Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
K athleen clicked “Send” and sat back in the wooden chair, her shoulders sagging from the strain of it all.
For a moment, she didn’t move, simply watched the flicker of the cursor on the now-empty email screen.
The submission was gone. The paper was out of her hands now, her years of research in the public eye to be scrutinized.
She’d sent it to the head of the institute first, thanking them for giving her the opportunity to complete her research.
Then to Edith Williams, her mentor, the woman who had stood solidly behind her, encouraging her as she studied for her PhD.
Next to three scientific journals: Nature Energy , Environmental Science its surface covered with old pine needles and lichened stones.
Veronica walked beside her in silence, her steps light, her hair tied back beneath a cap.
Kathleen led the way at first, but soon slowed, not because she was tired, but because she wanted to savour the walk.
She didn’t say it aloud, but she’d already memorized Veronica’s body, the rhythm of her voice.
She wanted to remember the forest with her in it too.
The rough scent of moss as they walked and the sweep of shadow along her cheekbone when sunlight filtered through leaves. All of it.
“Watch your step,” she said softly as the path narrowed beside a drop of shale.
Veronica touched her back lightly. “Always watching.”
They stopped at a bend where the trees parted enough to reveal a glimpse of the valley below. The forest fell away in waves—cedar, spruce, and the skeletal white limbs of ghost gums, their pale trunks gleaming faintly in the light. Beyond that, a dark smudge of lake caught the sun.
Kathleen pointed. “That’s where we kayaked.”
Veronica nodded. “I recognize the landmarks.”
“I think about it sometimes. How peaceful it was.”
“You’re different here,” Veronica said after a moment.
Kathleen looked over, brow drawn. “Different how?”
Veronica’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not so…reserved.”
Kathleen flushed but didn’t look away. “I know. I don’t always understand people. Or their expectations. But I understand trees and light. This makes sense to me.”
They kept walking, the path going down gently, curving through thick ferns and low-growing wildflowers. A flash of movement caught her eye and Kathleen stopped, holding a hand out to halt Veronica.
“There,” she whispered.
Ahead, a red fox moved through the brush, unaware of them. Its coat was pale with dust, but its body was sleek and elegant. It moved like smoke—soundless and utterly comfortable with its place in this world. Kathleen watched with quiet reverence. After a few seconds, it disappeared into the trees.
Veronica exhaled. “I’ve never seen one that close before.”
“They’re shy,” Kathleen said. “And clever.”
She was tempted to add it was like herself—made of nerves and silence and instinct—but Veronica already knew that.
They wandered off the trail and followed the sound of water until they reached a narrow stream cutting through a sun-dappled glade. The water shimmered clear over stones, and Kathleen stepped out of her boots to wade in, laughing softly at the shock of cold.
She called out delightedly, “Come on in. It’s exhilarating.”
Veronica raised a brow. “You want me to freeze?”
“Yes. Shared suffering builds trust.”
Veronica gave a small smile and pulled off her sneakers. She rolled up her pants to the knees and joined her. “Christ, it’s frigging cold,” she yelped.
“It’s refreshing.”
“No,” Veronica said. “It’s freezing. I’m getting out.”
They dried their feet in the grass and lay back on a bed of moss, watching the canopy above shift gently in the wind. Birds called in the distance, and a dragonfly hovered near Kathleen’s hand.
She pointed. “Did you know their wings beat independently? That’s how they can hover like that.”
Veronica rolled onto her side to look at her. “It’s like you have a private line to nature’s secrets.”
“It’s merely observation,” Kathleen murmured, blushing.
They ate lunch on a flat rock warmed by the sun, unwrapping sandwiches and apples from their packs. Veronica sprawled on her back afterward, eyes closed, while Kathleen rested on one elbow and quietly pointed out birds as they passed overhead.
“That one’s a swallow. A Hirundo rustica. They migrate over ten thousand kilometres every year. And that’s—” she nodded upward, “—a red-shouldered hawk. I love how they float on thermals. They barely flap at all.”
Veronica opened one eye. “You know the name of every leaf and bird. It’s kind of intimidating.”
Kathleen laughed quietly. “It’s... patterns. I see them easily.”
Veronica sat up and took her hand. “I like the way you see things.”
Kathleen didn’t answer right away. The breeze shifted her hair, and for a long moment she watched the leaves ripple above them. “I think I’m in love with you,” she said suddenly.
Veronica stilled. “You think?”
Kathleen swallowed. “I don’t always know what I’m feeling until it’s quiet. But I feel calm with you. And excited. And… steady. It’s like being tuned to the right frequency.”
Veronica touched her face. “Stay on that frequency. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you ask me to.”
Kathleen smiled at her. Veronica hadn’t said she loved her back, but she hadn’t said she didn’t.
That was enough for the moment.
They stayed out until the light began to turn gold again. As they walked back, Veronica’s arm brushed hers now and then, and neither of them said much, but there was something easy in the air between them.
Back at the cabin, Kathleen lit the lamp while Veronica restoked the fire.
They made dinner slowly—Kathleen chopping vegetables, Veronica sautéing them with rice and the garlic bulb from her house.
They ate cross-legged on the rug with plates in their laps and shared a single bottle of red wine, passing it back and forth.
Later, after the plates were cleared and the fire had burned low, Kathleen stood by the window, looking out into the trees.
Veronica came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What are you thinking?”
Kathleen leaned back against her. “I’m trying to remember every detail. I want to be able to close my eyes and see this place. In case?—”
“In case we can’t come back?”
“In case it doesn’t last.”
Veronica turned her gently, tilting her face up. “Hey, don’t talk like that.”
Kathleen kissed her, tentative at first, then deeper. Veronica responded slowly, tenderly, coaxing rather than demanding. They moved toward the bed as the firelight flickered and shadows shifted on the walls.
This time, there was no hesitation. No firsts to be bridged, no uncertainty to push through. Kathleen’s hands found Veronica easily. She wasn’t practiced but she was getting better. Each touch was a question and a declaration. Enthralled, she fondled Veronica’s breasts, watching her reaction.
Veronica answered with her body, arching into her. “You’re breathtaking, Kath,” she whispered.
With a sense of urgency now, their eyes locked.
They stroked each other until, finally, they shuddered with pleasure as they climaxed together.
The sensations running through Kathleen became overwhelming and she buried her face in Veronica’s neck.
They lay for a while tangled together, skin warm, breaths slowing.
Kathleen whispered in awe, “This feels like home.”
Veronica pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Then we’ll carry it with us.”
They fell asleep in silence, the fire crackling low, and the soft rhythm of the forest outside echoing the steady beat of their hearts.