Chapter 23 A Question of Timing
A Question of Timing
The door opened and closed, and the soft thump of Heidi’s shoes hitting the boot tray sounded. A moment later, Heidi padded into the kitchen in her socks.
“Want a cuppa?” Heidi filled the kettle and set it on the gas.
“Sure.” Morgan laid her cell phone on the counter. Once again, Linda had not answered her call. Morgan had left three messages now, all unanswered.
“Been meaning to ask when you’re leaving for your folks’ place,” Heidi said. “That is, I’m assuming you’re still going for Thanksgiving.”
Morgan turned away, using the excuse of getting mugs from the cupboard. “Actually, I’m not.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “My parents are…doing something different this year. They’re going to Vermont for a break. Just the two of them.”
“That sounds cold. So, what are you doing?”
“I haven’t thought, to be honest. I’ve been invited to a friend’s place, but it gets a bit chaotic with her family and way too many kids. I’ll probably just stay home, watch a movie or something. What about you?”
“I’m not working. Lula’s invited me for the evening, but I already said I was going to stay home and have cheese on toast.”
They’d be home together. Morgan chewed her lip for a moment. It was obvious what they should do. “So your first American Thanksgiving and you’re having grilled cheese. That’s very sad.”
“Not to me. I can’t miss what I haven’t had, right?”
“We can cook here. Get a boneless turkey breast—that’s enough for two people. Have all the trimmings— dressing, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce. Mashed potatoes, of course. Pumpkin pie for dessert.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“It’s really not. And with two of us cooking, we can divide up the prep. Do some in advance. Buy a ready-made pie. Of course, if you want to stick with your grilled cheese, that’s fine.”
“No! That sounds great.” Heidi found the notebook and pen in the drawer. “Let’s make a list.”
~ ~ ~
Morgan wheeled the cart around King Soopers. Whole Foods it wasn’t, but it was a lot cheaper. When Heidi had suggested it, she’d agreed and volunteered to shop and then Heidi could pay her half—that was the end of the preplanning.
But it was the day before Thanksgiving, and Morgan was totally regretting putting off the shopping.
Whole turkeys? Forget about it. And the boneless breasts…
She snatched the last one, earning a filthy look from a woman with blue hair.
They were out of fresh cranberries, so she settled for canned sauce, and there were no green beans at all.
She completed the trip, with many substitutions.
At least Heidi had nothing to compare the meal to.
She, though… Her mom’s Thanksgiving dinners were legendary: moist turkey, the table laden with trimmings, all fresh, all homemade.
Aunt Linda always did three pies for dessert: pumpkin, of course, apple, and cherry.
Whipped cream and ice cream. What would Aunt Linda’s Thanksgiving be like this year?
Mom had said Linda planned on telling her kids about her cancer.
Would their reaction be enough for her to accept Morgan’s offer? Please, Linda, please accept.
She made two more stops: one for a pie from the gourmet bakery—her one indulgence—the other at the liquor store for wine.
She got home and started prepping. The dressing, sweet potato casserole, and potatoes—all done ahead. Brussels sprouts weren’t the same as green beans, but they would have to do.
Heidi bounded in the door as she was putting the sweet potato casserole in the fridge.
“What a day!” Heidi dumped her jacket and scarf on the arm of the couch and entered the kitchen.
For a second, Morgan thought she was about to throw her arms around her and kiss her.
She froze, but Heidi went on past to the fridge and pulled out two beers, offering one to Morgan.
“I so need this. The Fly Inn was really busy, Robert was being a dick, just shouting at me from the end of the bar to let me know customers were waiting—as if I couldn’t see them for myself as I served other customers.
Still, I don’t have to work tomorrow, and I get to hang out here with you and eat delicious American food. On balance, I think I’m ahead.”
“I hope it will be delicious. And I hope you know how to cook turkey, brussels sprouts, and gravy. That’s your share of the prep. Oh, and opening the wine.”
“I can manage that. I think. The wine I can definitely do. Which reminds me—one good thing about the day, though.” Heidi went over to her day pack on the counter and pulled out two bottles of wine. “Robert gave me these. It’s the good stuff that no one ever buys as it’s too expensive.”
“We won’t run out of wine, then.” Morgan pulled the pan of potatoes off the stove and drained them.
“What other Thanksgiving traditions do you have, other than eating yourself into a coma?”
