"Stop," I said as soon as we had rounded the corner and were out of view of the Kim's house. "Stop the car. Please." I felt as if I were about to explode from all the emotions swirling through me. A two-hour ride next to a silent Jennie would kill me. We needed to get this out in the open. Now. "We need to talk."
"Okay," Jennie said, sounding as if she had just agreed to her own execution. Her hands shook as she flicked on the turn signal.
I wanted to reach over and give her arm a comforting squeeze, but I suspected it would make Jennie even more nervous. So I forced my hands to be still and instead searched for something to say.
Jennie pulled into a large parking lot. The car's headlights skipped over the entrance of a park.
Before I found the right words, Jennie opened the door and got out of the car.
I followed. I kept a respectful distance as we wandered past groves of cedars, palms, redwoods, and oak trees. Darkness had fallen, but the moon and streetlamps provided enough light. A family was packing up the remnants of a picnic near a barbecue pit, and up ahead, a man walked his dog, but other than that, it seemed as if they were alone in the large park.
We strolled across a rolling lawn until we stopped at the curved shore of a lily pond. Lights reflected off the water. Tall trees stretched their canopies across the pond and gave me the feeling of being shut off from the rest of the world, with just the moonlight shining down on us.
A wooden bridge linked the pond to another one. Jennie stepped onto the bridge and stopped in the middle. She stood with her hands stuffed into her coat pockets. Her head was turned away from me as she stared into the dark water. The wind picked up, rippling the water and throwing strands into Jennie's face.
Say something, I mentally urged Jennie. But of course, I didn't say it out loud, knowing I shouldn't rush Jennie. Still I longed for a reassuring word.
Jennie moved her head to watch a pair of ducks paddling on the water. "As a child, I used to come here when I wanted to be alone." She spoke quietly, still watching the ducks.
I studied her. Does she want to be alone now? Was she distancing herself from me? And if I let her, would Jennie eventually be back and open up or would I lose her forever? Despite my fear, I decided to give Jennie a way out.
"Do you ..." I paused to clear my throat. "Do you want to be alone now?"
Slowly, Jennie turned toward me. The moonlight threw flickering shadows across her face. "No," she said. "I don't want to be alone. I'm just not sure if I can ..." She paused to gnaw on the inside of her cheek.
"We don't need to do or talk about anything you're not comfortable with," I said. I longed to find out what was going on in Jennie's head. Not knowing was killing me, but maybe the onslaught of emotions I heard in Jennie's voice was too much for Jennie right now. "We can just stay here and watch the ducks for a while, if that's what you want." I dug my nails into my palms.
Oh, please, don't say yes.
Jennie turned toward the pond.
After a moment, I stepped next to her. Side by side, we leaned against the bridge's wooden railing. We stood so close that I could feel Jennie's warmth. With a flutter in my belly, I peeked up and tried to make eye contact, but Jennie was looking at the pond. I followed her gaze.
The two ducks paddled closer, probably to see if there was any bread for them. The male stayed farther back while the female was more daring, coming close to the bridge.
I hoped that it was the same with humans and that Jennie would find the courage to talk about what was going on with her.
"This feels so surreal," Jennie murmured.
"What?" I tried to keep my voice soft and calm, despite my tension.
"Everything looks the same as it did when I was a child." Jennie swept her arm across the pond and the rest of the park. Her voice was so low that I had to strain to hear her over the wind and the quacking of the ducks. I leaned closer until our arms brushed. "How can that be when I feel so... so different?" At the last word, Jennie's voice became louder, more desperate.
"You're going through a lot of changes right now," I said, making my tone as soothing as I could. It wasn't easy since I was bursting with emotion. "Telling Jin off and calling your parents on the carpet for their self-centeredness ... that took a lot of courage. I was holding my breath the whole time, totally in awe of this new Jennie." I paused and then added,
"Don't misunderstand me. It's not that I don't lo—" I stopped myself midword and bit my lip. "—like the old Jennie. I do. It's just that it's wonderful to see you grow and stand up for yourself and—"
"Lisa?"
I exhaled. "Yes?"
A hint of a smile ghosted over Jennie's face. "You're babbling."
My jaw snapped shut. Good going. You're supposed to help her calm down, not babble like a nervous idiot. "Sorry."
"No. Don't be sorry. It's good to know I'm not the only one."
My heart beat a nervous staccato against my ribs. "The only one who...?"
"The only one who's nervous. The only one who ..." Jennie pulled one hand from her coat pocket and slid it into the pocket of her pants. Then she breathed in sharply. "Lisa, I ..." She blew out a breath. "I still have this."
A touch of Jennie's hand compelled me to open my fingers. Something smooth slid into my hand. When I looked down, faint light glinted on the milky white surface of a moonstone.
Is this the one I gave her on the beach?
