The Road to Glory (24 page)

*  *  *

Leigh slowly opened her eyes, surprised to find RJ’s arms and legs intimately wound around her like a snake. This was new. With most women she was already gone by this point, and even with RJ, she woke up firmly on her side of the bed.

Now, however, they were so close together, not in sex, but in mutual comfort and genuine affection that it was hard to tell where RJ began and where she ended. It was what she’d always avoided. And she couldn’t decide which was cause for more alarm: the fact that she immediately loved it so and that she didn’t intend to move a single inch. Or that she knew in her heart this was a very dangerous idea but she couldn’t dredge up an ounce of willpower against it. In the end, her body defied her brain and snuggled a little closer, sighing when she felt RJ’s lips brush across the top of her head. "Hmm … nice."
So nice. God, too nice.

"Yes, it is." The pilot pulled Leigh closer, feeling the hot tickle of her breath against her neck. "Is this all right?"

"I … I … I think so," Leigh said quietly, hearing the uncertainty in her own voice.

RJ’s forehead creased and she loosened her hold a little as she cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a question, Leigh?"

Leigh’s body stiffened at the solemn note in RJ’s voice. "You’re not going to propose, are you? I’d hate to turn you down and ruin your morning," she teased feebly.

RJ chuckled and softly kissed her friend on the forehead. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. My mother would never forgive me for proposing to a woman who’s not Irish or Catholic."
Though for you, Leigh, I think I could live with my mother’s wrath.
"I was just wondering why you bolted from the truck the other night."

Leigh had been giggling along with RJ, but froze at her last words. "What did you say?"
Oh, that’s brilliant. Maybe she’ll think you’re deaf and not just pathetic.

"I was just wondering why you ran away from me the other night in front of that motel in Wyoming." RJ shifted a little so she could have eye contact but still maintaining a gentle hold on Leigh. The blue-eyed gaze that met her own was tinged with fear.
You’re not getting out of this, Leigh Matthews. I want an answer.

Leigh swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "You want the truth?"

"That would be nice."

Leigh licked her lips. "Okay. I … Well … I’m not exactly sure why I did it."
Liar! Shit
.

RJ released Leigh and worked herself free from the woman, a little sick to her stomach and more than a little frustrated. She sat up on the edge of the bed and dropped her head forward, taking a few deep, calming breaths. "If you don’t want to talk about it, just say that! But don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me. I’m Irish; I’m not stupid." The pilot stood and pulled on her underwear and undershirt.

Leigh cursed herself. "RJ, wait." She scrambled off the bed, not bothering with the sheet. "I never said you were stupid."

"Yeah, I know." She looked for her socks for a second and then decided she didn’t need them. "Are you hungry? I can go fix breakfast now."

Guilt warring with resentment, Leigh watched as RJ shrugged into her clothes
. I don’t owe you an explanation! Right?
"Please, RJ." She stepped forward, grabbing a handful of the tall woman’s cotton undershirt to prevent her from leaving the room. "I’m not hungry and I don’t want breakfast."

The pilot nodded and gently pulled away. "Suit yourself. I’ll go make some fresh coffee then. Seems we could both use it."

Leigh sighed. "I’m not going to beg you to stay and talk to me, RJ. I don’t know what I can say anyway." She turned and stalked back to the bed, yanking up the covers. "Go make coffee." She made an irritated flicking gesture toward the door. "I’m not stopping you."

RJ just shook her head and left the bedroom, muttering, "Women."

Leigh jumped at the sound of the slamming door. "Fine," she mumbled. "I won’t beg you to stay and talk to me." She punched her pillow, moving her head back and forth against it in a vain attempt to get comfortable. "I don’t even want to talk!" She lasted all of three seconds before jumping out of bed and heading for the door.

RJ looked up from the sink where she was refilling the coffee pot. She didn’t say anything to Leigh as she set the pot to brew. She could tell that the blonde woman was mad and she didn’t want to annoy her any further. This was supposed to be a vacation; they were supposed to be having fun. Things weren’t supposed to be getting complicated! "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s forget it and start over. I’ll fix some more eggs," she glanced at the clock, "for lunch. Then we can figure out how we want to spend the rest of the day."