Morgan thought. “Nothing really. Not my family. We talk, we eat. We eat more. Then we eat pie. Maybe a walk to make room for more pie.”
“We can do that. Don’t you also give thanks or something?”
“Others do. Not us. We just enjoy family time.” A groundswell of emotion caught her.
Family time. Yet, so little of that time was supportive.
It skated lightly over achievements and fun, never talking about anything deep, anything less than perfect.
Certainly nothing that was turning to shit in their lives.
And she was a shining example of this—she couldn’t even bring herself to tell her parents she’d lost her job.
Even the thought of mentioning it made her shrivel inside.
Aunt Linda still hadn’t returned her call. It seemed being unable to talk about the difficult things wasn’t confined to her and her parents. She ducked her head and blinked hard against the instant tears.
“Hey.” Heidi put down her beer and came around to where Morgan stood in front of the stove the potato masher in her hand.
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, whatever is wrong, you’re okay.
You’re safe, in your home, I’m here, and I’ve got you.
” She wrapped her arms around Morgan from behind, and her breath tickled the back of Morgan’s neck. “I’ve got you.”
Morgan’s breath shuddered out, and she dropped the masher into the pot. Potato splattered out over the stove, but she ignored it. She tried a deep breath, but it caught around the wooden tightness in her throat.
“Slow,” Heidi said. “Don’t force it. You’re okay. You’re breathing okay. At least, you’re not blue and at my feet yet.”
Morgan choked a laugh, and the air rushed deeper into her lungs. She took a breath. Another, and gradually the panicky feeling of helplessness receded.
Heidi broke the hug and stepped back.
Morgan stood still until she was sure she was okay. “Not blue. Is that the extent of your first-aid training?”
Heidi shrugged. “I have done it—but no, that’s not in any manual. Although it should be.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the masher again. “Can you pass me the butter?”
“Uh-uh. You don’t have a moment like that and then continue mashing potatoes. Talking to someone about whatever it is might help, and I’m the only one here. So…” She shrugged. “Talk, if you want. Is everything okay with your family?”
“Please can you pass the butter? And the milk.”
Morgan sensed Heidi’s stare on the back of her neck.
She turned. “I’m not like you. I can’t talk about the bad things that easily.
Admit failures, whether they’re mine or my family’s.
You’re right. I need to talk about them, but I can’t do that if I’m looking at you.
So, if you pass the milk and butter, we’ll have the best mashed potatoes in Denver and maybe I’ll be able to talk. ”
Heidi went to the fridge then put the milk and butter on the counter next to Morgan. She rested a hand on Morgan’s arm and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “What else can I do for you?”
“You’re doing everything.” Morgan took a deep breath.
Her chest no longer felt like it was cracking open.
“I normally spend Thanksgiving with my parents and my mom’s sister, Linda, and her kids.
Linda and I are close… That is, I thought we were.
Linda was there for me when I was a teen.
I’m not going home this weekend as Aunt Linda has breast cancer. ”
“I’m sorry,” Heidi murmured.
“She doesn’t have health insurance, and she can’t afford the surgery.
I’ve offered to pay for her. But she’s declined my offer—through my mom—and won’t return my calls.
She wants to spend Thanksgiving with her kids to tell them about the cancer, and Mom and Dad are going to Vermont. Classic avoidance, I guess.”
She added a piece of butter and a splash of milk and smashed the masher into the pot, staring down at the potatoes disintegrating in the pan.
“Why doesn’t Linda want your help?”
“She wants to leave the most she can to her kids. She’s a single mom. I’ve said anything I give would be a gift, but she’s proud, I guess. Never asks for help. She’s going to have radiotherapy. I’ve been researching stage 2 breast cancer. She’d likely make a full recovery if she had surgery.”
“She can’t have surgery because she can’t afford it? I’m sorry, Morgan, but the US health system sucks bollocks. How much would it cost?”
“Surgery, plus radiotherapy, other necessary consultations and treatments, she could be looking at sixty grand or more for the first year.”
“Sixty grand! I had no idea.” Heidi stared at Morgan with wide eyes.
“And time off work. Her boss seems reasonable, but there’s always the worry that if she has too much time off work, she’ll be fired.”
“And you’re offering to fund her?”
Morgan nodded.
“Love doesn’t come with a monetary value, does it? Linda is lucky she has you.”
