Checked Out, page 11
Though Peri found the leader’s elaborate headdress a little hokey, there was nothing contrived about the names people spoke and the obvious grief behind them. When her turn came she called to mind the rock of her grandmother’s love and faith, and her mother’s ardent celebration of cultural exchange as a way to peace. Had she ever had passion or conviction in her life the way they had? “For Mary Belle my grandmother and Jacqueline my mother.”
Nomisma’s voice grew heavy and thick. ::They are all gone. She who made me, her warriors, all gone.::
Tears abruptly swam in Peri’s eyes. Nomisma’s turmoil spilled fleeting images of bonfires through the background of her mind, and the keen of mourners made it hard to hear anything else. She checked herself from pleading with Nomisma to calm down — wasn’t this the time and place for grief?
::It is hard to remember why I endure sometimes.::
You are in the service of love, aren’t you?
Lisette switched her lantern on, and her lovely, intriguing face was bathed in gold. The reflections of all the points of light made her glasses shimmer. Peri thought that she could look at that face and never grow tired of it. But it was more than her face and curvy elegance. Lisette had passionate convictions about the things that mattered to her, and it captured and held Peri in spellbound admiration.
She hoped the tea light she held was too faint for Lisette to realize that Peri was helplessly staring at her.
She forced her attention back to the ceremony. The lighting around the circle of gatherers was complete, and they stood in a bubble of light under the dark canopy of cold stars.
The tall man raised his arms. “Children of Love, let’s do our best to honor our missing beloveds with our joyfully spread happiness at the return of the light.”
::The Beloved is gone, and I was cast into the sea.:: Then, in choked sadness ::There is no end to my life and no limit to my grief. I am lost.:: A keening cry filled Peri’s mind.
Is there anything I can do?
::You have no magic. You are a stranger to love.::
I know what love is.
::It stands before you and you won’t embrace it. I am lost, lost—:: The high keening cry began again, and Peri had no idea how she might comfort Nomisma. What could she do that would change the fact that a long existence meant loss on a scale Peri couldn’t fathom?
The cry inside her peaked, then abruptly stopped.
Nomisma?
Nothing.
We can watch another episode of Wynona later.
Nothing.
Lisette was chatting with people — everybody knew her, it seemed — and clearly heading for the refreshments table. These New Englanders did like their hot beverages. Given that Peri couldn’t feel the tip of her nose, she completely understood. It smelled like cider, and since kids were having it, that’s all it was. Lisette now had a cup of hot cider at her lips.
I will not be so in the service of love that I wish I was that cup. But she was, and she did.
Lisette’s gaze met Peri’s. Her lips curved in a wider smile.
Peri didn’t remember closing the distance between them.
“You decided to come. What did you think?”
“That taking the time to revisit our grief is a good thing. There’s something about the cold of winter that has made me think of my grandmother and mother more in the last few days than I probably did the last six months or more. Is that awful?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think of my mother all the time because my father lives in the house they shared and where I grew up. My library is the one she took me to.”
“You have roots.”
“I have a freaking forest. It’s been six years, and I see her everywhere, and that feels normal. How long ago did your people pass?”
Peri had made it to the front of the line and gratefully accepted a glass of cider. She’d come prepared for the donation box and dropped in a bill. “Eleven and twelve years. First my grandmother, and she had prepared as if she knew she would be called home, as she put it. My mother had no warning. The following year, a stroke.”
“Not to pry, but you’ve never mentioned your father.”
“Sperm donor.”
“Really?”
“She wanted kids, but she did not want a husband. My grandmother wasn’t happy about it, but apparently I was so adorable she got over the lack of wedlock and was delighted when my mother did it a second time and Jan was born. Technically we’re half siblings, different donors. Between the two of them they did a fine job of raising us both. I never felt any lack of love or support, and I think Jan would say the same thing.”
“You’ve had an unusual life.”
“Who’s to say what’s unusual these days?”
“Touché. Certainly not me.” Lisette suddenly seemed nervous, and her gaze slid away from Peri’s.
What would Nomisma do?
Before Peri could think of an answer, Lisette gave a half wave to someone behind Peri. “See you tomorrow night, six thirty, right?”
“Yes. Sure. Will you have eaten, or should I bring something for dinner?” There, that was something Nomisma would do.
Lisette’s lips curved in a pleased smile. “Dinner would be welcome, thank you. I’ll eat anything except roadkill. And walnuts.”
With no reason to linger, Peri got her frozen nose into the rental car and home as soon as possible. A hot shower felt divine. Through it all Nomisma didn’t comment. Peri thought about turning on Wynona Earp to see if that got a response but decided instead on reading in bed, made easier by a shoulder that worked again — well, enough to hold a book while she turned the pages with the other hand.
Of course she fell asleep and woke later with the book on her chest wondering what she’d done to make Lisette nervous.
::You made her nervous?::
“You’re back.”
::Did you miss me?::
Peri didn’t want to admit it.
::I think you missed me.::
“Are you feeling better?”
