One Degree of Separation (13 page)

Eric nodded serenely as he rose. “Mary Jane’s ahead right now.”

“It’s like shooting fish in a barrel,” Mary Jane said. “Which is not to say it isn’t fun.”

They wandered off, laughing, and Liddy watched Marian’s face slowly resume a more normal hue.

Marian sipped her water. “Who needs friends ...”

“When do you have to be at work?”

“Two.”

“Oh, so you
would
need lunch around one.”

“Sure.”

“And if you needed lunch at one—” Liddy glanced at her watch—”two hours and fifteen minutes from now, where would a person find you, needing your lunch?”

“Hell, the way this week has gone, you’d find me at the Java House face down in the Colossal Chocolate Cake.”

“That bad?”

Marian’s gaze lifted from her empty paper plate and Liddy found herself falling into a mix of golds and greens.
Hazel
was just too ordinary to describe Marian’s eyes. Her breath stopped for a moment.

“My week is definitely getting better,” Marian murmured just before her lips touched Liddy’s in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Swear to freakin’ god, Liddy thought. If anyone had told her she’d get kissed at a pancake breakfast in Iowa City, she’d have never believed them. Marian tasted deliciously of strawberry. Then the kiss wasn’t sweet anymore, it was wet and hot, and needles of electricity shot up and down the insides of Liddy’s thighs.

Where, she wondered, had Marian the Librarian from Iowa City learned to kiss like this? Light touches were followed by brushes of lips and a fleeting touch of her tongue that left Liddy feeling as if she’d never considered the passion a woman’s mouth could hold before. Which was ridiculous. She’d been kissed plenty of times.

But not like this.

It felt so good that it took her a moment to realize that Marian had pulled away. She was belatedly aware that she had a stupidly satisfied grin on her face and she attempted to conjure up some dignity.

Marian wasn’t blushing. If anything she looked smug.

“I could go away now and look for you at the Java House at one,” Liddy finally said.

Marian’s fingertips touched the inside of Liddy’s forearm. “If that’s what you want.”

“Or we could have lunch now.” Her arm tingled where Marian was lightly brushing it.

“We just had breakfast.”

“We could skip the food and make it a really long lunch.” Marian’s gold-green eyes were serious. “I’m not ready for more than ... this. I’m hardly prepared for how this feels.” Her fingertips traced the inside of Liddy’s wrist.

“I wasn’t suggesting we go somewhere and ... you know.” Part of her had been. And she was the one who hated being presumed available. Damn, now
she
was blushing. “Maybe we could go to a movie.

Or see the sights. Or something. Since we’re both here and I assume you’ve got the time to take pity on a California girl who doesn’t know her way around.”

“You know your way around fine. Just watch those U-turns.” Marian’s eyes were sparkling now. “But okay, maybe I can give you a tour of the lovely lakes and point out native flora and fauna.”

It was the last thing Liddy usually wanted to do, but right then she’d have gone anywhere Marian suggested, on the hope that sooner or later Marian would kiss her again. Swear to freakin’ god, Liddy, what happened to pledging off women and sex for a while?

Marian the Librarian is what had happened, she told herself. “You’re on.”

Marian carried their breakfast detritus to the nearest trash can.

Liddy watched her walking back, so enamored of the way the olive T-shirt clung to Marian’s curves that she didn’t read the lettering at first. When she did she burst out laughing.

“What?” Marian abruptly looked nervous.

“Are you?” Liddy stared pointedly at Marian’s T-shirt.

Marian glanced down, then the tips of her ears tinted pink. But her voice was nearly a purr when she asked, “Which part?”

“I already know you’re a librarian. Can I really check you out?”

“This is a public place.” Marian slid back onto the bench next to Liddy. “And there are children about. So I don’t think checking me out is a good idea.”

Liddy leaned forward until her lips were a half-inch from Marian’s. She waited until Marian half-exhaled in anticipation, then slowly, firmly pressed her lips to Marian’s. Marian gasped again as Liddy nibbled on Marian’s lower lip, then kissed lightly across Marian’s mouth. “Tell me then.”

“Tell you what?”

“The last bit on your shirt. If I checked you out, would I find you Dewey?”

Marian’s smile reached her eyes, making them shine. “Those wacky librarians do like a pun.”

Liddy snickered, then whispered in Marian’s ear, “But are you? Dewey?”

