Honesty

In this book, the fun they had on their short holiday is a fading memory as Jamie and Ryan return to the world of family, school and sports. Jamie is determined to have it out with her father over his treatment of Ryan. But Ryan is dreading that discussion, fearing that the secrets she's been keeping will be revealed. 
In theory, Honesty is the best policy. But in practice other concerns can influence when it's best to hide the truth, even at your own peril.

Part One
Ryan O’Flaherty stumbled up the basement stairs of her family home on a cool, foggy August morning, wishing that she could return to bed but knowing that a long day of work awaited her. Her hair was thoroughly mussed, partly from sleep and partly from the long hours of lovemaking that she and her partner had blissfully engaged in the night before.
Said partner was still out cold, uttering one small unhappy grunt when Ryan pulled herself from their bed. Before going upstairs, the tall, lean woman had tugged on a pair of loose sweatpants and a T-shirt, knowing there was a possibility that her father was at home. Her brother would definitely be at work on this Friday, so the muffled sound of voices from the dining room puzzled her a bit. Mmm…Aunt Maeve’s here, Ryan thought with pleasure when she recognized one of the voices to be female. She looked at her rumpled self and decided that her appearance wouldn’t shock the woman, who had seen Ryan look substantially worse on many occasions.
Crossing the small living room while she absently scratched herself, the dark woman nearly screamed when she saw that her father was not speaking to her aunt after all. Catherine Evans sat at the table, looking casual and alert as she conversed companionably with Martin.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Martin teased upon seeing his scruffy daughter.
"Catherine!" Ryan cried, completely stunned to see her mother-in-law in her home. "How…why…um…hi," she finally got out, her pleasure at seeing Jamie's mother overriding her shock.
Casting a long appraising look at the lanky woman who stood in front of her, Catherine mused, "So…this is the vision that my daughter wakes to, hmmm?"
Blushing lightly, Ryan gave herself another quick glance, admitting the truth. "This is about as good as it gets, Catherine. Scary, huh?"
Sharing a broad smile with the slightly embarrassed woman, Catherine assured her, "I think my daughter has done very well for herself, Ryan. Now that I’ve met your father, your stock has gone up even further."
It was clear to Ryan that her father was the latest victim to the charms of Catherine Evans, and she spared a moment to offer up a prayer of thanks that her aunt was not in attendance. Seeing your fiancé blushing like a schoolboy in the presence of a very charismatic, very attractive, very wealthy woman wasn’t a good way to start the day.
Taking a seat at the table, Ryan acknowledged, "Da is the pick of the O’Flaherty litter, Catherine."
Blushing even more, the senior O’Flaherty got to his feet and made for the kitchen. "Starving as usual, Siobhan?" he called over his shoulder.
"I’ve only been gone ten days, Da," she scoffed. "I couldn’t possibly have changed something so elemental to my personality."
"Do all of your children have such a…healthy appetite, Martin?" Catherine asked over the muted clatter of pots and pans.
"Oh my, yes," he called out. "Many’s the time I wished I could drop them off at Bell Foods for the day. They nearly ate me out of house and home."
"I wish I could disagree, but it’s all true," Ryan shrugged. Looking at her mother-in-law, she cocked her head slightly and asked, "I’m still a little groggy, but I’m quite sure I don’t know how it is that we’re having breakfast together."
Catherine blushed a little as she told the whole truth. "After your cousins dropped me off last night, I started to feel quite depressed," she admitted. "Being around you girls and the baby was so wonderful for me that I could hardly bear the thought of being in that big house all by myself. Your perceptive cousin Annie sensed that I was having a hard time saying goodbye, and she generously offered to stay over. We had a marvelous time, and Caitlin got to go swimming again," she said, a fond smile stealing over her patrician features.
"Annie’s a good woman," Ryan agreed, letting her love for her adopted cousin show.
"She’s a darling girl," Catherine decided, "and Tommy is a very good father. Caitlin is so clearly in love with her daddy."
"Oh yeah. Daddy is number one in her heart," Ryan agreed. There was a moment of silence before she asked again, "That still doesn’t explain how you wound up here, Catherine."
"Well, we all got up early so they could start for the beach. I was up, I was dressed, and I thought it would be fun to help you girls out today. Tommy gave me a list of everything you might need, and I went to the adorable hardware store he recommended and bought everything we need to clean their house properly."
Ryan’s mouth was gaping open so comically that her father couldn’t help but gently close it when he entered the room with her breakfast. "We have a fly swatter, Sweetheart. You don’t have to use your mouth."

While Ryan got to work on her breakfast, Martin said, "I’m off work and Mrs. Driscoll has an unexpected free day also, so we’re at your disposal to help today, too."
"Oh Da, I can’t impose on you and Aunt Maeve like that," Ryan complained.
"Nonsense! No one is more concerned about the safety of that baby than Maeve. And if Maeve’s concerned, I’m concerned," he declared. "Isn’t that the way this works, Siobhan?"
"It is indeed, Da," she agreed as she gave him a wide smile. "You’re catching on quickly."

By noon over half of the work was finished, but all five crewmembers were tired, dusty, and ready for a good long break. "Hey, I’ve got an idea," Jamie said, as they all shared the front porch steps. "Why don’t we pack it up for the afternoon and invite all of the cousins over for a big barbeque in the backyard. We can cook while they all work!"
Martin smiled over at Ryan as he said, "She’s a quick learner, this one is, Siobhan. She’s quickly figured out the benefits of a large family!"

Late that night Jamie was sitting on Ryan’s lap in Tommy’s backyard. The house was spotless, all of the linens had been washed, the curtains washed and ironed, and every toy and article of clothing was neatly returned to its proper place. They had managed to feed twelve hungry men and were in the process of filling each of the workers with just enough beer to keep them happy.
None of the aunts or uncles had come, nor had Conor or Brendan, but Catherine’s mind was still reeling from the introductions that had seemingly gone on for hours. The older woman pulled one of the lawn chairs next to her daughter and let out a sigh. "How long did it take you to learn all of these colorful names, Jamie?" she asked in exasperation. "It’s nearly impossible to tell these handsome young men apart, much less assign names to them!"
Laughing gently, Jamie acknowledged her mother’s plight. "It seems hard now, Mom, but when you spend a little time with them, you hardly notice how much they look alike."
"That’s what I told you, Jamie," Ryan agreed. "I hardly see any similarities at all!"
"Now that’s stretching it," Jamie demurred, chuckling at her partner’s claim. "I think of them as a big litter of puppies. They all look alike at first, but when their personalities are revealed, they become distinct."
"Odd analogy, but it’s apt," Ryan agreed, realizing that she was both the bitch and the runt of the litter.

Before Catherine departed, she pulled Jamie aside for a little pep talk. "Even though I’ll be in Italy, I want you to know that I’ll come back on a moment’s notice if you need me, Honey."
"I appreciate that, Mom. I really wanted to talk to Daddy today, but his secretary said he won’t be back in town until Monday. It’s not going to go well, but I promise I’ll try to stay civil. I’m going to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he’d better keep his nose out of my business. It’s up to him how he responds."
Casting a worried glance at her daughter, Catherine pursed her lips, knowing that a full-scale confrontation between father and daughter was inevitable. "Just try to remember that he loves you, Jamie, even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes."
Putting on a stern face Jamie said, "That doesn’t cut it, Mom. Saying that you love me while you treat me like chattel is not acceptable. The rules to this game have changed."

When they returned to Berkeley on Sunday evening, they nearly collided with the cab that was depositing Mia in the driveway. "Jamie!" she called, her face lighting up with delight.
"Mia!" she hollered with the same intensity. They ran for each other and screamed like 12-year-old girls while Ryan ambled over and stood by patiently, waiting to be noticed.
When the joyous reunion showed no signs of ceasing, Ryan finally asked, "If I carry your bags, can I get a hug too?"
The sunny, impish face turned in her direction seconds before a slightly demonic look took over. Ryan knew something was coming but was still unprepared for Mia to take a running leap at her. But leap she did, and only Ryan’s extraordinary reflexes allowed her to catch the woman before she broke something major. "You’re right, Jamie," Mia cried. "She is as quick as a cat!" Her legs were wrapped around Ryan’s waist and her arms draped around her neck as she made her proclamation.
"Hey, are you gonna tell all of your friends to test me like this?" Ryan complained. "Luckily, you’re both light as feathers."
"Look what I got!" Mia demanded as she leaned back in Ryan’s protective embrace. She yanked up her knit shirt and revealed not only a tanned and toned belly, but a shiny silver ring piercing her navel.
"Yeoow!" Ryan cried. "That must have hurt like a bitch!"
"You have no idea," she agreed, shaking her head solemnly. "If I hadn’t been drunk and high, I never would have done it!"
"There’s not enough alcohol in the world," Ryan vowed, accompanied by Jamie’s knowing smile.

"Sunblock?"
"Check"
"Energy bars?"
"Check"
"Gatorade?"
"Check"
"Umm…"
"Honey, stop obsessing," Jamie reassured her partner as they loaded up her big golf bag in the Lexus on Monday morning. "I should be the one who’s nervous," she reminded her.
"I know, I know, but not being able to come with you is driving me nuts!"
"I think it’s for the best, Love. I’m a little nervous about playing in front of a crowd right now, and I think seeing you would make it worse."
Giving her partner a puzzled glance, Ryan privately mused, Why would you want to participate in a sport if it made you nervous to play in front of people? Aloud she asked, "Now tell me again how they do this?"
"The golf team has three openings. As of Friday, fourteen women had signed up to compete for them. We play 36 holes of stroke play today…"
"That’s normal golf?"
"Yes, that’s normal golf. You count all of your strokes and see who has the fewest at the end of the day. The top eight women then compete starting tomorrow in a four day match play tournament."
"That’s where you win holes, right?"
"Right. Each hole is a discrete event. So even if you have 20 shots on one hole, you only lose that hole; your bad score doesn’t continue to haunt you. There are, of course, 18 holes, and you stop when it becomes impossible for the other person to win. They refer to the winning score as three and two or five and four to indicate that the winner has one more point than there are holes left to play."
"Gotcha."
"The eight women play four matches, starting on Tuesday. The three women with the most wins make the team."
"What if there’s a tie?"
"Then Scott considers scores of the matches. He adds up the points you made, so it’s to your advantage to beat people decisively."
Ryan shot her a crooked grin as she pointed out, "It’s always to your advantage to do that, Honey."

The sandy-haired man leaned back in his sumptuous leather desk chair, a lit cigar protruding from his mouth. His firm had a no-smoking policy in the building, but everyone agreed that the restriction didn’t pertain to the managing partner. His feet were planted on the desk so that the smooth, soft leather of his custom-made shoes was the first thing that Helen, his secretary, saw when she entered the room.
She gave him a tentative look, unaccustomed to the relaxed posture from her high-energy boss. "Um…there’s a call for you on line one," she indicated.
"Who is it?" he asked absently, his attention focused on something that only he could see.
"He won’t say," she said. "He said that you were expecting his call, but he won’t…" she trailed off as he lethargically slid his feet from the desk and leaned forward, propping his head on his hand. 
"No problem, Helen. I’ll take care of it." The woman gave him a puzzled look, nodded once, and excused herself, a furrow firmly etched into her brow.
As the door closed, he picked up the receiver, eschewing the speakerphone that he usually chose. "Jim Evans," he said.
"Dick Williams of Williams Investigations," the caller responded. "It’s been a while, Mr. Evans. I was planning on calling to congratulate you on being the governor’s choice to replace Senator Sommers."
"How did you know…" he began, but trailed off. Dick Williams knew nearly everything about nearly everyone, and Jim knew he wasn’t exempt from the snare of his information net. "I have a job for you, Dick, if you’re able to assure me of complete confidentiality."
"Of course, Mr. Evans," he said immediately. "I’ve never let you down before!"
"No, that’s true," he agreed, "but this job…this job is absolutely top secret. No one--I emphasize, no one--can know about this."
"Mr. Evans," the voice on the phone reminded him, "my entire business is built on confidentiality. That is my only asset."
"True," the attorney mused. "You have a point there." He paused for a few long minutes, allowing his well-honed instincts to determine if he was comfortable going forward. Finally, he sighed and said, "I need a full work-up on a young woman. I want everything—background, friends, lovers, family. I want to know about every speeding ticket, every person she’s slept with, everything!"
"Screening for a new assistant?" Dick asked, knowing that Jim Evans always had anyone on his immediate staff investigated very thoroughly.
Jim paused before he answered, deciding to reveal all just to make sure the investigator understood the underlying goal. "Everyone has some dirt, Dick. I’m going to use whatever I learn to break this young woman. She’s threatening my family, and she’s going to regret it."
"Got it, Mr. Evans," he said immediately, shaking his head at the temerity of any young woman who would dare go up against an opponent like the powerful attorney. "We’ll find anything that’s out there."
"There’s something there," he stated firmly. "There had better be." The implication was clear, and Dick Williams understood it.
"There will be, sir," he stated confidently, hoping that he didn’t have to manufacture something out of whole cloth. While he was not unwilling to make the facts match the request, that wasn’t his preferred business style, and he silently hoped that the young woman was as dirty as Jim implied.

When Ryan returned home from her afternoon practice, Jamie was sitting in the back yard drinking a large glass of lemonade. Her feet were drawn up under her, and she had a pensive look on her face. Not noticing Ryan until the larger woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, she gave a little start, then patted the soft hand and gave it a squeeze. "I didn’t hear you come in," she said softly, a faraway look in her eyes.
"Didn’t it go well?" Ryan asked sympathetically, recognizing the look of disappointment on her partner’s face.
"What?" Jamie looked confused for a second, then nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, it went fine. I came in second."
"Then why the long face?" she asked softly, crouching down to make her eyes level with her partner’s.
"Oh." Jamie shook her head, obviously trying to dispel some bad thoughts. "I tried to make an appointment to talk to my father, and he claims he doesn’t have a moment to spare this week."
"All week?" Ryan gaped, stunned that Jamie actually needed to make an appointment to see her own father.
"So he says," Jamie mused. "It took several tries just to get him on the line. He must have told his secretary to brush me off."
Kneeling on the ground, Ryan nestled her head into her partner’s lap, trying to lend reassurance with her mere presence. "I’m sorry, Love. I’m sure it’s not that he doesn’t want to see you."
"Yeah, I know. He just doesn’t want me to be mad at him, so he avoids me. Very mature."
"Very hurtful," Ryan corrected, knowing that her partner had to be wounded by this snub.
"Right on the money, Baby," Jamie agreed, thankful that her partner understood her mood. 
"Well, it’s probably best not to let this get in the way of your concentration anyway, right?" Ryan asked brightly, lifting her head to gaze into her green eyes. "I wouldn’t want this going on when I was trying out for a sport."
"Eh…good point, I guess. I’ll track him down over the weekend. Would you go down there with me if he won’t return my calls?"
"Um…sure," Ryan replied immediately. "I love the CD player in my car. I’ll be waiting for you in the driveway."
"Chicken!"
"Cluck, cluck, cluck."

Ryan came down the stairs on Friday morning, puzzled to find her missing lover sitting in the kitchen. The circles under her eyes indicated her lack of sleep, but her expression was determined and grim. "I’m going to my father’s office after the competition’s over this afternoon."
The words that Ryan had been dreading hit her hard, and she felt her stomach clench painfully. She knew that Jamie felt a strong need to confront her father on his behavior, but she knew in her gut that there was a very real possibility that her partner would find out that Ryan had known about her father’s infidelity for months now. When you make a decision like that, you have to be able to tolerate the consequences, she reminded herself.
"I thought you were going to wait for the weekend. Were you able to get an appointment?" The words still sounded odd to her ear, but this was the Evans way, and she tried not to show her disdain for the practice. 
"No, I wasn’t, but that’s not going to stop me. I just talked to his secretary and told her that I wanted to surprise him with a little visit since I haven’t been to his office in so many years. She’s going to make sure he’s free at four o’clock."
Ryan nodded, knowing that this would be a very stressful day for her partner. "How do you feel about your match?" The golf competition had taken a back seat to Jamie’s anger the entire week, and oddly that distraction had allowed her to play very well. She was still in second place, and a win today would ensure her a spot on the team. Her odds were still very good, even if she lost, but Jamie was determined to do her best.
"I feel good. I’m playing a freshman, and she seems really nervous. She’s good, but she needs a lot of seasoning. I honestly think that she’d do well to practice this year and work with a teacher to improve her confidence level, so I don’t think I’ll feel guilty if I beat her."
Hmm…I wonder what that feels like? Ryan mused. Have I ever felt guilty about beating anyone? I felt sorry for those women I thrashed during my volleyball tryout, but that certainly wasn’t guilt.
"Ryan!"
"Huh? Oh, sorry," she said. "I was just thinking about something. What did you say?"
"I said that I’d like to take the Lexus again today. You don’t mind, do you?"
"Course not. You’ll probably have to put gas in it, though."
Sighing heavily while giving Ryan a mock perturbed look, Jamie asked, "Do you ever actually fill it up? It’s chronically on empty!"
With an adolescent looking shrug, Ryan replied, "Yeah, I do fill it up. I just have a thing about buying gas. I put it off for as long as humanly possible."
"You’re gonna run out someday, Buff. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya."
"Duly noted," Ryan nodded, even though she was sure that would never happen.

Jim Evans barreled past his secretary a little after four, muttering, "I’m gonna try to get out of here, Helen. Anything urgent I need to know?"
"No," she said brightly, pleased with her role in arranging for Jamie to visit the office. "Enjoy yourself."
He cast a puzzled glance in her direction before opening the door to his inner office. Striding over to his desk, he grabbed his large briefcase and started throwing files into it, wracking his brain to make sure he brought everything he might need to complete a major deal with a Swedish company. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t see the young woman sitting patiently on his burgundy leather couch. Hitting the intercom he barked, "Helen, have my driver meet me at the front door of the building. It’ll take me all night to get to Pebble Beach as it is."
"Uh…yes, sir," she replied, puzzled by this order.
He shut the case, hefted it off the desk and started for the door when a quiet voice asked, "Don’t you think you should make a little time for your daughter before you leave town?"
The case fell to the floor, slamming into the carpet with a dull thud. "J--Jamie," he stuttered. "Wow, what a nice surprise!" His face immediately grew pale, and Jamie felt a burst of pleasure at having caught him so off guard. 
"Tell your driver that you won’t need him for a while," she said coolly, her green eyes boring into him with unblinking intensity.
"Well…um…I have a big deal going on, Honey, and I uh…I’ve arranged for a conference call for late tonight…"
"You can do it from here," she said, her tone flat, yet determined. "Helen can change the arrangements when she cancels your driver."
"I’ve got an early tee time with a client…"
"Fine," she snapped, her limited patience at an end. "Let’s make this quick then. Ryan is my life partner. What you do to her, you do to me. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you like it or not—she’s staying! We live together—permanently! By the way, you can’t throw her out of a house that isn’t yours—it’s Mother’s, and she wants Ryan to stay. Maybe you should be a little more careful in trying to control things that you don’t own!"
Her face was red, both from anger and the hurt that had been welling up in her chest. She stood and approached him, getting close enough to see the small nervous tic in his right eye. "It’s bad enough what you’ve tried to do to Ryan, but what you’ve done to mother is beyond contempt. You’ve disgraced your family by cheating on her, and it sickens me to admit that we share the same genes!"
She turned on her heel and made for the door, not getting four steps away when his equally fiery temper snapped and he slammed his hand down on his desk and yelled, "That bitch!"
Wheeling around and flinging herself in his direction, Jamie grabbed the lapels of his custom-made suit and gave him a powerful shake. "Don’t you DARE speak of my mother that way! DON’T YOU DARE!"
His hands automatically grabbed hers, and he peeled her off of his suit, his dumbfounded look reflecting his befuddlement. "What? I never…" Realization dawned and he shook his head quickly. "I’m not talking about your mother," he growled. "I’m talking about that sanctimonious bitch you’re living with. I guess it’s okay for her to lie to me, huh?" he demanded, his anger nearly equal to his daughter’s.
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Jamie asked, her entire body shaking with rage.
"The bitch swore she’d never tell you, but the second I call her on her little extortion scheme, she can’t keep her mouth shut!"
The rage that flowed through her body was stunning in its intensity. Without having any conscious thought of what she was doing, Jamie started to advance on her father as he retreated in shock. 
"WHAT!" She slapped hard against his muscular chest, both hands open, the sharp sound echoing loudly in the quiet room.
"ARE!" He backed up a step, hitting the back of his leg against a low table as he tried to escape her attack.
"YOU!" Another slap as her hands gave him another rough push, the furor in her eyes stunning him into speechlessness.
"TALKING!" An even harder push caused him to stumble a bit, his body unused to moving around his office in a backwards direction. 
"ABOUT!" 
She had shoved him into the corner of the office, and he fell into the couch, nearly too shocked to speak. His daughter stood over him, her fists clenched, a look of absolute rage distorting her normally attractive features. She was breathing so heavily that her chest was heaving, and for just a moment, he was afraid that she would punch him. With effort, he managed to sputter, "She told me that she wouldn’t tell. I thought we had an understanding!"
A sound unlike any he had ever heard from a human erupted from her throat, and before he could say another word, she was gone, nearly sprinting from his suddenly silent office.

After a long week of two-a-day practice sessions, Ryan was physically and mentally exhausted as she drove across the Bay Bridge during the height of rush hour, having a hard time getting through the near-gridlock even on her Harley. It was legal to straddle a lane on a bike, and she made slow progress until some aggressive jerk decided to block motorcycle access by wedging his car between the lanes. Damn! It’s not like I’m not nervous enough! Sitting in this mess makes me feel like jumping out of my skin on a good day, and this is turning out to be anything but a good day. Practice had gone poorly, Coach Placer ragging on the team for the entire two-hour session. Ryan knew that they were just exhausted, but she realized that he had certain expectations that were not being met, mostly because they had missed the previous week of practice because of repairs to the gym. She knew that she had been much less than sharp, and she had seen her coach give her several long looks of near-disgust at her poor execution of the fundamentals.
I’m so damned worried about what’s going on with Jamie that I was in another world! I have got to be able to focus better or he’s gonna have my ass!
When she pulled up in front of the house, she was pleased to see Conor’s big black truck blocking the driveway. Well, at least I’ll have someone to talk with to take my mind off Jamie.
Conor proved to be a very competent distraction as they sat in the kitchen having a beer. He was going out soon, accompanying some of the cousins to a baseball game, but he lingered as long as he could, sensing that his little sister needed to talk.
They had just finished their beers when the front door flew open, the heavy frame rattling as it slammed. Giving her brother a wide-eyed look, Ryan got to her feet and walked toward the living room, only to find herself face-to-face with her extremely angry lover. "HOW COULD YOU?" Approaching Ryan with a menacing look on her face, Jamie raised her hands, looking like she was going to grab the startled woman. She paused a second, looking down at her hands as though they belonged to someone else. Roughly crossing her arms over her chest, she tucked a hand into each armpit, seemingly trying to stop herself from striking Ryan. Again she said, "How could you?" By this time she was backing up, and as she moved back the rage that colored her face began to dissipate, slowly being replace with a devastated look of hurt that tore at Ryan’s soul. "How could you?" she finally cried, nearly hysterically, as she turned and ran down the stairs to their bedroom.
Ryan was right on her heels, leaping over a cowering Duffy, who was trying to find a safe place to hide. 
Jamie was standing in the middle of their room, looking like she had no idea of what to do. Her face was both flushed and deathly pale, small patches of bright red on an otherwise chalk-colored canvas. Her hands clenched and released as her entire body shook with rage. 
Approaching her partner as gently as she could, Ryan placed a hand on her shoulder, only to have it roughly pushed away. That one small act felt like a stake driving into her heart, and Ryan had to bite her lip hard not to collapse in tears. "Don’t you touch me!" The voice bore no resemblance to Jamie's usual loving tone, and Ryan’s heart clenched again as the thought flashed through her mind that Jamie might actually be unable to forgive her.
Feeling desperate, Ryan begged, "Jamie, please let me explain. Please!"
Glaring at her with a face full of contempt, Jamie spat, "Did you know that my father had an affair?"
"Yes, I did, but…"
Holding up a hand, she asked the follow-up. "Did you tell him that you would keep it a secret from me?"
"Yes, but it’s not like it…"
"QUIET!" She clapped her hands over her ears, unable to hear another word from the woman that she had trusted completely, who had now betrayed her. "I can’t stand to hear another word from you!" Groping roughly through her pockets, she found the keys to the Lexus and made for the door.
"Jamie, please, please don’t leave when you’re this angry." Ryan leapt in front of her, blocking her way. She was on the verge of physically restraining her, but recognized that such an act might make the situation even worse.
"Get out of my way." The tone was low, and so very cold that a chill settled in Ryan’s guts as soon as the words were out.
"Please," she begged. "I’ll go. I’ll go back to Berkeley so you can have the house to yourself. Just, please don’t leave when you’re this angry. It’s not safe to drive!"
"It’s not safe to be with you," Jamie replied, an ice-cold emptiness in her normally bright eyes.
Ryan hesitated just an instant, then once again put her hand on her lover’s shoulder.
With a look of sheer disgust, the smaller woman removed the hand and turned to spit out, "You think you know what’s best for me. You don’t! You think you can make my decisions for me. You can’t! I’m an adult, Ryan O’Flaherty, and you and every other person who wants to stay in my life had better learn that!"
Ryan was shocked into inactivity just long enough for the livid woman to run up the stairs and slam the door once again. Making her way to the door, Ryan opened it and stood on the deck, watching her partner get into the Lexus and peel out of her illegal parking space, leaving a patch of rubber on the pavement.
Conor approached his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked softly. He was loath to get involved in her private affairs, but he was unable to act like he hadn’t heard most of the fight.
She turned and fell into his strong embrace, burying her head in his neck as she sobbed pitifully. "I can’t," she muttered, wishing with all of her heart that she could unburden herself, but knowing that she could not commit such a betrayal of Jamie's privacy.

As angry as Jamie was, she knew that her partner was right and that she should not drive, so she went up the hill and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot at St. Phil’s. The church was open for Friday night confessions, and she went into the cool, dark space to allow some of the anger to drain from her body before she made any decisions about how to proceed.

"Are you sure you don’t want to go with us, Sis?" Conor asked for the third time.
Privately thinking that this was one of the big differences between men and woman, Ryan thanked him again and declined. Conor would think it’s okay to go to the baseball game in this situation, she mused. He would reason that going out would take his mind off his troubles and allow Jamie to calm down, but I could never enjoy myself knowing that my beloved was driving around San Francisco so angry that she barely knows where she is. I kinda envy guys for being able to compartmentalize things like this, but I know that going out with the boys would be the first act of my new single life. She shuddered at the mere thought, and tried to chase all such gloom and doom scenarios from her mind.
Her hands were still shaking so much that she had a hard time opening another beer. She sat on the deck, watching the sunset, thinking about Jamie and wondering where she could possibly be. The cordless phone was on her lap and after a few minutes she started to dial. She called their house in Berkeley, and luckily Mia was home, but she had not heard from Jamie. Ryan didn’t tell her what was going on, reasoning that Jamie would fill her in if she wished. The house in Hillsborough was next, but there was no answer. She knew that Jamie would not answer her cell, but she dialed it anyway, and when it immediately went to voice mail she knew that it was turned off.
Scrolling through the stored numbers, she hit the one for Reverend Evans, pleased when he answered the phone. "Hi, Charlie, it’s Ryan O’Flaherty," she announced.
"Ryan! What a nice surprise!"
He doesn’t know anything, she decided, trying to figure out how to get off the phone without worrying him. "Uhh, Jamie’s not home and I thought maybe she had come to see you this afternoon," she said, thinking that was a reasonable lie.
"No, I haven’t heard from her," he said slowly. Sensing something was wrong, he asked, "Is everything okay, Ryan?"
"Sure. I’m sure everything will be okay," she said with more conviction than she felt.

The filtered rays of a lovely sunset had just begun to paint the floor of the deck when Ryan heard footsteps on the staircase. Duffy ran for the stairs, cocking his head curiously, glancing back at his mistress and then at the visitor, trying to determine if it was friend or foe. His tail was low and wagged hesitantly, his ears set low as well. It’s clearly not Jamie, Ryan mused, knowing that Duffy would be in heaven to have his favorite home.
Getting to her feet, Ryan reached the top of the stairs just as Jim’s head popped into view. "Oh great," she muttered, turning her back on him. She walked back to her seat, picked up her beer, and chugged the remainder, hoping the alcohol would calm her jangled nerves.
"Where is she?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed and intense.
"I have no idea," Ryan drawled. "All I know is that it’s a flip for who she’s angrier with. Thanks for that, by the way."
"Her anger at me will dissipate when she comes to understand that I’m just trying to protect her," he declared.
Cocking her head, Ryan gazed at him for a long moment, finally asking, "Do you really know her so little, or do you just refuse to let yourself see her? Can’t you understand that even if I was using her, she’d never forgive you for being the one to point it out? For God’s sake, Jim, use your brain!"
"Brain! You tell me to use mine! What about yours? How could you be so stupid as to think that telling Jamie about my affair could possibly work in your favor?"
"I didn’t tell her," Ryan spat, her arms now crossed against her chest.
"Then who did?" he demanded.
Ryan would not reply. She merely stared him down. 
"You’re the only one who knows about Kayla," he fumed, still at the boiling point.
Ryan remained silent, slowly shaking her head. Eventually she repeated her original statement. "I have never told anyone about what I saw. I would never do that."
"Then who--?" he thundered, causing Duffy to move right next to Ryan, his hackles rising dangerously. As the words left his mouth, a look of stark realization hit the man, and he grabbed the edge of a chair, lowering himself into it heavily. "Catherine," he whispered, feeling perversely betrayed by his wife.
Ryan looked away, not wanting him to see the confirmation in her eyes. "You had a marriage that was limping along but functional, and a daughter that thought you were a great guy. What have you got now?" she demanded, cutting him to the core. 
"Thanks to you!" he yelled, causing Duffy to bare his teeth and growl. Jim realized that he was about to be attacked, so he backed off and said, "Everything that I’ve done, I’ve done with Jamie’s best interests in mind. That is my duty as her father."
Barking out a bitter laugh, Ryan narrowed her eyes and asked, "Does that include Kayla? I would think that part of your duty as a father is to treat your wife with respect."
He stood up, for just a moment looking as if he would strike her. Duffy sensed the danger and growled menacingly, causing Jim to lower his hands. Strangely, Ryan felt almost nothing when he was looming over her. At this point she was so grief-stricken over the entire situation that she hardly cared if he did hit her. He could see that all of the fight had gone out of her, and he knew he had nothing to gain by staying, so he turned and stalked off without another word spoken between them.

"Hi Poppa," Jamie said dully when the gray-haired man opened the door of his house at around eight o’clock.
"Jamie!" He reached out and wrapped her in an embrace, realizing from her desperate hug that she was very upset. "What’s wrong, Honey?"
She stood tall and pushed her hair from her face, wiping her eyes again as she did so. "Can I have a drink?" she asked as she moved into his small sitting room.
"Certainly," he said, going into the kitchen to fetch her a bottle of sparkling water.
When he returned she looked askance at the bottle, having had something alcoholic in mind. Reverend Evans knew what she had been looking for, but he could tell how upset she was and he didn’t think that alcohol was a good idea at the moment.
"Thanks," she said as he handed her the beverage. She took a long drink and let her head roll back against her shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that was knotting in her neck and back. 
"Ryan called earlier, looking for you," he said, slightly stunned when he saw the angry set of her face.
"I don’t want to see her," she said, shaking her head decisively.
His eyes shot open at that, but he decided to let his granddaughter tell her tale as she saw fit. "Start anywhere you wish, Jamie."
Letting her head drop to the back of her chair, Jamie sighed heavily and said, "Daddy betrayed our family." She took in another shuddering breath and added, "Ryan betrayed me."
Over the next hour, the young woman unburdened herself, revealing everything that she had learned about her father’s affair, his threatening encounter with Ryan, her partner’s decision to wait almost a week to tell her of Jim’s visit, her own confrontation with her father, and finally, Ryan's collusion with Jim to keep the secret of his adultery.
Reverend Evans had stayed quiet during her recollection, only asking for an occasional point to be clarified. Now that he'd heard the story in a linear fashion, he tried to address the issues that were wounding his granddaughter so badly. "What was Ryan’s explanation for keeping this a secret?" he asked, sensing that Jamie was angrier with Ryan than she was with her father.
The young woman blushed slightly as she allowed, "I um…didn’t let her give me one."
He nodded, having realized that was probably the case. "Don’t you think you owe it to her to at least hear her out?"
"No, I don’t," she sniffed, feeling more than a little self-righteous. "There is no valid excuse. She knew something that she should have told me. Not only doesn’t she tell me, she conspires with Daddy to keep it from me. Why would she do that?" Her voice was starting to rise again, and Reverend Evans tried to calm her down.
"I can’t know that, Jamie, but neither can you. Only Ryan can tell you why she did it, and knowing her, I’m certain that she had her reasons."
"I’m sure she just didn’t want to upset me," she scoffed. "Everybody knows what’s best for me! Everybody wants to decide what I know and when I know it." Her mouth was pursed in a hard line as she demanded, "Did you know that my mother was pregnant when they got married?"
"Yes, yes I did," he replied immediately. "It was a very difficult time for both of your parents, Jamie, and I did my best to help them through it."
Her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Did you know that my father has had affairs?"
"That’s not something I’m willing to discuss," he said. "I think that is between your parents alone."
"Fine," she grumbled, understanding that he wouldn’t feel comfortable revealing confidences. "It just feels like everybody knows all of these secrets and everyone is conspiring to keep them from me. I am so bloody sick of being treated like a child!"
He gazed at her for a long moment, thinking that she was acting more childish than she had in a long while. "Maybe they didn’t tell you these things because they were none of your business," he suggested, trying to keep the sting from his words by adding a warm smile.
She looked up at him with her mouth hanging open. "How can you say that? I should have known that my parents had to get married, I should have known that their marriage was on the rocks, I should have known that Ryan knew about his affair. Of course it’s my business!"
He shook his head slowly, knowing that he was making his granddaughter angry, but determined to be honest with her. "I know it seems like these things concern you, and I’m fully aware that they affect you, but that doesn’t mean that you should be told about them, Jamie. Whether your parents had sex before they married is their private concern. How your father treats his vows is for him and your mother to discuss. You are not the wronged party here, even though you’ve been hurt by this."
Realizing that he was not backing down, she focused on the one point she was sure of. "Okay, let’s say those points are not my business. Having Ryan know something like this and hiding it from me is certainly my business. She’s my life partner, for God’s sake!"
"Yes, she is," he agreed. "Don’t you think that you should treat her like that?"
"Pardon me?"
"The woman you’ve pledged your life to is probably very, very worried about you, Jamie. If you were as angry when you parted as you were when you arrived here, I’m certain that she’s beside herself. How can you let her worry about you like that?"
Suddenly feeling very small and very cruel, Jamie hung her head, which ached more and more by the second. "That was thoughtless of me," she admitted, recalling how frantic Ryan had been after their last fight. The woman had scoured every square inch of the Cal campus during finals week just because Jamie had been curt with her on the phone. "I couldn’t bear to face her," she admitted. "It hurt too much."
"Allow me to play amateur psychologist here for a second, Jamie. It seems like you’re taking all of your anger at your parents and compressing it into one ball of rage, which now seems to be directed at Ryan, and I think that is unfair to her. Until you hear her out, you should not assume that she’s betrayed you."
With a heavy sigh she rose, blinking rapidly at the pounding in her head and feeling a little sick to her stomach. "I’ll go home and talk to her."
"Don’t force her to carry all of your anger, Jamie," he urged. "I doubt that she deserves it."
When she reached the door, Jamie gave her grandfather a gentle hug. "Thanks for being honest with me, Poppa," she murmured. "Sometimes I need a good kick."
"We all need that once in a while, Honey," he said, ruffling her hair gently as she departed.

Jamie walked the two blocks to her car in a pensive daze, not really seeing the dark figure crouched in front of the Lexus. She bit back a gasp as the leather-clad woman rose to her full height, holding her helmet in her hands.
"Ryan! My God, you scared me half to death!"
"I’m sorry," she muttered, feeling like she hadn’t done one thing right the entire day. "I just had to know that you were okay."
"How did you know where to find me?" Even though Ryan knew San Francisco like the back of her hand, it was not a small town, and Jamie was shocked that her partner had tracked her down.
"I decided to start at the most obvious place. I’ve been here for a while."
"Why didn’t you come to the door?" As soon as it was out she realized that it was a ridiculous question and she shook her head quickly, indicating that Ryan need not bother to answer. Feeling a stab of guilt over the way she had treated her partner, Jamie said, "I’m calm now. Can we go home?"
With a relieved sigh, the dark woman nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "Please," she rasped, looking like she was on the verge of collapse.
"Come home with me," Jamie insisted. "We can come get your bike tomorrow."
Ryan looked like she was about to argue, but then realized how dreadfully tired she was. Getting in on the passenger side, she eased the electric seat all the way back to accommodate her long legs. There was stark silence on the ride home, neither woman wanting to reopen the discussion. The house was dark when they entered and to Jamie’s surprise, Duffy did not run to greet them. Searching the first floor, Ryan found him under her father’s bed, looking like he was afraid for his life.
"Why is he hiding?" Jamie asked, never having seen that behavior from the normally bold dog.
"He hates to have voices raised," Ryan replied softly, not mentioning that it was Jamie who had frightened him so badly.
Now feeling even worse, the smaller woman got down on the floor and popped her head under the bed skirt. "It’s okay, Duffy Boy," she soothed. "I won’t yell at your mama any more."
Jamie could barely hear the soft, "Is that true?" from her partner; but as the words registered, she shimmied out from under the bed and faced Ryan, promising, "Yes, that’s true, Ryan. I’m sorry I was so out of control earlier. I should never have yelled at you like that."
Ryan took a step toward her, intending a hug, but Jamie shook her head slightly. "I’m not up to it right now," she demurred, drawing another sad sigh from her lover.
Closing her eyes, the smaller woman fought with her instincts and finally forced herself to wrap her arms around Ryan’s waist, giving her a fierce, albeit brief hug. "Just because I’m not feeling affectionate is no reason to deny you a hug," she decided, smiling at the pathetically grateful look on her partner’s face. "Let’s get something to drink and sit outside, okay?"
Ryan went into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade, taking a seat a few feet away from Jamie. As she sat down she realized that this was the first time since they’d been dating that they had not shared the same seat on the deck, and she felt a twinge of sadness sting her yet again. Duffy poked his head out of the open door a few minutes later and judiciously lay down across the threshold, just in case Jamie didn’t keep her promise.
Deciding to let Ryan do all of the talking, Jamie looked at her and asked, "Tell me what happened, Ryan."
Assuming that Jim had come clean, Ryan began, "When we went to your father’s apartment this spring to study, a woman came in just after you and he left."
Jamie’s eyes grew wide, and Ryan realized that she probably didn’t know everything, but it was far too late for equivocation now, so she continued. "I stayed in the apartment for a few minutes, and when he got back it, uh, quickly became clear that they were lovers."
"Oh my God!" the blonde woman moaned, her head dropping to hit the back of the wooden chair. "You’ve known for that long!"
"Yes. Yes, I have," Ryan said quietly.
Lifting her head to look at her partner, Jamie asked, "What was going on in your head? Why on earth didn’t you tell me?"
"I felt it was wrong to tell you," she admitted, drawing a very puzzled look from her partner. 
"How…?"
"I make it a practice to never reveal unpleasant information about a living person unless it would cause greater harm to keep it a secret," she said, obviously having thought it through very carefully.
"Even to me?" Jamie whispered, leaning forward with her eyes burning into her partner. "Even when you knew how much it would hurt me?"
Ryan nodded decisively. "Even you," she admitted. "I don’t agree with much that the Catholic Church teaches, but one thing I’ve found helpful is the concept of sin."
"Sin? How is that relevant?" she asked, thinking Ryan was on a different track than she.
"It’s against my moral code to spread gossip," she revealed. "Because that’s a strongly held belief, it would be sinful for me to do so, even though I wanted to with all of my heart." She fell to her knees and moved until she was directly in front of her partner. "I’ve been tormented by this secret, Jamie. I knew it would wound you if you ever found out, and I had a strong feeling that your father would tell you that I knew. It’s been killing me," she whispered, tears starting to fall once again. "I’m so sorry that you had to find out about this, and that you’ve been so hurt."
Unable to resist the impulse, Jamie grasped her partner by the shoulders, the warm solidness of her body like a balm for the wounds she had suffered. "You say you can’t tell a secret unless a greater harm could result. Wasn’t this a greater harm? Didn’t you know how much this would hurt me? Would hurt our relationship?"
Ryan nodded slowly. "I knew it would hurt you, and I thought it might hurt us," she admitted. "But I had to balance the harm, Jamie, and even if I chose wrong, you’ve got to believe that I tried my best!"
Knowing that Ryan tried her best at everything in her life, Jamie softly patted her cheek, closing her eyes as she did so. "I know that, Honey. You always do."
Ryan’s dark head dropped into her partner’s lap as she began to cry again, her tears quickly soaking through the thin cotton slacks that Jamie wore. "I’m so sorry I hurt you, Jamie. I’m so sorry."
Knowing that she should leave well enough alone, but still deeply curious, Jamie asked, "If you had to do it all over again, would you tell me?"
Ryan sat back on her heels and blinked slowly, wishing with all of her might that her partner had not asked the question. Her head began to shake as she said, "Given the same circumstances, I’d do the same thing."
With a heavy sigh, Jamie got up, grabbing her head as the throbbing increased with the altitude change. "I’ve had enough for one night," she muttered, walking inside.
Ryan got to her feet and followed her, standing in the middle of the room and looking lost when Jamie grabbed a T-shirt and her toothbrush, saying, "I’m going to sleep in Rory’s room."
"But you’ve…we’ve never…" Ryan murmured, looking like she was on the verge of tears again.
"You’ve never hurt me this badly, Ryan. I just can’t be close to you tonight. I’m sorry, but I just can’t." With that, she quietly walked up the stairs, turning her back on her partner, without even a backward glance.

It was after two when the door creaked quietly. Ryan had not fallen asleep, exhausted as she was. She had gone over the scenario again and again and again, coming up with the same answer every time. She would not have told her partner, given the same set of circumstances, and she was not going to lie and tell her differently even though she knew that Jamie would forgive her if she did so. Her eyes were well adjusted to the darkness since she had been staring at the ceiling for hours, and a small smile involuntarily settled on her face when she saw her partner trying to walk stealthily across the floor. "I’m awake," she said in a soft, fully alert voice.
"Have you fallen asleep at all?"
"No. You?"
"No. Well," the smaller woman said with a sigh, "if we’re not going to sleep, I guess we might as well talk."
"Okay," Ryan agreed, not really happy about continuing the argument, but unable to relax either. "What do you want to talk about?"
"I’ve been going over this in my mind, Ryan, and it finally dawned on me that for you to insist that you would do the same thing says that this means a great deal to you. Can you explain it to me again?"
"Sure." Leaning back against the headboard, Ryan said, "Here’s how I thought it through. There was nothing that I could do to take away the fact that your father had an affair. Telling you would not have made him stop cheating on your mom, but it would have wounded you greatly, and would have destroyed your faith in him."
"This is true," Jamie agreed, feeling exactly as Ryan described.
"I was also very much afraid that if you knew, you would tell your mom. They have obviously come to some sort of an agreement over the years, and I was afraid that having this out in the open could destabilize their marriage."
"Okay, that makes sense," Jamie agreed. "That explains why you didn’t tell me at first. But it doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me once I already knew."
"You didn’t know much," Ryan reminded her. "And for all we know, your mom doesn’t know that it’s still going on. I was still concerned that this information would harm their relationship. That’s not a small issue for me, Jamie. For me to intrude on the sanctity of marriage is a very, very big deal." She shook her head slowly, surprised at her own naïveté. "There was also a small part of me that had the foolish notion that your dad might stop cheating if he knew that I knew. I guess I thought he might be more concerned about your and your mom’s feelings than his own needs."
"I think we know the answer to that question," the smaller woman said derisively. Pausing a moment, she asked, "Did you tell him you knew when he came to the house?"
"Yeah. He was trying to make me mad, and he finally did. I said it just to piss him off." Ryan shook her head, still angry with herself for rising to the bait. "That was an incredibly immature thing to do."
"We’ve all had our immature moments," Jamie reassured her. "Well, everyone except Mother. She’s taken the high road all the way."
"I admire her," Ryan said softly. "Putting up with a cheating husband just to provide stability for her child is a very selfless act."
"I couldn’t do it," Jamie warned, reminding her partner once again that cheating would never be tolerated.
"It will never be a concern for you," Ryan vowed once again, her sincere blue eyes shining almost clear in the moonlight. 
Jamie sighed, leaning against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with her partner. "I’m still hurt, Ryan, and I still think you should have told me, but I think I understand your reasons."
"I know you’re angry, Jamie, and I understand why. All I can say is that one of the things I bring to our union is my integrity. I have to do what I think is right, even when there’s a very good chance that you’ll be angry with me or have your feelings hurt. I would never hurt you intentionally, but sometimes it just can’t be helped."
Jamie nodded her understanding then yawned loudly, her jaw popping. "Can we go to sleep now?"
"Sure." Ryan scooted down in the bed, tentatively extending her arm. "Cuddle?" she asked, the lack of confidence revealing itself clearly.
"Always," Jamie said, snuggling up tight. "I’m sorry I refused to stay with you earlier. That wasn’t a kind thing to do."
"S’okay," she muttered. Her relief was palpable as Ryan sighed deeply, almost asleep in the time it took her to yawn. With a start she jerked awake, gasping, "Shit! I forgot! Your father came here this evening!"
"Did you hit him?" Jamie asked lazily.
"No, of course not."
"Did he hit you?"
"Again, no," Ryan drawled.
"Anything momentous happen?"
"He knows your mom told you about the affair."
"No shit, Sherlock," the smaller woman whispered, placing a soft kiss on Ryan’s cheek. "I love you, Ryan. Even when I’m angry with you, I still love you."
Nuzzling her face into Jamie’s hair, Ryan took in a breath, immediately calmed by the sweet scent. "Even when I hurt you, I hope you never question my love," she whispered softly. "No matter what, Jamie--through every problem, every fight--my love for you is constant."
Rolling onto her side, Jamie pulled Ryan’s arm across her body, tucking the large, gentle hand between her breasts. Sighing heavily, she murmured, "I know, Sweetheart. I might not act like it sometimes, but I know."

Part Two
They woke a little later than normal on Saturday, neither feeling particularly well rested even though they had slept through the night. Their normal level of playfulness was completely lacking, replaced with a slightly strained politeness that was quickly getting on both of their nerves. This is going to take a while, Ryan thought, trying to reassure herself. We had a very tough time last night, and it’s going to take time to heal, just like any injury. 
Even though she understood it, the dark woman was anxious to have the discomfort pass. Acknowledging that she had no earthly idea how to speed up the process, she felt a stab of hurt when she heard the shower running—Jamie obviously planned on showering alone. She always showers with me, she thought glumly. I guess she can’t even tolerate being naked together.
Rather than pining away for the closeness she craved, Ryan went upstairs to get breakfast started. Conor was still at the dining room table, idly perusing the Chronicle while he finished his coffee. "Hey, how’s it going?" he asked carefully when his disheveled sister entered the room.
" ‘Kay," she mumbled, heading for the kitchen to see if there was any more coffee. "What’s up?"
"I’m going over to Niall’s," he offered. "We’re gonna start taking his roof off. You guys wanna come?"
"Mmm…not sure," she replied, sitting down opposite him, a large mug held in both of her hands to warm them. "Good day for it," she observed, the late summer fog providing a cool backdrop for the work.
Seeing that he wasn’t going to get much response from his sister, Conor got up and started to clear his dishes. "I’ll do that," Ryan offered. "I’m gonna cook when Jamie comes up."
Hesitantly, he returned his plate to the table, deciding to press the issue. Walking over to stand in front of her, he squatted down so they were at eye level. The searching intensity of his gaze made her feel uncomfortable, and her eyes shifted quickly, unwilling to focus on his. "Is everything okay between you and Jamie?" he asked.
She nodded quickly, wishing he would give her some space. "Yeah. It will be," she said confidently, reminding herself that the resolution would not be quick. "We just need a little time."
Standing tall, he ruffled her hair, bending to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Take care of yourself, Sis," he said. "You look like you’re really hurting."
Patting the large hand that rested on her shoulder, Ryan assured him, "We’ll be fine, Con. Thanks for caring."
"See you later," he said, heading for the front door. "Give Jamie a kiss for me."
As soon as the door closed, Jamie appeared, showered and dressed for the day. She'd been miffed that Ryan was missing by the time she got the shower ready, but she assumed that her partner just needed some space. 
"You just missed Conor," Ryan said when Jamie came into the dining room.
"I missed Conor on purpose," the smaller woman said, taking the seat he had vacated. "I’m embarrassed to face him after my little display last night." She shivered involuntarily as she recalled her high-decibel outburst. "I assume he thinks I was a jerk." She knew that Conor cared for her, as did all of the O’Flaherty men, but she also knew that their allegiance would always remain with their sister.
Cocking her head in puzzlement, Ryan said, "I have no idea what he thinks, but I assume he thinks we had a fight. I’ve driven him to scream at me many times, so it’s just as likely that he thinks I was being a jerk to you."
Now Jamie was puzzled. "What did he say last night? Didn’t you tell him what was going on?"
"No, of course not," Ryan said immediately, shocked that Jamie would even ask such a question. 
"But you tell him everything," Jamie gaped.
"No, I don’t," Ryan demurred. "To explain what had happened, I would have had to tell him about your dad. I couldn’t do that," she added, looking helpless.
As she blinked slowly, it dawned on Jamie that Ryan had not been able to seek her family’s support and that she had dealt with the upsetting events all on her own. "You could have told him about our fight," she suggested. "That would have been okay, wouldn’t it?"
Ryan’s rapidly shaking head was a clear reply. "No, I couldn’t," she insisted. "I will never tell my family about the problems we have, Jamie. They love us both, and it’s unfair to try to get them to take sides."
Suddenly feeling very cruel, Jamie said, "It must have been hard to not be able to share with him."
"Yeah. It was. But this is our life, Jamie. We have to work things out between ourselves."
Leaning back in her chair, Jamie scrubbed at her face with clenched fists, rubbing her still-irritated eyes. "Thanks for keeping this between us," she said. "It would be hard to feel like they were mad at me too." She stretched a little in her chair, trying to get the stiffness out. "I feel like I’ve been pummeled all night long. My body hurts all over."
"Mine too," Ryan admitted. "I think I’d feel better if I used my muscles a little, kinda got the blood flowing."
Laughing gently, Jamie replied, "I’d like to spend the day soaking in a hot tub and writing in my journal."
That sounded like the seventh circle of hell to Ryan, and her face reflected her opinion. "Uh…okay…I guess we could do that."
Cocking her head, Jamie asked, "What do you want to do today?"
Feeling very much in need of an infusion of family, Ryan proposed, "Um…the fellas are going to Niall’s to take his roof off. I’d like to help…" She trailed off weakly, seeing the look on her partner’s face.
Pasting on a smile, Jamie proposed, "Let’s each do what will make us feel better, okay? You go play with the boys, and I’ll spend the day at a spa. I’ll take my journal and process some of the stuff that’s going on in my head."
"You sure?" Ryan asked, already getting to her feet.
"Positive," Jamie replied, seeing the relief on her partner’s face. "Just promise me that you won’t fall off that roof."
"I won’t," Ryan vowed, deciding not to mention that she would likely be at the top of the structure, since she was the lightest member of the crew. "I’ll stop for coffee and a bagel on the way over, okay? You don’t mind making yourself breakfast, do you?" Her face was creased into the first smile of the day, and Jamie realized how much it meant to her lover to be surrounded by her family.
"Of course not. You get going. And have fun today, okay? I’ll miss you."
"I’ll miss you too. Have fun being pampered."
As the dark woman scampered down the stairs, Jamie mused that they were both going to be pampered, just in very different ways.

When Ryan and Conor arrived home that night, Jamie had to spend a moment trying to determine which O’Flaherty belonged to her. Both siblings were covered with a layer of grime so thick that it looked like it would have to be chiseled off. They both wore bandanas tied around their heads, ostensibly to keep the grime out of their hair, but also effectively disguising their identities since it was impossible to see who had the longer hair. Both siblings wore heavy denim work shirts, nearly hiding Ryan’s most identifiable asset. Luckily, her full breasts poked out just enough to provide the means to I.D. her, and Jamie approached her gingerly, not wanting to touch the crud that covered her. "What did they do? Drag you over the roof until the shingles disintegrated?"
"No," Ryan laughed, "but it felt that way. 30 years of San Francisco dirt was infused into those shingles, and I think about half of it is on us. I almost called a cab so I didn’t get my car dirty."
"You get downstairs and get in the tub," Jamie ordered. "And don’t you dare take those clothes down with you. You strip right here."
Both O’Flahertys gave her guilty looks as they started to peel out of their clothes. The smaller woman blinked in surprise, but Conor assured her, "I’ve seen Ryan in her undies hundreds of times. No biggie."
"Well I haven’t seen you in yours!" Jamie cried, scampering down the stairs to the laughter of the siblings.

"Conor! Ryan! Dinner’s ready!" A few minutes after the call, Conor came slowly down the stairs, his body feeling the stress of balancing on the peaked roof for the better part of a day. When Jamie heard no activity from the basement she went down to fetch her partner.
Poking her head into the bath, she found her sound asleep in a tub full of murky water. Thank God she’s got such long legs! She would have drowned if her body could have sunk down low enough!

It started like all of the others, and even in her dream Ryan groaned and cried, "Not again!" But even though she fought it, the old nightmare began to play out and she was drawn into the scene, just as she had been so many times before. 
She parked her motorcycle and turned slightly to make eye contact with her passenger, puzzled to find Jamie smiling back at her. Jamie?
The smaller woman swung her leg over the bike, lightly holding on to Ryan’s shoulder for stability. She stood there patiently while Ryan got the bike secured, but when the taller woman turned back to say something she was hit by a jolt of raw fear when she saw the panicked look in the green eyes. Whirling around, she saw him, her mind struggling with the image of a lone man coming for them. That’s weird. It’s always a group, her dream observer commented. And it’s always young guys. 
As their assailant approached, Ryan saw the length of pipe in his hand and her eyes fluttered closed as she braced herself for what she knew was going to be a blast of gut-wrenching pain. She waited for the first blow, which always broke two ribs on her left side, her entire body tensed with anticipation. But the blow didn’t come--and she cracked opened her eyes to find a scene more painful than the original attack had been. 
Jamie was now standing next to her assailant—who removed the stocking cap from his face to reveal Jim Evans’ malevolent visage. The look on Jamie’s face was cold and remote as she spat, "It’s not safe to be with you." Then she turned and left with him, as Ryan crumpled to her knees, the pain greater than it had ever been when the pipe broke her body, piece by piece. She collapsed onto the ground, and curled into a fetal position, crying piteously as her heart broke.

The sound of her own tears woke her, and she fought to escape the dream, finally realizing that she was in her bed, and that Jamie was right beside her. They had drifted apart during the night, and that allowed her to slide out of bed unnoticed. She stumbled over to the loveseat and sank into the cushions, leaning her head back to catch her breath. 
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was only four a.m., far too early to get up. Her heart slowly resumed its normal beat, and she grew chilled, the perspiration that covered her body turning ice cold. 
Going to the linen closet, she retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around her body. Then she sat with her back against one of the arms of the loveseat, her knees drawn up until they nearly reached her chin, and tried to stop the grim parade of images that flashed before her eyes.

Ryan said nothing of her nightmare to Jamie, not wanting her partner to know how devastated she had been by her cutting words. They tried to get back into their normal Sunday routine, but it felt forced and uncomfortable. Ryan was stiff from the previous day’s work, and exhausted from lack of sleep, so they hung around the house reading and napping until late afternoon when they went to pick up Caitlin for the evening. The baby was ecstatic to see them, but when she kept looking at the door with a curious smile, Ryan finally realized what the baby was seeking. "I think she’s looking for your mom, Jamie," she said with a winsome smile. "She thinks she’s part of the package now."
"I wish she was here," Jamie mused. "I called her yesterday when you were out."
"How’s she doing?" Ryan asked.
"Ehh…I don’t think it’s going very well, to tell you the truth. Julia’s really unhappy to be moving, and Steph claims the treatment facility is run by sadists. Mom is afraid that Steph will break out if there’s any possible way."
"Ooohh, I don’t envy her. She’s really put herself out there for her cousins. I admire that," Ryan said. "So what did she say about what happened here?" 
"It’s pretty fucked up, Babe. She knew about the current girlfriend. One of the partner’s wives told her at the New Year’s party last year. Guess that explains why she got so blind drunk." Jamie thought of that horrible night, still able to recall the deep sense of longing that had made her want to ditch Jack and spend the evening with the long, lean beauty in the black leather pants.
"Does your father know that she knows?"
"That’s the fucked up part," the blonde revealed. "It’s an open secret between them—both of them acting like everything’s okay. I think she’s worried about what it’s going to do to their marriage to have the secret revealed."
"Your mom deserves better," Ryan mused, thinking that the chances of the Evans’ marriage surviving this storm were small indeed.
"Yeah, she does," Jamie agreed fondly, happy that she and her mother were slowly building their relationship into something that was solid and secure.

"You cold?" Ryan asked after emerging from the bath late that night.
"A little," Jamie admitted. The mid-August chill had firmly settled on the house, and the basement room was clearly the coldest space. 
Grabbing two T-shirts, Ryan tossed one to her partner, and slipped into bed beside her. "I’m freezing!" she shivered, feeling the cold in her bones.
"I’ll warm you up," Jamie offered, wrapping her body around her partner, briskly rubbing her back to increase her body temperature.
After a few minutes of the enthusiastic rubdown Ryan sighed and murmured, "Feels good. G’night." She paused awkwardly, not knowing how familiar she should be. Tilting her head up, she placed a soft kiss on Jamie’s lips and rolled over, presenting her surprised lover with a view of her broad back.
Well, I guess it going to take a little while longer until we’re comfortable with each other’s bodies, Jamie mused. Her hand paused above her shoulder, but she drew it back after a second. With a frustrated sigh of her own, she snuggled up against Ryan’s back, resting her head against the softly muscled surface. We’ll get there, she assured herself. It will just take time.

With all of the events of the weekend, they had barely spent a moment celebrating Jamie’s success at making the golf team. Deciding to surprise her, Ryan made reservations at Oliveto in Oakland. The relatively expensive eatery was well beyond her comfort level, but she knew that they needed a special meal to commemorate the accomplishment for her partner.
They had a nice dinner, relaxing at the small table for a long while as they slowly drained a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Ryan had noticed the pensive look on her partner’s face but had consciously avoided asking what was on her mind. Eventually, however, conversation was at a standstill and she asked, "What’s going on in that pretty little head?"
A small, wry laugh was Jamie’s reply, and she shook her head for a moment, trying to decide whether to reveal her thoughts. Looking up at Ryan with a curious expression she asked, "You know what still preys on my mind?"
Reaching across the table to entwine their fingers, Ryan shook her head. "No. Tell me."
"It’s the thought that you will keep things from me in the future. I mean, I understand your reasoning about keeping confidences—really I do, Ryan. But I worry about having you keep things from me. It’s hard for me to trust you when I know that you might do that."
Ryan looked at her intently, tilting her head a little as she seemingly switched topics and said, "Da’s going to be very hurt that Brendan has fallen in love and not told him about it. You know about it. Why haven’t you told him?"
"Well…I uh…"
Continuing on her path, Ryan said, "The boys will be very upset that I know about Da and Aunt Maeve. They’re gonna feel like Da’s playing favorites by telling me. You know the truth. Why haven’t you told them?"
"That’s not my business," Jamie began, immediately seeing Ryan’s point. Taking a breath, she saw the flaw in her partner’s logic. "The situation isn’t analogous, Ryan. You owe a greater duty to your partner. We’ve pledged to be completely honest with each other…"
"I am completely honest with you, Jamie. I am completely forthright about everything that I do. I will continue to always be honest about my behavior. But that’s all that I can promise."
Sighing heavily, Jamie nodded, obviously not satisfied. "I guess I have to take your word on that."
Ryan gave her a puzzled look. "My word? Why not look at my actions? I have been so painfully honest with you about everything that happened with Sara—sometimes I thought I was actually digging my own grave! But I had participated in something that I knew was wrong, Jamie, and I told you about it—in detail—immediately! I told you that I still had love in my heart for Sara—do you think it was easy to tell you that and see the hurt in your eyes! Jesus!" She lifted her hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a long-standing habit that indicated stress.
Jamie was speechless, not realizing until that second how hard it had been for Ryan to tell her about those incidents. The dark woman continued, "I didn’t need to tell you that I went to Mass with her on the day you returned. I didn’t need to tell you we had lunch together. But I did tell you, because it was something that I participated in, and I thought you should know. I will always, ALWAYS, tell you the truth about anything that I DO." She was speaking with quiet fervor, her voice not rising above the muted sounds of the busy restaurant. "That’s the best that I can do, Jamie. I’m very sorry if you need more, but I can’t give it to you."
It took a minute for the blonde woman to let these words reach her heart, but she finally allowed them in, realizing that Ryan’s fortitude was one of her most appealing qualities. Smiling gently, Jamie grasped Ryan’s hand once again, locking eyes with the lovely woman. "I don’t need more," she said quietly. "I just need you."