::No? Yes? I am calm. There is nothing I can change about the past. Powerlessness is nevertheless distressing.::
Peri closed the book and set it gently on the floor. “Let’s continue this talk tomorrow, okay?”
::No Wynona tonight?::
“You missed your window.” She turned out the light.
::You made her nervous?::
“Don’t make me put you in a drawer.”
PART FOUR
To Face Unafraid
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE MOMENT LISETTE GOT home from work, she put out fresh hand towels in the guest bath, donned a not-quite-as-white-as-it-used-to-be apron, and began organizing the evening’s plan for baking.
Recipe cards were taped to the cabinets over the work area. Eggs were counted and put in a bowl to come up to room temperature. Butter needed was calculated and set out to soften. Her usual cookie sheets were joined by the ones she kept in the back porch cupboard, along with the extra set of mixing bowls. She unearthed the big sifter that had been her grandmother’s. It held twelve cups of flour and wasn’t for the weak when it came to turning the crank.
If she kept Peri busy, then maybe Peri wouldn’t figure out that all Lisette could think about was what it would be like to kiss her. The urge had been so strong last night that she’d run away. Sansa was right — she was scared of wanting more than she had.
The doorbell rang as Lisette uncorked a bottle of ordinary red table wine. Peri was carrying two bags of Thai food and looked well rested. Every day she seemed less green around the gills, as her father would say. The cold air had reddened the scar across her face, but it was not as livid as it had been at their first meeting.
“Shrimp pad thai and chicken satay?”
“Perfection,” she declared. “My favorites.”
“I got extra peanut dipping sauce. It’s one of best creations of all time, in my opinion.”
“Oh good, then you won’t have to fight me for it.” She led the way to the kitchen. “I left some space at the table so we could eat.”
Peri laughed when she came into the room. “I think you’re ready for anything.”
She flushed. “I am obsessed with Christmas cookies.”
“There are worse things to obsess about.”
Serving spoons and plates fetched, Lisette invited Peri to the table. “Let’s not let it get cold.”
They settled, and Lisette was aware of Peri’s subtle scrutiny of the kitchen. “This was originally a summer cabin. Tiny structure, big yard. I think every owner but me has added an addition, creating a bit of a rabbit warren. I love it for lots of reasons. One being that an owner must have been a baker, and the kitchen is small but mighty.”
“I can see that. Two ovens?”
“And a proving drawer for bread dough.”
“There are glass noodle egg rolls.” Peri passed her a container. “Did you end up with all the peanut sauce?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Sure, sure.”
Lisette heaved a sigh of satisfaction at her first bite of chicken satay dunked liberally in the mildly spicy peanut sauce. “Would you like a glass of wine, or is that a no-no with your meds? It’s a cheap merlot, so you wouldn’t be missing much.”
“I’ve weaned myself onto a low dose the last couple of days. So…” She paused, and Lisette could see her weighing the choice. “Yes. I think I would enjoy a taste. It’s been a while.”
“I tend to drink wine while I bake. The last batch of cookies might be a little less uniform than the first, but it keeps me from oversampling the end product.” She fetched the bottle and two glasses and returned to her food. Her curiosity got the better of her. “How were you injured?”
“An explosion.” Peri nodded at her glass when it reached about two fingers high. “That’s perfect.”
“Accident?”
“No. I just happened to be in the building when a bomb threat came in, and it was an all-hands search for it. There was less time than was originally thought and…” She made a gesture that followed the direction of the scar.
Lisette digested that. Peri hadn’t spent her life running into danger but wouldn’t refuse to go if called. “Lucky you,” she said dryly.
“Lucky me. As it turns out, lucky everyone. The bad guys missed their target. It certainly wasn’t me, and I survived.”
“I’m glad,” she said more fervently than she intended to. “When do you go back?”
Peri sipped the wine and nodded. “A perfectly drinkable merlot. Thank you. My leave is actually for six weeks, but…”
Lisette waited.
“I might not go back.”
Be cool. “Why is that?”
“I’ve reassessed. I’m almost thirty-seven and it’s not where I want to be for the next twenty years. Before you ask, I have no idea what I’ll do instead. I was thinking about making a change before the accident, but being here has given me some distance, and I think I need a big change.”
“Starting over can be hard, but rewarding,” Lisette said earnestly. “This won’t surprise you, but the library does have extensive resources about starting second careers.”
Peri’s brown eyes were alight with humor. “Then I will be sure to ask you my second career research questions.”
Lisette concentrated on her food, unable to hide her smile. She hoped Peri thought it was about their running joke, but it really was because a dancing sprite of pure joy was turning circles in her stomach and shouting, “She might not leave, she might stay.”
After dinner was tidied up, Peri rolled up her sleeves.
“You really haven’t baked much?”
“That’s why I started with sugar cookies. They seemed simple.”
“They are, when you know the basics. Why don’t we stir up a double batch of sugar cookie dough, half for me and half for you? My tuxedo cookies start with that base.”
“I’m aiming for cookie-cutters-and-sprinkles-type cookies. Enough to stay off the sheriff’s naughty list.”