“I’m not joking about that.” Marian leaned back and all the laughter was gone. “And I’m a bit surprised by it and more than a little scared. I’m not like this, usually. The one time I was ... impetuous ... ended very badly.”

Liddy’s thoughts—against all her better judgment—of pleasant noontime dalliance fizzled out. “I can understand that. Besides, neither of us is in the market, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Marian said. She rose and gestured for Liddy to precede her out of the roped-off area. “I think our brains are not listening to our bodies, though.”

“More like the other way around.”

“Marian, hold up!” They both turned to watch Ellie scurrying toward them.

“Hey, Ellie. You’ve met Liddy, right?”

“Yeah, we talked last night—hey, was Sandy here this morning? Have you seen her?”

“She left maybe a half-hour ago, why?”

“Her mom called. Her dad’s had another small stroke and she’d like Sandy to drive over to the hospital if she can. It didn’t sound urgent, but I think Sandy’d want to know right away, but she’s not answering her cell.”

“Where have you looked?”

“I thought she’d be here, so this is my first stop.” Marian dug in one of the many pockets of her cargo shorts, came up with a cell phone and dialed a number. A moment later, Liddy offered hers to Ellie.

“I hate these things,” Ellie said, but she took it gingerly, pressed on, and started punching buttons.

Marian’s poised, modulated voice made Liddy feel a bit dizzy.

Marian the Librarian from River City could do phone sex with a voice like that. “Hey, Terry, Sandy wouldn’t by any chance be bring-ing Buster in, would she? No, just trying to get her a message. Her dad’s at the hospital again. Thanks.”

Ellie was far more agitated. “Hey, Patty, was Sandy going to play tennis with you later? I really need to get ahold of her.” In five minutes, Liddy thought, every dyke in Iowa City would be on the lookout for Sandy.

Marian abruptly waved in victory. “She is? I should have thought of you first. Yeah, just tell her to call her mom, but it’s not serious. Thanks, Mary Jane.”

“Oh, of course.” Ellie handed back Liddy’s phone. “Thanks, I appreciated using it.”

Marian said, “It’s one place she’d switch her phone off. I should have called there first.”

“Okay, that’s a relief.” Ellie’s usually perky expression was dimmed. “I hope her dad’s okay. I like her folks. They’re sweet. Maybe I’ll get flowers and go over later. He hasn’t been well at all.”

“I bet Sandy’s mom would like something other than hospital food later on,” Marian suggested.

Ellie brightened. “Sandwiches from Hy-Vee. Thanks, M’Sue.”

“M’Sue?” Liddy watched Ellie hurry in the direction of the library.

“Marian Sue. Marian Sue Pardoo, if you want the whole deal. I can’t tell you how pleased my entire third grade was that it rhymed.”

“Ah.”

“And?” Marian turned away from the library. “My car’s this way.”

“And what? We could take my car if we’re going exploring in the countryside.”

“I told you my middle name in a scary fit of self-revelation. I wasn’t planning on leaving any paved roads.”

“But we could in the Hummer, you know. It’s got a winch.”

“So what’s yours? I don’t think we’re going to need a winch. Besides I need to move my car to the ramp near work.”

“Okay, we’ll take your car.”

They walked in silence for a minute, then Marian said, “Is it a secret, your middle name?”

“Emma.”

“A lovely name, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Just ... say my whole name.”

“Liddy Emma Peel. It’s very—oh.”

Liddy waited for Marian to tease her, but all Marian did was chuckle quietly. She explained quietly, “My legal last name is Hartwell. But my mom remarried right after I was born and I’ve always used my stepdad’s last name. So the Emma Peel thing wasn’t even on purpose.”

“That sort of makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t too bad until cable brought back the Avenger reruns. I was so teased in school, especially when I took up karate.”

“I always loved Diana Rigg. I wanted her to read to me. And kick my brother across the room.”

“Hey!” Liddy stared at the pavement. “What are these?” Marian paused. “Nice, huh? You’re looking at the Iowa Avenue Literary Walk.”

Liddy carefully stepped over the words engraved in a binocular-shaped bronze plaque sunk into the pavement. “‘I have noticed before that there is a category of acquaintanceship that is not friendship or business or romance, but speculation, fascination.’ Jane Smiley. Interesting.”

“All the quotes are from people with ties to Iowa. I’ll show you my favorite, right up here.”

It felt odd to be walking along while staring at the sidewalk.