When they returned home from the restaurant, they nearly collided with a messenger who was just coming down the porch. "Jamie Evans?"
"Yes," she said wearily, knowing she was in for more bad news.
"Delivery. You have to sign for it."
She did so, then went into the house to take a look at the missive. It was a long handwritten letter from her father, explaining his version of the events and begging her to contact him as soon as she received the letter. Jamie was not impressed, tearing the letter into small pieces and throwing them into the trash. She didn’t read the letter to Ryan, and didn’t offer to let her read it. Her entire summary consisted of two words, "Yeah, right!"

By Wednesday afternoon, Jim Evans was nearly out of ideas. He had tried every possible means of communicating with his daughter, but Jamie steadfastly refused to take his calls or respond to his letters. Feeling like his connection to her was nearly severed, he tried the only thing he could think of, even though he knew it was a long shot and might backfire even if it did prove to be productive.
The investigator crisply answered his private line, "Dick Williams."
"Jim Evans," he announced. "How’s the investigation going, Dick?"
"Not bad," he said, stalling for time. So far he had expended much more money than he thought wise to obtain absolutely nothing of interest on the young woman he had been hired to investigate.
"Good, good," Jim said. "Keep on it until you have something major. I do have one more job for you," he added. "I need for you to expand your investigation. You do have international contacts, don’t you?"
"Absolutely," he replied. "We’re a little thin in the Far East, but…"
"Not a problem. My concern is Western Europe. Specifically, Italy."

That night, they lay in bed together, Jamie’s hand idly drawing patterns on the soft cotton of Ryan’s T-shirt. The larger woman had worn a shirt to bed every night since their fight, and Jamie was beginning to wonder if their easy familiarity with each other would ever be restored. The letter from her father had affected her deeply, even though she had tried to shrug it off, and she felt the distance between herself and her lover like a physical presence that was pulling them apart.
"Ryan?" she said, her voice soft and wistful.
"Yeah?" Ryan had almost been asleep, the soft touch of her partner always an effective sleep aid.
"Will we ever get back to where we were?"
The dark woman shot up into a sitting position, startling Jamie. "What?" she blinked, trying to make sure she understood the question.
Tears sprang to Jamie’s soft green eyes as she said, "I just feel so distant from you. It’s like you don’t want to touch me or be close to me any more. Will it ever be like it was?" 
She looked so fragile, so wounded that Ryan’s heart nearly broke. Wrapping her strong arms around the heaving chest, Ryan whispered fervently, "Of course it will be. We’ll get back to where we were, and then we’ll just keep going. We’ll always keep trying to be closer."
"But how do we get there?" Jamie sobbed, feeling that her very tentative overtures at physical intimacy had been rejected every evening since their fight.
"It will just take a little time, Jamie. We had a very, very tough spell there, but it’s getting better day by day."
With a shuddering breath, the smaller woman asked the question that had been on her mind since Sunday. "Will we ever make love again?"
Sitting up once more, Ryan’s wide-eyed look bespoke her shock. "God yes, Jamie! Of course we will! I was just waiting to get a sign that you wanted to…"
"I was waiting for a sign that you wanted to…" the smaller woman murmured, realizing that they could have been in this standoff for years.
"I felt that I should stay away since I was the one who hurt you so badly," Ryan offered, shaking her head at her obviously erroneous thought process. "I just assumed you wouldn’t want me touching you that way for a while."
"I thought you were still too hurt to want me to touch you," Jamie said, her voice soft and full of regret. She sighed heavily and said, "It’s not the sex, Ryan. We’ve gone this long without sex before. It’s the emotional distance that’s tearing me up inside. It’s feeling like I have to think about it and even ask permission before I touch you," she said softly, her voice a little rough with emotion. 
Ryan’s features gentled, and she gave her partner a smile filled with love. "Your touch heals me," she whispered. "You never have to ask for permission to touch me, Jamie. Your touch makes me feel whole and safe and secure. It’s a balm for my spirit."
Jamie fell into her arms, sighing gratefully as she felt her lover’s embrace surround her. "Will you touch me tonight?" she asked, finally confident that she would not be rejected.
"I’ve been waiting to hear those words," Ryan sighed, her hands slipping under the T-shirt that covered her partner’s body. As her hands moved under the soft cotton, she felt the goose bumps that covered Jamie’s torso, and shivered in response. "God, I’ve missed this," she moaned, her heart filled with the emotion of the touch long denied.
"Welcome back, Ryan," the relieved blonde whispered as the shirt was whisked from her body, revealing a wide expanse of skin that craved her lover’s gentle touch.
"I never left," the dark woman vowed. She tugged her partner into a warm embrace, holding her close for a long while, just letting their bare skin acclimate to the contact. Trailing her hands down her partner’s shivering body, Ryan felt hesitant, even shy, in her overtures. The easy familiarity with each other's bodies was absent, and even though she knew it would return with time and patience, she wasn’t quite sure how to get past the uneasiness. She moved at an almost glacial pace, her hands roaming over Jamie’s body while her face was pressed hard against her neck, breathing in her scent to help her recall the path to her lover’s pleasure.
The smaller woman nuzzled against her, every part of herself moving gently against Ryan, letting the dark heat that flowed from her body thaw the chill that had settled between them. The minutes dragged on with Ryan failing to move them forward, obviously shy and hesitant to lead the dance. Jamie continued to cling to her, her desire building slowly, but steadily. The strong, warm body gliding against her was maddening, the constant stimulation thrumming deep inside, neither increasing nor varying the pace.
Finally, frustration overtook her, and the smaller woman grasped Ryan roughly, focusing all of her strength to throw her onto her back. With a growl, she covered her, blinking as her eyes encountered the wide-open orbs of her lover. "You can’t tease me like this," she moaned. "I’ve waited too long to touch you." Her head dropped and claimed Ryan’s slightly open lips with a passion that she rarely revealed, her mouth grinding against her lover’s.
A strangled moan was caught by Jamie’s open mouth, and she smiled in satisfaction as Ryan’s arms flew around her neck, holding on so convulsively that soon her elbows were locked around Jamie’s neck. The larger woman clung desperately to her, giving up all pretense of control, surrendering to her partner’s greater need.
Fierce, bruising kisses rained down on her mouth, her lips swelling slightly from the combination of arousal and constant, unyielding pressure. The small, warm hands were everywhere, touching Ryan so possessively, with such unerring accuracy, that her body felt as though it were being branded by the heat that radiated from them.
The kisses continued to fall, moving from her tender mouth onto her neck, her shoulders, finally progressing to her aching breasts. As the first gentle nip caused the dark woman to cry out, a smooth, firm thigh wedged between Ryan’s legs, making her gasp in surprise at the sensation. So many signals flooded her brain that she could no longer tell pleasure from pain, pressure from caress. All she knew--and she knew this with every thread of consciousness--was that she had to thrust her hips against that firm column of thigh. 
Her own thigh lifted in response, the action unconscious but instinctive. Ryan’s hips began to pump--harder, more forcefully--giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously. Soft cries pervaded the room, but neither was sure whose voice cried out; both women's focus was solely on the building pressure between their legs.
The way was smoothed with the flood of moisture that flowed from each woman, the slick lubrication nearly causing them to slide from each other. Grasping Jamie desperately around the hips, Ryan’s fingers dug in hard, holding her in place with an iron grip. Her natural dominance flared, and they briefly fought for control, finally reaching an unspoken truce as their bodies settled into a deeply satisfying rhythm. 
Hands sliding up her lover's glistening body, Ryan grasped the swaying breasts that dangled over her, giving them a very firm squeeze as Jamie threw her head back and howled, her back arching dramatically as she surged hard into her partner.
Ryan tried to control her wild panting, but was unsuccessful, eventually giving in to the sensation of being completely and utterly out of control. 
Sweat dripped onto her body, merging with her own, and then Jamie’s torso fell onto Ryan’s, her hips hunching madly as she forced her body to respond to the rough thrusting. The bed banged forcefully against the wall as she pounded away, knowing they were both close…so maddeningly close. 
Jamie's head dropped onto the pillow and she grasped Ryan’s shoulders, squeezing hard enough to leave marks as her hips continued to surge. As she felt the first powerful blast of orgasm roaring through her body, she turned her head and bit firmly, sucking hard against Ryan’s pulse point, her desire to consume her lover almost overwhelming. The pain sent Ryan hurtling into climax, unable to do anything but hold on as tightly as she could, her body spasming and jerking roughly.
Their bodies were so thoroughly entwined that their orgasms seemed to flow from one body to the next, and neither felt satiated until the other calmed, long moments later.
Jamie rolled off and landed on the bed with a thud, all of her muscles abandoning her. She panted for air, her body still shaking violently, the emotion as powerful as the physical sensations that still flooded through her.
After mere seconds, Ryan rolled on top of her, the deep blue eyes locked onto hers with a quiet, intense, passion.
Jamie’s eyes widened at the hungry look in those eyes, and before she could think her hands moved to the damp, ebony hair, smoothing it back as she moaned, "No, no more, Honey. I…can’t."
The blue eyes gentled as Ryan revealed her need. "I needed to break that dam…to free up all of the frustration that’s been building. But now…now, I have to touch you slowly. I need to feed on you, Jamie…to taste every part of you. Please?" There was not a touch of hesitation now- in her body, in her eyes, or in her voice. She knew what she wanted--knew what she needed, and she was supremely confident that her lover would never deny her.
With a smile slowly forming on her face, Jamie ran a shaking hand through the dark hair and asked for one small concession. "Be gentle," she begged softly.
"That’s my one desire," Ryan promised, dropping her head to kiss her partner with a slow, tender flow of emotion. To avoid hurting the smaller woman, she was bracing most of her weight on her arms, and Jamie pulled away slightly to turn her head to lick and kiss the prominent veins and muscles that stood out in relief, bulging under the strain.
She smiled up at her partner and flushed slightly under her bemused scrutiny. "I like ‘em," she shrugged, not having a better explanation. "Sometimes I just have to kiss ‘em."
"I like you," Ryan smiled down at her, "and I understand the compulsion perfectly." Dipping her head again, she kissed all over the now-peaceful face, dotting tender kisses on her forehead, all along her hairline, down the jaw line, and along her neck, savoring the salty musk of her skin. "You taste so wonderful," she whispered, going back again and again to reclaim her prize.
The smaller woman purred in contentment, savoring the sensation of the soft, moist lips trailing along her body. "Kiss me again," she begged, needing to feel Ryan’s mouth once more. 
Shifting slightly, Ryan fulfilled her request, lingering for long minutes as their tongues darted and teased each other’s mouths. With a heavy sigh, the dark head lifted and she pushed herself down her partner’s body, kissing, licking and sucking gently as she moved. Her pink tongue peeked out of her mouth to tenderly lave first one pert nipple, then the other. Maintaining her gentle, soothing touch she continued to nuzzle softly, pleased when she felt Jamie’s hands in her hair. The smaller woman didn’t try to guide her or press into her, content to feel the connection that was pulsing between them.
Lifting her head to gaze into her partner’s eyes, Ryan’s dark blue orbs searched the mist green ones that looked back at her with so much love. "I have to taste you," she whispered, her stare turning hot and penetrating.
The green eyes blinked slowly as Jamie wordlessly settled back and drew her knees up, giving her lover permission to savor her in any way she pleased. With a satisfied smile, the dark head dipped as her tongue darted out to barely trace the outlines of Jamie’s desire-tinted flesh. Once again, small hands threaded their way through the dark hair, soothing and encouraging her partner.
Ryan slid her hands under Jamie’s thighs and pushed gently, lifting her slightly and pinning her into position by nestling her chest against her buttocks. 
Seeing that Ryan wanted her body to be elevated, the smaller woman placed her feet onto her shoulders and pushed, helping to give her partner the angle she needed. She could see the satisfied grin on the lovely face when Ryan dropped her head and started to probe the sensitive flesh with the tip of her tongue. The position she had placed her partner in allowed her to maintain eye contact, and she did so hungrily, her eyes never leaving the green orbs that fought to focus.
In a matter of moments, her touch grew firmer, more determined, as she could feel her lover’s response start to build. She matched her pace, her tongue whirling gently, caressing every bit of skin with a resolute fervor, softening the pressure as she felt her begin to spasm. She held on tight as the smaller woman cried out, deftly slipping one of her fingers into the clutching warmth, helping to draw out and prolong the thrumming contractions. 
Savoring the experience fully, Ryan rested her head against her partner’s belly, feeling the gentle pulsing against her cheek while she nuzzled at her soft skin with her lips.
As Jamie’s body stilled, she withdrew gently, then crawled up her limp form to wrap her in a tender hug. "I love you so much," she murmured, kissing the damp brow again and again. "I never want to feel so distant from you."
"Never," Jamie vowed, her voice weak and slow. "It’s so lonely without you, Ryan." By the time the last word was uttered, the exhausted woman let sleep overtake her, feeling utterly loved once again.

"It can’t be time for school to start. We just started our vacation," Jamie complained as Ryan tried to drag her limp body from bed.
"I know it seems like that, but it’s been three months." Sitting down on the bed, Ryan pulled her recalcitrant partner onto her lap and cuddled her for a few moments. Leaning close to her ear she reminded her, "When spring term ended we hadn’t made love yet. Doesn’t that seem like a very, very long time ago?"
"Well," the smaller woman purred, "when you put it that way, I guess you have a point. It feels like I’ve been lost in those big blue eyes for a very long time."
"To be technically correct, you have been," Ryan teased, "but you’ve only been enjoying the entire amusement park for a little over two months." 
Feeling the warm solidity of Ryan’s body cradling her own, Jamie allowed herself to sink into the sensual haze of her partner’s alluring scent. "Maybe we should go on a ride or two before we have to leave, huh?"
"Yeah, that’s gonna happen." Picking Jamie up from the bed, Ryan carried her into the bath, setting her down on the cold tile of the vanity.
"YEOW!" she cried, hopping to the floor. "That’s cold!"
"Woke you up," Ryan reasoned, leaning in to turn on the shower. One sharp shove from behind and the cold water rained down on her, making her howl with outrage.
As the sputtering woman shook her head roughly, Jamie drawled, "Woke you up too, huh, Tiger?"
"You know, I had the crazy notion that once I left home I’d be in a mature, adult relationship with a fellow mature adult. I honestly didn’t think it would just be an extension of the constant teasing and practical jokes that I had to put up with from the boys. What did I do wrong?! 
"You made me what I am today, Ryan O’Flaherty. And don’t you forget it! I never played a practical joke on another human being before I met you!"
"So I’ve created my own monster?"
"You got it, Dr. Frankenstein. Now let’s get ready so I can get some breakfast into you before your first class. You need to put on at least ten pounds before I’m satisfied." Looking down at her own body, Jamie poked the extra flesh that had settled onto her midsection. "Actually, I’d like to just give you some of mine. I must have put on five pounds in Rhode Island."
Closing her eyes, Ryan ran her hands all over her partner’s body, her mouth quirked into a teasing smile. Concentrating hard she decreed, "I’d say seven pounds. And I think you should keep every one of them. I love a woman with curves."
Stepping into the shower, Jamie scoffed, "You say that now, but you’ll change your tune if I stay on this path."
"No I won’t," Ryan said, blinking her eyes slowly. "I want you to feel good about your body, and I want you to be the weight that feels most natural for you. That’s all that’s important to me."
The warm spray of the shower was beating down on her back, and Jamie maneuvered her partner so that the brunt of the pounding fell onto her. She took a soft cloth and proceeded to wash the long body, methodically working down the muscular form. Her face bore a look of deep concentration and Ryan knew that something was on her mind, but she decided to let her voice the issue when she was ready.
The shower was almost over when Jamie finally asked, "Are you sure you’re okay with me putting on a few pounds?"
Bending to kiss her wet lips Ryan assured her, "A few or many—makes no difference to me. I like you to stay fit and active, but that’s not even for your look—that’s just to keep you healthy."
"So you’re not more turned on by a thinner body?" she asked.
"Nope. I’m turned on by self-confidence and self-acceptance. If you feel good and sexy in your body, that comes across really clearly. It’s that energy that pulls me in."
Shooting her partner a guilty look, Jamie turned off the shower and handed Ryan a towel. "Now I feel all shallow," she pouted. "I want you to put on some weight mostly because I like your curves better when you weigh more."
Shrugging her shoulders, Ryan said, "So? That doesn’t make you shallow. That makes you—you. You need a certain kind of visual stimulation to turn you on. Why have judgments about what you need?" She was puzzled by Jamie’s feelings of guilt about her needs, and her expression showed it.
Wrapping her arms around Ryan’s damp waist, Jamie filled her lungs with the fresh, clean scent of her body. She looked up into her eyes and asked, "Can I be you when I grow up?"
"Ha! Like you’re ever going to grow up!" Ryan laughed as she slapped her hard on the butt.

Ryan was dressed and ready, lying on their neatly made bed, hands laced behind her head as she watched her partner dawdle. Grinning at her childlike antics, Ryan teased, "You used to tell me that you loved mornings. What happened?"
"You happened," she moaned. "I had no idea how wonderful it would feel to sleep with you. I just can’t bear to let you out of bed in the morning. You’re so warm and cuddly and soft." She sighed deeply as she smiled over at her partner. "When I used to go to bed at nine, I was asleep by 9:15. Somehow that no longer happens."
"Hey, don’t blame me for that. You’re the one who can’t keep her hands to herself," Ryan reminded her. "If it was up to me, we’d make love in the afternoon and sleep at night. You know my prime time is three o’clock," she reminded her.
A hurt look crossed Jamie’s formerly sunny features as she said, "Don’t you like making love before we sleep?"
Hopping to her feet, Ryan crossed the room and pulled Jamie into a hug. "Did that hurt your feelings?" The barely perceptible nod caused her to reply, "I need your touch like I need air, Baby. I’m just worried about you dragging through the whole term. You’ve got a very difficult schedule, and I want to make sure you’re rested."
"But what can we do?" Jamie moaned. "I start kissing you goodnight and before I know it, we’re…involved."
"I’m not sure what we can do, but if you don’t get eight hours a night you’re not going to be a happy girl. You’ve got a lot of class hours this term, and since the subject matter is not scintillating you really need to be awake."
"Since we have to get up at six, I should be fine if we are asleep by ten. Could we try to accomplish that?"
"Yes, we can," Ryan said. "It won’t be easy performing under the clock, but I can do it!"
"Okay, Speedy, go read me your schedule," she said, patting her lover's butt.
Moving to the desk, Ryan grabbed the little schedule that she had printed off on heavy card stock. "Okay, I have class from eight until ten on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Then I have a break until one, then I have two more classes. That’ll keep me busy until three. Then practice from four until six. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have an eight o’clock class, then a seminar at ten. I’ll probably spend a few hours on those days working on getting ready for that national math competition, and then I’ll need to spend a couple of hours in the weight room, and then of course, practice from four until six. I’ll run home for dinner, and then study from seven to nine, at which time I’ll make love to you for an hour and then collapse." She added a goofy grin to punctuate the statement, but Jamie knew the semester was going to be very difficult for her.
"You’re going to be swamped this term, Baby. Is it really wise to stretch yourself so much?"
"Well, no," Ryan said thoughtfully, "but I’m in a bind. I want to do that independent study next term, and I have to brush up on both physics and economics to give myself a firm footing. I really want to compete in this math competition because I’ve never taken the time to do it before, and it looks bad if I don’t take a stab at it."
"What’s it called again, Honey?"
"It’s the William Lowell Putnam Mathematical Competition," she said, drawing out the name. "It’s a pretty big deal. There are usually at least 2,500 people who take the test."
"It’s how many questions?"
"Just a dozen," Ryan informed her. "You get ten points for each correct answer. The problem is that the questions can be on any mathematical topic. You’ve got to be pretty sharp in all of the elements."
"Twelve questions," Jamie said slowly, shaking her head. "How could so few questions eliminate anyone," she wondered. "Don’t most people get 120?"
Ryan chuckled and said, "Um…the questions aren’t ‘what’s two plus two’. They’re hard." She crinkled up her nose as she said this, and stuck her tongue out at her partner.
Patting her side, Jamie acknowledged that fact. "I understand that, Silly. Still…I can’t imagine that a lot of people don’t get a perfect score."
"Um, Jamie, last year only five percent got more than 43. Only ten percent scored better than the median. It’s really hard." 
Returning her grin, Jamie cocked her head and asked, "Are you sure those were math majors? Maybe they got mixed up and sent the test to a bunch of English majors."
"Nope," Ryan chuckled. "I think the right people got the test. Speaking of English majors, though, you’re gonna have to brush up on some math concepts to get through your term, too."
"That implies that I have concepts to brush up, Ryan," she said, looking worried. "I’m afraid that taking these business courses is going to shoot my GPA to hell."
"Not to worry," Ryan assured her. "I’ll help you get through it. The math that you need to know is really very simple."
"Yeah, for you," Jamie scoffed. "For me?" She rolled her eyes dramatically, drawing a sympathetic smile from her lover.
"No worries, guaranteed," Ryan decreed. "Now get your sweet little butt in gear or you’ll be late for practice."
"I wish my golf practice wasn’t first thing in the morning. I’m not going to have my nice normal wake-up routine."
"Maybe Scott will change it when he sees what a bear you are," Ryan teased, knowing that her partner would put on a good face even if she wasn’t feeling peppy.
"Grrrrrrrr," Jamie growled, narrowing her eyes as she chased Ryan down the stairs to scare up a little breakfast.

Tuesday evening just as Jamie was getting out of her car Ryan rode up on her mountain bike. "Hey, Honey," she said happily.
"My head is throbbing!" the blonde woman moaned. "I had no idea how little I knew about business until today!" She was struggling with her packages and books, so Ryan dropped her gym bag from its secure place on her back and eased her bike down to the ground.
"Let me help you with that," she offered, and Jamie gratefully handed her two grocery bags. "What’s in here?" she asked, poking her head in.
"Just dinner for tonight and some snacks and some lunch for you."
"Only two bags?" she teased. "Where’s the rest?"
"There’s plenty, Sweetheart. I won’t let you go hungry."
Jamie went upstairs to change while Ryan put the groceries away. Mia came in just as she was finishing and asked, "Hey, what’s for dinner?" She walked over to Ryan and gave her a kiss on the lips while she tried to figure out if there was enough for her.
Ryan tousled her curly locks as she asked, "Are you our dependent? I haven’t seen you make a meal yet."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Mia threw her head back and giggled. "That’s a laugh! I’m the last person you would trust near a stove." She jumped up on the counter and looked at Ryan for a moment, their eyes close to level from her perch. "Do you mind when I eat with you guys?"
Ryan came to stand between Mia’s spread legs, then leaned over just enough to be able to give her a warm hug, as she assured her, "I love having you eat with us. It feels more like home to me."
Jamie interrupted the scene from where she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Hey, get your own girl," she warned her curly-haired friend.
Ryan turned around to face her partner but stayed right between Mia’s legs. The smaller woman laced her hands loosely around Ryan’s neck and bent over to peek at Jamie from over the broad expanse of shoulder. "If I can’t have this one, I don’t want one at all," she pouted. "You called dibs on the best girl in town."
"Now there’s no need to fight, girls," Ryan said amiably. "There’s plenty of me to go around."
"There won’t be if you try to share your luscious body with anyone else," Jamie warned. "You are the exclusive property of Jamie Evans, a sole proprietorship. And I stress the ‘sole’."
Ryan left her haven and wrapped her arms around Jamie, pulling her close for a soft kiss. "I love being your property." She released her hold and instructed, "Now you two go sit down. I’ll make dinner."
"Really?" Jamie asked. "Don’t you want me to help?"
"Nope. I sat around too much today. I need to do something creative." Casting an appraising look at her companions she mused, "I bet you could both use a cold beer. Why don’t you both sit at the table and relax for a while?"
"You’re the best," Jamie said as she gave her another kiss.
Mia hopped down and added a kiss of her own. "You are the best, Ryan. And you’re such an improvement over Cassie!"
"Gee thanks," Ryan said weakly. "That’s scant praise!"
Taking a chair at the kitchen table, Mia sipped the beer Ryan handed her and said, "Ooh, Jamie, I forgot to tell you. I’ve got news."
"Spill it," Jamie demanded, knowing that Mia always had a firm hold on the latest gossip.
"I saw the aforementioned ex-roommate today. She was with a different guy, and they looked like they were ‘together.’ I wonder if Chris got sick of her sorry butt."
"How could he not?" Jamie shivered. "Actually, even though every word that came out of her mouth was probably a lie, she did mention that they were breaking up when she came here this summer to torment me. Did you talk to her?"
"I would have, but she looked right through me. We were at the bookstore and she acted like I didn't exist!"
"Her impeccable manners are obviously still in place," Jamie observed. "I wonder where she’s living this year?"
"Ask your mom. She still hangs with Cassie’s mom, doesn’t she?"
"Yeah, I guess so, but I don’t think they’re as close as they used to be. My mom doesn’t really talk about her much anymore."
Ryan walked over to the twosome and took a pull from Jamie’s beer. She squeezed her shoulder and said, "I’d be happy if that sour little face never darkened our door again."
"You didn’t like her from the start, did you, Ryan?" Mia asked.
"No. I really didn’t, and I don’t say that about many people. I can usually find something to like about anyone, but I disliked Cassie from the day that I met her. And when she started giving Jamie a hard time…" She made an exaggerated display of smacking her open palm with her fist. "Lights out!"
"My hero," Jamie sighed as she wrapped her arm around Ryan’s hips.

Over dinner they all shared news of their day. The consensus was that Jamie had the toughest schedule since she had to keep Monday and Friday free to travel to golf matches. With practice every morning from seven to nine, and a class schedule that was without a significant break from ten until four thirty on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, she was really going to be swamped. Her classes were no day at the beach either. Since she had decided to concentrate on managing her own money, she was taking Introduction to Financial Accounting, Federal Income Tax I, Money and Capital Markets, and Introduction to Real Estate and Urban Land Economics. Just to keep her sanity, she added a course that she was looking forward to—Literature and Sexual Identity. On top of her classes she still had to make time for therapy, which she moved to five o’clock on Monday and Wednesday, barely leaving her room to breathe in the middle of the week.
Mia’s recitation of her schedule had her roommates shaking their heads and laughing. "I hate taking upper division courses," she grumbled. "The classes get smaller and smaller! I had to really scramble to get into the big ones. I’ve got one with 105 people, one with 60, and one with 50. I long for the days of those huge survey courses," she said wistfully.
"Um, Mia?" Ryan asked. "Do your courses have names, or do they only tell you how many people are in them?"
"Oh, they have names," she said, shaking her head. "Some nonsense about examining cultures in time and space—blah, blah, blah. I swear the professors must have competitions for the most meaningless course descriptions." She brightened appreciably when she announced, "I do have one cool course, though. It’s got 435 people in it!"
"What’s that?" Ryan asked.
"It’s in the music department, and it looks like we just sit around and listen to music. I can’t understand why we get credit for that, but hey, if they’re dumb enough to offer it, I’m dumb enough to take it!"
Ryan didn’t understand her friend’s focus on class size, and she asked, "What’s up with wanting the big classes? More people to copy from?"
"Ha-ha," she sniffed. "I don’t copy, Ryan. You never know if the person you’re copying from hasn’t paid less attention than you have. I’ll take my chances with my own shoddy study habits, thank you very much!"
"So…?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" she asked. "The more people, the more you can slither down in your seat and disappear. If there’s more than fifty people, the odds of being noticed are very, very small," she pointed out.
"You know, Mia, I don’t think this was what the founders of the University of California had in mind when they established this institution," Ryan observed.
"Oh, so what are you taking, Smarty Pants? What’s your major anyway? P.E.?"
Ryan was a bit surprised that Jamie had not talked about her major. "No," she replied with a smile. "I’m double majoring in molecular and cell biology and math."
Mia scrunched up her face in puzzlement and asked, "Why?"
"’Cause I like it," Ryan replied, thinking the answer was obvious.
"What kind of courses do you take? I’ve never known a biology major."
"Well, I’ve actually finished my requirements for bio. Now I’m concentrating on math."
"You should take this cool music thing with me!" Mia said brightly, thinking that it would be fun to goof around with Ryan during class.
"Don’t think I can manage it, pal. I want to do an independent study next term, and my advisor has talked me into branching out a little from straight math."
"What’s your independent study gonna be on? The theory of why volleyballs bounce?"
"Nooo," Ryan replied patiently, not offended in the least by Mia’s teasing. "I’m not sure this will stick, but right now I’m thinking about studying stock market fluctuations." She cocked her head and asked, "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"
"Of course," she said. "I’m all ears."
"Okay," Ryan said as she continued. "I don’t know if you know much about linear systems, but the two polar models are the random-walk model and the harmonic model. A model in between the two is color chaos, which produces irregular oscillations with a narrow frequency band."
She looked up to see that Jamie’s eyes had glazed over, but that Mia was staring at her intently. "Go on," the curly-haired woman urged. "This sounds fascinating so far, Ryan. I didn’t know that was something that interested you so much. That was color chaos right?" she asked with a focused expression.
Jamie’s mouth nearly hit the table. "Do you know what she’s talking about?"
"Not a clue," Mia said. "But I’ve been dating men since I was fourteen, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to look interested when they bore you to death." She smiled over at Ryan and patted her hand. "Not to imply that you’re boring me, of course."
"Of course," Ryan gamely replied, deciding to keep the rest of her topic to herself. "Never crossed my mind."

After they had finished eating, Ryan gave Mia a lesson in how to clean a kitchen properly. The smaller woman watched attentively and performed each of her assigned tasks, but when they were finished she said, "Okay, I think I understand how to do this. But why bother? Maria Los cleans because she likes to."
"I’m sure cleaning up our filth is what gives her life meaning," Ryan said with a smirk. "But henceforth, the price of a meal is to clean the kitchen. Just because she’s hired to clean doesn’t mean we should go out of our way to make the place dirty!"
Mia nodded at her, following Ryan with her eyes as she grabbed her book bag and went upstairs to study. As soon as Ryan was out of the room Mia commented, "I can never tell if she’s kidding or not. Does she really think it makes sense to clean up when you have someone to do it for you?"
"I’m pretty sure she was serious about that," Jamie informed her. "But you can always tell if she’s kidding by looking at her eyes. She just can’t keep them from twinkling when she’s kidding."
"Huh," Mia mused, on her way out of the room. "She’s a hard one to figure out."

To give her partner some space, Jamie worked in the library on the first floor while Ryan used her computer in their room. A little before nine, she went upstairs to find her partner busily typing away. "Still working?"
"No, just writing to my cousin."
"Aisling?"
"Yep. I’m ashamed to say that I never correspond with my other cousins in Ireland. Aisling is my eyes and ears over there." She turned and smiled at Jamie, adding, "I’ve been trying to get her to find out if Granny is mad at me for telling her that I was gay. Ais claims she knows nothing, but something tells me she’s holding out on me."
"Why would she do that?" Jamie asked, taking a seat on the bed.
"Oh, it’s a long-standing thing between us. She has to put up with Granny year ‘round, so she thinks I need to suffer a little once in a while." Ryan laughed softly as she finished the letter and hit send. The e-mail disappeared so quickly that she blinked a few times and asked, "What kind of modem do you have in this monster?" 
She was already investigating for herself when Jamie supplied, "When I got the G-3, I decided to have DSL installed. It’s sweet," she added.
Whistling between her teeth, Ryan said, "Well, I should think so. My modem is so slow it takes me 20 minutes to download a song on Napster. Hey, if I bring my computer over here, would you mind if I hooked up a hub and shared your line?"
"Course not. I’ll have a separate one installed for you if you want."
"Splitting the signal is no big deal. That will be fine."
" ‘Kay. If you bring your computer here, what will you use on the weekends? Won’t that be kinda tough?"
"Yeah, I guess it will, but I don’t want to monopolize yours. I use a computer for almost everything." She looked longingly at the G-3 and said, "Of all of the things that you own, that’s the one I love the most. If you were the world’s worst girlfriend, I think I’d keep you just for your computer."
"I’m gonna put a megahertz on you, Buffy," Jamie threatened as she climbed onto her lap, straddling her.
Glancing at her watch, Ryan patted her partner’s butt and said, "Time’s a-wasting. Let’s get to bed."
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Jamie came back into the bedroom but found that she was once again alone. Now where is she?
She got her answer a few moments later when Ryan came back carrying two champagne flutes and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket. She was wearing a T-shirt and her sweats, but she stepped out of her pants immediately. Jamie looked up at her grinning face with a questioning gaze.
As Ryan tugged off her T-shirt she solemnly announced, "We have reason to celebrate."
"We do?" Jamie asked, peeking in the bucket to see a half bottle of a rather good vintage champagne.
"Yep. The course of my life was radically altered one year ago today."
"Oh, Ryan," Jamie squealed and pulled her partner down onto the bed. "It’s the anniversary of the day we met!"
"August the 24th will always be one of my favorite days of the year," she whispered as she took Jamie into her arms. "This has honestly been the very best year of my life. And every single day that will live on in my memory is because of you." 
Jamie slid her hand behind Ryan’s neck and laced her fingers into ebony hair. She exerted light pressure until Ryan dipped her face so they were nose to nose. "I love you so much, Ryan. I never would have suspected that taking one little course could change my life, but I thank God every day for allowing us to meet on that warm summer morning. Thank you for changing my life."
Ryan shifted just enough to be able to reach her rose tinted mouth. She bestowed dozens of tiny, soft kisses on those supple lips, but seemed content to keep her touch light and playful. Her kisses were tender and warm and sweet, but as with most things that Ryan did there was an undercurrent of sensual passion.
They managed to open the champagne and were even successful in drinking a good bit of it, as that slow undercurrent gradually became a raging flood. After a long while, Jamie paused for another healthy swallow of the wine, deciding that champagne was the perfect antidote for the dry throat she always got from panting out an orgasm. Her head was just beginning to buzz from the combination of wine and love when she glanced at the clock to see that it was ten o’clock on the button. Ryan was snuggled up against her back, lightly stroking her thighs as she urged her into sleep. The last conscious thought that lingered in her brain was, How did I ever get so lucky to be so blessed?

"I’m not going to be home for dinner tonight, Babe," Ryan said on Wednesday morning as she strapped on her backpack.
"Oh? Got a date?"
"Kinda," Ryan agreed. "I’m seeing a younger woman." Waggling eyebrows indicated that she was teasing, but it took a moment for Jamie to understand her veiled reference.
"Are you going to see Jennie?" Jamie had to think hard to recall the young woman’s name, having only met her once, but she managed to pull it from her memory bank.
"Yep. She’s registering for school tomorrow, and I told her I’d help her plan out her schedule. The only time we’re both free is after volleyball practice, so I thought I’d take her to dinner."
"Why don’t you want to bring her here?" Jamie asked, a little puzzled that Ryan wouldn’t do so.
"Mmm, not a good idea," Ryan said, shaking her head. "Her mom is not wild about me anyway, and I don’t want to antagonize her."
"Why doesn’t she like you?"
Ryan shrugged, trying to decide how much to reveal. "That time you saw us together, did Jennie tell you where she lived?"
"Yes, I think it was some kind of group home or something."
"Right. Right," Ryan agreed, feeling that it was safe to reveal the reasons behind Mrs. Willis’ antagonism. "I met Jen when she was first at the group home. It’s a place for lesbian kids that have been thrown out of the house—usually just because they’re gay."
It took a moment for Jamie to be able to get her mind around this concept, but she managed to say, "That’s so horrible!"
"Of course it is," Ryan agreed, needing to cut to the chase to get to school on time. "Anyway, I met her then, and now that she’s home again her mom doesn’t really want her to keep in touch with people that she met at the home. It’s really tough for Jen, ‘cause she was there for almost a year." 
"So is she going behind her mother’s back to meet you?" Jamie was a little afraid to have her partner seeing a minor if the girl’s mother was opposed.
"No. She lets her see me, but she wants us to focus on school stuff. She won’t let us do social things any longer." Shaking her head in disgust, she bent to kiss her partner goodbye. "Jennie’s fucked up enough all on her own. Having her mom trying to keep her from her friends just sucks."

A little after ten that night, Jamie trudged up the stairs, her brain clouded with facts and formulas that had never before taken up residence there. When she reached her room, she was surprised to find the computer turned off and her partner nowhere to be found. Taking a look in the other bedroom, she saw her lying on her back, hands laced behind her head. As Jamie approached, she could see the blue eyes darting across the wall opposite the bed, the movement rapid and very focused. She stood by the bed for a full minute, wondering what was going on behind those cool blue eyes, when Ryan abruptly turned to her and said, "Did you just come in?"
Shaking her head lightly, the smaller woman perched on the edge of the bed, stroking the errant hair back from Ryan’s forehead. " ‘Bout a minute or two ago. What were you doing?"
"Oh." Ryan looked slightly flustered, obviously a little embarrassed to be caught doing whatever it was that she had been doing. "I was trying to relax."
Climbing fully onto the surface of the bed, Jamie trailed her fingers across Ryan’s smooth forehead, commenting, "That looked like anything but relaxing. You looked like your eyes were following a really fast tennis match."
Now blushing a little, Ryan admitted, "I’m all keyed up from working on problems for the competition. When my mind is racing, sometimes I have to count to calm down."
Now fascinated, Jamie lay on her side, her face mere inches from her partner’s. She loved to learn little things about how her lover’s agile mind worked, finding that her appetite for the meaningful minutiae was unlimited. She slowly ran her fingers through Ryan’s silky dark hair, knowing that was another way to calm her lover's racing thoughts. "Tell me about counting," she asked softly.
Ryan swallowed, shrugging her shoulders as she did so. "I guess you don’t count, huh?"
"Ahh…no. I have no earthly idea of what you are talking about."
Shrugging her shoulders once again in an endearingly adolescent manner, Ryan tried to explain. "I uh…count…things." Jamie’s look remained blank. "You know—I try to find patterns and schemes." Her brow furrowed slightly, making a small indentation in the flesh between her eyes. "It has always calmed me down." 
"Always?" Jamie queried, assuming her partner was referring to her school years.
"Yeah. Always. My earliest memory is of lying in my bed, trying to figure out how many variations of the pattern of my wallpaper were mathematically possible." Looking up at Jamie with the same look of childlike wonder that she had likely evinced then, she said, "There were only seventeen possibilities. I was surprised!"
Blinking slowly, Jamie cocked her head just enough to bring her eyes level with Ryan’s. "Is that even possible? I mean, how on earth would you know to do that?"
Chuckling slightly, Ryan assured her, "Of course it’s possible, Babe. Every pattern can be manipulated, and most of them are finite." She was still smiling broadly, thinking that Jamie was teasing her, but then remembering that they didn’t see the world in the same way. "You really don’t see that, do you?" There was a trace of sadness in her voice as she acknowledged that this was a chasm between them that would never be breached. "I know this is silly," she said softly, "but I wish you shared this aptitude with me. Nobody that I love sees things the way I do. It’s…" Her eyes misted over slightly as she concluded, "kinda isolating not to be able to share things that mean so much to me."
Jamie sighed, not really understanding what Ryan was getting at, but realizing that it was hard for her lover not to have someone who shared her perspective. "No one in your family has this gift?" she asked, continuing to slip her fingers through Ryan’s hair.
"No, not in the same way. Conor has a little bit of it. He’s very gifted at seeing objects in space, and being able to manipulate them, and he’s good with numbers, but it’s not the same. My cousin Cormac has a talent for math, but he’s um…" she shrugged, unwilling to give herself as much credit as she deserved.
"He’s not as gifted as you are," Jamie finished for her.
Blushing slightly, Ryan agreed. "The last time I was in Ireland, he was working on some stuff for school, and he didn’t seem to grasp things in the same way that I do. It seemed like he had to really study the formulas and look at examples to be able to solve problems." She shook her head slightly, not really understanding what that would be like.
"I would guess that most people have to do that, Hon. To get through trigonometry in high school, I had to make little cards with formulas on them and spend my time memorizing them." She tilted her head and asked, "You don’t have to do that at all, do you?"
"Well, yeah, I have to learn formulas and stuff. But I don’t have to try to memorize them. It’s kinda like giving me directions to a place I’m vaguely familiar with. Once I understand the general parameters, it becomes obvious."
"I uh…I don’t have any idea what that would be like," Jamie admitted. "I wish I did. I’d love to be able to see the world like you do." They were quiet for a minute, just enjoying being close. "When did you know that you were…different?"
"Mmm…probably first grade," she decided. "My teacher used to just kinda stare at me when we’d do math. She finally went to talk to my parents, and they let me sit in with the older kids when they did math. It worked out pretty well."
"Sounds like you had good teachers," Jamie decided, remembering the story about Ryan’s second grade teacher, who had helped her decide on her new name.
"Yeah. Mostly. Only real trouble I ever had was in, mmm…fourth grade. I had this teacher, Mrs. Seickman, who just didn’t like me for some reason. She was trying to get us to take notes—not a bad idea for kids to learn—but I didn’t need to. She was so focused on writing things down that she didn’t seem to care if we were learning anything. We went around and around—she finally called Da and demanded that he order me to start taking notes during her boring lectures." Ryan shook her head, smiling at the memory.
"What did your father do?" she chuckled. "Tell her to take a hike?"
"No, no, no," Ryan assured her. "He is a very strong believer in showing respect for your elders, particularly teachers. We sat down and talked about it for a long time. I didn’t see the point in wasting my time, but he was adamant. Finally, he challenged me to think of a way to make it interesting." Her eyes were twinkling with an impish delight that always charmed Jamie.
"What did you do, Buffy?" she teased, knowing that Ryan would follow the letter of her father’s law, if not the spirit.
"I did just what old Mrs. Seickman ordered. I took notes for the rest of the year."
"How?" Jamie urged, knowing there was a catch.
"When I was feeling verbal, I took notes in Gaelic," Ryan informed her. "When I was in a math mood, I assigned the numerical value for each letter of every word, and then added up each word to see how much each lecture was worth."
Shaking her head, Jamie patted her grinning partner on the cheek. "I would have loved to have known you as a kid."
One dark eyebrow was wiggling, and Ryan informed her partner, "I had one more little trick that I used once in a while. When she was walking around the room, I was afraid of doing the math thing, 'cause she’d get mad. So I took notes backwards. She would look right over my shoulder, and she never even noticed."
A very self-satisfied grin covered Ryan’s face; even 16 years later, she was pleased with this small act of insurrection. Jamie was staring at her with her mouth gaping open. "You can write backwards?"
Ryan blinked. "Um…you can’t?"
Jamie rolled her eyes, pinching her partner’s pink cheek. "I have a feeling that I’m going to hear that phrase time and time again during our years together. I’d better get used to it."

Before practice on Thursday, Jordan approached Ryan and spent a few minutes trying to talk her into having a big get-together for the team. Ryan wasn’t opposed in theory, but she had some serious doubts about the soundness of the idea as Jordan proposed it.
"Come on, Ryan, we need to be leaders on this team," the blonde urged.
"I agree, Jordan, but I don’t see why leadership has to include taking the team out to get them drunk. I think that’s a little irresponsible."
"I didn’t say I wanted to get them drunk. I just said we should go out to a bar to bond."
"Fine. Let’s go to a coffeehouse to bond."
"Okay, okay. I do think that we’d relax better if we had a few drinks."
"You may be right, but I will not be responsible for taking a bunch of 18-year-olds out drinking," Ryan insisted. "I’m sure they’ve been doing it for years, but I don’t want the ax to fall on my neck if someone gets out of control."
"Okay," she grumbled. "We’ll do it your way. We’ll go to a restaurant. Friday night okay?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Ryan agreed. "I prefer to go home on Friday, but I’ll go if it means so much to you."
"Cool. We’ll have a big girls' night out."
"I’m sure my love can entertain herself for one night," Ryan decided, "but I can guarantee that she won’t like it."
"Bring her along," Jordan urged. "She’s a girl."
"Really? I thought this was just for the team."
"Well, it’s for a little more team bonding before the season starts. I think it would be good for everyone to get used to seeing you and Jamie together. I think they all know who she is, but if they spent some time around you they might feel more comfortable with your relationship."
"You’re getting the same vibes that I am, aren’t you?" Ryan asked, feeling that some of the underclassmen were still very tentative around her.
Jordan looked pensive for a moment, then allowed, "I don’t think anyone is antagonistic to you, Ryan, but a couple of the freshmen are from really small towns. I’m certain they don’t have a lot of experience with women who are as open about their sexuality as you are. Spending time with the two of you will help them see that you’re just average people."
Ryan nodded, making one small correction. "I’m average. Jamie’s extraordinary."
"Yeah. Well, call the extraordinary one and tell her you’re going out with the girls tomorrow."

Part Three
As soon as practice was over, Jordan announced the plan. "Okay, guys," she said to the assembled group. "Tomorrow night the seniors are treating everybody to dinner at Gypsy’s on Durant. Calzones for everybody before the season starts!"
Ryan gave her a sharp look but said not a word. As Jordan walked by she grabbed her by the arm and asked, "When did this turn into our treat?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she whispered, "your cheapness is showing."
"I am NOT cheap!" Ryan groused. "I’m careful."
"Well, take the lock off that wallet, Babe. We’re gonna party!"
 
Ryan breezed into the house after practice, nearly colliding with her partner who was obviously headed for their bedroom, carrying a collection of shopping bags.
"Well, well, well," Ryan smirked, casting a pointed glance at the bounty. "Trying to incorporate a bunch of new stuff in with the old?" She knew that Jamie went shopping frequently, but she rarely saw the fruits of her efforts actually brought into the house. The routine had developed that her partner would be wearing something that was obviously new, but she would lightly shrug off Ryan’s question about the item's origin. Now she thought she had her, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity for a good tease pass her by.
"I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ryan O’Flaherty. I merely picked up a few things for the woman I love."
"This is all for me?" Ryan gaped. "But I don’t need anything!"
"Of course you did. Your first road trip is next week and you desperately need a few things to travel." Giving her partner a doubtful look, Ryan began to poke around at the contents of the bags before gathering them up, placing them on the table by the sofa, and beginning a methodical inventory.
"Pajamas?" she said as she held out the first pair. "Since when do I wear pajamas?"
"Ryan, you’re sharing a room, you know. Sleeping in the buff is not going to cut it. You get too hot sleeping in your sweats, and I don’t really want you parading around in your underwear in front of your roommate."
Ryan discreetly failed to mention that Jordan would be her roommate and that she had seen her in far less than her underwear. Still she protested, "Two pair? Our trips only last two or three days. I could wear the same ones two nights in a row."
"I know, Honey, but you should have some pajamas for running around the house too. You don’t own a robe, and these are easy to slip on if you need to run downstairs. You need to remember that Mia will have guests sometimes, and I don’t want her dates following you back upstairs once they see you in your underwear. This is for your own protection!"
Smirking at Jamie’s wild exaggeration, Ryan kicked off her running shoes and shucked her jeans and underwear before slipping on the first pair of pajama bottoms. They were a very smooth brushed cotton broadcloth in a tiny gray and white check. There were four small buttons on the fly, but they were big enough to slide on without unbuttoning them at all, a feature that Ryan quite liked. A drawstring held them up and Ryan started to cinch them up at her waist, but Jamie stopped her fingers and pushed the pants down low on her hips and tied the string to hold them there. "That’s how I like them," she breathed into Ryan’s ear. "I love the curve of your hips and this shows it off." Stepping back to survey, she added, "Besides, your legs are so long that they’re way too short when you pull them all the way up. They look cool riding low."
"I’m all about cool," Ryan agreed placidly. Jamie was completely pleased with her selections after viewing them on her live model, and Ryan seemed to like them too. They were very soft and roomy enough to not be binding while she slept, and she had to admit that they would be cooler than her sweats were. She smiled down at her lover and said, "As usual, you know what’s best for me. They’re really nice. Thanks for thinking of me."
Ryan waded through several more of the little bags to find two new bras. She usually wore sports bras, but Jamie like her to dress up for bed sometimes, and one of her favorite things was to make love to her while she wore a lacy bra. And Ryan had to admit that these were terribly lacy. She also had to admit that Jamie had a perfect eye for her contours. The 36C bras fit perfectly, much to her surprise. "You should really consider working in a lingerie shop," Ryan told her. "You’ve got a great eye for size."
"With my breast fetish? The first time I did this," she indicated as she slid her hands around to gently cup both of Ryan’s breasts through the lacy black bra, "I’d be out on my butt!"
"Oh, but you’d have such a loyal clientele," Ryan whispered as her hands went to Jamie’s hips to pull her in close. After twitching her hips against her partner’s butt for a minute, Ryan turned and gave her a few kisses to thank her for her thoughtfulness. 
After a few minutes of increasingly passionate kisses, Jamie reluctantly broke off to remind her, "There’s more for you here."
Ryan shot her an amused glance as she opened yet another bag. This one held a pair of her old favorites--Calvin Klein boxer shorts and a T-shirt--but in a sexy twist, both were in a nearly transparent black lace. The fabric was very stretchy and very clingy, as Jamie was delighted to notice when Ryan slipped both garments on. "Oh my," she gasped as she took in the vision. She walked around her slowly, shaking her head and muttering, "Oh wow," repeatedly. Ryan just smirked at her even though she was pleased that her lover was getting such satisfaction from staring at her.
Finally Jamie placed her hands on Ryan’s shoulders and growled, "Dinner’s going to be ready in fifteen minutes, but I have to have you right now." Without waiting for agreement she pushed her backwards onto the sofa. Ryan went along willingly, always thrilled when her partner’s libido caught her by surprise. Jamie immediately climbed on top and began to run her hands all over the lacy material. It was soft enough to feel nice and smooth against Ryan’s skin, but rough enough to provide a delightful sensation when Jamie’s hands brushed against it. 
It was clear that this little encounter was going to be quick, so Ryan just relinquished control and went along for the ride. Her new T-shirt was slowly pulled from her body, but it caught on her hands and Jamie decided to leave it there. Giving the dark woman a quick glance, Jamie twisted the material around her wrists, effectively capturing them. She stretched Ryan’s arms out over her head, the posture causing her breasts to jut out in a devastatingly arousing fashion. As her mouth dropped onto one of the tantalizing breasts, the door from the kitchen opened and Mia entered the room. She paused for a moment, trying to decide if she should return to the kitchen, but she knew that she would be able to hear them making love from there, so she quickly dismissed that option. 
Both heads turned in her direction and both sets of eyes widened. Mia gave them a sympathetic look and offered, "I’ll go sit in the yard until you’re done. Give me the all clear when it’s safe to come back in, ‘kay?"
It took a second for the lovers to regain their senses, but Jamie finally scampered to her feet and said, "No, really, Mia. That’s not necessary."
The curly-haired woman stopped her retreat and gazed at Jamie for a second. "Um…why not?"
"We shouldn’t be doing this in the living room anyway. The living room is for all of us. We’ll go upstairs." She extended a hand to Ryan, giving her partner an encouraging look as the mortified woman tried to extract her hands from the tangled shirt. She finally managed, and then slipped it back on, the last tatters of her dignity intact.
As the pair climbed the stairs, Jamie asked, "The timer’s gonna go off in a second, Mia. Would you take dinner out of the oven?"
"Sure," she said, giving Ryan one last long look. "You might as well take the tags off those undies, Ryan. I don’t think you can return them now."
"Everybody’s a comic around here," the scantily clad woman grumbled, following her fully dressed lover up the stairs.
 
The interruption had cooled their ardor, so Ryan got into a more modest outfit and they returned to the main floor just a few minutes after they heard the timer buzz.
Mia had set the table and was just serving the meal when they came back down. "Finished so soon?" she asked,
"I just bought Ryan some new underwear and she was trying it on," Jamie said with a completely straight face. "I think it fit pretty well."
"Oh, I understand, Jamie," Mia agreed. "That’s exactly how most people try on underwear. I just hate it when I go to the store and forget to bring a 120-pound weight to straddle me while I try on clothes. It’s such a pain to get the salesclerk to do it."
Ryan smirked at her and walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I hardly miss being at home with you around, Mia," she said as she ruffled her hair affectionately. "You’re just like a female Conor!"
 
After dinner Ryan and Mia cleaned up while Jamie sat at the kitchen table chatting with them. When they were done, the slyly grinning blonde reminded Ryan that she had not finished opening all of her gifts. Ryan shot her a puzzled glance and asked, "Do you want Mia to watch? I think we’ve scarred her tender psyche enough for one day."
"It’s okay, Honey," Jamie assured her. "You’ve gotten to all of the R-rated stuff."
Ryan sat down and grabbed the last big bag. It was from the bookstore on campus and quite heavy. Blinking in surprise, she pulled the big white and gray box out to reveal a new PowerMac G-3 notebook computer. She stared at Jamie for a moment before she opened the box, revealing a sleek, black 500-megahertz machine.
Ryan reached up and absently scratched her head, then let her hand drop to tug on her ear a few times, a gesture Jamie correctly read as one she made when she was completely astounded. The two roommates looked at her curiously, wondering when she was going to say something.
She finally nodded her head once, placed the laptop on the table, and scooted her chair over until she could comfortably wrap her arms around her partner. "I love it. Thank you for being so generous."
Now it was Jamie’s turn to look stunned. She reached up to feel Ryan’s forehead, but it was cool to the touch. "That’s it?" she finally managed. "No arguments?"
"Nope. It will really come in handy this term, Jamie. The thought of three-day-long road trips without a computer was starting to give me hives," she admitted. "It’s going to be bad enough to be away from home, but to be stuck in a strange town and know that I’m wasting tons of down time has really been worrying me."
"Why didn’t you say something?" the blonde asked, fervently wishing that Ryan could get over her reticence about spending money.
"It didn’t occur to me," she admitted a little sheepishly. "I’ve never had any options when things like this happen, Jamie. I’d just have to grin and bear it. It’s going to take me a while to get comfortable using our money to solve problems." She gave her partner a thoughtful look. "Up until now I’ve been focusing on the problems that your money creates. I’m gonna try my best to get over that." She shrugged and added, "It’s just not productive."
"That’s very good news," Jamie sighed, nuzzling her head into Ryan’s neck for a nice cuddle.
"Hey, when you get comfortable being rich, can we stop cleaning the kitchen?" Mia asked hopefully.
"I’ll never be that comfortable, Mia," the dark woman warned. "Just put that thought out of your cute little head."

"Hey, Tiger?" Jamie asked as she walked out of the bath after brushing her teeth.
"Yes?" Ryan said absently, intently working on getting her new computer set up to her exacting specifications.
"Wanna play a game with me?"
"Uh-huh," she said, her attention divided, less than half of it directed to her partner. "Let me finish here and brush my teeth. Do I need to take a shower to play?"
"Not that kind of game," the blonde chuckled. She grasped the laptop and tucked it under her arm, saying, "I’ll give your little toy back after I have your attention for a moment."
"Speak," Ryan smiled, her blue eyes focused sharply on her lover.
"I have to develop and manage a stock portfolio for one of my classes, and I thought it would be fun to have you do it, too. Since you’re going to do your independent study on stock market fluctuations, I thought it might also be good experience. What do you say?"
"Works for me," Ryan said, extending her hands, fingers twitching to retrieve her computer. "What are the rules?"
Placing the computer behind her back, Jamie informed her, "We each can spend up to $500,000 on any combination of investment vehicles. You can put your money in a mutual fund, or buy Treasury Bills if you want. Of course, the more risky alternative is to buy individual stocks. My professor gave us a simple program for keeping track of our purchases, and he’s included a chart for determining broker’s commissions and other charges. I’ve got to keep track of my portfolio just like it was real."
Ryan nodded suspiciously. "Uh-huh, and would there be any particular reason you’d like me to participate?"
"Mmm…sure, Babe. I like to do everything with you. Don’t you know that by now?" She was batting her eyes seductively, and Ryan knew that she was being set up, but she didn’t care a bit.
"I have a feeling that I’m going to wind up doing all of the bookkeeping here, Sweetie," she decided. "I think you want me to do my own picks so I stay interested."
"Well, you can never resist a challenge," Jamie smiled, giving her partner a wink. "We’ll compete to see who makes the most by the end of the term."
"Deal," the dark-haired woman agreed. "Now give me my computer back."
Jamie handed it over, informing Ryan that, "I’ve got all of the latest financial magazines, and I’ve subscribed to the Wall Street Journal. We can share stock tips," she suggested.
"We most certainly can not!" Ryan looked horrified at the mere prospect. "If I do my own research, I’m using my knowledge strictly for my own benefit. You’re on your own!"
Rolling her eyes, Jamie climbed into bed, muttering, "What ever happened to ‘for better or worse, for richer or poorer’?"
"That’s for marriage," Ryan assured her. "This is a bet! Whole different set of rules, Babe."

On Friday morning Jamie arrived home at eleven, planning on making a good lunch for her partner. When she pulled into the drive for her unannounced visit she was puzzled to hear the heavy bass beat of music oozing from every crack and crevice in the house. What in the hell…?
She trotted up to the door with the sound growing progressively louder as she approached. Neither occupant of the home was visible when she entered, and if they had been they obviously could not have heard the door swing open due to the ear-splitting noise.
Jamie searched the first floor, finding Ryan clad in a pair of her skintight compression shorts, red in this instance. A matching red sports bra peeked out from under a large white tank top. Heavy white socks bunched over the tops of her white mid-height basketball shoes, and her red Nike cap sat atop her head--backwards of course. She was sorting a massive pile of laundry, while Mia stood at the ironing board, neatly pressing a pair of Ryan’s chinos.
Jamie walked back into the living room and turned the volume down at least six notches. When she re-entered the kitchen both women looked up in surprise as Ryan said, "Hi, Honey! I didn’t expect you!"
She placed her hands on her hips and mused, "So this is what you two do when I’m at school all day, huh?"
"Yep," Ryan agreed. "We just try to have everything clean for you when you get home. We’re like a twisted version of Leave it to Beaver."
As Jamie’s gaze settled on Mia, she had to laugh at her damp face and weary expression. "How did you get recruited?" she asked.
"I’m a member of the household, Jamie," she said with a self-righteous glare. "It’s my duty to my roommates. Maria Los is very busy with the cleaning we have her do. We should be responsible for our own laundry."
"Ryan, did you brainwash this poor thing?" Jamie asked her grinning partner.
"Nope. I asked if she wanted to help and she jumped at the chance. I’ll go start some lunch for you, my princess," she added as she kissed Jamie lightly. "I assume you’re hungry, Mia?"
Jerking her head in the direction of the living room, Mia immediately flopped down on the sofa and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. "Whew!" she said dramatically. "No wonder nobody wants to do their own laundry. It’s hard work!"
Jamie sat next to her and gave her an appraising smirk. "What was her lure?"
Mia looked a little embarrassed as she admitted, "Al Green."
"Was she dancing?"
A slight nod accompanied her flushed face.
"It’s okay, Mia. I don’t mind that you leer at her. And I agree that when she starts dancing and singing while she works around the house, no mortal could resist her charms."
"Does she do it on purpose? I mean, is it just a trap?"
"No, amazingly enough she doesn’t even know that she does it. But the fact that it’s unconscious is what makes it so appealing for me. She’s so sexy, but she doesn’t use it. That’s just how she is."
"I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You hit the jackpot with that one, Honey!"

Ryan came running into the house that night after practice, barely stopping for a kiss on her way to the shower. "Pick out something for me to wear, will ya, Babe?" she asked.
"Happy to," Jamie called, always glad to get her partner to abandon her jeans for a change.
When Ryan had emerged from the bathroom, she surveyed the outfit that her partner had placed on the bed. Her black leather pants, a black sleeveless T-shirt, and a starched white oversized oxford-cloth shirt waited for her.
Smirking to herself, she started to get dressed, looking up when Jamie entered her room. Stopping in mid action, Ryan started shaking her head quickly, saying, "No, no, no, that will not work."
"What?" Jamie asked, looking down at her short, tight black leather dress. "Don’t I look okay?"
"You look a lot more than okay," Ryan assured her. "You look scrumptious… luscious… fantastic…" Her head continued to shake as she ordered, "Take it off."
"What?" Jamie was giving her a completely confused expression, very unhappy to have Ryan supervising her style of dress.
"I’m not worried about the restaurant," Ryan said, "but I know Jordan will want to go to a bar afterwards. School just started; this is the first weekend out for everybody. It’s going to be wild out tonight, and I guarantee you’ll be fighting guys off all night in that outfit."
Now strangely complimented by Ryan’s logic, Jamie said, "But won’t you be there to protect me?"
"Yes, I’ll always be there to protect you," Ryan assured her. "But I have a feeling that out of fourteen women one or the other of them will manage to get into some kind of trouble before the night is over. I’d like to not have to worry about you too!"
"Are you really serious, Ryan?"
"Completely," she insisted. "If I was a guy, and saw you come in with a big group of women, I’d attach myself to you before you could take a seat. You’d have to call security to get me to leave you alone."
Jamie smiled at her, thinking that she was exaggerating just a tiny bit. "Well, what should I wear?"
"How about some of my sweats?" Ryan suggested.
"Oh yeah, sweats three sizes too big. That would look nice."
"That’s about the only way to hide your gorgeous curves, Babe. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"Funny, Buff. Very funny." She watched Ryan slip into a pair of very sexy black lace panties, then tug on her tight pants. "So I have to wear an overcoat, while you get to look as sexy as all get out?"
"Yep. Guys don’t like me," she insisted. "I thank God every day that I’m gay, ‘cause I’d be home alone every Saturday night if I was straight."
"Highly doubtful. You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and that wouldn’t change if you were straight."
"Well, we’ll never have to find out, will we?" the dark woman asked, her blue eyes twinkling.

