Liberty Bay, page 19
She set her armload of stuff on the desk and picked up the phone. As much as she professed to hate telephones, she had memorized Gina’s number and dialed it now. When she had first met Gina and heard about her internet career, she had assumed she’d be the type who couldn’t even set her phone down without having an anxiety attack. Now, though, she knew Gina well enough that she wasn’t surprised when her call went to voice mail. If Gina was working or online talking to a friend, she wouldn’t break to answer a call. Then again, she might have recognized Wren’s number and chosen not to answer.
Or she might be on a date.
Wren stumbled through her first words of her message, shaken by the thought even though Gina had every right to date someone else.
“Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the photos. They’re beautiful, and you did a perfect job of framing them.” She paused but pushed on again quickly in case the recording cut her off. She didn’t want to call back and have to go through this again. “I know we both were aware of the way things would end for us, with you going back to the twenty-first century and me staying here in the nineteenth, but I guess I didn’t realize how hard it would be until it actually happened. I’m sorry things were tense between us at the end. I…”
I what? I’ll talk to you later? Wren wouldn’t call her again. I love you? She couldn’t say that.
“I hope you’re happy. Good-bye, Gina.”
She hung up the phone and picked up the photos and herbs again, walking through the darkening evening to her house. She supposed it hadn’t really mattered what she said in her message. In the end, I love you and I hope you’re happy meant the same thing.
Chapter Nineteen
Gina parked her rental car in front of a rust-colored house with yellow trim. The wide front porch had columns framing the front door, also painted yellow and supporting a high-peaked gable roof. She sat in her idling vehicle under a large leafy tree that looked as if it was dripping vines onto the sidewalk. They swayed in a light breeze, just brushing across the roof of her car. The Berry Hill neighborhood reminded her of Beacon Hill. It was far enough outside the city of Nashville to feel homey, but close enough to have the big-city sense of diversity and quirkiness.
She felt uncomfortably like a stalker as she waited to summon the courage to call Maia. She hadn’t let her friend know she was coming, partly because she hadn’t made the decision until just this morning. She didn’t want to show up on Maia’s doorstep in person and unannounced, without giving her at least a chance to tell Gina to go away. She was pretty sure she didn’t have to worry, since Maia seemed to have a much fuller real-world life than Gina did, and to be less awkward when it came to in-person relationships. She had friends she met in Nashville for drinks and game nights balanced alongside her online relationships. Gina had the latter, but no one she considered really close in the former category. She had a quick thought of Dianna, Nick and his boys, and Linda flash through her mind, but she dismissed them. They didn’t count because they were Wren’s friends, not hers, although she could easily imagine spending time with them if things had turned out differently with Wren. She hadn’t had the same trouble talking to them, making jokes and laughing with them, as she had when she tried to talk to…
Oh. She couldn’t remember the last time she had really tried to connect with someone deeply enough to be pushed out of her comfort zone. In Seattle, she had made small talk with her landlord’s family, or with people she encountered in shops. She had carried on careful conversations at PR events, always with the awareness that these people were her peers, but also her competition. She was comfortable carrying on those low-risk conversations, but until she had gone to Poulsbo, she hadn’t put herself on the line enough to take a chance of emotional pain.
She had been shy as a child and teen, when she had attempted to make friends and had met only teasing and bullying, but she was an adult now. No longer a child whose self-esteem and confidence were dependent on approval from others. No longer someone who wanted someone—anyone—to like her, but a woman who recognized which people and opinions really mattered to her. She had held on to those habits, though, of holding herself apart and not opening herself up to possible rejection. Now, not only was she less likely to face rejection than she had been in her small-minded and afraid-of-anyone-different community, but she was strong enough to handle it if it came.
Yet here she was, hiding in her car outside her good friend’s house. A friend who had repeatedly asked her to visit and had even offered to come to Seattle. Gina had always been concerned that their easy friendship wouldn’t survive the transition from virtual to live, and she had been afraid of losing it. Did she really think Maia was going to tell her to leave? Close her curtains and turn out the lights to fool Gina into thinking she wasn’t home? She hated thinking about how much she had missed by pushing other people away.
And Wren. Even worse was imagining if she hadn’t been herself with Wren, rolling her eyes at Wren’s cranky act, moving onto her farm where they would be in close contact, and refusing to avoid her. No matter how hurt she had been when their relationship ended, she would much rather accept the pain if it meant she could keep her memories of their time together.
Gina got out of the car and slammed her door, angry with those stupid kids from her childhood for still living in her head, and even more irate with herself for letting them. Finished with her low-key venting, she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with Tennessee air—sweeter and muggier than Seattle’s. She liked what she had seen of the city so far, and she might have been tempted to consider a move here since she still didn’t have a new place to live in Seattle. No matter how sweet and floral the air was here, though, it couldn’t compare to the Pacific Northwest, where Wren’s breath was close enough to add to the molecules Gina inhaled.