Liddy stopped to read another quote, set off by gold letters on a manhole cover. “‘We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.’ Kurt Vonnegut. Yes, that makes a lot of sense.”

“This is it,” Marian said, pointing.

This plaque was book-shaped. “Mildred Augustine Wirt Benson—that’s a mouthful for a name. ‘I’m afraid there’s more to this than appears on the surface.’” Liddy frowned. As a favorite quote it seemed obvious.

Marian’s smile broadened. “There’s more to her name than appears on the surface. You might know her better as Carolyn Keene.”

“Oh!” Liddy grinned. “Nancy Drew.”

Marian nodded enthusiastically. “That’s her. She was the first woman to get a journalism master’s here at U of I.”

“Cool.”

“Speaking of names, I am curious about your name, though. Your father chose it?”

Liddy sighed as she fell into step with Marian again. “It con-tributed to the divorce. Mom was out of it—nearly died—after I was born. I’m glad she didn’t. Anyway, my father filled out the birth cer-tificate and Emma, a family name on my mom’s side, became my middle name. Liddy hadn’t even been discussed, but my father thought G. Gordon was a freedom fighter. He has a ‘Nixon was Framed’ T-shirt.”

“You don’t see much of him?”

“Not much. We get on. It’s okay. But if we didn’t have blood in common we’d have nothing in common, you know? My brother is turning into him, though.”

The Beetle chirped at their approach. What a cute little car.

Small, compact but loaded with personality. It suited Marian. Liddy oozed down into the passenger seat. “Wow. The view is different from down here.”

Marian grinned as she turned the key. “See that handle over your door?” The engine purred loudly as she reversed out of the parking space.

Liddy looked up. “Yeah.”

“Just remember it’s there.”

Liddy didn’t really appreciate what Marian meant until Marian gunned the engine to make it through a yellow light at a left turn.

The low car swooped through the intersection while Liddy fumbled for the grip and leaned into the turn for all she was worth. “You don’t drive like you’re from Iowa.”

“Neither do you,” Marian commented.

“You’re going faster than the speed limit.”

“Uh huh.”

“I thought it was a rule here that everyone drive one mile an hour below the speed limit.”

“I’m sure it is. But I learned to drive in Chicago. Six Polish uncles taught me how. My mother’s maiden name was Myslakowski.”

“That explains it. Six teachers, all men.” Liddy held her breath as Marian gunned her way onto the freeway, cutting smoothly over to the fast lane.

“That looked closer than it was,” Marian assured her. “I love my baby. She’s got great maneuverability.”

“Where are we going?” The large mega-mall loomed, but they didn’t exit in that direction. Liddy looked back at it with longing.

“I’m not sure yet,” Marian answered. “But we’ll use the interstate to get there.”

“Why?”

“I take joy in getting on the freeway and leaving at the very next exit. It drives nearly everyone I know here batty.”

“That is how we do it in California.”

“In Illinois, too. But not in Iowa. In Iowa—hold on.” Marian whipped around a semi, then scooted into the slow lane where she proceded to pass the cars in the fast lane. “In Iowa, the interstate is for going from one state to another. If you’re getting on the interstate you need a map, a cooler with drinks, and an extra gas can just in case you get caught in the vast distances between towns.”

“There are some vast stretches,” Liddy said. “I drove them.”

“Coralville Lake, that’ll do it.”

The Beetle purred down the off-ramp for North Liberty. Liddy wondered if there was there a Central Liberty, or a South Liberty. In minutes subdivisions and farmhouses gave way to shoulder-high fields of corn and tall thickets of berries. Marian pressed the on button and soothing Bach flowed out of the speakers, at odds, Liddy thought, with the zooming pace of the little car.

“Over there! Deer!” Marian pointed. By the time Liddy looked they were out of sight.

Without thinking, she said, “Do you make love the way you drive?”

Marian’s jaw dropped. She stared at Liddy for a moment, then back at the road.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be—”

“No, I guess it’s a fair question. I was thinking about the answer. I don’t think so.”

She slowed the car, although Liddy couldn’t see why. There was no one else on the road with them and Marian was now at a crawl.

“You’re starting to frighten me.”

“Don’t mean to.” She stomped on the gas and they shot forward again, regaining their earlier breakneck pace. “Yes, I think I do make love like I drive. Depends on the passenger.” Liddy had to laugh, but a little voice inside was whispering,