Jamie finally found an outfit that Ryan approved of--a pair of faded jeans, a bulky beige cable-knit sweater, and her butterscotch suede jacket. It was unseasonably cold for late August, and Ryan knew that it would get worse as the evening progressed, hence her insistence on the jacket.
When they arrived at the restaurant every member of the team was there, with Jamie the only outsider. The whole team greeted her warmly and after just a few minutes, everyone seemed at ease. Ryan made it a point to sit next to Heather, who still seemed quite uncomfortable with her. Jamie, of course, was on her other side, and Ryan managed to get Ashley to sit next to Jamie, knowing that her partner could warm anyone up if she tried hard enough.
Jordan was across the big round table from Ryan, and she had snared the other two freshmen to sit on either side of her. 
By the time the meal was finished, Ryan had to admit that Jordan’s idea had been a success. Even though it cost her $110, she complimented her friend on the suggestion. "Good call, Jordan. This was very helpful. Everybody seems a lot looser than they were earlier in the week."
"Yeah, the thought of playing for keeps seems to have freaked the young guys out. I think being around us in a relaxed setting really helps them feel like they’ve got support."
"I’m sorry I doubted you, Buddy. You really seem to have a sense for team dynamics."
"Hey, thanks, Ryan," she said, grinning widely. "It means a lot to me to have you say that." 

There was a frat party on campus that all of the freshmen and most of the sophomores wanted to attend, so most of them left in a group. By the time things sorted out, Jordan was pleased to see that only women over 21 were left. "Now we party," she said, a devilish gleam in her eye. "Let’s head over to Blake’s," she suggested. "They’ve got live music tonight."
It was only ten o’clock, and Ryan knew she didn’t have any reason to beg off so early, so she quietly complied. She had never been to the bar, but once inside she didn’t really care for the atmosphere. It was loud and dark and filled with young guys, and she generally made it a practice not to mingle with large groups of men when they were drinking. Someone always made a pass at someone in her group, and sometimes the guy took offense no matter how politely the offer was declined. But since everyone else seemed in favor she kept her opinion to herself.
The six women found a table near the rear of the bar. There was a large stage set up for live music and as they got settled, a band came out and started to set up. The band members were in their early 20’s, and they looked pretty scruffy. The women were just starting on their first pitcher of beer when the group began to play. To Ryan’s practiced ear, they weren’t half bad. Regrettably, they only covered songs by other artists, producing nothing original. Most of the tunes they selected were relatively current and tended towards a rock/punk sensibility. The music was so loud that it was tough to have a conversation, but they managed, allowing the older team members to at least get to know Jamie a little bit.
Ryan scanned the room. She had learned the discipline in her martial arts training, and she found that she now did it automatically when there were large numbers of people around her. It wasn’t that she was paranoid, but she liked to size up the crowd and at least be aware if problems loomed.
Everything looked calm, so the tall woman began to relax and enjoy the evening. They whipped through two pitchers of beer faster than Ryan thought prudent, but Jamie offered to be the designated driver, so Ryan felt comfortable letting her guard down a little.
After their third pitcher, Jordan got up to visit the restroom. Seeing Jordan depart, Ryan decided she needed to take a trip herself. She considered asking Jamie to accompany her, but she knew that her partner would not want to do so if there was just a single stall. Rather than making her uncomfortable she leaned over and said, "I’ll be back in a few. Don’t order me any more beer, ‘kay?"
"Had enough?"
"More than enough. I’m really kinda buzzed."
Jamie looked at her carefully, seeing a faint fuzziness in the blue eyes. It was a subtle difference, and only someone who knew Ryan very well would notice it, but it caught her a little by surprise. "You okay? Need me to go with you?"
Ryan smiled at her partner’s thoughtfulness, shaking her head as she patted her cheek. "I’m fine, Love. No worries." 
She took off across the crowded space, eating up ground with her long, leather-clad legs. Jamie didn’t realize she was staring, but Grace caught her and teased, "Don’t you two get enough of each other at home?"
Blushing furiously, Jamie shook her head, giving Grace a small grin. "We’re ridiculous, aren’t we?"
"Nah, I think it’s cute. I want someone to watch me like I’m the most fascinating thing in the bar."
"She is," Jamie sighed, sneaking a quick glance to see if Ryan was on her way back yet.
The other three women decided to take off, and Jamie promised they’d do the same as soon as Jordan and her partner returned from the bathroom. After goodbye hugs, Jamie settled into her seat and waited patiently.
When Ryan emerged from the restroom she cast a glance at their table, surprised that Jordan wasn’t there. Deciding to look for her, she found her by a pool table chatting with two couples. Upon second glance, Ryan wasn’t sure if they were couples, or just women the men had picked up. Both of the guys seemed very interested in Jordan, and she was flirting a little, at least more than Ryan had ever seen from her. The women both looked miffed, and when Ryan came over to try to convince Jordan to leave, they both looked like they wanted to cast a vote in favor of her departure.
"I’ll be ready in a few," Jordan said, "but if you wanna go—go ahead."
The blonde didn’t look drunk, but she was behaving in a friendlier manner than Ryan was used to, so she decided to stay and keep an eye on her pal. "We’ll wait for you for a while, but don’t be all night, huh?"
"Deal," she said, giving Ryan a broad smile.
Striding back across the floor, Ryan saw the drummer sitting at her table, chatting Jamie up. Can’t leave her alone for a minute, she smirked. I understand the allure, but it does get a little old to have guys so drawn to her. Chuckling to herself, she decided, That was one nice thing about Ally. I can’t imagine how much confidence a guy would have to have to approach her! The band had obviously taken a break, and as Ryan slid into her chair, Jamie looked up at her partner with an impish grin. "Clive here knows Rory," she said, pleased with her investigative skills.
"Oh yeah?" Ryan extended her hand and said, "I’m Rory’s sister, Ryan."
"I don’t see much resemblance," he smiled. 
"Nah, not much," she agreed. "I was admiring your drumming before. Nice job."
"Hey, thanks," he said. "Not many people notice the drummer."
"I played percussion in band," Ryan informed him, to Jamie’s total shock. "Used to play in a group with some local women, too. Everybody used to hang around the lead guitar. No justice."
"Yeah. That’s the truth. Well, I’d love to hang out for a while, but we’re starting up again."
The blue eyes started dancing as Ryan leaned forward and asked, "Want me to sit in for you for a few numbers?"
"Are you as musical as your brother?" he asked, chuckling at her audacity.
"I do all right," she said, with just a touch of modesty.
"Eh, what the hell. It’ll drive the lead guitar nuts!"
"Hey, if it’ll cause any trouble…" 
"No, that’s a good thing," he assured her. "I love to drive him nuts."
He walked her over to the group, introducing her with a barely contained laugh. "CJ, Benny, this is Ryan. She’s gonna sit in for me for a couple songs."
"Again!?" CJ moaned. "Is that the only way you can score with a chick now, Clive?"
"Am I gonna score with you, Ryan?" Clive asked, his grin infectious.
"Odds are pretty slim, Clive," Ryan laughed. "I’d have to make some pretty drastic changes to be amenable to that."
"No hard feelings, Ryan," Clive assured her. "Signal me when you’re sick of these guys."
"Will do," she assured him. Turning to CJ she asked, "So, what’s up first?"
"Can you really play?" he asked suspiciously.
"Try me." She climbed up onto the drum kit, finding the seat just to her liking. Testing the action on the pedals, and running a few riffs on the snare, she pronounced herself ready.
"Know any Green Day?" CJ asked, slipping his guitar strap over his neck.
"Yup."
"Hold On…in three," he announced. He started to play, adding his thin, but serviceable voice as he did so. The song began with a quiet, rhythmic beat, the drum and bass silent. 
Do you have the time, to listen to me whine?
About nothing and everything all at once.
I am one of those melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I’m cracking up
Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?
Jamie watched her partner sitting confidently upon the raised stage, her body relaxed but alert. The lead guitar launched into the bridge, followed by an explosion of activity from the dark woman. All at once, Ryan flew into action. Seemingly banging on every element in the drum set, all at once. A massive grin had settled onto her face, and it was clear that she was having a ball. 
Considering the lyrics, Jamie had to admit that she had never heard a song so ill-suited to her lover. She considered Ryan one of the most well-adjusted people she had ever met, and whining was not in her repertoire. Nonetheless, there was an energy—a vitality--to the song that suited her temperament perfectly, and that was reflected in Ryan’s body.
As the song progressed, the dark woman started to show off a little, managing to make eye contact with Jamie while she was banging away. At a tiny pause she tossed one of her sticks in the air, somehow flinging her long left arm behind her back to catch the stick after two complete revolutions, then launch right back into the song without missing a single beat.
The energy was rolling off Ryan’s rangy body as she put every ounce of her being into driving the beat along. Jamie and Clive were bouncing along in their seats, neither able to contain their enthusiasm. Jordan, however, had just returned, and she was staring at her friend, transfixed by her ability to effortlessly pull off this feat.
Ryan’s temperature was rising as she worked away, and as soon as the song was finished she tugged her shirt off, leaving her clad in her black sleeveless T-shirt and her leather pants. Seeing her partner’s glistening, pulsing biceps highlighted by the spotlights, Jamie could feel her own temperature rising, and she began to imagine the inventive ways she could make those muscles work once they were at home.
The second song immediately led to a third, most of the patrons in the bar now watching Ryan perform. Her dark hair was flying as she beat out the rhythm, her energy and enthusiasm completely contagious. 
When the short set was over Ryan stood and took a quick bow, mostly ignoring the applause that she was greeted with. Her intended audience consisted of just one green-eyed woman who gazed at her with a look of wanton desire as she drew closer. Jamie got out only two words, but her statement was sufficient to make her needs known. "Home. Now!"

Mia started down the hall the next morning and spotted a pair of panties just outside her roommates' door. Hmm, Jamie must have dropped these when she took her laundry down, she thought absently as she stooped to pick them up. As she rounded the corner, she took no more than five steps before she spotted Jamie’s jeans. That’s not like her, she mused as she also grabbed them. A pink lacy bra was halfway down the stairs with a heavy cable-knit sweater a few stairs lower. Jamie’s shoes and Ryan’s black lace panties and bra were in a pile at the landing. A pair of shiny black leather pants lay just inside the door on top of Ryan’s big Doc Martens. Hmm, all we’re missing is a shirt, she mused. She opened the front door a crack and snagged Ryan’s black T-shirt, noticing a soggy white oxford-cloth blouse at the foot of the stairs that had just been hit by the sprinklers. Boy, I don’t know where they were last night, but I’m going there tonight!

Since their first game was in just five days, Coach Placer had called a rare Saturday practice, hoping to sharpen up the team a little. Ryan had been grousing about the practice all day in a way that was very uncharacteristic for her. She spent the morning in front of the computer, working quietly and interacting very little with her quizzical partner. Jamie chalked up much of her bad mood to the fact that they would not be able to leave for home until practice was over, and Ryan never liked to be shortchanged on her family time. 
Jamie answered the phone at four o’clock, fully expecting Ryan to announce that she’d be home soon. "I have no fucking idea how long we’ll be here," Ryan said sourly. "We may as well eat dinner over here, and then go home late tonight when traffic is a little lighter." Her disappointment was evident, and Jamie tried her best to soothe her.
"Don’t worry. We’ll have a little dinner, maybe a back rub. We’ll still be home tonight. Your father’s at work today anyway, Love."
"Yeah, I guess," she allowed. "I’ll see you later. Maybe you can remind me of why in the hell I wanted to do this, anyway."
"Ooh, I’ll show you when you put those cute little shorts on," Jamie teased to a dead silence.
"Okay. Later," Ryan said, completely ignoring Jamie’s attempt at humor. Oh-oh, she must have a killer case of PMS, Jamie thought. But when she did the math, that didn’t make sense. Hmm…maybe something else is bothering her.
Ryan came dragging in at 7:15, an uncharacteristic slump to her shoulders. Jamie was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner when she heard the door open, and after a few moments she poked her head out to see Ryan sorting through the mail.
"Hey, no hello?" she asked, walking over to hug her partner from behind.
Ryan’s body stiffened slightly, a signal that Jamie had learned meant "hands off". She relinquished her hold and moved so that she could look at her partner more carefully. Ryan looked as tired as she had ever seen her. Tiny blue smudges had settled under her eyes, which were a flat, emotionless, steely gray. Her color was also a little odd, but Jamie couldn’t really put her finger on the difference. "Baby, what’s wrong?" she asked softly.
"Nothing," Ryan replied curtly. "I just had a long day and I’m beat. I’m going to bed as soon as we get home," she grumbled. "This day can’t end too soon for me." She gave her partner an infinitesimal smile of reassurance as she quickly changed the subject. "Did you cook?"
"Kinda. I stopped at the market and bought some roasted chicken and potatoes, and I made some broccoli and a salad. Are you ready to eat?"
"Uh-huh," she said with no enthusiasm as she continued to sort through the mail. "Any calls for me?"
"No, no one called. Were you expecting something?"
"Uh-uh," she grunted as she kept walking and veered towards the stairs to go up to her room to change. "Be back in a minute."

As Ryan stripped off her damp clothes she tried to do a mental survey of her body, failing to understand what was going on. God, I feel like crap! Maybe I’m just tired, but I feel so achy. Jesus, even my teeth ache. She gazed at herself in the mirror, very dissatisfied with the reflection that stared back. I think I can feel like this from being over-tired, she reasoned. If I go to sleep right after dinner, I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning. 
She slipped into an extra large T-shirt and a pair of her new pajama bottoms and walked back downstairs. Jamie had set the table and was filling their plates as she entered the room. Ryan’s stomach sent a signal to her brain to leave the room, but she vowed to tough it out, deciding that babying herself never did any good. 
The smell of the chicken reminded her of a toxic dump, and as she sat down she tried to think of pleasant, happy thoughts while she got a bite of potatoes into her mouth. The roasted potatoes with rosemary were among her favorites, but at the first bite all she could taste was the light covering of olive oil they had been roasted in, and she had to force herself to swallow.
She fared better with the salad, eating a few bites of dry lettuce while Jamie watched her like a hawk. "Ryan," she said, "you haven’t really touched your dinner. Are you sure you’re all right?"
"Can you give me a little space here, Jamie?" she asked, much more sharply than she had intended. "I’ve been eating for years without a lot of help, and I think I can still manage." She meant this last statement as a joke, but it sounded like anything but.
The look of hurt that crossed Jamie’s face made her wish she could not only pull the jibe back but that she could bite her tongue off as well. She reached out and patted her partner’s arm, saying, "I’m sorry, Honey. I’m just not feeling like myself tonight. We had a terrible practice and Coach yelled at me." Her bottom lip was twitching as she said this, but she blinked once and added, "Just because I’m down is no reason to yell at you."
A small smile settled onto Jamie’s face as she deliberately brushed aside the curt comment and asked, "Why did you get yelled at?"
"I don’t know," Ryan said with an embarrassed look. "I just wasn’t sharp today. Coach said I wasn’t concentrating hard enough, and that really pissed me off. I was concentrating; I just couldn’t get the job done."
"Everyone has off days. Even you," she added with a gentle smile as she rubbed her arm.
Ryan looked at her reflectively for a moment. "Sometimes I feel like I’m never supposed to have a bad day. I feel like if I’m just a little off, everyone notices it and wants an explanation. Ken Nakajima was waiting for me in front of the locker room, and he gave me the third degree about why I screwed up. Jordan was all over me, too," she added, working herself into a frenzy. "They acted like I was a total fuckup just because I wasn’t sharp! I have feelings too, ya know!"
"Oh, Honey, I can’t imagine they were giving you that hard a time. Maybe you’re overreacting just a little bit, huh?"
A cold, steely-eyed stare was her answer as Ryan pulled her arm back and picked at her dinner for another moment. Without warning, she slammed her fork down and left the room, leaving Jamie to stare at her vacated seat in openmouthed astonishment.
Moments later she was back in the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and her running shoes. "I need some time alone," she said coolly as she turned and crossed back into the living room. As she grabbed her keys and wallet Jamie tried to get her voice to work, but she didn’t have a clue what to say as Ryan shoved the wallet into her back pocket and stalked out the door.
Crossing over to the window, Jamie watched her stride down the street, relieved that she didn’t take the car. The ringing phone jarred her from her musings, and she was surprised to hear Coach Placer identify himself and ask for her partner. "Hi, Coach, this is Jamie. Ryan’s not at home right now."
"Hi, Jamie. Um…can I ask you a question?"
"Sure. Anything."
"Is Ryan all right? She was acting very strangely at practice today, and I want to check on her."
Jamie wasn’t sure if she would be breaching a confidence, so she revealed only the bare outlines of what Ryan had told her. "She was home and she said that practice went very poorly. I will agree that she’s not herself today. Did anything happen to set her off?"
"I told her to get her head in the game, and she looked like she was going to slam a ball right down my throat," he admitted. "I’ve criticized her plenty of times and she’s always taken it just like I mean it, as a reminder or a suggestion. But today she looked like I’d insulted her. I was actually calling to apologize to her. I try to understand each of my players and never talk to them in a way that insults them, but either I have Ryan figured wrong or something else is bothering her."
"I’m sure it’s something else, Coach. She didn’t want to eat tonight, and she got angry with me over nothing. She just stalked out of the house a minute before you called. I think she might be coming down with something."
"Oh God, I hope she’s not coming down with the flu! It’s been racing through the campus all week. Keep an eye on her, Jamie. And if she is sick, do whatever you have to do to keep her home. I can’t afford to have the rest of the team get sick."
"Okay, Coach. But I might need some assistance to keep her at home. She’s looking forward to her first game so much that it’s amazing."
"If she’s sick, you just call me, and I’ll bar her from returning without a doctor’s note."
"It’s a deal," she agreed, knowing that stopping Ryan from playing would be the fight of her life.

Ryan sulked around Cody’s Books idly looking at magazines and new releases, but nothing held her interest. She knew that she was acting like a big baby, but she didn’t feel able to control herself. The words that had flown out of her mouth earlier felt like they had been spoken by a complete stranger, but she couldn’t stop the tape that kept playing in her head. Everybody expects so much from me! Damn it! I get tired, just like everybody else does. I let my concentration wander at practice, just like everyone else. Nobody else gets yelled at. Just me!
She flopped down into a chair in the café and surveyed her options. She really wanted to be at home, but now she was afraid to face Jamie since she had been so irritable with her. 
Feeling lost and alone and more depressed than she could ever remember, she ordered a hot cocoa and settled into a comfortable chair, hoping that time and distance would allow Jamie to forgive her.

As soon as Jamie hung up from her conversation with the coach, Jordan called. "Hey, Jamie, it’s Jordan. Is grumpy home yet?"
"She was, but I made her mad and she stormed out of here about five minutes ago. Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?"
"Not really," she admitted. "She seemed out of sorts as soon as she got to practice, and Coach really pissed her off when he told her to pay attention. I waited for her by the locker room but one of the assistants grabbed her and asked if she was okay. You should have seen the look he got! Whew!"
"I got the same look at dinner," Jamie conceded. "Did anything else happen?"
"No, nothing. I was going to try to talk to her, but she took one look at me and turned on her heel and stalked out of the gym. She didn’t take a shower or anything."
"I was wondering why she came home in her wet clothes. My only guess is that she’s getting sick, Jordan. She’s the worst patient in the world, so I hope I’m wrong, but it’s the only thing that makes sense." 
"If that’s how she gets, you have my sympathies. She was a real bear."
"Yeah, but she’s my little bear, and I love her no matter how grouchy she is," Jamie insisted.
"She’s lucky to have you," Jordan said quietly.
"I’m the lucky one," Jamie corrected her. "A few days of grouchiness don’t put a dent in all the gifts she brings to me."
After she hung up she began to clean the kitchen, musing about Ryan as she did. When she was sick on the AIDS Ride she tried to make me stay away, but then she felt abandoned when I did. So I think I need to stay close even when she tries to push me away. She doesn’t make that easy, but I’m gonna try my best. She put the remnants of dinner in some foil and cleared the table as she recalled how Martin had treated Ryan when she had cramps. He treated her just like she was a small child. Maybe that’s the only way she can let anyone in. I’ll just have to try different things. I think I’ll start with babying her. 
She knew Martin was on duty so she checked the number and called him at the station. "Hi, Martin, it’s Jamie," she announced when he answered.
"Jamie," he said with trepidation. "What’s wrong?"
"Not much. Ryan’s acting funny and I think she might be getting sick."
"What’s wrong with her?" he asked, immediately concerned.
"I’m not sure. She’s really grouchy and has no appetite. Do you have any advice?"
He laughed a little and said, "For your sake I’d recommend dropping her off at home and getting as far away as possible!"
"Oh, Martin, she can’t be that bad!"
"Oh, yes she can be, Darlin’. It can be a trial to figure out what she needs. I suppose my advice is to treat her about like you would Caitlin. She needs comfort and attention, but she won’t tell you that. As a matter of fact, she generally rejects all of your attempts. But if you hang in there and refuse to let her bully you into leaving, you can generally get past her defenses. Once you do, you find the scared little girl who wants to be held and loved."
"Martin, I swear you are the best father in the world. I don’t know many men who would be so aware of what their daughter needed."
"Believe me, Jamie, it’s not due to some gift on my part. It’s pure trial and error. I had to be mother and father to Siobhan and it took me a long, long time to get there."
"Is there anything I can make her as a little treat?"
"She loves tapioca and butterscotch pudding. And if her stomach is upset, she likes flat 7-up. Chicken soup is a big favorite, but you have to use the wide egg noodles or you’ve wasted your time."
"I assume you’ve tried other types of noodles?" she said slowly.
"I once made the grievous mistake of putting in rice instead of noodles, and I almost wore the darn soup!"
"How old was she when this happened?" Jamie asked, hoping that her partner was young enough to be forgiven for such an irrational act.
"Oh my, I’d say she was no more than three. To be honest, Jamie, she hasn’t been ill since she was a toddler. Lord knows she’s been injured more than ten girls her age, but never ill. The only times I’ve had to baby her have been when she’s had cramps." 
"I think I get the picture," she said slowly. "It sounds a little bit like nursing a sick cat."
"Perfect analogy, Jamie. Just watch out for the claws!"
"I think we’ll probably stay over here tonight, Martin. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how she’s doing."
"Best of luck, Jamie. There but for the grace of God, go I!"

It was 10:30 when Ryan slogged back up the front stairs. Jamie met her at the door and wrapped her arms around her before she had even crossed the threshold. "I missed you, Baby," she whispered as she hugged her fiercely. Ryan’s body was tense and unyielding and she did not return the hug, but as Jamie pulled back she got a good look at her face and she saw just a glimpse of the little girl behind the stoic façade. Ryan’s face was drawn and tired and even though her cheeks were flushed, the rest of her skin was quite pale and looked a little clammy. Pulling her into the room, Jamie saw a light brown stain that covered her partner’s shirt from her breasts to the hem. Leaning forward, she smelled chocolate, and looked up at Ryan with an unformed question on her lips. 
"I spilled my cocoa," she muttered glumly as she pulled at the still-soggy shirt, unwilling to reveal that she had fallen asleep as soon as she sat down with the steaming mug. 
"Come on, Honey, it’s time for bed," Jamie urged as she tried to guide her upstairs.
"I wanna go home!" She was in full pout, and Jamie could tell she was spoiling for a fight.
""I’m too tired, Ryan," she lied, knowing that her partner would never push her to do something she wasn’t in favor of.
Looking like she wanted to argue, but not able to bring herself to do so, Ryan said, "I’m hungry," and tried to get past Jamie to head for the kitchen.
"Let’s get ready for bed, and then I’ll bring you a little something. You look like you’re too tired to stand."
Jamie felt a little of the starch leave Ryan’s sails as she allowed herself to be led up the stairs, with Jamie taking her hand. She pushed her down onto the bed, unlaced her shoes and removed them. As she pulled off her T-shirt she was surprised to find that she had gone out without a bra. She unzipped the jeans and saw that the pajama bottoms were still on, bunched up in a way that had to be uncomfortable. Boy, she couldn’t wait to get out of here. Ryan put her hands on Jamie’s shoulders as instructed, and the smaller woman pulled her to her feet to remove her jeans. 
As she pushed her back down onto the bed, Ryan looked up at her and Jamie saw another brief flash of her youthful persona. She looked so fragile and guileless that the blonde’s heart just melted and she was unable to resist cradling Ryan’s head to her chest. She was dismayed to feel the heat radiating from her back as she stroked the smooth surface, but she decided to withhold comment for the time being. Ryan gave in to the hug and leaned limply against her. They remained in that position for a long while as Jamie continued to stroke the overly warm body and run her fingers through lank hair. Finally she pulled away as she asked, "Bathroom?"
A small nod was her answer, and Jamie lifted her as best she could and guided her into the bath. "I’m gonna go get you something to eat. Will you be okay?"
A smirk and a nod were all she got, but it was enough. Before Jamie left the room, she turned down the covers and tossed the soiled clothes into the hamper. Five minutes later she was back, carrying a tray laden with a big mug of tea with honey, a bowl of tapioca pudding, and half a dozen vanilla wafers. Ryan took one look at her little snack and broke into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as Jamie put the tray down and climbed up on the bed next to her. Again, Ryan fought the comfort but Jamie held firm and would not allow her partner's reticence to dissuade her. 
She grasped her firmly and rocked her slowly back and forth, finally murmuring, "You feel sick, don’t you, Baby?" Through her sobs Ryan nodded weakly. "It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise." After a while, Ryan quieted down and Jamie brought the tray over.
"How did you know?" her weak little five-year-old voice asked.
"I called your father and asked him what you liked to eat when you were sick," she explained, hoping that wouldn’t set her off again. Ryan seemed pleased that Jamie had gone out of her way to figure out a way to comfort her, and she gave her a very grateful, completely endearing smile. 
"How did you know I was sick?"
"Well," she began, knowing she had to tread carefully. "You just looked a little sick. You didn’t have any appetite and your color was bad. I could just tell," she explained, leaving out the grouchy parts.
Ryan nodded, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. She dug into the tapioca and closed her eyes in pleasure. "This is so good," she enthused. "Just like my Mama…" she started to explain, but was cut off by her own sobs as she collapsed once more. 
As Jamie pulled the tray away, she was struck with the answer to her lover’s plight. She must need to be comforted just like her mother comforted her. Obviously that’s the issue! That must be why the soup has to be a certain way, and why she likes tapioca and butterscotch. I’ve never seen her eat either of those things when she’s healthy. Her mother must have made them especially for her when she was ill. It must make her miss her terribly, and being sick on top of it makes it worse. 
Ryan cried for a long time, and Jamie could feel her fever rising precipitously. The poor woman was burning up by the time she quieted down, so Jamie went into the bath and came back with a cool cloth that she used to wash her face and neck. Ryan’s skin was blotchy and flushed, and Jamie noticed a little rash on her chest and sides. God, don’t tell me she’s got the measles!
She got her into a sitting position and managed to get the cooled tea down her to replenish some of her fluids. "Can you eat a little more tapioca to have something in your tummy?" she asked gently. Ryan looked doubtful but she allowed Jamie to push a few spoonfuls into her mouth. "Did you eat lunch today?"
Pursed lips and a short shake of the head confirmed her suspicions. "Try to take a few more bites, Baby. You need some calories to help you fight this."
"What’s wrong with me?" she wailed plaintively.
"I think you might have the flu," Jamie ventured. "It’s going around school, you know."
Ryan shot up and stared at her in terror. "I don’t have the flu! I don’t! I just have a cold or some little virus! I’ll be fine by tomorrow!"
"Okay, Baby," she soothed her. "I’m sure you’re right. Let’s just get you all better by tomorrow, okay?"
Ryan looked at her very suspiciously but allowed herself to be lowered to the bed. Jamie said, "I’m going downstairs to get you some ice chips to suck on to help keep you cool. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"
A sad little nod combined with a pouty lower lip responded to her query. 
As soon as she got downstairs, she hit ‘redial’ on the phone. "Martin," she said softly, in case Ryan got up and eavesdropped, "she’s covered with a red, splotchy rash. Has she had measles?"
"Don’t worry about the rash, Jamie. She always gets that from fever. Make a little paste of baking soda and water and put that on so she doesn’t scratch it."
"Okay, I can do that. I think she might have the flu, Martin. Should I take her to the doctor?"
"She should be fine, Jamie. She’ll run a fever and probably develop a bad cough, but you shouldn’t worry unless her fever gets too high. If it goes over 103, call me and I’ll come help you get her to the doctor, okay? Just make sure she drinks fluids and keep her in bed. I know that’s easier said than done, but if she really has the flu, she won’t want to get up."
"Will do, Martin. Will you let everyone know that there’s a good chance she won’t be able to play in Wednesday’s game?"
"Ahh, I forgot that her first game is Wednesday! The poor little thing will be heartbroken if she can’t be there."
"That’s for sure," she agreed. "It’s gonna get ugly." She shivered in anticipation of the fight that Ryan would put up, but she knew that she would have to stand up to the determined woman for her own good. "Thanks for everything, Martin. It’s really reassuring to be able to call you and get advice."
"Thank you, Jamie. If not for you, I’d be in charge!" he laughed, a little too giddily for Jamie’s taste.

A few minutes later Jamie entered the sick room with a big glass of ice chips covered with a small bit of cherry syrup. She also carried a paste of baking soda and water that Ryan eyed suspiciously. "You have a little rash on your chest," she reassured her. "No big deal. Lots of people get a little heat rash from fever."
The rash was painfully evident since Ryan was stark naked on top of the covers. Her skin glowed with a light sheen of perspiration as her body tried in vain to cool itself. Jamie sat down on the bed and scooped some of the paste onto her fingers, gently dabbing it onto Ryan’s blotchy skin, covering all of the spots in a few minutes. Next she went into the bath to fetch her thermometer and coerced her lover into keeping it under her tongue for the required time. She gazed at Ryan and brushed the hair from her forehead while she waited for the instrument to register. Ryan’s face was a mask of caution and doubt. There was no trace of the child that Jamie had spotted earlier, and she knew this was not a good sign. I hope she doesn’t shut me out again. I know this will be easier for her if she’s not spending her energies fighting me. 
As she removed the thermometer she stepped into the bath to read it. Damn! 102 already. Definitely the flu.
When she went back out with another cool cloth Ryan gazed at her with half closed eyes. "Well?" she asked calmly.
"It’s a little high," Jamie replied as she placed the cool cloth on her forehead. "I want you to take some aspirin to help bring it down. Can you take aspirin?"
"I guess so," she said with a hint of hesitation. "But I don’t think I’ve had one in years. I take ibuprofen for cramps, but that’s about it."
"Ibuprofen works for fever too. Since you know you tolerate that, let’s stick with it, okay?"
"No, I really don’t want to, Jamie. Fever can help the body fight off infection. Let’s wait and see what happens, okay? Maybe I can burn this out by tomorrow," she said with a remarkable display of optimism.
Against her better judgment, Jamie agreed to the plan, returning to the bath to refresh the cool cloth. She propped Ryan up across her lap and began making long swipes down the overheated body with the cloth, removing the sheen that continued to form.
After a while Ryan began to chill, and within seconds she was shivering from head to toe. Jamie went to her room and pulled out some favorite sweats and helped her struggle into them, but even with the sweats and the light blanket she still shivered so hard that her teeth chattered. She looked up at Jamie with a mixture of fear and confusion in her baby blues. "It’s okay, Baby. This is perfectly natural when you have a fever. Your body is just trying to regulate itself, but it’s working a little too hard. I’ll get you another blanket."
She tucked her in tightly, but still she shivered. After a few minutes Jamie got into bed with her and wrapped her tightly in her arms. "Don’t," Ryan complained weakly as she tried to struggle out of the embrace. "I don’t want you to get this."
"Honey, if I’m going to get this I’ve already been exposed. Don’t worry about that."
"I d…d...d…do worry about that," she chattered. "I c...c...c...c...can’t relax if I’m w… w... worried about you."
"Ryan, I’m not going to leave you. You’re sick and you need to be taken care of, even if you don’t think so. Please don’t fight me like this."
"I need to get some r...r...rest, Jamie. I can’t sleep with you hovering over me like th...this."
With a sigh, Jamie climbed out of bed. "Fine," she finally relented. "I’m too tired to argue with you tonight. I’ll sleep in your room until you want some company. Promise you’ll call me if you need anything?"
"Yes, I promise," she said meekly.
Jamie leaned over to kiss her, but Ryan quickly dropped her chin so that only the crown of her head was available. She took what was offered and kissed her head, softly smoothing her hair from her chilled face. "I love you, Ryan."
"I love you too, Jamie. I’m sorry I’m such a jerk," she added with a face full of chagrin.
"You’ve never been a jerk in your life, Sweetheart. You’re just sick and out of sorts. But you’ll be better soon. I promise."
After washing her hands and face carefully, Jamie brushed her teeth and went into Ryan’s room. She left both bathroom doors open so she could hear her and turned off the overhead lights, then shucked her clothes and fell into bed. Try as she might, however, she could not will her mind to relax. Every sound from their room caused her to jerk to attention until finally she was certain that a noise was emanating from the room. Getting up to investigate, she stuck her head in the bedroom and could see that Ryan was curled up in a tight little ball and was crying softly. I don’t care if she wants me here or not. I’m not leaving her again!
She quietly slid into bed behind her lover. "What are you doing here?" Ryan asked with a sad little voice.
"I’m staying with you, Ryan. I can’t sleep without you," she said, stretching the truth only slightly.
"Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick?" she asked with another intense pout.
Aha! So if I agree to be apart from her she takes that as rejection, even though she insisted upon it. I’m gonna crack this code, no matter how long it takes! she vowed. "Honey, I don’t care if you have the Ebola virus! I’m sticking with you. If I get sick, we’ll stay in bed and shiver together!"
Ryan’s body relaxed noticeably as she shuffled her butt over to nestle into her lover’s lap. As Jamie wrapped her arms around her shivering body she croaked out, "My throat hurts."
"I know, Honey, but if you won’t take any pain reliever there’s not much we can do. Just try to relax now. Come on, Baby, just relax." She continued to murmur into her ear, stroking her belly softly, and eventually Ryan quieted down and fell into a fitful slumber.

Part Four
Jamie ran a hand through her hair and tried to decide what to do first. God, I’m slow when I’m working on three hours of sleep. She had stuck to her guns and stayed right by Ryan’s side through the dreadful night. Chills followed sweats with startling frequency. No sooner did she have her cooled down than she got chilled. And no sooner did she get warm than she broke into a drenching sweat. She changed the sheets twice during the night and changed Ryan’s clothes three times. So much activity had taken place that the room looked like it had been looted, with sheets and clothes lying everywhere. 
Thinking back on the night, she had to admit that during the quiet times she felt more intimately bonded with her partner than ever before. She felt like she had been allowed to see much deeper into her psyche and she was very grateful that she had been given the chance to do so. She’s so simple, and yet so complex. Such a scared little girl and supremely confident woman. I don’t think I’ll ever learn everything about her, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never get bored.
She made a pot of tea with honey and lemon, and some toast, and poured a large glass of orange juice for her patient. She also crushed some more ice to help cool her body.
Ryan was struggling to get out of bed when she returned. "You’d better be going to the bathroom," Jamie gently chided her.
"I was gonna take a shower," she sheepishly admitted. "I stink," she added as she made a face as she sniffed herself.
Jamie reluctantly agreed to Ryan’s request. "Are you sure you feel up to this?" she asked for the third time.
"Honey, I can’t stand to feel this grungy. It makes me feel worse to smell bad and be all sticky."
"Okay, I’ll help you, but you have to promise to let me know if you feel dizzy or weak."
"I will. Are you going to get in with me?"
"Yeah, I think I’d better."
"Good. You don’t smell so hot either," she said with a crooked grin.
That comment got her a massive hug and a matching smile. "That’s the first smile I’ve seen on your sweet little face since yesterday."
"I’ll have to insult you more often," Ryan promised with a smirk.
They successfully moved into the bathroom, and Jamie was able to get Ryan’s clothes off without much difficulty. She turned on the shower to let it warm up as she quickly stripped off her own clothes. "Whew! I see what you mean," she admitted as she got a whiff of herself. "I was in a cold sweat most of the night worrying about you, Baby."
Ryan looked terribly sad as she leaned against the wall. "I’m really sorry to put you through this, Jamie. I know it’s probably harder for you than it is for me."
"Nonsense, Ryan. I’m just worried. You have a bad fever, a sore throat, muscle aches…"
"Don’t forget headache and weakness," she reminded her.
"I didn’t know you had a headache too," she empathized.
"It’s not the worst I’ve ever had, since I’ve had a skull fracture, but it’s in the top three," she conceded.
"I feel so sorry for you. I know how you hate to be sick, and to be this sick must just be horrible for you." She wrapped her arms around Ryan’s overheated torso and gave her a gentle hug. "Now let’s get all clean and maybe you’ll feel a little better."
Luckily, Ryan was having a hot spell and the lukewarm water felt good on her hot skin. Jamie got her seated on the tiled bench in the corner of the tub and set about lovingly washing her hair and body. She quickly washed herself, knowing that Ryan should not remain upright any longer than absolutely necessary, then grabbed a towel and dried her partner briskly while she remained seated on the bench. "You don’t want your hair dried, do you?"
"No. Could you just comb it and tie it back in a braid?"
"Sure, Baby. I’ll do that once I get you back in bed." A clean T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms had Ryan looking relatively normal. She sat on the loveseat and watched patiently as Jamie stripped the bed again. After a quick trip to the other bedroom to retrieve dry pillows Jamie guided her lover back to bed. In order to comb and braid her hair she got into bed and scooted behind Ryan, then eased the wide toothed comb through her dark hair, being especially careful not to pull on any tangles. Ryan’s head lolled limply as Jamie patiently worked on her tresses. "Does this feel good, Baby?" she whispered into her nearby ear.
"It feels good to know you care so much for me," she replied, expertly avoiding the question.
"But other than that…?"
"Well, my scalp hurts and my head aches. My skin is so sensitive that it hurts to even have clothes on; so as much as I generally like to lay on you, I’ve gotta admit that it doesn’t feel so good today."
"Is there any part of you that doesn’t hurt?" she asked.
"Um…do fingernails count?" Ryan queried, just trying to understand the scope of the question.
"Not really, Babe. I don’t think they have nerves." As soon as the braid was secure she carefully extricated herself from behind her lover, noticing that Ryan was very warm again. Bringing another cool cloth from the bath, she repeatedly wiped her face and neck.
"That feels good," Ryan said as she smiled up at her weakly.
"Really? Doesn’t your face hurt?"
"Yeah, it hurts too, but the rubbing of the cloth feels so comforting that I hardly notice it," she confided with another childlike smile.
Jamie leaned over and tenderly brushed her lips against her lover’s forehead. She pulled back just a little bit and looked deeply into Ryan’s eyes. "I love you so much. I feel honored to be able to care for you and provide you with a little comfort."
"Thanks," she whispered, a little blush rising on her face. Jamie continued to wipe her face as Ryan struggled to keep her eyes open. 
"You need to drink some of those fluids. Before those eyes close again, I want either that tea or that juice in your little tummy."
" ‘Kay," Ryan said as she somewhat happily gulped down the tea and munched on her cold toast. "This is good," she said with a sweet smile.
"I’m glad you like it, my little teddy bear," Jamie said as she tickled her sides.
"Oh-oh," she said with alarm. "Getting cold again."
Jamie hopped to it and got a fleece top for her and quickly tucked her in. "Drink some tea. It’ll help warm you."
"Should I go to the doctor?" Ryan finally got out through her chattering.
"I don’t think you have to. We’ll just watch your fever to make sure it doesn’t get too high."
"But what do I have? I’ve never felt like this before. My throat is on fire, and all of my muscles ache. I never have a fever. Maybe I’ve got some strange virus."
"I think you have the flu, Ryan."
"No! It’s just a cold!"
"Honey, the symptoms you have indicate the flu. There’s nothing we can do about that now. So just get over arguing about this and try to get better as soon as possible!"
"But I have to practice tomorrow, and I have to play on Wednesday," she cried, getting more and more upset.
"Look, Ryan. Nobody knows more than I do how hard you’ve worked to be on this team. I think I even have a pretty good idea of how much this means to you. But you are not going to play if you’re ill. That’s final!"
She marched from the room, hoping that she'd made an impression with her uncharacteristic diatribe. After a few minutes in the bathroom she poked her head out to see her partner sitting up in bed with a thoughtful look on her face. "It’s too early to make any predictions about this, Jamie. I’ll stay in bed today," Ryan said, as though she'd made a big concession. "If I rest up today, I should feel well enough to play tomorrow." She gazed up at Jamie and asked, "I can play if I don’t have a fever or a sore throat, right?"
Jamie assumed that her fever was making her delusional, but she wisely didn’t contradict her. "Of course. You rest up and we’ll see how you feel."
After Ryan struggled to get the juice down she closed her eyes and snuggled down into the sheets, sound asleep before Jamie could get to the door.

Jamie prepared some tarragon walnut chicken salad for lunch, normally one of Ryan’s favorites. When she went upstairs for her half-hourly check she noticed some small movement under the covers. Sitting gently on the side of the bed she began to run her fingers across Ryan’s forehead, shaking her head as she felt the heat radiating up. With a reaction time slower than Jamie had ever seen, Ryan blinked her eyes open and spent a moment trying to get them to focus. Jamie could almost see her brain try to work, but as she realized where she was, her eyes filled with pain.
"I’ve never felt this bad in my life," she croaked out. "I’ve got to get something to drink, even though I dread swallowing. Can I have something with ice?"
"Sure. Name it."
"Lemonade?"
"Be right back."
When Jamie returned, Ryan had managed to sit up enough to drink, but she didn’t look happy about it. Hating to be cruel, but knowing that it was important, Jamie insisted that they take her temperature again. Ryan really didn’t want to wait the five minutes required, but Jamie reminded her that the reading would be disturbed by the cool liquid. 
"Good news," Jamie said brightly, trying to put a positive spin on the matter. "Your temperature hasn’t gone up."
"Wow, at this rate I’ll be well by Christmas," Ryan groused. She grasped the offered cup and slowly gulped down the entire contents, wincing noticeably with each swallow.
She sighed deeply, looked up at Jamie with sad resignation, and lay back down. "I’m tired again," she said softly, sinking into sleep so quickly that Jamie just stood in place and watched her, shaking her head in wonder.

Martin suggested he come over and bring dinner, but it was clear that Ryan wasn’t up to eating, and Jamie felt less than social herself, so she declined the thoughtful offer. "When’s your next day off, Martin?" she asked.
"Wednesday, Darlin’. If herself is not well by then, Maeve and I will come and bring dinner, all right?"
"It’s a deal. Let’s hope this is over by then, Martin."

On Monday morning Jamie had to shake Ryan for a good minute before she got a response from her. "It’s time for me to go to practice, Love. Will you be all right if I leave you?"
"Huh? What is today?" Ryan’s eyes were foggy and unfocused, and Jamie wondered if she should skip practice to stay home with her.
After another moment or two, Ryan came back to her normal self and accepted Jamie’s help to go to the bathroom. When she emerged she looked a little better, and obediently accepted a mug of tea. "I’ll be okay. I just need to rest."
Reasoning that the logic was sound, Jamie said, "I’ve got my phone, and I’ll keep it on all day. Will you promise to call me if you feel any worse?"
"I will. Now get ready!"
She looked at Ryan thoughtfully for a minute as she revealed, "There’s a part of me that’s afraid to go for fear of exposing anyone else to this bug if I’ve got it."
Ryan’s lower lip began to tremble as she realized that she might unwittingly make her lover as sick as she was. "I don’t want you to get this," she sobbed. "I can’t bear the thought of you being this sick."
"Now you know how I feel," Jamie said as she wrapped her in her arms again. "It breaks my heart to see how bad you feel. Let’s both work together to get you well as quickly as possible, okay? Will you do that for me?"
"I’ll try," Ryan said with her little grouchy bear look.
Before she left, Jamie made a big pot of tea and put it, and a big bowl of tapioca, on a tray that she placed by the bedside. She pulled the phone up close to Ryan and dialed her own cell phone. "If you need me, all you have to do is hit the redial button. Can you do that?"
"Yeah, Jamie, I can hit a button," she answered with a smirk.
"I’ll do my best to get home as early as possible, but I want you to remember to call Maeve if you’re any worse, okay?"
"Okay, I promise I’ll call if I need her."
Jamie closed her eyes as she pulled her partner’s fevered body close for a tender hug. "I’d do anything to make you better. It just kills me to see you this way."
"I know it does, Honey. But I’ll be better soon. You can’t keep an O’Flaherty down for long."

Jamie had less than a third of her mind on her studies. Her morning classes dragged on, and by noon she realized that sitting in the chair didn’t really count as attending the class. Thus relieved of her afternoon duties, she hopped on her bike and rode to the grocery store to stock up on sickroom supplies. 
When she arrived home, she tiptoed up to the bedroom to find Ryan still asleep. Walking over to the bed she stood quietly and watched her sleep for a few minutes, judging from the state of her sleep-creased face that she had been out for the entire morning. Grabbing the pile of soiled sheets, she went back downstairs and tossed one of the sets of sheets in the washer as she began to prepare lunch. Maria Los had arrived by this time, and she insisted that Jamie allow her to do the laundry. Every half-hour the blonde tiptoed into the bedroom and checked on her lover, content to let her sleep as much as possible. By one p.m. she began to grow concerned, since she thought it likely that Ryan had not gone to the bathroom yet. If she’s not urinating, she must be getting dehydrated. I’m going to have to force more fluids into her. 
The rest of the day consisted of nothing more than stark worry from Jamie, and near comatose sleep from Ryan. The sum total of Ryan’s caloric intake was one half of a grape jelly and butter sandwich, one piece of toast, and a few bites of tapioca, falling several thousand calories short of her norm.
She slept most of the day and all of the night, not noticing the red-rimmed green eyes that gazed at her anxiously, nor the cool hand that felt her forehead at least 15 times during the long, dark night.

On Tuesday afternoon Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, speaking quietly to Coach Placer, her anxious lover’s head looming over her shoulder. "Exactly what did he say?" Ryan quizzed after Jamie got off the phone.
"He said that if you can’t practice today, he won’t clear you to play tomorrow," Jamie said, hating to deliver the news but knowing that Ryan would just have to deal with the disappointment.
"I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to practice," Ryan moaned pathetically. "I mean, I think I’ll be fine by tomorrow," she said, seemingly serious. "I’m just a little slow today."
"Yeah. Slow. That about sums it up," Jamie agreed, trying to avoid a fight.
"Shit." Ryan tossed the covers aside and tried to get to her feet. 
"What are you doing?" Jamie asked, her brow arched severely.
"I have to go, Jamie. You’re the one who talked to him. If I don’t go today, I can’t play tomorrow."
For some reason this all seemed perfectly logical to her, but Jamie was determined to shine the light of reason on her delusions. "You aren’t going anywhere, Ryan. Not today, and not tomorrow. No arguments."
She sat up a little straighter and looked at Jamie with her eyes burning brightly. "You aren’t my mother, and you can’t stop me from getting up. I have to show up for my team."
"I know I’m not your mother. I’m not trying to be your mother. But you are too ill to even think about getting up."
"I cannot tolerate being told what to do!" she yelled, but she immediately grabbed her throat with both hands as she grimaced in pain.
"Ryan, please listen to reason." 
But Ryan was in no mood for reason. She started to struggle with the covers but Jamie merely rested her hand upon her chest, effectively preventing her from getting up. Ryan tried three times, but each time the gentle hand completely halted her progress. She finally fell to the bed and uttered a low frustrated cry. "I have to go," she cried. "The team needs me, Jamie. Please let me get up!"
"Ryan, I’m holding you down with about three pounds of pressure. How do you think you can play volleyball?"
"I can, really I can," she begged. "It’s just mind over matter."
"Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I want you to focus every bit of your energy on getting out of bed and showing me that you can play. Do you agree that you have to be able to jump to play?"
"Yes," she said slowly.
"Fine. I want you to get up and jump as high as you can. If you can jump at your normal height, I’ll let you go. I'll even drive you."
Ryan nodded her head quickly and pursed her lips in concentration. She pushed the covers away and sat up for a few moments, breathing deeply to gather her strength. When she was ready she tossed her legs off the bed but had to spend another few minutes before she could get them all the way to the floor. She was using every bit of her will to convince her partner that she was well, but she knew it had not been a very convincing performance so far. "I need to get my sea legs," she explained. "It’s hard being in bed all day. I’d probably feel better if I had been at school."
"You’re probably right, Honey," Jamie agreed placidly. "I should have let you go to school."
Ryan nodded briefly at this concession and tried to get to her feet. Jamie even aided her attempt by holding her arm to steady her. She swayed dangerously as Jamie considered whether she would be able to hold her up if she fell. Ryan took a very deep breath and swallowed with a grimace of pain as she said, "Okay, I’m ready."
It was all the smaller woman could do not to smile at the determination of her sick lover, but she knew that this was not the time for humor. Ryan leaned over a tiny bit and rested her hands on her thighs. Taking another deep breath she started to go into a crouch to make her attempt, but the slight bend turned into a slow collapse as every normally dependable muscle and tendon failed her miserably.
Jamie sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around the thoroughly defeated woman. "I know this is horrible for you, Honey. I know how hard you’ve worked to be able to play with your team. But your body is just not going to cooperate for a while. Now let’s try to get you well as quickly as we can, okay?"
Ryan was unable or unwilling to talk at this point. She just nodded her head slightly and looked up at Jamie. "Can you help me up?" she asked with a thin voice.
"Sure, baby," she said as she stood and extended her hands. Unfortunately, Ryan’s grasp was weak and she seemed unable to use any of the strength in her legs. After grunting with the unsuccessful effort, Jamie finally had to release her hands. She rubbed her now sore back and said, "I don’t think I can do it, Honey. Can you help any more?"
"Noooo," she cried, sobbing pathetically. Jamie got back on the floor with her and rocked her in her arms until she quieted down.
"We’ll just stay here until you have some more strength, okay?" She got up and grabbed the pillows and the blankets to cover the now shivering body. Ryan’s limp form was practically covering hers and she was uncomfortable under the weight, but she stoically withstood the discomfort for her partner’s sake. 
Amazingly, they both fell asleep, only to be startled awake by Mia’s trudging up the stairs. "Mia," Jamie called out as she passed the room.
"Yeah?" she asked as she stuck her head in. Placing her hands on her hips she laughed and said, "I told you that you two would eventually knock yourselves out of bed. You need some of those hospital rails."
"Ryan’s really sick," Jamie informed her. "She fell down and I can’t get her up by myself. Can you help me?"
Mia was immediately in the room and squatting down. "Jesus! You told me that she had been sick when I was at my parents this weekend, but I didn’t think it was this serious! What’s wrong, Ryan?" she asked as she lightly touched her face.
"Flu," she muttered, but even that seemed to deplete her energy.
"My God, how could you get this sick this fast?" she asked incredulously.
Ryan summoned all of her strength and replied, "The bigger they are the harder they fall."
"Hey, you still have your sense of humor," she said fondly as she squeezed her shoulder. "Come on, James, don’t let the poor thing lie on the floor all day." Mia got into a crouch and motioned for Jamie to do the same. They each grabbed an arm and draped it around their shoulders, then they linked arms behind Ryan’s waist. "One…two…three," Mia called, and miraculously Ryan was pulled to her feet.
"As long as she’s up, let’s help her into the bathroom," Jamie suggested.
"Cool, do I get to help you give her a bath?" Mia asked with a waggling eyebrow, preferring to see Ryan at her best, but not being terribly picky.
"No. That’s a little energetic at this point. I think I’ll give her a sponge bath later, since I don’t want her to fall in the tub. Will you help me then?"
"Absolutely," Mia replied. "Whatever you need, Hon."
Turning to her lover Jamie asked, "Did you pee while I was at class this morning?"
"Huh? What is today?" she asked groggily as Jamie pulled down her pants and sat her on the toilet.
Mia and Jamie exchanged worried glances as Ryan looked like she didn’t know what was expected of her. "Ryan, can you pee for me?"
"For you?" she asked hazily.
"Can you pee?" she asked again, trying to be clearer.
"Yeah, I can pee," she said, but she did no such thing.
"Ryan, are you going to pee?"
"Why? I don’t have to," she said from her fog.
Her attendants shot another set of worried glances at each other but they eventually lifted her, then Jamie pulled her sweats up again. They got her back to the bed with some difficulty, but as soon as she got there she started to struggle with her clothes. "She gets hot and strips," Jamie said.
"Just the opposite will happen to me," Mia responded brightly as she waited for the show to begin.
"OUT!" Jamie ordered as she pushed her towards the door. When she got there she gave her friend a grateful hug. "I don’t know what we would have done without you, Honey. Thanks for helping."
"My pleasure," she replied. "Let’s work out our schedules so that one of us is here for her."
"Thanks, Mia," she said as she hugged her tightly. "It’s nice to know you care for her too."
"I really do, James. Remember, I’m always available for sponge baths."
When Jamie turned back to the bed, Ryan had almost pulled her shirt over her head but she was too weak to get it off. The shirt was tightly stretched around her head, with her arms thrashing about in vain. The thought flashed through Jamie’s mind that Ryan might strangle herself if she wasn’t closely supervised, and she vowed to keep an even closer eye on her.

After synchronizing their schedules, Mia found herself watching over Ryan on Wednesday afternoon. Jamie made her promise not to give Ryan a sponge bath while she was sleeping, and she had behaved admirably, sitting on the love seat most of the afternoon, diligently studying.
The ringing doorbell caught her attention, and she raced down the stairs to answer. A very tall, very blonde, very attractive woman nearly filled the doorframe vertically, leaving massive amounts of room horizontally. "Hi," she said, her clear soprano voice tinged with a little bit of surprise. "Is Ryan up to a visitor?"
"She won’t wake up, but if you want to take a look, be my guest. I’m Mia, Ryan’s roommate," she said, extending a hand.
"Hi, Mia," the blonde beauty replied. "I’m Jordan Ericsson. I’m on the volleyball team with Ryan."
Giving the lanky woman a pointed glance, Mia assured her, "I might have guessed that," she said with a smile, looking at the Cal warm-ups with the small script "Jordan" over her breast. "Come on in. You can help me watch her sleep."
They went upstairs together and sat down on the love seat to watch Ryan for a few minutes. "Wow," Jordan said, obviously stunned at the deterioration in her friend’s health in just a few days. "Does she just lie here all day?"
"Yep. We have to watch her ‘cause she gets disoriented when she gets hot and tries to undress. Jamie’s afraid that she’ll strangle herself."
"Well," Jordan said, "I guess that answers the question of whether she’ll be able to make our road trip this weekend. I didn’t realize how bad off she was."
"It’s pretty bad," Mia agreed. "She hasn’t eaten enough for a fly. It’s gonna take her a while to get back to normal."
"It’s hard to tell with her all covered up like that," Jordan said. "She looks pretty normal, except for her color. She’s normally so tan and healthy looking."
"I don’t know where that tan went, but it’s gone," Mia agreed, shaking her head at her friend’s pallor.
"Damn!" Jordan got to her feet and stood by the bed, looking at her closely. "Let her know I came by, okay?" She brushed her hand across Ryan’s forehead, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "We’ll miss you, Slugger," she whispered as she patted her cheek fondly.

When Jamie got home from school, she decided that she was going to get some calories into Ryan or die trying. She didn’t have much in the house, so she warmed up some soup from a can, thinking that the vegetable soup would be gentle on her partner’s stomach. It took a while, but she finally got Ryan awake and sitting up, and spoon-fed her against her mumbled wishes.
She got down the entire bowl, rather pleased with herself when Ryan said, "That must have woken my system up. I need to use the bathroom."
"Let me help you get up," Jamie offered as she wrapped an arm around her waist. She got Ryan to her feet and held on to her until she got her sea legs, then maneuvered her into the bath and helped her over to the toilet and slid her sweats down as Ryan flopped down hard on the seat. 
She looked up at Jamie determination in her eyes. "I can handle it, Babe."
"Are you sure? This really doesn’t bother me, you know. I’ve wrestled you in here a lot in the last few days."
Ryan smiled fondly at her and said, "You’ve been a real trooper. But I know you prefer to keep this kinda thing private, so as long as I feel competent to go alone, I’d prefer that."
Ruffling her hair, Jamie kissed her cheek and waited outside the bath, feeling hopeful that Ryan trusted herself to be alone for a few minutes. Maybe that means she’s starting to get some strength back, she hoped.

Her hopes were dashed when Ryan emerged to move shakily towards the bed, hitting the mattress hard and falling asleep in moments. Regarding her for a few minutes, Jamie decided that she had to have a nap, so she went into Ryan’s room to try and catch a few winks before Martin and Maeve came over for dinner.
She had been averaging about six very poor hours of sleep per night, and she knew that she looked nearly as bad as Ryan. Falling asleep in moments, she was almost immediately awakened by some phone solicitor trying to get her to switch her long distance service. Speaking to the poor man in a much harsher tone than he deserved, she lay awake for a few long minutes, too tired and grouchy to relax enough to sleep—which turned out to be fortuitous, because she was awake enough to hear the strangled sounds coming from the bedroom.
She flew out of bed so fast that she tripped on the sheets, sliding into the room just as Ryan struggled to sit up. She was only off the mattress a few inches when she closed her eyes and violently retched all over herself and the bedclothes, making the most pathetic noises that Jamie had ever heard come from a human being as she vomited again and again. The smell and the sounds almost made Jamie join her in emptying her stomach, but she fought her own churning guts to comfort her partner as best she could. Climbing onto the bed, she rubbed her back while she spoke to her in a low soothing tone, trying to will her poor stomach to settle down. After a few minutes Ryan’s stomach was completely empty, but she couldn’t stop retching. Powerful spasms rocked her whole body as she shook with a frightening intensity. After an interminable time she finally stopped and fell back limply against the mattress, her body covered in sweat, unable to do anything more than issue a heart-rending groan.
"My poor, poor baby," Jamie murmured as she gently stroked her pale, clammy face. "Just rest a few minutes, and then I’ll get you cleaned up."
The smells in the room were quickly turning Jamie’s stomach, so she decided that she needed to get busy. Pulling away from Ryan’s wet body she went to the door and called for Mia, enormously pleased when her roommate emerged from her room. "Ryan’s sick to her stomach. It’s really gross, but I need to change the sheets and her clothes. Do you mind?"
"No prob," Mia said immediately, sliding past Jamie to approach Ryan’s side. "Poor sick little girl," she crooned, pulling the soiled top sheet from her body. While Mia worked on the sheet, Jamie carefully lifted the wet, soiled T-shirt from Ryan’s shaking body and then slipped her sweatpants off. The bottom sheet wasn’t soiled, but it was wet from perspiration. The pair worked together, loosening the left side of the sheet and immediately replacing it with a clean bottom sheet, then carefully rolling Ryan over until she lay on top of the fresh fabric. Finishing the bed in the same fashion, they covered Ryan’s bare body with the clean sheet and a heavy blanket. 
Ryan was awake during this entire process, but she once again fell into a state of wary watchfulness, saying nothing, seemingly drawing all of her energies inward. It worried Jamie to have so little interaction with her, but she reasoned that Ryan needed all of her strength just to fight the virus and simply had nothing left to share. 
While the dark woman shivered, Mia whispered to Jamie, "I know she’d feel better if she was nice and clean. Would it be insane to try to get her into the shower?"
"Yeah, I think it would be," Jamie mused, "even though I agree with you. Maybe that sponge bath, huh?"
"It won’t be as good as a real shower, but she’s really ripe, Hon. Smelling bad always makes you feel worse."
It took a long while, and they had to allow for many shiver sessions, but they finally had Ryan as clean as they could get her. Mia astounded Jamie with her efficient professional demeanor, not making one crack about Ryan’s physical attributes. 
"I think I’ll get into bed with her and help warm her up," Jamie reasoned, since Ryan had been shivering nonstop for quite a few minutes. 
"Okay, Hon. Call me if you need anything else, okay?"
"You are an absolute lifesaver, Mia. We’d be lost without you."
"I love you both," Mia said, giving her old friend a kiss.

Jamie must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Maeve’s gentle hand was shaking her awake. "Jamie, dear," she said softly.
"Huh?" She managed to sit up, rubbing at her eyes as she fought to focus. Carefully disentangling herself from Ryan’s body, she got to her feet, swaying a little as she did so. When she focused on Maeve’s face, she noticed that the shock of her appearance was giving the older woman a tough time. Her hair was standing up in some places, plastered down in others. She was wearing one of Ryan’s wrinkled T-shirts and sweats that had both seen better days. Her color was dreadful, both from worry and lack of sleep, and her eyes were dull and red rimmed. She started to tell the sympathetic woman how glad she was to see her, but instead broke into a sob that threatened to take her to the floor.
Martin was obviously standing right outside the door because he entered and grabbed her around the waist and carefully led her to the love seat, squatting down in front of her. "What’s wrong, Sweetheart?" 
"She’s just not getting better," she sniffed. "I think we have to take her to the hospital." Maeve sat down on the other side and slid an arm around her waist. Jamie dropped her head onto her convenient shoulder and sobbed into the fabric of her cotton blouse. "I can’t keep her awake long enough to get her to drink. And her fever won’t go down a bit. I finally got some soup into her this afternoon, but it didn’t sit well on her stomach and she threw it all up." She shivered with the memory, recalling how absolutely powerless she'd felt when she had to watch that display. "She just seems to be getting worse, and I’m not strong enough to make her do what she doesn’t want to do," she said as her sobs grew stronger. Maeve ran a hand through her hair as she patted her back tenderly.
"It’ll be all right, Honey," she soothed. "Maybe she’d be better off in the hospital overnight."
"Let’s check her out before we make any decisions," Martin suggested. "I’d like to take her temperature again and then see how her stomach is."
"She’s naked, Martin. Let me get some clothes on her first. She’s a little shy around her Da." She gave him a fond smile and moved to her partner as Martin left the room, sighing heavily as she considered another round of struggles to get her dressed.
"Let me help you, Sweetheart," Maeve said. "As a matter of fact, let me get her dressed while you take a nice, hot shower. You obviously haven’t had a moment to yourself today."
"That bad?" Jamie asked, casting a quick glance into the mirror to confirm her suspicions.
"Let’s just say you’re not up to your usual high standards," Maeve said diplomatically.
"Are you sure you can get her dressed, Maeve? She’s a handful."
"I’m stronger than I look, Jamie. And regrettably, I’ve learned an awful lot about nursing in my 57 years."
Jamie just patted her arm in understanding, hoping fervently that she never had to learn the tough lessons that Maeve had been forced to face.
When Jamie emerged from the shower, she felt substantially better. She dressed carefully, trying to force some normalcy by at least looking decent. To her absolute shock, Ryan was sitting up, sipping a cup of tea with her father and aunt, and munching on a couple of cookies, or biscuits as the O’Flahertys referred to them.
When Ryan saw her she lifted her mug, saying, "All I needed was some of my aunt’s tea, Jamie."
"Do you feel better?"
"Yeah. Aunt Maeve got me awake and took my temperature. It’s down!" she said, with one of her first smiles of the week.
Jamie felt her forehead, detecting a noticeable lessening of the raging fever. "What was it, Maeve?" she asked.
"Just a little over 100," Maeve revealed. "I think our dear heart is on the road to recovery."
"I know it sounds odd, but I think I hit rock bottom this afternoon when I was throwing up. Maybe I’m on the upswing now, huh?" Ryan said with hope-filled eyes.
"God, I hope so," Jamie sighed, leaning over to kiss her partner’s cooling forehead.
"Jamie has been so awesomely wonderful," Ryan enthused, smiling at her partner. "She’s taken such good care of me. Against overwhelming odds," she added. "Lord knows I’m no fun to be around when I’m sick."
"No argument there, " Martin said, seeing no need to sugarcoat the truth.
"Oh, she’s not that bad," Jamie insisted, sitting by her partner on the bed. "Once we got over the disappointment from missing the volleyball game, she’s been very compliant."
"It helps that I was out of my rational mind," Ryan reminded her. "When you could hold me down with one finger on my chest I knew I was in trouble."
"The good news," Martin decided, "is that if the trend holds, you’ll have another 20 years before she’s this sick again."
"20 years!" Ryan cried. "I couldn’t handle this again that soon!"

