Blind Faith, page 3
‘Here’s to Elvis,’ Delia said, as if reading her thoughts, and lifted her glass in the air.
‘Elvis,’ the other three women chorused and sipped at their drinks.
‘So, what’s this plan?’ Jenny said to Vera.
Vera looked across the table at Esther. ‘You noticed our Drew seemed a bit out of sorts at the meeting?’ she said.
Esther looked at her vacantly.
‘Yes, she didn’t look herself at all,’ Delia said.
Jenny nodded. ‘She seemed irrationally distressed with what the Vicar was saying. Do you think Elvis’s death has affected her?’
‘I don’t know,’ Vera said. ‘I was thinking, perhaps she needs a bit of cheering up.’
‘What do you mean?’ Esther said.
‘You know. A bit of company?’ Vera said.
Jenny pondered. ‘You’re right. She hasn’t been on a date for as long as I can remember. Do you think she’s lonely?’
‘Could be.’ Vera nodded.
‘Wasn’t the last chap she went out with that librarian from Ferndale?’ Jenny said. ‘Seemed a bit quiet to me.’
‘That was never going to work,’ Vera said with certainty. ‘Drew’s a strong independent woman and needs someone who can support that.’
Esther gazed from Jenny to Vera open-mouthed. ‘Have you finished talking about my daughter?’ she said, sitting stiffly in the chair.
‘We’re just saying,’ Vera defended. ‘Don’t you think we should help her find love?’
Esther huffed, sipped at her tea. In truth, she had been concerned for Drew longer than she dared think. Drew seemed to struggle to find the right man; one she could settle down with. She’d been on the occasional date but nothing that had lasted, even though a good number of eligible bachelors had passed her way over the years. ‘I really liked that handsome surgeon from Broadermere,’ she said. ‘Not sure why that didn’t work out.’
‘He was too up his own arse,’ Vera said.
‘V,’ Jenny admonished.
‘He was. I was in the pub and he talked about nothing other than himself and his work. Poor Drew came over quite pale during their meal as he started describing in great detail the prolapsed bowel surgery he had performed just before their date. She couldn’t stop looking at his hands after that and I’m sure she wasn’t wondering about what they would do to her!’ Vera said.
‘You’re exaggerating,’ Esther said and huffed again then crossed her arms in a defiant gesture.
‘She couldn’t even shake hands with him when they parted, and I know she’s never seen him again,’ Vera continued. She sipped at the hooch and drifted in thought, silence settling between them for a time. ‘Perhaps we should be looking in another direction.’
Jenny and Esther looked to Vera who seemed to have a glint in her eye.
‘I don’t think there’s anyone out Ferndale way,’ Esther said, completely missing the point Vera was about to make.
Jenny smiled knowingly at Vera.
Delia watched the sparring she sensed was about to kick off.
‘No,’ Vera said. ‘I don’t mean that kind of direction. I mean, what if we should be looking for eligible women?’
‘WHAT!’ Esther exploded and slammed a hand to the table, and the china teacup rattled in the saucer. ‘What are you talking about? My Drew’s not like that.’
Vera’s eyes widened and then her posture straightened in the chair. Her jaw tensed and she zeroed in on Esther and then with a calm tone that didn’t match her features, said, ‘What exactly do you mean by that, Esther?’
Esther continued, oblivious to the offence she had caused. ‘My Drew is not a lesbian,’ she asserted and crossed her arms again.
Oh, dear, Delia thought.
Jenny was shaking her head, studying their friend across the table. She sensed Vera’s anger knowing exactly where it came from and felt sorry for Esther with her blind insensitivity. She was sure Esther didn’t mean what she said. Did she? Esther had been a little out of sorts recently, too, Jenny had noticed. Elvis’s death seemed to have affected them all in one way or another. She tried to hold Esther’s shifting gaze and spoke to her in a soft tone. ‘And if she were?’ she said.
‘She’s not, and that’s final,’ Esther said, avoiding eye contact with the two women who were now staring at her.
‘And how is it a problem if she is?’ Vera said, stiffly, leaning across the table. She needed to press the point.
