Parables (Shiva x MrAdam)

[MrAdam]

Tom answered the door, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Oh my G... oodness.... she looks amazing... Hair tied up, shirt knotted up, denim shorts. Denim. Shorts.

The Pastor and other Elders at the church he'd attended as a kid had repeatedly warned the teenage boys under their care about a certain sort of girl. A certain sort of girl who represented temptation. Desire. Sin. Girls who flaunted themselves in search of male attention and affection... temptresses and teases, eager to lead on and to lead astray, and into sin. That last detail was left hazy. Tom wasn't sure how or why, but in his impressionable mind, these girls were always wearing denim shorts, shapely legs tanned and bare. Perhaps it was a detail one of the Elders who regarded them as indecent had added during a Sunday School lesson, or perhaps it was that there was a certain sort of girl.... carefree, relaxed, attractive, distant, unattainable... a little older... who... in his mind, would usually be wearing denim shorts. They'd be in the distance... always in the distance, laughing and joking and larking around... they seemed exotic creatures, compared to the girls who went to his church, prim and proper and demure in their frocks. Policed by parents to within an inch of their young lives. It hadn't been that long since girls wearing pants had been controversial.

To Tom's adolescent eye, these 'temptresses' couldn't be less interested in leading the likes of him astray. If they were agents of Satan, they were playing the very long game. But they held a fascination for him from his very early teens. The forbidden. The exotic. It wasn't so much that he felt carnal lust for them... he'd be a relatively late developer in terms of the adolescent shift from finding girls baffling and infuriating and annoying to finding girls baffling and infuriating and.... enthralling. The shift from thinking that this girl or that girl was pretty - aesthetically - to knowing and feeling with every fibre of his being that this girl or that girl was hot. No, it was something else other than plain lust. It was the freedom, the ease, the carefree confidence that they had, or that he projected onto them that he envied and desired. Away from prying eyes and constant supervision and judgement. One of his earliest fantasies was meeting a girl like that... somehow, somewhere... on holiday, at school, at church camp.. and just hanging out on an endless summer evening. Just being in the warmth of her orbit was enough for him... basking in her glow. Sometimes she had a friend or two or three... but it was just being with them, feeling that freedom. Just for a short time. He'd say something funny and they'd laugh, watching him with their bright eyes and ready smiles, and one of them playing with her long hair. And - more of then than not - denim shorts. As far as fantasies go, it was so chaste it was barely a sin at all.

Mature, adult, pillar of the community Doctor Tom absolutely did not have a weird fetish about cut-off denim shorts. Daisy Dukes. Absolutely not. Having said that.... there was no denying that early experiences and impressions left an indelible mark. And now Lea... dressed like she'd come from a day's work at the nursery or the flower shop... effortlessly pretty. Likely she had no idea how good she looked, or the effect she was having on him. He hoped not, anyway. The girls in his chaste fantasies had usually been tall, leggy... and would sit with one knee raised, one arm around it, and the other leg stretched out... but that had been at a time in his life when girls were suddenly and inexplicably taller than boys. Lea was... well, built like a gymnast. So it wasn't an exact parallel... but it was more than close enough. When he answered the door, he didn't notice her hand shaking, didn't notice her nerves. For a moment, Lea was that fantasy figure, representing beauty and warmth and freedom and.. things he'd been too young to understand beyond a sense that they would be fuzzily wonderful.

"Oh, hi Lea!" he managed to blurt, trying to pull himself together, feeling like a clumsy adolescent with a crush.
"Apples? Sure, I-"

Oh, hello Eve. My temptress.

"I like apples... as long as a serpent hasn't given them to you!" he said, regretting it instantly. What a stupid and downright weird thing to say. No, it's fine. She's Catholic, remember? She'll at least know what you're babbling about. Quick, say something else. Anything else. Nearly anything else.

Asking about apples was an odd question, especially as she didn't appear to be holding any. He'd been half expecting a houseplant or something.. asking about apples indicated perhaps a fruit hamper or something, which might be in the truck still... but wouldn't it be more usual to bring it with her to the door if...

He caught sight of some branches sticking over the sides of the flatbed truck. With familiar looking leaves.
"Have you... have you brought me an apple tree, Lea?" he asked, grinning, not quite believing it. When she confirmed it, he continued.
"Wow... you really shouldn't have! That's amazing! I was only expecting a house plant or something, and not even that really, I..." he tailed off for a moment.
"Treatment for a sprained ankle is only at the bunch-of-flowers/little plot plant on the medical services to horticultural services exchange rate tariff" he said, "I wouldn't normally expect a whole tree for anything less than a broken bone or minor surgery. But thank you... that's very kind of you... you shouldn't have!"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

There were positives and negatives about Tom's reaction when he opened the door.

On the one hand, Hannah had been absolutely right: Lea needed to show of her legs more often. The dark-haired woman had drawn attention from men (and some women) ever since she was a teenager, and she could read the approving expression on Tom's face as though he were screaming his thoughts aloud. And Lea liked it, to the point that she even offered the doctor a wicked little smile and leaned slightly against the doorframe, allowing him to get a better look at the curve of her hip in the shorts. Seeing the usually controlled and professional man suddenly reacting like any heterosexual male around a pretty girl took away some of that intimidating sense of removal about him, and almost made his guest thing that maybe a guy like him was attainable after all. That he wasn't too good for her, and instead of being an untouchable paragon of virtue, he was just as human as she was.

But then came the subject of apples.

"Apples? Sure, I...I like apples... as long as a serpent hasn't given them to you!"

Fuck. This was a stupid idea after all. Lea could appreciate Tom's trying to shake the weirdness of the gift off with a joke, but all the confidence she had felt only moments earlier crumbled into dust at her feet. I should have just offered to fuck him and left it at that she thought to herself. It wasn't technically prostitution if no money changed hands after all, which meant her P.O couldn't say shit about it.

"Well, I mean, there are garter snakes out at the nursery," she admitted with a forced smile as she led him towards the truck bed. "But as far as I know, none of them can talk, so I think you're good. Besides, Father Diego back home always said the real sin was Eve picking the apple when she was told not to. It wasn't the apple's fault, or the trees. And this tree's too young for fruit yet anyway, but I thought, well..."

She swallowed hard, summoning what shattered pieces of her courage she could. "The thing is, this poor tree has been struggling to survive all summer, but he made it through. And I figure if you can save people's lives all the time, you should have no problem with this little fella. He's a Braeburn, and as long as they get lots of light and a decent amount of water they usually thrive, and the fruit is good when it comes in. Jake and Hannah's trees are all Braeburns, and you've had her apple pie, right? It's good shi--stuff." Stifling the curse in a laugh, she popped down the truck bed.

"Anyway, I'd be happy to help you plant him if you want. There's a spot over there that looks pretty good," she pointed towards a sunny area a few feet away from the house. "Or if you don't want to alarm the neighbors, hiring such a cute gardener and all," Lea winked at him in the hopes of turning the embarrassment away from herself and back on the doctor. "Maybe there's a spot in the back? If you aren't sure, he'll do okay in a pot for a few weeks, but you'll definitely want to get him in the ground before the temperatures start dropping."

Carefully, but totally unassisted, she lifted the tree and its pot down from the truck bed and stood it upright beside her. The tops of the branches were only a few inches above her own head, but somehow the leaves already looked brighter and healthier in the fresh afternoon air.

As the shade of the tree fell across her face, Lea could feel her bravado slipping again, and despite her best efforts, she dropped her gaze from Tom's face. "If you don't like him though, that's okay. I won't be offended. I know it's kind of weird to get a tree, but I've gotten to be really fond of this little guy," she looked affectionately over at the apple tree's graceful branches. "And I want to make sure he's taken care of. I know you could do it, but if you don't want to, I can figure out some other way to pay you back for what you did for me."

Pausing, Lea forced herself to look back up into Tom's eyes. "Thank you, again. You really saved me up there. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't come along, and I really, really wanted to show my gratitude. But with the way things are for me right now, this was the best idea I could think of. I'm sorry if I totally blew it."

Her grip tightened on Fred's narrow trunk, and if her hand had been any larger, she just might have broken him entirely.

 

[MrAdam]

She knew. She saw you looking. She knew what you were thinking.... she smiled that knowing smile at you.... she even.... she posed for you. It happened in an instant and was gone. In an instant, she knew what he was thinking, and he knew she knew. She knew he knew she knew. For one moment... one fraction of a second that felt excruciatingly longer, stretched in time and consciousness. Before the ceaseless, relentless, remorseless flow of moments swept that moment away into the wilderness of past with all the other moments. Only this moment would be preserved in amber rather than lost, buried under the flood of moments passed. Recorded. Preserved somehow. Seared onto the memory, as moments of embarrassment or elation often are. Like those few pivotal frames of the Zapruder film. She smiles and leans back on the doorframe... back and to the left, back and to the left...

His own awkwardness and embarrassment are clear and obvious enough. Lea, though... that smile, that pose... was that serious? Did she mean it? Was she being ironic... want me to pose for you too? Why not take a picture, it'll last longer? Was she mocking him? God knows he deserved a good mocking... shameful.... to be caught staring at her like that, like a dog at a piece of meat. Like those old cartoon characters... the wolf whose eyes shot out of his face with desire, steam literally venting from both ears. A full grown adult male with responsibilities, gawping like a teenage boy drowning in hormonal soup. Embarrassing. Even if she didn't mind... even if she wasn't mocking him... even if she liked him. it was still shameful. Exquisitely shameful.

It was done. It was past. He could try to apologise, but that would draw attention to it and make it a thousand times worse. No. All he could do was do better next time. Do better now, and.... was that her drawing attention to it? Cute gardener... alarming the neighbours... did that make it more likely that she'd been genuinely flirting with him, or had been ironically flirting with him, or just mocking him? Probably... probably... wow... probably genuinely flirting with him... maybe. He smiled in response, and tried his best to keep the colour from his cheeks.

None of which doesn't mean you don't need to do better. Much better. Do better than leaving her to take the tree down from the truck by herself while you wallow in your own inadequacies and humiliation. How about start with that? His only possible excuse other than distraction were his smart clothes and a desire not to get them grubby or muddy,. but it wasn't a great look.

Lea appeared to misread his silence as something else, and looked away. Tom felt a lurch in his stomach. He was getting this wrong. Again.
"No, that's... I don't know what to say, no-one's ever given me a tree before! And... yeah, there's space out back, I'm sure. I don't think I need a permit or anything. I'd be nice to have some apples to bring to Hannah to cook with! And no, Lea, you've not blown anything. It's a lovely thing to do... people don't usually... most people, I mean..." He stopped and started again, "You didn't have to. I only did what anyone would do, and I'm really glad I was there to find you. Though... you might not have been running there in the first place if I hadn't recommended it, so perhaps it's all on me, really. No... hang on... that would make it Hannah's fault. Let's blame Hannah."

She had been nervous. Shy. Vulnerable. Which probably meant..... DAMMIT stop trying to second guess, just be in the moment, be nice to her, and act like a gentleman. How hard can it be?

Tom paused for a moment. Suddenly, he grinned.
"Shall we plant it now? Do you have time? I'll need to get changed into something more... gardening-y." Congratulations on not saying 'something more comfortable'.
"Do you want to come in for a moment? I'll just go and get changed."