Later that night, just before Jamie climbed into bed, she asked, "Do you need anything, Baby?"
Ryan looked a little shy as she batted her eyes and asked, "Would you hold me tight? I feel awfully little tonight."
Jamie smiled down at her, then kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans. She got into bed and propped herself up with some extra pillows. Ryan scooted up until her head rested on her lover’s chest, burrowing her head against Jamie’s breast until she was comfortably denned. 
"I feel so close to you, Ryan," Jamie whispered into her ear. "This just feels so intimate."
"I feel that way, too. I never would have guessed that being this sick would make me feel closer to you, but it does. Why do you think that is?"
"Maybe because you’re so weak and vulnerable. It’s hard to say, though. Maybe our roles are a little different when one of us is ill."
"Maybe that’s it. I guess I always feel most intimate when I’m really vulnerable. And I’ve rarely been this vulnerable physically," she admitted. "It just changes how I feel about myself."
"Tell me about that," Jamie encouraged.
Ryan sighed deeply as she furrowed her brow. "I’ve had more injuries than I can count, but they always made sense to me. Ya know what I mean?"
Jamie nodding, thinking she understood.
"But this…this isn’t from a risk I took, or some activity I participated in. This just hit me out of the blue, and it’s really made me feel vulnerable. I mean, if I can catch this virus, what’s to stop me from catching something else, ya know?"
"Well, I guess that’s possible, but you can also look at this as your number just being up. Everybody gets sick once in a while, Babe. This takes care of you for a very long time."
"I hope so, Jamie," she said softly "I think I have an image of myself that’s centered around my physical self. I am what I do. Being active and being outside make me feel connected both to the earth and to other people. Being cooped up in the house, unable to even go outside, just makes me feel odd and unsettled."
"That makes sense, " she said as she continued to stroke her back softly. "I guess I also think of you mostly as a vibrant, active, energetic soul. It’s hard to see you be so weak and frail."
"I know I’d hate to see you this sick," Ryan admitted. "You don’t think you’ll catch it do you?" 
"I don’t think so, Baby. There’s a two-day incubation period, so I probably would have gotten sick by Monday or Tuesday."
"Every time I’m lucid I say a prayer for you," she admitted shyly.
"And I’ve been praying for you," Jamie said as she tweaked her nose. "Let’s hope all of our prayers are answered."
Ryan wrapped her arms around her lover a little more tightly and within minutes was sound asleep. Jamie continued to stroke her face and back, remaining just where she was for another hour. It was uncomfortable to be pinned by Ryan’s weight, but she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone. She felt very warm and loving toward her partner and was terribly pleased that they had been able to have a little talk. As much as she missed their physical connection, it was the emotional connection that she needed to get through the day. Having those few minutes of intimate connection made her feel outrageously good and brightened her spirits enough to hope that the next day would bring better news.

As the limo pulled away from the stately, circular drive, Catherine spent a moment gazing at the house she had once loved, finding that the building no longer inspired warm feelings of home and family. With a sigh, she approached the front door, passing her neatly stacked bags in the entry. Well, this should be fun, she mused, noticing Jim’s car in the drive.
She had been gone nearly two and a half weeks, and she had not spoken to her husband in that entire time. She knew from Jamie that Jim knew that she had been the one to tell their daughter of his infidelities, and she knew that fact would make him very angry indeed, irrational as that reaction was.
No more than ten feet into the house, Jim descended on her, sneering evilly as he commented, "Look who’s back! Benedict Arnold has come home to gloat."
Sharing a saccharine laced smile with him, Catherine said, "One would certainly have to have a certain view of the world to feel like the wronged party in your situation. You break every vow that you ever made to me, and I’m supposed to apologize to you?"
"Yes, that’s right…you’re supposed to apologize to me! You couldn’t stand to have Jamie be close to me! You had to try and destroy what we shared!"
Blinking slowly, Catherine gave him a puzzled gaze. "I’m making this suggestion sincerely, Jim. I think you should have some tests run to determine if you have a brain tumor or some other medical condition that would cause this irrational thinking."
"I’m perfectly lucid!" he shouted, seeming everything but.
"Look, Jim," Catherine said. "If I had treated you like you deserved, Jamie and I would have spent the last 15 years in Italy. Now that would have been my attempt to destroy the closeness you and she once had."
"We’ll have it again before I’m through," he yelled.
"Not at the rate you’re going," she said with all of the empathy she could muster. "You’ll be lucky to get a Christmas card from her." With that, she strode up the stairs to her room, further saddened to see that he had removed all of his possessions from the space.

Ryan was alone in the house on Thursday, her roommates having decided that she was well enough to no longer require a babysitter. When the phone rang at ten o’clock she answered, "Miss me, Sweetness?"
"Why yes, I did, Ryan," Catherine laughed. "Is that what you plan on calling me henceforth?"
"Well, I could," Ryan said, pausing to cough harshly, "but Jamie called dibs." Another cough and Ryan said, "Welcome home, Catherine. We both missed you."
"Are you ill, Ryan? That cough sounds dreadful."
"Yeah. I’ve had the flu," she said. "This is my first day where I can sit up. I’m hoping to make it over to the love seat this afternoon if I can get a good nap in."
"Oh my word! You’re the picture of health!"
"The picture’s pretty grim at this point, Catherine. I’m a shadow of my former self. Luckily my beloved spouse has been a spectacular nurse. Goodness knows where I’d be without her."
"Is she home, Dear? I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed her."
"No, this is her long day. She’s not home until six or so."
"Who’s watching the patient?" Catherine asked. "It’s awfully soon to be on your own."
"I think I’m okay," Ryan decided. "Jamie can’t afford to miss any more school. She’s been here almost constantly all week."
"What will you have for lunch, Ryan? Surely you can’t cook for yourself."
"Jamie handled that, Catherine. I’m looking at a very nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she made for me. I just have to get up the strength to eat it."
"Nonsense. You need a hot meal, and I’m going to bring you one. I’ll be there by one, Ryan. Now go back to sleep."
Before Ryan could say another word, Catherine had hung up. Gee, I wonder where Jamie gets her determination? she wondered idly.

When Ryan woke at noon, she used the bathroom and then made her way downstairs. This was her first trip down the long staircase, and she was proud that she managed to travel the entire length without assistance. My, how your goals have shrunk. The long walk exhausted her, and she curled up on the small sofa for a little nap. 
When Catherine rang the bell Ryan nearly fell from the sofa, but she collected her wits and made her way to the door. As Catherine took her in, she nearly gasped at the vision that greeted her. Ryan had actually tried to clean up a little, putting on her new pajamas. Regrettably, she was down at least one full size, the pants now so loose that the drawstring was pulled tight to hold them up. Her color was still quite pasty, her eyes a little dull. She hadn’t yet taken a full shower, so her hair was lifeless and dirty, not a trace of bounce or shine in the dark locks.
"Dreadful, huh?" Ryan shrugged, indicating herself.
"No, no, of course not, Dear. You just look like you’ve been through a rough time." She offered a tentative hug, immediately noticing how frail Ryan seemed—almost as if her sturdy muscularity had been surgically removed. "We just have to concentrate on getting some food into you."
"Yeah. Jamie was complaining before I got sick. I lost a good ten pounds this week."
"Well, let’s start here," Catherine said, opening a container filled with a thick, hearty chicken soup with rice and vegetables. "Marta made this when I told her I was going to visit a sick friend," Catherine informed her. "She says that it’s an old family recipe, guaranteed to cure all of your ills."
Ryan’s mouth was watering by the time they had the soup ladled out. She dug in and treated Catherine to a full-blown demonstration of the patented O’Flaherty swoon. Catherine laughed in amusement as she watched Ryan make over the soup in the most delightful way. "I can see why Jamie likes to cook if you give her that type of reaction," she said with a smile.
"This is just awesome, Catherine," she said sincerely. "I love soup, and it seems to settle well on my stomach."
Except for a few coughing fits that were as painful to watch as they were to experience, lunch went very well. Catherine updated her on all of the news from Italy, but since Ryan had no activities of her own to speak of, she told all about Jamie’s golf and her classes. Catherine insisted on clearing the table and, to Ryan’s great surprise, she even washed the dishes. After Ryan directed her to the proper home of every item, she suggested they retire to the parlor.
"I really feel a lot better, Catherine," Ryan said with a happy grin. "A delicious lunch works wonders for me."
"I’m glad you enjoyed it, Ryan. I assume you’ve not been able to play in your volleyball games. Will you be able to rejoin your team soon?"
"I don’t know. We have away games tomorrow and Saturday, and then we’re home on Wednesday. That’s what I’m aiming for."
"Well, you let me know when you are going to play. I’ll be in your cheering section!"
"Thanks, Catherine. That means a lot to me."
"You and Jamie are my family, Ryan. You mean a lot to me." 
"Um…speaking of family, are things going all right with Jim? I don’t mean to pry but…"
"You’re not prying at all, Dear. No, things aren’t going well. We’re not speaking. It’s a very, very tense atmosphere at our home."
"I’m very sorry to hear that, Catherine. I know this is hard on you."
"In a way it is, but in another way it’s rather freeing," she said thoughtfully. "We haven’t been emotionally involved for a long while. This is just making that rift a little more defined."
"It’s going to be very hard for Jamie," Ryan said softly.
"I know that, Ryan. I don’t think we’re at the point of divorcing, yet, but it’s going to take a small miracle to keep us together."
"I hope you know that I’ll support you in any way that I can, Catherine."
Catherine gave her a wide smile as she said, "I know that, Ryan, and that means a great deal to me." Getting up to leave, she advised, "Now you take it easy the rest of the week. You can’t afford a relapse."
"I know," she agreed. "I think even Jamie is getting tired of taking care of me."
"I’m sure that isn’t true," Catherine chided as she patted her cheek. "She seems to thrive on a steady diet of you, Ryan." 

As soon as Catherine left, Ryan went back upstairs and fell asleep before she had time to let out a deep breath. She stayed in the same position that she fell in, sleeping through to the evening.
The volleyball team was meeting on campus at seven to catch a late flight to Colorado for the weekend games, but before she left Jordan decided to stop by to see how Ryan was doing. Jamie was just finishing with the dinner preparations and, as usual, she invited Jordan to join them. 
"Oh God, Jamie, you feed me so often I really feel like I’m taking advantage of you," she said, dropping her gym bag and letting her nose lead her into the kitchen. 
"Is that a yes?" Jamie teased as she basted the chicken she was roasting.
"Do you have enough?" Jordan asked hesitantly. "One chicken doesn’t hold up well to Ryan’s appetite."
"It does now," she said regretfully. "Her appetite is way below normal. She’ll eat the dressing I made, but she’ll hardly make a dent in the chicken. We really do have enough, Jordan, and I’d like for you to stay. Her mood has really been down, and I’d appreciate it if you could help me cheer her up."
"Where is she, anyway?"
"She’s in bed. She was out cold when I got home, and I haven’t heard a peep out of her since I got home an hour ago."
Just then Ryan came shuffling into the kitchen. She honestly looked like hell, and Jordan actually gasped a bit when she saw her. She wore a navy blue T-shirt that was probably too big at her normal weight, but now it hung loosely from her shoulders and accentuated her weight loss. The thin, black watch plaid, flannel pajama bottoms that she wore made a more forceful statement, however. Even though the drawstring waist was cinched as tight as it would go, the pants hung so low on her hips that Jamie knew they were less than a couple of inches from revealing her dark curls. Running a hand through her hair she yanked up her pants with the other hand and said flatly, "Hey, Jordan." She walked over to Jamie and gave her a brief hug before she flopped down heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. "What’s going on?" she asked, even though it was clear that she didn’t care.
Jordan still looked too shocked to speak, but she shook her head to force herself. "I’ve got something for you," she said as she scampered from the room to lug her gym bag into the kitchen. She produced two cards and a reasonably intact bouquet of flowers for her friend.
Ryan looked up at her with a small smile and asked, "For me?"
"Yeah," Jordan said as she sat in a facing chair. She placed her hand on Ryan’s knee and said, "We miss you, Ryan. It’s just not much fun without you. I don’t have anyone to harass."
Ryan reached out and ruffled her hair as she sat back to open her cards. She chuckled at both and handed them to Jamie who took them and the flowers and arranged them on the table.
Dinner was just about ready, and Jordan hopped up to set the table and help bring the food over. True to Jamie’s prediction, Ryan picked at the chicken but ate a reasonable amount of dressing, broccoli, and butternut squash. Jordan more than made up for Ryan’s diminished appetite, and the entire meal quickly disappeared.
Ryan didn’t even try to get up to help, satisfied to watch her friend aid in the cleanup. "So, give me the story behind the first game," she finally demanded.
Jordan had avoided this topic since she knew it would only serve to depress her friend, but she couldn’t avoid a direct question so she gave her the scoop. "Well, Hawaii is a powerhouse as usual. They kicked our butts, but it was well deserved. Their middle blockers are just awesome, Ryan. They’re clearly in a class above us."
"Do you really believe that?" Ryan asked, doubting her friend's assessment.
"Well…Heather started in your place, and she just had a terrible game. I don’t know what her problem was, but she didn’t have one kill in the first game. Coach finally took her out, but Ashley didn’t do much better. When it became obvious that we were weak on the outside, they tweaked their offense to target them and just pounded them all night. It was actually kind of sickening. You know how it is when momentum starts to shift against you? We just couldn’t do anything right. Our service percentage sucked, we couldn’t get up for blocks, God, I think we had something like 20 kills for the night! So clearly no one played well, including me. We were just incredibly flat."
Ryan just looked down at the table in silence. It broke her heart to see her team struggling and not be able to help, but she was truly powerless. "I’m really sorry I let you down," she said as a tear started to leak out. "I’ll see ya," she mumbled as she got up from the table holding her baggy pants up as she shuffled from the room.
Jordan gave her a wide-eyed stare as she left the kitchen. She turned to Jamie and said, "I…I…I don’t know…she’s so…"
"I know, Jordan," she said as she patted her back. "She’s just not herself. She gets upset really easily, and I know she blames herself for not being healthy. She’s as depressed as I’ve ever seen her."
"God, I wish I hadn’t come," she mumbled. "I know I made it worse!"
"No you didn’t," Jamie assured her as she squeezed her shoulder. "Believe me, if you hadn’t come, she would be morbidly depressed that no one cared about her. She’s just really ill and it’s affected her mood."
"Should I go upstairs and try to tell her that we don’t blame her?"
"If you want to you can try, but there’s a good chance that she’ll blow you off or cry like a baby."
"I think I’ll try anyway," she gamely replied as she gathered her courage. She shot Jamie a worried glance as she admitted, "I’m not great with emotional situations."
"It’ll be okay," Jamie soothed. "Just talk to her in jock talk. That should help."
Jordan slowly made her way upstairs and paused when she came to the first open door. Ryan was lying on the bed on top of the covers with her arm thrown over her eyes. Jordan sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the tangled hair from Ryan’s face. "We’re not mad at you for missing the games, Ryan. We know how sick you’ve been. To be honest, I’m amazed you’re not hospitalized! You just look so frail," she said softly as a tear leaked out of her eye.
Ryan kept her arm right where it was, but she did warn her friend, "I’m probably still contagious, you know. You might want to keep your distance."
"Thanks for the warning, but I want to be with you. I didn’t come over here to make you feel bad, Ryan. I really want you to know that I miss you, and not just as a teammate. I miss talking to you and joking with you, and kicking your lame little butt," she said as she patted her cheek.
Ryan dropped her arm and gave her a genuine half smile. "I could probably still take you in a 400, and I’m as weak as a sick pup."
"One time, O’Flaherty. You beat me one time, and I swear that I was carrying at least five pounds of lead in my pockets. When you get well, we’re having a showdown! Loser has to carry the winner’s baggage on all road trips for the rest of the year!"
"You’re on, slowpoke," Ryan said as her half smile turned into a full one.
Jordan leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. "Your weak little germs can’t even touch me," she teased, giving her a gentle squeeze.
Ryan held on for a moment and whispered, "Thanks for caring about me."
As she rose, Jordan gave her a high wattage grin as she admitted, "I have to care about you. You’re the only person on the team who makes me feel superior in every way!"

Ryan’s fever remained low, but her illness had progressed into her bronchial tubes and she began to cough not long after Jordan left. The coughing persisted until her lungs ached, and Jamie was afraid she would crack a rib. After a rather frantic call to Annie for advice, and another to Ryan’s family doctor, Jamie went to the drugstore and bought thick rolls of adhesive tape and picked up some powerful prescription cough syrup. She carefully wrapped the tape around Ryan’s painful ribs, providing some support, then gave her a dose of the codeine-laden medicine, knocking her out until the next morning. The drug-aided quiet allowed both women to sleep through the night for the first time in a week, mildly replenishing their physical reserves.

On Friday afternoon Mia burst into the house carrying lunch for the patient. "Hey, Ryan," she bellowed from the living room, "luncheon is served."
Ryan came to the railing of the stairs, clad in only her underwear. "You brought me lunch?" she asked in delight. "I’ll be right down. I just need to get dressed."
"Don’t bother on my account," Mia said easily. Ryan dutifully slipped on her pajamas and padded downstairs moments later. "If you’re comfortable in your undies it certainly doesn’t bother me," Mia assured her.
"I think it bothers Jamie," Ryan confided. "She doesn’t even like me to be naked in the locker room."
"She’s a quirky one," Mia agreed as she pulled out big containers of pasta and meat sauce.
"Oohh, I love Italian food," Ryan enthused, salivating.
"What don’t you love?" Mia teased. "I’ve never seen you turn your nose up at any food."
"It’s funny," she said. "I don’t have an appetite in the morning, and I barely eat dinner, but I’m famished at lunchtime. It really helps to have something substantial, Mia. Thanks a lot."
"So how are you doing?" Mia asked as they dug into the feast. "Are you totally bummed about not playing tonight?"
"It truly sucks," she agreed. "I’ve worked so hard that it just kills me to have to miss all of these games."
"Have they won the games you’ve missed?"
"No," Ryan reported glumly. "They’ve only played one, but it doesn’t look good. I’m not saying that I’m the key to success, but when you practice as a team you get used to certain things that certain players can do. I think my absence has thrown off the chemistry of the team."
"It really does suck," Mia said sympathetically.
They spent the next 20 minutes talking about their classes. Mia surprised Ryan to no end when she insisted on cleaning up after the meal. Ryan was fading fast and Mia gently asked, "How long have you been up?"
"I got up when Jamie did. I’ve been reading ever since, so this is a pretty long spell without a nap. I should go back to bed, but I’m so sick of being in that bed alone I could scream!"
"Oh! I forgot your other present!" she said excitedly as she ran to her bag. She returned a few minutes later with the September issue of Playboy. "Look! Girls of the PAC-10!"
Ryan had to chuckle at her excitement. "Thanks, Mia. Maybe this will get me jump started a little bit. I’m afraid Jamie might turn me in for a new model. Her needs have been largely ignored for nearly a week now."
"No way, Babe. She’s stuck like glue. Come out to the library and sit with me for a while. I’ve got to get some reading done for my afternoon class, but I could give you a head rub while I do it."
"Would you really?" she asked excitedly. "I’d love to be able to relax down here, and some human contact would be most appreciated."
"Come on," she said as she linked her arm with Ryan’s.
Minutes later Mia was ensconced on one end of the long leather sofa with Ryan’s dark head resting on her lap. She held a paperback book in one hand while the other trailed lightly through Ryan’s dark locks. Half an hour later Jamie found them in a much more relaxed posture. Ryan was sound asleep, still resting on Mia’s lap, but now on her side with her feet drawn up. Mia was likewise asleep, with one arm protectively draped across Ryan’s shoulder and the other tangled in her hair. A copy of Playboy was haphazardly lying on the floor, obviously dropped from Ryan’s limp hand. I think I’m going to have to get a taping system like my parents have, she mused. All sorts of stuff obviously goes on here when I’m at school!

Part Five
Later that night, Ryan was so happy to be able to go to her family’s home that she actually seemed significantly better. By bedtime things had almost reverted to normal except for the dreadful cough that threatened to loosen the shingles on the roof. Luckily the cough progressed and by Saturday night it was productive, which eased the strain on Ryan’s body. But the sound of her coughing up gobs of phlegm set Jamie’s teeth on edge, and she prayed for a quick end to this phase of the illness.

Monday was Labor Day, but Jamie still had golf practice that morning. After a tedious argument, she went alone, refusing Ryan’s entreaties to be allowed to accompany her. By the time she got home, Ryan was edgy and irritable. "I can’t stay in the house alone all day," she whined. "Can’t we go to the party?" 
Martin was working all day, so the traditional O’Flaherty Labor Day party was being held at Francis’ home. Ryan had been lobbying to attend, but Jamie didn’t think it was wise to allow her to be around the baby on the off chance that she was still infectious. The second draining argument of the day raged for a while until Jamie got frustrated and called Martin at work and had him forbid his daughter from going to the party. As Ryan stalked away from the phone, Jamie heard only one word that was mumbled under her breath. "Traitor!" she grumbled as she went back to bed.

When Ryan woke, Jamie came over to sit on the edge of the bed and said, "I hate being such a Scrooge. And I hate seeing you so sad. Can you think of anything that might brighten your mood?"
"I need to be outside, Jamers," she begged. "I feel like I’m dying a slow death being cooped up like this. It’s been a week and two days!"
"Okay, Love. How about this? I know your stamina isn’t good, so let’s go over to Olympic. You can drive the cart and feel the breeze in your hair and get a little sun on your face."
"Okay," Ryan allowed. "That sounds pretty nice. Can I get out of the cart and hit a few balls?"
"Of course. If you feel like it, you can do anything you wish."

"Hey, Con, wanna play golf this afternoon?" Jamie asked when she spotted Conor watching TV.
"Well, I was going to go to the party." He looked at his pale sister and caught the look Jamie was giving him. He had heard snippets of an argument and had guessed that it centered around Ryan not being allowed to attend, so he backed off. "That’s no big deal though. I’d be glad to play. Where do you want to go?"
"Let’s do Olympic," Jamie decided. "It’ll be much less crowded."
His eyes lit up immediately. "Now I’m really in." Looking at his sister, still clad in her pajamas, he asked, "Think you can get into clothes some time today, Sis?"
"Hey, I can’t help it that I have something wonderful to stay in bed for," she drawled, giving her blushing partner a pointed look through her droopy bangs.
"Stop that!" Jamie mouthed, narrowing her eyes at her impish partner.
"I’ve gotta get me some of that," Conor decided. "I’m gonna be the old maid around here if I don’t get shakin’."
"Can we help?" Jamie asked, thinking that Conor’s prediction was very close to coming true. 
"Maybe," he said seriously, his dark blue eyes focusing sharply. "Maybe you can."

"Hey, James, what’s up?" Mia’s perky voice answered.
"Do you want to play golf with us this afternoon? We’re gonna play Olympic."
"Golf, huh?" she asked slowly. "Is that the best you can offer?"
"Conor’s playing with us, and he specifically asked if you might be available."
"You know, I can’t think of a thing I’d rather do than play a little golf," Mia decided immediately. 

It was after six when they finished the round, and everyone was starved. "Since Da’s at work, why don’t we have dinner at our house?" Ryan asked, drawing approval from the foursome. "Barbequed chicken okay with everyone?"
"Works for me," Conor said, and Mia echoed him.
"Jamie and I will go to the store. You two go home and get the grill started, okay?"
"Will do, Sis," he agreed, giving Mia a long, appraising glance as she walked in front of him, headed for the truck. 
"Conor. Conor. CONOR!"
"What?" he said, looking at his sister with annoyance.
"Don’t forget to start the fire…in the barbeque pit…not your loins!" she added, just so there was no confusion.

"It’s kinda nice having Conor cook for us, isn’t it?" Ryan asked as she and Jamie relaxed in the living room. The recuperating woman had held up remarkably well, and Jamie had been pleased that she didn’t even try to push herself to play. She seemed happy to drive the cart and urge her partner on, and Jamie could see some of the sparkle come back into the blue eyes as she soaked up the warm sun. When they arrived home, Conor had taken over the grill, and Mia had appointed herself his assistant. Each time Ryan had ventured outside she felt like a third wheel, so she finally gave up and stayed in the house with Jamie.
"I like it," Jamie agreed. "And Mia seems awfully interested in the big guy."
"Vice versa, too," Ryan decided. "I’ve always thought he and Mia would be good together. I wonder why he didn’t pursue her after we took them to the baseball game?"
"Mia wondered the same thing," Jamie revealed. "Don’t you ask him questions like that?"
"No. We try to stay out of each other’s romantic lives as much as possible. I don’t really know what’s up with him on the girlfriend front. All I know is that he’s not had a steady in almost three years. After he decided not to move in with his girlfriend, he seemed to shy away from getting serious."
"Sounds like his sister," Jamie teased. 
"Yeah," Ryan mused. "We’re a lot alike that way. That’s why I’d love for him to find someone he meshes with. I’m so much happier now than I was before, and I think he would be too."
"You sure that it’s not just misery loves company?"
"Nope." Ryan’s dark head started to shake as she declared, "Bliss loves company, too."

During dinner the sparks were flying so furiously between Conor and Mia that Ryan was on the verge of giving them a tray so they could eat in Mia's room. After a while, Jamie and Ryan began to have a separate conversation, doing their best to ignore the other pair. 
As soon as was polite, Ryan stood and offered to do the dishes. "I’ll help," Jamie piped up, trying to give the other couple some time alone. She and Ryan dashed into the kitchen, the smaller woman leaning heavily against the door. "My God! We weren’t that bad at first, were we?"
"Yes, of course we were," Ryan laughed. "Luckily, we were trying to keep it a secret, so not many people were subjected to our mating rituals."
"Lucky them!" Jamie cried, crossing over to the sink. She paused as she reached it and turned to regard Ryan with a curious expression. "We’re not that bad now, are we?"
"Weeeeell," Ryan drawled, making her partner blush, "we still have our moments. But having our own room helps matters quite a bit."
"Jeez! I sure hope so. That was absolutely embarrassing."
"Well, I think it’s cute," Ryan decided. "I don’t get to see Conor around women very often. It’s kinda nice to live vicariously through him."
"You won’t have to live vicariously for long. Your sex drive will come back as soon as you’re well. Don’t worry about it."
"I’m not exactly worried," Ryan decided. "It just feels odd not to have any desire whatsoever." She pulled her loose jeans away from her waist and cast a tentative look into her pants. "Don’t forget about me," she urged her fun parts, drawing an amused grin from her partner.

Ryan wasn’t sure what time it was when the sound of someone opening and closing the drawers and cabinets in their bathroom startled her awake. It’s not Jamie, she managed to think, her lover wrapped around her like a blanket. Oh well, Mia must be looking for a spare toothbrush for Conor. I’m sure he’s still here, she thought with a mental smirk.

The fight began just moments after dawn when Jamie woke to the sight of her lover getting dressed for school. "No way, Ryan," she said firmly, drawing an outraged look from the cool blue eyes.
"I’m better!"
"Yes, you are, but you still had a little fever yesterday. You can’t go back to school until your temp has been normal for 24 hours. I’m sorry, Babe, but I’m not going to bend on this."
"Do you mean to tell me that you think you’re going to stop me from going to practice today?" Her eyes were fiery now, and Jamie knew that she had to pull out the big guns.
"Ryan, Coach Placer told me that he will not let you practice until I give him the okay. I’m sorry to do this, but you can’t practice today, and you can’t play tomorrow. You’re too weak and too run down to even attempt it."
The enraged woman turned and stormed into her room, slamming and then locking her door, refusing to respond to Jamie’s quiet "I love you," before she left for school.

After waking at ten, Ryan went downstairs to fix a little breakfast. Mia came into the kitchen, took one look at her and nearly leapt at her, slapping her with both of her open hands, yelling in frustration as she cried, "How old were those fucking condoms!"
Ryan was protecting her body as best she could, not having any idea why her roommate was trying to knock her senseless. She finally grabbed both of the flying hands and gave her a good shake, needing all of her energy to do so. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
"The condoms!" the smaller woman cried. "How old were they?"
"Mia, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t give you any condoms!" The irate woman lifted her knee, looking like she was going to give her a shot to the groin. Ryan bent over, narrowing the potential target as she pushed her away sharply. "What in the hell is wrong with you!?"
"Your stupid brother broke a condom on me last night, and it’s your fault!" She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Ryan defiantly.
"Okay," Ryan said, running her hands through her hair. "I never gave you a condom, so how can I know how old the one you used was?"
"I found them in your closet," she insisted. "In that gym bag where you keep your toys." Her face broke into a small smile as she said, "Great collection, by the way. Maybe you’re the more attractive O’Flaherty."
"Thanks," Ryan said, turning to walk over to the couch and flop down on it. "I kinda prefer women that don’t try to knock the stuffing out of me, but I’ll keep your name on file."
"Oh, I didn’t hurt you," the smaller woman scoffed, sitting next to her and rubbing her leg. "I didn’t get a lick in."
"You sure tried hard enough," Ryan chided. "You fight dirty, too. That knee to the groin hurts women as much as it does men."
"Yeah, I know," Mia laughed. "They act like it hurts worse, though."
"Okay, let’s get this straight," Ryan said, shaking her head to order her jumbled thoughts. "You and my rock-headed brother just had to have sex last night. Neither of you had any condoms, but that didn’t stop you. So you rifle through my stuff and find some old condoms in my toy bag which you then proceed to use."
"That’s right so far," Mia agreed.
"One of the condoms breaks, and you, of course, blame me."
"Right again," Mia nodded, pleased that Ryan was finally catching on.
"What was Conor’s reaction to this?" Ryan asked, assuming that Conor had freaked.
"Mmm, he was okay," Mia revealed. "He swore that he’d been tested for AIDS last year, and that he always used a condom."
"He’d better," Ryan muttered to herself.
"I’m sure he would have been a little more upset if I had told him that I didn’t use any other form of birth control," the smaller woman muttered, getting to the heart of the issue.
Ryan’s face blanched as her head started to shake. "So, you not only had unprotected sex, but you might be pregnant."
"No shit!" Mia moaned. "Why do you think I’m so upset?"
"Get your stuff," Ryan decreed, rising to fetch her backpack.
"Where are we going?" Mia cried, rushing to keep up with the long-legged woman.
"We’re going to the doctor. Your choice between University Health Services and your private doctor."
"I have a private one, but she’s in Palo Alto."
Ryan rolled her eyes, decreeing, "UHS it is. Let’s go. I’m too young to be an aunt."

For some strange reason the wait was not interminable, and Mia’s name was called fairly quickly. "Okay," she said as she got up. "Tell me again what I want?"
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Ryan asked, not really looking forward to the experience, but wanting to make sure that Mia was properly taken care of.
"Will you?" For the first time, the warm brown eyes looked at Ryan with a hint of fear.
"Sure. I’d be happy to," she assured her, getting up and sliding an arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders.

"All right, Ms. Christopher, what can we do for you today?" the nurse practitioner asked as she slipped into the room. Mia was partially covered in a drab green paper gown, leaving at least half of her body exposed to the chill of the air conditioning that the conveniently located blower rained down on her.
She looked up at Ryan, once again looking rather afraid. 
Taking over, the tall woman explained, "My friend here had unprotected sex last night, and she’s not taking birth control."
"Oh, I see," the nurse said slowly, her brow furrowing. "You do know the dangers of unprotected sex, don’t you, Ms. Christopher?"
"Yes, of course I do," Mia insisted. "I did my part," she said, her normal attitude back in place. "It’s her condom that broke." She was now glaring at Ryan, and the nurse turned to look at Ryan with a puzzled expression.
"Long story. Germane to nothing," she said, in her usual shorthand style. "Can you prescribe the morning after pill for my friend?" she asked, getting down to business.
"Of course," the woman replied. "Where are you in your cycle?"
"Right smack in the middle of it," Mia muttered, having worked out the math all morning long. She was by now all too well aware that she was at her most fertile.
"I’ll need to do a pelvic exam first, to make sure you’re not pregnant," the nurse insisted.
"I’m not," Mia maintained. "I haven’t had sex with a guy in three months."
"Just lie back," the nurse insisted, not swayed by Mia’s declaration. "Put your feet in the stirrups and slide down towards me please."
Shooting Ryan a venomous look, the irate woman did so, while Ryan judiciously focused her attention elsewhere.

"What is this stuff again?" Mia asked as she swallowed the two small pills the nurse had given her.
"It’s a higher dose of the normal birth control pill," Ryan explained once again, trying to be patient with her flustered friend. "It helps delay the release of the ovum, and it slightly disrupts the development of the uterine lining. It’s perfectly safe, Mia. Much safer than pregnancy," Ryan intoned somberly.
Mia sighed and rested her head against Ryan’s chest. "Can I have a hug?" she asked softly.
Ryan immediately wrapped her arms around her friend’s shivering body. "You’re chilled," she said softly, tightening her hold.
"Jamie’s right," Mia murmured. "It feels really safe in here." She nuzzled her face against Ryan for just a minute more, finally pulling back and tilting her chin up for a kiss, which Ryan gladly delivered. "Thanks for taking care of me," she said, a definite slump in her posture. "I never thought I’d be having an abortion, but here I am."
"No, no, no, Mia," Ryan insisted, grasping her shoulders to force eye contact. "This is not an abortion. This prevents the release of the egg. No egg—no pregnancy. Trust me on this, Mia. I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important."
"I do trust you, Ryan. I just don’t know much about this stuff. That’s why I was on the Depo-Provera shot for a long time. I just didn’t want to think about any of this."
"Why did you go off it? You really should have some form of back-up birth control, Mia. Condoms are just not fool-proof enough."
"Ya think?" she asked dryly. "I’ll probably go on the pill or something reliable like that. I was on Depo from the time I was in high school, but I hadn’t had a period in almost five years because of it, and my doctor thought I should go off of it for a while. Since I’m not dating anybody, it seemed like a good time, so I had my last shot in April. I just got my first period last month."
"Lucky you," Ryan chuckled.
"Yeah, timing is everything, huh?" 
"I’ll say."
"So I don’t have anything to worry about, huh? You’re sure I won’t get pregnant?"
"Very, very unlikely," Ryan assured her. "Less than a five percent chance when you take the pills properly if you take them less than 24 hours after intercourse."
"Thanks, Pal," Mia said again. "I am SO not ready to be a mommy."
Ryan slid an arm around her again, and gave her a gentle hug. "Maybe not, but I’d kinda like to have you as a sister-in-law."
"Maybe someday," Mia smiled. "Far…far…far…in the future."

When they returned from the doctor, Mia announced that she was heading out to attend her afternoon classes, but Ryan shot her a warning glance. The nurse told you that you might be nauseous, Mia. You might want to stick close to home."
The curly-haired brunette looked at her for a minute and said, "I’ve skipped this class twice already, and I only get four cuts. I think I’ve got to go."
Ryan nodded and offered, "If you start to feel bad, call me and I’ll come pick you up. I know some women don’t have much reaction to the pills, but some get very ill. I don’t want you walking home if you’re sick."
"Will do. Thanks again for taking care of me, Ryan. You’re a good bud."
When Mia left Ryan collapsed on the sofa in the living room, desperately needing a nap. The ringing phone woke her moments after she fell asleep and she answered groggily, "H’lo?"
"Ryan dear, it’s Aunt Maeve. I thought I’d come see how you’re doing if you’re up to a visitor."
"Oh…sure. Um…I’m probably just going to sleep, but you know you’re always welcome, Aunt Maeve."
"All right, Love. I’ll be over in a bit."
"I’ll leave the front door unlocked."
Maeve arrived mid-afternoon, carrying some of her homemade chicken soup. Luckily she used the correct kind of egg noodles, having learned the recipe from her mother just as Fionnuala had. Ryan had not yet had lunch yet since she had spent the better part of mid-day with Mia, and she dug into the soup with gusto while Maeve entertained her with news of Caitlin, who had pleased her father by finally uttering "Da Da" in a clear voice that morning before he left for work. Ryan kept her secret about the earlier utterance of the word, having decided that Tommy should always assume that Caitlin reserved that honorific for him alone.
After lunch they went into the living room to chat for a while. Ryan's energy soon began to wane; Maeve noticed that she was fading fast, so she scooted down to the end of the sofa and patted her lap. "Down you go," she instructed as Ryan shot her a childlike grin and took her up on her offer. One of her favorite memories of the years immediately following her mother’s death was of lying on a sofa or a bed while her aunt rubbed her head. It had become a calming ritual for both of them and Ryan occasionally wished that they still had that loving contact, but it was hard to ask your aunt to rub your head when you were 23 years old. Still, if she offered…
As her head hit her aunt's lap, her eyes closed and she let herself just soak up the warm feelings flowing over her. Maeve began to run her fingers lightly through Ryan’s dark hair, ruffling it with each pass. "I like what you’ve done to your hair, Sweetheart. It’s a very becoming style for you."
"I wasn’t ready to ditch the bangs, but the guy Jamie takes me to won’t cut them anymore, so I guess they’re gone for good," she said with a little shrug.
"You’re very happy together, aren’t you, Ryan?"
She looked up at her aunt with a confident smile as she said, "Yeah, I am. I’m not sure Jamie’s happy with me right now, but I’m happier than I ever thought possible. Jamie is everything I could ever want in a partner, and I know we’ll be together for the rest of our lives."
"Well, well," she said fondly, fluffing Ryan’s hair, "I knew you were over the moon, but I didn’t realize you were permanently committed to each other."
"If we could get married, I’d do so tomorrow," she said. 
"I’m so sorry that you can’t," Maeve whispered. "It just breaks my heart that people are so narrow-minded towards love."
"Thanks, Aunt Maeve. It really helps to have the family support our love. That’s easily as good as having the state recognize us."
Maeve looked down on her niece as she continued to massage her scalp. "Your mother would be mad for Jamie, you know."
"Do you really think so?" Ryan asked with just a touch of hesitation. "I mean, I know how lovable Jamie is, but I’ve thought maybe Mama would have some issues about me giving my heart away."
"I don’t think so, Dear. Your mother was most concerned about raising adults, not children. She used to make me laugh when she would say that people should put things in perspective by looking at their children as men and women rather than boys and girls. She wanted nothing more than for each of you to find a mate and build your own lives. And she loved your father so much that I think she wanted to have him all to herself once you were all grown and gone." Her voice caught on this last sentence, and Ryan looked up through her own misty eyes to catch the tears running down her aunt’s cheeks.
"You miss her a lot, don’t you?" Ryan said softly.
"I think of her every day, Siobhan," Maeve said, reverting to the name her sister had so loved. "And I see her in you so clearly sometimes that it takes my breath away."
"Do you really?" Ryan asked, totally charmed by this revelation. "You’ve never said that before."
"I must admit it’s been happening much more since Jamie’s come into your life, Dear. You’ve just become so much softer and more vulnerable since you’ve fallen in love. And that’s the part of you that’s like my little sister."
"That’s how I remember her," Ryan admitted. "When I think of her, I can just feel a warmth and a softness that feels like it envelops me. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, it truly does," she agreed. "Oh, she was a feisty one, too, don’t get me wrong. But warmth and gentleness just flowed from her when she was with you and the boys." She looked down on her niece with affection as she revealed, "I still remember the day she said she prayed that some day you’d find someone to love you as much as she did." She brought her fingers to her mouth and kissed them lightly, then placed them on Ryan’s cheek. "I’m so happy that you’ve made her wish come true."
Ryan let her tears come unrestrained upon hearing this. She cried for a long while as Maeve continued to stroke her hair and face, tenderly comforting her.

At 6:30 Jamie opened the front door to see Maeve holding up a finger to her lips, indicating that Jamie should be quiet. She silently closed the door and tiptoed over to the sofa, feeling a swell of emotion as she saw her lover curled up in her aunt’s lap. She looked so young and innocent, with such a guileless look on her face, that Jamie could actually see the young child in her. As usual, Ryan’s internal radar alerted her to Jamie’s presence and she blinked her eyes open a few minutes after she arrived. She sweetly looked up at her aunt as she asked, "How long was I asleep?"
"About two hours, Love."
"Two hours! You must be stiff from sitting in one position for so long. You didn’t have to let me sleep like that, Aunt Maeve!"
"It was nothing but pleasure for me, Sweetheart. I miss having you sleep in my arms; it’s been a long while."
Ryan gave her a crooked grin as she stayed right where she was. "I miss it too," she admitted. "I get to sleep on Jamie’s lap, but it’s not the same." Jamie had perched on the arm of the sofa and she brought her hand down to brush the hair from Ryan’s face as she continued. "There’s something about Jamie that feels decided un-maternal," she teased as she caught her gaze.
"Lucky for you," the blonde pointed out as she lightly ruffled her hair. 
Ryan tossed her legs to the floor and stretched a bit before she got up and went over to hug her partner. "Mad at me?" she whispered softly.
"Of course not. You’re justifiably disappointed, Ryan. You’re just taking out your frustrations on me."
"Yeah, that’s it," Ryan agreed, not mentioning the fact that she had nearly passed out from exhaustion after just sitting in the doctor’s office for an hour. "You were right, as usual, Babe. I’m not up to playing yet."
Maeve stood up and did her own little stretch as she announced, "I’d better get moving if I want to beat the traffic."
"It’s too late for that, Maeve, why don’t you stay for dinner?" Jamie asked.
"Are you sure it’s no bother?"
"You couldn’t be a bother if you tried," Ryan said sincerely as she bent over to give her a gentle hug.

Ryan sat in the kitchen since she was still under Jamie’s orders to rest, but Maeve was allowed to help with the meal preparation. Jamie put her in charge of making a salad while she prepared one of Ryan’s favorite risottos. It took a long spell of constant stirring to render the rice tender enough, and while they were waiting Jamie took Ryan’s temperature once again, pleased when it finally read 98.6. "If it’s normal in the morning, you can go to school," Jamie announced, drawing a slightly worried look from her partner.

Jamie knew that Ryan was nearly healed when she insisted on going for a walk after Maeve departed. They stayed very close to home, but they managed to circle the block four times before she called it a night.
Once in bed, Ryan revealed her fears, "That last block seemed two times longer than the one before, Jamie. I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to stay in class all day." She hit her pillow in frustration. "This is so hard for me to tolerate! My body’s never betrayed me like this!"
"I know, Love, I know," she soothed, drawing Ryan close and patting her gently. "I’m just begging you to take it easy, Ryan. It’s better to take it slow than to have a relapse and miss another week, isn’t it?"
"I guess," she agreed. "It’s just so much more understandable when you’ve got a broken leg or a torn muscle. It sounds so lame to miss four games with the flu." She said "flu" with the same inflection she would have used for "chapped lips" as an excuse.
"The flu has probably killed more people worldwide than most other diseases, Ryan. It’s a very serious illness."
"I know that, Jamie," she said softly. "My grandfather lost both of his parents, and my grandmother lost a baby brother, to the worldwide epidemic in 1916."
Jamie sat up in alarm, "My God, Ryan, why didn’t you say something! That’s absolutely horrible!"
"I know," she said quietly. "I think that’s why I freaked out when you first told me that’s what I had. My Granny told me that her little brother was fine one day, and dead the next." She shivered noticeably as she added, "Sometimes she doesn’t use good judgment in what she tells kids. I’m never going to let her be alone with our babies."
Jamie was even more shocked by this announcement. She knew that Ryan had a rather stormy relationship with her grandmother, but she didn’t have any idea that she didn’t trust her. "I didn’t realize…" she began, but Ryan elaborated.
"She’s a good woman, Jamie, but she’s harsh. She had a very tough life, and she thinks it’s fine to tell kids about all the horrors of it, no matter how young they are. I think she thinks it will toughen them up." Ryan snuggled close and said, "I want our babies to think the world is a safe and gentle place until they absolutely have to be exposed to the realities of life."
"I want that too," Jamie whispered, wishing that she could do the same for her precious partner.

When Ryan didn’t even ask if she could attend the volleyball game on Wednesday night, Jamie had a very good indication of how much energy her day at school had demanded. She tucked her into bed at eight o’clock and went back downstairs to study a bit. 
Mia came home at ten and collapsed against Jamie in an exaggerated mock faint, moaning, "Can you believe what happened with Conor and me?"
Using every available muscle to keep her friend from dropping to the floor, Jamie laughed, saying, "What are you talking about? What happened?"
Mia found her feet and ran a hand through her disordered curls, gazing questioningly at Jamie. "Ryan didn’t tell you?" 
"Tell me what?" the blonde asked once again. 
"About me thinking I might be pregnant."
"WHAT? God, Mia, are you serious?"
"Wait a minute," the curly-haired woman ordered. "Just wait a minute. Your lover thinks that her brother might have gotten me pregnant, and she doesn’t even mention it to you? Jesus, I guess that shows me where I fall in the food chain! I don’t even merit a footnote!"
"No, no, that’s not it," Jamie sighed, rolling her eyes. "Ryan never, and I do mean never, talks about other people. No matter how much she wants to. I didn’t even know that you slept with Conor."
Mia’s big brown eyes blinked slowly, trying to determine when Jamie was going to get to the punch line. "You’re kidding, right?" she finally gasped.
"Nope. I wish I was. It drives me absolutely stark raving mad sometimes, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Telling her something is like putting it in the vault."
"That’s sick!" Mia cried. "What fun is that?"
"Not much," Jamie agreed. "It’s really hard for her sometimes because she can’t vent to other people when something’s bothering her. But even if she really, really wants to tell, she won’t."
"Damn, that’s either really noble or…or…I don’t even know what that is!"
"Let’s get back to the topic here. What in the hell were you doing sleeping with Conor without protection? Are you nuts?"
"No, I thought I had protection," she insisted. "Those condoms Ryan had in her sex toy bag were ancient!"
"She has condoms?" Jamie gaped.
"Dozens of ‘em," Mia insisted. "Don’t you use ‘em?"
"Are you sure you’ve slept with women, Mia? They don’t have parts that condoms fit over."
"Uh-huh," Mia laughed, this time absolutely certain that Jamie was toying with her. "You never fail to crack me up, James."
Jamie was not going to let Mia know that she had no idea what she was talking about, so she just smiled enigmatically and reminded her to finish her story. "So what happened after the condom broke?"
"Well, as you know, I’m not using any other form of birth control. Luckily, your girlfriend understands reproduction better than I do, and she took me to University Health Services to get me the morning after pill." She paused for a moment and looked over at Jamie thoughtfully. "She was really wonderful, James. Really concerned about my feelings…she even held me when I was scared." Shaking her head slowly she added, "She’s a very good person." 
"She is," Jamie agreed.
"So how did the little lame princess take to having to miss another game tonight?" Mia asked, trying to switch to brighter topics.
"She was okay today, but she’s still pretty volatile. She just seems so frustrated, Mia. I really feel bad for her."
Patting Jamie’s knee gently, Mia asked, "How about you, Babe? Aren’t you getting a little…frustrated?"
"Huh? Oh…" she said, comprehension dawning. "No, not at all, really. I haven’t even considered sex since she’s been ill. My sex drive isn’t that strong on its own. It’s my interactions with Ryan that get my motor running, and she’s not giving off any sexual vibes at all." Jamie paused thoughtfully as she considered, "I actually feel more maternal towards her these days. Funny," she added as she shook her head.
Mia gave her a long look and asked, "So what’s it like, James? Being committed to a woman, I mean."
"Uhh...I’m not sure what you mean, Mia."
"Well, you’ve been committed to a guy, and now you’re committed to a woman. What’s the difference?"
"Eh…I’m not sure I’m the one to ask," she said. "I think a real bisexual could give you a more accurate depiction of the differences."
"Um…what are you?" Mia asked carefully. "I kinda thought that…"
"Nope," Jamie said. "It hit me when I was in Rhode Island. I’m a true blue lesbian, Mia. I just didn’t know it until I met Ryan."
"Wow! That’s a switch! How do you feel about that, James?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "It’s weird, Mia, but it’s no big deal. I don’t think I even remembered to tell Ryan about my revelation. It just felt right when I told my cousin."
"Weird," she agreed. "You know, there’s a part of me that envies you, James. Sometimes I wish I could go lesbian." She shuddered as she added, "Especially after what happened on Monday night. I would love never to have to worry about birth control again."
"You know," Jamie said thoughtfully, "guys will never be able to understand women fully until they know what it’s like to have to have that low-level fear of pregnancy every time you have sex. Even on the pill it was always on my mind. Jack thought I was nuts, but having that worry get all mixed up with sex is really tough on the old libido. I feel so free with Ryan. Like we can do it whenever, wherever we want and never have to worry if we missed a pill or don’t have condoms with us."
"God, I would love that," Mia moaned. "I just can’t imagine never having my hands on another…" She shot Jamie a look and said, "You probably don’t want to hear me wax poetic about the beauty of penises, do you?"
"No," Jamie agreed. "I never really loved the little things myself. Too temperamental."
"Yeah, they can be," Mia agreed. "But when a guy really knows how to use it…like Conor," she added teasingly, "it can make up for a boatload of problems."
Jamie squirmed in her seat, not wanting to pry, but fascinated to hear a little bit about Mia’s experience. "So, um…he was really good?"
Mia dramatically faked a swoon, fanning herself with both hands. "He could do that for a living and make a fortune! By far, without a doubt, the best sex I’ve ever had with a man."
"What makes him so good?" Jamie asked quizzically.
"Hmm…what was it," Mia mused thoughtfully. "Well, technically, he was the perfect size…" She held her hands up, trying to approximate Conor’s proportions, but Jamie’s hand shot out to grab her friend’s wrist to prevent the demonstration. 
"Generalities, Mia, please, no specifics. I have to look at him over breakfast on the weekends."
"Okay, suit yourself," she agreed, dropping her hands. She sighed heavily and cocked her head as she said, "Maybe it’s because he’s older than the guys I normally go out with, but he wasn’t focused only on himself. He was just so present," she mused. "It’s hard to convey, but I felt like I really knew him." She shivered a little as she said, "That’s never happened to me before, James. It was our first time, but it felt like something we’d been sharing for years. This might sound funny, but he made me feel beautiful, and incredibly sexy."
Jamie snaked an arm around her back and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Must be genetic," she chuckled, "’cause that’s just how his baby sister makes me feel--like I’m the most beautiful woman on earth, and that she loves the very ground I walk on."
"You’re a lucky woman, James. That face, that body, and to feel like that when she loves you. Whew! And to have it all in a package that doesn’t spew semen…wow!"
"Well, that’s not the most elegant way I’ve heard it put, but you’re right. I am incredibly lucky. And getting enough semen to have a baby when we want one won’t be a problem with that raft of brothers and cousins. She’s truly the ideal woman." 

"Rescued any fair maidens today, or is that a Monday, Wednesday, Friday thing?" Jamie asked when Ryan awoke as she joined her in their bed.
Ryan blinked groggily for a moment, then yawned loudly and stretched. "Mia told you, huh?"
"Yesssss. You sure as heck didn’t."
"We’re not going to go into this again, are we?" Ryan’s body had grown noticeably stiffer, and she was clearly preparing for a fight.
"No, Love," Jamie soothed, giving her back a little scratch. "I’m proud of you." She tucked her body into Ryan’s, enjoying the feeling of being completely enveloped.
"Proud? Why?"
"The fact that you’re so honorable is really something to admire, Honey. I’m surprised at myself for not being able to see this earlier."
"Thanks," Ryan whispered. "That really makes me feel good."
Jamie started to rub her partner’s back, and the taller woman was nearly asleep when Jamie remembered something Mia had mentioned. "Honey?"
"Yeah?" Her voice was slow and soft, but alert, so Jamie continued.
"Why on earth do you have a bunch of condoms in your little bag of tricks?" 
Ryan rolled onto her side and braced her dark head on her hand. A playful smile brightened her face and she lifted one eyebrow as she asked, "Do you really not know, or are you playing with me?"
"Um…if I say I’m playing, will you still tell me?" she asked, flushing a little. "I hate being such an innocent."
"How much or how little experience you have is nothing to be proud of or embarrassed by," Ryan said softly. "I’m really glad that you don’t have a raft of lovers that made you cavalier about, or disenchanted with, sex."
"You’re not that way," Jamie insisted, her eyes grown wide.
"No, I’m not. I’m a natural optimist. But I’ve been with people who were so cold and distant about the act." She shivered roughly and shook her head, "Nasty stuff."
"The condoms?" Jamie reminded her gently.
"Oh, right," Ryan smiled. "I was thinking about one of the first people that I used a condom with. Got carried away on a memory for a second." She looked up at Jamie and explained, "I used condoms on sex toys so they could be reused. It’s easier to remove a condom and slip another on than having to get up and clean a toy with a bleach solution." Popping her eyebrows she added, "Romantic, huh?"
Jamie patted her idly, her attention on the far wall as she thought about Ryan’s explanation. "So you’d use a toy on someone, then throw the condom away so it’d be nice an clean later on if you wanted to use it on her again, huh?"
"Well, more likely so that she could use it on me," Ryan said, thinking the answer obvious.
For some reason, that brought Jamie up short. She sat up a little straighter and said, "Women used toys on you?"
"Well, yeah," Ryan chuckled. "I wasn’t just performing a public service. I liked to receive pleasure, too."
Now a furrow had formed between Jamie’s eyebrows. "I know that," she mused, "it just never occurred to me that you’d be on the receiving end of one of those big things." She turned to face Ryan with a puzzled frown. "I just see you um…wearing one."
"Ahh…," Ryan nodded, thinking back to the assortment of toys that she had exposed Jamie to at Good Vibrations. "If we’re talking about strap-ons, I’d say that your guess was right. I was usually driving," she grinned. "At least, that’s the way it was as I got older. I had to know and trust a woman before I’d allow myself to be that vulnerable."
"But not when you were younger?"
"No. When I was first coming out, I was so green that I’d do whatever someone suggested," she admitted. "You’ve gotta remember, Jamie, that I was in a really bad place at first. I didn’t know any lesbians my age, and I was hanging out with some pretty rough trade."
The blonde woman shook her head, musing, "I’ve never understood how you got away with that. Your father and your brothers are so protective of you. Didn’t they notice you sneaking into the house in the middle of the night?"
"Nope. I never got caught. One advantage of having a separate entrance to my room," she added with a wink. "As long as I was home for breakfast, no one was the wiser. I had some fake ID’s that Dermot got for me, and I’d wait until Da was away, or in bed, and sneak off to a bar."
"We’re having boys," Jamie pledged once again, patting her partner’s cheek. Giving Ryan a thoughtful look she asked, "Were you ever scared?"
"Oh, yeah! I was terrified sometimes." She shook her head, a somber look on her face. "It was not a nice way to come out, Jamie. Even though I had ID, it was damned obvious that I wasn’t of age. It was also pretty obvious that I’d go home with anyone who asked," she admitted. "Some of the women that approached me were really nice, but a few were kinda scary."
Concern flooded the green eyes that locked upon Ryan’s, and her hand reached out to brush her bangs from her eyes. "Did anyone ever hurt you?"
"No, not really," Ryan shook her head. "I was often a little sore, and frequently embarrassed by my naïveté, but no one ever really hurt me."
"Embarrassed? How were you embarrassed?"
Ryan chuckled softly and recounted, "When you asked me about the condoms I was thinking about the first time a woman used a strap-on on me. I was a raw beginner," she smiled, "and I’d never even seen one, much less had one inside me. I’m sure I would have screamed if I had seen her coming, but thankfully she had me bent over a couch in her living room, so I was spared that little bit of humiliation."
Jamie closed her eyes briefly and patted her partner’s back, wishing that she hadn’t been so rudely initiated into the world of lesbian sex.
"This woman was pretty tough looking," Ryan recalled. "Full leathers, tattoos, the whole bit. She was pretty gruff—not a lot of talking going on, she didn’t even ask my name, but it was pretty exciting at the same time. Everything was going well until she leans over my back and starts to put this thing into me." Ryan shivered in memory as she said, "It really wasn’t that big, but I was shocked! I let out this startled yelp and she backed off immediately, much to my surprise. She spent some time trying to relax me, and encourage me, and finally got me excited enough so that it wasn’t painful any more."
Jamie’s head was still shaking slowly, wishing she could turn back time to provide Ryan with a young partner to experiment with at her own pace.
Ryan caught the look on her face and said, "It’s okay, Jamie. This isn’t a painful memory, it’s a funny one."
With a sad smile, Jamie said, "It’s not funny to me, Sweetheart. It makes me ache for you."
Ryan gave her a genuine grin and said, "I haven’t gotten to the funny part yet."
"It’s gonna be tough to pull this out of the melancholy pile, but give it a go," Jamie said with an indulgent smile.
"Okay, here goes. Working with me and helping me relax obviously excited her a lot, and as she started to really get into it. She stood up a little and clamped onto my shoulder, then started to slap my ass—hard—on every stroke."
"Not funny," Jamie informed her, giving immediate feedback on the story.
"Hold on," Ryan smiled. "So she’s really going at it, and I kinda liked it, but the slapping was a little much. Then she really starts to get wild, and every time she slaps me she demands, ‘Who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy?’ "
Jamie’s eyes were wide and Ryan nodded enthusiastically. "That’s just what I thought!" she cried. "By this time I was totally out of the mood, and all I could think about was how much my ass hurt! It started to feel more like an interrogation than sex, and after a while I figured she’d never stop if I didn’t answer her!"
"You didn’t!" Jamie began to laugh and by the time Ryan got to the punch line, she was rolling on the bed, holding her sides.
"I most certainly did," Ryan said through her own laughter. "I called out, ‘Martin O’Flaherty is my daddy!’ "
Jamie’s legs were kicking into the air as she howled with laughter. "My God! What did she do?"
Ryan wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks and related, "She was really a pro, ‘cause she didn’t let my little outburst break her concentration. She actually paused just a second, gripped my shoulders hard and said, ‘Whatever,’ then went right back to it. I finally figured out the game, and I faked a massive orgasm just to make her stop!"
"My God, Ryan, that’s the funniest damn story I’ve ever heard. I can just see your sweet, earnest face—trying to get the answer right!"
"Yeah, they never prepared me for that kinda pop quiz at Sacred Heart. Jeez! I thought the nuns were tough!"

"Mia, Conor’s here," Jamie called up the stairs when her brother-in-law arrived to escort Mia to dinner on Thursday evening.
"Be right down," she yelled back.
Conor followed Jamie into the kitchen, idly watching her prepare dinner.
Mia came down the stairs and poked her head into the kitchen, spending a moment observing Conor before he saw her. Jesus, he’s a fine looking man, she thought, feeling her heart start to race just from his presence. One of the things she found particularly attractive was Conor’s stylish dress. When she had learned he was a carpenter she assumed he’d be in jeans and a flannel shirt all of the time, but that was exactly the opposite of the truth.
Conor did dress comfortably when he was at home or work, but when he had a date he looked like a model for GQ magazine. He actually dressed a little gay, but Mia absolutely loved the look of a massive, testosterone laden man who wasn’t afraid to look very stylish. Today he wore a skin-tight pink short sleeved shirt, the snug sleeves straining over his hard biceps, and a pair of shiny gray slacks, both pieces made with a good deal of nylon or Lycra in them so that the fabric clung to his beautifully built body.
Gotta love a man that’s not afraid to wear pink, she decided, wiping her slightly sweaty hands on her dress as she put her confident face on and went to meet her date.