Esther couldn’t face Vera and her eyes searched the room. ‘She’s just not like you and Harriet,’ she said to Vera, her tone quieter.
Oh, dear, Delia thought, shaking her head.
Jenny watched the standoff building, sat up in her chair and sipped at her drink. This needed calming before Vera lost her rag completely. She placed a comforting hand on Vera’s arm and squeezed. ‘Well, how about we explore both options?’ she said in a gentle tone, gazing from one woman to the other, hoping for a compromise.
Delia looked at Vera with compassion and settled on Esther with desolation.
Esther was shaking her head. She couldn’t possibly conceive that her daughter might be a lesbian. Definitely not. That might be okay for others, like Harriet and Grace and even Jenny who was fluid and Vera who was just Vera. But it wasn’t right for her baby girl. She studied the three women looking at her. She couldn’t be a party to setting her daughter up on a date with another woman, but she would like to see Drew happily married to a man. And, she was convinced they, her friends, were wrong. She sat up in her chair, determined to prove the point, picked up her tea and sipped. ‘I’m not setting her up with another woman,’ she said. ‘And I’ll say no more on the subject,’ Esther’s nose lifted in the air and she looked away from the women at the table.
Vera smiled through tight lips, the glint of competitiveness in her eye shifting her from the indignation she had felt at Esther’s bigoted response to her desire to prove that Drew was a lesbian. And prove it, she would.
Drew just hadn’t found the right woman. There had been a point in time when Drew and Harriet were in their late teens that Vera had thought they might become lovers, but for whatever reason they never had. Jenny had hoped for that, too. When Harriet had been with Annabel, Drew had watched from a distance and always been there when Harriet needed support. Drew had been a constant in Harriet’s life and whether Harriet had realised it or not, Vera had suspected that Drew loved her and cared for her deeply. With Grace coming into Harriet’s life now, perhaps Drew was feeling the loneliness again. ‘Right,’ she said, deep in thought about how they might approach the dilemma.
Delia, sensing the tension wasn’t shifting, reached into her handbag, pulled out a white cloth and laid it out on the table. Shaking the black satin-silk bag of stones, she closed her eyes. Vera, Jenny and Esther watched her expectantly. Delia moaned to herself, dipped her hand into the bag, pulled out a stone and placed it on the cloth. She repeated the process again, placing the next stone to the left of the first and then again until three stones with odd markings sat in front of the women.
‘What are they?’ Jenny said.
Delia took in a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘Rune stones,’ she said. ‘I’ve just started working with them, so be patient with me.’
Esther rolled her eyes, and Vera glared at her.
‘What do they mean?’ Jenny said, moving to pick up the first stone.
Delia batted her hand away and said, ‘Don’t touch them.’ She studied the pattern on the stone then looked through the guidebook. ‘Right, so this is the stone that represents the problem,’ she said.
‘What problem?’ Esther said.
‘Drew’s problem,’ Delia said.
Esther stiffened in the seat. ‘Drew doesn’t have a problem.’
‘Not a problem, problem,’ Vera said, trying to pacify the defensive mother.
‘The situation,’ Delia said, smiling at Esther.
‘Go on, what does the stone mean,’ Jenny said, studying the diamond shape perched on top of another diamond shape, eager to discover the message that might help them.
Delia flicked through the pages of the book. ‘OTHALA,’ she said.
‘Ooh!’ Jenny said and sipped from her drink.
‘It means freedom and independence.’
‘We all know Drew’s independent,’ Esther interrupted, waving a hand dismissively at the three other women.
‘Yes, but this is about releasing ideas that will keep you stuck,’ Delia said.
‘What does that mean?’ Jenny said, enthusiastically.
‘I’m not entirely sure, but it’s likely that Drew has old beliefs and stuff that are stopping her from falling in love,’ Delia said. She smiled warmly and with a hint of sadness.
‘Harrumph!’ Esther grumped.
‘That’s interesting,’ Jenny said. She wasn’t going to be put off by Esther’s ranting. ‘What about the next one?’
