron the
miners' shirts. She was stoop-shouldered from bending over the hot iron all the
time, but she had the most elegant neck and eyes like the night. And when she
smiled..." Frankie grinned.

She was smitten with the Chinese woman, and she's talking
about it as if it was the most natural thing on earth.
Amy still couldn't
wrap her mind around it. "Did she...?" Amy didn't know how to ask or
even what to ask. There were so many things she wanted to know.

"Did she like me too?" Frankie finished the question
for her. "Probably not. Not that way. Back then, even I didn't know I
liked her that way. It took me years to figure out what was going on with
me."

All the afternoons spent riding with Hannah came back to
Amy. Had Frankie watched Mei Ling the way she had watched Hannah? Had she
delighted in her company, in the pleasure of her laughter and the occasional
touch to her arm? An image of Rika in the hayloft, face flushed and hair
tussled, replaced the old memories.

Does Frankie feel the same things I do? And Tess? Am I
like them?

"I think you know what I mean, don't you?" Frankie
asked.

The saddle slid out of Amy's hands and thumped to the floor.
She knows! Oh, Lord, how can she know?
She had always been so careful
not to give herself away, and now... Her throat constricted.

Frankie stepped across the threshold and firmly closed the
door.

With movements that felt clumsy, Amy picked up the saddle
and heaved it onto an empty rack. Her muscles trembled, not from the saddle's
weight but from fear. If Frankie knew, would she tell Mama? Had she already
told her?

Her parents loved her, but they wouldn't understand. And how
could they, when Amy didn't understand it herself?

Frankie ducked past bridles, halters, and harness pieces
hanging from pegs. She turned over an empty bucket and sat on it. "Have
you ever admired a woman's body, Amy? Ever found yourself stopping to breathe
in the scent of her skin? Wanted to say something witty just to see her
smile?"

An image of Rika's gap-toothed grin flashed through Amy. She
knew she was guilty of everything Frankie just described. At night, she often
tried to delay falling asleep so she could breathe in Rika's scent a while
longer and could admire her form in the moonlight while Rika slept.

She had told herself it was just friendship. She admired
Rika and her strength; that was all. For a while, she could almost make herself
believe it. But then she had seen Frankie and Tess kiss — and it brought home
the true meaning of her feelings.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Amy
mumbled, not meeting Frankie's gaze.

The bucket scraped across the floor as Frankie slid closer.
"You don't have to talk to me, but please don't lie to me. I've been where
you are now. I know what you are going through, and I know lying to yourself
and to your friends will only make it harder."

"Harder than being chased out of town? Harder than my
family hating me? Harder than burning in hell?" The long buried words
broke out of Amy.

"Amy, don't let your fears —"

"Does your family know about... you know?"

Frankie's jaw tightened. "They know."

"And?"

"The last time I saw my brothers, they spat in my
face." Frankie didn't look away, didn't lower her head, so the pain in her
eyes was plain to see. "Not everyone will accept our kind of love. Most
people probably won't. You need to be careful. But that doesn't mean you should
give up on love."

Amy shook her head. "As long as I can control these...
urges, everything is fine."

"Sure, just like my life was fine before I found
Tess." Frankie's voice vibrated with fierce determination, but her gaze
was soft. "But now it's complete. There's a big difference, and you'll
understand it once you stop hating that part of yourself."

Amy shook her head. She didn't want to hear it. The price
was too high.

With a touch to Amy's shoulder, Frankie stood. "All
right. I can see that you're not ready to talk about this. Just know that Tess
and I are always here to talk." She walked to the door.

"Frankie," Amy called. Every fiber of her being
trembled. For the first time, someone knew her deepest, darkest secret.
"You'll keep this to yourself, won't you? You won't tell my parents?"

A sad gaze met hers. "I won't say a word, but I wish
you'd talk to your mother. She didn't bat an eye when she found out about Tess
and me. She won't think less of you either."

Could that really be true? Mama seemed fine with Tess and
Frankie, but maybe it was different when it was her own daughter.
I don't
know. I don't know anything anymore.

The door slid closed with an echoing click. Frankie was
gone, leaving Amy with her thoughts in turmoil.

T
HE
BANG OF WOOD crashing against wood greeted Rika as she entered the stable.

There she is.

Amy's red curls bounced up and down above a stall door.

The door whispered closed behind Rika, and she stood
observing, unnoticed by Amy.

Amy hurled pitchfork after pitchfork of manure into the
wheelbarrow. The pitchfork's handle crashed against the wall, and straw flew
everywhere, but Amy continued to work like a possessed woman. She stopped just
long enough to jerk up her shirtsleeves. The muscles of her forearms bunched.
Her shirt clung to her torso, and drops of sweat beaded on her golden-hued
skin.

Rika licked her lips.

Women are wonderful,
Tess had said. With her unusual
strength and her gentle passion for life, Amy certainly was. In moments like
this, Rika understood what drew Frankie and Tess to each other.

The thought was new and unsettling, but at the same time, it
just fit.