I squinted down at it. The swirling patterns looked familiar. I rubbed my cold fingers over the stone that was warm from Jennie's body heat.
"You kept it?" I whispered. I didn't dare believe that it meant what she wanted it to mean.
Jennie stared at the wooden bridge beneath her feet and nodded. "Normally, I'm not into sentimental trinkets like this."
"I know." I hadn't seen any objects of sentimental value in Jennie's apartment. "I thought you left it on the beach."
"I wanted to." Jennie looked back up. Her gaze met mine before it veered away again. "But something made me put it in my pocket."
"Something?" My voice vibrated with tension and hope.
With one finger, Jennie touched the moonstone on my open palm as if drawing strength from it. "I think I might have ..." She looked from the stone to my face. "I have feelings for you."
The words made my heart stutter and then start to beat double-time. Oh, God, yes! I wanted to shout out my joy, but I cautioned myself, afraid to let myself believe, just to be disappointed. Maybe she's just reacting to the stress of tricking Jin.
"Feelings?"
"Romantic feelings," Jennie whispered.
I swallowed. "Are you sure this isn't just a side effect of trying to make Jin believe we're a couple?"
"Side effect?" A line appeared between Jennie's brows. She stared at me with a not-very-pleased glint in her eyes. "I might not be very experienced when it comes to love and relationships, but I'm not a child. I know my own feelings."
I flinched. Ouch. "No, you ... That's not what I'm saying," I hastened to say. "I'm not belittling your feelings the way Jin and your parents do." After a quick, soothing touch to Jennie's arm, I retreated. "This isn't about the experiences you have or don't have. But sometimes it's easy to get confused. I went through the same thing. It was hard to figure out if I'm just interested in you because I have trouble separating reality from the role of pretending to be your girlfriend."
"So?" Jennie searched my face. "Did you figure it out?"
This time, it was me who had trouble holding Jennie's gaze. Come on. Tell her. Trust her.
"Yes," I said and felt my breath catch. "For me, it's more than getting lost in our charade. There's something about you that fascinated me from the first moment I saw you." In my mind's eye, I saw Jennie nearly dropping a tray full of glasses. I shook off the smile the memory put on my face. "But I'm a lesbian. Being attracted to women is normal for me. But you ..."
"I don't know what I am or what this," Jennie pointed back and forth between us, "is. Your side-effect theory ... I clung to it for a while. I tried to convince myself that it would all go away once we didn't have to pretend for Jin's sake anymore."
I stopped breathing. "And?"
Jennie's lips curled into a half-smile. "No such luck." She patted her chest. "I don't think this will go away anytime soon." She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "If ever."
Weak-kneed, I sucked in a lungful of air. "Does that mean...?"
"Mean what?"
The confused, helpless look in Jennie's eyes made me want to take back the question and avoid anything that put pressure on Jennie, but I was risking my heart and needed answers-even if I was afraid of them. It was better to be hurt now than to invest my whole heart and have it broken later.
I curled my hand around the moonstone. "I have to be honest here, Jennie. I'm not up for being a straight girl's experiment." Back in college, I hadn't minded, but with Jennie, it would rip out my heart.
"Experiment?" Jennie shook her head. "I'm not the experimenting type. You know that. I would never confess my feelings for you if I wasn't serious."
"You might be serious about it now," I said and sighed, "but will you still feel the same when strangers stare at you just for holding my hand? Will you still feel that way if you meet an attractive man who treats you well ... or a woman?" After all, most women didn't stay with their first female lover. The more I thought about it, the more insecure I became.
Jennie hung her head, looked at the dark waters, and mumbled, "You don't have to be polite. This isn't really about me changing my mind, is it? This is about you changing yours."
I tugged her around so I could see her face in the moonlight. "What do you mean? Why would I change my mind?"
A twig splashed into the water when Jennie kicked at it. "You could have women that are so much more interesting than me. Nikki, for example."
"Hey." I tapped Jennie's cold nose. "What did I tell you about negative assumptions about yourself? I'm not interested in Nikki."
"Really?"
"Yes. My relationship with her was over a long time ago and we'll never get back together, no matter how much Nikki wants to pretend otherwise." I caressed Jennie's cheek with the back of my index finger. "I'm much more interested in you than I ever was in her. That's why I'm so worried that other lesbians will find you interesting too."
In the moonlight, Jennie's face looked ghostly pale. "I don't know what I'll feel in the future, Lisa." The corners of her mouth twitched, forming a self-deprecating smile. "I barely know what I'm feeling right now. I'm not pretending that this isn't hard for me or that I'm not confused and insecure. I haven't been interested in anyone in a long time-and now it's happening with a woman. That's a shock. A big shock." She closed her eyes. Her shoulders heaved as she breathed in and out. Then she opened her eyes again. "I know it won't always be easy, but I'm serious about wanting to try."