Leigh crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot. God, she hated this emotional shit. She could see RJ wanted an explanation and yet the dark-haired woman was going to make her chase her in order to give it. "I’m not –" Leigh paused.
No lies
. "Okay, I’m a little upset. But mostly not with you."

RJ watched the dark liquid streaming into the pot, her empty cup in hand. She grinned at the blonde woman standing there in the kitchen naked as a lark and looking like she was going to start spitting nails at any second. "Lass, I really didn’t mean to upset you. I’d just been wondering why you jumped out of the truck the way you did that evening"
And holding you so close, I couldn’t stand the thought of you running away from me.

Leigh leaned against the counter. "I left because I was starting to feel … uncomfortable," she said seriously. "I needed some fresh air so I could think."

RJ cocked her head. "Was I making you uncomfortable? And would you like a robe or a blanket or something? I have to admit having your chest out there like that is making concentrating very difficult." She grinned, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

"I don’t want a robe." She plucked RJ’s cup out of her hands and loudly set it on the counter. "It wasn’t entirely you that was making me uncomfortable, it was the situation. And you’re making me insane! You act angry, but smile, then makes jokes about my chest." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "For once I’m not thinking about sex!"

For a moment RJ was speechless.

"Did that answer all your questions?" Without waiting for RJ to respond, Leigh turned on her heel, marched to the fridge, pulled out a Pepsi and cracked the top. She took a long, satisfying drink, looking at RJ over the top of the can. "Are we done?"

RJ nodded. Biting back a grin and trying not to laugh, she let her head sway slightly. "If you say so. You’re so cute when you’re grouchy."

"Argh!" Leigh set her can and ran over to RJ. She held her hands up in front of her neck, shaking them wildly as though she was choking her. "You’re trying to make me go nuts! I just know it." When RJ only winked back, Leigh dropped her hands in exasperation. She picked up the Pepsi can and stomped toward the bathroom, loudly calling out what RJ had only mumbled before. "Women!"

RJ puttered around the kitchen for a bit, hearing the shower go on in the bathroom. Then she remembered the cure for her black eye was in the fridge. She touched the tender skin as she pulled the steak from its wrapping, then rinsed it in the sink and poured herself a cup of coffee. Hopping up on the counter she placed the steak on her swollen eye and began sipping the dark liquid, wishing she’d thought to bring her cigarettes with her.

Leigh emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later. Her shower had been a quick one and she hadn’t bothered to blow-dry her hair. She was wearing a thin pair of gray sweats and a mint green t-shirt that somehow managed to make her eyes look even more sky blue.

RJ jumped off the counter and followed Leigh into the living room. "Feel better?"

"Jesus Christ!" Leigh’s stomach churned queasily when RJ lifted the steak from her eye, leaving a pink, bloody ring around the discolored flesh. "God, RJ, that’s disgusting."

"It’s the perfect cure for a black eye, lass. But I’m guessing from that response you won’t be joining me for steak and eggs for lunch then?"

Leigh shook her head and laughed. "What is this obsession with food? Over the last few days you haven’t had much appetite at all." She gestured toward the steak, now resting comfortably back on RJ’s eye. She sat down on the sofa and curled one leg under her.

"I’m not obsessed with food." RJ went back into the kitchen and re-wrapped the steak, placing it back in the refrigerator. She then washed her hands and her face, before joining Leigh, who was watching the rain through the glass door that led to the balcony. She gave the young woman’s foot a little tickle. "I have much better things to be obsessed with than food."

Leigh feigned surprised. "Feet?" She made a face. "Ewww ... I can barely stand to look at my own feet, much less anyone else’s."

"No," RJ said in exasperation as she tickled her foot again. "Not feet. You. All of you."

"Oh." Leigh’s ego hummed happily. "That’s a plan I can get behind. So –" she paused and jerked her chin at the rainy gloom they were watching from the couch. "What do you want to do today? I know I want to go and see how the body shop is doing on my truck."
Those fuckers had better not be ogling Mom as they paint over her.