Tom went back inside to change, leaving his front door open. Although he'd bought the property, it was still spartan, lacking much of the 'lived in' touch. In the entrance hallway was a shoe rack with three or four pairs of running shoes, some hiking boots, and several pairs of smart black or brown leather shoes. A coat rack held a couple of blazers, a casual jacket, and a raincoat. The off-white walls were bare other than a couple of dated-looking prints, one of the Desiderata and one of the Prayer of St Francis.

He returned a few moments later wearing a plain, scruffy black t-shirt and some threadbare walking trousers.
"Do we just dig a hole for it, or is there more to it than that?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lea was ready to sink herself into the ground with each stammering, awkward fragment of words that Tom chattered towards her. But then at the end, he seemed to break the spell of embarrassment with one simple sentance.

"Let's blame Hannah."

The dark-haired woman burst into laughter, her grip relaxing on the tree trunk immediately and leaning against the truck bed instead. "Let's do it. When in doubt, pin the trouble on someone else. That always works out flawlessly." There was a hysterical note in her voice as she thought of the irony behind the words--blaming someone else was how she ended up in this situation, after all--but somehow that only made Lea laugh harder, sending a few locks of hair tumbling loose around her face and nearly knocking her sunglasses off her face.

"Anyway, yeah, I can help you plant it today. Might as well since the weather's still good, as long as you know where you want it. Do you have gardening stuff already?" Bending over the tailgate (fully realizing she was giving him a decent show of her ass in the process), Lea pulled out a grimy garden spade trimmed with rust and with a well-worn handle. "I've got this one handy if you don't have one of your own. There's some stakes and twine back there too. Basically, if you ever need to tie someone up and bury them in the woods, I'm your girl."

Another awkward pause, but at least this time Lea could cut it off with an excuse. "Damn that Hannah," she grumbled through a smile, then carefully lifting Fred up by his pot, she carried him through Tom's house towards the backyard.

Tom's house reminded Lea of that belonging to any single man she might have known in the past who didn't bother to hire a decorator. Clearly the doctor went all-in for minimalism, which made sense considering what his working hours must have been like. It was a shame he didn't have more art though; the light coming in from the windows would have been great to feature some real pieces, not just some framed printouts of text on the wall. Lea only gave these a passing glance at first, but when her eyes fell on the Prayer of St. Francis, a little wave of nostalgia washed over her.

"We had this one on our wall too, when I was growing up," she mused, unaware whether or not Tom was even still in the room with her. "My grandma embroidered the entire thing in Italian as a baptism gift for my brother Frankie--Francisco, that is. When he was about eight though he needed the room on his wall for more baseball posters, so my ma moved it into her sewing room. It's probably still there." And would she ever see it again? The Barsotti Mansion was on a cliff overlooking the ocean in one of the richest parts of Newport, not just behind its own broken-glass-topped concrete walls, but in a secured quarter of a gated neighborhood where guards carried Barsotti-funded pistols and looked the other way when certain people came in and never came out. That was probably what would happen if Lea ever went back.

Shaking her head a little, she found the door leading to the sunny backyard and set the pot down in a likely-looking spot before going back out to the truck to get her shovel. Naturally she waited for Tom to rejoin her and give further direction about where he wanted his new tree before digging, but once the spot was picked she wasted no time pushing the pointed metal tip down into the grass. "Just so you know, you're not going to get any fruit out of this little guy this year, and probably not next," Lea explained as she worked, sweat beginning to bead on her brow. Pausing to knot the bottom of her shirt up a little higher and get better ventilation to her midriff, she looked more critically at the tree, gingerly touching one of the leaves. "Year after that though...I think you'll start seeing some then. The flowers will come in spring regardless though, and they're gorgeous. Wish I could use those in bouquets. By the way, I mentioned I'm working at the flower shop on Main Street now, right?"

That launched an excited series of anecdotes about her new job that made the work of planting fly by, despite the heat of the afternoon. By her third story about Mrs. Linford terrorizing their wholesaler, Fred was standing straight and upright in the ground, casting a shadow on the ground hinting at the lateness of the hour while just being a little too small to shade them both.

"Man, I could use a drink after all that, how about you?" Lea asked Tom after she stood back and admired their handiwork. Wiping her hand across her brow, she glanced back towards the street a moment. "I would say we could maybe go grab an iced coffee or something, but I probably look like shit right now. Plus...people talk, you know? After that disastrous dinner we had with Hannah a few weeks ago, you probably don't need me around to make people raise weird questions."

There was a note of sadness in her words, but she tried to shake it off. "Anyway, if you've got any iced tea or lemonade or anything like that laying around, I'd kiss you for it," Lea teased, reaching up to tuck the stray hairs back into the knot on top of her head.

 

[MrAdam]

Tom helped Lea with the tree as best he could. He was impressed at her passion for horticulture, and how much she'd learned. He said as much, asking her how long she'd been working there, just in case he'd got the timings wrong. He listened to her talk about the flower shop and said how pleased he was that her employment situation had worked out well. There were reasons why Mrs Linford's assistants - family members aside - tended not to last very long, but Lea seemed to have passed her careful scrutiny and exacting standards.

Once the tree was in the ground, they both stood back to admire their handiwork. It was no small thing to plant a tree... to impose your will upon the landscape, and leave an impression that will outlast you. Looking at the tree, he wondered what changes it would see as it grew to maturity, and then over its long arboreal lifespan. Who would be living in this house? Who would be eating the fruit, enjoying the blossoms? For a moment, he imagined generations yet unborn admiring the tree, the memory of its planters lost in the passage of time.

Lea was thirsty. He was too.

"Lea..." said Tom, his tone serious, drawing himself up to his full height, standing straight, head tilted slightly to one side. "You do not look like sh...it right now."
He hesitated over the profanity, but the alternative was trying to rephrase what she'd said without either subtly changing her meaning or sounding like an implicit reprimand, or both.
"Quite the opposite... you may not be prom-ready, but you are absolutely rocking the 'cute gardener' look, which was what you said you were going for, right?"
He paused and smiled at her, letting that hang in the air for a moment.
"I've got some sodas in the fridge. - I'll bring them through. Sorry, I'm a terrible host. I'm blaming lack of practice. But...."

Do it. Ask. She likes you.... she almost certainly likes you. She's bought you a tree... it's... not a pretext, necessarily, but it needed planting, so you spend a bit more time together. She could just have bought some chocolates. Or a pot plant. Ask her. She wants you to ask her... she just asked you... kinda... but then, the 'I look awful and you don't need me around' stuff. You've heard that before from her... like she doesn't think she deserves attention or care or for good things to happen to her. Where's that coming from? Because she can also be confident and assertive and flirtatious, but then, the next minute she's backing down, retreating. Is it me? Is it the 'doctor' thing... a status thing... does she think I think I'm better than her? Is she scared of rejection? Isn't everyone scared of rejection?

Should I ask her out? Am I misreading all this... just because she's being nice to me, doesn't mean that she wants anything more. She's here because of 'boy problems' and... that first dinner did not go well. But... since then... maybe. It's okay to ask... it's still okay to ask. It's not like you're going to lunge at her, try to kiss her, make her uncomfortable. It's okay to ask, and if she says no, she says no. If you don't ask her, you'll regret it. I know you will. Just ask her. Even if she's not.... she probably won't mind, it's not as if... Just ask her. At least you'll know. And she probably wants you to ask her.

Do it. Ask. She likes you... she almost certainly likes you.

Here goes nothing.

"... and this is probably where I make a fool of myself... I would like to take you out for a drink, or dinner sometime. Just the two of us, no ambushes, and only if we both want to be there. And I certainly do. No pressure, I mean... I don't know if.... I'd just hate myself if I didn't at least ask, is all."

He smiled weakly.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lea winced a little as Tom awkwardly returned the profanity to her, not out of any sense of offense, but at how obviously uncomfortable it made her host. Jesus Christ, why can't you watch your language and just be a lady for once? her mother's voice scolded in the back of her mind. How are you ever gonna get a decent man if you don't act right?

She hated to admit it, but over the years Mary Barsotti's words of wisdom had been proven true. Growing up and speaking as roughly as her brothers, Lea had only ever managed to attract wannabe tough guys in gold chains and ugly suits, and she knew her time in prison had only made the habit worse. Now there really was a decent man standing in front of her, ready to offer her a soda or probably anything else to get rid of her.

Only...did Tom want to get rid of her? He had to. Right? Cracking open the soda with nails that were just beginning to grow back after a summer working the fields, Lea took a deep drink of the icy liquid, torn between a protective pessimism and a fluttering hope that was oh to tantalizingly near to her. As her mind began to cool, she had to acknowledge that bringing the doctor a fucking tree of all things had nothing to do with repayment. She could have offered him anything else in the world: sex, free labor, a goddamn payment plan, but what kind of a story would that make? Others had probably repaid his skills like that before, but here Tom was, still single in his cute little house in his peaceful town, watching a sweaty woman with dirty knees like she was the most interesting thing in the world.

He'd probably remember this story for years, and that made Lea smile. Tom would never forget her at least.

But now that she'd conquered that little corner of his memory, it only sparked a new ambition inside her. Maybe it was a long shot for a minimum-wage ex-con with no family and no real future ahead of her to try to make some thing real with a well-respected doctor, but damn it, Lea liked him, and she would have been willing to gamble her entire savings that he liked her too. That was how these things always started, right? So why not push things a little farther, just to see what happened? They couldn't send you back to jail just for getting dumped, after all.

The question was on the tip of her tongue as she finished the last of the soda, but before Lea could ask it her very own words stumbled out over Tom's uncertain lips.

"...I would like to take you out for a drink, or dinner sometime. Just the two of us..."

"Yes!" the woman cried out in a voice slightly too loud and almost certainly too eager. The empty can tumbled out of her hand and clattered onto the floor, evoking another half-whispered 'shit' before Lea's face turned an even darker red as she snatched it off the tiles. "I mean...sorry. About the can. I'm not sorry to have dinner with you. I-I would actually really like that. A lot."

Shutting her eyes a moment, she took a deep breath and tried to center herself. When she finally found the strength to open her eyes again, she did so with a smile. "When were you thinking?" Lea asked, slowly flicking at the pulltab on the can. "You know, it's Jake and Hannah's wedding anniversary next weekend. He's taking her up to the cabin for four days. If we want to make sure we don't get ambushed, that'd probably be the best time..."

Somehow, the rest of the details managed to work themselves out, and when Lea finally climbed back into the cab of her truck, it was with a sense of hope and excitement she hadn't felt in years. Singing along with the soundtrack to West Side Story, she took the long way through the country roads back home, dreaming of the days ahead.

***
​

Lea didn't say a word to Hannah about the upcoming date, and she assumed Tom hadn't either, otherwise she would have been subjected to way more interrogation over the following week. She was able to explain her growing makeup collection (drugstore brands, of course) by an increased need to look professional at work, and that new red dress hanging in the closet? An absolute steal at the thrift shop, only an idiot would let that go.

Satisfied at her cousin's explanation, Hannah and her husband had blissfully departed that morning, leaving Lea with a completely empty house as soon as she got done with work for the day. As soon as she came home the florist made a beeline for the shower, making sure her long hair was fresh and utterly flawless as she set about the task of making herself beautiful for the first time in...well, years, to be honest. She had plenty of time before Tom would be by to pick her up, and she didn't intend on wasting any of it. De Heem himself hadn't painted with more care than she used to apply her makeup, and while it was tricky to do anything really exciting with her hair and only one set of hands, she still managed to artfully pull it away so that it framed her face just right and fell luxuriously over her bare shoulders.