The words made me giddy. Even as I had slowly fallen in love with Jennie over the last few weeks, I had never allowed myself to think we might have a future together, and now I didn't trust my luck. The doubts and fears within me refused to settle down.
"That's just it, Jennie. There is no trying. We're no longer pretending. There are real people involved, real emotions."
"I know." Jennie lowered her gaze and added in a whisper, "I feel them."
For a moment, Jennie's shy confession robbed me of speech. I knew Jennie usually didn't talk about her feelings so freely. Waves of joy rushed through me. I wanted to wrap my arms around Jennie and twirl her around until we were both dizzy, then kiss her until we became dizzy again. But I couldn't give in to my feelings without making sure I wouldn't get hurt—or worse, hurt Jennie.
"What if you find out that being with a woman ... being with me isn't what you want?" What if I allowed myself to fall head-over-heels in love with Jennie, only to have Jennie break it off? What if? Inwardly, I rolled my eyes at myself.
Girl, you've been a goner for weeks.
"I can't give you any guarantees." she said.
At first, Jennie's sober response made me flinch. That sure wasn't the promise of a happily-ever-after a prospective lover wanted to hear. But then I had to smile. Jennie's down-to-earth attitude was part of what I loved about her.
"Do you remember what you kept telling me from the first day we met?" Jennie asked.
My thoughts raced. During the last eight weeks, I had told Jennie so many things. My head was spinning, so I clung to the first funny comment that came to mind.
"That I already own a toaster oven?" I sent Jennie a rakish grin. "You know, I wouldn't mind earning another one."
"No." Jennie's lips twitched with a half-grin of her own. She gently pinched my upper arm, nearly making me drop the moonstone. "You told me that I shouldn't enter relationships with negative assumptions. Now I'm trying to take your advice. If I let myself focus on all the things that could go wrong ..." She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. "I would make myself crazy. For once, I think maybe I should just hope for the best instead of being afraid of messing things up. No more letting myself be ruled by negative assumptions."
I smiled. "Beating me with my own words, hmm? Is that what I have to look forward to?"
Jennie lifted her chin and looked directly into my eyes. "If you're willing to take a chance."
Despite my doubts, I didn't hesitate. "Of course I am," I said softly. I handed back the moonstone.
When our fingers touched, a spark of electricity raced up my arm.
My body tingled.
Maybe Jennie felt the spark between us too, because she paused with her fingers touching mine. Instead of taking the moonstone from me, she entwined our fingers. The moonstone that was trapped between our palms seemed to pulse in the rhythm of our heartbeats.
"Magic," I whispered.
Looking deeply into her eyes, Jennie nodded. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
With our hands still linking us to each other, we moved closer until I felt Jennie's body heat. A strand of Jennie's hair brushed my cheek, and I reached up with my free hand to comb it back. My fingertips slid over Jennie's temple, stroking the soft skin there.
Jennie tilted her head and leaned into the touch.
Slowly, giving Jennie ample time to stop me, I slid my hand down, along Jennie's cheek, then back to her neck, where I drew tiny circles with my fingertips.
A shuddery breath escaped Jennie and fanned hotly over my neck.
Goose bumps broke out all over my body.
With only inches separating us, Jennie leaned and paused. Her gaze sought mine and then darted down to my lips.
I leaned down my head and, closing the gap between us, touched Jennie's lips with my own.
So soft.
My body struggled against it, but I forced myself to move back an inch after one single peck. I opened my mouth to ask her if she was okay.
Before I could ask, Jennie leaned closer and kissed me again.
Heat shot through me. my eyes fluttered shut, and I pressed closer. Jennie's lips started to move against mine.
I moaned into the kiss. When Jennie's free hand slid down my back, I flicked out my tongue and teased the corner of her mouth.
With a gasp, Jennie parted her lips.
My knees weakened. I had never felt anything as erotic as the feeling of our tongues sliding against each other.
The ducks' excited quack-quack interrupted the moment. Breathing heavily, Jennie pulled back.
My eyes had trouble focusing, but after a moment, I realized we had dropped the moonstone. It had landed on the edge of the bridge, and the female duck was inching closer, apparently thinking the white stone was a piece of bread.
"Shoo!" Jennie waved her hands. "This one's mine."
When Jennie bent to pick up the moonstone before the duck could reach it, I drank in her slender form. "Am I?" I whispered.
Jennie straightened. We made eye contact.
Then Jennie smiled. "Yes," she said, sounding more confident than I had expected.
While the duck huffed out one last quack and paddled away, we stood grinning at each other. After a few moments, we reached for each other's hand, and with the moonstone safely held between our clasped palms, walked back to the car.
Its a Happy Thanksgiving after all.