Conor and Mia returned just as Ryan and Jamie finished dinner, Jamie's adventurous recipe taking much longer to prepare than she had expected. Ryan and Jamie were in the kitchen, and when Jamie went out to bring in another load of dishes she blinked and went right back in. "Whew!" she said fanning herself rapidly. "Got some hot action going on in the living room!"
"Great," Ryan moaned. "We’ve got a dining room full of dirty dishes and we have to disturb them just to bring the stuff in."
"Oh, it’s no bother. We can get it tomorrow. You probably need your rest anyway."
"I feel good," Ryan decided. "I feel more like myself that I have in almost two weeks now. I still have a little energy left."
Another peek out the kitchen door showed that the heat had risen a little bit in the living room. Jamie approached and slipped her hands behind Ryan’s neck, pulling her down for a very friendly kiss. "You should give that boy some tips," she insisted. "You were much more subtle when you were in action. I still remember you sitting on the edge of your desk in our psych class, nearly looking bored as woman after woman approached you. You honestly looked like it didn’t matter to you one way or the other if they spoke to you, but those blue eyes just pulled those women in like you’d stuck a hook in their mouths."
Ryan tilted her head in thought, acting like an idea had just occurred to her. "You know, for a straight girl, you sure were observant. Were you always so interested in your classmates?"
"Funny, very funny, Tiger. You know full well that I was hooked on you from the first day. I wanted to knock those other girls aside and climb those long, crossed legs. I had a mental image that occurred with shocking frequency," she revealed, a flush coloring her cheeks. "I’d see you sitting there, with that confident posture, and I’d imagine myself shimmying up your legs until I was wrapped around your waist. I don’t know why or how I knew this, since I had never done anything like that before, but I somehow knew that I needed to grind myself into you…hard." She said this last word with every bit of her considerable sex appeal, her eyes narrowed, burning into Ryan with a tremendous intensity. 
Ryan’s eyes were wide, and she fanned herself rapidly. "Oh my!" she said in her best southern drawl. "Such thoughts from a fine young lady."
Jamie advanced on her, pushing her until the backs of her legs were pressed up against the heavy kitchen table. "I think I’ve earned a chance at making that fantasy real, don’t you, Sport?"

Some time later, Mia pulled her mouth away from Conor’s questing tongue as she murmured, "What in the heck are those two doing in there?"
"Mmm," he moaned, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "Moving furniture, I guess. Can’t say that I really care."
"Good point," Mia agreed, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed as the warm mouth settled upon hers once again. A flurry of activity caused her to spare a quick glance at her roommates, who were scampering across the living room toward the stairs. Ryan looked like she’d been wrestling a tomcat—face flushed, shirt seriously askew, hair severely tangled. Jamie led the way, tugging at her impatiently. The smaller woman was holding her slacks up with her spare hand, and her face was even more flushed than her partner’s.
As they rounded the corner to climb the stairs, Ryan met Mia’s gaze and waved weakly before she was bodily pulled along by her impatient lover. "Some people," Mia scoffed self-righteously. "No self control!"

"Do you want me to stay over?" Conor asked, when he and Mia were alone.
"Sure, if you want," she said, wanting him to stay, but not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I’m really enjoying kissing you," she insisted, adding another sweet kiss to his grinning lips, "but I’m not in the mood for sex, so if that’s your main reason for staying…" she trailed off.
"Already?" he laughed gently, teasing her slightly swollen lips with the tip of his finger. "It usually takes three or four times with me for a woman to be completely turned off."
She snuggled against him, his muscular body making her feel positively dwarfed. Looking up into his vivid blue eyes she shook her head slowly, giving him a gentle smile. "I’m a long way from turned off, Conor. I just got my period tonight, and I’m feeling kinda yucky."
His large, warm hands slipped down to cup her hips as he pulled her close. "Make you a deal," he offered. "You give me a rain check for sex, and I’ll give you a nice backrub."
"Make it a tummy rub and you’ve got a deal," she decided, enormously pleased that he was so easygoing about being turned down. 
His answer was to start unbuttoning his shirt, her eyes locked onto his chest as his sculpted pecs came into view. 
Taking his hand, she led the way to her bedroom, and smiled at him as she started to remove her own clothes, feeling oddly comfortable with this relative stranger. "Um…I didn’t tell you this on Monday," she began, deciding to be completely honest with him, "but I was really freaked out when that condom broke." He looked up in surprise, and she added, "I wasn’t using any other birth control that night."
His slacks were just halfway down his long, muscular legs, and they remained right there as he sank onto her desk chair, all of the blood draining out of his handsome face. "You…what?" he gaped.
"I wasn’t prepared," she said rather weakly. "I’m going to get on the pill, but I wasn’t at the time. I’m sorry, Conor, I know it was irresponsible of me."
He blinked slowly, shook his dark head a few times and tried to make his mouth move, but he was largely unsuccessful. She came over and sat on one strong leg, liking the way the muscular thigh felt against her bare skin. "Are you okay?" she asked draping an arm around his back. "I’m sure I’m not pregnant, Conor. I took the morning after pill, and I just got my period, so I’m sure I’m okay."
"I’m fine," he said, taking in a deep breath. "It’s been a very long time," he whispered. "I uh…forgot what that felt like."
"When did it happen before?" Mia asked, interested in learning about the experiences that had formed Conor.
"I was 21," he said thoughtfully. "My girlfriend missed her period, and we were panicked. It was a very, very tense week. My whole life flashed before my eyes."
"I’m really sorry if this scared you like that," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
He looked up at her. "You know, it didn’t," he decided. "I’m at a different place in my life now. It wouldn’t be the end of the world for me, like it was then."
"Huh?" she said, her mouth gaping open. "You’d want to what…get married?"
"Yeah. Why not?" he asked, thinking that the idea didn’t really sound all that bad. "I’m 28 now, and I’m pretty close to being ready to settle down. An unplanned pregnancy might just give me the push I need." He was smiling at the thought, a little lost in his musings.
"No, no, no, no, no," Mia stammered, climbing off his lap immediately. "I’m nowhere near being ready to settle down. Jesus, Conor, I’m just 20!"
"So you would have what…had an abortion?" he asked, not liking the sound of that one bit.
"Well, I don’t know what I would have done," she allowed. "Abortion would be an option, but I guess I more likely would have had the baby and given it up for adoption."
Now he was on his feet, glaring at her with wide eyes. "You’d give my baby up for adoption? I don’t think so!"
"It’s your baby when you carry it in your uterus for nine months, Conor. Having an orgasm doesn’t give you the final vote here, ya know. I’m not ready to have a child, and I’m not going to be ready for a long, long time."
He finally allowed his brain to take in her message. "How long a time?" he asked slowly.
"I’m not sure, but I think I’d like to stay single until I’m around 30."
"Jeez, Mia, that’s nine years! I’ll be 37 then. I don’t want to wait that long to start a family!"
Realizing that something was going horribly wrong, she went to her closet and shrugged into a flannel bathrobe, suddenly feeling quite exposed. "Um, Conor?" she asked, sitting down on the bed and patting the surface so that he would join her. "I thought we were just casually dating," she said. "Do you have something more in mind?"
"Well, I don’t know," he decided, looking awkward and a little adolescent. "I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought, but when you talk about having a baby, I start to think about it, and I realize that you’re the kind of woman I’d like to be married to."
She took in a breath, letting this startling information sink in. Deciding to be completely honest she said, "You’re the kinda guy I’d like to be married to," she agreed, placing her hand on his impossibly hard triceps. "In about ten years." Her point was clear, and the determination in her brown eyes made it obvious that it wasn’t up for further discussion.
"So, you’re only interested if this is just a casual thing, huh?" he asked softly, his eyes showing hurt.
"Yeah. That’s all that I can handle at this point in my life, Conor. I just want to play."
"I’ve been playing since I was 16," he said sadly. "I’m a little tired of it."
She scooted up behind him, wrapping her arms around his broad back. "I don’t think this is going to work out, Conor," she whispered. "Maybe we should stop before it gets complicated."
He nodded, knowing that she was right, but not wanting to give her up before they really had a chance to get started. "I guess you’re right," he said. He got up and drew back the covers, motioning for her to get in. "Let me give you that tummy rub."
She looked at him carefully, not sure if he had understood her or not. 
He smiled gently and helped her to her feet, grasping the tie to her robe and unfastening it with a confident touch. Slowly sliding the soft fabric from her shoulders, he guided her to the bed.
Even though she had decided not to sleep with him, there was something so arousing about the self-assured way he was directing her that she decided she’d gladly submit to his touch one last time. She slid in between the sheets, smiling confusedly as he pulled the desk chair over and started to rub her, his large, warm, callused hand making small, soft circles on her tender belly. 
"This is a freebie," he said softly, his deep honeyed voice sending chills up her spine. "I don’t want to make love to you if it can’t go on." His deep blue eyes locked onto hers as his heart clenched in pain at the sadness he felt over not being allowed to get to know her better. "It would be too hard to let you go." 
"Will you hold me, Conor?" she asked hesitantly. "I feel really sad."
"Of course," he smiled, slipping into bed behind her, his strong hand continuing to knead her abdomen. "If I’m still single in nine or ten years will you give me another chance?" he whispered, his voice a little hoarse with emotion.
She placed both of her hands onto his and squeezed gently. "In a heartbeat," she promised, hoping that their romantic paths would one day cross again.

"Hey," Ryan said in greeting when she saw her brother sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen just after five the next morning. "What’s going on?"
"Not much," he sighed, his gaze remaining relatively unfocused. "I have to get going, but…"
He looked so bereft that she approached him and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"She doesn’t want to see me any more," he said, looking remarkably hurt.
"What? Why?" Ryan was more than a little puzzled, thinking that they had looked pretty cozy just a few hours ago.
"She’s not ready to settle down," he said glumly, his shoulders shrugging appreciably.
"And you are? Since when?"
"I don’t know," he said, his hand scrubbing at his closely cropped hair in an irritated gesture. "I just think she might have been the one, Ryan."
"The one?" she asked slowly, thinking she must still be dreaming. "THE one?"
"Yeah." He gave her a scowl, asking, "Is that impossible to believe? I can love someone too, ya know!"
"Hey, hey, don’t get mad at me. I know that you can fall in love, Conor. I just didn’t think you’d had time to do so. I mean, you basically had two dates."
"She fits, Ryan," he said slowly. "I’ve got a list, and she fits it better than any woman I’ve known."
Now thoroughly fascinated, Ryan gazed thoughtfully at her brother, placing her hand on his arm. "Tell me about your list, Conor."
He shrugged and waited a few seconds, obviously trying to determine if he should reveal something so private. He must have decided in the affirmative because he got a very thoughtful look on his face and said, "Okay. First off, she has a smokin’ hot body."
Ryan nodded, her illusions about her brother’s emotional depth flying out the window. "She does indeed. Fabulous ass," she added, just to show that she understood the depth of his loss.
"Wo!" he agreed solemnly. "It feels better than it looks, too. Second, great face. That’s a tough combo, you know. Most of the really pretty girls I’ve dated have something scary wrong with their bodies. Mia’s got the whole package."
"Nice eyes, full lips." Ryan could have gone on, but she didn’t want to compound his pain.
"Right. Third thing. She’s amazingly low maintenance. Her hair looks nice after she just runs her fingers through it a few times. Not much make-up. She looks really great, and she gets that she’s dressing for the guy, you know? I hate those women that spend hours getting ready and they don’t look one bit hotter. What’s up with that?"
"Got me," Ryan shrugged, coincidentally agreeing with her brother on this point.
"Last point—and it’s a big one," he warned. "She’s totally relaxed about sex. She acts like it’s supposed to be fun—not some big religious experience."
"Big one indeed," Ryan agreed. She shook her head slowly, sparing a sympathetic look for her brother. "I didn’t realize that Mia was four for four on your list, Conor. No wonder you’re bummed."
He gazed into her eyes, so similar to his own. "Thanks, Sis. You’re really great to talk to about this kinda stuff."
"Any time, Bro. That’s what sisters are for." Getting up to get the juice she had come down for, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his cheek. "I know she was special, but I guarantee that there’s another woman who can meet your requirements. I mean, there are two of them living in the same house, for God’s sake! How hard could it be to find another?"

Part Six
After a short talk, the coach and Jamie decided that Ryan would not be allowed to practice until the following week. Luckily Ryan accepted this decision and was content to attend the Saturday night game and sit in the stands. The five-game loss was too much for her to bear stoically and she groused about the game the entire time, not even going to the floor to speak to her teammates. Luckily, the exertion took so much out of her that she fell asleep almost as soon as they hit their room, so Jamie was spared any further complaints.

Jamie’s first golf match was on Monday and Tuesday in Oregon, and while Ryan was heartbroken about not being able to attend, she couldn’t miss any more classes. She also thought that she would be able to practice on Monday, and there was no way that she would let the team down. On Sunday afternoon Ryan suggested they take a nap together before Jamie had to leave for her flight. Jamie was a little concerned, hoping that Ryan’s need for naps had diminished, but she accepted the offer just to be close. Even though they had been close physically during the illness, there was still something missing between them—some indefinable spark that their lovemaking provided. 
She had been quite worried when even her blatant propositioning of Ryan in the kitchen a few nights earlier hadn’t resulted in sex. The tall woman had let her climb her body like a jungle gym, even managing to adopt the cool dispassionate look she used to use to lure women into her lair. But as soon as they got upstairs, Ryan had climbed into bed and drifted off before Jamie even got her teeth brushed.
Jamie knew that some intimate contact would give them a little sustenance for their separation, but she didn’t want to rush Ryan, so they took off their clothes and snuggled together for a while. She was nearly asleep when she felt a hand slowly crawling up the inside of her thigh. She turned her head and saw twinkling blue eyes framed by one raised eyebrow and a delightfully crooked grin. "You’re back," she cried as she flung her arms around Ryan’s neck and kissed her deeply.
"I am," Ryan agreed. "I might be a little rusty, but I think I remember how to do this." She slipped her hands down and cupped Jamie’s smooth cheeks, murmuring, "Everything seems to be right where I left it." As Jamie’s thigh lifted and slid around Ryan’s waist her hand snaked downward a few inches, feeling the moist humidity of her favorite spot. "Oh yeah," she whispered. "Everything seems to be in working order."
"Everything works because of your touch," Jamie said softly. "My body is so attuned to yours…sometimes it feels like we’re one."
""It feels like that to me, too," Ryan whispered. "And when you get on that plane tonight, it’s going to feel like you’re taking half of my heart with you."
"Let’s not think about that now, Sweetheart," Jamie begged, placing the tips of her fingers against Ryan’s soft lips. "Let’s just fill each other up with love. That’ll get us through the next few days."
"Your love will see me through all of the days of my life, Jamie," Ryan murmured, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You’re the best part of me."
With a soft smile, Jamie gently corrected her, "No, you’re the best part of me."
Reaching an immediate compromise, Ryan decided, "We’re the best part of each other."
"That I can live with," Jamie agreed. She dipped her head and started to kiss her partner, working on Ryan’s mouth with an unwavering focus. The larger woman seemed lazy and lethargic in her responses, and Jamie realized that she was waiting to be seduced. Always willing to comply with Ryan’s silent requests, she changed her mindset and took the lead, glad to have the opportunity.
Ryan was naturally dominant, and she usually led the erotic dance, but occasionally she just lay back and opened herself to Jamie’s desire. It didn’t happen often--just enough to make life interesting. One of the things Jamie most appreciated about her partner was her versatility, in life and in their lovemaking, and she was grateful that Ryan encouraged her to explore every facet of her own desire. 
Often when Jamie led it was because she was beside herself with need and was completely unable to control herself or wait for her partner to satisfy her. But today they were both just a little tentative, a little unsure of how to touch one another after such a long absence. It had been more than two weeks, and she thought back to their frenzied couplings after she had been in Rhode Island for just a week. Even though this was more than twice as long, she was startled to discover that she wasn’t thrumming with desire. In fact, her need was more to investigate and rediscover the pleasures of Ryan’s body, and she set out to do just that.
Shifting the taller woman onto her back, Jamie crawled up her body until their noses touched. Holding onto Ryan’s face with both of her hands, she tilted her head until her lips were just where she wanted them. She played with the deep pink flesh, trailing the tip of her tongue over them, tracing their shape, their softness. With a slight pressure on the lower lip, she bade them open, smiling gently as they did so. Her tongue slid into the warm space, and she let out a little growl as she was enveloped by the moist heat. 
Ryan’s mouth felt so clean, so fresh and sweet, she was tempted to stay right where she was and just feast upon her lips until she had to leave for the airport. But her desire was beginning to grow now that she was taunting and teasing the pink flesh, and she knew she would have to put out the fire.
Wringing every bit of pleasure she could from the tender kisses, she started to move down, using her mouth to build her lover’s need. It felt like it had been a lifetime since she tasted the firm flesh that covered her neck and shoulders, and Jamie fed hungrily, trying to imprint the sensation on her tongue. 
Her mouth sought out the always-alluring breasts, gasping in surprise when she could pull most of the warm flesh into her mouth, highlighting the dramatic weight loss that Ryan had suffered. Even though the volume had been reduced, the sweetness remained, thrilling Jamie to the core as she licked and sucked at the quivering mounds.
Pausing to linger at the well-defined abs, she sighed when she saw that most of the cushioning layer of flesh had disappeared, leaving a rock-hard belly that was slightly concave. Her tongue traced each depression and dip, and she smiled to herself when she noticed that Ryan was tensing the taut muscles. 
Continuing to move down, she was struck with a desire and moved quickly to fulfill it. She scooted up to the head of the bed, supporting herself with a few squooshy pillows. Tugging Ryan along with her, she spread her legs and urged her lover to nestle into the space she had created for her. 
When Ryan was settled against her, she spent a few moments nibbling on a tempting ear and nuzzling against the smooth neck. "I want to be able to see your body react when I touch you," she whispered. "I need to see your breathing start to increase, watch your breasts rise and fall when you cry out."
"Mmm," Ryan moaned, "you’ve never held me like this when you touch me. It feels nice… intimate."
"I feel intimate," Jamie whispered. "I want to crawl right into your skin and be a part of you."
"You are," Ryan pledged. "You are a part of me."
Jamie's hands couldn’t avoid the perfect breasts that beckoned to her, so she began to gently knead them while she continued to play with Ryan’s sensitive ears. In mere moments the dark woman was moaning softly, her head tossing back and forth against her partner’s torso. The dark hair skimmed across Jamie’s chest, the inky blackness splayed over her fair skin.
"Watch my hands," the blonde whispered. She could feel her partner take in and hold a breath as hands slid down her body, inching towards their ultimate goal. Two pairs of eyes were glued to the small hands as they found their target and Ryan’s legs reflexively spread wide to welcome them.
The breath slipped from Ryan’s lips as a sibilant hiss when two determined fingers slid into her wetness, re-igniting nerves abandoned for too long. Her hands automatically raised and latched onto Jamie’s forearms, ready to redirect her should she lose her focus.
"You feel like liquid velvet," the smaller woman sighed directly into Ryan’s ear. "I’ve missed this so very much."
"Mmmm, me too," Ryan moaned. "Oooo…I’m so sensitive…it feels like it’s been years." Her head was lolling against Jamie’s shoulder, but she couldn’t stop from staring at the hands that possessed her so completely. Seeing her lover’s hands caress and stroke her so intimately was driving her arousal, making her feel like she couldn’t hold back for long. "Almost there," she gasped out in warning.
"Relax, Baby," Jamie soothed, picking up the pace just slightly. "Just relax and let yourself go. I’ve got you."
Ryan felt herself crest and hurtle over the edge, her orgasm hitting hard as Jamie’s arms cradled her. The physical sensations pulsed and thrummed through her body for long minutes, but the emotion continued to build as she felt all of her defenses crumble as she welcomed her partner back into the place in her heart reserved especially for her. 

Feeling more anxious than she could ever remember being on a golf course, Jamie tried to limber up before the start of her first intercollegiate golf match. She had slept poorly, partly from anxiety, and partly from Ryan’s absence. She wasn’t used to traveling on the economy plan and was a little surprised at their meager accommodations. The hotel was decent enough, but the sheets were rough and remarkably short for the queen sized bed. Each time she woke during the long night, her feet were completely exposed by the top sheet that refused to stay tucked in. Even the towels had been rough, as though they had been washed in strong soap with a healthy dose of bleach. Come on, Jamie, she had chided herself repeatedly. The place isn’t that bad—it’s probably as nice as any business travel place in the country. If you’re going to be a member of this team, it’s about time you learned how the other half lives. Or other ninety-nine point nine percent, as Ryan often reminded her.
She was concentrating hard on stretching out her tense back when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned, letting out a squeal of delight as she came face to face with her mother, who was grinning widely.
"Mom!" She threw her arms around the smaller woman, startling her a bit with the enthusiasm of her greeting. "God, I’m glad to see you!"
"Oh," Catherine sighed, "I was a little afraid I’d be intruding, Sweetheart. I don’t want to upset your concentration."
"No! Not at all!" Jamie cried, relieved to have some companionship. "I actually do better when someone I love watches me play." She looked a little sad as she said, "It’s been hard not to have Ryan here."
"I’m sure it has been, Sweetheart. I assume that you were even more reluctant to leave her after her illness."
"Yeah, it was tough," she admitted. "She’s better, and I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually, but this really took a lot out of her. I’m worried about her not taking care of herself while I’m gone."
"Oh, Jamie, she grew up nice and strong all on her own. I think she’ll be fine for two days."
Blushing slightly, the younger woman confessed, "I just miss her, Mom. It’s so hard to sleep without her."
An image flashed in Catherine’s mind of the many years she had shared her bed with Jim and how calming it had always felt to know that he was close by. Even when things were going poorly between them, they had often bridged some of the distance by holding each other in the night. Shaking her head to dispel the longing, she put on a bright smile for her daughter. "One more night, Dear. I know you can get through another night."
"Yeah," she smiled sheepishly. "I guess I can. Are you staying over?"
"No, Honey, I have a board meeting tomorrow that I can’t get out of. I’m taking the last flight out tonight."
"Maybe we can have dinner?"
Catherine thought about the offer for a moment, and then politely declined. "I think you should spend some time with your teammates, Honey. I’m just here to support you, not monopolize your time."
Leaning over slightly to compensate for the two-inch difference in their heights, Jamie placed gentle kisses on both of her mother’s cheeks. "You’re a very, very good mom," she said softly. "I’ve gotta go now, but I want you to know that your coming today means a lot to me."
"It means a lot to me to see you participate in something that gives you pleasure, Honey. I know you’ll do well."
Giving her a hug that squeezed most of the breath from her lungs, Jamie added another kiss and grabbed her bag to walk to the first tee.
Catherine watched her go, shaking her head in wonder as she considered the athletically built young woman. There was a confident, rolling muscularity to her stride, and that confidence extended to her carriage. She looked healthy, and happy, and quietly determined, and Catherine thanked God for allowing her to share this moment with her child. 
She pulled her tiny cell phone from her purse and speed-dialed a number, waiting for the machine to pick up. "Hi, Ryan, it’s Catherine. I’m in Oregon, watching someone you love play a little golf. Call me on my cell if you’d like a live course update. Oh, and Ryan? Make sure you eat a good lunch. Jamie’s orders!"

Catherine diligently walked the course, staying well in back of the foursome to remain out of Jamie’s peripheral vision. She knew what to do because she had attended most of her daughter's high school matches and Jim had advised her on the proper etiquette to allow Jamie to concentrate.
After the group finished the ninth hole, they were once again close to the clubhouse, and Catherine stopped in to buy a bottle of water. When she returned to the course, she had to rush to catch up. Cutting across an empty fairway, she saw a familiar figure half-lurking behind a pine tree. Marching up to him, she tapped her husband on the shoulder and demanded, "What are you doing here?"
"The same thing you are," he snapped, obviously miffed at having been spotted. "I’m here to support my daughter."
"Uh-huh," she said suspiciously. "Rather hard to do when you’re hiding behind trees, isn’t it?"
"Look Catherine," he said, in a tone of voice that made her name sound harsh and unattractive, "I know she doesn’t want to see me now, but someday she will. I don’t want her to look back at this time and regret that we didn’t share it. Just because she’s angry with me doesn’t stop me from trying to be a good father."
She was actually rather impressed by that statement, and she decided to be honest about her feelings. "That’s quite thoughtful of you, Jim. I hope things do work out that way and that you can someday share your pride with her."
He looked down the fairway, spotting Jamie’s compact form as he said, "She’s really something, isn’t she?"
"Yes, she is," Catherine agreed. "We’re both lucky…luckier than we deserve," she couldn’t help but add.
He looked at her for a moment, tilting his head as if he was going to ask her a question, but then he stopped and just sighed. "I want to watch her putt. This is a hole she can probably make birdie on."
"Okay," she said. "I think it’s wise not to let her see you, Jim. At this point it would probably upset her game."
His shoulders slumped perceptibly as he admitted, "I know that, Catherine." He left without saying goodbye, and she felt the same old twinge of sadness that settled over her whenever they saw each other lately. It felt like a combination of nostalgia, longing, and the stark realization that whatever they had once shared was now centered around one 21-year-old woman.

Jamie won the match decisively, and she was ebullient when Catherine caught up with her outside the locker room. "I have to call Ryan and leave her a message," she bubbled.
"Oh, I’ve spoken to her three times already, Honey. She called me right before she left for volleyball practice. It was obvious that victory was assured at that point, and she told me to tell you that she loves you and is very proud of you."
"That is so sweet!" Once again, Jamie threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tight.
"She loves you, Dear, of course she’s proud of you."
"No! It’s so sweet that you called her to keep her informed." Giving Catherine her third rib crusher of the day she said, "I couldn’t have picked a better mother!"
At that moment, Catherine could have floated back to San Francisco, having never felt more connected to, or more proud of, her child.

As Catherine settled into her seat on the plane, the steward approached and asked, "Mrs. Evans? There seems to be a slight error with the seat assignments. It appears as though Mr. Evans is sitting in the other row. Should we move him back here?"
Marvelous! she thought, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes. Well, we don’t speak in San Francisco, maybe an enforced confinement will do the trick. "That would be lovely," she heard herself say.
As usual, Jim was the last one on the plane, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw that he was assigned the seat right next to his wife. "I thought you’d be staying over," he said, looking uncomfortable.
"No. I just wanted to be there for her first match. That was enough."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking less confident than she had ever seen him. "Umm…should I ask to be moved?"
"No. I’m perfectly willing to be civil for an hour or so. How about you?"
Giving her a wry grin he advised, "I think I can handle it, Catherine. I’m paid $450 an hour to be civil to my adversaries."
"Well," she said, letting out a sigh. "I hate to think that’s my role, but if you do…"
He slipped into the spacious leather seat and gave her knee a hesitant pat. "No, I didn’t mean it that way. There’s no need for us to be adversarial."
She nodded, and turned her head slightly to gaze out the window. Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear him say, "Do you remember the first time I took her to the golf course with me?"
A gentle, fond smile settled on her face as she asked, "That depends," she said. "Do you mean when you used to make me ride in the cart, carrying her in her infant seat? Or when you bought her first little set of clubs?"
"Oh, I wasn’t that bad," he chuckled, but quickly nodded and said, "I only took you with me a couple of times when she was an infant. I just wanted her to get a feel for the experience."
"She certainly did," Catherine said. "I can still see that determined little face all scrunched up into a scowl, trying to mimic your swing. I swear, those were the world’s tiniest golf clubs!"
"Some of my fondest memories are of the two of you, sitting on the grass, watching me warm up on the driving range." He bit his lip, looking like he was holding back tears as he choked out, "I thought we’d always be together."
She wasn’t sure if he meant him and Jamie, or the three of them, but whatever his intent, she felt a deep pang of sympathy for him. Through all of their troubles, through all of Jim’s betrayals and broken promises, there was a glimmer of love that still remained, and she let that flickering emotion show as she reached over and squeezed his hand. His head dropped to her shoulder and reflexively she reached up and smoothed her hand through his hair. They stayed that way for a long while, neither wanting to give up the tentative, fragile connection.
She continued to stroke his face as he whispered, "Will she ever forgive me, Cat? I can’t…I can’t bear it if she’ll never speak to me again."
"She’s hurt and she’s angry, Jim. But she has a very generous heart. If you can apologize and make her believe that you’ve learned that you were wrong…"
He sat up immediately, recoiling against the far corner of his chair as he said, "But I’m can’t! I’m not wrong!" He was blinking in surprise, obviously confused by her suggestion.
"You were and you are wrong, Jim. If Ryan was the worst choice in the world for her, you were still wrong. But she’s not! She’s a wonderful young woman, and if you’d only give her a chance…"
He glared at her, his lawyerly intimidation showing. "I’ll never give her a chance. She’s conniving her way into Jamie’s heart, but I will prove that she’s not who she says she is. I will prove it, Catherine!"
She leveled a gaze at him, unable to see one shred of the idealistic, earnest young man that she had married. "You will prove to Jamie that you don’t trust her or her decisions. That is all that you will prove, Jim, and if you can’t see that, we’re wasting our time discussing this."
"I should have known that she’d win you over, too." His disgust was evident as he sulked in his chair, looking more like his inner four-year-old than a man who had logged forty-six years on the planet. "I’m sure you all get along famously, don’t you, Catherine? You probably have all sorts of fun times together that only encourage Jamie!"
"Well, I certainly hope that’s true," she replied. "I have a very good time with them both. And yes, I do try to encourage Jamie to be who she is, even when it’s not my choice for her."
"So while I’m trying to make a point, to save her from making this mistake, you’re going behind my back to help her ruin her life!"
"Jim," she said as calmly as possible. "I don’t have a secret agenda. I’m not withholding things from you."
"I just bet you don’t," he snarled. "You’ve always had your secrets, Catherine. I’ve never known what’s going on in your head."
It was difficult to make Catherine lose her temper, but Jim was pushing the boundaries of her patience. During their long marriage she had almost invariably kept her opinions to herself, but she was changing and was not afraid of his censure any longer. She looked at him carefully and said, "All right, Jim, you want to know my secrets? I have one that I’ve harbored for a few years now." She leaned over until her eyes were gazing directly into his and said, "When you act like a spoiled child, I sometimes fantasize about strangling you in your sleep." She turned in her seat and got the attention of the steward, saying pointedly, "Mr. Evans would like to change seats. Can you accommodate him?"
The irate man unbuckled his seat belt and stood, not sparing another glance at his wife. As the steward directed Jim back to his previously assigned seat, he gave Catherine a sympathetic look. "Sorry," the young man mouthed, obviously having heard some of the argument.
Ahh, just what I’ve been missing in my life. Public arguments on airplanes. Could we be any more clichéd?

Catherine waited until all of the other first class passengers had exited to even stand up. She walked down the long concourse, idly contemplating the roller-coaster ride she had been on in the previous several months. There was so much noise that she almost didn’t hear her cell phone ring, but the faint sound finally reached her ears. "Hello?"
"Your ride is waiting at the arrivals level," Ryan’s smooth voice announced.
"Oh, Ryan," she said, continually amazed by the thoughtfulness of her young daughter-in-law, "you really shouldn’t have."
There was a long pause, and Catherine thought she might have lost the connection, but the voice asked quietly, "Why not? We’ve never had a member of the family take a cab or a van from the airport. Why would I treat you any differently?"
She smiled at the phone, clearly able to see the earnest young face formed into a puzzled look. "There’s not a reason in the world, Ryan," she finally said. "Yours is a family I’m proud to be a part of." 

When Catherine slid into the Lexus, she greeted Ryan with generous kisses to both of her grinning cheeks. "My daughter did pretty well for herself, Ryan O’Flaherty. You are a gem."
"Why, thank you, Catherine," she beamed. "Now I just have to convince your husband of that."
"That will be a longer journey," Catherine admitted, choosing not to share Jim’s presence in Oregon with the young woman. "My husband has a very, very difficult time admitting that he is wrong." She gazed out the window pensively, and Ryan left her to her musings after sparing a glance and seeing how focused she was. "He wasn’t always like that, you know," she commented. "He was always determined, but he wasn’t so headstrong when he was young. I think he developed that trait working as litigator. You know, Ryan, when you spend all day never giving an inch, it’s hard to remind yourself to turn that off when you go home at night."
"I could see that would be true," Ryan agreed, hoping that Brendan’s new girlfriend didn’t share that trait with Jim.
Catherine sighed and reached into her purse, extracting a neat, tan leather notepad. "Let me tell you all about Jamie’s match," she said, checking her notes.
Ryan shot her a smile and admitted, "I don’t care about the golf, Catherine. I just care about her. How did she seem?"
Catherine returned the smile and put the notebook away. "I don’t give a whit myself, Ryan. That’s why I had to take notes." She cocked her head and considered her daughter’s state of mind. "I’d say that she was nervous at the beginning. Understandably, of course."
Ryan nodded, having expected as much.
"By the second hole though, her normal attitude reappeared, and she seemed more and more confident as the day went on. It looked like she was having fun, even though she was concentrating very hard. She seemed very happy, Ryan. Very proud of herself."
"Excellent!" Ryan smiled. "Now that’s the kind of golf coverage I’m interested in!"

When Ryan returned home, the house was dark and seemed larger and emptier than it had ever been. She walked around, feeling lost and a little anxious as she turned on more lights than they usually used. As if by telepathy, the phone rang, and she was pleased to hear her oldest brother on the line.
"Hey, Sis, got anything going on tonight?"
"Uh…no, Jamie’s gone you know."
"Oooh, that’s right," he said, acting as is if that fact had skipped his mind. "Well the boys and I were going to go get some Italian combos, and I thought it might be fun to come over to your place to eat them."
She nearly burst into tears at her brother’s thoughtfulness, knowing that he was only doing this to cheer her up and make sure she was taking care of herself in Jamie’s absence. "If you really want to, that would be great," she said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
"We really want to, Ryan," he said sincerely. "We miss you!"

Ryan gazed across the room. Her oldest brother was engaged in a spirited conversation with their cousin Frank who was, as usual, making an emphatic point with the base of his beer bottle. The butt of the brown bottle was poking into Brendan’s chest, and Ryan could see his jaw tense as he fought the urge to push Frank, and his teaching aid, away. She knew that Brendan never liked to let anyone know they were getting to him so she decided to go rescue him, impulsively deciding to discuss a little matter that had been on her mind recently. "Hi, guys," she smiled as she approached.
"Hey, Ryan," Frank said, "I’m just trying to refresh your brother’s mind here. When did our fathers emigrate? 1964 or 1965?"
She cast a pointed glance to her right, spotting her father not four feet away. "Hmm…I’m not sure, Frank. Why don’t you ask my dad while I borrow my brother here for a minute. I need a little help with something."
"Good idea, Ryan. You’re gonna owe me a beer, Brendan," he decreed as he went to settle the bet.
"Lord, does that guy ever give up? We would have been there for an hour!"
Ryan smiled, knowing that Brendan was every bit as determined as Frank, only he just made his points in a quieter fashion. "Eh, Frank’s Frank," she said, knowing that analyzing her cousin’s foibles was completely unproductive. "Do you mind coming upstairs with me for a minute?" she asked. "I wanna talk to you about something."
He gave her a slightly puzzled glance but agreed, following her up the stairs to her bedroom. "Nice space," he said appreciatively as he looked around.
"Thanks. It’s all Jamie’s stuff, of course, but it feels like home to me now." She sat down on the rolling desk chair and Brendan sat on the love seat.
"So, what’s up?"
"I’ve uh…I’ve been wondering about something, Bren, and I wanted to ask you to clear something up for me."
"Sure. Shoot." His face was composed and his expression was open and curious, as it so often was.
"Remember when I told you that I was gay?"
His face immediately reacted, his brow furrowing a little. "You mean when I asked you if you were gay," he corrected gently, always a stickler for accuracy. "That afternoon will forever be etched into my memory," he said with a small chuckle. "I don’t know which one of us was more nervous."
"I’d say it was a tie," she smiled in response. "Talking to your older brother about your sex life is no picnic when you’re 17."
"Oh, and it’s a real day at the beach when you’re a 23-year-old guy. I was afraid to talk to girls I was sleeping with about sex!" he laughed. "How do you think I felt about talking to you? You were my baby sister, and I still thought of you as a little girl."
"I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for taking that risk," she said, giving him a grateful smile. "I’ve never felt more cared for."
He blushed, glad that his sister was appreciative of his efforts, but puzzled about why she was bringing it up now. "No problem, Ryan. You know I’d do anything for you."
"I do," she said sincerely. "And the same goes for me, too." She paused for just a minute, searching his face as she asked, "You told Da before I did, didn’t you?"
His blush deepened as he realized that he had been caught. "Uh…" He scratched his head, looking guilty until he finally said, "Yeah…I uh…thought it would go better for you if he had time to react first. I thought he’d be okay with it—and he was—but I didn’t want there to be a chance that he’d react badly."
She nodded, her long-held suspicion finally confirmed. "Bren, I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity, but I’m going to return the favor."
"Huh?" he blinked. "Who’s gay?"
"No, not a gay thing this time," she said. "But what I have to tell you is a little shocking nonetheless."
"I’m almost 30," he reminded her. "I’ve gotten much better at talking about personal things."
"Good," she smiled. Drawing in a deep breath she decided to just go for it. "Da’s going to make an announcement soon. He’s going to announce that he’s getting married."
Before she could complete her statement, Brendan’s face blanched and his mouth dropped open, his eyes so round that they nearly popped out of his head. "He what???!!!"
"He’s getting married," she repeated. 
"My God, Ryan, he’s never had a date! Is this an arranged marriage? Is he helping somebody get a green card?"
The poor man was clearly grasping at straws and Ryan sought to get the whole story out. "Let me finish, Bren. I’ll tell you the whole thing."
He sank back against the cushions, looking like he’d been struck in the chest with a heavy weight. "Go ahead," he muttered.
"He’s going to marry Aunt Maeve," Ryan said, completely startled when Brendan leapt to his feet and strode to the corner of the room, his arms crossed tight against his chest. His head was shaking violently, seemingly trying to make the information leave his brain.
"No, no, no, no, NO!!"
She got up and approached him from behind, feeling his coiled body twitch when she touched him gently. "It’s true, Bren, and it’s obvious that this has really upset you, but please don’t let Da know."
He turned and glared at her, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "This is wrong, Ryan, it’s just wrong!"
"No, no it’s not, Bren. I was freaked out at first, but over time…"
"NO! I will never think this is okay, Ryan." He strode past her, evading her grasp as she tried to stop him. He sank onto the love seat once again and dropped his head into his hands. "Everything’s going so well!" he moaned. "Why do they have to screw things up? This will destroy the family!"
"No it won’t, Bren. Not if we don’t let it!" She was shocked at how intense his reaction was, but she was terribly glad that she had guessed right in deciding to tell him early.
"I can’t accept this, Ryan. I’m going to find Da and tell him so." He got to his feet and she grabbed him by the shirt, refusing to let go until he heard her out.
"Look, Bren, if you want that kind of responsibility you go right ahead, but I want you to know that if Da knows you’re opposed, he’ll break it off right now. He’s already told me that our happiness was more important than his and Aunt Maeve’s." She could see a flicker of doubt pass across his face, and she followed up, "Don’t you love him enough to let him have some joy in his life?"
He looked as though she had slapped him, physically recoiling as he tried to steady himself. "How can you even say that? You know how much I love Da! And Aunt Maeve is like a second mother to me. This isn’t about not loving them, Ryan, it’s about stopping them from tearing the family apart!"
"Brendan, you’re being irrational about this," she insisted, almost as agitated as he was. "This will not harm the family. They just fell in love. How can that be wrong?"
He glared at her for a moment, his lips pressed together so tightly they were white. "You’re okay with this? You approve of this?"
"Brendan," she soothed, "I’m the last person in the family who has the right to tell other people who to fall in love with. I know what it’s like to choose a partner that people could be offended by. I’ve got to tell you, Brendan, my life would have been destroyed if the family had not supported my choice. We can’t do that to Da!"
He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking like his legs couldn’t hold him upright any longer. "Shit, shit, shit," he moaned, looking utterly defeated. "You know I’d never intentionally hurt either one of them."
"I promise you, Bren, they would be hurt. Deeply, deeply hurt. They would call this off and would probably never try again. Is that what you want for Da?"
"Of course not," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "I want him to be happy."
She crouched down in front of him to be able to see into his eyes. "Then you have to let him find happiness in his own way."
He stared at her for a long minute, the emotions flying across his handsome features as he did so. "How did you know this would upset me?"
She laughed softly, getting to her feet again. "Because it upset me. You and I are the drama queens of the family, you know."
"Gee thanks," he said dryly. "I don’t think anyone has ever called me a queen before."
She ruffled his dark hair, assuring him, "I just mean that you and I are the most emotional ones. Conor won’t care, and Rory won’t let anyone know if he cares."
"Good point," he smiled grabbing one of her belt loops and pulling her down onto his lap to give her a gentle hug. "I’m a little jealous that he told you first," he grumbled.
"Mmm, he didn’t tell me," she informed him. "I saw them together, and it was pretty obvious."
He tilted his head, his eyes wide as he asked, "You saw them…?"
"I just saw them holding hands and kissing a little in the park, Bren. Nothing
to permanently scar me," she chuckled.
"When are they going to tell us?"
"Soon. Probably when Rory comes home."
He sighed deeply and said, "This is going to take some work, but I promise I’ll have my act together by the time Da’s ready to make the announcement. Thanks for telling me, Sis." 
"Hey, we drama queens have to stay together," she reminded him, earning a swat to her exposed seat.

When Ryan came bounding up the stairs on Tuesday night, she barely paused to greet her partner on her way to the kitchen.
Immediately getting up to follow her, Jamie asked, "Honey? Did you happen to forget that I’ve been gone for two days? Hey, what are you holding?"
"Ice bag," Ryan admitted, taking a quick glance in the mirror over the small writing desk in the corner. She had decided to try to dump the evidence before Jamie caught up with her, but looking at the deep blue smudge under her right eye, she realized that was folly.
"Why do you have an ice bag? Come on, let me see."
Ryan turned and gave her partner a sheepish grin as the smaller woman bit back a gasp. "You got hit in the head? We’re taking you to the hospital. Come on, let’s go." 
Jamie was already grabbing her keys and looking for her wallet when Ryan grasped her by the shoulders and said, "Chill, Baby. I got hit in the eye—no big deal."
"Ryan," she said sternly, "Your head is too fragile to take any chances with. I think we should at least get a CAT scan."
"Jamie, Jamie," Ryan soothed, "the trainer took a look at both of us, and he knows my history. This is no big deal…really."
"Ryan, do you swear that you’ve told the trainer about all of your head injuries?"
"Yes, Dear, I swear that I did. I love to play, Jamie, but I love to think even more. I swear that I won’t jeopardize my ability to do that."
She sighed heavily, deciding to at least hear Ryan out before she hustled her off to the hospital. "All right. Now tell me how this happened."
"Hard to say. Grace and I were going for a ball and somehow our feet got tangled up. The top of her head hit right on the bone here," she gingerly touched the spot that the bruise sprouted from.
"Is Grace okay?"
"Yeah. She took more of a knock on the head than I did, but she seemed fine."
Removing the ice bag from Ryan’s hand, Jamie went to the freezer and filled it with fresh cubes. She brought it over and tenderly applied it to the sore spot, flinching along with Ryan as contact was made. "You need a lot of nursing during any given season, don’t ya, Sport?"
"Yep. I never did learn that moderation thing."
"True. Though sometimes that’s a good thing," Jamie decided, thinking that she’d keep the entire O’Flaherty package, even if some parts drove her mad.

They spent the entire dinner hour chatting about Jamie’s experiences in Oregon, and Ryan was glad that she hadn't allowed Catherine to give her a play by play, since Jamie was now doing so. She was so glad to see the bubbling enthusiasm on her partner's face, however, that she would have been fascinated to hear Jamie read the phone book aloud.
"So everything was great, huh?" Ryan asked when Jamie was finished.
"Yeah. Pretty great." She paused for a moment and admitted, "It was hard not to have my father be there. He’s never missed an important event in my life." After a few moments she added, "One time he flew all night just so he could be at some silly Christmas pageant that I was in."
"Maybe he’ll come around soon, and he can see some of your matches," Ryan mused.
"Yeah. Maybe. But if he gets the nod to fill Senator Sommers' seat, he’ll be in Washington. I think we’ve wasted our little window of opportunity."
"Never say never, Babe. You’ve got spring season, too."

The phone rang after Ryan went upstairs to study, and Jamie was pleased to find her mother calling to invite them to an art opening for one of her favorite young artists. After a brief conversation, Jamie promised to call back after she had discussed it with Ryan.
She had been studying in the library so she ran upstairs to speak to her partner. Ryan was sitting at her computer, the colorful screen saver reflecting off of her round, silver reading glasses. Jamie was used to her ability to concentrate but this was pretty intense even for her. Ryan had no awareness of another presence in the room, so Jamie quietly sat down on the bed to allow her to finish her thought. While she waited, she indulged in one of her favorite pastimes. She absolutely loved to watch Ryan when she wasn’t aware that she was being watched, and this evening provided the perfect opportunity.
Ryan’s eyes were focused like lasers on the abstract geometric patterns that scrolled across her screen, and Jamie wondered what could possibly be going through her mind to captivate her attention so fully. But she knew that Ryan’s work was then--and would always be--indecipherable to her, and she had slowly come to accept that as a fact of life.
At the start of the term Ryan had assured her that she would not have to work too much at night, and that had generally been true. But every time Jamie had to study, Ryan looked almost giddy with pleasure as she raced up to her computer for an evening of whatever it was that she did.
Ryan’s head started to move slowly up and down, causing her hair to trail across her shoulders as it did so. She softly muttered, "Yes, yes, yes!" as she touched her keyboard, and the screen saver disappeared to be replaced by an elaborate diagram in some form of mathematical notation. Her fingers began to fly across the keyboard while she continued to mumble "yes!" occasionally. Jamie could feel the excitement pouring from her body, and the room was nearly alive with the crackling energy that she generated. She worked away for at least ten minutes with Jamie watching so quietly that she was practically holding her breath.
Ryan slammed her fingers down for the last few keystrokes and sat back in her chair as she let out a full, satisfied breath. She laced her hands behind her head and started to stretch when Jamie softly said, "I could honestly throw the TV away if I could watch you work every evening."
Ryan nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around and stared at her partner in astonishment. "How long have you been here?" she sputtered.
"Umm, I’d guess about 20 minutes," Jamie grinned. "You were staring at a blank screen when I came in. Then you obviously had some kind of breakthrough, and I certainly wasn’t going to disturb you at that point. Besides," she said with a sexy leer, "I was starting to get hot just watching you."
Ryan flopped down on the bed and rested her head in her partner’s lap. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for not disturbing me. This one little issue has been bothering me all week, and I finally think I’ve resolved it. But it wasn’t very firmly fixed in my mind. I could have lost it if you had spoken to me."
"Is it something you can share?" Jamie asked, willing to try to understand Ryan’s work, but realizing that the odds were slim that she could.
"Ahh, no," she said regretfully. "But God, I wish I could! When I figure out something that excites me this much, I really wish I could share it with you."
"Yeah, sometimes I feel really left out too," she admitted. "I want to share everything with you, and I hate that I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing or why it’s important."
"There’s a part of me that wants to get a little stroking sometimes," Ryan admitted, "and I honestly have never gotten any for my math stuff."
"Honey, you know how in awe I am of your abilities," Jamie protested.
"I know, Babe, and I’m not complaining or anything. But because I have this gift, I feel like people think it’s easy for me. And sometimes I’d like some praise for how hard I work," she said with an embarrassed little blush. "But I recognize that it’s hard to compliment me for things that you don’t understand, so I guess I just have to feel satisfaction for my own efforts."
"Do you think that’s why you have always focused so much on sports? I mean, everyone understands sports and they can immediately sense your contribution."
Ryan rolled over onto her good side so that Jamie could reach the side of her head for the scalp massage she was still bestowing. "I don’t know. But it might be a part of it."
"How can I show you how proud I am of you? Can you think of anything?"
"Not really," she conceded. "It’s funny. This bothered me when I was young but I got over it. It’s never come up again until now. I guess your opinion means so much to me that I just want to know you’re proud of me. Kinda childish, huh?"
"Not at all!" she cried. "It’s terribly important that you praise me for my golf game and for my cooking and all of the things that I really put my soul into. I would hate to have you not be able to share your feelings about those things with me." She ran her fingers down Ryan’s face and slowly teased her lips with her fingertip. "You know, even though I have no idea what you’re doing, I can feel the energy pouring off you when you’ve really got something important figured out. Would it help if I showed you how that made me feel?"
Ryan rolled onto her back and smiled up at her partner with pleasure. "I think it might make up for years of neglect," she said with her sexy crooked grin firmly in place.

Jamie spent a solid hour showing Ryan just how proud she was of her. They were both too exhausted to even brush their teeth after their vigorous lovemaking, and they were mere moments from sleep when the phone jerked them both back into full wakefulness. "Shit!" she cried. "It’s my mom!"
She reached across Ryan’s body and fumbled with the receiver, dropping it into the tangled sheets where it took a full minute to retrieve. "Hello," she coughed out through her dry mouth.
"Something tells me that you forgot me and that I’m calling at a bad time," Catherine said. "Go back to bed, Dear. You can call me tomorrow."
"No, no," Jamie insisted. "It’s easier to decide when I have her right here. Can you hold on a minute, Mom?"
"Sure, Honey."
Jamie placed the receiver on her bare tummy and asked, "Do you want to go to an art opening with my mom tomorrow night? She wants to take us to dinner afterwards."
"Love to," Ryan lazily replied, but Jamie knew that would be her answer to just about any question at the moment.
"It’s a date, Mom. We’ll meet you there at seven."
"Great, Honey, and I’m really sorry I disturbed you. See you then. Oh, give my love to Ryan."
"She’s had all the love I can manage for one night!" she declared. As she replaced the phone she sat up abruptly and slapped herself in the head as she said, "That was my mother!"

When Ryan came home the next night, Jamie immediately knew that something was bothering her. It was hard to describe the subtle differences in Ryan’s body when she was troubled, but Jamie had never been wrong and she doubted that tonight would be different. "Hey," she said when the grumpy-looking woman dropped her gym bag onto the floor of their bedroom. "What’s wrong?"
Ryan gave her a quick kiss, her lips curling into a wry half-smile. "I thought my father kept a close eye on me. He’s positively neglectful compared to you."
"Is that a real smile or does it bother you?" Jamie was gazing at her carefully, not wanting to smother her partner.
The smile grew wider as Ryan assured her, "I love that you’re so attuned to me, Jamie. I uh… I guess I’m a little embarrassed about what’s bothering me, and I had hoped to knock some sense into myself before I got home. Guess I wasn’t successful."
"Wanna tell me? You don’t have to, ya know."
Ryan started to undress after looking at her watch and noticing they only had a half hour to get ready to meet Catherine. "Come into the bathroom while I shower. I’ll tell you what’s bugging me, but you have to promise not to think I’m a prima donna." 
Jamie nodded somberly, trying to hide the grin that was itching to escape. "I promise," she insisted.
Ryan hopped in the tub, with Jamie shaking her head at her partner’s odd habits. The dark woman always got into the shower with the water turned off, then started to adjust the temperature with the ice-cold water running onto her feet. When she had it at the near-scalding temp that she preferred, she switched the valve—letting the remnants of cold water in the showerhead hit her full-blast. She spluttered and spit as the water quickly turned warm, but it was obvious that she hated that first cold blast. "Why do you insist on turning the water on that way?" the smaller woman asked. "Why not adjust it, turn the showerhead on, and then get in?"
"Where’s the challenge in that?" Ryan asked, cocking her dark head in question.
"Never mind." Jamie knew this was one mystery she would never solve, so she decided to give up without a fight. "Now, tell me what’s troubling you."
"Okay," Ryan sighed. "It’s about the Putnam competition that I’m gonna be in. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but this is a team, rather than an individual, competition." 
"No, I don’t think you told me that," Jamie informed her.
"Well, it is," Ryan went on. "Cal can only have three people on the team, even though there are dozens of people who want to compete. It’s a little unfair, since Cal sends the same number of people that a school with 1,000 students sends, but that’s the breaks."
"I’m guessing that you weren’t chosen," Jamie said, seeing the disappointed expression that had settled onto Ryan’s face.
"No, I wasn’t, but that’s not what’s bugging me," she said. "The guy who’s in charge of the team seems like a decent guy, but I don’t know him. He’s given us a couple of practice tests from previous years, and I did really well on them. Professor Skadden said that the results would only be one factor in his decision, but I think it should be a very big factor. Anyway, he made the announcement today, and afterwards, I asked all three guys that he picked how they had done. I beat two of them--by a lot," she added glumly. "That pissed me off, so I waited to talk to Skadden." She shot Jamie a look and said, "I was about tenth in line to complain."
"What did he say?"
"Well, he tried to put it into terms that didn’t sound sexist, but he basically said that he preferred men on the team because they were more predictable. He said that women were ‘occasionally mercurial’, which I took to mean that my menstrual cycle might make me stupid on the day of the test."
"You’re not going to let him get away with that!!"
Ryan tilted her head back and let the hot water hit her open mouth, another quirk that Jamie found beyond odd. Retrieving her toothbrush and paste from the holder she had installed on the wall, she began to brush her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration. After finishing, she wiped the water from the glass door and looked at Jamie for a moment. "I think I am going to let him get away with it, as a matter of fact."
"But why? That’s blatant discrimination, Ryan!"
"Yes, and not just on that front. He also said that he didn’t want an athlete on the team—that we’d have divided loyalties. The final straw is that he’s decided to have practice every weekday from four to six. Even if he chose me, I’d have to decline because that’s when volleyball practice is." She shot Jamie another look and said, "I think that’s why he set the time for then…just so I didn’t have a valid complaint."
The smaller woman started pacing around the bathroom, the confined space not giving her much room to maneuver. "This makes me so mad! That competition was important to you!"
Ryan turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her body. "It’s okay, Babe. I just don’t want another fight right now. Even though I can’t be on the team, I can still compete. I’ll just do my best to show him that he made a mistake," she said, a defiant glare in her blue eyes.
"But I thought you had to be on the team…" Jamie said, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Even though the teams are the important part, there are also individual competitions and awards. I can enter as a Cal alternate. There can be as many alternates as want to compete, but of course, our scores can’t help the team." Giving Jamie a damp hug she said, "The good news is that the practice sessions are optional if you’re not on the team, so that’s one less thing I have to commit to. I think I’m going to see if some people want to practice with me. Maybe I can get one of the grad students to help prepare us."
Jamie gazed up at her and said, "I can see why you don’t want to fight this jerk right now, but doesn’t that just allow him to keep doing it?"
"Yep. But fighting sexism in the math department is more than I have the stomach for, Jamie. I’m just going to do my best, and show him that his prejudices are only hurting the team…and by extension, himself. I think that would go farther than getting the administration involved."
Jamie didn’t agree with her partner’s philosophy, but she recognized it was her fight and she had to conduct it as she saw fit. "Okay, Ryan. If that’s how you want to attack this, you’ve got my support. After you kick ass, we’ll hand out tampons instead of cigars."
"That’s my girl," the taller woman smiled, her mind conjuring up the image of Jamie doing just that.

Part Seven
Jamie assured her partner that since this art opening was in SOMA, it was perfectly acceptable to wear her black silk T-shirt, pleated black gabardine slacks, and black leather baseball style jacket. Deciding on a more femme look for herself, Jamie chose a little black crepe dress with a heavy maroon paisley scarf draped around her shoulders.
As Jamie assessed her partner’s appearance, she considered that perhaps sinister wasn’t a great choice for this evening. With her black eye, the dark outfit made her lover look a bit like a gangster, but it was too late for her to change at this point. "You look very nice, Honey," she said. 
Ryan fussed at herself in the mirror for quite a few minutes before she turned and glumly replied, " I look like a mob enforcer who had a bad day."
"Honey, half the people there want to look like dangerous women with sordid pasts. They’ll all be jealous!"
That got her a smile and a kiss for her efforts, even though Ryan knew she would be stared at. When they arrived, they spotted Catherine immediately, and Ryan noted that her mother-in-law looked sensational, as usual. She was also wearing a little black dress, but hers was a little longer than Jamie’s.
"Wow! You look wonderful, Catherine," Ryan said appreciatively as she considered the stylish woman.
"And you look just perfect for the occasion," Catherine joked fondly. "Everyone will wonder what dangerous exploit harmed that beautiful face."
"Believe me, I’d rather be inconspicuous," Ryan said, somewhat tired of always standing out in a crowd.
"Speaking of inconspicuous, Cassie’s mother is here tonight, girls. I think we’d do well to avoid her. The last time I checked, she was in the other room of the gallery, so let’s stay in here for the time being."
"Works for me," Ryan said. "If she’s anything like her daughter, meeting her could not possibly be a pleasant experience."
After they had spent a few minutes chatting, they decided to look at the exhibit. Jamie snagged champagne for everyone when the waiter passed by, and Ryan grabbed a few tidbits from every canapé-laden tray that she could spy.
Ryan was drawing more than her usual attention, many patrons doing a double or triple take when they noticed the remarkably tall woman with the black eye. When one matron had the temerity to blatantly stare, Catherine marched right up to her and said, "I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name."
The woman gave her a puzzled look, having just noticed her, her attention focused on Ryan. "Pardon? I don’t think we’ve met."
"Do you know my young friend?" Catherine continued.
"N…no," the woman admitted, now looking very flustered.
"Then why don’t you stop staring at her," she said, with a feigned smile. "It’s really quite rude."
As Jamie watched the scene, she noticed a waiter in the vicinity, and dashed across the room for more champagne, her mother’s impetuous confrontation having rattled her nerves. Catherine strolled back over to Ryan, a pleased grin on her face. Ryan tossed her arm around the woman and said, "You really are something. Whenever Jamie does something that takes me by surprise I immediately think of you, and it becomes obvious where she gets it from."
"I just can’t suffer pompous fools any longer, Ryan. It’s funny," she mused. "I’ve spent most of my life being concerned with what others thought of me. My mother beat that lesson into my head my entire youth. I can still hear her saying, ‘It’s important to make a good impression, Catherine.’ But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that you can’t live your life based on the opinions of others. I’m trying to allow only my own opinions and those of the people closest to me to matter."
Ryan gave her a squeeze and said, "That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day."
Catherine leaned into the hug and dropped her head onto Ryan’s broad chest. "You’re one of the people whose opinion I care about."
Ryan bent slightly to place a kiss on the crown of Catherine’s head. She rested her good cheek against the same spot as they took comfort in the gentle embrace. As she lifted her head she caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar figure. Is that…? she thought, but Jamie’s return distracted her, and she filed the question away for the time being.
Two glasses of champagne on her chronically empty stomach brought out Ryan’s playful side. After Catherine was dragged away by a woman who just had to introduce her to the artist, she surreptitiously followed Jamie into the bathroom. There was only one stall, with a small sink and a mirror lining the other wall. She turned the water on to give her partner some privacy, but she did not otherwise announce her presence. Jamie emerged from the enclosure and returned her lusty look. "You look like you’re looking for trouble," she purred as she slid her arms around Ryan’s neck. 
"And you look like you could give me all I can handle," the dangerous looking woman replied, backing the blonde up against the door.
Jamie stood between her spread legs and began to kiss her with a slowly escalating passion. She knew Ryan was on a short fuse these days, so she tried not to go beyond her comfort zone. Luckily, Ryan’s playfulness was greater than her lust, and they began to tickle and pinch each other as they wrestled against the door. A woman came up to the restroom and started to push the door open, but she drew back in surprise when she heard the shrieks of laughter and rough thumps on the door as one or the other of the occupants banged against it. They didn’t sound like children, so she assumed it was a couple sneaking into the rest room for a little tryst. Knowing many of the people at the party, and loath to miss a bit of gossip, she lurked around outside waiting for the pair to emerge.
After banging around playfully for much longer than was wise, Ryan came to her senses and straightened her clothing, offering to leave first in case anyone had heard them. Jamie gave her a kiss for her gallantry and sent her on her way.
Ryan had traveled no more than three steps outside the door when she caught sight of the face she had seen earlier, and her suspicions were confirmed as she recognized the woman from the gym with whom she'd had a delightful, and quite remunerative, encounter at the Mark Hopkins hotel. Wracking her brain, she finally came up with the name. "Hi Laura," she said, extending her hand.
The woman glanced around quickly to make sure no one saw her even speaking to the dark woman. "Hi," she said as she tried to get a better look at her in the dark hallway. She pointed at Ryan’s bruised face and asked, "Jealous husband?"
Ryan gave her a smile as she said, "No, nothing so interesting. Just banged heads with someone while I was playing volleyball."
"God, it looks like it hurts," the older woman said, looking at the discoloration closely. "Do you have a good doctor?"
"It’s no big deal. I’ve had more black eyes than I can count. It should be fine soon."
Catherine came around the corner looking for her companions, and she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who Ryan was chatting with. Both Ryan and Laura turned at once, and she pasted on a smile and approached. "Hello, Laura," she said smoothly. "Have you two met?"
"Uh…yes…I …uh, pardon?" she asked weakly, futilely trying to dematerialize.
Ryan decided to rescue her, so she informed Catherine, "Laura and I know each other…" she started to say, as Laura looked like she was going to faint. Nonetheless Ryan continued, "from the gym. I didn’t have the chance to work with her, but we have some mutual acquaintances that we were just catching up on."
Now Laura was beginning to panic for her young friend. It was obvious that Catherine had lost her rational mind by bringing this woman to a public event, but she was a sweet kid and Laura didn’t want Catherine to cause a scene when the other woman emerged from the bathroom. To her amazement, Ryan seemed perfectly calm and at ease with the situation. I guess this sort of thing happens to her all of the time, she thought to herself. Casting another quick glance at Ryan, Laura mused, She looks even better now than she used to at the gym. I wonder if I could get a few minutes with her in the bathroom later. I’ve got plenty of cash in my wallet.
A moment later Jamie emerged from the bathroom, and she immediately walked over to the group. Laura’s eyes bugged out as she waited in vain for the fur to fly. To her astonishment Catherine said, "Laura Slocum, let me introduce you to my daughter Jamie."
Daughter! She’s doing her daughter!!
"Jamie, Laura and I serve on the boards of some of the same charities. You’ve heard me speak of her many times."
Jamie extended her hand and wondered about Laura’s nearly limp grip. She knew she had seen the woman before, but she could not place her. Catherine finally filled in that blank by saying, "Ryan tells me that Laura goes to your gym. Perhaps you’ve seen her there."
"Perhaps," Jamie said neutrally while she tried to avoid looking at Ryan. 
They conversed for another moment or two before Laura excused herself to use the facilities. Catherine speculated, "She was acting very odd tonight. I wonder if she’s all right."
"There is a bug going around," Ryan said helpfully.
As Catherine led the way back to the exhibit, Jamie pulled Ryan down to whisper, "Maybe she has the O’Flaherty flu!"