The dress she'd thrifted was certainly on the scandalous side--cutting low on her chest and barely covering her toned behind--but the addition of a sleek black blazer usually reserved for job interviews classed it up a fair amount, as did the antique silver cross necklace that rested lightly above her cleavage.

When the work was finished, Lea stared in awe in the mirror at the face of someone she hadn't seen since before prison. Sure, there were a few extra lines in it now, and her lips and cheeks weren't quite as plump as they had been when she was getting regular injections, but there was the same Newport beauty who had frequented all the best clubs and parties on the arms of men who struck fear into the hearts of everyone in the city.

It's not gonna be like that now she told herself as she went barefoot down the garage stairs and stepped out into the yard, her purse in one hand and a set of knockoff Louboutins in the other. It's just gonna be a nice time, me and him. No interruptions, no drama...just me, and him.

Slipping the shoes onto her feet, Lea settled into the porch swing of the empty main house waiting for any sign of Tom's SUV to come down the road.

 

[MrAdam]

Hannah would have to be told at some point... or at least she would if date night 2.0 went well. She'd probably be insufferably smug and pleased with herself for a while - possibly forever - but, Tom reminded himself, it came from a good place. She wanted to see both of them happy, and thought they might make each other happy. But telling her now would put far too much pressure on everything... and he only had to work with her. Lea had to live with her.

Tom had replayed the scene in his head many times in the days between Apple Tree Day and date-day... him asking her out, her eagerly accepting... getting all cutely flustered and dropping the can and then cursing and getting even more flustered... and even more cute. He'd also replayed carrying the stricken Lea in his arms from the top of the falls back to his car... at least up to the bit where Reverend Noah and his family had turned up, off on a wholesome, cleansing, thoroughly proper early morning hike.

The Reverend had - reluctantly - taken Tom to one side later that week to give him some words of spiritual advice. He was almost certain from some of the glances and whispers he was getting that a more or less accurate version of the story had spread. It was a conversation that neither of them particularly relished. It wouldn't normally have bothered Tom overmuch, but in this case he didn't think his actions were worthy of censure, and even before Apple Tree Day, he found he didn't care at all for unwarranted, negative judgements about Lea's character from those who didn't know the first thing about her. Tom had apologized for any embarrassment he may have caused, but doubled down on his explanation that he'd found her while out running, she'd hurt her ankle, what else was he supposed to do, and wasn't this the most logical explanation? Should the Good Samaritan have passed by like the Priest and the Levite because he didn't care for the way in which the injured traveler was dressed?

Noah had been willing to let the matter drop, having implied-rather-than-said his piece. Tom should have let it drop too... but didn't. He heard himself - quietly and calmly - ask the Reverend whether - in his opinion - it was more unchristian to do as he had done, or to spread uncharitable rumours and gossip about a member of their community. Noah took Tom to be talking about himself as the wounded party, and he had to clarify that he meant Lea. Who was a member of their community - he reminded him - she works in the nursery, she has family here - even if not a member of their church. Not approving of exercise attire worn during circumstances where there was a reasonable expectation of privacy was a reasonable point of view... more general inferences as to character were, Tom suggested, unfair, uncharitable, and unchristian. The Reverend, to his credit, took the implied criticism of his wife's conduct better than might be expected, and promised to think, reflect, and pray for God's guidance on what Tom had said.

"I believe everything you've told me, Tom" the Reverend Noah had said, "I accept that you met her in the woods, she was hurt, and you did the right thing by helping her. I... wouldn't have offered to carry her... but I couldn't have done anyway... and you're a doctor, so of course that makes a difference, and...." He trailed off for a few moments. "I don't know the... young lady, you're right. But my instinct is.... I just don't think she's part of God's plan for you."
He'd raised his hand to forestall any objection.
"If nothing has started, that's fine... that's good. Because I just don't think it would end well. She's not right for you."

Tom merely nodded in response, and promised - as Noah had done - to pray, to think and reflect on what he had said. He instinctively rebelled... he'd done nothing wrong, she'd done nothing wrong, and there was nothing going on. And he couldn't see why it would be so bad if anything had been. He barely knew her... knew enough to know that he liked her, but nowhere near enough to conclude that she was... well, whatever it was that not 'part of God's plan' meant. Unsuitable. One of those denim-shorts wearing temptresses.

He wondered whether this was at least as much about Phillipa - he'd felt subtly nudged in her direction on more than one occasion and had the impression that she was being nudged towards him. She was a quiet, meek, shy, kind, good hearted, devout Christian who would be an excellent wife for some lucky man one day - but not him. There was a time when he suspected he would have fallen hard for her - when he was younger, before he went to medical school in the city. That experience and those years had changed him in so many ways, and not always for the better. She was pretty in a very wholesome way, but Tom had never felt any chemistry between them. Phillipa was younger than he was, and he felt that gap all the more strongly because of the difference in life experience and in their respective horizons - she'd only ever lived in Brighton Falls and finished her education at community college getting qualifications to work in a kindergarten. A successful Christian marriage was a partnership of equals, but that did not imply identical contributions or roles. As a busy doctor, he would need a wife to raise the children, keep the house, and be active in the community - and his income would be more than sufficient to provide, whether or not she continued to work. For conversation, intellectual stimulation... well, that was what friends and work colleagues were for. He'd concluded that they had little in common other than their faith, but also she was the wrong side of the 'too young' cut-off point in his head. If even the idea of kissing her felt wrong, it could only be a poor idea. But this was a difficult argument to articulate.

But perhaps the Reverend's disapproval had nothing to do with her, or any scheming or matchmaking that had been going on... or that he'd imagined. Ultimately, the conversation with the Reverend had contradictory and paradoxical effects. On the one hand, the whole episode had fueled Tom's.... not rebellion, but certainly a respectfully dissenting view which he had expressed and which had been heard. And which he was confident he was right about. On the other hand, neither could he quite shift the worry that had been planted that she wasn't right for him... or that they wouldn't be right for each other. Not necessarily for the reasons that the Reverend believed... although preferred, there wasn't an expectation that everyone marry within the congregation or even the broader faith... it wasn't a cult, after all. But Tom already had a sense that they were from different worlds, and perhaps had different and incompatible dreams for the future. And although in his church they didn't regard the Priest with quite the same... reverence... as the Catholics did, the Reverend Noah was undoubtedly a man of God and a man of wisdom and insight. Tom respected him too much to be able to completely set aside or explain away everything the instinct that he obviously had, and had so strongly as to tell him. And probably none of it mattered anyway, since nothing had happened, and there wasn't any immediate prospect that anything would happen.

And then Apple Tree Day happened.

And now he was driving over to her place to pick her up with a smile on his face, butterflies in his tummy, and White Lies on the stereo. Maybe it was time to plan for an accident. He'd dressed smartly for the occasion. He scrubbed up nicely when he put his mind to it. Charcoal grey tweedy blazer, open collar crisp white shirt with slim maroon-red checking, midnight blue chinos; rich, deep brown dress shoes with neat demi-broguing patterns. His general look was either timeless and classic - if you were feeling generous - or somewhat old fashioned and unoriginal - if you weren't. He'd agonised about whether to wear a tie or not, but decided that it would be a bit too much... he wasn't there for a job interview.

He'd also agonised over which restaurant to suggest. On the one hand, somewhere nice. Somewhere with good food, good ambiance, and that would be a treat. On the other hand, somewhere where they would both - especially Lea - feel at ease and where the bill wouldn't be intimidating or ostentatious. He'd be paying, of course, but he wanted her to feel comfortable about that, not beholden to him or anything like that. He earned a good salary, but was always concerned - over-concerned, probably - with getting the balance right between generosity and modesty. Fortunately, there was a good little Italian place... Marconi's... that was a primarily an excellent pizzeria most of the time, supplementing it with a fine dining... or at least fine-er dining - menu on Friday and Saturday nights. While the atmosphere was generally relaxed and informal, there was also an understanding that the weekend menu provided an opportunity to dress up a little. Or more than a little.

Tom arrived a fashionable five minutes after he said he would, and saw Lea waiting for him on the porch swing. He waved, parked his SUV, got out and went to say hello - it didn't seem right just to open the passenger door for her. He strode over, a warm, friendly smile on his face and some equally warm and friendly words of greeting and of compliments on her dress and all the kinds of warm and friendly things that a warm and friendly guy should say before a date. Only....

Wow. Um.... Lea looked.... wow. She looked amazing. There was a lot to be said for the hot gardener look. There was a lot to be said for the hot runner look. But the hot date look. Wow. Um....

Don't stare. Staring is rude. But don't not look either. That's rude. Rude and weird. You don't want her to think you're rude or weird, or rude and weird. So look at her just the right amount. And how much is that, exactly?
I don't know, try acting normal?
You ever tried acting normal?
Fair point.
This isn't helping.
No.
Say something.
Like what?
Anything... anything that's not rude or weird.
How long as this silence lasted for?
Feels like ages, probably a second or so. Say something.
Are we blushing?
Probably, but not as much as it feels like we are.
I hope you're... I'm right.

"Uh... Lea, " he said, looking away, rubbing his face vigorously with the palms of his hands for a moment before continuing. "Listen, I'm sorry... I'm just going to come out and say it. You look amazing... so amazing that I fear that I've temporarily misplaced much of my capacity for rational thought and sensible conversation. I fear I am making an utter fool of myself, and may continue to do so."

He smiled. She looked amazing. But with a bit of luck, he could learn to live with it. The truth will set you free.
"But bear with me and with any luck something like normal service will be resumed by the time we reach the dessert course."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

As the appointed time came and went, the porch swing began to move back and forth a little faster. Like a reflex Lea checked the time on her phone. One minute late, nothing to panic about she tried to reassure herself. You know how these country folk are, always taking things slow...

Yeah, she'd heard that excuse before. Whenever Antonio would keep her waiting up at home, or sitting at a bar by herself, or trapped in endless boring conversation with one of his meathead friends. Just fifteen more minutes babe, promise. Meanwhile he'd probably be pounding some floozy's ass in the back room of one of Big Bill's shady business fronts, or else getting up to trouble with Bobby or Joey or one of those guys.

But Lea put up with it. Not so much for Antonio's chiseled jaw or flawlessly sculpted arms, or even for the shoes and jewelry that always appeared on her body whenever he knew he'd pissed her off and wanted to make peace. No, it was because Antonio was Bobby's best friend, almost like another son to the Barsotti family. So she'd eaten the infidelities with a grin, played dumb to the cops who asked questions about where he'd been, always insisting Antonio was the perfect boyfriend who was always at her side, there was definitely no chance he'd been at the docks last night, Officer, he was with me the whole time.

Until he wasn't.

The sound of a car door slamming made Lea jerk her head up, and in the light of the late summer evening she could have almost sworn that was Antonio striding towards her, grinning sheepishly with blood on his hands and a bullet hole in the side of his head. Get your head in the game you dumb broad the woman scolded herself, realizing of course it wasn't Antonio, it couldn't be Antonio, and she didn't want it to be Antonio. The idea she could have mistaken Tom for her ex was utterly laughable the more she thought about it, and while she was able to keep control of her giggles there was no hiding the grin on her face as she stepped off the porch to meet him.