“But she won’t take the money.” The familiar helplessness beat in her chest again and she pressed the masher hard in the bottom of the pan. “I would rather have Aunt Linda than the money. Even if now I—” No. Now is not the time for that conversation. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Give her time,” Heidi said. Her voice hummed low, soothing, vibrating with reassurance. “It must have been a shock, and it’s hard to think clearly in such situations. Once she’s had a chance to talk to her kids, once the initial panic subsides a little, maybe she’ll come back to you.”
“But the sooner the better—”
“Yes. But you’re being rational. Linda is likely more emotional right now. She obviously loves her kids and is looking to their future, and that’s affecting her decision. Put down that potato masher, Morgan. Those potatoes are as smooth as a baby’s bum.”
Morgan closed her eyes and dropped the masher into the pot.
Arms slid around her waist, and Heidi nudged her hip until Morgan turned into her embrace and rested her head on Heidi’s shoulder.
“It’s Linda’s decision, Morgan. You can’t force her to do anything, even if from where we stand, it seems like the wrong choice.”
“I know. It’s just…” Her hands rose and sketched vague patterns in the air behind Heidi’s shoulders. “I want…”
“Maybe Linda is considering your future too. That hypothetical sixty grand. Maybe she doesn’t want to take it from you. Yeah, you have your good job, but you most likely have debts and obligations yourself.”
“I do, yes, but… It’s Linda.” She blinked fiercely against the tears gathering behind her eyes, and the pressure built in her chest again.
“Breathe, Morgan. Slow, deep. I’ve got you.”
For a moment, Morgan let herself relax into Heidi’s embrace.
Heidi’s arms encircled her shoulders, Heidi’s breasts pressed against her own, their hips were snug together.
Her breathing slowed, and she closed her eyes, her head on Heidi’s shoulder, her nose against her neck, smelling the crisp, clean scent of body wash and shampoo.
Warmth spread outward in her chest. The quiet pleasure of being held spread its wings and caught light.
The glow of security built into something more, something brighter and more dangerous.
Morgan’s breath hitched, and she tightened her arms around Heidi’s waist. Her hips canted forward—slowly, subtly.
Heidi murmured soft words into Morgan’s hair, but they wove together so that all she heard was the cadence of Heidi’s voice, the reassurance, the caring.
Morgan’s hips pressed against Heidi’s, then eased back, but then, drawn by a force she couldn’t control, they tilted forward again.
She turned her head and nudged her way through Heidi’s hair to press her lips against her neck.
A pulse raced under her mouth, a rapid tattoo that seemed too fast for the moment, too fast for mere comfort.
“Morgan?” Heidi’s voice—higher, sharper—cut through her haze. “Please be sure you—”
She dragged her lips away from Heidi’s neck and kissed her way up to her jaw. Tiny kisses, mere pecks, up to the corner of her mouth.
Heidi wasn’t smiling. There was no tilt to her lips. “Remember what we said, Morgan. Think of—”
She kissed Heidi. Her lips slid to cover Heidi’s, and she pressed. Her heart thundered, her breasts tingled, and a golden heat curled down her belly to between her legs as she waited for Heidi to respond. If she was going to.
A pulse, another. Then, with a sigh, Heidi opened her lips, and their mouths collided with force, with a need that seemed mutual.
Morgan shuffled them around so they were away from the stove, Heidi’s back against the counter, Morgan’s leg between Heidi’s thighs.
She pressed up, and Heidi gasped into her mouth.
Her fingers trembled as she slid her hands up Heidi’s neck, into her short hair, around the base of her skull, anchoring them together. The kiss intensified, growing molten.
Then Heidi’s hand pushed against her shoulder, and Heidi turned her head away from Morgan’s mouth.
Her lips tingled with the loss. She released Heidi and took a tiny step backward. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Heidi caught her hand. “I loved it, and I’d love more. But we agreed it wasn’t a good idea. Especially now. I feel I’m taking advantage of you, when you’re not in a good place.”
“You’re not. Please don’t think that.” She took that step forward again, but Heidi shook her head.
“No.” She sidestepped, slid away and picked up her beer. Her hand shook. “Let’s get through the next few days, Morgan. Clear heads and hearts.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know. We have things to talk about.”
“We do.” Could she tell Heidi about her lack of work? Or would that be just another layer of emotional pressure on both of them? But one thing was clear: Heidi was right. No matter how much they wanted each other, now was not the time.