She gave a cough to let Amy know she was there.

Amy whirled around, the pitchfork lifted as if to ward off
an attacker.

Rika stepped back and raised her hands. "Just me."

Grunting, Amy set down the pitchfork. She rolled down her
sleeves and buttoned the cuffs as if feeling exposed under Rika's gaze.

In the sudden silence, a horse snuffled for any food the
visitors might have brought.

This is awkward.
Before, they had been friends, but
learning that Frankie and Tess were sweethearts made Rika aware that women
could be more than friends. Could they be more than friends for her?

She shook her head at herself.
You're marrying Phineas,
remember?

Amy picked up the pitchfork again. Horse apples landed half
in, half out of the wheelbarrow.

"Want me to help?" Rika asked.

"No, thanks."

Rika leaned against the stall door and watched. Clearly, Amy
wanted to be alone, but Rika needed to talk. She plucked at a stalk of straw
that had gotten caught in her hair. One of her hairpins slipped, and a shock of
hair fell into Rika's face. "Why do you think Frankie and Tess love each
other and not men?"

"I don't know," Amy said.

"Have you ever met other women like that?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about
it."

Rika looked up and found Amy glancing at her hair.

Scowling, Amy wrenched her gaze away.

"We are friends, right?" Rika asked. "If I
can't talk to you about this, there's no one else that I feel comfortable
talking to."

"Why would you want to talk about this at all?"
Amy grumbled.

Rika gave up on trying to fix her hair. "Don't you find
it riveting? Two women together... I never heard of that. Aren't you
curious?"

"No," Amy said. She grabbed a shovel and scooped
up urine spots in one corner of the stall so Rika couldn't see her face. The
tension in the strong shoulders was unmistakable, though.

"Do you find it disgusting?" Rika asked. Amy sure
acted as if she did.

"Do you?"

"No."

Now Amy threw a glance over her shoulder. Her gaze darted
over Rika's face, searching for the truth. "You don't?"

"They love each other." It was so evident in their
glances and little touches that Rika now wondered how she had missed it for so
long. "It's unusual, yes, but..."

"But?" Amy prompted. She leaned on the shovel,
gaze resting on Rika, transfixed.

"They seem happy together, happier than some women are
in their marriage," Rika said. "My husband ignored me and hid at the
bottom of a bottle instead of sharing his pain with me." The memories
hurt, but now she understood that it hadn't been her fault. It hadn't been her
plainness that failed to keep him interested. "My father used to shout at
my stepmother. I never heard him talk to her with tenderness. And I watched
your uncles with their wives when they visited the cotton mill. They treated
them like servants. I don't think Tess and Frankie would ever treat each other
like that."

Maybe it wasn't for the pastor to decide that their love was
a sin while some of the unhappy marriages she had observed, with all their
indifference and cruelty, were considered normal.

Amy's hands relaxed around the shovel. She exhaled slowly.
The tension fled from her sturdy frame. "Not all marriages are like that,
you know? My papa and mama still behave like newlyweds when they think no one's
watching. And sometimes, when I'm out riding line, I see Jacob Garfield pick
flowers for Bernice — after thirty-five years of marriage."

A wistful sigh escaped Rika. She wanted that. Not the
flowers, but being loved enough that someone would waste an hour of daylight to
pick them for her. "Do you think Frankie and Tess could have that with a
husband?"

Amy stared at the dust motes dancing on beams of sunlight.
"I don't know." She sounded badly shaken, as if she didn't know what
to think anymore.

"Why is this upsetting you so? You never seemed to care
what other people think."

"I don't." Amy turned and scraped at the urine
spots in the corner. "And I'm not upset."

Rika shoved back the bolt and pushed through the stall door.
Two strides and she grabbed Amy's shoulder and dragged her around. "You
know what? You are exactly like your horses." She stabbed a finger at Amy.
"You look tough and act all confident, but you scare easily."

"I'm not scared." Amy's shaking voice belied her
words.

"Oh, no? You're shaking like a leaf." Concern
soothed Rika's anger, and she gentled her voice. "Why are you so
scared?"

Amy shook her head. "Not scared."

"Liar," Rika said with affection. For once, she
felt as if she were the horse tamer and Amy the scared creature that needed
gentling. She took the shovel from Amy's limp grasp and pulled Amy against her,
hoping to ease her fears, whatever they were.

At first, Amy stiffened. Then she struggled and tried to
break the embrace.

"Easy, easy." Rika let go. "You don't have to
be afraid of me. I'm your friend."

Finally, Amy sank against Rika and buried her face against
Rika's shoulder.

Her warmth pressed against Rika. Rhythmic waves of breath
brushed over the bare skin of Rika's throat. Shivers trailed down her body. She
cleared her throat and focused on Amy. "Want to talk about what's
bothering you?" Rika asked, slipping into the familiar role of caretaker.

Red locks brushed Rika's chin as Amy shook her head.

"All right." Rika closed her eyes and held Amy
until her breathing calmed. Only then did she notice that she trembled too.