"Well," RJ began a gentle massage of the foot she still held onto, "actually there is someone here in Seattle I’d like to try and see."
Here goes.
"It’s the woman who was my grandmother’s co-pilot."

"You’re going to wash that hand before touching me again, right?" Leigh pulled her foot from RJ’s grasp and leaned forward, interested. "She was the one who tried to save your grandmother, right? Wow, she must be pretty old."

RJ looked at her hands. She shrugged and dropped them in her lap. "That’d be the one. She’s probably in her mid-eighties by now. It’s been sixty years since the end of the war."
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
It never seemed like that long ago until RJ actually said the words.
I can’t even imagine that sweet, red-haired lass, Lucy, that old.
Does this mean I’m robbing the cradle with Leigh?
"I just hoped maybe she’d be able to tell me something I didn’t know about my grandmother. My mother suggested that I look her up if I was going to be in Seattle.
And I need to try and thank her for what she did for me.

"Do you know where she lives? Seattle isn’t a small place."

"She’s in a nursing home. I have the address in my duffel bag. If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand. I could call a cab or something. Lots of folks can think of better ways to spend part of their day than visiting an old woman."

Leigh’s gaze softened. "It’s important to you, right?"

The pilot nodded, trying not to allow the tears that threatened to spill. There was no way she could explain this type of emotion to Leigh, considering she supposedly hadn’t even met the old woman yet. She swallowed hard. "It’s very, Leigh. She’s the last one … who really knew my grandmother, and even though I didn’t know her she’s important to my family."

"Hey." She patted RJ’s leg worriedly, feeling a pang in her guts over the sad look on RJ’s face. "Don’t worry. I’ll take you. We didn’t have any special plans for the day, and if it’s something you want to do," she shrugged, "that’s more than good enough for me."

RJ leaned over and gave Leigh a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Has anyone ever told you how special you are, Leigh Matthews?"
If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are my guardian angel.

"Only my junior high school guidance counselor. But that was just because I was tardy for 86 days in a row." Leigh quirked a grin and received a wry one in return. "I believe you have a hand to wash before we go?"

*  *  *

"Bait!" The male squirrel’s jaw wobbled loosely from his face.

The female nodded and shrugged. It had to be.

"I don’t want to be bait!" He began to tremble and blurted out in a panic, "Bait is bad! Bait is dangerous! Bait gets eaten! And I just know it would hurt."

"Don’t make me alter my plan and remove the small contingency I’ve incorporated so that you have at least a minute chance of surviving," the female warned reasonably. "All missions have a certain of level of acceptable losses for the greater good."

"Acceptable losses?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be you, dear."

"Greater good?"

"That would be me."

"But I don’t want to be bait," he whined, digging his little toe into the soil.

"Let me put it this way: one of us has to execute the plan with extreme precision, skill, brains and cunning."

"I could do that part!"

The female simply stared at him until he cracked under her knowing gaze.

"I’m the bait," he sighed.

"Of course you are." She patted his shoulder comfortingly, thinking that she would always remember him. Then for the first time that afternoon she got a good look at his attire. "Why are you wearing that hideous outfit?"

He puffed up his chest. "I’m a warrior! Brave and strong. Ready to fight to save the squirrel I love most!"
That would be me.

"Uh huh."

The male was wearing an oak leaf twisted into a ridiculous hat, a dented beer bottle cap serving as a chest plate.

"I’m emulating my favorite warrior I saw on TV. No woman could resist him!"

"The imbecilic moron?" The female’s face twisted in disgust. Humans were such perverse animals.

The male looked aghast. "But kids love him and he’s the cornerstone of all the comedies!"

"I am not having this discussion with you again." The female sat down on a large stick she’d dragged into their nest while the mate went in search of weapons to use in their battle against Flea, the bane of their eternity. He’d excitedly returned with rusty nails, bits of glass, a half-eaten Ho Ho which he refused to share, and an issue of ‘Play Squirrel.’ He’d cried for hours when he discovered that the best parts had already been torn out, confirming once again that they were, in fact, in squirrel hell.

"What did you collect for our attack against the evil one?"

"I didn’t collect anything. I made something. Just as a backup to my brilliant plan."