Catherine was considering buying a piece of art, and her companions were offering their opinions when a tall, immaculately put together woman sidled up and said, "Jamie, Catherine, how good to see you!"
Jamie looked far from happy as she replied, "Mrs. Martin, how are you?"
Catherine seamlessly introduced Ryan to the very interested looking woman. "Ryan O’Flaherty, this is Laura Martin. Cassie’s mother."
"Good to meet you," Ryan said with her darkened eye and intentionally evil-looking smile.
Noticing that Laura was staring at Ryan’s injury, Catherine sighed and explained, "Ryan had a little accident yesterday."
"I’m sorry to hear that," Laura replied although her face did not reflect her sorrow. She wore an expression that was a mixture of prurient curiosity and blatant mockery of the young woman, and Catherine could feel her temper begin to flare. "Cassie tells me that you have a tendency to make people angry. Did you finally push someone too far?"
Catherine’s uncharacteristic friskiness continued unabated as she gazed at her former friend and whispered, "I wouldn’t antagonize her, Laura. She’s killed people for less." With that, she placed a hand on the backs of each of her companions and guided them across the gallery. 
When they were safely hidden behind a partition, Jamie stared at her mother in open-mouthed shock, while Ryan laughed helplessly. "W...w...why did you tell her that? You know how she loves to gossip!"
"I might as well give her something good," Catherine said reasonably. "At least now when it gets back to me I’ll know where it came from!"

Late that night when they were snuggling in bed, Ryan could not stop shivering. She finally got up and put on a long sleeved T-shirt and a pair of thick wool socks. "Don’t you need any clothes?" she asked Jamie, puzzled that her partner looked perfectly comfortable.
"No, Baby, I’m fine. It doesn’t seem cold to me." As Ryan hopped back in bed Jamie asked, "Was it odd to run into that woman from the gym?"
"Yeah, it was," she sheepishly admitted. "You know, of all the casual sex partners that I ever had, she’s the only one I regret."
"Why? Because she’s so much older than you?"
"No, of course not," Ryan said quickly. She looked at Jamie for a moment and said, "I think I was afraid of becoming like her some day."
Jamie sat up immediately and stared at Ryan as she tilted her head. "How, Honey?"
"She was just there for sex—she made that clear. But it struck me that not only didn’t she want emotional involvement with me, I doubt she had it with anyone else in her life, either. She just seemed cool and distant. Maybe I felt like I’d lose my ability to be intimate with someone if I continued on my path," she said softly. "It scared me."
Snuggling into Ryan’s body, Jamie let herself feel the bone deep connection that they had slowly developed. "That will never, ever happen to you, Ryan. You are totally, lusciously, fabulously intimate. And we’re going to spend the rest of our lives getting closer and closer."

Ryan was relaxing at her family home on Friday afternoon, Coach Placer having given them a rare day off. "Calm down, Duffy," she urged her wildly barking dog as she ran up the stairs to answer the ringing doorbell. "Jeez, you act like every visitor is the devil himself!" Without bothering to look to see who it was, Ryan flung open the door, a wide smile on her face, that quickly froze before morphing into a grim, wary expression. "Jamie’s not here," she said when her eyes landed on her father-in-law.
"I know that," he answered brusquely as he brushed past her. "I’m here to see you."
"Me again?" she asked, her anger at the man peeking out a little. "Your last visit sure didn’t get you want you want. Trying for best two out of three?"
He turned and fixed her with a look that was almost unreadable, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that reminded her so much of her partner that it shocked her into silence. "If you ever find yourself in my position, I assure you that you’ll understand how difficult this has been." His head shook slowly as he looked around the neat, modest home.
Ryan stood behind him, turning her head to survey her home as he did. She saw a tidy, organized space, completely devoid of any attempt to decorate in the traditional sense. The rooms looked like they had been furnished to stand up to a significant amount of rough use, and in fact, they had been. The fabrics were sturdy and man-made, the carpet the thin-piled industrial variety. Family photos were the main decoration, and they littered every bookcase and horizontal surface. A woman's touch was largely absent, even the colors looking like they were made to appeal to a masculine taste. Letting the images roll around in her mind, Ryan fought with the small inner voice that mocked the home her father had lovingly created for her and her brothers, knowing that Jim Evans’ servants enjoyed a much more opulent lifestyle.
"This is the longest I’ve ever been away from her." The words came from just a few feet in front of her, but she could barely hear them, his voice was so soft. "Is that her… your… room?" he asked, jerking his head towards Martin’s bedroom.
Taken aback by his odd demeanor, Ryan shook her head. "No. We…uh…our room is downstairs."
He cocked his head, torn between the business he had come to attend to and the deep longing that had hit him the minute he'd entered this unfamiliar space. "Can I see it?"
"Why…uh…well, sure, I guess so," she said, having no idea what was going through his mind. With Duffy right on her heels, she led the way, stopping uncertainly in the center of her room, watching Jim pace slowly around the perimeter.
He took in their bed, the center visibly sagging from years of use. Ryan had never told Jamie the history of the piece, but the bed had once belonged to her parents. After her mother died, her father had been unable to sleep in the bed he had shared with his beloved wife, the memories of their nights together giving him horrible insomnia. Eventually, he consigned the bed to the basement room and bought a new one for himself. Since the original had been a wedding present, the bed she and Jamie slept on was a full thirty years old, something that she knew would horrify her partner. The comforter was nearly as old, but the sheets were a more recent vintage, no more than six or seven years, if she recalled correctly.
As he leaned over and fingered the thin, faded pillowcase he mused, almost to himself. "You think you know her, but you don’t. She doesn’t even know herself." He gave Ryan a long look and said, "Maybe you don’t want her money." Looking away, he turned back to the bed and allowed, "Maybe you do have some pride, Ryan." A long, heavy sigh issued from his lungs as he added, "Either way, it really doesn’t matter. If you want her money, I’ll see to it that you don’t get it. If you don’t take the money that she’ll want to spend on you, she’ll eventually get tired of living like…this…and she’ll abandon you."
Unable to hold her tongue, Ryan said, "It’s not things that make her happy, Jim. If you really knew her, that would never cross your mind."
Laughing softly he said, "Ahh, the confidence of youth." Walking around the room he looked at each item of furniture, noting that no two pieces had any stylistic connection to each other. "So things don’t mean anything to her, eh Ryan? Then why does she insist that her mother buy her a new set of hand-woven linen sheets for Christmas every year? Why did we have to have our butter and fresh cheeses overnighted from France once a week? Why does she have most of her dresses custom made? Why did I just see a bill for over $25,000 for the little shopping spree that my wife took her on during their Newport trip?" Noticing the glimmer of surprise in the vivid blue eyes he sneered, "You didn’t think that she actually lived on that $2,500 a month that I give her for her allowance, did you?"
The look on Ryan’s face revealed that was exactly what she thought, and Jim knew that he had set the hook. "Did she ever tell you about her 20th birthday present?" Ryan shook her head, still reeling from the details of Jamie’s spending that she had known nothing about. "We thought we’d have a small party at our home, you know, just Jack and her grandfather, but Jamie insisted that she wanted a memorable day. Of course, since we give her anything that she wants, we acquiesced to her wishes."
He stood in the room, looking very smug, waiting for her to ask him to finish the story. She did not, crossing her arms over her chest, waiting for him to complete his little game. Realizing that she was not going to rise to the bait, he continued, "She wanted to have dinner at Alain Ducasse in Paris, a Michelin three-star restaurant," he added, since he knew she would not recognize the name. "Her birthday falls in the middle of the term, so she didn’t have much time and we had to take the Concorde from Washington. In essence, Ryan, my little girl wanted a $40,000 dinner for her birthday, and that’s exactly what she got. I defy you to consider the facts and tell me that she doesn’t care for things."
For just a moment, Ryan allowed herself to be carried away by his arguments. Images of herself and Jamie in an opulent home, surrounded by servants, started to make her heart beat faster, and she had an irrational panic that he partner would, over time, require a more and more lavish lifestyle to be happy. To avoid having to look Jim in the eye, she walked to the far corner of the room, trying to collect her thoughts. Her eyes slid up the bookcase, falling upon two framed pictures. All at once, it hit her, and she blinked slowly, surprised that she'd had even a moment’s doubt. Lifting both photographs, she extended one in his direction, waiting for him to accept it.
He gave her a slightly puzzled look, but gazed at the photo, smiling involuntarily as he did so. He, Jamie, and Catherine, all dressed very stylishly, smiled into the camera. They were sitting in a very elegant restaurant, all holding crystal flutes filled with what looked to be champagne. An array of dishes lay before them, the beautifully prepared food just waiting to be consumed. Jim had left his chair and was nestled between his wife and daughter in order to fit into the field of vision of the lens. One arm was wrapped around each woman, and both blonde heads were inclined slightly towards him, both women wearing nearly identical, obviously studied smiles.
"Is this the dinner that you’re speaking of?" Ryan asked as he continued to gaze at the photo, memories of that special day flooding his mind.
"Yes, it is," he said absently.
"What do you see?" Ryan asked, causing him to jerk his head up and stare at her.
"Is that a trick question? I see my family having a lovely time—a time that Jamie obviously feels was very special."
"She does," Ryan agreed. "I didn’t know the details, or how much that dinner cost, but she did have a very nice time that night." 
Ryan handed him the other photo, and he reached out to grab it. Before she released it she asked, "Where does she look happier?"
He took the picture and gazed at it for a moment, blinking in surprise as he did so. Jamie and Ryan were sitting on a boulder overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the smaller woman nestled between Ryan's legs, leaning back in a very relaxed manner against her chest. The looks on their faces spoke of almost painful happiness, their smiles stretching their faces past the point of comfort. Jamie’s head was tilted to the right, Ryan’s to the left, causing them to nest one atop the other. Ryan’s left arm was tucked around the smaller woman’s waist and both of Jamie’s arms rested upon it, both women seemingly very used to and comfortable with each other’s bodies. 
Ryan’s voice broke his concentration when she said, "This trip required eight months of hard work, every bit of determination that she possessed, and a ton of confidence in herself. It didn’t cost me a dime to help her have this, but having her with me was absolutely priceless. Which trip," she asked, shaking both photos in his face, "do you think will linger in her memory? Which trip changed her life? How can you tell me that things are more important to her than this?" 
"Over time," he intoned coldly, "water finds its own level. A few rustic experiences cannot take away the fact that Jamie is the product of her upbringing, and she will eventually want to return to the lifestyle she was born to, Ryan. Then what do you do?"
Ryan was puzzled. It seemed almost as if Jim finally saw her for who she was, but that didn’t make any sense to her. It appeared that he understood that she was uncomfortable with Jamie’s money, and worried that it would become a wedge between them. Try as she might, she could not understand how or why he had changed his mind about her, but she had a very bad feeling about it.
As if he could read her mind, he extracted a manila envelope from his leather portfolio and handed it to her. With intense self-satisfaction he watched as she opened it and allowed the contents to slide out into her hand. With a furrowed brow she sorted through the typed document, trying to understand what it was and what it meant. While still trying to accomplish this, she came upon a series of crisp, sharp 16x20 inch photos, all of her. Thumbing through them, she saw pictures of herself with Jordan, with Jenny, and with some of her other teammates. In every picture she was kissing or touching a woman in what looked to be an intimate way. She recalled each situation, and knew that each instance represented a completely harmless interaction, but the scenes did appear to show that she was quite familiar with each of the other women.
"Wow," she said slowly. "Pictures of me kissing my friends hello. This is shocking—shocking, I tell you!" Her tone was derisive, biting, and Jim recoiled a bit at it.
"The pictures are damning enough, Ryan," he sneered, "but the report is the icing on the cake. Jamie will finally see what I’ve been telling her all along."
Ryan didn’t even attempt to read the report, knowing there was nothing factual in it, and feeling confident that Jamie would not be tricked into believing lies about her. She slapped the papers against her open hand a few times, shaking her head in disgust. "I guess this is where I fall on my knees and beg for a payoff, huh?"
His eyes narrowed, his lips moved into a grim line. "Well, what do you want?" he asked in challenge.
She sighed heavily, her eyes drooping into a weary, resigned expression. "The same thing I’ve always wanted. For you to be the father that she deserves." She gave him such a sad, wistful look that he was once again taken slightly aback. "I want you to love her enough to trust her—to know that even though she makes mistakes, they’re her mistakes, and they’re absolutely necessary for her to grow up. I want you to love her enough to let her make her own way in the world, even though it isn’t what you would choose for her." Her face gentled into a fond smile as she admitted her true desire, "I want you to be half the man that my father is. That’s the very least that she deserves."
Fighting his anger, he grabbed the photos and the report from her hands and roughly stuffed it back into the folder. "We’ll just see, Ryan. We’ll just see." 
Turning on his heel, he strode across the room, stopping when she plaintively asked, "Did you ever love her, or was she always just something to control?"
He faced her, his entire body tingling with rage. Every impulse called out for him to hit her as hard as his could, to knock that self-possessed expression off her face and at least blacken her other eye and mar the lovely features that his daughter was so obviously attracted to. But he knew that would only give the woman a leg up on him, and he would never, ever do that. "No father ever loved his daughter more than I do," he thundered, making the hackles rise on Duffy’s neck. "I told you I’d do anything for her and I meant it!" He waved the report in Ryan’s face, somewhat deflated when she laughed softly, her dark head shaking the whole while.
"Anything except what she wants—what she needs. Yeah, you’ll do anything for her, all right. Just as long as it fits your image of who she is. Yeah, that’s love!"
Kicking the face of one of the low cabinets so viciously that his foot crashed through it, Jim spewed forth a string of curses and wrenched his foot out of the hole he had created. Limping, he stormed up the stairs, slamming the door so roughly that it rattled on its hinges for seconds after he left. 

It was early, just five o’clock, and Ryan knew that Jamie would likely not arrive home until seven. Her anxiety was so intense that she felt like crawling out of her skin, and she tried to think of an activity that would keep her occupied until her partner arrived. Dialing the phone, she was dismayed to find no one home at Caitlin’s or her aunt’s home. Well, there goes my best chance at a distraction, she mumbled to herself. The late afternoon sun was still strong in the west-facing windows and she felt compelled to be outdoors, even though she had no real destination.
Wandering aimlessly, she walked up and down the hilly streets of her neighborhood, finally finding herself in the middle of Castro, on Church, not really knowing how she got there. Shrugging her broad shoulders, Ryan made her way into the Pilsner Inn, a place that she had not visited in well over a year.
Entering the space, she smiled at memory of just a few years prior, when the bar had been populated with no more than a handful of men who looked like they had been there so long that they had actually become one with the banged-up bar stools. The place had been claimed by several groups in the last few years, now populated by a medium-young crowd of good-looking men. Ryan liked the place well enough now, had actually liked it a little more when it was full of pierced and tattooed guys, and it seemed like a friendly, relaxed place to spend an hour or so in.
The bar was nearly deserted, as it should have been this early on a Friday night. She approached the bar, and made eye contact with the bartender, who was watching the early evening news. "Hi. Irish whiskey. What have you got?"
"Mmm," he pondered. "Jameson’s, and Laphroig."
She smiled, assuming he had not been tending bar for long, since Laphroig was as Irish as Sean Connery. "Jameson’s, neat. Water back."
He delivered her drink quickly and she took both glasses onto the warm, still sunny patio, which was completely empty. Grabbing a chair, she straddled it, sipping her drink for a long while, enjoying the warmth of the whiskey as it slid down her throat. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but the bartender appeared and inclined his head, silently asking if she wanted a refill. With her shrug of acceptance, he departed, returning a few minutes later to set another pair of glasses in front of her.
Her stomach was still so tense that she felt like she had done 1,000 sit-ups, the muscles gripping painfully. The alcohol had actually served to relax her enough that she was starting to feel her equilibrium return, and she leaned back in the chair to let the setting sun warm her face. A swish of motion caused her to look up and see the bartender place a third round in front of her. "You look like you could use it," he whispered, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.
Boy, when they start handing out free drinks it’s time to head home, she mused, tossing the whiskey back in one long swallow and leaving a generous tip for the bartender.

In the nearly two hours that she had been gone, the house had filled with the various members of her family, and when she entered, Martin, Brendan, Conor, and Jamie were all sitting at the dining table, obviously waiting for her. Rushing in, she ran into the kitchen to wash her hands, offering up a mumbled, "Sorry about that. I went for a walk and lost track of time."
When she returned to the table, she was met with puzzled glances from everyone, Duffy included. She held her breath as she brushed her lips against Jamie’s cheek, hoping to keep her partner from smelling the whiskey. Additional kisses and additional breath-holding nearly made her pass out, and after kissing her father she turned her head to draw in a massive breath.
When she took her seat, a gentle hand reached under the table to grasp her thigh. Jamie asked softly, "Are you all right?"
Ryan nodded briefly, giving her the most sincere smile she could fabricate. "Yeah. Fine. Just walking around thinking. You know how I get."
Jamie nodded, unsatisfied with the answer, but deciding to wait until after dinner to grill her recalcitrant partner.
Dinner passed with the routine family conversation, Ryan not participating to any significant extent. Jamie shared slightly worried glances with the ever-vigilant Martin, neither wanting to press the issue at the moment. They had nearly finished the meal when the front doorbell rang, startling everyone slightly—Ryan and Duffy severely. Conor hopped up to answer as Jamie watched the blood drain from her partner’s face. "Sweetheart," she urged, a very worried look on her face, "what’s going on?"
"Jamie, it’s for you," Conor called, walking back into the room. "Some guy has a delivery that you have to sign for."
Shooting another look at Ryan, who had paled even more, she got to her feet and went to the door, her partner right on her heels. A rather rumpled young man, his bicycle propped against the porch railing, extended a triplicate form towards Jamie, and instructed, "Sign on the ‘X’."
She did so and accepted the envelope, turning to Ryan as the man left. Waving the item towards her partner, she asked, "I take it that you know what’s in here?" The same wary look that had covered her face so many times during their big fight was once again firmly affixed to Jamie’s face, and Ryan knew that she had to take her downstairs and tell all. Grasping the smaller hand, now clammy with tension, Ryan descended the stairs to their room, assuming her family would forgive their abrupt departure.
Ryan sat on her desk chair, thinking that her partner would choose the bed or the love seat. Instead, she was surprised to find the smaller woman astride her lap. Less than a second passed before Jamie sat up straight, a look of pure astonishment on her face. "Ryan, you’ve been drinking!"
"Yeah, yeah I have," she admitted. "It’s been a tough afternoon, Jamie." She dropped her head against her partner’s chest and breathed in her reassuring scent, saying, "I think we’d better call your mom. I have a feeling that we need a family conference."

Try as she might, Ryan could not persuade her lover to wait for her mother to arrive before she opened the envelope. After Ryan gave her a general idea of the contents, the blonde gave her a fiery look and said, "I thought you had learned your lesson about trying to protect me."
Ryan’s dark head shook slowly, a sad look on her face. "I’ll never stop trying to protect you, Jamie, but I have learned not to try to keep things from you. I swear that’s not what I’m trying to do, Babe. I just want your mom to be here too. This is going to upset you both, and I’d like to get it all out in the open at once. That’s all."
Blinking slowly and regretting her tone, Jamie said, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just more anxious waiting than I could be from seeing the contents of this. Is it okay if I look now?"
Ryan gave her a small nod, doubting that her partner was correct but acceding to her wishes. Holding her breath, she waited in tense silence while Jamie tore open the envelope, letting the pile of photos drop onto the desk. She sorted through them, a small frown furrowing her forehead. "Wow, what an exciting life you lead," Jamie mused dryly. Tossing the picture of Ryan kissing Jordan aside, she added, "Little does the photographer know that when you’re serious about kissing a girl, you always lead with your tongue."
Chuckling slightly at her partner’s attempt at humor, Ryan nuzzled her face into Jamie’s chest. "Well, they always say to present your best attributes first," she mused thoughtfully.
Once all of the pictures had been tossed aside as so much rubbish, Jamie started to read the enclosed document. A folded slip of paper dropped onto the table, and she picked it up, reading, 
Jamie, 
I know this will be hard for you to accept, but I think this evidence makes it clear that not only is Ryan incapable of entering into a committed relationship, she has already been unable to remain faithful in your short time together. I don’t know how old that young girl is, but I’m certain that the child welfare authorities would be interested in looking into this if you so choose.
I fully expect that you will be angry with me at first for having this investigation done. I just hope and pray that you eventually realize that it’s Ryan who deserves your wrath, not me for merely pointing out her betrayals.
Love always,
Daddy
Looking up at Ryan with pain-filled eyes, the smaller woman tossed off, "Well, what did you do? Kill Jon Benet Ramsey?" At Ryan’s light chuckle, Jamie added, "This should be fascinating." Taking the report in her hands, she climbed off Ryan’s lap and began to pace across the floor, reading to herself as she did so. 
The report started off dealing with every aspect of Ryan’s financial situation, even going so far as to include information on Martin’s salary and the average monthly expenditures of the family. As expected, the report cast not a single aspersion on anyone in the family, stating that the entire O’Flaherty clan was beyond reproach when it came to money. The author of the report gave commentary on his findings, and he clearly stated that Ryan seemed like the kind of woman who was not overly swayed by money, and seemed like a very honorable person financially. That’s my girl, Jamie smiled, happy--and a little surprised--that the investigator had taken his time to learn the truth about her partner.
Next came Ryan’s academic career and again, nothing of surprise was found in that area. All of the investigator’s sources agreed that Ryan was incredibly gifted and could pursue a career in any of ten fields. The investigator commented that Ryan’s ability was surpassed only by her hard work, and once again Jamie was pleased with the commentary. Jeez, is a lot of sex the only thing this guy found? I could have told him that!
"I’m going to go upstairs and tell Da that we’re okay," Ryan said, breaking into Jamie’s reverie. "We are okay, aren’t we?" she asked slowly, a wary look in her eyes.
"Of course we are," Jamie assured her, gracing her with a wide smile.
Ryan took off and Jamie bent her head to concentrate again. The first two sections had been about ten pages combined, and it looked as though the rest of the voluminous report concerned Ryan’s sexual history. Oh boy, Jamie mused, now Daddy knows about every little dalliance my poor sweetie has ever had. She paused for a second thinking, In the long run, he’ll probably be really jealous. Ryan got hot girls without having money or power!
The report started right at the beginning, giving a condensed but relatively accurate review of Ryan and Sara’s encounter. My God, who told this guy this stuff? I’m amazed that he got the details pretty correct! Sara would flip! 
Next came some gossip about the women that Ryan had started dating in high school, giving scant detail, but allowing plenty of room for innuendo. Jamie started flipping through the pages almost idly, realizing that some of the information came from people who obviously bore some sort of grudge against her partner. Even so, most of the information was not very damaging, and for that Jamie was grateful. Even when they don’t like you, they can’t find much mud that will stick, can they, Buffy?
When she got to a page concerning Tory Knight, Jamie slowed and started to read every word. This is a new one, she mused, her eyes growing wide as she read the details. She spent a long time on the few pages that concerned Tory, then skimmed through the recitations of Ally, Alisa, Carolyn, and all of the other casual and semi-permanent buddies that Ryan had told her about. When she was finished, she returned to the pages on Tory, still deep in thought when Ryan brushed by her.
The dark woman tossed a long leg over her desk chair, straddling it backwards, as usual. Blue eyes peeked out from long bangs and asked, "We still okay?"
Jamie nodded, not quite as enthusiastically had she had before Ryan had departed. The perceptive woman noticed the difference and rolled her chair around until she could read over Jamie’s shoulder.
"Tory Knight," she mused aloud, shaking her head a little as Jamie turned her head to lock eyes with her. "The name sounds familiar…"
Wordlessly, Jamie handed her the report, watching Ryan’s rapid eye movement as she speed-read the several pages, her face visibly paling. "Oh, my God," she murmured, handing the report back to Jamie with a shaking hand. "I had no idea!" She got up from her chair and went to her window, looking up at the bright moon. After several long minutes had passed Jamie interrupted her reverie.
"What didn’t you know, Ryan?"
Turning to face her partner, the dark woman blew out a breath and revealed, "Well, hardly any of it." She ran her hands through her hair, settling it as she straightened her shoulders and said, "I’ll tell you everything I know."
Jamie perched on the edge of the loveseat, tilting her head in anticipation.
Taking another breath, Ryan began, "I met Tory at the gym. I liked her—we hit it off, and we got together a few…well, quite a few times," she admitted. "I always went to her house, like I did with everybody I saw, but one time she insisted that we had to go to a motel—just for a little spice, she said. I didn’t think much of it, until one afternoon—we always met in the afternoon—we were in her apartment, and we’d been…at it for a long while. We must have looked like the wrath of God, and we were both pretty exhausted. Obviously we had fallen asleep, because we hear this noise, and she grabs me and shakes me really hard, and starts throwing my clothes at me. I heard a man’s voice calling out, 'Tory, Tory,' and I realize that I’m not supposed to be there."
Jamie’s eyes were wide, and Ryan wryly agreed, "Yeah, I felt like a deer in the headlights, too. She lived on the third floor, so there was no way I could go out the window. Luckily, the apartment ran down a long hall, and we could hear him go in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen. She told me to go into the next room, so I dashed next door, stark naked, holding my clothes and shoes." She rolled her eyes, still amazed at the lengths she went to have sex with relative strangers. "I opened the door and ran in and started to get dressed, only to step on some little toys that were littering the floor. I almost screamed in pain, but I managed to keep my mouth shut." She shook her head, slightly disgusted with herself. "Shit, Jamie, she had a kid. Not only was she married, she had a kid."
"I know," Jamie agreed, having learned that from the report. "What happened, Honey? Did her husband find you?"
"No," Ryan said, shivering in memory. "He went into the bedroom and obviously found her trying to make herself presentable. I could hear his voice starting to get louder and louder, and I took off and ran out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t even have my shoes on," she recalled. "I must have run five blocks barefoot, with my underwear stuffed in my pocket. Damn," she breathed out wearily, "that was so fucking stupid."
"Did you ever speak to her again?"
"No," Ryan admitted. "She paged me later that night, but I didn’t return it. She must have paged me twenty times in the next few days, but I just couldn’t face her. I was chickenshit," she admitted, coloring a little as she said this.
"How old were you?" Jamie asked, not having noticed this detail in the report.
"18," Ryan said quietly. 
"How old was Tory?"
The dark woman shrugged, her shoulders lifting perceptibly. "Dunno. Maybe 30…hard to tell. Everybody looks the same when you’re 18. They all just look older."
Jamie got up and slid her arms around her partner, reassuring her by her warm presence. "It’s okay, Love. You did the best you could."
"Crap, Jamie," the taller woman sighed. "Do you think he divorced her just because of me? I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to have my ex-husband take my child away like that." She looked like she was about to cry, but Jamie tried to remind her of the reality of the situation.
"I can tell this bothers you, but Tory hid a lot of things from you. She was much older, and she had a responsibility to either be honest or set things up so her husband and child weren’t impacted by her actions. You were pretty blameless here, Love."
"I still feel like crap," Ryan muttered, walking back to the window. "I might have been the cause for her divorce and for her losing her child. And I was too much of a chicken to even talk to her! How self-centered!"
"Every 18-year-old is self-centered," Jamie soothed. "Some of us grow out of it. You did," she insisted. "You did your best, Ryan. Try not to let this bother you."
Ryan sighed, then took in a deep breath, trying to rid her mind of the image of Tory sitting in her apartment, her husband and son both gone.
Jamie broke into her musings by saying bitterly, "I know that Daddy thinks what you did is the equivalent of his behavior. It’s not," she snapped. "You made a reasonable mistake." She looked up into Ryan’s deep blue eyes and said, "I know you’d never have sex with someone if you knew they were married."
Ryan swallowed, her gut tensing appreciably. With a heavy sigh, she looked at her lover and told the truth. "That’s not so, Jamie," she said softly. "I have had sex with women that I knew were married."
Flopping down onto the bed, Jamie blinked slowly, trying to get her mind around this. "You…you have?"
"Yes, I have. I’m not proud of it, but I have." Her lips were pursed, and she looked quite somber as she said, "I’m sorry to disappoint you, Love. I know how you feel about marital commitment."
"But why, Ryan," she begged. "Why would you do that? I know how you feel about marriage. Why?" She looked like she was about to cry, and Ryan deeply regretting causing her lover any more pain this evening. She knew that Jamie was justifiably disappointed in her, and she had to admit that she was disappointed in herself.
"I don’t really have a good reason. If a married woman approached me, and I was certain that she’d done it before and was going to do it again, I sometimes agreed to a little fling. I reasoned that I didn’t cause the problems in her marriage, and that the problems wouldn’t go away if I held back." She shrugged, repeating. "I told you, I don’t really have a good excuse. All I can say is that I regret having slept with married women, especially now that I see what the aftereffects can be even in a marriage that has long-standing problems."
Jamie pulled her close, dropping her head onto Ryan’s chest. She sighed deeply as she admitted, "I wish I didn’t know that you had done that."
"I wish I hadn’t done it," Ryan agreed fully.
Giving her a squeeze, Jamie reminded her of the promise she had made many weeks ago. "I told you before that the past was past. It’s buried between us. Let’s let it go."
"Can you do that?" Ryan asked, timidly.
"I think so. I don’t like it, but I think I understand your logic at least. The bottom line is that you learned something from it, and even if we weren’t together, I doubt that you’d ever do it again."
"No, I’m certain that I wouldn’t," she agreed, her heart starting to beat normally once again. "I thought I respected marriage before, but now that I’m committed to you…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Now I understand how sacred the vow is," she said quietly. "It’s hard enough to build a relationship without a third party trying to destroy it."

The women were sitting on the deck when Catherine’s light tread finally sounded on the staircase. Duffy’s tail was whapping against the house so sharply that Martin came out, thinking someone was knocking on the door. He noticed Ryan holding on to the dog’s collar, then saw Catherine’s blonde head peek up as she smiled at the gathering. She was dressed in a pair of tan linen slacks with a pure white linen square-cut oversized blouse. The blouse hung out over her slacks, giving her a slightly casual air, but her exquisitely tasteful jewelry and carefully applied make-up diminished the casualness. In her left hand she carried a bottle of liquor, in her right a small purse that perfectly matched her buttery soft sable-colored leather flats.
"I wasn’t sure that the traffic gods would comply, but I’m finally here," she said brightly, a few signs of tension on her face.
"I’m sorry, Mom," Jamie said, getting up to greet her with a kiss and a hug. "We should have come down to you."
"Nonsense," she said, brushing off the suggestion. "Traffic was much worse the other way. I’m happy to come, Sweetheart."
Ryan greeted her mother-in-law, already feeling slightly better to have the older woman nearby. Martin dashed into the house and called for the boys and they filed out moments later. The look on Catherine’s face was priceless as Brendan bent over and gave her a robust hug, closely followed by Conor, who mimicked his greeting. 
Composing herself, Catherine said, "It’s very nice to finally meet you, Brendan. Now I just have one more to go, correct?"
"Yes," Martin agreed. "Rory will be home by the weekend, so you’ll meet him at the party." He said this so matter-of-factly that Catherine was unable to disagree with him, figuring that she had a party to attend.
The boys returned to the house to continue watching the Giants game and Martin started to go with them, but Catherine asked him to stay. "Would you mind discussing what went on today with us, Martin?" she asked. "I’d like your opinion."
"No, no, I’d be happy to, if I’m not interfering."
"We’d love you to talk with us, Martin," Jamie insisted. "Let me go get a glass for you, Mom."
"Oh," Catherine said, looking at the bottle that she still held in her hand. "I wasn’t sure that you kept Scotch in the house, and I hate to switch." 
She looked a little sheepish, but Martin immediately got to his feet and said, "Well done, Catherine. I think a wee nip would be just the thing." Moments later he returned with four glasses, a pitcher of water, a metal mixing bowl filled with ice, and a bottle of Connemara whiskey. "You’ll find no Scotch in the O’Flaherty home," he teased, his eyes twinkling. "It’s Irish or nothing here."
Ryan took a glass and helped herself to some whiskey, suitably impressed that her father had pulled out the good stuff, while Jamie joined her mother in imbibing a little Scotch.
"Well," Catherine said, letting the smooth warm mellowness of the liquor bring a nice heated tingle to her chest as she swallowed. "An impromptu Friday evening chat, a pair of very anxious looking young women, and two bottles of liquor. I have a feeling this is bad news indeed."
"It is, Mom," Jamie admitted. "I promised you that I wouldn’t take any major steps without talking to you first, so I wanted to let you know that I’m going to cut off all contact with Daddy in the future." She said this calmly, but there was such a well of sadness in her eyes that Catherine felt her heart clench in sympathy for her daughter.
"I’m sure you wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t justified, Jamie," she acknowledged. "What happened, Dear?"
"Daddy hired a private investigator to trail Ryan," she said, drawing a slight flush from her partner as all eyes turned to her.
"Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry," Catherine said, her eyes blinking slowly against the shame that she felt. "I’m embarrassed to share a name with that man." Letting out a heavy sigh, she leaned back in her chair and drained her drink, immediately pouring another. "Is there anything that I can do to make amends, Ryan?"
"No, it’s fine, Catherine," she insisted. "Jamie knew almost everything in the report." She looked down at her feet and admitted, "It was pretty humiliating to see my life laid out like that—but I guess that was his goal."
"How do you feel about this, Martin?" Catherine asked, seeing the fire burn in the cold blue eyes.
He blushed slightly as he told the truth. "If it wasn’t for you and Jamie, I’d find him and beat him to within an inch of his life." His voice was low and filled with such venom that Catherine shuddered a bit in reaction. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in any of the three women that Martin would successfully complete his mission if he did not feel the need to control himself for the sake of the Evans women.
The older woman nodded after composing herself, and she turned to face her daughter. "I understand why you think this is your only option, Jamie. I wouldn’t have said this two weeks ago, but I’m in agreement. This might be the only chance he has to see how wrong he is." She sighed and leaned her head back, gazing at the moon high overhead. "I thought I had experienced pain in my life," she said softly, "but everything else pales in comparison to having the man who helped bring your child into the world intentionally hurt her. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for this, Jamie," she said with a world of hurt in her deep brown eyes. "He might have lost both of us tonight."
With tears streaming down her face unchecked, Jamie got to her feet and crossed the short distance to her mother, dropping to her knees and resting her head in her lap. Catherine’s composure crumbled, and she began to sob softly as she tangled her fingers in her daughter’s fine hair and began to rhythmically stroke it.
Catching his daughter’s eye, Martin inclined his head towards the door, indicating that he thought the Evans women should have a moment alone. No sooner were they inside the house than he wrapped his daughter in such a fervid embrace that her lungs were unable to expand. "I’m so proud of you, Siobhan," he whispered raggedly. "I thank God for having given you to me."
She hugged him back with all of her strength, overcome with feeling. "I told Jim that all I wanted in life was for him to be half the man that you are," she said, her own voice hoarse with emotion. A small chuckle escaped as she admitted, "If he could only manage twenty five percent, it would still be a massive improvement."

At eleven o’clock Jamie poked her head into the house. Martin and Ryan were sitting in the living room, chatting quietly, and both dark heads turned in Jamie’s direction. Even from fifteen feet away Ryan could tell that she was bleary-eyed. "Mom’s gonna leave now," she said a trifle thickly.
Hopping to his feet, Martin strode out to the deck and stood in front of Catherine. "Would you rather stay over tonight, or would you prefer that I drive you home?" His deep blue eyes were locked on her, and it was obvious that only those two options were on the menu.
She sighed, not wishing to burden the poor man but realizing that resistance was futile. "I can just take a cab, Martin. I don’t want to be a bother."
"Nonsense. Cabs are an endangered species around here, Catherine. I’ll drive your car and have Brendan follow me."
"No, no," she insisted, loath to have both men driving that far just because she had overindulged. "I’ll go stay at our city apartment," she proposed. "Can I take a cab there?"
"Again, no," he decreed. "I’ll drive you."
She sighed, catching her daughter’s amused look. "All right. Why don’t you just drop me off there. We have an extra car at the apartment. I can come over tomorrow and pick up my Mercedes."
"Are you sure you’ll be alone, Mother?" Jamie asked warily.
"Yes. He’s down in Pebble Beach. For the fourth consecutive weekend," she added, a harsh smile marring her features.

As their parents left the deck, Jamie sat between Ryan’s legs on the chaise lounge, soaking up the comfort that the dark woman’s body always provided. "I’m worried about her," Jamie murmured.
"I am too," Ryan agreed. "She must need the security or the familiarity or something to have stayed with your father this long. I think this is really going to be tough for her." I just hope that she doesn’t continue to drink like this. Jesus, that bottle was more than half full when she arrived. She gazed at the empty, sitting upright on the table next to them. Jamie seems a little buzzed, but not too bad, so Catherine must have caused the most damage. Fighting the lethargy that seemed to settle into her bones, she laughed at herself mockingly. You’ve got a lot of room to talk, O’Flaherty. You spend the afternoon in a bar, then you come home and do a good bit of your own damage on that whiskey bottle. People who live in glass houses…
"You haven’t read the whole report yet, Honey," Jamie reminded her partner. "There’s some stuff about you and Sara in there, and I was thinking that you’d better call her and tell her about it."
Dropping her head into her hands Ryan moaned, "He doesn’t care about anything other than getting what he wants. It doesn’t matter how many innocent people he hurts." She sighed heavily and said, "I’ll read the damn thing when we go downstairs. If I need to call Sara, I will," she agreed, not looking forward to that conversation in the least.

As they drove along in the still-heavy Friday night city traffic, Catherine leaned her head back against the headrest and gave voice to her slightly disordered thoughts. "Martin?" she asked lazily. "Have you ever wished that Ryan…Siobhan wasn’t a lesbian?"
He was a bit taken aback by the question, but he answered honestly, and from his heart. "No. Never." Glancing at Catherine he continued. "I take it that you wish Jamie wasn’t."
Shaking her head slowly she said, "Not for me. It doesn’t bother me at all." Shrugging her delicate shoulders she said, "How can I express this?" She thought about her point for a few minutes, finally saying, "Since she is gay, I’m very, very happy that she’s found Ryan. They seem like a perfect pair, and I want you to know that I couldn’t have picked a better partner for my daughter." Her voice was earnest, and Martin realized that what she was saying was very important to her. "But there is a part of me that wishes she was straight, Martin. I would never want her to pretend to be who she wasn’t—I just sometimes wish she wasn’t who she is."
"Why?" Martin asked simply. "She’s such a fine lass, Catherine. Why nitpick?"
"I don’t know," she sighed, feeling very open with a man she knew so little. "All of the trouble started when she first started having misgivings about her engagement. I know now that Jack wasn’t right for her, but there is a part of me that wishes she had found a man who would have made her happy. I just can’t tell you how horrible it is for me to watch her sever her relationship with her father over this. A year ago Jamie would have told you that her bond with her father was the strongest one in her life." Tears sprang to her eyes again as she whimpered, "It’s breaking my heart, Martin."
"I can’t imagine," he soothed, reaching across the car to grasp and squeeze her hand. "I truly can’t imagine, Catherine." He had a lot to say to the woman—mostly reminding her that Jim had chosen this split, but he didn’t think now was the time. He knew that she had to mourn the death of trust that both Jamie and she had once shared with the man, and he knew that he couldn’t help her with that.
She looked out the window, watching the brightly colored buildings fly by. "Forgive my musings, Martin. I know that things are what they are. Lord knows, there’s no guarantee that Jamie could have ever found a man to love her and care for her as much as Ryan does." Bitterly she added, "I certainly didn’t."

Catherine insisted that Martin drop her off, resisting his offer to find a place to park and accompany her. Now, as she rode up in the gold-toned elevator, she mused, I should have let him walk me up. It’s so comforting to be in his presence. No wonder Jamie cares for him so much.
Slipping her key into the lock, she opened the door to the muted sounds of a television playing in the background. Shit, she muttered to herself, uncharacteristically cursing. All of her instincts told her to back out of the apartment, preserve her dignity, and walk to the first hotel she spotted. But some insolent part of her—long buried—poked its head out and caused her feet to carry her towards the sound. 
They were nestled together on the couch. Jim was bare-chested, and as Catherine walked closer she could see that he was wearing only his boxers. The young redhead was attired in a skimpy ribbed tank top—only. Jim’s head was resting on her shoulder, and Catherine detected that he was asleep, which made perfect sense since the young woman was watching MTV and she knew that her husband would never choose that channel.
Gathering every bit of gumption that she had been gifted with, Catherine strode to the front of the sofa and extended her hand, pasting on a cultured smile as she said, "Catherine Evans. I don’t believe we’ve met."
The young woman paled noticeably and pushed Jim from her body, cowering in the corner of the sofa as if Catherine was planning on shooting her. Her sudden movement woke him and he blinked slowly, as he tried to focus. "Wha…?" Turning his head in the direction of his lover’s frightened gaze he focused on his wife, standing two feet in front of him with an eerily calm look on her face.
His head swiveled in all possible directions, finally lighting on his lover as he noticed her state of dishabille. Grabbing a chenille throw from the back of the sofa he gallantly covered her, trying to get to his feet at the same time. "Now look here, Catherine…" he began, his authoritative voice coming to the fore.
"I’m going to sleep in the guest room, Jim." 
She stepped around the piece of furniture, confidently making her way towards the hall when he called out, "You can’t just barge in here…"
She turned quickly, her brown eyes flashing with seldom-seen anger. "This is a community property state, Jim. Until the divorce, one-half of this apartment is mine. I’m sleeping in my half tonight. Try to keep the noise to a minimum, won’t you?"
With that, she turned on her heel and continued on her path, not stopping until she reached the well-appointed guest room, immediately locking the door behind her. Her body sagged against the heavy, solid surface, her legs slowly losing their muscular tension until she had slid down the length of the door and collapsed onto the plush pile carpet. With all of the strength that she could summon, she focused on keeping her sobs nearly silent, intent on never letting her husband know that he had finally managed to break her heart.

"Your mom seemed pretty sedate today, don’t you think?" Ryan asked after Catherine showed up to collect her car on Saturday morning.
"Yeah," Jamie agreed. "She probably has a bit of a hangover. I don’t think she’s been drinking much lately. She’s outta practice."
"Do you think we should have gone home with her? I hate to see her looking so sad."
Turning to look at her partner fully, Jamie said, "You know, even if you didn’t have any other good qualities, I’d love you just for the way you care about my mother. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, Ryan."
"I love her too," the taller woman said simply, meaning every word.
"Are you going to call Sara today?" Jamie asked, not wanting to bring up the sore subject, but feeling that she should.
"Yeah," Ryan said glumly. "I think I should."
"Wanna talk about it first?" Jamie asked.
"Nah. I’ll just tell her and hope she doesn’t freak."
"Hard to imagine that an incident that happened seven years ago could show up in some investigator's report about an entirely different matter."
"Yeah. Hard to imagine is an understatement," she groused.

"Sara?" the anxious woman asked a few minutes later.
"Hi, Ryan," she said immediately, not needing further identification from her old friend. "I’m surprised to hear from you."
"Yeah," she said quickly. "You’ll be surprised and displeased when I tell you why I’m calling."
"What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch.
"Nothing," Ryan started to say, but amended quickly. "Plenty of things are wrong, but nothing life-threatening. Let me just get to the point so you don’t have to guess, okay?"
"Sure. Go ahead, Ryan."
She blew out a breath, unsure of where to start. "Very shortened version of the story," she said in the familiar shorthand that Sara was so used to. "Jim Evans is unhappy with Jamie and me being together. He has some doubts about me as a person and he had me investigated."
Sara gasped in shock, mumbling, "That sucks."
"Sure does," Ryan agreed. "This affects you because he went back and delved into my uh… romantic life," she said with a nervous clearing of her throat.
"And he knows about you and me," Sara said quietly.
"Yeah. Your name was in the report," Ryan agreed. "It was pretty accurate factually."
Sara was quiet for a moment and Ryan waited also, letting her friend have time to think about her reaction. "Thanks for telling me, Ryan," she finally said. "I’d hate to have that blindside me if it came up at work."
"Do you think it might?" Ryan asked.
"No. My name is common, but even if it wasn’t I don’t think he’d make the connection. I’ve never spoken to the guy in a one-on-one situation, Ryan. Morris and Foster has over 450 attorneys now, and I’m at the very bottom of the food chain."
Breathing out a sigh of relief Ryan said, "That’s reassuring. I was afraid he might associate you with me and think less of you because of it."
A soft, lilting laugh came out of the receiver and Ryan’s eyes drifted closed at the warmth that the sound evoked. "Being associated with you would only enhance my reputation with anyone who had a brain in their head," she said gently. "Don’t give this another thought, Ryan. I won’t," she promised.
"It’s a deal, Sara. Thanks for being so mature about this."
"It’s taken me a while to begin the process of maturing," she chuckled, "but now that I’ve started, I’m gonna do my best to keep going in the right direction."

Part Eight
Ryan had taken to riding her mountain bike to school, requiring her to carry a substantial amount of books and supplies on her back, and Jamie usually helped her get loaded up. As she prepared to leave on Monday morning, Ryan asked, "Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to see your father?" 
Gazing at Ryan for a full minute, Jamie worked her cheek between her teeth, obviously struggling with some inner conflict. Her blonde head finally shook briefly—her mind made up. "No. I want to talk to him alone. Even though he targeted you, he did so because of me. This is really between me and him."
"All right," Ryan agreed, lacing her hands behind Jamie’s neck and giving her a tiny tickle as she did so. She leaned in close and brushed her lips across her cheeks, then embraced her gently and whispered, "I’m going to be worried about you all day. Promise you’ll page me after you see him?"
"I will," she agreed. Patting Ryan’s chest with the flat of her hand, she forced a bright smile and said, "I’ll see you after practice tonight."
Ryan rode away, feeling the anxiety building as she increased the distance between herself and her partner.

Once again, Jamie used the ruse of paying her father a surprise visit to learn his schedule from his secretary. He was in his office when she arrived just after lunch, and she could hear his voice carrying clearly down the hallway when she approached. Allowing him the courtesy of finishing his phone call, Jamie chatted quietly with Helen for a few minutes, the small talk serving to keep her mind off the impending confrontation.
As soon as she heard him say goodbye, she thanked Helen for arranging the meeting and slipped inside his office, closing the door firmly behind her. He looked up and his face betrayed a moment of surprise which was quickly replaced by a look of sad resignation. It was obvious that the young woman who stood in front of his door was not there to conduct a social call; Jim knew the many expressions of his daughter’s face better than most, and he immediately knew that she was, at the very least, intensely angry.
He got up and crossed the room, unsure of how to greet her. For just a moment, he had the irrational notion to try to kiss her, then realized that would be a very bad idea. Instead, he offered nothing by way of greeting, and neither did she. He sat on the arm of his leather sofa and waited in tense silence, knowing that the very essence of their future relationship lay in her small, clenched hands.
"A year ago, if I had been told that one day I would voluntarily choose to cut off contact with you, I think I would have laughed." He felt his stomach clench as she continued in a low, emotionless voice. "I thought, out of all of the people in the world, that you loved me more than anyone else did. More than mother, more than Jack, even more than Poppa. I thought that you understood me, and that my welfare was paramount to you." She shook her head, still unable to fully believe all of the evidence that now showed she had been mistaken. "Funny what a difference a year makes," she added, her voice now growing cold and bitter.
"Jamie, please let me explain," he began, but she cut him off.
"There is no possible explanation. You hired someone to investigate my lover. You did that only to cause me further pain and embarrassment."
"I did not!" he cried, unable to hold his tongue. "I’m trying to show you who she really is!"
"Hmm…let’s see, a few weeks ago she was a money-grubbing opportunist. Then your little investigation quashed that notion, so you no longer try to push that point. But you can’t admit that you were wrong. No, that’s not in Jim Evans' repertoire. You just change your focus. Now she’s a two-timing pedophile." She blinked slowly, cocking her head a tiny bit as she asked, "That is today’s incarnation of evil, isn’t it?"
His head dropped in resignation as he realized that he had very little chance of reaching her now. Still, he tried for the last weapon in his arsenal. "So, when I have an affair, it’s evil and horrible. When Ryan has an affair with an older married woman--with a young child, no less--that just makes her more lovable." His tone was bitter and filled with rancor for the dark woman who had so alienated his child from his affections. 
"I never thought of you as stupid," Jamie mused, narrowing her eyes at him thoughtfully. "But it puzzles me that you can’t grasp a simple fact. Ryan’s never been married before. Before now she’s never made a vow to anyone to remain faithful. She’s never intentionally betrayed her spouse just…to…get…laid!" Each of her final words was nearly spat from her mouth as she tasted the bile at the back of her throat.
"So, just your mother and I are beyond your contempt?" he asked softly, a malevolent gleam in his eyes.
"I have no contempt for my mother," she snapped. "It’s not her fault that you can’t remain faithful any longer than a dog in heat!"
He rose and went to his desk, opening his lowest drawer and extracting a file folder. Returning to his daughter, he pulled a few photographs from it and tossed them at her sharply, one at a time, her body reacting automatically to catch them. She didn’t want to look, but the first image caught her attention immediately and she was unable to stop her eyes from focusing on it. It was a crystal clear shot of her mother in the very recent past, judging from her haircut. She was sitting at an outdoor café that Jamie recognized as being close to her apartment in Milan. A very handsome dark-haired man held her hand in the photo, his black eyes boring into the fair woman with a magnetic intensity.
The next photo was taken moments later, and their chairs had drawn closer. Now their arms were loosely draped around each other’s bodies, and their lips met in what was likely a short, tender kiss. The following picture showed Catherine’s head resting on his shoulder, his fingers tilting her chin up to be able to better gaze into her eyes. Another showed them entering her apartment building together, the time stamp showing three p.m. In the very last photo, Catherine stood on her balcony, offering a longing farewell to the man, who stood on the street below. She was now wearing a silk robe, and her hair was attractively mussed. The stamp on this photo read seven p.m., and from the golden light that colored her body, it seemed to reflect the accurate time. "Giacomo Fontini," she heard a voice intone. "Art gallery owner. 32 years old. Married. Three children." He waited until he could see the full realization of his words reach her, then asked, "What level of contempt does that engender, Jamie?"
She rose and faced him, her green eyes filled with tears. Her gaze flicked over his face, trying to remember what it had been like to love and be loved by this man who now seemed like a complete stranger. "My contempt for you is so complete, that I have none left to spare."
Without another word, she turned and walked out of his office, determined that those would be the last words she ever spoke to him.

She was barely aware of the road she was on and even less aware of her destination. Her surprise was near total when she found herself entering the town of Hillsborough, and found her car automatically proceeding to her childhood home.
She found her mother in the garden, the older women strolling along the gravel path in deep concentration. The sound of footsteps startled her, and she turned to face Jamie with a look of shock. "Sweetheart…" she began only to find her arms full of her sobbing child. The young woman cried so hard that Catherine prepared herself for the worst, and, as she'd feared, moments later her daughter was bent over from the waist, retching violently onto the path.
When she was able to stand, Catherine led her to a bench and left her for a moment to get her something to drink. Minutes later she returned, a tall glass of lemon-lime soda in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. Handing Jamie some tissues, Catherine wiped at the sweat that ran freely down the young woman’s face and neck. 
It took a long while, longer than she could ever remember, to calm her down enough to discuss what had happened. Jamie drained her glass of Seven-Up and put some of the ice cubes into the cloth, placing it on the back of her neck to help cool her fevered body.
"Are you feeling better, Honey?" Catherine asked softly, her heart aching for her child. She intuited that her distress was over her planned confrontation with Jim, and she forced herself to be patient enough to let Jamie explain her plight when she was ready.
"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, wishing that she didn’t have to share what she had learned. "I went to see my father today," she began, no longer able to even refer to him by his more familiar form of address. "It was…it was bad, Mom."
Slipping her arm tightly around her daughter’s shoulders, Catherine assured her, "You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, Honey."
"No, no, I have to," Jamie swallowed convulsively, trying to stem another round of tears. "The really bad part was about you."
Catherine stiffened, her eyes growing wide with alarm. "About me?" she asked, her mouth suddenly very dry.
"Yes." Jamie took a deep breath and revealed, "He had you followed, too."
All of the air seemed to escape from Catherine’s body, and she collapsed against the hard wooden bench, her heart racing, her palms covered with sweat. "Jamie," she whispered, "I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I…"
Her daughter’s hand covered her own as the strong, firm voice said, "It’s okay, Mom. It’s a little late, but I…I finally understand what Ryan’s been telling me all along."
Staying right where she was, Catherine merely inclined her head, silently urging her daughter to continue.
"What happens between you and my father--between any two people for that matter--isn’t my business. I never should have been so judgmental about his behavior. I don’t have to like it, but I don’t have the right to get involved."
Catherine let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and gave her daughter a relieved look. She dabbed at her eyes with the last of the tissues and said, "I know I’ve done some things that you don’t approve of, Jamie, but I honestly don’t know if I could survive if I lost your respect."
Enveloping her mother in a hug, Jamie whispered, "I love and respect you, Mom. I don’t know what happened between you and Daddy, but I’m sure you had your reasons for what you’ve done."
"I’ll tell you all about it, if you want to know," Catherine offered.
Looking at her mother curiously, Jamie asked, "How long has it been going on?"
"Not very long," Catherine revealed. "It started when I went to Milan after Christmas last year."
"Why?" Jamie asked, thinking it odd that her mother would choose this point in her life to have an affair, since it was obvious that her father had been unfaithful for many years.
"It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the condensed version," she said, taking in a deep breath to clear her mind. "Things got very strained between your father and I not long after you left for college. I think that both of us had a large void in our lives without you, and I decided that I didn’t want things to go on as they had been." She furrowed her brow, trying to decide how much she should reveal. "We hadn’t been intimate in several years, and I just decided that I couldn’t live without love for the rest of my life."
Jamie’s eyes closed in pain as she considered how lonely it must have been for her mother to be locked into a sexless marriage to a man who was unfaithful. 
Catherine continued, "We discussed divorcing, but to my surprise, your father proposed that we try to start over again." She smiled softly, remembering his heartfelt plea to give him another chance. But her smile faded as she observed, "I think he just didn’t want to lose the houses and his cars."
"That sounds like him," Jamie agreed, unable to see her father in even a glimmer of a favorable light.
"We tried to re-establish our physical relationship, and even though it was strained, I thought we were making progress. Then we went to the New Year’s Eve party last year," she said, her voice tight with remembered anger. "One of the partner’s wives took me aside and told me that your father was having an affair with one of the associates." She shook her head slowly, the shame still causing her cheeks to flush. "That was the final straw for me, Honey. Being humiliated in public like that was just something that I couldn’t tolerate."
"What was his excuse?" Jamie cried, unable to understand how a man could lie repeatedly to his wife.
"I never told him that I knew," Catherine said softly. "I rebuffed his advances once or twice and he never made another overture." She looked every one of her 41 years as she sighed and said, "I think he was just sleeping with me so that I didn’t divorce him. He seemed… relieved not to have to touch me again."
Blinking her eyes against the pain she felt for her mother, Jamie asked, "So you tried to find a lover?"
"No, Dear. I’d known Giacomo for several years. We were great friends, and he’s helped me with all of the art I’ve acquired over the years I’ve lived in Milan." She blushed slightly as she admitted, "I’ve known he was interested for quite a while, but I always told him that I couldn’t return his affection." She looked up at Jamie with a hint of defiance in her deep brown eyes and said, "I stopped saying no after I found out about your father’s latest conquest."
Jamie tried to get her mind around all of these events, finally asking, "But what about his wife and his family? Isn’t it hard on them?"
Catherine shook her head slightly and assured her daughter, "Giacomo’s wife knows about us. She has a lover, too." A smile covered her face as she recounted, "His wife’s lover is a woman, Jamie."
"Really?" The younger woman was somehow shocked by this revelation, and her face reflected her surprise.
"Yes, Dear. Their marriage is quite secure. Neither wants to leave the other, but neither is completely satisfied at home. They’re home together in the evenings, and they spend time with their children on the weekends, but their afternoons are for their personal pursuits." 
Catherine seemed to think this was quite normal, but Jamie was having a tough time. "Is…is that enough for you, Mom? A few stolen afternoons, once or twice a year?"
She shrugged her shoulders a bit, saying, "It’s not what I want, but it’s enough to make me feel like someone desires me, Honey. I feel young, and interesting, and attractive when I’m with Giacomo, and for now, it’s enough."
"But wouldn’t you rather find someone in the States?"
Catherine looked rather horrified at the mere suggestion. "Oh, I would never do that, Honey. Not when there was a chance you would have found out."
Jamie swallowed and blinked her eyes a few times, wanting to make sure that she understood her mother’s point. "You…wouldn’t seek your own satisfaction because there was a chance that the gossip would get back to me?"
"Of course, Sweetheart," Catherine said, puzzled that her daughter would even question her logic. "Your respect means everything to me. I would never put that at risk."
Snuggling close and allowing her head to rest on her mother’s shoulder, Jamie closed her eyes, letting the enormity of the sacrifice reach her brain. "I think I understand," she said slowly. "When you’re a parent, you have to let your children’s needs come first."
At Catherine’s nod, Jamie informed her, "I’m an adult now, Mom, and I want you to know that it’s perfectly all right with me if you want to find someone on this side of the Atlantic. I can handle it."
Catherine smiled softly at her daughter and offered up a small tease to lighten the mood. "If I had played my cards right, I would have snared that darling Martin O’Flaherty while he was still on the market!"

Jamie decided to stay in Hillsborough for dinner, feeling like she needed to spend a little more time with her mother. Things seemed fairly normal between them when she finally departed at 8:30, and she mulled over the developments of the day the entire way home.
Ryan was sitting on a chair on the front porch when she arrived, and Jamie smiled to herself as she saw the phosphorescent glow of the laptop casting a pale shadow across her body. One of the things she had always loved about Ryan was her ability to make the most out of every minute—even tonight, when she was understandably anxious about the outcome of the day. Too antsy to wait in her room, she had brought her work with her, somehow feeling less anxious when she was outdoors.
By the time Jamie had turned off the ignition, Ryan was at the door, looking at her with a face full of compassion mixed with trepidation. "Have you been worried about me?" she asked as Ryan wrapped her in a hug.
"Of course I have," Ryan murmured, her face snuggled up against Jamie’s neck. "I knew you weren’t being very forthright and I assumed it’s because your mom was there. What happened?"
"Shit. I’m sorry, Ryan. I should have gone into another room to call you. I…I just wasn’t thinking very clearly."
"It’s all right," Ryan soothed. "You’re home now." She released her hold and took Jamie’s hand, leading her slowly up the sidewalk and onto the porch. "Wanna go inside, or stay out here?"
"Out here, please," she decided. "Can I sit on your lap? I need to be close."
"Best idea I’ve heard all day," Ryan agreed. She sat down on the roomy Adirondack chair and waited for Jamie to snuggle in. After a few minutes they were both comfortable, and as Jamie lay her head against Ryan’s chest she felt some of the fractures in her psyche start to heal almost immediately. 
"I don’t know how I would get through all of this without you," she whispered, feeling the rock-steady beat of Ryan’s heart against her cheek.
"Not to be too nitpicky, but you wouldn’t have these problems without me, Jamie. I know that you don’t regret being with me, and you know that I wouldn’t change a thing, but the fact remains that my presence has caused the rift with your father, and I’m very, very sorry for that."
"Nope. You couldn’t be more wrong," Jamie said confidently, her head slowly moving back and forth against Ryan’s chest. "If not you, it would have been something else. He’s unwilling to let me make my own decisions, Ryan. I think it’s almost irrelevant what those decisions are. This would have come up at some point, with you or without you. I’m just glad that you’re here to help me through it."
"I always will be here for you, Jamie. No matter what." She wrapped her arms a little tighter around her partner, trying to convey her support through her physical presence. "Do you feel like talking about it?"
"Not much," she admitted. "I’m pretty drained. But I know you’re anxious, so I’ll give you a quick version."
"If you don’t want to, I can wait…"
"No. It’s all right, Honey. You should know this." She took a deep breath and said, "My father didn’t just have you followed. He also sicced his hounds on my mother." 
Ryan’s body tensed appreciably and Jamie asked quietly, "You didn’t know about this, did you?"
"No. I know nothing about your mom that you don’t know," she said immediately, feeling a twinge of regret that her partner had to question that.
"Well, the bottom line is that she’s been having an affair in Italy. With a married man," Jamie added, still not quite comfortable with the facts.
"Oh, Honey," Ryan crooned, holding her close. "How awful for you to learn that."
"No, no, I’m okay with it," she decided. "Well, not okay, I guess, but I’m certainly not angry or upset with her." She lifted her head and gazed into Ryan’s eyes, their heads so close that she could make out each individual eyelash. "If I had listened to you earlier, this might not have gotten to this point."
"Huh? Listened to me about what?"
"You told me early on that I shouldn’t be so judgmental of my father’s behavior, Ryan, and if I had listened to you he might not have gone this far. He was trying to show me that both you and my mother have done the same things that he has."
"What a bastard," Ryan mumbled, feeling her ire rise at the man who would intentionally try to poison his daughter’s feelings for her mother.
"Yeah. No argument there," Jamie agreed. "Nonetheless, Ryan, if I hadn’t made such a big deal about his affairs, he might not have felt that he was justified in trying to dig up dirt on both you and mother."
"Jamie, it certainly isn’t your fault--" Ryan began, but Jamie interrupted.
"No, of course it isn’t. He acted with malice, Ryan, I know that. All I’m saying is that I think I pushed him a little by being so sanctimonious about his affairs. It really isn’t my business, and I’m sorry that I made such a stink about the whole thing."
"That’s very mature of you to admit," Ryan said softly. "You’ll always have feelings about the way your parents conduct their relationship, but it’s really not a good idea to take sides. A relationship is just too complicated." She sighed deeply and added, "To be honest, I lost all respect for your dad when I learned he was cheating on your mom. I wouldn’t tell him that, of course, but it really pissed me off."
"I don’t know, Ryan," Jamie said softly. "I really do understand that I should stay out of it—but I don’t know how to learn that kind of information and not get involved." She shrugged and added, "It doesn’t matter much anymore I suppose."
Hearing the defeated tone in her voice, Ryan said, "I assume that you’re pretty angry with your father for having your mother followed."
With a heavy sigh, Jamie admitted, "You know, I think I’ve reached my capacity for anger. I’m no angrier than I was when I went there today. Maybe I’m just numb…I don’t know." She snuggled back down and added, "Maybe he’s finally killed the love I still had for him. He just seemed pathetic today, Ryan. I almost feel sorry for him." She climbed off Ryan’s lap and extended her hand, helping her partner up. "Maybe he should hook up with that young associate and start over. He could start a new family and try to do it right this time." She turned and gazed at Ryan with a look of pure determination. "He might as well start a new family, because he’s lost the one he had."