"Hey there," she greeted in what she hoped was a seductive tone, looking him up and down. "You clean up nice, Tom." And sweet mother Mary, wasn't that the truth? Now that the panic and anxiety were clearing from Lea's mind, she could see the strong resemblance between Tom and the leading man of any of the old Hollywood movies she and Hannah adored. There was something Fred Astaire-ish in the grace of his lean body, and whether he'd made the conscious decision or not, she was definitely getting a Gregory Peck vibe from the outfit. And with all the charm of Cary Grant--

"Listen, I'm sorry... I'm just going to come out and say it. You look amazing... so amazing that I fear that I've temporarily misplaced much of my capacity for rational thought and sensible conversation. I fear I am making an utter fool of myself, and may continue to do so."

--All right, maybe Jimmy Stewart more than Cary Grant. Either way, just by standing in front of her Tom was already proving himself to be everything that Antonio wasn't, and Lea would have been ready to kiss him for that alone. But first she would need a little liquid courage.

"You're sweet," was all she managed, although she was brave enough to take one of his hands between hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. She didn't let the touch linger though, instead moving around to the passenger's side of the SUV. Once they were backed out of the driveway, Lea looked over towards Tom again with an expression of curious excitement. "Soooooo, where are we going?"

The name "Marconi's" made her visibly wince a little. It was in Williamsford, the next town over from Brighton Falls, not far at all and a very pretty drive through the hills if truth be told. Lea was somewhat acquainted with the neighborhing hamlet since it was home to the Catholic church she and Hannah attended a couple times a month (usually when they wanted an excuse to get brunch afterward). She'd passed by the restaurant a few times but never gone in. It reminded her too much of the several "Barsotti's" scattered throughout Newport, which served both as passive income for the family as well as fortified meeting places for the men to discuss business. Lea supposed people who didn't know any better might find the dim lighting romantic, and the food was usually great if a little heavy for her taste. But she also knew a lot of the people who went missing in the city were often last seen in restaurants like Barsotti's.

Turning to look out the window, Lea took a few deep breaths. It's just a restaurant, you need to relax. The DA wouldn't have shipped her off to any other kind of hotbed of mafia activity after all she'd been through. And even if they had, if any of the local families knew who she was, surely they would have approached her by now, either to see what she knew or warn her to get lost. Sometimes a restaurant is just a restaurant.

And that certainly seemed to be the case when Tom parked in front of the low brick building with the tile roof. The place was definitely crowded, but that lent a certain cheeriness to the building as they approached. Without totally knowing why, Lea gently took hold of the doctor's arm and let him lead her to the hostess' stand, where an energetic redhead greeted the pair and asked if they preferred indoor or outdoor seating.

"Outdoor please!" Lea piped up before Tom could speak. She blushed a little as the hostess led them out to a patio lit by strings of edison bulbs, glancing back at her date's direction. "Sorry for butting in there, but it's...just so nice out. Seems a shame to spend it inside, right?" Definitely didn't have anything to do with the limited points of egress in the building, nope.

Once they were seated at a metal table pleasantly on the edge of the brickwork, the woman seemed to relax visibly, especially once she spied the wine list. "What do you think, should we split a bottle?" Lea asked with a smile as she began to peruse the neatly-printed pages. "Ooh, they have an aglianico! Great if you're thinking of having lamb..." She paused, suddenly turning a bit red. "Jesus, listen to me. I sound like a pretentious idiot, don't I? Let me start over."

Setting the wine list flat on the table, the woman leaned forward and propped her chin up with her folded hands. Batting her eyelashes and waggling her eyebrows in exaggerated flirtation, she simpered out, "So, Dr. Tom, come here often?" The expression on her fast lasted a full three seconds before she broke out in laughter, hoping he hadn't taken her too seriously.

 

[MrAdam]

Tom thought that Lea seemed nervous.... she seemed to have a kind of nervous, edgy, almost manic energy about her that led her to overcompensate for her nerves. It was adorable. Tom was torn between wanting to help her settle her nerves - and his, for that matter - and enjoying the fact that he was still able to have this kind of effect on such a beautiful woman. Though... perhaps she'd have been equally nervous sitting opposite anyone. Boy trouble, remember? No, actually... I was trying not to think about that.

Tom was happy enough to go along with her preference to sit outside. It was pretty out here. The proprietors had put in a fair amount of work and imagination in bringing about the transformation from pizzeria to restaurant, and their efforts outside were more impressive than the inside efforts. There was something magical about al fresco dining, and the bulbs gave it an otherworldly, sparkly, glimmery atmosphere.

He grinned at her flirtatious parody of flirtatiousness, which was devastatingly effective. Lea looked amazing in that dress, but she also seemed warm and witty and funny, and obviously didn't take herself - or him - too seriously. He liked that a lot about her. As a doctor he was often treated with a great deal of deference and respect because of his status and his importance to the community. His medical qualification elevated him in some people's eyes, to a level above and beyond ordinary folks. He knew he was prone to the sins of vanity and of pride and had to work hard to stay humble, because he knew he enjoyed that respect. Hadn't that been one of the things that drew him to a career in general practice? But he also found he enjoyed the company of people who didn't take him too seriously or treat him with undeserved awe. Who might call him 'Doctor Tom', but only ironically. Which saved having to play up to unrealistic expectations.

"Only with people I'm trying to impress" he answered, with a self-effacing smile, "so.... no, not that often. Sometimes when relatives visit, or the occasional senior management informal gathering. Someone somewhere has some connection to this place... I can't remember who or how, but they were keen for everyone to try to support their special menu nights when they first stared experimenting with them, and it kinda became a bit of a thing. We also liked that it was outside our immediate patient catchment area."

"I'm sure it doesn't compare to the bright lights of the restaurant district of downtown Newport, but... yeah, we have aglianico here too. From time to time. Special occasions."
Tom realised as he was speaking that he'd just assumed that Lea had frequented expensive restaurants, and that before moving here she'd led a larger, more glamorous life. Or at least one more glamorous than living with a relative and working in a flower ship. He wasn't sure how he'd arrived at this conclusion. He knew better than to think that city streets were paved with gold and aglianico flowed like water - there was at least as much poverty and suffering quiet desperation in the cities as in the countryside. He'd seen it at Medical School and in his early placements.

But something about her manner... the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, had given him that impression. Or he'd decided that he was going to imagine her as this impossibly glamorous urban sophisticate who was only here slumming it for a bit, and that he shouldn't get any ideas. She'd find Brighton Falls dull and parochial, and was only here temporarily because she had to be here, for whatever 'boy trouble' reason that was. He might, he realised, be wrong about all this, and he shouldn't assume.

"What about you, Lea?" he asked, "I mean... how are you finding Brighton Falls?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Oh, so you're trying to impress me, huh?" Lea teased as she raised her water glass. Pausing long enough to let a sliver of ice melt against her lips, she brushed a strand of hair behind her shoulder before resting her chin lightly on her hand. "You make it look so effortless. Almost as easy as say, carrying some dumb broad with a twisted ankle down a mountain. Or was that just to impress me too?" Giggling, she held up one perfectly manicured finger. "Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know. I don't get much romance in my life, so just let me hold on to that one. It'll make a great story when I'm an old lady."

She let her laughter fade into a contented sigh, then focused her gaze on Tom more intently. Was it her imagination, or did the doctor seem more relaxed sitting across from her? His tone was so much more even as he spoke about his colleagues and the community, and even those little hints of self-deprecation seemed more humorous than embarrassed now. Listening to him speak, it was almost like sitting with a friend.

God, how long had it been since Lea had had a platonic relationship with a man who wasn't related to her? There were a couple of boys in high school and college she could recall, classmates who'd been more interested in her shoes and clothes than the body underneath, but even these were usually scared away once they met her brothers and the rest of the assholes those idiots ran with. Her mouth quirked in a grim smile as Lea tried to picture what Tom would make of Bobby, Joe, or Frank; any of whom would probably cut the doctor's fucking throat for daring to sit across a table from her without so much as a word to the rest of the family.

But the boys were hundreds of miles away now, and she hadn't seen any of them since she'd been incarcerated. She was of no use to them now, so why should they give a fuck about who she made friends with?

Not that she wanted to be 'friends' with Tom, exactly.

He has such great hands Lea thought absentmindedly as he spoke, letting her gaze drift downward to study fingers that were somehow both graceful and sure; the hands of a healer and a gardener all at once. His mouth was appealing too, and not for the first time she noticed that despite the nervous edges in his words there was eloquence underlying his voice. Unbidden, she suddenly wondered what it would sound like if he whispered her name in the throes of passion, and if she could feel those lips on her--

"Oh! Brighton Falls!" she answered just a little too loud when she realized he'd asked the question, fresh color blooming on her cheeks in the process. "It's um...it's great." Ugh, that was sincere all right. Taking another drink of water, Lea tried to calm herself as she folded her hands in her lap. "Really, I do like it. A lot more than I ever thought I would. It took a while to get used to all the quiet, but it's safe at least, and the people seem...I don't know, more real, I guess. Like you, Tom."

There was no flirtation in her face as she smiled at him now (well, very little at least). "I really do appreciate what you did for me, and I'm pretty sure you did it just because you're a good person. Unless it was all just an elaborate ploy to get a free tree out of me, in which case, well played," she added with wink. "But that's what I mean by 'real.' You don't get much of that in Newport, or in any big city as far as I can tell. People just care about whatever they can get out of you, even if it leaves you with absolutely nothing in the end."

She was aware of the note of bitterness that had crept into her voice at the end of her speech, and Lea was quick to swallow it before Tom could pursue the idea further. "But what about you, Tom? Did you always want to end up in a place like Brighton Falls? Small town life does seem to suit you pretty well..."

 

[MrAdam]

Tom had been about to modestly play down the idea that he might be a particularly good person, while feeling secretly flattered. There was his pride again, his vanity. Always there. Part of him. Part of everyone, a particularly wise Rabbi had once told him. Tom had got chatting to him during a quiet moment during a night shift during one of his many placements. Apparently he was one of the multi-faith chaplains, but the only one ever seen during night shifts. Tom had been initially wary of the man, but as the Rabbi had said with a twinkle in his eye, they believed in the same God and differed only over detail. And Tom had never thought that his own faith had a monopoly on wisdom. Pride could be a virtue as well as a vice, he had said... an example of Aristotle's Golden Mean - too much pride was a vice, as was too little. Setting too much store on the good opinions of others was a vice, but setting too little value on the collective wisdom of one's community... well, it should at least be a warning sign. Let Pride and Vanity drive you to do and be better, but not for their own sake. Accept that you are human and have human emotions, but understand them, and understand your motivations.

He had then been about to gently... and stupidly... disagree with her pessimistic view of city life, and pessimism about humanity in general. People were good, people were decent. If people were treated well, they would respond in kind. There were... undoubtedly... some people who were, for whatever reason, just broken. But give people safety, given them security, give them purpose, give them a stake in their community, and they would behave accordingly. Tom felt that Lea had perhaps sensed what he had been about to say and changed the subject, asking him a question. He belatedly realised that Lea was almost certainly talking about specific 'people' - or a 'person'.... boy trouble, remember... rather than a general philosophical point about human nature. He gratefully took the opportunity to veer away from his potential error.

"No" he said, smiling, "I couldn't wait to get away from my own small town and I couldn't imagine ever going back to one, except for a visit. I wanted the big city and the bright lights and the excitement and all the things to see and do and... well, the anonymity, the chance to be anyone I wanted to be. Because no-one knew my folks, or knew me or who I'd been or who I was... I could be anyone!"