“That’ll do it. They don’t have to be elaborate. They just can’t be store-bought.”
“How about I measure ingredients? I was good in chemistry.”
“Terrific. I need five and half cups of sifted flour and three cups of sugar. I’ll crack the eggs and get them whisking with the butter.”
Peri carefully measured the flour into the sifter and fumbled with the crank.
“Can you manage it?”
“Yes. My left shoulder is coming back online, so to speak. If I brace it against my waist…”
“Want an apron?”
“Sure.”
Lisette found another in the drawer. “Allow me.” She looped it over Peri’s neck and before she made some kind of disastrously meaningful eye contact, moved around to tie it in the back. “There you go.”
Peri went back to mastering the sifter. She smiled brightly as flour drifted into the bowl below. “I’m good at this. Can I sift the sugar?”
Lisette tried not to laugh. “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Okay, boss.”
“Am I being bossy?”
“Yes.” Peri looked up from the sifter and Lisette realized she’d not noticed how long Peri’s lashes were. “I don’t mind.”
It felt wicked hot in the kitchen now. “When you have a chance, I need one and a quarter cups of chocolate chips. I need to start them melting. It takes forever.”
“Flour is done. The semi-sweet?”
Lisette checked the recipe to confirm her memory. “Good question, thanks. I need half in milk, and half in semi-sweet.”
The bags rustled as Peri picked one up.
“You should probably use sciss—”
Her warning was too late. The bags tore easily with the right amount of pressure. Peri had applied more than enough, and the contents exploded across the counter and floor.
“Lord, I’m sorry!”
“Five second rule!” Lisette dropped to the floor and scrabbled up as many of the chips as she could, dumping them in her apron. Peri joined her, her face the picture of chagrin though she was laughing.
Lunging for another handful, she didn’t realize Peri was grabbing for the same ones until their heads collided. She saw stars and plunked down on her butt. “Is your head made of brick?”
Peri joined Lisette on the floor, back against the counter. “Takes one to know one.”
“Childish!” She threw a chocolate chip at her. No, she thought, Peri is nothing like that asshat FBI guy. I want to kiss her, and even worse, I could care about her.
Peri’s face was relaxed in laughter and her brown eyes were wide and bright.
Lisette’s breath caught and her own laughter faded but she couldn’t force herself to go back to picking up the mess. They gazed at each other, shoulders inches apart.
Lisette couldn’t find a word to say. Peri seemed about to speak but abruptly got to her feet. “Where’s a broom and a dustpan?”
She pointed out the pantry. “I think if I put these in a colander to rinse and spread them out on a tea towel, they’ll be fine.”
An hour later, with the dough for cranberry snowflakes chilling in the refrigerator and the first batch of tuxedo cookies rolled out, Peri settled in to use cookie cutter bells and stars for her final sugar cookies.
“I’ll get the snickerdoodles started while you cut those out.”
“What exactly is a snickerdoodle?”
“You’ve never had one?” Lisette hoped Peri would attribute her slightly breathless tone to her vigorous whisking of the eggs.
“Not that I know of.”
“A sugar cookie rolled in cinnamon sugar before it’s baked. But not the usual sugar cookie — it’s got a tartness that brings out the cinnamon and they are extremely addictive. We’ll do them last because our hands will be a mess.”
“Should I be scared?” Peri pressed down gently on the dough, checked it, and tried again, holding up the result. “How’s that?”
“Perfect. The snickerdoodle mess is edible if you’re into cookie dough. They’re the first cookie I remember ever helping my mom with. The dough is rolled into balls by hand, then in the cinnamon sugar.”
“Ah, I get the appeal.” She was working more quickly now, and Lisette was amused by the little noise of satisfaction Peri made when the excess dough lifted away, and twelve perfect stars and bells were left behind.
“Those go into the oven now for twelve minutes, then we check the color.”
They worked companionably, and Lisette was proud of herself for not jumping every time their hands brushed. Nor did she make the sound she felt in her throat as they bent together over the cookie sheets to check for doneness.
It was nearly ten o’clock when they agreed their efforts were finished for the night.
“This was much faster with two people.” Lisette looked up from stacking the cooled batches. “All I have left to do is dipping half the bow tie cookies into melted chocolate and another batch of snickerdoodles to bag up for staff to take home if they’d like.”
“I feel like I didn’t help that much.”
To Lisette, Peri looked both pleased and tired. “You followed directions very well for a beginner. Your batch of iced sugar cookies came out lovely. Sansa will be pleased. It doesn’t pay to irk her.” At Peri’s grunt of not-quite agreement, she asked, “What?”
“I was just thinking in that regard you two are peas in a pod.”
Lisette narrowed her eyes. “No. It would not pay to irk me either.”
Peri did not look appropriately chastened as she shrugged into her coat. “I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
Lisette heard Peri gasp as they stepped out onto the porch. “Now that’s brisk. Go back inside. You’ll freeze out here.”
“I’m made of hardy stuff.” Lisette nodded toward the street, hoping her voice was steadier than it sounded to her. “It looks like you might run into some glazed roads, so be careful.”