Gina sighed, letting the sadness of her Wren-less life move over and through her. She had learned to stop fighting the feeling when it came, or it would build and threaten to incapacitate her. She had to accept the sorrow. Learn to live with it. Once the acute hurt had eased a little, she held up her phone and called Maia, centering Maia’s front porch on her screen.
“Hi, Gina. What’s—Hey, is that my house?”
“Yes, I…” Gina was about to explain her unexpected arrival, but she heard a shriek and the image of Maia on her screen was replaced by a sudden tilting blur, apparently a view of Maia’s rug as her phone tumbled to the floor. Then she was outside, pulling Gina into a hug before she had a chance to end their call and put her phone away.
Maia stepped back, and questions tumbled out of her. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How long are you staying?”
Gina opened her mouth to try to answer everything, but Maia was peering in the car. “Where’s your luggage? Let’s go inside and talk.”
“I was going to get a hotel,” Gina said. She obviously didn’t need to be worried about whether Maia was happy to see her, but a stop-by visitor and a drop-in houseguest were two very different things.
Maia put her hands on her hips. “If you tell me that Wren is hiding somewhere in this car, and the two of you want the privacy of a hotel room, I’ll help you find one. If you still haven’t made up with her, then you’re staying here so I can talk some sense into you.”
Gina blinked back a sudden pang of tears at the thought of how much fun it would have been to come here with Wren. She and Maia had gotten along so well on the phone—Wren’s nemesis in the world of communication—that Gina was sure they’d have enjoyed each other’s company even more in person. She shook her head. “No lectures, okay? Besides, she’s the one who ended it. If anyone needs an infusion of sense, it’s her not me.”
“Oh, right,” Maia said, drawing out the syllables. “She told you to leave her farm and go back to Seattle and after you begged to be able to move in with her. I forgot. That bitch.”
Gina shook her head, trying to laugh at Maia’s sarcasm, but failing. Her face must have reflected how much the memory of her missteps hurt because Maia’s expression softened.
“No lectures,” she promised. “For at least an hour.”
Maia led her inside and gave her a tour of the modest, three-bedroom house. Gina recognized some things from Maia’s videos and photos, both areas she used as backdrops for filming and objects she had featured in Instagram stories. The experience was a little bizarre as Gina had traveled halfway across the country to a home—a whole state, really—where she’d never been before, and yet everything around seemed familiar. It helped make her feel relaxed and at home, and she made up the sofa bed in the spare room while Maia called her husband.
“All set,” Maia said when she came back into the room just as Gina put a blue and green striped case over a pillow and laid it at the head of the bed. “Kirk will meet us downtown after work, and we can have dinner. It’ll be nice enough to take a walk around the neighborhood after we eat, and then we can go get some drinks. Our favorite pub has open mic every weeknight.”
“Sounds like fun,” Gina said, forcing a smile even though her mind had returned to Wren, as it always did when she was making plans and wishing Wren could be part of them.
“We have another couple hours before we need to meet him, so let me finish editing the video I was working on when you called. Then we can head into the city and do some shopping. There’s a great music store, and an indie bookstore I know you’ll love. And we can get coffee at a café that makes the hugest cookies.” She paused and looked over her shoulder at Gina as she led the way into the extra room she and her husband had converted into a studio. “How long are you staying? We’ll need at least a month if I’m going to be able to show you everything you need to see.”
Gina laughed. “I’m flying back on Sunday. I’d love to stay longer, but I really need to find an apartment. The extended stay hotel I’m at is expensive, and it’s not even in a good location. I’m practically under the planes taking off from SeaTac.”
Maia sat down at her desk. “Sunday is too soon. I’ll edit fast, and we’ll see how much of Nashville we can cram in before you have to go.” She waved around the room. “Go ahead and explore whatever you want. I know you want to because I’m planning to investigate your filming stuff when I come visit you in Seattle.”
Gina had to admit she was curious to see another influencer’s studio. At first, she wandered around the room, examining items that were on tables or counters, but eventually she gave in to temptation and started prowling through drawers, comparing Maia’s filming equipment and photo props to her own. After her self-guided tour, she had a wish list of items she’d like to have in her own studio someday, as well as a few ideas of things she could get in Seattle that Maia might be able to use. She’d send her a thank-you box for letting her stay as soon as she got home. The prospect of being back in Seattle made her feel a little queasy. Hunting for an affordable—yet still habitable—apartment was going to be stressful. Finding a place to live in by herself when Wren was so close, but still out of reach, was going to be brutal.
“Are you alphabetizing my backdrops?” Maia’s voice interrupted Gina’s circular thoughts. She had just folded a square of deep red satin and tucked it in place near the bottom of the pile she had in front of her. She hadn’t realized what she was doing since it had become a habit in just three weeks for her to seek out busywork to occupy her hands and mind when she started thinking too long about Wren.
“Of course not,” Gina said indignantly. “That would be ridiculous.”
She picked up a yard of red buffalo plaid flannel and placed it under the satin. “I organize by color first, then by weight of the fabric. Brocades, fleeces, and so on are on the bottom, and silks and lace are on top.”