‘So, this stone represents the challenge. It’s called.’ She paused, leafing through the pages again. ‘PERTHRO. Gosh, that’s a powerful stone. It’s about something hidden, secrets and being free from entanglement, keeping your faith firm and letting go of everything.’ She looked up; three pairs of wide-eyes staring back at her.
Esther frowned then curled up her nose. ‘Utter poppycock!’ she said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘The challenge is related to something hidden. Maybe something Drew doesn’t even know about,’ Delia said, though she didn’t sound too certain.
‘That’s why she needs our help,’ Vera said confidently and sat upright in the seat. She sipped at her drink, head nodding in affirmation.
‘What’s the third stone?’ Jenny said, looking at the zigzag, lightning-like pattern.
‘SOWILO. It means the path to self-awareness and self-knowledge. Seeing that which makes you destructive to yourself and others.’
‘I’ve heard enough of this.’ Esther stood from the table. ‘My Drew does not lack awareness. She’s kind, considerate and loving. She’s not destructive. A load of bollocks!’ she said and stormed out the door.
‘Oh dear,’ Delia said and looked quite upset.
‘Don’t worry about her, the old fart,’ Vera said. ‘She doesn’t get it, but she’ll come around in her own time.’ She shrugged and sipped at her drink. She wasn’t going to give credence to Esther’s punishing words, she was just going to prove Esther wrong. She smiled, confident in her ability to win this particular battle. She turned her attention to Delia.
‘This is about seeking change to heal and being complete with herself,’ Delia continued.
‘I think Esther could do with a bit of that there healing,’ Vera said and refilled her glass.
‘So, what do we think?’ Jenny said, looking to the two other women.
‘Drew’s a lesbian,’ Vera said with certainty.
‘Esther’s not buying that,’ Jenny said shaking her head.
‘Esther’s delusional,’ Vera said. ‘And menopausal. It’s not a good combination.’
Jenny nodded. Vera could be right on the latter point.
‘What about setting up a speed dating event in the pub?’ Delia said.
Vera and Jenny turned, studied her, and frowned.
‘How does that work?’ Jenny said.
‘You invite people along who are looking for love and they all move around the seats when the whistle goes and speak to each other for ten-minutes or maybe less, I can’t remember, and see if they connect. I saw it on the L-Word,’ Delia said and looked pleased with herself as she pulled another stone from the pouch.
‘I understand that much,’ Jenny said and raised her eyebrows. ‘I mean, it would need to be for a target audience; lesbian, bi, straight, etc?’
‘Speed dating won’t work with a mixed group,’ Vera said shaking her head in agreement. ‘I’ll have a look at one of the lesbian dating websites.’
‘She could be bi?’ Delia said.
Vera gazed at Delia and smiled. ‘She might be, but if we’re looking to find a woman for her, a lesbian is a good start point.’
‘Good idea,’ Jenny said.
‘Is that the plan, then?’ Delia said. She looked at the stone, studied the guide. ‘JERA. Things will happen exactly as they should,’ and snapped the book closed, with a satisfied grin.
Vera nodded. ‘It’s a start.’
The three women sipped at their drinks and then Delia reached for the Tarot cards. ‘Now, what are we going to do about Esther?’ she said, and started to shuffle the pack.
*
Drew slumped onto the sofa, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. An image of Faith appeared and she groaned. The dark-green eyes that seemed to lighten when she smiled, captivate her with the sparkle that held compassion and warmth, the beautifully smooth skin of her cheeks, the jawline that led to her tempting lips, the soft, sensual smile that reached in and tugged at her heart. Damn, she was busted. There was no denying this feeling. A Vicar, for Christ’s sake! She chuckled at the irony. She rubbed at her forehead, but the image wouldn’t leave her. The line of Faith’s shoulders; the feminine strength, and even the tattoos were striking on her naturally, lightly tanned skin. She was fit; athletic. Drew had noticed her firm breasts, slim waist, narrow hips and legs of perfect length. Jeez, the urge to touch Faith; have Faith touch her was driving her wild.
She groaned, rose from the seat and went to the fridge. It had been a long time since she had felt this strongly about anyone and those feelings she had learned to control; buried them, forgetting that they had ever existed and transferred them into a strong sense of loyalty and protection. Since realising her feelings for Harriet, she had felt nothing like it for anyone since.