"The world" he said, pausing to nibble on a breadstick, "was my oyster. Only...."
He paused to swallow.

"Only... the problem with the big city is that by the time you've paid your rent, you've not much left to pay for all the things to see and do. The anonymity... got.... well, it got kinda old kinda quick. And although I could be anyone.... who I turned out to be was, well... it was me. Still me. Disappointing, huh? Thought maybe I'd discover some long dormant musical talent and join a band and make it big and go touring. Or, sign up for some international development project and go to Africa or South America or somewhere. Or... I don't know... become a researcher and find a cure for cancer or stupidity or something. Medical School was amazing... an amazing, transformative experience... but afterwards, once that structure had gone, and some of my friends had started to move away, well.... I don't know. " He waved a hand vaguely.

He did know. And by 'some of my friends', he meant 'some of my friends, but mainly my girlfriend'. But he chose not to say so.

"I always felt like I was only there temporarily.. like a tourist. It never felt like home to me, and I slowly started to realise that it never would. Then I started looking around for options... fortunately for me there's no shortage of small towns looking for doctors. I couldn't - wouldn't - go back home, my folks are doctors too and they still practise there. No-one there would take me seriously, I don't think, even after some time away. So... yeah, but for a false start or two, I ended up here. I think.... I mean, I don't generally have much truck with evolutionary psychology or spurious claims about what we are or aren't 'evolved' to do or be, but for most of our history we've lived in smaller groups. Tribes, hamlets, villages, towns, whatever. And I think that works for a lot of people. It works for me. And I think that maybe.... if there is a plan for me.... if there's something I'm supposed to do..... this might very well be it."

"I'd never say never" he continued, "I'd never rule out moving again, moving to a city, but it's hard to imagine right now. I feel like I'm settling in now, you know? Things have started to change.... I mean... like you say, people here are very genuine, very open, very welcoming.... albeit sometimes obtrusively curious and prone to.... ah... meddling in your business without asking. But I've felt it's started to shift from hospitality to a visitor to acceptance as part of the community. Course, for some you'll never truly belong unless your grandpappy farmed the same land, but that's not a majority view."

She's not staying. She's only passing through. This town ain't big enough for her, and she's probably amused that it's enough for you. You're a curiosity... a distraction.... a safe option. At best, you're the holiday romance. Which is fine for her, but not for you.
No, I think she genuinely likes me.
Yeah, she probably does. So what? What difference does that make?
Quite a lot.
Really? You think she's gonna settle here? Settle for here? Settle for you?
I don't know. Maybe? Probably not? I don't think she's....
You don't think she's what?
I don't know. I don't think she's the hot shot city slicker you seem to think she is.
How do you mean?
Are you thinking about Kim? She's not Kim. You don't need to protect us from Kim.
No, I know. I honestly don't know if I'm thinking about Kim.
I don't know either. So how about we just enjoy having a hot date, eh? Try not to second guess everything. Enjoy it for what it is.
Sounds good. Done.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lea nodded slowly as Tom spoke. He was right about so many things: the liveliness and energy of the city, how it felt to be utterly swallowed by a parent's shadow, even the manic possibilities that always seemed to pile up in front of you when no one really knew who you were.

She'd tried to focus on that last bit in particular since getting out of prison. Her P.O., a grandmotherly sort of woman with kind eyes who would nevertheless put her clients in a headlock and taze the everloving shit out of them if the situation required it, had encourage Lea to move forward with the idea of forging her own identity. She could be whoever she wanted: not a thief, nor a failed athlete, nor a gold-digging party girl. But that begged the impossible question: what did she want?

At least Tom had his career to help point him in the right direction. And if that wasn't enough to at least get him a foothold in any community he wanted, no doubt his looks would have gotten him the rest of the way. "Guys like you can fit in anywhere," Lea remarked as she sipped her water. "And not just because of the doctor thing. You're a real sweet guy, Tom. I mean that." Her voice was low and steady as she spoke, but her eyes held a luminous storm of emotions as they lingered on his face. "Everyone in Brighton Falls seems to think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I bet there's at least a dozen women who'd kill to be sitting here at this table across from you right now."

She chuckled and pushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder. "I'm guessing it was probably the same in the city too, it was just harder to notice. My mama always said it was hard to find a diamond on a street covered with broken glass, and you're definitely right that people in the cities don't get as involved in your business as country folks. I'd be willing to be a hundred dollars though there's at least some nurse or doctor in a Newport hospital though still pining over what might have been with the handsome Dr. Meyer. But que sera sera," Lea finished with a shrug as the waitress returned to take their wine order.

Once she'd departed, the dark-haired woman let out a wistful sigh. "You know what I think I miss most about Newport? The art museum. God, their impressionist collection was to die for. I interned there in college, and for like a year they had Apricot Trees in Blossom on loan. I would just sit in front of that painting for hours, sometimes to the point I could have sworn I actually smelled the flowers and felt the breeze on my face. You could never experience flowers and breezes like that in Newport itself, but there were dozens of paintings in the museum that could trick me into thinking I really did feel them."

Her gaze had gone vacant for a moment, and when she recalled herself it was with fresh color on her cheeks and a sheepish smile on her lips. "And it's funny; now that I really am among orchards and wheat fields and things like that, it just makes me want to sit in front of those paintings all the more. The reality of the countryside is still lovely, but I guess over the years I got so good at imagining things that now it's impossible for the real world to surpass the ideas in my head. Stupid, isn't it?" Lea finished, unclear on whether she was referring to the concept or herself.

Before Tom could either agree or argue the statement, she quickly got to her feet. "On that note, I'm going to run to the powder room really quick. If the waitress comes back with the wine, don't wait for me, just open it!" Turning smoothly on her heels, Lea made a beeline for the restrooms, praying Tom wouldn't change his mind about this entire date and make a break for the car in the meantime.

There was only one other woman standing in front of the mirrors, casually adjusting her hair and applying a fresh coat of cherry-red lipstick. After splashing a little cold water on her face and counting to ten (both tactics her prison therapist had suggested in times of stress) Lea was just checking over her own reflection when she caught the other woman's eye on the mirror.

"That's a great jacket," the other woman remarked as she deposited her lipstick back into her purse. She was about Lea's height, slightly thinner, but paler and more piqued-looking as well. Her dark brown hair was swept into an elegant updo, and something about her jade green eyes was hauntingly familiar. The woman narrowed them a little as she looked Lea up and down, clearly noting some half-remembered shadows herself. "Sorry, but have we met before?"

Lea's throat tightened. Her face would probably still be known to anyone in Newport society; or hell, anyone who read the papers seven years ago when her mugshot was plastered underneath the headline "INTERPOL Thwarts Heist Backed by Organized Crime." If the woman was a true-crime junkie who preferred art crime to murder, no doubt she would know about the convicted felon.

But the conversation went another direction. "Did you ever do gymnastics?" the woman continued, tilting her head a little. "I used to compete on the national level myself. I'm Bella Hewson," she introduced, holding out her hand.

Immediately Lea's face lit up. "Oh Bella, of course! It's Lea, Lea Barsotti," she replied without thinking. "Gosh it's been what, ten, twelve years?"

"Oh, I don't think it was quite that long." Was it just Lea's imagination, or had Bella's tone suddenly gone icy, and her handshake limp? The other gymnast withdrew her hand before the dark-haired woman could be totally sure. "What in the world are you doing in this little corner of the world? I could have sworn there was nothing here but corn and cow pats."

"Well uh...I have a cousin, down in Brighton Falls," Lea stammered, not missing the condescension in Bella's voice but uncertain of how to counter it with such little preparation. "I'm staying with her for the meantime. How about you? Don't tell me you're still competing at your age." Ah, that would hurt at least a little. If she remembered correctly, Bella was two or three years older than her.

"Oh no. My husband and I were just toying with the idea of purchasing a vineyard a few counties over. It's a quaint little place, family-owned and all that, but a bit small for our tastes. We're so accustomed to the way things are run out in Napa, I'm afraid it simply wouldn't do. But if you and your, ah, cousin ever decide to get into the business, it would be a great little starter for a couple of amateurs."

Leaning forward, Bella gave Lea an air kiss on each cheek. "I'm afraid I must go check on my husband darling, he does worry so. But I'll be sure to give my regards to Newport for you! And if you're ever in town again, you simply must look us up for old times' sake. I'm sure your dear brothers could spare you a few hours on your next visit..."

And in a cloud of expensive perfume, she was gone.

The entire exchange couldn't have taken longer than five minutes or so, but when Lea emerged from the bathroom she felt as though ten years had passed. By the time she got to the table the wine still hadn't arrived, but thankfully Tom hadn't quite decided to flee back to Brighton Falls just yet.

"Sorry about that," she apologized just as the waitress finally appeared with the wine. After opening the bottle and pouring for both, Lea raised her glass in Tom's direction. "I suppose we should probably have a toast, hm? I can't decide to what though. Should it be, 'to small towns, where people don't mind their own business'?" She couldn't help but glance towards the parking lot as she said this, noting the figure of Bella getting into the passenger's seat of a Mercedes. "Or should it be, 'to dumb girls who don't look for roots when trail running'?"

That brought a new smile to her face. Don't think about Bella, or Newport, or any of that other shit Lea told herself. Just think about Tom. Only him.

 

[MrAdam]

You're a real sweet guy, Tom. I mean that.... I bet there's at least a dozen women who'd kill to be sitting here at this table across from you right now.

This was code, and it was a code he thought he'd heard before. 'Sweet guy' means: I'd trust you to walk me home even if I've had one drink too many, but you have the sex appeal of a toy panda. And the 'at least a dozen women' means:.... I'm not among them. This was the 'letting him down gently' routine, and he'd heard it before. The trouble with you, Kim had told him at Medical School, the trouble with you, Tom, is that you're a Pop Tart. You're Hot but Square. That, of course, was before she knocked the corners off him. He'd been too serious, too clean-living, too Christian.

But that was the old code, and he wasn't sure it was still valid. He couldn't just assume that was what Lea meant. Not least because her eyes seemed to be signifying an entirely different message. No. And also because... because, well.... because she wasn't wrong. He was probably a more attractive proposition now than he'd ever been. His vocation, his position in the community, that respect, that cache... but also.... spiritually, he'd always been in his 30s even as a much younger man. Now that his chronological age had caught up, he found he was much more assured, more confident, more comfortable in his own skin, more sure of who he was and what he stood for.

'Sweet' was an interesting choice of words, and one which implied a contrast. With what? Sour? Boy troubles, he remembered.

Tom brushed off the compliments as gracefully as he could, being flattered, demurring with her analysis, but being not-so-secretly pleased.

I'd be willing to be a hundred dollars though there's at least some nurse or doctor in a Newport hospital though still pining over what might have been with the handsome Dr. Meyer.

He wondered for a moment whether Kim thought about him much, and if she did, what she thought about him. She certainly wouldn't be pining for him, that was for sure. Kim had been an absolute force of nature.... probably still was... who had blown through his life and off again. She was beautiful... part Vietnamese-American, part melting-pot-American, and stunning in that way that only people of mixed heritage can be. Funny too. Confident, outgoing, magnetic charisma, assertive. She decided - Pop Tart or not - that she wanted him. And so she got him. Tom was smart, but he was a plodder by comparison... his super power was hard work, perspiration, not inspiration. Classic Protestant work ethic. Kim, though.... effortlessly brilliant, amazing mind.... probably a genius. Spoke four languages, learning a fifth for fun. Played piano. And soccer. Always going to be a super surgeon or hotshot specialist, or - what ultimately happened - going into research and moving to the other side of the country for a Fellowship. Without him. Just like that. Que sera indeed.