Ryan was waiting outside of Coach Placer’s office on Tuesday when he emerged to walk over to practice. "Have you made up your mind about taking me this weekend?"
He laughed at her determination and promised, "I’ll let you know after practice, Ryan."
"Just let me know what I have to do to convince you, Coach," she said earnestly. "If you’re worried about the cost of taking me, I’ll even pay my own way. It’s really, really important to me to be with the team this weekend, even if you don’t think I can play."
He shook his head, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to refuse her. "Okay, Ryan, let’s go over right now and measure your vertical leap. If you can show me that you still have any explosive power in those skinny legs, you’re on."
When they arrived at the RSF, she ran a few easy lengths of the gym and bounced around a little bit before she did a few deep squats. She exploded out of a couple more squats and pronounced herself ready. Dipping her fingers in the blue chalk she made her first mark on the wall. Concentrating fully, she crouched down a little and began her approach. She exploded from her mark and propelled herself towards the wall, brushing the surface with the tips of her fingers before she landed softly. Coach Placer gave her a puzzled glance as he pulled out his tape measure, then he called Erin over and asked her to confirm his measurement. Ryan just stood there grinning with a satisfied smile on her face.
"O’Flaherty," he finally said, "I don’t know how you go from being critically ill to improving your leap by two inches in less than two weeks, but if it works I want the whole team infected!"
She gave him a happy smile as she revealed, "Losing twelve pounds made a big difference in my leap. I feel much lighter and more explosive. I’m going to try to play at this weight and see if my stamina can hold up."
"Well, we should have an indication by Saturday night," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Erin, make sure Ryan’s on the roster for this weekend."
Her exuberance got the best of her and she performed a flawless standing back flip in front of the startled coach. "Don’t break your neck!" he yelled. "You’re going to be the death of me, Ryan!"
"Nah. If I haven’t driven my father mad yet, you’re safe."

As they snuggled together later that night Jamie slid her hand around to cup Ryan’s breast. Taking a tender nip of a pink earlobe she teased, "You’ve lost a substantial amount of my favorite assets, Sweetie. What are we going to do about that?"
"Are they really smaller?" Ryan asked as she looked down, finding herself unable to judge. 
"Yeah, they really are. I can get one all the way into my mouth now," Jamie said as she wiggled an eyebrow. 
"It felt like you were trying to suck my ribs out of my chest," Ryan gently chided, reaching around her shoulder to flick the tip of Jamie’s nose with her index finger. "You were quite the voracious little lover tonight."
"It was funny," the blonde said seriously, her face pensive. "It felt a little like making love to a different body. Everything felt a little strange." She let her hand slide down Ryan’s still moist body, pausing occasionally to consider the changed contours. "You were still you, of course, and you acted the same, but you felt so different that it was odd. I know every little part so well—it’s going to take me some time to get used to the new topography."
"Would you be willing to live with the new look until the season’s over?"
"Sure, if you want to stay this light. But why would you want to? You told me that 200 is your ideal weight, and you’re a very, very long way from that."
"200 is my ideal for lifting weights, looking muscular, and having power. I generally try to get up to around that before the AIDS Ride. But volleyball rewards quickness and jumping ability much more than power. Even though I’m weak right now I felt like my first step was quicker today. I think I’m going to try to play at this weight and see how it goes."
"That will give me an excuse to go buy you new bras." She clambered over her partner’s sweat-slick body and grinned widely at her. "And you know how I love to buy you lingerie," she whispered.
"I don’t know why you enjoy it so much," Ryan reasoned. "You never let me keep it on for long."
"It’s kind of like having really pretty wrapping paper on a present. It really dresses up the gift, but you can’t wait to get that paper off and get your hands on the present," she said with a big smile, her hands roaming all over her big live present.
"You’re incorrigible," Ryan said with a smile as she felt her lips being captured in a sultry kiss. "And that’s just how I like you."

Wednesday dawned foggy and cold, and the tall figure in the dark gray suit had to occasionally wipe the condensation from his eyes as he walked along. It was a good walk from Jim’s apartment to Nob Hill, but he hadn’t considered taking a cab. He was rising so ungodly early lately that he was usually looking for ways to occupy the long hours before dawn. A bracing walk fit the bill, and as he neared his destination he was pleased to note that it was past six. He’ll be up by now, he decided.
His prediction proved accurate a few minutes later when his father opened the door to his small house and blinked at his visitor in surprise. "Good morning," he managed. "Is everything all right, Jim?"
"Not really, Dad," he admitted with uncharacteristic honesty. "May I come in?"
"Oh!" His father looked completely flustered as he stepped aside and let his son enter. He followed the younger man into the sitting room, pausing at the door to inquire, "Coffee?"
"Oh, no thanks, Dad. I stopped twice on the way over here. It helped to keep my hands warm."
"You walked over here?" Charles asked, cocking his head in question.
"Uh, yeah. I uh…I’m having a hard time sleeping in the morning. It helps to get up and get going. I crossed paths with the cleaning crew in the office yesterday," he chuckled mirthlessly.
His own coffee forgotten, Charles sat down and gazed at his son for a moment, seeing the lines of stress that had settled around his mouth. His color was unusually pale, and his eyes bore none of their typical sparkle. "Tell me what’s bothering you, Jim."
Looking into his father’s eyes, Jim had a brief flash of recognition as he realized how starkly similar the warm green eyes were to Jamie’s. "Has Jamie talked to you, Dad?"
"About?" the older man asked, noncommittally.
Jim sighed, realizing his father would guard his secrets carefully, as usual. "About what’s happening between her and me. About me having a private investigator look into Ryan and Catherine’s lives."
The gray eyebrows shot up, Charles’ eyes growing wide. "No, she probably didn’t want to give me a heart attack," he muttered, shaking his head. His eyes fluttered closed as he asked rhetorically, "What will it take for you to come to your senses?"
Jim took the question seriously and looked at his father with eyes bright with emotion. "I think I have, Dad," he said earnestly. "I really think I have." Now only one eyebrow remained arched and Jim continued, "I don’t know why it took me this long, but it finally sank in," he insisted. "Jamie’s just as hard-headed as I am, Dad, and she’s not going to let me dictate to her about her choice of…companions," he said, not being able to come up with a more palatable word. "It finally dawned on me that either I drop the issue, or I’ll lose her…permanently." His eyes were unfocused as they stared at a space over Charles’ shoulder. "I can’t lose her, Dad. She’s my life."
Charles got up and sat on the sofa, next to his son. "I’m glad to hear that, Jim. It’s a start."
The younger man looked up at him. "A start?"
"Yes. It’s just a start. You’ve decided to honor her choices because of the harm that will come to you if you don’t. That’s not the same as truly validating her, son. That’s just protecting your own self-interests."
"What are you saying, Dad? What do I have to do?"
The older man sighed and patted his son on the shoulder. "You need to realize that you have a lot of work to do here. This is not going to be an easy journey for either of you." He gave him a speculative look and asked, "Is Jamie willing to work on this with you?"
"That’s why I’m here," Jim admitted, shifting nervously in his seat. "I uh…thought that you might be willing to talk to her for me, Dad. She won’t take my calls, and I don’t think that she reads my letters. I can’t reach her—no matter what I’ve tried."
"That’s not really surprising, is it?" His words were harsh, but his eyes held their normal warmth, softening the sting. "You’ve done some things that are very hurtful, Jim. You can’t expect her to ignore that just because you see that your tactics were ineffective."
Jim stared at the floor, his lips pursed in a long-familiar pout. "That’s where I thought you might come in," he mumbled.
The older man was slowly shaking his head. "I can’t do that. You need to find a way to make amends to those three women. It’s not going to be easy, Jim, but you’re going to have to do it. All I can advise is that you keep trying—over time she might give you another chance."
Getting to his feet, Jim walked over to the window, watching the increasing activity on the street as the residents of Nob Hill set off for work. "I find it hard to believe that you won’t even try to go to bat for me, Dad." His voice was low and soft, and revealed only some of the deep hurt that he felt. "If not for me, I thought you’d get involved for Jamie’s sake."
The priest walked over to his son and lightly touched his shoulder. "There isn’t a thing in the world I would deny you, Jim. I swear, if I could make this all go away, I’d do so in a minute. But my getting involved wouldn’t do a thing to solve the problems that exist between you and Jamie. The only way out is for the two of you to work this out together." Patting him gently he added, "I know patience isn’t one of your strong suits—but this time you’re going to have to try to be patient."
"But I’m leaving for Washington on Friday! I can’t leave with things like this!"
"I think the die is cast, Jim. Jamie’s in charge here, and you can only pray that she’s willing to forgive you some day."
"I’m not so sure Jamie is the one in charge," the younger man grumbled. "I still think Ryan has an undue influence over her."
Charles grasped his son’s shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other. "That’s not true," he said firmly. "There’s a very big difference between having undue influence over someone, and caring deeply for them. Of course Ryan’s opinion is important to Jamie, but her influence is anything but undue. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but at this point in her life, Ryan’s influence is greater than yours, and that’s as it should be."
Jim leaned his head against the window frame, staring vacantly for a few minutes. He sighed softly, then nearly whispered as he said, "If that’s true--I’ve lost her."
"You don’t know that," Charles warned. "I know how difficult this is for you, but this is one time that you can’t force your will. You have to let Jamie approach you—when she’s ready."
With a decided slump to his shoulders, Jim walked to the door. He paused for a moment, and gazed at his father with eyes filled with pain. "You don’t know how hard this is, Dad. It’s…it’s truly devastating." He sighed deeply, then opened the door and stepped out into the dull gray morning.
Charles went to the window and watched him walk down the street. He felt a deep, familiar ache in his chest, as his considered his only son. I know exactly how it feels to have my best efforts to reach my child rebuffed, Jim. I know that feeling all too well. 

On Thursday morning Ryan asked, "Wanna go to Union Square with me this evening?"
"Uh…sure. You know I’ll go anywhere as long as I’m with you. Although why you want to go to the shopping district is anyone’s guess."
"Hey, I shop too," Ryan insisted. "I do wear clothes, ya know."
"Well," Jamie grinned saucily, "that’s not a requirement to keep me happy, but I guess some people aren’t as open-minded as I am."
"This is true," Ryan agreed, placing a kiss on Jamie’s forehead. "I’ll be home about the usual time. We can eat there if you want, or you could make sandwiches or something if you have time."
"What are we going for, Ryan? And what’s the rush?"
The taller woman narrowed her eyes, looked suspiciously over both shoulders and said, "Top secret. Can’t reveal our destination."

Ryan was released a little early that night since they were going to have a run-through the next morning before they left for Washington, giving them a little extra practice time. She and Jamie parked in the lot at Macy’s and as they exited the lot, they immediately crossed the street. When Ryan opened the door to the Levi’s Superstore Jamie shot her a glance as she passed. "We came all the way over here for jeans? They sell jeans three minutes from our house."
"Not these jeans," Ryan assured her, immediately heading to the glass-enclosed elevators for a quick trip to the upper floor. She led the way to a section of the store with a long counter and a series of dressing rooms, and not much else. "Hi, I need to order some custom fit jeans," she told the first saleswoman who approached her.
Jamie’s mouth gaped as she said, "They make them to order?"
"Oh, yeah," the woman said. "Any style, any fabric, any color. It’s your choice."
"That’s remarkable," she said. "Do you want something special, Ryan?" She looked up at the tall woman who gave her a gentle smile. 
"Yeah. I want regular old 501’s that go past my ankles." Ryan turned to the saleswoman and said, "I’ve been here before, so I’ll just look at your books for a few minutes to determine what fabric I want."
The saleswoman nodded and left to greet the next customer, but Jamie was still working on digesting what Ryan had just said. "My God, it never dawned on me that you wouldn’t be able to buy jeans that were long enough…"
"Until this store opened, I wore shorts year-round," she said, shaking her head. "That last growth spurt knocked me out of women’s pants. They make guys jeans long enough, but I look ridiculous in them. The waistband gaps, they’re baggy in the seat. Unacceptable!"
"But you have khakis that fit…"
"Yep. All from here. I have one pair of wool slacks that fit—they had some hellacious hem in them. Even still, they show more ankle than I’m comfortable with."
"You have those black gabardine slacks," Jamie reminded her.
Ryan’s eyebrows popped a few times as she revealed, "Those are men’s slacks. They’re cut generously, and have pleats. Somehow they worked for me. But I’ve never been able to find another pair that fit as well." She smiled at Jamie and revealed, "It’s been a struggle my whole life, even as a kid. I wore boys clothes until I started to develop some curves—then I was generally outta luck."
"Yeah, but your fans were just beginning to get lucky. Pun intended," she giggled.
"Bring your punny little butt over here and help me choose. I think I just want regular 501’s, but I’m amenable to suggestions."
"Cool," Jamie said as they surveyed the chart on the wall with color swatches, leg styles and button and zipper options. "You can really get anything you want?"
"Yep. You’re the boss."
They spent much longer than Ryan would have taken, but they finally decided on four pairs of pants: one pair of blue jeans, one black, one pair of mid-green khakis, and one of the traditional beige khakis. The blue jeans were to be Ryan’s favorite style—button-fly, five pockets, and straight leg. For the black she let Jamie talk her into a boot cut, which the smaller woman insisted would look better with her Doc Martens. The khakis were quite traditional—all cotton, zipper fly, four pockets--and Jamie gave her approval to the entire wardrobe.
The saleswoman led Ryan into a tiny dressing room, where Jamie wasn’t allowed to accompany her. "Why can’t I go? I wanna see them measure you."
"'Cause you won’t be able to see a thing. It’s all done by remote cameras in a jet-black room. The cameras would pick you up, and you’d have to get into the pants with me for them to fit right."
"And the problem with that is…?"
"See you in a minute," Ryan assured her. "You can look through the little slit in the door if you want."
"I want," she decided.
Ryan shucked her baggy jeans as soon as she got into the tiny room, then ignored the gym shorts the woman had given her, preferring to leave her own boxers on. Jamie was, of course, talking to her the entire time, but Ryan had to go into another, even smaller room, and their contact was cut off. 
A disembodied voice instructed the dark woman to grab a pair of handles midway up the wall, and when she was set the cameras started to flash, their strobes so bright that she would have been bothered if her eyes had been open. The whole thing just took a few seconds, and she was out in no time, Jamie’s cute little nose still pressed into the slit in the door. 
"All done?" she asked.
"Yep. Quick, huh?"
"I’ll say. Maybe I should do this, too."
"Can if you want. Or we could get you shrink-to-fits."
"What’s that?"
Ryan emerged and told the saleswoman that they’d be back to settle up in a bit. She walked Jamie around the elevator bank to a big display for the shrink-to-fit style. No one was currently waiting to have jeans done, so Ryan signaled to the impossibly thin young man who was on duty. "My friend wants some jeans. Can you hook her up?"
"Sure. What size do you normally wear?"
"Either six or eight," she said.
"These aren’t women’s sizes," he informed her. "I think I can guess your waist and inseam. I’ll bring in a couple of different pair for you to try. Then we can get started." Jamie suspiciously eyed the big tub in the center of the display, but she didn’t comment, figuring that this would either be fun or interesting since Ryan was involved.
Ryan went into the small room with her, their bodies having to perform an impromptu dance to give Jamie enough room to strip out of her own slacks to try on the jeans. Ryan examined the relatively baggy, extremely stiff fabric with her usual eye for detail. "Nope. Next size down."
"I would think so," Jamie agreed, slipping them off without needing to unbutton. The next pair was still too large for her tastes, but Ryan grasped the stiff fabric in a few critical places, her head practically nestled between Jamie’s breasts. The smaller woman giggled as the searching hand pinched the fabric between her legs and looked up, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Too snug?"
"Nope. But will you always keep your hand there? I mean, I don’t mind, but…"
"Just making sure they won’t be too tight if they shrink that much," Ryan assured her. "Just trying to be professional, ma’am."
"You haven’t worked here, have you?" she asked, ruffling her hair.
"Nope. But I have had my hand right there on quite a few pairs of jeans…"
"Are we done, wise guy?" She leaned over and placed a sweet kiss on Ryan’s lips. "Let’s go pay for your stuff and get going."
"We’ve just begun the process," Ryan insisted. "Now comes the fun part." She poked her head out the curtain and told the clerk that they were confident of the size. When she drew her hand back inside she held a small strip of some type of synthetic fabric fashioned into what promised to be the most ill-fitting thong in the history of lingerie.
"Can’t I just leave my own on?" Jamie asked, indicating her lavender satin panties.
"Yes, you could, but they’ll look like they came from one of the tie-dye merchants on Telegraph when you’re done here."
"Huh?"
"Trust me," Ryan said. "Put these on and then put on the jeans."
Jamie blew out a breath, fluffing her bangs as she exhaled. "This sounds potentially weird, Ryan. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?"
"Yep. I’ve been here with several people. I used any chance I could to get a woman naked." Her bouncing eyebrows caused Jamie to crack up as usual, and moments later she sat down to put her shoes back on. 
"No shoes. And take your socks off," Ryan instructed. "You also need to put this T-shirt on," she said, handing her a well-worn shirt.
Giving her another look, Jamie did so, then left the dressing room to find the young man filling the large stainless steel tub. "Is this temp good for you?" he asked Ryan, obviously assuming she was the brains of the operation.
She stuck a hand in and decided, "A little more hot water. She’s a delicate one."
Jamie eyed her carefully and asked, "I’m gonna get in that?"
"Yep. Ergo the shrink element of the equation," Ryan said, giving her a little smirk.
"Oh boy."
Ryan went to pay for the jeans, a prerequisite to getting into the tub. She brought the receipt back just as the tub was full, and she took Jamie’s hand to guide her, smiling at the comical expression on her face as she sat down in the warm water, the jeans adhering to her skin with a strange, clammy sensation. "Uck," she said, a look of distaste on her face.
"Oh, it’s not so bad. I’ve had my jeans on in water before. You’ll get used to it."
"I don’t even want to know," Jamie decided, giving her an aggrieved look.
After 15 minutes, the salesman asked her to stand while he and Ryan assessed the fit. They walked around her and gazed critically at various parts of her, but only Ryan touched her, giving the young man a pointed, proprietary look when his hand strayed too close to her precious partner. "Ten more minutes," Ryan decided, adding, "A little more hot water, too. She’s starting to look a little chilled."
"Coming right up," he said, adding the hose to the tub once again.
Jamie sat back down, playing with the rubber ducky and the various squirt guns provided for her pleasure. Ryan, of course, got shot a few times, with Jamie managing to hit her right on the nipple, leaving a nice dark mark on her bright blue shirt.
During the next fit-check, both critics agreed, and Jamie was allowed to exit, her toes now severely wrinkled and tinted a nice shade of very light blue. She started for the dressing room, but Ryan guided her to an enclosure on the perimeter of the display area. Jamie entered what looked like a partial dressing room, the Formica panels running from the floor to mid-chest. The salesclerk pushed a button and a powerful, warm fan hit her from all sides, as she let out a startled squawk. "Now comes the fit part," Ryan smiled, leaning on the panel as she crossed her arms and smiled broadly at her partner. "Now you know how your poor clothes feel when you put them in the dryer," she joked. She tossed her dark hair and went to pay for her own purchases, leaving a scowling woman on the permanent-press cycle.

Part Nine
"I don't want to let you go," Jamie pouted early the next morning as she curled her body all around her lover's in a python-like embrace.
"And I don't want to go," Ryan agreed as she nuzzled her face into her partner's neck.
"Whose idea was it that we be on teams competing at the same time?" Jamie moaned as she snuggled even closer and trailed her fingers down Ryan's concave belly.
Ryan caught the wandering hand and brought it up to her mouth, kissing the warm palm and each of the fingers in turn. "I think it was a joint decision, Baby, but I have to get up now. We're having a quick run through of our defense and then heading to the airport." She tossed her legs from the bed but found her partner's 120 pounds still tightly coiled around her. "Come on, Honey," she said softly as she lovingly stroked her back. "It's hard for me too."
"I know it is," she said. "I think I hate it so much not just because you'll be gone, but because I won't see your first game."
"That's exactly how I felt when you went up to Oregon. I mean, think of it. I made three long distance calls in one day to check on you. That's unheard of!"
Jamie laughed at her partner's claim, knowing it was close to the truth. "It was hard to play those matches without you. It really helped to have Mom there, but it didn't stop me from missing you."
"I know. I hate to think of looking up in the stands and not seeing your sweet face. I know we'd win if you were there, but without you..."
"I'll let you go," Jamie finally relented, "but you have to promise to think of me every minute."
"I promise," Ryan intoned as she solemnly crossed her heart with her index finger.
"Okay, you can go," she said as she released her grip and withdrew her entwined body parts from her lover's body. Ryan bent down for a quick kiss and then dashed into the bathroom to take a shower. Jamie graciously got up and began to pack her bag, since she had kept her so thoroughly occupied the night before. As Ryan was drying her hair Jamie finished her packing and went back into the bathroom to present her with one little gift.
"I know you like to carry your big organizer with you because it's got all of your important numbers and your schedule, but I thought you might like a little money clip for carrying just a few things." She handed her a very small money clip with tan leather compartments for her license and two credit cards. The brass clip on the outside securely held an abundance of folded bills. 
Ryan gave her an amused grin as she opened the compartment to find that Jamie had already filled it with her license and her debit card. But when she looked closely, there was a new card in with the others. She extracted the platinum American Express card as she lifted one eyebrow at her partner.
"I can't have you going all over the country without a credit card! You can't use your debit card for car rentals or even some hotels."
"Uh...I think the school covers the hotel, Jamie. They don't just throw us out there and hope for the best."
"I know, Love, but I'll feel much more secure if I know you can take care of yourself in case of a financial emergency."
"Platinum?" Ryan asked weakly. "Why not a nice little Visa card?"
"I just called American Express and had them put you on my account as a signer, and since my card is platinum, so is yours."
"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?" Ryan asked as she bent for a kiss.
"Not likely," Jamie honestly replied, pulling her down even closer for a much longer kiss.

Jamie drove her over to the gym a few minutes before seven. They were parked in front of the building for quite a while, as Jamie had a very difficult time letting her go. "I love you, Ryan," she said, holding her face in her hands and kissing every available surface.
"I love you too, Baby," she agreed when she was allowed to use her mouth for speech, "but I've got to go."
She pulled herself away and grabbed her bag from the back seat. Running around to the driver's door, she placed several more delicate kisses on Jamie's lips and was just about to turn when she was grabbed firmly and given a scorcher. When she was released her eyes were nearly crossed, and her legs felt a little rubbery as she heard a low laugh from behind her. "Time to go, O'Flaherty," Jordan's voice rang out.
Jamie patted her cheek and gave her one last gentle kiss as she waved to Jordan. Ryan gathered her wits and approached her smirking friend. "You get more action on the street than most people do in bed," Jordan teased, tossing an arm around her shoulders.

All in all, Ryan was quite pleased with the outcome of her first NCAA Division I volleyball game. They won their first match of the weekend three games to one over a young team from the University of Washington. They had worked well together as a team and even though she did not play as many minutes as she wanted to, she was a significant contributor.
These weekend matches were particularly important since they were the first PAC-10 matches of the season. Obviously, it hurt to lose their first five games, and realistically speaking they had probably ruined their chances to play in the NCAA tournament, but they still had the PAC-10 to think about. The conference champion received an automatic bid to the tournament, and even though there were some very strong teams in the PAC-10 this year, Ryan thought they had a chance to beat anyone on any given night.
Ryan's diminished stamina barely got her through the game, but by the time the match was finished all she could think of was a warm bed. She knew she wasn't fully recovered when bed sounded better than dinner, but she satisfied herself with a couple of energy bars and a bottle of Gatorade.
Of course, Jordan was raring to go, and when she could not coerce Ryan into joining her she rounded up most of the other players and headed off for a late dinner.
After a quick call to Jamie, Ryan hit the sack and slept so soundly that she did not even hear her roommate come in.

She woke at seven and stretched for a bit. Ummm, I think I need a little cuddle before I can face the day, she thought happily as she snuggled up against her lover and blew the long blonde hair away from her face...LONG? God damn it, Jordan! Get out of my damn bed! She was unreasonably cross at her friend for climbing into her bed again, and she decided to read her the riot act as soon as she woke. Who the fuck does she think I am? I'm not a human teddy bear! If you want sex-look elsewhere! If you need comfort-get a girlfriend of your own! I'm sick of being put into this position!
She didn't need to get up yet, but she was so ticked off at Jordan that she decided to get up and go out for breakfast. Just as she started to roll out of bed, Jordan started to stir. She draped her arm around Ryan's waist and muttered, "This doesn't bother you, does it?"
Ryan was on the verge of telling her how much it did bother her but paused for a moment to make sure she didn't sound too harsh.
"Ryan?" she asked with a tone of voice Ryan had never heard from her. It was the voice of a young girl, and it seemed very incongruous coming from her friend.
"Yes?" she replied softly.
"This doesn't bother you does it?" she continued in the same fragile, childlike voice.
"No, it doesn't bother me," she wavered, but before she could finish Jordan added.
"I got scared in the middle of the night and I woke up in a panic. But I saw that you were here and I ran over to your bed and crawled in with you. I felt so much better," she said softly. "I fell asleep almost immediately just by being close to you."
Ryan's compassionate nature took over immediately. She opened her arms to her friend and smiled down as Jordan cuddled up against her side. "I don't mind, Jordan. I'm sorry that you get scared though. I really wish you didn't have things that tormented you at night."
"That's the perfect word," she admitted. "I am tormented." She snuggled deeper into Ryan's arms and let out a heavy sigh as she sank back into sleep.

The second game of the weekend, this one in Pullman, Washington, went even better than the one the night before. Ryan played over half of the match, and she felt awfully good about her contribution. They won the first two games handily, 15-7 and 15-5, and were rolling towards victory in the third when Coach Placer took her out and refused to put her back in even when Washington State tied them at 14-14. Ryan was actually glad that he didn't put her back in, since it gave their talented but raw freshman outside hitter Heather a chance to play in a game that was nearly in the bag. Luckily Jordan rescued the game with a kill, and their defensive specialist, Michelle Chang, served out the match 16-14.
Once again she was more tired than hungry, so she took the shuttle back to the hotel, leaving some of her teammates and Jordan to go out for a snack.
As soon as she got to her room, she dialed Jamie. "I love you," she said softly when her partner's sweet voice answered.
"And I love you," Jamie replied immediately. "I heard the whole game on the Internet," she said proudly.
"Cool! I was afraid that Broadcast.com wouldn't work that well."
"No, it was pretty good, actually. It comes through the RealAudio player, just like any other radio broadcast. I was pleased to hear that my teddy bear played such a good game. The announcer said you were one of the most talented athletes in the PAC-10."
"Ooh, the bribe paid off," Ryan joked, quite pleased to hear that she had been mentioned. "I must admit that I played better than I thought I would. I assume you noticed that I had twelve kills, six digs, six blocks, and a pair of aces," she said happily.
"Oh, Ryan, I'm so proud of you," Jamie gushed, while she wondered where to find out what kills, digs, blocks and aces were. "I just wish I could be there to see you. You know, I haven't even seen you in your uniform yet."
"Boy, I took a lot of shit about my uniform yesterday and today. Jordan gave me the hardest time for not wearing underwear under my shorts."
"You go commando?" Jamie said, using the O'Flaherty boys' term.
"Yeah. I would wear something, but everything rides up. As long as I'm going to be yanking I just want one thing to yank on."
"What does she wear?"
"Most of them wear thongs. The rest wear normal panties."
"Maybe you should try a thong too," Jamie suggested.
"I've never worn one for anything active. Well," she amended, "that's not quite true. But I've never worn one for anything athletic." She paused just a second before she added, "Well, technically that's not true either..."
"I get the picture, Tiger," Jamie giggled, always enjoying it when Ryan spoke of her randy past. "How is it going sharing a room?"
"Fine. She doesn't snore, and I wake up before she does so I get the bathroom first. She went out last night and I didn't hear her get in, so I would say she's been a pretty good roommate. But no one can compare with you. You are the ultimate!"
"Thanks, Baby. Just come home to me as quickly as possible."
"I will. We're scheduled for a six a.m. flight out of here."
"Six a.m.!"
"Yep. There are only two flights a day to Seattle. We get there at 7:15 and take off again at 7:58. We're scheduled to be at SFO at 10:00. A couple of vans will pick us up and take us back to Haas. I'll call you when we're there, okay?"
"You hurry up and get to sleep so you're well rested, okay?"
"I will. See you tomorrow. Think of me tonight."
"I think I'm going to sleep with that little topographical survey the computer did of your body," Jamie joked, referring to the little printout they had been given after Ryan had her new jeans fitted.
"Whatever works for you, Love. Sleep tight."

An hour later Ryan was still tossing and turning while trying to unwind when Jordan came in. After spending a few minutes getting ready for bed, she put on a T-shirt and came to stand by Ryan's bed. "Can I?" she asked longingly.
Ryan did a quick run through of the rest of their schedule and decided that the four remaining road trips would not be too big a burden to bear. She pulled the covers down and opened her arm to her friend as she gave her a big smile. "Come on, Cuddles. The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner we'll be home."

They had to run like hell to make the 7:58 flight back to San Francisco, but luckily they all managed to hop on the 737 moments before the door was secured. Amy Pali sat in the third seat, and Ryan was just glad that Jordan had another ear to bend on the trip. As soon as she thought it polite, she put on her headphones and let the soothing tones of Clannad lull her to sleep.
Ryan had chosen the aisle seat and a sharp bout of turbulence jerked her out of a very pleasant dream. "Hey, are you okay?" Jordan asked as her eyes flew open.
"Yeah," she said as she stretched and yawned. "It felt like somebody slugged me," she added, rubbing her cheek.
"Somebody did," Jordan replied helpfully. "Your head was on my shoulder and we jerked quite a bit. Your head bobbed around like a rag doll's, and you hit the top of my shoulder with your cheek."
"I was asleep on you? I'm sorry, Jordan. I must have really been wiped."
"You were definitely asleep. This is your drool isn't it?" she teased as she pointed to a dark string of spit that trailed down her chest.
"Oh shit! I'm really sorry. But why didn't you wake me up? You didn't have to let me drool on you!"
Jordan leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Ryan's flushed cheek. "After all you've done for me this weekend, you get a lot of leeway, Sport."

Ryan was very pleased, if not very surprised, to see a little blonde head peeking around the door as they made their way off the plane. The last 20 feet of the trip consisted of chuckles, giggles, loud smacking of lips in imitation of kisses and a few verbal taunts, but Ryan was happy to endure the razzing of her teammates for the pleasure of seeing her lover a few minutes early. Even though she knew the whole team was watching, she gave Jamie an appropriately emotion-filled kiss as soon as she could push past her playful teammates to reach the waiting arms. "I missed you," she whispered fervently.
Several more kisses followed until they were interrupted by a grinning Jordan. "I missed you too, Jamie," she said seductively, puckering up for a kiss.
Jamie opened her arms to give the tall blonde a generous hug and a tamer version of the kiss than she had requested. "I missed you too, Jordan. Thank you for watching out for my precious one."
"It's a full-time job, but I think I did well," she smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Slugger," she said as she leaned in and gave Ryan a kiss on the lips. In a lower tone she said, "Thanks for everything. You were a lifesaver." She ruffled her hair affectionately and waved goodbye as she trotted after their teammates.
"What was that all about?" Jamie asked as she took Ryan's hand.
"She had trouble sleeping again, Babe. I think she'll be in my bed for the whole season. Are you okay with that?"
Leaning her head against the broad shoulder of her partner, Jamie sighed, "Of course. It must be hard for someone like Jordan to admit to being frightened. I'm glad you're there for her." She gave Ryan another tender kiss as she added, "If she ever tries to get fresh I'll beat her to a pulp, but other than that, it's perfectly all right with me."
"Duly noted," Ryan smiled. "I would kill for a latté. Join me?"
"Absolutely. Then we'll head home so we can help get ready for Rory's welcome home. Too bad we can't pick him up, but his flight isn't until late afternoon."
As they started their walk to the car, Jamie said, "Stop for a second and let me take a good look at you. I've never seen your warm-up outfit." She took a long look at a grinning Ryan, surveying the navy blue warm-up from every angle. The raglan sleeves of the lined nylon jacket accentuated Ryan's broad shoulders and gave her an even more athletic look than she normally had. The back of the jacket bore the traditional gold script that read 'Cal' but underneath, 'Volleyball' was emblazoned in bold block letters. The matching navy blue pants were devoid of lettering, but they had long zippers at the ankle that Ryan had opened to reveal bright gold fabric. The white high top basketball shoes that she wore did nothing to hide her jock aura, and Jamie had to admit that the outfit was totally pleasing to her critical eye. "You look so..." she mused as she walked around her one last time. Finally deciding on the correct adjective she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ryan lightly on the lips as she pronounced her, "scrumptious."
"Thank you," Ryan replied with a smirk. "You don't look so bad yourself," she added. Leaning over to whisper in Jamie's ear she promised, "But there's an outfit that I'd like to see you in as soon as possible." A light nibble on her ear was followed by, "Your birthday suit."
"Works for me," Jamie replied happily as she took her hand.

"You know, I didn't think it was possible, but you might actually wear a hole in the carpet by the end of the day," Ryan observed later that morning, watching her father pace across the living room.
He gave her a slightly embarrassed shrug and said, "I just wish Brendan would get over here. I'm really worried about him, Siobhan. Out of all of the children, I think he'll have the hardest time accepting my plans for marriage."
"Why do you think that, Da?" she asked, having firsthand knowledge of her father's prescience.
"Brendan doesn't like change, Love. Never has, and I doubt that he ever will. He likes to keep things nice and simple, and I'm afraid that he'll be worried that this will upset the order." He paused in his pacing and added, "I also think he'll have a hard time thinking of Maeve as a replacement for your mother. He was, by far, the closest to her of all of the children."
"Really?" Ryan asked, thinking that honor would have gone to her.
"Oh my, yes," Martin insisted. "They were cut from the same cloth, Siobhan. You probably don't see it like that, since you were so young, but Brendan was nearly a duplicate of your mother. He changed after she died," he said thoughtfully. "He grew more cautious and somber about things. Then, of course, I had to ask him to take on so many of her duties that he lost a lot of his childhood." Turning to his daughter, Martin said, "If there's one regret that I have, it's that I wish I could have hired someone to take over running the household. Having a young boy be in charge of so many adult responsibilities was just asking too much."
"So Bren was really different when he was young?"
"Oh yes," Martin admitted. "He was quite a lot like you. Very open and forthcoming about his feelings...always in a good mood...very optimistic about life in general." His face took on a sad, resigned expression as he said, "He'd lost most of that by the time your mother was gone. It was a very, very difficult time for him, and he has never gotten that spark back. I know that would break your mother's heart." He pursed his lips, looking like he was holding back tears. "I wish I could have helped him more, but it was overwhelming for all of us. Brendan got the short end of the stick more than he should have." Martin shrugged his shoulders and decided, "Accident of birth, I suppose. Rather like my brother Francis."
Ryan had heard a number of stories that indicated stark parallels between her father's upbringing and her own. Martin's mother had also been ill for much of the boys' youth, and she died when Martin was also thirteen, just Brendan's age when Fionnuala died. The significant difference, however, was that Martin's father had fallen into a deep, alcohol-enhanced depression after his wife's death, and the boys had to care for him as well as each other.
Francis O'Flaherty was the most serious, and clearly the most taciturn, of the brothers. Ryan could see some similarities between her uncle and her brother, but she held out hope that falling in love might loosen her brother up a bit, even though she wasn't able to share her thoughts on that topic with her father just yet.
"I think both of our families were pretty lucky to have oldest brothers like Uncle Francis and Brendan," Ryan allowed. "Can you imagine what would have happened if Conor and Uncle Malachy had been the eldest ones?"
Martin burst into laughter, finding the images of the most carefree sons heading the families too funny for words. "It would have been interesting, that's for sure," he agreed.

As usual, Martin had an orderly plan for how to share the news of his engagement. He decided to speak to the boys in order of their birth, so Brendan was first. Martin asked Conor to stay close to home for a while, so the second son was reclining on his father's bed, watching a baseball game originating from the east coast. 
Just to keep an eye on things, Ryan and Jamie were hanging out too, and they both looked up sharply when Brendan entered, and flopped down on the bed. "Da wants to talk to you, Conor," he said. "He's in the yard."
"Oh shit," Conor said, his eyes wide. "This must be bad if he has to do it outside." He scooted off the bed, pausing to give Jamie a dramatic hug. "Been nice knowing you, Jamie," he sniffed. "Remember me."
As soon as he was gone, Ryan asked her brother, "How'd it go?"
"Not bad," Brendan allowed. "I think I did pretty well at acting surprised. Da seemed happy."
Conor came scampering back into the room just a few minutes later, looking at the television as he asked, "What did I miss?"
"Nothing!" Ryan laughed. "Barry Bonds is still up!" After a slight pause she asked, "Did Da talk to you?"
"Uh-huh," he said, rather distracted by the game.
"What do you think about his news?" she persisted.
"Cool with me. Aunt Maeve's the bomb."
Unable to resist teasing him a bit, Ryan asked, harkening back to their conversation about Mia, "Do you think Da's getting a four for four?"
His head swiveled to allow him to gaze at his sister with a shocked look on his face. "Ryan! What a way to talk!" He turned back to the TV, intent on the action, but after another few minutes he turned back and said, "I think she's a three for four. She spends altogether too much time looking nice. And I don't mean hot nice," he added pointedly, in case there was any doubt.

By the time Martin returned from the airport with Rory, the relatives were already arriving, keeping up with the O'Flaherty tradition of being extremely early for every occasion.
The house was nearly full when Brendan poked his head in the front door. Ryan spotted him and nearly gasped when he came into the room escorting a woman. "Oh my God," she said to Jamie, giving her a poke in the side. "It looks like this is Brendan's coming out party!"
Immediately heading across the crowded room, tugging Jamie along with her, Ryan reached her brother's side quickly. She wrapped him in a big hug, whispering, "Good thinking, Bren. Da's announcement will take the focus off of you."
"Ha!" he replied triumphantly, having thought his plan through thoroughly. Stepping back he said, "Maggie Reardon, my sister, Ryan and her spouse, Jamie Evans."
The dark haired, dark eyed woman smiled broadly, showing bright, even teeth. "I think I could have picked Ryan out in a crowd," Maggie laughed, a light, lilting sound that Ryan found very attractive.
"We certainly never had any doubts about being adopted," Ryan agreed, giving Maggie a long look while Jamie spoke. She was tall, Ryan guessed close to six feet, and very slender, not a visible muscle on her entire body. Her eyes were very dark and very striking, nearly dominating her attractive, but not distinctive, features. Long straight dark brown hair was brushed off her face and held back with a tortoiseshell headband, giving her a clean-cut, preppy look. Bright red slim fitting cotton slacks and a navy blue silk shell added to her tidy appearance, and Ryan immediately decided that this woman fit Brendan's style very well.
Ryan slung an arm around her partner and sent Brendan on his way. "You've got your work cut out for you tonight. Give me the sign when you're half-through with the introductions and I'll buy you a beer."
"It's a deal, Sis," he agreed, smiling broadly and looking surprisingly relaxed.
"Cute woman," Jamie said as the couple started their rounds.
"Yeah. She looks like the type that Brendan would choose. He seems happy, doesn't he?"
"Yeah. He does. Just two more, Ryan, and all of the O'Flahertys will be locked up." Jamie paused in thought, wondering, "I wonder who will finally snare Conor?"
"I think he's waiting for Pamela Anderson to hunt him down," Ryan decided, not even considering sharing Conor's thoughts about Mia.

The welcome home party had been raging for six hours by the time Ryan could finally pull Rory away for a quiet chat. They stood out on the landing of the stairs that led to the yard and sipped on their beers as they cooled down from the overheated atmosphere indoors.
Ryan spared repeated glances at her brother, always finding the differences between him and the rest of the family fascinating. Rory was not nearly as small as the typical Ryan, but he shared every other feature with their mother's side of the family. His deep auburn hair looked as dark as every other O'Flaherty when the light was dim, as it was now, but when the sun shone, the deep red tones predominated. He was also the only member of the family to inherit the sea-green eyes that were common to the Ryans, with both of Ryan's grandparents bearing similar shades of green.
Rory's facial structure also didn't resemble his siblings', the strong jaw and deep-set eyes absent from his face. He most closely resembled their Uncle Brendan, their mother's only brother, who had died before any of them were born. The family had only a few precious photographs of the young man, tragically killed when hit by a car while riding his bicycle to a nearby town. Fionnuala had been pregnant at the time and unable to travel to attend his funeral, but she and Martin had immediately agreed that their child would bear her brother's name. 
As Ryan snuck another glimpse of her brother she thought once again how very much he looked like the talented young man whom everyone had such high hopes for. He was considered a math prodigy, and Ryan assumed she took after him with her abilities in the field. It struck her that her grandparents had basically lost three of their four children in just a few years-two gone for America, the third lost to death.
Rory broke her reverie when he commented, "I've got to tell you, Sis, it was quite a surprise to see how firmly ensconced into the family Jamie's mom seems."
"Yeah, it's been amazing, to tell you the truth. I started out thinking things would be great with her dad, and he's turned out to be...well, I'm not sure how that's going to work out," she admitted, not wanting to go into details. "I was sure that I would never like her mom since Jamie felt so abandoned by her. But Catherine's trying so hard to rebuild their relationship that I started to like her the moment I met her. I guess it really is unfair to prejudge people."
"Oh, I forgot that I have a message for you from Granny," he said with twinkling eyes. "I have a letter for you, but she also gave me clear instructions on a physical aspect of her message."
"Oh-oh," she said. "It must be bad if you have to hand deliver it. It's not a beating, is it?" She was clearly kidding, but both siblings knew that their grandmother had a tendency to express her displeasure with their behavior through a physical manifestation.
"Nope." He put his beer on the railing and wrapped his bigger but younger sister in a generous hug. As he pulled back Ryan gave him a curious smile and said, "That's it?"
"No, that's never 'it' with her. She said that just because you were big enough to go giving your heart away to the first pretty face you saw didn't mean that she couldn't still take you over her knee if you misbehaved yourself."
"Wow, that's a ringing endorsement from Granny. Do you think it bothered her that I wrote to her about my relationship?"
"I think she would have preferred to hear from you in person, but she seemed to take it well. Aunt Moira said she showed her the letter and asked, 'Does the child think I'm senile? I could have predicted this when she was six!'" 
"That's a good one," Ryan laughed. "She probably could have, too. As I told Jamie, she really does know people."
"Yep. She's also good at telling people what she knows!"

The party was reaching its zenith when Martin climbed a few stairs so that he could be seen and called the gathering to attention. Maeve was standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting a little nervously for the announcement.
"Give us a listen, eh?" he called out in his clear baritone voice. The crowd quieted slowly, the boisterous group not used to being asked to settle down.
When he was satisfied with the noise level he began. "I have some very good news to share with all of you, and this seemed like the perfect time to do so. My family is all together once again, and there are some indications that we may be expanding soon." He leveled a pointed glance at his blushing oldest son, who chose that moment to hide his face behind Maggie's head.
"Never let it be said that any of the O'Flaherty children got the drop on their old man," he insisted, smiling broadly. "The last wedding we celebrated was my own," he said. "As luck would have it, the next will also be mine." There was a muffled whisper that rushed around the room, the conjecture focusing on one blushing woman who gazed up at Martin with a look of pure adoration.
"Not many men are gifted with the love of one of the Ryan sisters of Killala, County Mayo," he smiled. "Against all reasonable odds, I've been lucky enough to have won the hearts of not one, but two of the gorgeous colleens." He extended his hand and Maeve climbed the few stairs, settling herself against his body, beaming a brilliant smile at the assembled guests. "Maeve Ryan Driscoll has made me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to become my wife," he announced, his happiness bursting forth from every fiber of his being.
For just a second, the room grew so still that the ticking clock on the mantle provided the only sound. Then all of the O'Flaherty and Driscoll children simultaneously began to cheer and clap, the other members of the family joining in as the shock faded. Eventually, every one of the assembled throng was hooting and yelling, the boisterous approval perfectly in keeping with the O'Flaherty family style.
Everyone had to hug and kiss both members of the happy couple, with a few rather pointed, teasing comments about Martin having lured another of the Ryan sisters into his snare. Patrick had to remind Martin that Maeve had already gained her citizenship, and therefore didn't really need his help to stay in the country. Martin accepted the teasing with good spirit, pleased that his family felt comfortable enough to include his late wife in the jokes.
After all of the family members had flocked around them, Catherine finally approached and offered a hesitant hug to both Martin and Maeve. "I am so happy for you both," she enthused. "I'm sure you'll have a very successful marriage."
Maeve smiled sweetly at her betrothed. "I made a foolish mistake the first time, Catherine. I was too young and too headstrong to listen to people who urged me to take some time to get to know my husband before we married. I certainly haven't made that mistake this time." She grasped Martin's hand and gave it a tender kiss. "I've seen this man show exactly what it means to be a good husband. He's been through the worst of times, and I'm going to do my best to make sure he enjoys nothing but the best."
"You know," Catherine said thoughtfully, "people are always impressed by young love. But there is something so rewarding about seeing mature adults deciding to merge their lives. It's quite touching."
"Thank you, Catherine," Maeve said. "I may be 57 years old, but I'm as happy as a schoolgirl!"
"Having the support of our family is all that really matters," Martin insisted.
Deirdre O'Flaherty and Niall approached, the young man smiling shyly. "Go on, Niall, tell your uncle your idea," Deirdre urged.
Niall looked a little sheepish as he admitted, "Well, Mam here was just pointing out that at the rate I'm going I'll still be working on my house when I'm ready for Social Security..." 
His mother tossed her arm around his waist and said, "The lad doesn't want to leave home, but he's too proud to admit it!"
"That's not true, Mam," he insisted. "I'm just very particular about things." His mother gave him an aggrieved sigh as he continued, "There are a lot of big things I'd still like to do, but it sure would be nice to have a little income to help pay for the repairs. I thought that if you two needed a place to live, you might want to rent my place for a couple of years, while I save up a few bucks."
Martin shot a look at his beloved, their faces merging into twin smiles. "What do you think of that, Mrs. Driscoll?"
"I can't think of a better landlord, Mr. O'Flaherty. And we're assured of the quality of the craftsmanship since the construction workers are our own children."
"You've solved our biggest problem, lad," Martin said, wrapping his arms around his nephew and giving him a grateful hug. "If we can afford the rent, you have a deal."
"Don't worry about that, Uncle Marty," Niall assured him. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."
"Now we just have to start planning this wedding," Catherine joined in, always excited to participate in a joyous celebration.
Martin rolled his eyes dramatically, "Let's just savor the fact that we'll have a roof over our heads. I can't take too much more excitement for one day!"
Catherine and Maeve both shook their heads at his exaggeration. "The poor man has a terribly weak constitution," Maeve informed Catherine. "Let's go make a cup of tea and we can give him some peace."
Jamie and Ryan had wandered over during the discussion with Niall, and they stayed behind as the older women departed. "That pair could be dangerous," Ryan decided, giving her father fair warning.
"Indeed you're right, Siobhan," he agreed, smiling broadly. "But as you know, strong-minded women make life worth living."

"Hey, Slugger," Jamie said in greeting as she sat down to join her partner on the small porch that overhung the neat backyard.
"Hey there yourself," Ryan smiled and leaned over for a small kiss. "What's up?"
"Not much. Haven't seen you for a while, so I decided to come find you. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Ryan said, giving her partner a reassuring grin. "I was just thinking about my granny."
"Did Rory say something...?"
"Yep. I got a letter and a hug," she said. "I'll show you the letter when we get back into the light."
"Don't keep me waiting! What did she have to say?"
Ryan looked up into the night sky, trying to decide how to characterize the missive. "You won't think it's very positive," she guessed, "but knowing her like I do, I'm pleased."
"That sounds a little ominous," Jamie said, furrowing her brow slightly. "Tell me."
Ryan grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze, then placed it on her thigh before she rested her own hand atop it. "She wrote it, of course," she smiled. "I'm certain that my grandfather has the ability to write, but I must admit that I've never seen his handwriting. Granny is the voice of the Ryan family."
"I've gotten that impression," Jamie said dryly.
"Right. Well, I can condense her message into a few main points. One...she's a little sorry that I'm gay."
With her brow furrowing deeper Jamie nodded, having a feeling that might be the reaction.
"Two...she thinks that gay people have an obligation to be celibate."
She flinched as Jamie convulsively squeezed her thigh, then patted the clenched hand reassuringly. "I just don't get that, Ryan," she sighed, leaning her head against her partner's shoulder.
"I certainly don't agree, but it does fit with the entire world view," the dark woman said thoughtfully. "It doesn't surprise me in the least that Granny feels that way." She turned to Jamie and smiled as she said, "The good part is that she's very glad that I've found my life-mate. She said that she understands that Americans don't feel the need to be monogamous..." She snuck a peek at her partner, her eyes dancing impishly, "and she was happy that I wasn't one of those Godless heathens." 
"Well!" Jamie leaned back on her hands, shaking her head a little. "You think this is good news, huh?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, her smile showing her happiness. "I really do. You won't see it this way, but that's a big show of support from Granny. She's very old-school, Jamie, and to be happy that I've partnered with a woman is a real sign of her love for me."
Patting her partner's thigh, Jamie said, "If you're happy-I'm happy. I really can't wait to meet this woman, Ryan. She sounds interesting, to say the least."
"I want you to meet the whole clan," Ryan said. "I wish we would have gone this summer. I really miss them all...especially my aunt and Aisling."
"Has your cousin always been okay with your sexuality? You've never talked about that."
Ryan chuckled as she said, "She's known practically as long as I have." She turned slightly and faced her partner. "We're close, Jamie. As close or closer than sisters, but I didn't tell her about Sara when it happened...I just couldn't make myself talk about it. I went to Ireland just a few weeks after the entire thing went down and stayed for the whole summer, mostly because I just couldn't stand to think about running into Sara. I tried to talk about it-Aisling knew something major was wrong-but I just couldn't get it out," she said softly.
"How did you finally tell her?" Jamie asked.
"I didn't exactly tell her," Ryan grinned. "We went in to Ballina...that's the big town in North Mayo," she added. "I think it was a Pioneers dance, or something like that."
"Pioneers?"
"Don't ask,' Ryan said, rolling her eyes. "The Pioneers Total Temperance Association. Granny's a big fan, and she had to make sure Aisling and I were properly indoctrinated."
"Ooh," Jamie laughed. "Temperance and you? I don't know, Buffy."
"Hey, I still remember the pledge," she chuckled. "Thy greater glory and consolation, 0 Sacred Heart of Jesus. For Thy sake to give good example, to practice self-denial, to make reparation to Thee for the sins of intemperance, and for the conversion of excessive drinkers, I will abstain for life from all intoxicating drinks." 
Her eyes twinkling merrily, Jamie asked, "How long did that pledge last, Love?"
"That's part of the story," Ryan assured her.
"Okay," Jamie chuckled. "You were out dancing and not drinking. So what happened?"
"Gráinne happened," she said wistfully, giving her partner a doe-eyed look. "I met this adorable woman, and while Aisling was dancing with the boys, I was out in the car-park with Gráinne."
"Oh, you were quite the prodigy, weren't you," Jamie teased, giving her a playful tickle. 
"Well, I don't like to brag..." she grinned. "Anyway, Gráinne had a scooter, just a tiny thing, but she moved it to the far edge of the car-park and we got on, facing each other. We started making out furiously...I mean, we were really going at it. I certainly wasn't the voice of experience, and Gráinne hadn't done much either, but we were practically tearing each other's clothes off. All that pent up energy from practicing self-denial," she said, laughing softly.
"On a scooter," Jamie said dubiously.
"Yep. On a scooter. She had unclasped my bra and had one hand under my shirt, the other inside my pants, when we heard this startled cry. I whipped my head around to find Aisling, just about to get into some guy's car to do the same thing I was doing with Gráinne," she chuckled. 
"Oh my God," Jamie moaned, dropping her head into her hands in sympathy for her partner. "What did you do?"
Ryan tossed her head back and laughed, remembering her cousin's expression. "Aisling is one of the most laid-back people you will ever meet," she said. "Nothing ruffles her feathers. She put her hands on her hips and said, 'Siobhan! What's come over you, showing your knickers to every Pioneer in Ballina!'"
"Was she really upset?" Jamie asked tentatively.
"Yeah, but she was upset because I was being so blatant, not because Gráinne was a girl. She orders us into the backseat of this poor guy's car, and we just looked at each other and climbed in." She was chuckling louder now, remembering the scene. "That poor fellow had my cute little cousin in the front seat, and a couple of women making out in the back. Aisling told me later that he...um...didn't take long to uh...you know," she said delicately. "She didn't even have to help."
Jamie was shaking her head the whole time, charmed by her lover's youthful misadventures. "You two sound like quite the pair."
"Oh, we are. She was such a pal that summer. I saw Gráinne the whole summer, and no one ever knew a thing. Aisling would come with me to Ballina and go to a movie or hang out in a bookstore while Gráinne and I attacked each other wherever we could find a little privacy."
"She sounds like a good friend as well as a cousin."
"She is," Ryan agreed. "She's my best friend...next to you, that is."
Jamie got up and tried to get her blood moving again. "I want to hear more about this scooter," she said. "That sounds like it could be fun."
"Oh, it was fun," Ryan agreed. "That little thing got a good workout that summer."
"I bet you could have even more fun on a slightly bigger bike," she ventured. "Like...I don't know...on a Harley?"
"Heh heh heh," Ryan laughed, her low voice taking on a very sexy timbre.

"Ready to take off, Catherine?" Ryan asked as she slid her arm around her mother-in-law's shoulders.
"Yes, I should. Now that you have me living the good life, I can't stay up most of the night any longer. You've turned me into a morning person, Ryan, much to my amazement."
"My Granny always says that every hour you're up after midnight takes two hours off your life," Ryan joked. "Funny thing is-she believes that."
"She might have a point," Catherine smiled. "Goodness knows I feel younger than I have in years."
"You look like you feel better," Ryan agreed, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek.
Jamie wandered up and put her arm around her mother's waist. "Going home soon?"
"Indeed I am."
"We'll walk you to your car," Jamie offered.
"Be right there," Ryan said, slipping through the crowd to have a quick word with her father. 
They deposited Catherine next to her car and on the walk back Ryan made a suggestion. "Wanna go for a little ride to watch the lights of the city?"
"A ride?" Jamie asked, her face scrunching up in question. "During a party?"
"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "I told Da that we might be gone for a while. Don't know why, but I have a real hankering to hop on my bike. Can I persuade you?" she asked, her eyes glittering in the moonlight.
"Oh gee, Ryan, I don't know," she replied, looking like she was seriously considering the proposition. "A warm, moonlit night, sitting behind you with my arms wrapped around your waist, all of that power thrumming through my body." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I suppose I could be persuaded."
"Come on," the dark beauty said, grasping her hand firmly and tugging her along. "My temperature's rising, Baby, and I want to share my heat with you."
"Yet another fabulous idea from the fertile O'Flaherty mind," Jamie decided as she scampered along.

"Come here often?" Jamie asked as Ryan placed their helmets on the ground.
Ryan looked down at the twinkling lights of the city and considered how often she had been up at the top of Twin Peaks. "Yeah, quite often. This is one of my favorite places," she admitted.
"And just how many young women have lost their virtue to your voracious appetites up here?" She was clearly kidding, but Ryan could hear just a tiny shred of disappointment in her voice.
"You'll be the first," Ryan assured her. "No retreads for you."
"That was silly of me to even ask," Jamie conceded. "I know how you feel about that."
"I will never suggest that we go any place that I've taken another woman," Ryan pledged. She reached out and captured her lover's hand in hers and tenderly stroked her face with the tips of the fingers of her other hand. "Even though being with you would eradicate the image of any other woman, I'll never do that."
"I never told you this," Jamie said, "but I bought a new mattress the week after you told me that you loved me. I thought about the fact that I had slept with Jack there a few times, and it just seemed...wrong somehow to share that bed with you."
"How do you feel about tonight?" Ryan asked. "I mean, fooling around on a bike is clearly something that you know I've done before."
Wrapping her partner in a hug, Jamie said, "We can't make everything brand new, Ryan. There are limits to the imagination, you know. I mean, unless we figure out a way to make love in zero gravity, I assume you've done most of what we've done previously."
"Who says I've not made love in zero gravity?" Ryan huffed playfully.
"Point well taken," Jamie said with a smile. "It's not that I need or want everything to be brand new, but it's nice to know that the venues are ours alone. That's all I want."
"You'll have it," Ryan smiled. She looked around at the deserted street and said, "There isn't much traffic up here at this time of night, but I don't think it's wise to go too far. I thought it would be nice to just kiss and touch each other a little...just a little foreplay for the main event when we get home."
"Sounds good," Jamie agreed. "It's so quiet and peaceful and romantic here that I'm happy to just stand here and have you hold me."
"One of my favorite activities," Ryan agreed, doing just that.
They stood in the warm, still night, Jamie leaning up against her partner's sturdy body, Ryan's arms draped over her shoulders. The lights of the city were mesmerizing from their vantage point, and they both took them in, conversation unnecessary. After a while, Jamie lifted her hands and grasped Ryan's forearms, and let her head rest against her shoulder. "I feel so incredibly peaceful," she sighed. "This is magical."
"It is," Ryan agreed, her voice soft and gentle. "I've been here many, many times, but this is the time I'll think of when I think of Twin Peaks."
"That's what I mean," Jamie said emphatically, turning in Ryan's loose embrace to face her. "Even though we do things that each of us might have done before, it doesn't seem like something we've done before-it feels fresh and new because we create our own memories. The past just fades away."
"It does," Ryan agreed. She smiled gently at her partner and said, "Want to create some new memories on my bike?"
"You're on!" Taking Ryan by the hand, they walked back to the bike, which was mostly hidden by the shrubs that dotted the hillside. Ryan got on first, facing the rear, and held the bike steady as she helped Jamie climb aboard. The two-step seat allowed them to position themselves to good effect. With the back half of the seat three inches higher than the front, Jamie was able to drape her legs across Ryan's thighs, and not cut off her circulation, and after a little squirming around, they were both quite comfortable.
Even though the night was warm, there was still a cool breeze coming off the Bay, and after just a moment or two, Jamie could feel the stark contrast between the chilled air and the heat that radiated from between her partner's legs. "You're a good 20 degrees warmer right here than anywhere else on your body," Jamie teased, giving her a gentle pat.
"Complaining?" the dark woman asked.
"Hardly," she scoffed. "I love it." She locked her hands around Ryan's neck and said, "Sometimes I get up in the night and when I come back to bed my hands are cold. I cuddle up behind you and put my hands down between your legs just like a quarterback does to the center on a football team. Two seconds...I'm warm."
"That's why quarterbacks do it," Ryan teased. "You should see the tryouts for center." She rolled her eyes and said, "Talk about homoerotic!"
"You are sooooo goofy," Jamie giggled. "I love goofy."
"Hmmm...I'd prefer that you found me sexy and seductive and completely alluring...but I'll take goofy." She bent her head and kissed her partner, all traces of goofiness gone as soon as their lips met. Teasing Jamie's lips open with the tip of her tongue, Ryan delved into her warm mouth, exploring languidly as Jamie's tongue slid over hers, twin moans breaking the silence of the night.
Drawing back, Jamie sighed as she rested her forehead against Ryan's. "Nice," she breathed.
"More," Ryan insisted, lifting her partner's chin with her fingers. Their mouths merged again, the passion flaring between them as their embrace grew tighter.
Jamie started to pull away again, but Ryan pulled her even closer and once again whispered, "More." Before she leaned back in, she took in the expression on Ryan's face. Her blue eyes looked nearly black in the moonlight, her desire having rendered them dark and smoldering. Jamie had a feeling they were not just going to kiss a little, but she didn't mind a bit. No one had ventured along this part of the road, and even if they did, they would likely not see them. Throwing caution to the wind, she settled down into Ryan's fervid embrace and let the dark beauty lead wherever she chose.
It didn't take long until Ryan's hands were on her ass, pulling her against herself roughly. As the sexy hips thrust against Jamie, she couldn't help but return the sensation, and they kissed frantically as their hips ground against each other. 
In the blink of an eye, Ryan's hands were under her sweater, expertly unhooking Jamie's bra. The tips of her fingers were cool, but her palms were warm, and the smaller woman shivered all over as the twin sensations washed over her body. Her nipples reacted immediately, tightening into almost painful points as Ryan's hands teased them mercilessly. With a few gentle tugs on the pebbled flesh, Jamie's hips thrust more sharply, grinding roughly against Ryan.
The seam of her jeans hit the perfect spot, and Jamie rocked against Ryan slowly, her arousal building steadily. As her body gave off all of the usual signs of her impending climax, Ryan slipped a hand between them and rubbed against her lover with the pad of her thumb, managing to hit the exact spot that Jamie needed to let go. Her arms locked around Ryan's neck, and she latched onto her mouth with a rabid intensity, kissing her so hard that the dark woman whimpered under the ferocity of her touch. Finally satiated, she clung limply to her partner, breathing in the moist air, filling her lungs with the wild scent of the hills.
"Good Lord," she moaned as she finally caught her breath. "I thought we were going to just kiss and cuddle."
"Didn't work out that way," Ryan chuckled gently. "Do you mind?"
"Aren't you the woman who once said she never met an orgasm she didn't like?" Jamie teased mildly.
"That would be me," Ryan agreed. "Have I brought you around to my way of thinking?"
"Indeed you have. I didn't think I could relax enough up here to let myself go, but you have a way of making me forget my usual inhibitions."
"That's another motto," Ryan smiled. "Eradicate inhibitions. Words to live by."
"Let me get my little hands on you and eradicate a few of yours, Buffy. Come to mama!"
"Love to," Ryan agreed, "but I've been holding this bike up the whole time-despite your thrashing around there at the end. I have my doubts that you'll be able to step in for me."
"Oh ye of little faith," Jamie said, rolling her eyes dramatically. 
A few minutes later, the bike ably supported by the kickstand, Ryan was leaning against her partner, her feet up on the handlebars, Jamie's hand inside her pants, slipping through her wetness. She knew Ryan was so aroused that she could bring her off in seconds, but she wanted to draw her pleasure out as long as she could. Her fingers played gently with the swollen skin, teasing her as she lightly stroked her all over. She never let a rhythm build, and as soon as Ryan started to pant she'd move to another spot, determined to give her a ride to remember.
Sliding her left hand up to grasp Ryan's breast, she began to squeeze the flesh rhythmically, easing off a bit with her right hand. "Oh yeah," Ryan growled, feeling the sensations hit her right between the legs. "Squeeze me hard."
Jamie complied immediately, grasping even more of the firm flesh when she did so. As she palmed the sensitive breast she moved her thumb up to flick the protuberant nipple, making Ryan squirm. The nearly prone woman brought her right hand up and grasped her other breast, mirroring Jamie's touch. Her head tossed back and forth, the throbbing between her legs driving her to distraction. "Come on, Baby, let me come," she begged, her hips grinding as a tortured moan escaped her lips, splitting the silent night.
Immediately fulfilling her request, Jamie's fingers probed deeply, then skimmed lightly over the slick flesh, and she watched with delight as she saw Ryan's chest begin to heave. Her feet jutted straight out as her climax washed over her body, her taut muscles shaking incessantly as she spasmed around Jamie's fingers.
After helping the shaking woman into a more upright position, Jamie wrapped her arms tightly around her and teased, "How did that compare with old Gráinne?"
"Who?" Ryan asked weakly.
"Good answer, Buffy." 