Now this, Faith, had come out of the blue and quite literally blown her away. There was only one problem, well perhaps more than one, but the biggest issue at the forefront of her mind, the one that she didn’t know how to get around, was that Faith was a Vicar, and that made her out-of-bounds! She pulled out a bottle of Sauvignon, poured a large glass and drank it in one hit. She refilled the glass and returned to the sofa, reclaiming the comforting warmth of the soft cushions.
She’d declined to go to the pub after the meeting. She couldn’t talk to Harriet and Grace until she’d got to grips with her thoughts, and she certainly couldn’t face the new Vicar until she’d worked out how to handle the emotional turmoil that had turned her world upside down in the last few hours.
She slugged the wine, emptied her glass swiftly, enjoying the dulling effect it was having on the continuous stream of competing thoughts. Was Faith a lesbian, or bi? What were the rules for a Vicar around same-sex relationships? Why was she even considering these questions? A Vicar was a no go, she repeated in thought.
Within a short time, she found herself relaxing and a loss of inhibition had her drifting into a fantasy about the dark-haired Vicar. Eyes closed, she undid her jeans and slid her hand down into the soft wet heat, locating the throbbing between her legs. She drew slow, delicate circles around the swollen bud, inflaming it and shifted to lie back on the sofa, spreading her knees wider, exploring more intimately. She groaned, writhed at the touch, and dipped her finger deeper into the folds, drawing the wetness over herself and then plunging deeper. Rhythmically, she repeated the pattern, toying with the pressure, jerking with the sensation. Faith’s hands: Faith’s fingers: Faith’s tongue. Driving her up, filling her, and then overflowing, drowning in a sparkling shower of electric impulses, she screamed out. Her body in spasm, heat, lust infusing her she started to giggle and then tears slid down the sides of her eyes and she curled into a ball, hands clasped around her knees. What the fuck was she going to do? She needed to find another outlet for her desires. She would bake. That’s what she needed to do. She eased herself off the sofa, did up her jeans and went to the sink. Buns came to mind and she couldn’t shake the image of Faith smiling at her across the counter.
4.
‘Thanks, mum,’ Drew said. She walked past Esther at the café counter and dumped the carrier bag on the kitchen surface. ‘Seems everyone wants tomato sauce today,’ she said, still slightly bemused that she had managed to run out.
It had been an odd week though, and she had felt more than a little distracted. On a good note, she had managed to get to grips with her infatuation with Faith, having only had two lustful thought a day for the past two days. That was progress. With Faith coming to the café every day for coffee, it hadn’t been easy, but, somehow, she had managed to see the stunning woman in a new light. A dog collar and religious kind of light, and that had served to dampen just about every amorous feeling in her body, if only for a short length of time. Sex with a vicar had never featured highly on her list of fantasies. There was just something wrong about it in her mind. Yes, the dog collar was a good deterrent.
‘It’s been a busy day,’ Esther said. ‘I don’t know how you cope.’
‘Market day usually is,’ Drew said, unpacking the bag. ‘Delia’s potions and predictions seem popular.’
‘Hello, Vicar, what can I get you?’ Esther said, ignoring her daughter’s comment.
Faith smiled. ‘Hello, Esther, Cappuccino, please.’
‘Right you are,’ Esther said and turned to the machine.
Drew came through from the kitchen as a man in a trilby approached the counter.
‘Hello, Drew,’ Faith said and smiled.
‘Hello, Vicar,’ Drew said and smiled softly.
The man cleared his throat.
‘Hi, what can I get you?’ Drew said to him, feeling a tad irritated at the interruption.
‘Latte, extra hot, please,’ he said and held Drew in his lingering gaze.
Drew smiled at him, as she did all new customers, and he grinned.
‘Latte, extra hot for the gentleman,’ she said to Esther, who started to prepare a second coffee.
Drew took his money and she noticed the coins were very hot in her hand. The man was staring at her and smiling, his eyes dark and intense. His clean-shaven cheeks had a red complexion and he seemed a little on edge. ‘Are you Drew?’ he said.