Marco had taken him out and got him blind drunk. Tom remembered being in a club somewhere with Marco and some other friends belting out the strangely apt refrain at the end of some indie song.... Spector's Twenty Nothing, he found out later. One, you started coming over. Two, you started sleeping over. Three, you started taking over. Four, you told me it was over.

She was good for you, and then she wasn't, was Marco's verdict. You guys were never on the same path, and when your paths diverged, she took you along hers until she didn't want you no more. There had been a fundamental misunderstanding... Kim had had high school boyfriends, the last of which was left behind when she moved to Medical School, and a medical school boyfriends, the last of which was to be left behind when she moved to a research post. Clean breaks, travel light. Likely the pattern would repeat at least once more. Tom had thought.... well, he'd thought... in spite of plenty of evidence to the contrary... that they were on a path towards something permanent. With the benefit of distance, he could see that he had misled himself more than she had ever misled him.

That relationship... that time... Tom knew that he - they - had sinned. Living as if they were man and wife, when they were not man and wife. He ought to repent. There was no forgiveness without repentance, and without regret there was no repentance. But his only regret was that he didn't, in fact, regret any of it. It had been a crazy time. She had dragged him into her whirlwind and it had spat him out. Once the dizziness faded, he knew it was for the best. He only wished he regretted it. But he had learnt a lot... about what he wanted, what he didn't want. Ways to try to reconcile ancient codes of morality and behaviour with living in the modern world.

She's not Kim.
And yet....
No. No. Stop over-thinking.

Tom smiled at her when she returned from powdering her nose, and laughed at her suggested toasts, especially the one about 'dumb girls not looking for roots'. If it wasn't for the swelling, he answered, he'd suspect she faked the whole thing to get his attention. His own suggestion for a toast was:
"Interfering co-workers-slash-cousins whose judgement might just be better than we'd like to admit"

Tom decided to try to steer clear of asking potentially uncomfortable questions about her life before coming to Brighton Falls. He worried that it might come across as a lack of interest in her and, worse, a preference for talking about himself. But it felt too risky... the wrong question could make things awkward, could force her to choose between an answer she did not want to give or an evasion or half truth which they'd both know wasn't the whole story. She would tell him what she wanted, when she wanted, if she wanted. He hoped she wouldn't take his attempt at discretion as a lack of interest. To compensate, he asked her about work, how her new job was going. He asked her about her ankle, and whether she'd tried to run on it again.

And he asked her about art. Art was a bit of a blind spot for him. He didn't know what impressionism was.... he'd thought all painting was an impression, but obviously there was more to it than that. His education had focused on the sciences, though he'd taken classes in sociology and psychology too. He'd always been a keen reader, enjoying losing himself in a world where he didn't have exams and tests to worry about. But art and art history was not high on anyone's lists of interests where he grew up - people liked what they liked, and that was mostly it. Other than for hanging on walls to make homes look pretty, the main interest in art was through a religious prism, and a lot of the old religious art was regarded by many as suspiciously Catholic. Modern art was regarded as somewhere between decadent and blasphemous. The Medical School had had some prints of some old pictures of anatomy lessons and that sort of thing, but he'd not paid them much attention.

He'd always quite liked Hopper's Nighthawks, though he'd only be able to describe it as "the one with the folks in a diner." He worried it was a cliche. Then there was the soup-cans-and-Marilyn-Monroe guy, who just painted big comics, which he thought was kind of a brilliant idea. He told her how he'd always struggled to pick out pictures for his walls... even posters for his college room... he worried that he'd pick something that was cliche or stupid, or gave people the wrong impression about him. He told her about the time he'd bought a poster print of Salvador Dali's Jesus Painting, only to take it down again after ten minutes after discovering that it utterly dominated his small room. He also worried that he'd buy something that he liked now, but wouldn't necessarily like next week, or next month. And there was so much to choose from.

But while Tom was ignorant, he wasn't dismissive. He was open about his lack of knowledge, seeing it as a vice rather than a virtue, and happy to learn if Lea was happy to talk about it. If he couldn't ask too much about her, he could try to ask about one of the few things he knew she liked.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Hopper, huh? Does that mean you're a Realist?" Lea asked with a swirl of her wine glass. "For some reason I would have guessed you were a Classical or Neo-Classical guy. You know, since doctors are probably used to seeing nude figures." A wicked grin crossed her face. "Then again, I guess you could argue that Girlie Show is a decent blend of both. And don't you dare pull that up on your phone!" Her hand reached out to snatch at his wrist, quick as a striking snake. The woman's dark eyes glittered mischievously as her tongue grazed her lower lip. "This is a nice place, after all."

God, she should have ordered a heavier entrée. The wine was starting to overpower the caprese and go straight to her head. But fuck, Tom was getting more gorgeous with every passing moment. Maybe he was just making polite conversation, but he was really giving the distinct impression that he cared about what she thought. Not only that, but he was interested in her job, her health. All things any doctor would naturally ask of their patient of course, but how many doctors took their patients out to nice dinners like this? Not many, although there were probably a lot of ex-doctors that might have done something like this.

"Hey, Tom? Let me ask you something." Her fork made a soft but dissonant screech as it dragged through the remnants of balsamic on her plate. "Is it like, okay that we're doing this? I know I was never technically your patient on paper or anything, but you're not going to get in trouble for having dinner with me, right? I'm not really sure how all that ethical stuff works."

Hence the seven years in prison.

Really though, even if there was something taboo about Tom going on a date with an unofficial patient, that was a laughable sin compared to some of the other guys she'd sat across from in places like this. Hell, the idea even added a little something to the doctor's appeal; a single keen edge to the otherwise kind and gentle man that crueler women might have found themselves bored with after a while. Lea liked to think she wasn't a woman like that, that her time upstate had taught her humility and instilled some greater desire for comfort and moral support from a man, rather than just what he could give her materially and sexually. But then again, she wasn't here with Quasimodo, was she?

The rest of the meal passed comfortably and quickly as the conversation shifted from one subject to another, although before they knew it the couple somehow found themselves the last table on the patio with a rather annoyed-looking busser staring daggers at them from the doorway. "We'd better go before they throw us out," she giggled after the check had been paid, wobbling just a bit as she rose up from the table. They managed to make it back to Tom's SUV without incident, but as soon as she sank into the passenger's seat she slipped off her heels and began to turn them thoughtfully in her hands as she stared out the window.

Before long the lights of Williamsford had faded away behind them, but a full moon and countless stars overhead were more than enough to light the way. Letting out a contented sigh as she listened to Tom's music playing softly, Lea might have been tempted to fall asleep right then and there when a quick flash in the sky made her sit up straight.

"Oh shit! Was that a shooting star?" she gasped as she leaned forward to peer through the windshield. As if in answer, a second streak of white streamed across the sky, eliciting a childlike squeal of glee from the woman. "There's another one! One for each of us! Quick Tom, make a wish!" Lea cried with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. Sitting back in her seat, her own unspoken wish was the same she'd made when he'd first pulled into the driveway that evening, and when he pulled up in front of the farmhouse again, the wine and the star seemed to reassure her that it would come true.

Lea stepped barefoot out of the vehicle, still clutching her shoes in one hand as she stepped lightly over the gravel driveway and onto the soft grass in front of the house. Turning back to face the doctor, she inclined her head towards the front door. "Want to come in for a drink? You don't have patients tomorrow, right?" Pausing, she turned to look up at the sky again, wondering how in the world it was possible to fit that many stars in the sky.

"On second thought, maybe you want to just stay out here for a drink? It's such a gorgeous night, and not even cold. God, I could just stare up at that sky for hours..."

 

[MrAdam]

Tom's brow furrowed in response to her question about medical ethics.
"If you're an undercover agent sent by the American Medical Association" he said, slowly, mock-serious, "and you're about to bust me for an ethics violation, then all I have to say is... I never stood a chance."

"More seriously" he said, taking a sip of the mineral water he'd been drinking after his first glass of wine, "it's what medical ethicists like to call a 'gray area'. By the absolute strictest interpretation, I probably shouldn't have asked you out. Or not so soon, anyway. But the advice I was always given was not to be an absolutist... rules won't always give us the right answer, because rules weren't designed to cover an infinite number of situations. There's 'right', there's 'wrong', there's 'it's probably fine', there's 'it probably isn't'. Don't tell my pastor, though... he'll think I've gone all moral relativist. Which I absolutely haven't."

"The doctor-patient relationship" he continued, "is a sacred relationship of trust. That insight goes back at least as far as the ancient Greeks. It's unethical to combine a doctor-patient relationship with any other kind of relationship. So... my parents had to drive to the next town to see a doctor because they can't treat themselves or each other. In your case... if we're..." he paused, searching for the right word, then going for a wrong one for comic effect, "... courting... I can't also be your doctor. Except in emergencies, obviously. I'm not formally your doctor and never have been... and there's also a question about whether I was ever informally your doctor... carrying you out of the woods is not a medical procedure. The trifling advice I offered you about recovery may or may not count as 'treatment' - that could be argued either way, but I'd say Hannah did more of the treatment than I did."

"Of course, the question still arises of whether I might have abused any residual and entirely misplaced feelings of gratitude and obligation that you might feel towards me. But you brought me a tree, which arguably discharged any such debt that might have existed. Hippocrates has little to say about trees, you'll be surprised to learn. So.... no harm, no foul as far as I can see, especially given the time elapsed. There's also the danger of denying your agency in all this.... unless I have reason to think that you're especially vulnerable for any reason... and, Miss...."
He paused, realising he didn't know her family name. "... Lea.... I don't think that's the case."

"So, in conclusion" he paused, leaning in conspiratorially, looking left and right as if checking for eavesdroppers, "I think we're in the clear" he whispered.

* * * * * *

Tom drove slowly and carefully on the way back, aware of the glass of wine he'd had to drink. It should be out of his system by now, given how long they'd been in the restaurant. He knew he ought to feel a bit guilty about that.... he had noticed some subtle and not-so-subtle hints... but they'd only needled his conscience to think about leaving... in a few more minutes. He hoped the generous tip he'd left when he'd settled the bill would go some way towards compensating for the late finish. He should care more about keeping those good people from finishing their work than he found that he did, in fact, care.

There was something delightfully pagan about wishing on shooting stars. Technically, technically.... he probably shouldn't. Doubtless there would be some absolutist, some literalist ready to stand up and remind everyone that thou shalt have no gods before me. But it wasn't a belief system... no-one really thought they came true... and therefore harmless. And perhaps even a good thing... thinking about what you wanted from life was important.

And the image in his head at that moment was of his back garden.... the apple sapling now well on the way to being an apple tree, with Tom and Lea sitting out back on patio chairs drinking coffee in happy companionable silence, watching two young children of indeterminate age and appearance racing around the garden playing some game or other. Although otherwise indistinct, one - probably the older, probably a boy - had Lea's black hair, and the other - younger, probably a girl - had his dark blonde hair, tied back in a neat ponytail.