On Monday afternoon volleyball practice was rather sluggish, and it was obvious to Ryan that the team needed an infusion of confidence. Even though they had won the two games in Washington, their record was still two and five, not the kind of tally to be happy with when the upcoming opponent was Stanford. The Cardinal had won the recruiting sweepstakes the year before when the most heavily recruited outside hitter in the country decided to attend the university. Since they also had the NCAA player of the year on their team, they were formidable at any point in the season, even though they had barely squeaked past an unranked team from St. Mary's the week before. They were currently ranked number two nationally, and everyone on Ryan's team knew that the ranking was well deserved.
She hung around after practice and approached Coach Placer. "Hey Coach, would you mind if I tried to liven things up a little tomorrow?"
"I'd be eternally grateful if you could bring some life to this team, Ryan. We were walking around like robots out there today."
"I think a lot of the girls are scared about the game tomorrow. It's never easy to play Stanford, but with a record like ours I think a lot of the younger players feel like they're being led to slaughter."
"Well, what do you have in mind, Ryan?"
"I'm not sure yet. But I think we need to loosen up a lot to have a chance tomorrow. I want to do something playful to take some of the pressure off."
"Did you read about the Ohio State women's rugby team?" he asked, his eyes twinkling impishly
"No, I don't get the reference."
"They were at a tournament in D.C. and they posed at the Lincoln Memorial-bare-chested. It made national news and the school eventually suspended the players who participated."
"Okay," Ryan said slowly. "What's your point?"
"As long as you don't make national news or get suspended, you have my permission to stir these girls up any way you can think of," he said with a laugh as he draped his arm around Ryan's shoulders.

Ryan had been home no more than two minutes when the phone rang. "Hey, Slugger, what are you doing for dinner?" Jordan asked.
"Warming up some leftovers. We're just hanging out tonight. Why, do you want to come over?"
"I want to do something," she whined. "All we do is practice, play matches, and study. I need some excitement!"
"I can't guarantee excitement, but you're welcome to join us. Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes."
"Okay, I'll be there. Maybe I can convince you to go out with me afterwards."
"Well, you can try, but I can't imagine that you'll succeed," she warned, feeling quite confident that she'd be in bed by ten, as usual.

The foursome had a very enjoyable time together and afterwards Jordan begged Ryan and Jamie to hit a few bars with her. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can go to the White Horse. Nobody will hit on us there."
"Isn't that a gay bar?" Mia asked, eyeing the lanky blonde carefully.
Jordan flushed slightly and cleared her throat. "Yeah, it is. Have you ever been?"
"Huh-uh." There was a moment of quiet as Mia cast a slow glance up and down Jordan's body, looking like she was really seeing her for the first time. "Are you gay?"
"Umm, no," Jordan said, the pink flush growing brighter. "Well, um...I'm gayish, but I'm not a fanatic about it."
"Hmm...gayish, huh?" Her face crinkled up in a delighted grin as she leaned slightly closer and said, "That's a really cute term. Did you make it up?"
"I guess so," Jordan smiled. "I uh...don't really consider myself gay or straight, so at the moment I feel kinda gayish." Her clear blue eyes were twinkling, the woman obviously enjoying playing with Mia. She turned towards Ryan once again and asked, "So, are you in or out?"
"I'm out," Ryan decided. "I'm just not in the mood."
"I'm not either," Jamie added, just for the record. 
"I'll go," Mia piped up, a big smile on her sunny face. 
"You want to go to a gay bar?" Ryan asked suspiciously.
"Yeah, it sounds like fun," she said easily. "Is that okay with you, Jordan?"
"Works for me," the blonde agreed. "Are you ready to go?"
"I'm not sure," Mia said. "Is this outfit okay?" She stood up while three pairs of thoughtful eyes assessed her. A white baby tee stopped just under her bra, and a pair of hip-hugging black denim jeans showed off her recently developed abs. A summer in Santa Monica evidenced itself by her golden tan and her new naval ring, which glinted in the lamp light.
Ryan and Jordan shot each other matching smirks as Ryan said, "That's just fine, Mia."
"Okay. I'll go put some shoes on. Be right back."
Jamie got up and said, "I'll start the dishes, Love."
When they were alone, Jordan leaned over and whispered, "Is she gay?"
"No, no, she's rabidly heterosexual. I think her thing is playing and teasing. She's always kidding me about sex and my body, so it's obvious she's very comfortable with gay people, but she's definitely straight."
"She seems like a lot of fun," Jordan speculated, looking up the stairs thoughtfully.
"Oh, she's fun, all right. She has a tendency to have fun by getting wasted, so keep an eye on her, will you? The last thing I want is for her to end up in some woman's bed and not know how she got there."
"Well, you know I don't drink much, so I'll look out for her. We'll just have a couple of beers and hang out."
Mia came trotting back downstairs after applying some lipstick and a little perfume. After both women gave Ryan a kiss goodbye, she led the way out the door with Jordan trotting after her, nose twitching like a beagle's to catch a whiff of her perfume.

After the unlikely pair left, Ryan went into the kitchen to help her partner with the clean-up. "I'm glad Jordan's with Mia tonight. She can keep an eye on her drinking."
"Who's gonna keep an eye on Jordan?" Jamie asked, thinking that the tall beauty wouldn't need much motivation to make a play for her friend.
"I don't know what Jordan's deal is," Ryan mused. "Near as I can tell, she hasn't had a date since I've known her. Who knows? Maybe she's just not interested in sex at this point of her life."
"Mmm-hmm," Jamie thought, reasoning that her roommate could help just about anyone spark their sexual interest if she chose.
Ryan obviously didn't detect the tone of concern in Jamie's voice. She was still focused on her earlier discussion with Coach Placer, and she finally asked for help in her motivation plan. "Do you have any ideas on how to loosen up the team for tomorrow? This is a really big game, but they're so stiff I don't think there's any chance of playing well."
Jamie thought of her own mental preparation before a big golf match and asked, "What do you do as a team to get psyched?"
"Umm, nothing that I know of. I mean we grasp hands and give a 'Go Bears' yell, but we really don't have any traditions that I know of." She looked at Jamie carefully for a minute. "That's a good idea, Hon. We need to institute a playful tradition."
"I know one thing you could do," she suggested. "What time do you get dressed?"
"We start warm ups at 6:30, so I'd say most people will be dressed by 6:15 or so. Why?"
"I want to come over and give you all a little team spirit. Can I come in the locker room?"
"Umm, what do you want to do?" Ryan asked with a waggling brow. "I know how you lift my spirits, but that could get us expelled."
"It's a secret," she said smugly. 
"Okay, you're the boss," Ryan said happily.
"I'm glad you've finally seen the light," she said with a satisfied smile.
 
Part Ten
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Ryan decided to go for a quick run just to get her blood flowing. She had nearly stopped running, the exhausting volleyball practices taking so much of the pop from her legs that she knew it was unwise to put any more strain on her body, but every once in a while she just needed to feel the reassuring pounding of the pavement beneath her feet, and today was such a morning. 
Dashing into the kitchen for a bottle of sports drink, she almost swallowed her teeth when she found Jordan sitting on a chair with Mia firmly ensconced in her lap, giving her mouth a very thorough inspection with her tongue. Jamie came in the room right behind her and literally ran into Ryan’s back. They both stood and stared at the twosome who finally came up for air. Mia blithely remarked, "Haven’t you ever seen people kiss before?"
Ryan walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, turning and walking right back out of the kitchen without a word. Jamie was still rooted in place, so Mia got up and came over to pat her on the cheek. "It’s okay, Jamie. It happens in the best of families!"

Jordan came running down the stairs after Ryan, calling, "Hey! Wait up! Can I have a ride home?"
"I’m not taking my car, Jordan. I’m going for a run. If you want to join me, I’ll wait until you go slip into some of my running clothes."
The lanky blonde considered the proposition for a moment, then shrugged and asked, "Where’s your stuff?"
"I’ll get you something," Ryan offered, not really happy at having to wait, but mildly interested in what was going on. Jordan followed her upstairs where Ryan pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of nylon shorts, the type of outfit that Jordan normally wore to run in. 
Jordan started to strip as soon as they entered the room, and she shimmied into the shorts as Ryan tossed them to her. "I could really use a shower first," she muttered.
Making a mental note to wash the clothes as soon as they returned, Ryan joked, "So…you have sex all night long, don’t take a shower, and then you ask to borrow clothes. Sweet."
"I didn’t have sex," Jordan averred. "I just want to shower to wake up after being up all night."
"What in the heck were you doing all night? The night before a big game, I might add!"
Jordan was dressed now and they went back outside, starting off nice and slow to let their muscles loosen up. "I don’t really know where the time went, Ryan," she said thoughtfully. "We just hit it off really well, you know? We started talking, and we danced a little, and before I knew it, the place was closing."
"That was four hours ago," Ryan reminded her with a scowl.
"I know. It was funny. I uh…wasn’t the least bit tired, and neither was she. We came back here and got her car and went up into the hills just to watch the lights of the city." A fond, winsome look covered her face as she said, "It was a beautiful night."
"So you sat in her car and made out all night?" This seemed a strange way to Ryan to spend the evening when a nice soft bed was easily attainable.
Jordan looked a little taken aback. "No, we didn’t ‘make out’ as you so eloquently put it. We didn’t kiss until just a minute or two before you came down. Good timing, by the way," she added, shooting a teasing look Ryan’s way.
"Sorry about that," Ryan grinned. "I just had no idea. I was certain that Mia was as straight as I am gay."
Jordan gave her a puzzled look and commented, "You ought to spend some time talking to her, Ryan. She’s really fascinating when you get past the airhead façade."
That’s a façade?

When Ryan got home from her run she noticed that Mia’s door was open. She walked in and started looking around the room, eventually poking her head in the closet. "What are you looking for, Ryan?"
"You’re not hiding any of my other teammates or any of my brothers in here, are you?"
Mia looked at her carefully for a moment. Her face broke into a wide grin as she said, "Hey, Jamie’s right. Your eyes do twinkle when you’re kidding!"

True to her word, Jamie came barreling into the locker room at 5:30 that evening bearing a small gray plastic box. She wasn’t surprised to find that Ryan was the only one present, since she knew her partner would feel calmer at the gym than at home. "Hi," Ryan said happily upon glimpsing her face.
"Oh, my," Jamie murmured as she caught sight of her lanky lover in her uniform. "You certainly fill those shorts out," she said softly as she trailed just the tips of her fingers up her strong quadriceps and then down her firm cheeks. The uniform certainly did flatter Ryan’s build. The short-sleeved white nylon jersey with the bold "Cal" in gold outlined in navy blue emphasized her strong, broad shoulders. The shirt was tucked into the tiniest, tightest shorts that Jamie had ever had the pleasure to see her lover in. Even though Ryan often wore compression shorts, she usually chose the nine-inch inseam to keep her thighs warm. But these little navy blue Lycra shorts with the tiny "Cal" logo on the thigh were no more than three inches long, and Jamie quickly decided that three inches was the perfect length for her long legged lover.
"Can you tell I’m not wearing anything under my shorts?" Ryan asked as she bent over a little.
"Not with my eyes," Jamie purred as she snuggled up behind her and ran her hands all over her muscled rear, and then dragged a fingernail right up the rear seam of the shorts.
"Jamie!" Ryan shouted standing up abruptly. "The rest of the team will be here any minute! I don’t want you feeling me up in public!"
"They all know we’re lovers," she reminded her.
"But that doesn’t mean they want to see us be lovers!" Ryan was still flustered, and Jamie found her expression endearingly adorable.
"Why, Ryan O’Flaherty, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you worry about anyone’s reaction to us. Do you think it makes your teammates uncomfortable to have me around?"
"No, no, that’s not it," she said with a blush. "It’s just—I don’t know—it’s like too personal or something. I’d feel the same way if you were a guy. Athletes just tease each other a lot and I know I’d be harassed if anyone saw you grabbing my ass."
"Okay, I promise to keep my hands to myself. But that’s asking a lot when you prance around in that adorable uniform!"
"Do you like it?" Ryan asked a little shyly, looking down at her body.
"I love it," Jamie replied sincerely.
"I thought maybe I’d look too skinny in it," Ryan considered, showing more of her vanity than Jamie had ever noticed. She was staring at herself in the mirror, running her hand over her now concave stomach.
"Uh-uh," Jamie insisted. She braced herself against the door to prohibit it from swinging open and said, "Come over here so I can show you how much I like your outfit." Ryan gave her an indulgent grin and walked over to receive a very hot kiss. Jamie’s hands ran all over her body, sending delightful shivers down Ryan’s spine. "Even though I like you with a little more bulk, you look fabulous in this. Your weight loss got rid of that nice soft layer I love, and now all that’s left is muscle." She gave Ryan a devastatingly sexy smile as she reminded her, "You know how I feel about your muscles." She grasped two hands full of butt and whispered, "For hugging, and touching, and making love, I like a little softness. But from a purely visual perspective you look as hot as I’ve ever seen you—or anyone else for that matter," she added, meaning every word.
She spent a few minutes kissing Ryan with a quiet passion, knowing that being slightly aroused always relaxed her partner. As she released her, Ryan shook her head to clear it as Jamie added, "Now I have to give you my good luck wish." She wrapped Ryan in a massive hug as she said, "I know you’ll do well tonight, Baby. I’m so proud of how hard you’ve worked to be able to play."
"Thank, Jamie," she softly replied. "It’s only because of your support that I got this chance. I appreciate this more than I can say."
After several heartfelt kisses Jamie pulled back and said, "How did you get your hair up that tightly?" Ryan’s shoulder length hair was pulled up into a very snug ponytail, and it sat much higher on her head than she normally wore it.
"I had to have it this high to keep my bangs pulled back," she said. "And I still had to put clips in to hold it in place. It took me longer to get my hair tamed than it did to get dressed!"
"Well you look very cute. Although I would prefer to have that dark mane flying around, your ponytail is quite neat. Now let’s get down to business. You get to be my first victim. Where do you want your tattoo?"
"Tattoo?"
"Well, it’s a fake one, but I can make it look pretty real," she promised. She opened her art supply case and showed Ryan her nontoxic body paint and the other implements of her craft. "Now what do you want and where do you want it?" she asked with eyes dancing.
"Can you do a volleyball?"
"Sure. Do you want the logo on it?"
"No, how about the gold script ‘Cal’ in the middle of the ball."
"I can do that easily," she said confidently. "Now where do you want it?"
"How about the side of my arm, right by the bicep."
"That would be my recommendation," she agreed.
By the time Jordan and Michelle sauntered in Ryan was flexing her colorful new tat. Jamie was extremely pleased with her work and within a few moments everyone was lined up to receive their choice. Jordan chose the ‘Oski Bear’ head but she wanted it on her cheek so the Stanford players would have to see it when she was at the net. Michelle wanted a big ‘Cal’ script just above her sock. Jamie smirked to herself when shy little Heather Clark asked for Ryan’s advice on what she should choose. It was all Jamie could do to not chuckle when the young woman approached and asked Jamie to give her one just like Ryan’s. Within a few minutes everyone was decorated, and even Jamie noticed the mood in the locker room lighten perceptibly as everyone stood around voicing their opinions on the style and placement of each new tattoo. 
Jamie noticed that everyone wore their hair pulled up severely and it took quite a while for the entire team to be satisfied with their ‘dos. But by 6:20 they were ready to take the court, and Ryan surprised her partner when she gave her a big kiss for luck as they wandered out to begin warm-ups.
When Jamie emerged from the locker room there were no more than 30 people in the stands, but as she expected at least 20 of them were O’Flahertys. She made her way to the section that they were claiming and spent a few minutes greeting each relative. Just as she finished, Tommy and Caitlin came in with Maeve and Kevin, and a few more warm greetings were exchanged. "Oh my," Maeve said when she got a look at her niece, "doesn’t she look big and strong in that little outfit."
"She gets annoyed when you call it an outfit, Maeve," Jamie knowledgeably informed her. "It’s a uniform." Caitlin was fidgeting to get to Jamie so she set her painting supplies down and took the gurgling infant in her arms. Things went smoothly for a few minutes, but when the baby caught sight of Ryan she vocally demanded access to her favorite cousin. Since there were so few people in the gym Ryan paused in her stretching routine and trotted up into the stands for a sloppy kiss. As long as she was there she stopped to give every aunt, uncle, cousin, and brother a kiss and a hug. But when she tried to return to the court, Caitlin put up a whale of a fuss. She hadn’t been seeing as much of Ryan as usual because of Ryan’s illness and her hectic schedule. So when she got her hands on her cousin she did not want to let go. Since it was early, and Stanford was still in their dressing room, Ryan ran down the stairs holding the baby so she could meet the other players. Everyone made over her for a few minutes, and Caitlin delighted the women by kissing each of them on command. The fun was over much too soon, but when the coaching staff came onto the court it was time to get busy. Ryan raced back up the stairs and deposited a cranky baby with Jamie and gave her a small shoulder shrug as she raced back down.
The stands began to fill quickly, and then Jamie noticed the members of the band begin to straggle in. Soon there were a good fifty members of the group squeezed into the stands, and as they began to tune their instruments, Jamie realized this was going to be a very noisy experience. 
She had never watched a women’s college-level game, and as they began their drills, she realized that the game she had played in elementary school and high school gym class had nothing in common with this sport. This one was all about speed and quickness and jumping ability and athleticism. The women threw their bodies around with little regard for their safety, but Jamie was somewhat heartened by the resilient surface that had been put in place over the hardwood floor. That might keep Ryan from a few trips to the emergency room, she mused as she watched her partner hit the floor hard and do a little somersault to bleed off some of the force.
Catherine arrived to the great pleasure of Caitlin, who was fully placated by the arrival of her new friend. The happy baby climbed into her lap immediately to play with Catherine’s face and her heavy gold necklace. Warm greetings were extended from all of the O’Flahertys with Maeve leading the way. "I’m glad you could make it, Mom," Jamie said as she placed a kiss on her cheek. "Ryan will really appreciate it."
"I wouldn’t have missed this for the world," she said sincerely. "I can go to the symphony any night."
Jamie knew that the San Francisco Symphony was one of the favorite events on her mother’s busy schedule, and she was quite touched that she would give it up just to watch Ryan play volleyball. 
Catherine looked about and commented, "Interesting look for the band, Honey. Where on earth do they even purchase straw hats any more?"
Jamie shrugged, rolling her eyes a little as she said, "They’re called the Straw Hat Band, so the hats are mandatory. They must have a secret supplier." Both women gazed at the members of the band, clad in their straw boaters, navy blue vests and jeans. Even though they were making a tentative attempt at uniformity, the fact that each person covered nearly every centimeter of the vests with patches, badges and pins allowed them to maintain their individuality.
Catherine leaned over and asked, "Do you know much about this game, Dear? It’s been many years since I’ve seen a volleyball match."
"No, I don’t know much at all. Ryan talks about it with all of this jargon, and I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t think that will hamper my enjoyment, though. Heck, I get pleasure out of watching her work at her computer!"
"That doesn’t surprise me in the least," Catherine chuckled. "I’ve seen you watch her in rapt fascination when she’s studying a menu at a restaurant!"
The younger woman shrugged her shoulders and said, "What can I say? She’s inherently fascinating." As Jamie surveyed the court, she decided, There’s only one thing I really need to know to enjoy the game—that Ryan is playing. That decided, she went back to her favorite activity of watching her partner like a hawk. Ryan was a blur of activity during their warm-ups; and when she wasn’t actively hitting or slamming or blocking the ball, she was animatedly talking to the younger players.
At seven o’clock Stanford came running out of the visitors’ locker room and took over the court. Jamie thought it funny that the Cal players acted like they didn’t know the other side was there. Ryan’s team just casually walked off like they had all decided it was time to take a break. But when they got to their own sideline, they spread out and watched Stanford with rapt attention. Both of Cal’s assistant coaches went out on the court to shag balls for the Cardinal, and Niall informed Jamie that they provided that service mainly to get a good feel for how the other team stacked up.
Jamie didn’t know much about volleyball, but it was clear that this team was good. They were very tall, very agile, and very athletic, and all of those skills were displayed during their warm ups. "They look good," Jamie mused to Niall.
"They are good," he said seriously. "They are very good."
They watched the Cardinal go through the same types of drills that Cal had gone through, and at 7:10 Cal got the court back for their final warm ups. Ryan ran over to the curtain that separated the court from the rest of the large gymnasium and poked her head through. She was obviously speaking to someone, and when she popped back out loud music started coming from the public address system. The players seemed to get into the music, and Jamie noticed that they were all speaking to each other in an animated fashion. As the songs changed, they looked like they were trying to guess who had chosen each particular one. Then it dawned on Jamie why Ryan had called each of her teammates the night before. She had obviously asked each of them for their favorite song and had arranged to have them played during the warm up.
After a few minutes Stanford took the court at the same time, and the teams each stood back on the service lines and simultaneously hit serves at each other. There were 30 balls flying in the air and Jamie could not understand how someone did not get hit in the head, but they all seemed cognizant of where the balls were at all times. Amy’s song was obviously cued up because she started hopping around when Cyndi Lauper started to wail out "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." She forced Ryan to stop serving for a moment and dance wildly with her behind the service line, looking very loose and carefree.
Jamie happily noted that the antics of the upperclassmen seemed to visibly relax the younger players, and they began to dance around a bit also. It was almost 7:25 by this time, and the teams stopped their serving practice and paired off to warm up by tossing the ball back and forth. Most of the pairs passed the ball in a leisurely fashion, but Jordan and Ryan made the game a little more interesting. They started off like everyone else, but within a few tosses they were hitting the ball with more and more velocity. They were standing about 20 feet from each other, and as the game escalated Ryan’s song came on. She had chosen "Jump" by Van Halen and as she and Jordan tried to kill each other, she began to jump as high as she could every time the word was sung. It was truly mesmerizing to watch 15 women hitting the ball back and forth while they jumped in the air in time to the music, and they all got into the game quickly.
Catherine leaned over and asked, "Is that Ryan’s friend you’ve talked about?"
"Yep. That’s her," Jamie smirked. "Good thing I’m not the jealous type, huh?"
Catherine chuckled and said, "Oh, Jamie, you have nothing to worry about. If those two were together they’d be dead in a week!"
Watching them play their little game, Jamie had to admit that Ryan and Jordan could never be a couple. They were far too competitive with each other to ever be vulnerable enough to open up to each other fully. But as she watched she realized that even though she had never been jealous of Jordan sexually, she did envy her athletic ability. As she watched the interplay, Jamie saw Ryan’s eyes take on a familiar glow, and she whispered to her mother, "Buffy’s back."
Just when the gleam came into Ryan’s eyes, Jordan’s song came on. She had chosen "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and they watched with rapt attention as Ryan began to spike the ball at Jordan’s knees with as much power as she could generate. The sharp smack of the ball echoed through the auditorium as the entire crowd focused on the two women who looked like they were trying to hit the ball through the other rather than to the other. 
It was obvious that neither woman would back down, and the other pairs started to move further and further from them to avoid being hit. The pair switched roles, and now Jordan was doing the spiking, with Ryan digging. Jordan kept hitting hard knuckleballs right at Ryan’s feet, but no matter how low or how hard she hit, Ryan dug each one out and returned a scorcher. Jamie was beginning to worry that they would hurt each other, and the assistant coach obviously was worried about the same thing since she gingerly approached and told them to knock it off. Ryan gave her a sheepish grin and immediately started to play nice. But as the song ended and they started to walk back to the bench, Jordan had to zing a hard serve right into Ryan’s butt. The rest of the team had to wait for a moment as Ryan tried to chase Jordan down, but the blonde ran onto Stanford’s side of the net and tried to get into their huddle. The entire crowd laughed at their antics, and even Coach Placer seemed to get a kick out of it. The Stanford team pushed Jordan out of their midst, then watched Ryan put a firm headlock on her and drag her back to their own side.
"You’re certain that they’re friends, Dear?" Catherine asked as she watched the drama unfold.
"Yep. She’s used to a lot of rough play from growing up with her brothers and cousins, but I think Jordan is the only woman who brings out that rough side of her."
"Lucky for you," Catherine laughed, knowing that her daughter would be no match for the wild side of Ryan.
The band performed a reasonably professional rendition of the Star Spangled Banner at 7:30 on the dot. The starting lineups were introduced by the very enthusiastic announcer, and Jamie smiled at the exaggerated way that he pronounced each player’s name. He emphasized Jordan’s first name, calling out, ‘Joooor-dan Ericsson’ as she was introduced. But he clipped Ryan’s first name and called out ‘Ryan O’ Flaaaa-her-ty’ when it was her turn. Martin turned around and smiled up at Jamie as he said, "He did that well, didn’t he, Darlin?"
"He certainly did, Martin," she agreed wholeheartedly.
As the players took their places, Jamie noted that Ryan had rolled up the sleeves of her jersey and neatly tucked them in so they were invisible. She wondered why that was necessary, but her question was answered a moment later. Stanford served to open the match and after a flurry of fakes and leaps by both outside hitters and the middle blocker, the setter passed the ball to Ryan. She exploded from behind the three-meter line and slammed the ball so forcefully that after it bounced untouched on the center of the court, it ricocheted into the stands and hit a very surprised woman right in the lap. Catherine slowly turned her head to look at her daughter, her wide eyes nearly popping from her head. "Did you see…?"
"Yep. And I figured out why she doesn’t like sleeves on her jersey," she said happily, realizing that Ryan needed every bit of mobility she could muster.
Cal was very sharp in the first game, and they stunned the Cardinal with a 15-7 win. Conor was making a run for nachos and as he walked by Jamie he predicted, "The next game will not be so easy."
True to his prediction, the Cardinal bounced back and squeezed out a 15-13 win. Their winning point did not come easily, however; Cal was dogged on defense, and the final point came from a long rally that had the entire gym buzzing. Ryan made a spectacular dig by diving for the ball with her entire body perpendicular to the floor. Amazingly, she managed to return the ball as her body hit hard on the rubberized surface, but Stanford’s highly touted middle blocker managed to stuff the ball right back at Cal for the winning point.
A ten-minute intermission followed game two, and the O’Flahertys buzzed about the match for the entire time. Each of the cousins had a theory on what Cal could have done differently to take the game, but Caitlin cared only that Ryan was missing. She was not happy until the team came back out and she got to watch her favorite playmate jump around again.
Game three went to Stanford rather easily at 15-6. Cal looked nervous and tentative for a good portion of the game, and their service game was abysmal. Jamie counted six net serves in a row, and it was clear that the team was becoming frustrated. As point after point went against Cal, Jamie tapped Niall on the shoulder and asked, "Why do they keep congratulating each other when they lose a point?"
"You know, I’ve got to admit that makes no sense to me. I guess it’s a woman thing," he said as he shrugged his shoulders.
Jamie wasn’t sure how it happened or what the difference was, but game four turned into a showcase for her lover’s enormous talent. Ryan was in some kind of a groove that lasted throughout the game. The announcer called her name again and again, shouting out ‘Ryan O’Flaaaa-her-ty’ every time she scored a kill or blocked a ball. Ryan was in the backcourt serving at 13-11 and Niall leaned over and predicted, "She’ll nail this one with a jump serve."
Ryan bounced the ball twice and tossed it high into the air. Just when the ball began to descend she leapt as high as she could and smashed the ball with her open hand. It skimmed just over the tape, barely missing being called a fault. The ball curved wickedly and landed untouched between four diving players who hit the mat in frustration. Jamie detected a glimmer of a smile on her partner’s face, but she knew that Ryan would never show her feelings too obviously in a match like this. 
Serving for the game, Ryan zipped another scorcher, but this one was dug out in a desperation play by their talented freshman outside hitter. The rally had been going on for nearly a minute when the ball was perfectly fed to Jordan. She jumped higher than Jamie had seen her go all night and slammed the ball powerfully into the leg of a Stanford player. The ball flew off at a wild angle, and Cal had evened the match.
"This is enervating, Jamie!" Catherine cried as she sank to her seat. "I’m exhausted from watching! How can she play so hard for so long?"
"I have no idea, Mother," Jamie admitted. "She just hates to lose so badly that she would do anything to avoid it. I guarantee she doesn’t even feel tired right now. She can just go into a zone and do what she needs to do, ignoring her own body."
Another short intermission allowed everyone to get up and stretch. There were a few cheerleaders, and they performed while the crowd buzzed about. Caitlin was getting fussy again so, after Jamie and Catherine changed her, Conor took her for a horsey ride around the auditorium. After ten minutes of racing around, they were both able to sit and enjoy the final game of the match.
Both teams were a little tentative at the start. The ball was served at least ten times before a point was scored, and Coach Placer finally called a time out to re-group. The break was only one minute long, but both sides seemed to benefit from it. The points started adding up, and in a matter of minutes the score was knotted at 13. The rotation was in Cal’s favor, as Niall pointed out. Cal’s smallest player was serving and their best middle blocker and the two outside hitters were in the frontcourt. Stanford’s smallest player was at the net and their best middle blocker had been taken out in a defensive strategy, leaving them a little weak.
As the team got ready, Erika Selznick came up behind Ryan and stood so close that their shoes touched. She appeared to be speaking to her, and Jamie noticed that she placed her hand against Ryan’s butt and held two fingers pointed down at the ground for the other players to see. "Niall, what’s the setter doing?" she asked.
"She’s telling the team which attack strategy they’re using," he said. "She gets behind Ryan so the other players can see her fingers. The dark shorts allow the others to see her better, but since Ryan can’t see she needs to tell her directly."
"Okay," Jamie said slowly, only slightly placated at the thought of another woman’s hand on Ryan’s butt.
The next point came quickly on a service ace. Everyone in the stands was on the edge of their seat as the next ball was served. It was returned quickly, and the setter called ‘Ryan!’ before she tossed the ball high into the air. Ryan’s body went up higher than Jamie would have ever thought possible. She pulled her arm back as she flew until she was coiled into an inverted ‘C’. Jamie got ready for a massive spike, and she could see the Stanford team brace themselves. But even though the motion seemed identical to every other spike Ryan had hit that night, when Ryan actually hit the ball she touched it so gently with just the tips of her fingers that the ball seemed to float to the ground. Time seemed to stand still as every Stanford player dove for the softly falling ball, but it settled onto the floor with a satisfying thump as the Cal team leapt into the air as one.
They hugged and slapped hands and squeezed each other until they squealed. The coaches even hugged as the victorious players celebrated, but the merriment only continued for a few seconds. Both teams got into a neat line and ran up to the net to shake hands. As each player lightly tapped hands, Jamie noticed that Ryan seemed to know some of the seniors. She stopped for a second and embraced two of the women, and after the line was finished Stanford’s coach came over and gave Ryan a very enthusiastic hug. She placed her hand on Ryan’s shoulder and spoke to her for a few moments as Ryan beamed down at her. A firm swat on the butt sent her on her way back to the arms of her giddy teammates, but before they trailed back into the locker room, Ryan turned and locked eyes with her partner for just a moment. The look of pure joy on her face was worth any sacrifice that Jamie could have made to allow her lover to play on the team, and she tried her hardest to imprint that blissful smile permanently into her memory. 
Jamie knew that everyone would want to congratulate her partner, so she raised her voice and said, "Let’s all go to our house for some dessert!" Everyone seemed in favor of that plan, so Martin, Conor, and Brendan decided to split up to guide all of the cousins to the house. Jamie removed the house key from her ring and sent them ahead while she waited for Ryan. Catherine offered to stop at the store and pick up food and Jamie gratefully accepted, advising her, "Pretend you’re feeding a group of hungry stevedores. These people eat!"
Jamie was waiting by the locker room when the team started to file out. As each player walked by she invited them to the house, and most immediately accepted. Ryan finally came out with Jordan and they both accepted Jamie’s hearty congratulations. "Poke your head back in there and tell everyone else that we’re having a little celebration at our house," Jamie said. "Your family is all waiting for you."
"Excellent!" Ryan cried. "I was afraid I wouldn’t get to talk to them."
"Not a chance, Baby," she assured her.
Ryan looked around and noticed that a large group of young girls was clustered around the narrow opening where both teams exited their respective locker rooms. Narrowing her gaze she elbowed Jordan and said, "What gives? Those kids are all waiting to get autographs from Stanford! Unacceptable!"
Striding over to the crowd she directed a pointed stare at Stanford’s freshman outside hitter, the woman most in demand. The attractive young woman gave Ryan a smile and shrugged her shoulders. Ryan returned her grin, but determined that she couldn’t let this insult continue. Turning to Jordan she asked, "Where do you guys sign autographs?"
"Uh…we don’t," Jordan said. "No one ever asks for them."
"Are you nuts?" the dark woman scoffed. "We’ve gotta create a little excitement here, pal." She cast a glance at Jamie who was holding a free poster that had been given out to everyone attending the game. "Hey, Babe? Do you have any felt-tipped markers on you?"
"Yeah, I have some in my art supplies," she said. "Do you want ‘em?"
"Yep," Ryan decided. "We’re having an autograph session." She strode past the Stanford team and went into the large, unstructured area right behind the court. Speaking to one of the maintenance workers, she secured a long folding table and a few chairs, then set about finding some of her teammates. In a few minutes every chair was full, and when the young girls saw the players busily signing posters, the crowd gathered around like bees to honey. Ryan smirked at Jordan and said, "We might not get any publicity, but we can create our own buzz."

Eleven of the fifteen players were able to make the impromptu party, and Jamie smiled to herself as she watched her mother, Maeve, and Ryan’s aunt Peggy set out the massive amounts of food that Catherine had purchased. 
When the team filed in, they were greeting with much acclaim by the crowd. They were all dressed in their warm-up suits; and since Cal had gone to the expense to have their first names embroidered on the breast, each was easily identifiable.
Ryan took quite a bit of kidding for having invited the entire gym to her home, but everyone had a good time. Since it was a school night no one stayed long, and within an hour nearly all of the food was gone. Catherine shook her head as she stared at the empty platters and said, "It…it was like a swarm of locusts!"
Martin slid his arm around her shoulder and advised, "You should have seen the work they did when the boys were teenagers! They ate three times what they do now!"
"I thought I was buying four times more than we could possibly eat," Catherine marveled.
"Leftovers are just an elusive dream at the O’Flahertys'," Jamie informed her.
Martin recruited his brothers to help with the cleanup since they had not been part of the preparation. Catherine said to Ryan, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen men get up to clean a kitchen. Do they always do that?"
"Yep. Since they were raised without a mother they had to learn to take care of themselves. They’re all quite handy."
"You are just a remarkable group of people," Catherine said fondly. "And I swear I have never seen a performance like you and your friend put on tonight!" Jordan was standing close by, and Ryan pulled her over to receive her share of the compliment.
"I’ve never played with a fellow outside hitter who was as talented as Jordan. It’s amazing how much easier the game is when you have a balanced attack."
"Well I clearly know nothing about the game, but I can appreciate talent and you two just shone tonight."
"I’ll say," Jamie agreed as she slid in under Ryan’s arm. "My big boomer really came through didn’t she?"
"Boomer, huh?" Jordan asked with sparkling eyes.
"Jamie!" Ryan moaned. "Do you have to give her any more ammunition?!"

As Ryan and Jamie lay in bed that night, the taller woman asked, "Were you as surprised as I was to see Jordan and Mia this morning?"
"Mmm, yes and no," Jamie said.
"Care to elaborate? Or is that your full statement?"
Jamie sighed and admitted, "I’m not surprised to see her with a woman, but I was surprised to see her with Jordan. I don’t see that there’d be any spark there whatsoever."
She said this so dismissively that Ryan grew a little defensive of her friend. "What? Jordan’s not good enough for Mia?" She paused a second and then realized, "Hey, you knew something kinda big, and you obviously didn’t tell me about it." A wide smile settled onto her face as she added, "Good job!"
Jamie tossed her blonde head dramatically, insisting, "I can keep a secret just as well as you can. And I didn’t mean that Jordan’s not good enough for her, I just meant that Jordan seems so aloof and self-involved."
"Oh, that’s a ringing endorsement," Ryan said, a little pout forming on her lips. "Glad you like her so much."
"I do like her…kinda," Jamie said, trying not to offend her partner. 
Ryan half sat up, leaning on her braced hand. "Do you really not like her, Jamie? I didn’t know…"
"No, no, it’s not like that. I just don’t know her well enough to have a real opinion. I don’t share the sports thing like you two do, I’m not real competitive like you both are, and I’ve never had an in-depth conversation with her about anything. I just don’t know her well enough to like her or not like her."
Ryan nodded, agreeing that all of her partner’s points were true. "Okay. I guess I get that. I guess over time you’ll learn more about her…especially if she and Mia start dating."
"Hmm…what do you think about that, Hon? Did they sleep together?"
Ryan smiled broadly and said, "Ask Mia."

Ryan and Jordan emerged from the Recreational Sports Facility the next afternoon, their sweat-soaked clothes draped limply on their bodies. "I love working out hard on a nice warm day," Ryan mused as the afternoon sun him them.
"We don’t get many of ‘em," the lanky blonde acknowledged. "Enjoy it while you can." They walked down the wide concrete entryway to the building, idly chatting until Jordan said, "Wow, could that old guy be any more obvious?"
"Huh?"
"There’s some old dude over there blatantly staring at us." 
She was just about to make a rude gesture when Ryan followed her gaze and said, "That old dude is my father-in-law. I’d better go see what’s on his alleged mind."
Jordan placed a restraining hand on her arm, asking seriously, "Are you sure, Ryan? I can stay with you if you think you might need help."
"Nah," she said lightly, pleased that her friend was willing to stick up for her. "I think he finally understands that he doesn’t have any hold over me. He probably just wants to bust my chops again." Just to maintain her normal routine she leaned forward slightly and gave her friend a very light kiss on the lips. "See you tomorrow at practice."
Jordan ruffled her hair, dramatically wiping her hand on her shorts after her hand came up damp. "Man, you sweat!"
"Yup. Part of my charm," the grinning brunette replied.
She jogged over to Jim, approaching him rather gingerly, as she would have greeted a suspicious-looking dog. "What’s up?" she asked, trying her best to be civil.
"I’m uh…I’m leaving for Washington tomorrow," he told her. "I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, maybe more."
She gazed at him quizzically, her dark eyebrows inching up in a standard "so what?" look.
He was standing awkwardly, looking like he needed to do something with his hands. "I’ve uh… I’ve tried everything, Ryan. She’s blocked my number on her cell phone, my e-mail gets returned as undeliverable, and my letters came back ‘addressee unknown’."
Another shrug from the dark-haired woman. "This surprises you….how?"
Now he began to let his frustration show. He started to pace in a quick line in front of her, his hands jammed into the pants pockets of his suit. "Catherine won’t speak to me, my own father tells me that he won’t intercede for me." He looked up at Ryan with a look of pure panic and said, "I can’t lose her, Ryan. I can’t!!"
"You could have thought of that sooner, Jim," she said with as much empathy as she could muster. "I think it’s too late in the game to have regrets now."
He grasped at her desperately, gaining large handfuls of wet shirt. "That can’t be true, Ryan! It can’t be!"
She pointedly removed his hands, shaking her head as she said, "I think it is true, Jim. Trying to destroy her feelings for Catherine was the last straw for her. I honestly don’t think she can forgive that."
"Ryan, you’re my last hope. I…I don’t have anywhere else to turn." His eyes had filled with tears, and his trembling lower lip betrayed his vulnerability. "Please…please talk to her for me," he begged, his voice raspy with emotion.
She shook her head weakly, finding it difficult to refuse such a heartfelt plea even though she knew he was getting exactly what he deserved. "I can’t do that," she insisted. "I can’t manipulate her into seeing you. She makes her own choices, and she chooses not to see you."
"Please," he whispered, one last time, the word reverberating in her ears as she turned her back and went to fetch her bike.

"That’s all he did?" Jamie asked again. "He just asked you to speak to me…to get me to talk to him?"
"Yes, that’s all," Ryan repeated. "He’s apparently leaving for Washington, and he’s going to be gone for a few weeks. I guess that made him feel he needed to take some action."
"Best of luck," Jamie muttered, turning back to the stove to finish their dinner preparations.

Both women were unusually quiet during dinner, only making occasional comments about their respective days. It was almost a relief when they finished eating and Ryan could spend a half-hour in the kitchen, focusing on the routine, calming tasks of cleaning up.
At nine o’clock Ryan started to close down the computer, then spent a few minutes getting ready for bed. By 9:20 Jamie still wasn’t on her way, so Ryan slipped into a pair of her pajamas and went downstairs to see what was keeping her.
Entering the study, Ryan saw her partner sitting on the leather couch, her intent gaze focusing on something that Ryan wasn’t able to see. Her books were still in her book bag, obviously untouched during the entire evening.
Ryan sat down next to her, drawing a slightly embarrassed chuckle from her partner. "I didn’t get much done tonight, huh?"
Running a fingertip along the edge of the bag Ryan agreed. "Not too much. Looks like you’re working on something, though," she guessed, lightly tapping Jamie’s temple.
Verdant eyes locked onto Ryan’s as Jamie asked, "You think I’m being a jerk, don’t you?"
A slow, startled blink was Ryan’s first response. Her second was a softly spoken, "Of course not, Honey. I would never think that of you."
"Well, what do you think?" Jamie persisted, knowing there was something going on behind those blue eyes that Ryan wasn’t sharing with her.
"I think you’ve had a very, very tough time of it, and I know that it’s going to take you a long time to decide how you want it to be between you and your father."
Giving her diplomatic lover a gentle elbow in the ribs, Jamie teased, "That was a very good non-answer."
Defending herself slightly, Ryan replied, "I mean it. I can’t put myself in your place. I’m sure that you’re making the decisions that feel like the right ones for you. That’s all that matters."
"No, it’s not, Ryan," Jamie insisted. "It’s also important that I maintain your respect."
Dark blue eyes gazed at her, the truth shining through brightly. "You have it. You always will."
"Answer one question for me," Jamie asked softly. "If this was your father, and he had done the same things, would you see him?"
"Yes," Ryan answered immediately.
"Jeez, didn’t have to spend too much time thinking of that answer, did you?" She seemed a little disappointed in the response, so Ryan hastened to explain.
"We have such different backgrounds, Jamie. That’s part of what influences me. Just because I couldn’t cut off contact with my father doesn’t mean that you should do the same. I mean that," she said earnestly.
"They why would you see your father again?" the smaller woman asked.
Ryan sighed heavily, hoping that Jamie could understand that her answer was applicable only to herself. "I’ve lost one parent, Jamie. I would never voluntarily give up my last one ." 
The blonde head nodded slowly, realizing that Ryan would naturally feel that way. She got to her feet, extending a hand to pull the tall woman up. "Thanks. That helps a bit."
"I hope so, Jamie," Ryan said softly, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I’ll do anything to help you."

"Thanks for taking time out of your day to see me, Poppa," Jamie said as she and her grandfather met just outside of the Swan Oyster Depot. 
"Jamie," he said fondly, "I always enjoy seeing you. And buying me lunch at the Swan just sweetens the deal." 
As they walked inside, she considered the changes the last few years had brought to their relationship. He treated her completely like an adult, she noted with satisfaction: showing her love and unqualified support, but never forcing his opinion on her, a lesson that she fervently wished he had imparted to his son. 
She took his hand and walked into the restaurant, waiting until they were shown to their table to speak again. Looking at the older man with thoughtful concern she said, "I’m stuck, Poppa. I feel like I need to make a decision about my father and move on with my life, but I just can’t seem to get there."
He covered her small hand with his own and gazed into her eyes. "What does your heart tell you to do, Jamie?"
She blew out a breath, ruffling her bangs as she did so. "That’s a tough one. I suppose that my heart is pretty optimistic," she chuckled. "I want to believe that he—like everyone else—can change if they’re really motivated." Shrugging her shoulders she said, "Of course, at this point he’s given no indication that he’s motivated to change."
"Okay," Charles said, "that’s your heart. What does your head think?"
"Well, my head is not very optimistic. But it’s more than that," she admitted. "I’ve given him a lot of chances, Poppa, and he’s blown each one. Logically speaking, I’m terrified of what his next act will be. I feel like I should permanently cut off all future contact with him, just to protect myself and Ryan."
He nodded somberly, seeing the situation from her perspective. Their waiter brought menus and they perused them in silence for a moment, not speaking again until their orders were placed. 
"What do you think I should do, Poppa?" she asked.
"I’m not sure I can tell you that, Jamie. I honestly think I’m too involved with both of you to be able to see the situation clearly." He shook his head, his brow deeply furrowed as he drew in a breath. "It’s so hard for me to see what he has become." He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was about to cry. 
"You know what’s been on my mind lately?" Jamie asked. As he shook his head she continued, "I’ve been trying to understand how he turned out this way. It’s the nature versus nurture argument. How could such a loving, giving, compassionate man as you raise someone who’s capable of what my father’s shown that he’s capable of?"
Charles let out a sigh and smiled wanly. "I hate to admit this, Jamie, but your father was nurtured by a man who shared many of the same traits he’s exhibiting right now."
"Pardon?" she asked, her eyes growing wide.
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her for a few moments, finally shaking his head slightly when he decided to reveal something very personal. "It’s true," he conceded. "I’ve always been glad that you didn’t know me when I was a younger man, Jamie, because you’d feel very differently about me. I think it’s time I explained a few things to you, Honey. It might not help you, but if there’s even a chance that it will, I’m happy to share my struggles."
"Your struggles?" she asked, not having any idea of where he was going with this train of thought.
"Yes, Honey. Twenty years ago I was struggling…with my faith and with my calling. I was just about the age your father is now, and I had finally come to realize that my dreams of being named bishop would likely not materialize."
"Bishop?" she gaped. "But…that’s not the type of thing that would appeal to you! You’ve always said you have no interest in the administrative duties that being bishop would entail."
"Not true," he said, shaking his head. "I was very much interested in being bishop. The power and prestige of the position were very compelling, Jamie, and I’ll admit that I practically lusted for it."
Trying to reconcile what he was telling her with what she knew of him, Jamie asked, "Why do you think you weren’t asked to become bishop?"
"I have a very good idea," he said, a small smile settling on his face. "I think I was considered to be too rigid, too doctrinaire to be able to deal with the problems of a diocese as large as ours."
"Too rigid!" She said this louder than she should have, and immediately lowered her voice. "You’re the most flexible man I know!"
"Thank you for saying that, Jamie, but now I’m not who I was then. Before the AIDS crisis hit San Francisco, I was the type of man that I now have nothing but pity for. I truly believed that the purpose of religion was to give people rules to live by…and I do mean rules! I thought that I had the answers to many, if not all, questions about moral living. I’m sure that even then I considered myself a liberal, but there was nothing truly liberal in my thinking."
Jamie looked at him with deep interest but said nothing, her shock rendering her unable to formulate a comment.
"I knew that many of the people that I depended on to help run the church were gay men. I said all the right things about tolerance and love, but I didn’t believe any of it. Deep inside I thought that gay people were misguided at best, eternally condemned at worst. I actually used to feel sorry for them, because they had such ‘empty’ lives—going from one meaningless sexual encounter to another. I’m embarrassed to admit that I believed that I was on a higher moral plain than my gay associates. They were the ‘other’…they were not like me."
Her mouth had dropped open and she gaped at him, unable to see the man he described in her loving, generous grandfather. "But how…? What changed you?"
"I didn’t change until it affected me personally," he admitted. "I was so self-involved that I was only able to see things clearly when my own interests were involved." He shook his head in shame at his hubris, but continued his story. "I began to lose some of the men who helped my church run efficiently. But even then I didn’t lose too much sleep over the issue. I believed that this illness was some form of tragic, but inevitable retribution for the lives that these men had led. Now, don’t get me wrong, Jamie," he said when he saw the stark disbelief in her green eyes. "I felt very badly for these people. I just wasn’t affected on a deep, personal basis. But all of that changed in 1984 when my music director developed AIDS. This was a man I had worked with closely for over ten years, Jamie, and for the first time, I allowed this disease to touch my heart. As I learned more about his life, and his circle of friends, I began to feel—really feel—the loss of so many people the disease had claimed. I saw the community rally around this man, and I began to see the rich, full life that he and many other gay people had fashioned for themselves. This man and his friends took me in and let me see what friendship and love and charity were really all about. I saw that my notions of sin and righteousness were just excuses for labeling behavior that I didn’t participate in. I began to open up and really see my fellow parishioners as they were. I began to understand the weaknesses that we all have, but I also was privileged to see the strength that so many people are blessed with."
"I saw that on the AIDS Ride," Jamie commented. "The courage of some of those people astounded me."
"Indeed," he agreed. "All I can say is that AIDS changed me in some very dramatic ways, Jamie. It allowed me to cast off my small-minded habits of looking down on people who don’t share my life choices. It opened me up to the experience of truly being with others as they are. It allowed me to see, for the first time in my life, that we are all truly children of God. Each one of us is as precious as the next. God creates each of us according to His plan, not our plans." He smiled at his granddaughter and grasped her hand gently, "I studied the issue, Jamie. I’d say that I read everything written on homosexuality and faith. Through study and prayer, I finally came to the conclusion that to reject a person because of the way God created him is just bad theology."
She squeezed his hand, as her head shook gently, "I feel the same way, Poppa. I think I came to believe this from your influence," she admitted. "It must have been much harder for you to have to figure this out for yourself."
"I labeled myself a man of faith, Jamie," he said softly, "but that title wasn’t apt until I took that journey and let those people help me discover what faith truly was."
Gazing at her grandfather for a moment, Jamie asked, "I appreciate that you’ve told me all of this, Poppa, but I don’t see how it all connects to my troubles."
"It does, Jamie, it truly does," he insisted. "I told you all of this as a way of partially explaining your father. The man who raised him was consumed by a desire for power and prestige and position. Oh, I tried to hide it beneath a humble, priestly exterior, but it was there, right under the surface. I did not give your father the proper moral guidance that a person needs in order to make the proper choices for himself. I understand that he’s made some very poor decisions in his life, but I truly believe that my poor example helped him make some of those choices." He looked at her intently, his green eyes focused on hers. "I was not able to change until I was confronted by a situation that I was intensely uncomfortable with. But when I was forced to look inward, I was able to open my eyes. I honestly think that this situation could present a similar possibility for being a life-changing event for your father."
"It sounds like you were in a place where you were willing to look at your life and make some changes, Poppa," she skeptically observed. "I don’t know that my father is in that place."
"I know the situation is different," he admitted. "And I don’t in any way absolve him of his responsibility for the dreadful things he has done. But I am saying that this could be an opportunity for you to help him to become the person that I believe he could be. I know that he loves you as much as he is able to love, Jamie. There is no one in his life that he is as connected to. I dread the thought of what will happen to him if you sever your ties." 
Total silence enveloped the table as she reflected on his words. Jamie finally reached for her grandfather’s hand and grasped it securely with her own. "I have such a hard time reconciling the person that you say you were with the person that I’ve always known," she said, slowly shaking her head. "It’s almost incomprehensible."
"I have a hard time remembering what it was like to feel that way," he agreed. "But it’s good to force myself to remember once in a while. It shows me how the power of love can change anyone’s life."
"Anyone who wants to change," she added quietly. "That’s the key, Poppa. You were obviously open to it. I see no sign that my father is."
"You may be right, Jamie," he admitted. "If he’s unwilling to try, there’s nothing you can do. I don’t want to put pressure on you, Sweetheart, but if you can hang in there for a little while and just be patient, he might surprise you."
"Oh, he’s surprised me plenty," she said wryly, sparing her grandfather a small smile. "I’m just afraid his next surprise might involve bloodshed."

After lunch Jamie walked her grandfather back to his house, asking for one small favor when they arrived. "Could you open the church for me, Poppa? I think better there. The world looks clearer to me through stained glass," she said with a chuckle.
"Of course, Sweetheart. I’ll be in my office. Just let me know when you’re leaving."
She went into the cool, quiet space and sat down in the last pew, letting her memories wash over her. Picking up a copy of the Book of Common Prayer, she leafed through the well-used tome, automatically finding some of her favorite passages of scripture. She didn’t have a particular focus, and her thoughts were vague and fleeting, never staying on one topic for long. It was as if her subconscious was processing something and her conscious mind was just along for the ride. After more than an hour she put the book away and stood up, taking in the sweet smell of the candles that permeated the space. Surprisingly, she knew exactly what to do, and without a moment’s hesitation she went to say goodbye to her grandfather and set out for her destination.

"You go right in, Jamie," Helen said as she escorted her into her father’s office. "He’s going to be so excited to see you." Her voice lowered, "He seems really sad about leaving, doesn’t he?"
"I suppose he does," the younger woman smiled, not having any idea if that was the case.
"It’s such a mess in here," the secretary laughed, shaking her head at the organized chaos. "He’s in the middle of packing up his personal things." 
Seeing the solitary banker’s box atop the desk, Jamie gave the woman a wry look and asked, "Is the one box all that he’s taking?"
"I suppose so," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It’s an open secret that he’ll be back in January of 2001," she added. "It doesn’t make much sense to take much. He said he’s only taking things that are absolutely vital."
A young man in a dun-green uniform was removing boxes of legal files from the office, likely taking them to the attorneys who would be taking over Jim’s casework. As the man left the room he closed the door, and she walked over to the desk and sat in her father’s chair. An early memory of coming downtown for Christmas flooded over her, and she recalled sitting in the big leather chair when her feet barely dangled off the edge of the seat.
Idly perusing the contents of the box, she was stunned to regard the item lying on top. It was a framed picture that she had drawn for her father when she was in pre-school. The crudely formed stick figures represented her and her father, his left hand holding her right. In her childish scrawl she had written, "I love you, Daddy" across the top of the paper. "Jamie" was penned across the bottom of the paper, the "J" backwards, and the dot over the "I" a big circle. She was gazing at it intently when she sensed a warm presence over her shoulder. "That was the first sentence you ever wrote," her father said softly, his voice husky with emotion.
"You had this framed?" she asked in wonder, feeling the solid weight of the wood in her hand.
"Of course I did. That was the most amazing love letter I’d ever received." Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew that her father was crying, and seconds later she heard a few sniffs that confirmed her belief.
Reaching into the box, she began to extract the few items, holding each in her hands as her father provided commentary. "That’s from the first round of golf we ever played together," he said as Jamie hefted a Lucite cube in which a small scorecard floated. "That’s from the trip you convinced me to take when you were sure you wanted to be a cowboy when you grew up," he said wistfully, gazing over her shoulder at a picture of the two of them atop horses at a ranch in Colorado. Her boot-clad feet were so short that they barely made it into the stirrups, but the grin on her face was absolutely luminous. The smile on her father’s face was one of loving indulgence, and she had a brief memory of how validated she had felt when he’d agreed to take the little trip. Another photo was of their first ski trip together, still another of her playing in her first match for the golf team at her high school. 
Reaching into the box again, Jamie was stunned to find a fairly recent photo—from the AIDS Ride. She and her father were beaming for the camera, him looking so proud that it immediately brought tears to her eyes. "Was this important to you?" she asked softly, extending the picture for him to view.
"Of course," he said with fervor. "You had worked so hard to achieve that goal, Jamie. I’ve never been more proud of you."
Her shoulders sagged as she wearily asked, "Then why can’t you show me that you’re proud of me by trusting my decisions?"
"I do trust you, Jamie," he began, but she help up her hand, unwilling to go down that road again.
"Enough," she said wearily. "You’ve been saying that for months, Daddy, but it’s a loser argument."
"Okay," he agreed quietly, coming around to perch on the edge of his desk. His head cocked a little as he asked, "Did Ryan talk you into coming today?"
She laughed softly, shaking her head a little as she said, "She doesn’t talk me into things, Daddy. In only a few months she’s learned that doesn’t work." Adding a self-effacing chuckle she said, "She knows how to handle me. You really should get some tips from her."
With a hopeful look he asked, "Does that mean that I’ll get the chance to see you again?"
"It depends," she said, gazing deeply into his eyes. "Are you willing to let me make my own choices in life, including my own mistakes?"
"Yes," he said, tears forming in his eyes. "I promise that I’ll do my best to treat you like a woman… not my little girl."
She nodded, unwilling to keep the animosity going any longer. "I think we should try again," she said. "If you’re willing to apologize to Ryan and to Mother, and begin to treat Ryan like my partner, we can try again."
"It’s taken me a while, but I now know I was wrong. I promise I’ll treat her just the same as if she was your husband..." he began.
Leveling her gaze, Jamie warned, "Don’t get crazy with the promises, Daddy. If you think you’re going to suddenly love her, you’re lying to both of us. All I want is for you to treat her with respect. If you’re open-minded, over time you will come to like her, but that will take a while."
"I promise I’ll try," he said softly, heeding her advice not to bite off more than he could chew.
"That’s all I ask, Daddy. I just want you to try." She got up from the chair and started to walk to the door. "You can write or e-mail me if you want, and I’ll let your calls come through on the cell, okay?"
"That’s more than I deserve," he said sincerely.
Giving him a small smile, she agreed. "This is true. Luckily, I’m bonded to a woman who makes Mother Teresa look like a hothead. Ryan pointed out how short our time together is. I don’t want to waste any more of it, Daddy."
"Jamie," he said hesitantly, "I want you to know how sorry I am about everything—especially for what I did to Ryan and your mother."
"Let’s just move forward, okay, Daddy?" she asked, not wanting even to be reminded of what he had done.
He nodded quickly, agreeing that was the best tactic. "Um…they’re making the announcement about my appointment tomorrow in Washington. You wouldn’t happen to have a free day to be there with me, would you?" There was such a vulnerable, hope-filled look in his eyes that she felt a little sad for him.
"No, I can’t make it," she said. "But I hope it goes well for you."
"Thank you, Honey," he said, moving forward to attempt to hug her goodbye. He approached her warily, neither sure quite how to behave. A quick hug which they both seemed happy to end marked the culmination of the feud, and as they clumsily drew apart, father and daughter shared a meaningful look, both silently hoping that they would never again be estranged. 
He stood rooted in place as she continued across the room. "I’ll miss you, Jamie."
She turned to face him, seeing something in his expression that absolutely shocked her. Without allowing her inner voice to censor her words she asked, "Are you afraid to go?"
He looked strangely childlike as he stood in the middle of the room, his hands balled into impotent fists. She could see him swallow as he fought the self-analysis that she was asking him to indulge in. "I…uh…I’ve never lived anywhere but San Francisco," he said. "It’s strange to be going so far from home…especially alone," he finished in an even softer tone. "I feel a little like I’m heading off to my first day of school." His face broke into a warm grin as 15 years disappeared from his face. "I don’t know where that came from," he muttered, a flush creeping up his features.
"From your heart," Jamie said, echoing his smile. "It’s a good thing to listen to."
"I’ll try to remember," he said, his face gentling even more as he met her eyes.
"Keep in touch, Daddy," she whispered, feeling very light and free as she said those words. As her heels crushed a path along the thick pile carpet, she let her mind try to project the path they both had to traverse. She was mature enough to know that they would still have some very tough waters to navigate, and just innocent enough to fully believe that they would successfully do so—together.