“That’s not ridiculous at all,” Maia said with a laugh. She glanced at her computer screen. “Hey, look. Your girlfriend just posted another video.”
“She’s not my…she what?” Gina dropped the navy fabric on top of the pile and went to look over Maia’s shoulder. “Are you sure it’s not the montage video I made of her farm before I left?”
“No. She’s posted three of her own, where she talks about horse things. I have no idea what any of it means, but she’s hilarious. She has such a droll sense of humor.” Maia frowned at her. “I figured you’d be watching her channels. Are you really over her? Because the two of you make a gorgeous couple.”
“Wren has made three videos?” Gina was having a hard time processing that piece of information, let alone answering Maia’s other questions. She had given Dianna the information for Wren’s online sites, but she had doubted the passwords would ever be used. And now Wren was posting videos? She hadn’t bothered to check Wren’s YouTube channel because she didn’t think anything new would be on it. And if she had wanted to watch Wren riding over and over—which she didn’t…at least not very often—she had the original footage on her laptop.
But there was Wren, gesturing and chatting as if she had been in front of a camera since she was old enough to talk. She was discussing topics she seemed to take very seriously, but Maia was right about her humor—her wit blended with her sardonic expressions made a very appealing combination. Gina barely noticed when Maia got up and gently pushed Gina into her chair in front of the computer. Gina somehow managed to drag her gaze away from Wren’s face and scroll through the comments. She didn’t have a huge following, of course, but she had a decent number of views and comments for a new channel that she was likely doing absolutely nothing to promote.
She was actually responding to comments, too. The earliest responses were probably written by Dianna, Gina thought, but soon enough Wren’s voice and passion were present. She had lengthy threads with a few different people who seemed as fascinated by the topic as she was, including a man from the Netherlands and a woman from Germany.
Gina wasn’t sure how she felt. Pride was close to the top of the list, because Wren had really stepped out of her comfort zone. She felt proud of herself, too, since without her work on the channel, this side of Wren might not have been showcased like it deserved to be.
Mostly, she felt sad. Plain and simple sadness. She missed Wren with an ache that started in her chest and spread outward until every part of her felt it. She wanted to be angry, to whine about how Wren was willing to go online now, in front of strangers, but she hadn’t been willing to give a partially screen-based relationship with Gina a chance.
She knew that anger would be misplaced, though. Wren had powerful feelings about the kinds of things that mattered to her, and a relationship would definitely be one of them. Her online presence would be far down the list, and Wren wouldn’t care if virtual relationships were diluted by distance and a screen. She would care if her love was treated with the same indifference.
Which is exactly what Gina had done when she offered Wren the occasional visit and Zoom session instead of real love.
Gina wiped her damp cheek with the back of her hand. When had she started thinking the word love in connection with Wren? She sighed. She couldn’t pinpoint a date, but she knew the emotion had been behind whichever words she had been using for a long time.
Maia put her arm around Gina’s shoulders and rested her cheek on the top of Gina’s head. “Oh, honey, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Gina nodded.
“So tell her.” Maia tapped the screen. “Put a comment down here. Hey, baby, I miss you.”
Gina laughed, trying to imagine Wren’s reaction to a comment like that. “Not through a computer,” she said. “It’d have to be in person, or she wouldn’t believe I understood her at all. And it’s too late, anyway.”
She had made the exact same mistake when she suggested they move their relationship to the virtual realm to give her a chance to move farther away than the apartment. She knew how much she had hurt Wren because she had offered something so alien to who Wren was as a substitute for what they had been building between them. She had thought she was making the right choice, though. She had to stay true to herself, too, didn’t she?
“It’s never too late,” Maia said, pulling away and dragging another chair close to the computer.
“Besides,” Gina went on, unconvinced by Maia’s last comment, “nothing has changed. I need to live in the city. It’s always been my dream.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.”
Gina frowned at the skepticism in Maia’s voice. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you. I just don’t know if the actual city is the dream. I think getting away from your old town was the dream, and it was a good one to have. Seattle was just the most opposite place you could imagine, so you turned it into a goal.”
“Wren said practically the same thing, that the city was a symbol.”
Maia grinned. “See? Brilliant minds, as they say.”
Gina crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I think you’re both wrong, and I’m the one who should know what my own goals are. And living in the city is the top one.”
“Okay,” Maia said with a shrug. “Why, exactly?”
Gina was about to mention diversity, but she had met people from different ethnic and racial backgrounds among Wren’s friends in Poulsbo, so she focused instead on what set Seattle apart. “Most of all, it’s important for my career. The connections I can make there are unbeatable in the Northwest, and I was surrounded by other influencers when I lived close to downtown.” Maia still didn’t look convinced, so Gina branched into similar arguments Maia had used when she had tried to get Gina to move to Nashville. “Plus, the arts scene is fantastic. Operas, plays, the symphony. SAM, the art museum, has world-renowned exhibitions.”
Maia poked her in the ribs. “If you can name the last opera you saw, I will drop the subject right now and never bring it up again.”