Mind's-eye Lea looked over at Mind's-eye Tom and smiled a lovely, happy, contented smile.
"You know it's Apple Treeverssary in a couple of weeks?" she said, sipping her coffee, holding the mug in two hands. "I'm sure Hannah will take the kids for the night."
Mind's-eye Tom nodded, smiling. "I've already booked our table".

Hey!! Eyes on the road, real life Tom.

* * * * * * *

When they pulled up outside the house, Tom initially stayed in the car. He instantly regretted it when he say Lea stepping barefoot across the gravel. if he'd been quicker, he could have been out of the car, scooped her up, and carried her gallantly to the front door. He'd have liked that. Yeah, I'm sure you would.... and you'd definitely put her down at the front door, right? Not, say.... carried her inside... carried her up the stairs. He pictured Lea smiling up at him, laughing, eyes full of promise and mischief.

Staying in the car was, in fact, the safest course of action.

Lea invited him in for a drink, and then amended the invitation to a drink outside, which seemed significantly more straightforward. He wasn't sure if Lea had caught the look of hesitation on his face through the car window, had intuited it somehow, or had just had a better idea. It was, after all, a lovely night. And there was significantly less ambiguity about an invitation for a drink outside with some stargazing to being invited inside for a 'drink'.

Nevertheless, he should probably go. He should. Probably. Only he didn't want to. So he didn't. He liked her. He really liked her. So this was fine. Where had his mind gone when prompted for a wish? Somewhere wholesome. His intentions were honourable. He could have wished for.... all kinds of things. In any case, she was right... the night was warm, the sky was clear, and he didn't have work in the morning. And more than any of those things, he wanted to spend more time with Lea.

"Sure, why not?" he answered, unfastening his seatbelt with click and a swoosh and getting out of the car. "It is a nice night."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lea shouldn't have been as excited as she was to hear Tom say yes. Men had always said yes to her, ever since she was old enough to realize she wanted things from them. None of them had been like Tom though; keeping a respectful distance while his eyes were still warm and receptive as he watched her ascend the steps. He's such a good guy she thought as she gestured for him to take a seat on the porch swing. Maybe that was what was making her heart pound and her stomach flutter. Of course it had been easy to get all those bad guys in her past, guys who were happy to give you a Gucci handbag in exchange for five minutes of ungraceful fucking in a double bed that smelled like sweat and cheap cologne.

Until she'd gone to prison that had always seemed like enough. More than enough, even, when she was dating the guys really high up on Daddy's payroll, the ones who dressed nice and could usually be convinced to join her at a gallery opening every now and then. But Lea had always known that whenever she did get married, things would probably end up the same way they had for her parents and older brothers. The men make sure the women and children get taken care of, but the romance dies away after a while and they throw themselves into their work (and occasionally giggling blonde twenty-somethings too dumb to know any better). The women put up with it all because they have nice houses and PTA meetings to attend, and if they need to take out their aggressions on someone they do it by outspending and outdressing the other wives in the neighborhood. That was life for people like the Barsottis.

In prison though, Lea had spent a lot of time in the library. She'd burned through the three travelogues in the collection in less than a month, which meant all that was left was the respectable assortment of textbooks meant to help the women improve their lives after release, and the hundred and hundreds of dog-eared paperback romances, most of which had the dirty bits highlighted and underlined. Naturally, Lea had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the latter, and while she could certainly appreciate the raunchier passages when she was alone in the dead of night, it was the idealized relationships between men and women that had really soothed her most when her life seemed otherwise hopeless. She wasn't stupid of course, she knew dukes didn't really walk away from from their vast fortunes to marry peasant girls, and only a broad with a few screws loose would think she could really turn a rakish pirate and turn him into a perfectly loyal husband. It was nice to pretend though, even if just for a while.

Just like she could pretend a handsome country doctor could love a convicted thief, and a mobster's daughter no less.

"So what'll it be, Doc, whiskey?" she asked with one hand on the door. "Or more wine?" With the promise she would be back in a moment, Lea darted into the house more grateful than ever that Hannah and Jake were away. The ghost of a thousand excited questions seemed to echo through the halls, and in an effort to silence them she dug through her cousin's record collection. A short time later, the tinkling piano intro to 'They Can't Take That Away From Me' wafted out the open windows onto the porch. Lea herself followed shortly after, a drink in each hand and humming along with the vocals as she sank onto the swing beside Tom.

"Hanny and I used to watch all these old musicals with our grandma when we were kids," she mused as she sipped at her whiskey lemonade. "I know they're kind of corny, but I always loved all the singing and dancing everyone would do, even if there wasn't any real reason for it. I remember..." a giggle escaped her lips as Lea pulled her legs up underneath her. "I was probably five or six, and I really wanted to take tap dancing classes. I made up my own song and dance number about it and performed it for my parents, and Daddy said 'Well, after that performance I definitely think you need lessons'."

The giggles blossomed into full-blown laughter. "Well, either way I did get them for a few months. But then he thought I would be better at gymnastics and made me quit dancing to focus on that instead, and that was the end of my Broadway career. All washed up at age seven," she finished with an overdramatic sigh.

Taking another long drink, Lea looked curiously towards Tom. "Did you always want to be a doctor? I'm trying to think if I can picture you as anything else." Some kind of professor maybe, or a writer. He had that intellectual look about him, but seemed too neat and organized to be an artist or musician. Definitely not enough of an asshole to be a cop, and too sweet-natured for the military. And those hands of his...definitely doctor's hands. God, she wished he would touch her.

Glancing back up at the sky, Lea prayed for any sign that the falling star was going to grant her wish, but the constellations were uselessly silent. Fuckers. She listened quietly to Tom's voice as she slowly drained her glass, leaning a little closer to him every passing moment. And when the conversation had finally fallen silent, the woman recalled some words of advice her grandmother had given after their thousandth viewing of Shall We Dance: 'If you want to make a wish come true, sometimes you have to do it yourself.'

She didn't say a word. She merely set her empty glass on the porch floor, straightened her back so that her face was level with Tom's, and before he could say anything to stop her Lea kissed him. Her arms and shoulders were tensed, ready to lean away again if he pushed her back, but if she was going to kiss a man for the first time in seven years, by God she was going to make it worth her while. If he left in a fluster after this, if he never spoke to her again, at least she could take comfort in knowing she wasn't a coward.

 

[MrAdam]

Tom asked for a small glass of wine... one more wouldn't hurt. It shouldn't have made a difference that Hannah and Jake were away - he had his own place to himself all the time - but somehow it did. They didn't need to sneak around their backs, other than to avoid Hannah's inevitable I-told-you-so smirk. Whether it was the wine he'd already had, the intoxicating effect that the lovely Lea was having on him, or whether it was her infectious giddiness he wasn't sure, but he felt like a kid again. A kid with a hot date with the kind of girl who wore denim shorts, and whose parents were away for the night. And now they were playing music in the garden. And there was a porch swing, because of course there was a porch swing. He sat himself down.

He grinned when he heard the opening notes of the old time music. He didn't recognise it, but it triggered his own memories. After she told him about her song and dance career, he told Lea about his roommate in medical school one year who used to spend a lot of time playing a computer game called Fallout, which was set after a nuclear war. Apparently only the old music survived for some reason, so the soundtrack was full of music from the... he wasn't quite sure... but old times for sure... black and white TV times. He told her how he and his roommate Chris and Chris' girlfriend had wanted to sing 'Civilization' at a karaoke night, but they'd never found anywhere that had it. It would probably be 'problematic' now given some of the lyrics, Tom said, but he thought its heart was in the right place.

"They have things like the atom bomb.... so I think I'll stay where I.... arhhmm...... Civilization? I'll stay right here!" he sung, grinning. While he was no Fred Astaire, he had a more than passable baritone singing voice.

Lea asked him if he'd always wanted to be a doctor.
"Absolutely not" he said, shaking his head. "I fought against my inevitable fate for as long as I could. Anything my parents did was, by definition, square and boring. When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. Or a football player. Or a pastor. I wanted to be a pastor for a while. My mom tells this story about how she invited our Pastor around for Sunday lunch. She asks me what I want to be when I grow up, and I say, I want to be a Pastor like Reverend Andy. He's delighted, and asks me why, and I say 'because I want everyone to have to be quiet and listen to me even if I'm really boring'! I don't remember, but it sounds like the kind of thing I'd have said!"

"I'd keep flitting between careers... whatever had just impressed me most recently. I'd keep going back to 'teacher', though... again, probably because everyone had to be quiet and listen even if I was boring. I never properly considered being a doctor, until my science teacher mentioned it, and then, like, a few days later, some of the community elders said something about it... they both kinda assumed that I'd be following in my parents' footsteps... Mr Martinez because I was getting the grades, and the elders... I don't know, they thought I'd be good at it. I don't know how it was with you, what with you being Catholic and all... but for me it was less about what I wanted to do, and more about what God was calling me to do... and when you get that kind of serendipity... two people saying the same thing... yeah, could be coincidence, but it could be something else."

She's looking at you like she'd going to kiss you.
What?
She's going to kiss you.
Are you sure?
Yes. Duh. Idiot.

He paused. "Sometimes.... what seems like a coincidence is really happening for a reason." His words tailed away.

Oh. Oh. What should I do?
Stop talking.
Okay.
Then kiss her back.
Gotcha.

His lips met hers, his only a heartbeat or two behind. He kissed her gently... tentatively.... experimentally, almost. It had been a while for him. And she seemed... he wasn't sure quite what, but they took their time, learning how to kiss together, as all couples do. He lightly draped his arm around her shoulders. This... all of this... was just... amazing. Perfect. There were... things he was dimly aware of... his worry about this being a 'holiday romance' for her, about what the Reverend had said about her not being right for him... but they all just gracefully withdrew from his consciousness. They knew when they were not wanted.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

God, she'd missed this.

Maybe it would have felt as good with any man putting his arm around her, squeezing her slowly but firmly against his chest as the scent of him overpowered her in the most delicious way imaginable. But Lea wanted to believe it was Tom himself having this effect on her, making her heart pound so loud she would have sworn it was thunder in the hills, and sending delightful bolts of electricity radiating through her body. She could taste the wine on his lips, and as her own arm wound his waist she could feel the lean muscle of his body beneath the tweed, and a wicked temptation to pull it off him suddenly made her fingers twitch against his back.

Thankfully, Lea wasn't quite drunk enough to indulge in that particular urge. Not yet, anyway.

She finally pulled away for a breath, eyes shining and lips still parted hungrily, though smiling all the same. "It's a good thing you didn't become a pastor. I would have maybe felt a little guilty about that just now," Lea teased as she reached for her drink. Some distant part of her recalled that pastors weren't necessarily forbidden from dating, but some of the other things she had in mind...

Lea took another drink in the hopes of cooling her body, which was beginning to grow unreasonably warm. "It's uh...it's been a while since I've done that," she admitted, daring a look back towards the doctor. Was it her imagine, or did he seem a little flustered as well? Maybe, but there was definitely no sign of the disgust she had half-feared, half-expected such a brazen act to evoke from the respectable (even uptight, though in a good way) young doctor. With her free hand, the woman reached for his and kept his arm firmly around her as she pressed a little closer to him.

"Has it been a while for you too?" she whispered in his ear, setting down her drink and resting her other hand lightly on his knee. Like a spider, it slowly began to creep upward. "Hanny told me you'd been single as long as she'd known you. Either that, or you were the best secret-keeper in town." Lea giggled as she shifted slightly, almost turning on her side. With one easy movement, it would have been so easy to swing her leg over to the other side of Tom, straddling his lap and letting him feel the dampness between her legs. Her skirt would probably ride up in the process too, and while the property was certainly isolated the city girl couldn't help but wonder if there was some secret watcher somewhere, waiting for a glimpse of her bare ass in the shadows.

"You don't have a girl you're hiding somewhere, do you Tom?" Lea continued, her hand wisely bypassing the front of his trousers and instead teasing along the buttons of his shirt. "I like you. I really like you. But I know better than to come onto another woman's man. I'm not that bad." With one flick of a finger, she undid the top button of his shirt, exposing just a hint of collarbone. She wanted to run her tongue across it, but settled for bringing her face near his again.

The second kiss was quicker, but hungrier as well, and now her fingers were running through his hair. Not quite tugging, though she could have if she wanted. I knew it was soft Lea thought dreamily as she pulled away. "Do you want to come upstairs with me?" she whispered, guiding one of his hands towards her breast in the hopes of swaying his answer. She'd cleaned the little apartment above the garage in some unspoken hope of bringing Tom up there after dinner, but until now she hadn't really believed there was any real possibility he would actually do it. Even now there was a little doubt in her eyes, though she tried to hide it behind her desire and bravado as she began to toy with the next button on his shirt.

 

[MrAdam]

Tom was dumbstruck after their kiss. It had just been so... intoxicating. He had lost himself utterly in the kiss, and when Lea pulled away, it took him several moments to find himself again. She was so beautiful... so lovely.... He had a strange, almost out-of-body experience, when he felt like he was watching the movie version of his life through his own eyes. He answered her question about whether it had been a while for him too with a nod, some part of his brain registering that such a statement may not be compatible with having 'boy troubles', but Tom wasn't currently accessing the part of his brain where that information had been stored.

He took her teasing question about whether he really was single more seriously than she'd intended it.
"No, I.... No" he murmured. "I'm not...." He gave up, and his voice trailed off.

She traced her hand up the button line of his shirt, and unfastened the top button of his shirt with practiced ease.

Stop this.
Um.... what?
I said 'stop this'. Now.
Uh.... why?
Because you know where this is going. And because you know that it's wrong.
Do I? And do I?
Don't play naive... you're not naive. And yes, yes it is wrong. You know this.
But it feels right...
No it doesn't
Yes it does
No it doesn't.
Can't I, just-
No
Why can't I... we...
NO
She's going to kiss me again
Stop it. Now.
Won't. Too late now!

And then she kissed him again. And for a few moments, the voice in his head was stunned into silence. They kissed again, more passionately. He felt her fingers running through his hair... he wanted to touch her too, but wouldn't or couldn't do more than keep his arm around her shoulder. He felt his other hand hovering uselessly in indecision... drifting towards her knee, but... something was stopping him from acting on his instinct.

She whispered the question he should have expected. He felt her take his hand, and... she wasn't going to place it on her knee.

But no matter what bravado his inner libido had come out with, no matter how enjoyable it had been to imagine, the cold reality was that he wasn't going to sleep with her. Not tonight. He knew this now for certain.... he wasn't going to.... part of him wanted to... but it wasn't the part of him that was in charge. It wasn't even a part of him that had a voice. He knew he wasn't going to. He couldn't. 'Couldn't' was a strong, free-will denying word, but however ever much he wanted her... carnally, to use an awful word. It just didn't feel right. It wouldn't be... no, it wouldn't be meaningless... but it wouldn't mean enough. Not for him.

But he liked where his hand was going... that would be okay, wouldn't it? A kiss and a caress, but no further? Let her do this, let her guide your hand there, kiss some more, then stop.

No.
I've said I'm going to stop.
No.
I'm going to stop
I know.
So why....
Because it's not fair to lead her on.
No... I mean, yeah. No, you're right.

Lea would feel him move his hand for a moment, following her guidance, positive reaching to touch her. Only to pull away at the last moment. He felt the second button on his shirt slip out of the whole as he felt Lea tense up in response to him pulling away. What must she be thinking in that moment? Tom felt... embarrassed... ashamed... even though he was doing the right thing by him, it felt like the wrong thing by her. He didn't want to hurt Lea, to disappoint her... just this.... too soon, too fast.... didn't feel right. Could he explain it? Could he find the words, would she laugh at him, like....

Pull yourself together, for fuck's sake!

"Um...." he started, sitting up straight. He was unsure what to do with his arm, still draped uselessly around her shoulders. Didn't want to withdraw it... withdraw from her... didn't want to leave it there. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand between his, before seeming to find some confidence and composure from somewhere.

"Yes" he said, simply, looking deeply into her eyes. He felt himself starting to blush... he hoped she couldn't tell in the twilight. His voice was low, calm, level. "Yes, I do want to.... go upstairs with you. I like you too. I really like you too., Lea. But I...." he paused, with a slight grimace. He swallowed and started again.

Don't say 'it's not you, it's me'.

"You're right, it has been a while. But... it's not so much that as... it's just a bit soon, you know?"
He shrugged. "It's just the way I'm wired, I guess. I don't usually... come upstairs... outside committed relationships, I mean. But I'd like to explore that, if you'd like that too. I'm not turning you down, Lea... I'm sorry if I hurt you, disappointed you, I didn't mean to. Please don't think I'm rejecting you... it's the opposite of that."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The second button on Tom's shirt must have been a killswitch, and one with a hair trigger at that. No sooner had Lea's finger brushed against it and the energy of the night had wholly changed. The heat between their bodies went out like a candle being snuffed, and the doctor went still as a statue beside her.

Now you've done it.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was small and broken as she shrunk away from him. What the fuck had she been thinking, throwing herself at him like a bitch in heat? Tom wasn't some Newport thug, thinking with his dick and looking at sex as one more hobby to kill the hours between work. He was a doctor, for Christ's sake. He'd almost been a pastor. He lived all alone with the Prayer of St. Francis on his wall and looked at women with those cool, clinical eyes of his, totally unperturbed even now.

At least as far as she could tell, blinded as she was by the humiliation.

And here came Lea the Dumbass, so desperate to get laid that she could mistake that kindness for attraction, sympathy for passion. But it wasn't fair! Why did God give a man lips like that, hands like that, a body that had felt so fucking good crushed up against hers and then spoil it all with a sense of decency and morals? He's not for the likes of you something cruel within her teased. He'll marry a nice church girl who does volunteer work and has never been within twenty miles of a prison, and he'll probably fuck her brains out every night knowing it's sanctioned by the church as long as they end up with a litter full of kids, each as beautiful as he is...

His hand caught hers, pulling her out of the spiral. And the one word that caressed her ear felt like a dream. It was over just as quickly.

"Yes, I do want to go upstairs with you. I like you too. I really like you too., Lea. But I--"

"There's always a 'but', isn't there?" Lea interrupted with a bitter smile. "Look, it's fine. I guess I'm drunker than I thought, and all that just now...it wasn't appropriate. I'm sorry."

Something in Tom's voice wasn't though. He was still holding her hand, and the woman dared to believe his grip had even tightened just a little.

"...committed relationships..."

"....I'd like to explore that..."

"...Please don't think I'm rejecting you..."

Lea pulled her hand free and reached for her glass. It was all melted ice now, mixed with the the last few dregs of whiskey and lemonade to soothe her injured ego. When it was empty as she felt, she looked back towards the doctor with a sardonic smile on her lips. "So you mean after I just assaulted you like that, you'd still be up for a second date? I guess at least I haven't totally lost my touch then."

Deciding it would be best to keep some space between them for right now, she sat down on the rail of the porch with her back to one of the support posts, turning her face away from the doctor to look up at the stars. "You know, this was the first date I've gone on in more than seven years. On the last one, I got railed by my boyfriend in a nightclub bathroom while some guy watched us over a pile of coke. Then my boyfriend had the guy drive me home after he got called for a last minute work thing."

Still smiling, albeit sadly, she shook her head before looking back at Tom. "I'm not bragging or anything," she added in a flat voice. "But...if you seriously want to see me again, if you want to see me enough times to feel like we're 'committed,' then I don't want to waste your time by letting you think I'm something I'm not. I am the type of girl to fuck on a first date, Tom. I'm the type who gets too drunk in front of guys she's just met, because she thinks if she can come off as fun enough and flirty enough, then maybe he won't actually notice there isn't much to her beyond that."

Lea rested her head against the post. "Guess I couldn't fool you though, could I?" She let out a sigh. "For what it's worth, I would still see you again, Tom. As many times as you want."

Would that be just once more? Twice? A thousand times? Or was this the last time she could ever expect to see him, barring any future leg injuries of course.

 

[MrAdam]

This wasn't the first time that Tom had turned down amorous advances that came too early for him. In terms of how it went, this one was somewhere in the middle. At the top end was talking all night and a relatively chaste kiss and a cuddle. At the bottom end was shouted aspersions about his masculinity and his sexuality. The latter was particularly unsettling... if malicious rumours ever started to circulate and reach members of his faith community, it would be excruciatingly awkward and embarrassing to have to deal with. Fortunately it had never come to that.

Tom resisted the temptation to interrupt and tell her that she had nothing to apologise for, that she hadn't assaulted him. But instead he let her talk.

And then she told him about what happened on her last date.

Lea was already looking in another direction, and Tom too, looked away from her. An image flashed unbidden in his head, and he felt a sudden surge of emotion rise up within him. Revulsion. Anger. And... yes, jealousy. The scene conjured up by his mind's eye was like some sort of Sodom and Gomorrah nightmare of depravity... in reality it might have been a perfectly nice nightclub and a less piss-soaked and graffiti-marked bathroom... but in his head it was the worst kind of filthy, sleazy dive bar. With Al Pacino slumped in a chair and watching on from behind a Scarface-size pile of coke.

He was angry... not with Lea, but that it happened to Lea. Because she was worth so much more than that. She deserved silk sheets and rose petals and the gentle, loving attentions of a partner who was sensitive and responsive to her needs, who would give and receive pleasure in equal measure. He wasn't quite sure what 'railing' meant in practice, but his mind translated it into an act of selfish, animalistic pleasure seeking that reduced Lea - the hem of her little black dress roughly hiked up and panties tugged down - to a masturbatory aid. He was angry at this 'boyfriend' who had treated her like that... letting Al Pacino watch.... and he wasn't quite sure what it was about the junkie voyeur Al driving Lea home after he'd abandoned her that made this story so much worse, but it did. God, it did. He'd have held her as they basked in the afterglow... stroked her hair, spooned... enjoyed that moment together, the feeling of safety and security... of loving and being loved. That's what Lea deserved... ideally with him, but if not him, then someone worthy. If he was angry with Lea, it was because she didn't appear to know her own worth and let bastards take advantage.

She'd said she wasn't bragging, but in a strange, flat voice. You're not bragging because you didn't want it, he thought. Not really. It didn't sound like outright assault, not the way she described it. But that didn't mean it was what she wanted, either. Did he have some sort of hold over her? Did she think she couldn't say no, or had to do what he wanted? Boyfriend trouble, remember? Or was this just him projecting? Wishful thinking?

But the point she was trying to make was... that this was the kind of thing she did. Had done. That this was the kind of thing she enjoyed. Some women did. He couldn't - shouldn't - just assume that she lacked agency, that she didn't want it, that he made her do it. That she was the vanilla-scented damsel-in-distress needing rescuing by him, the handsome, wholesome Christian prince charming who would give her morally and aesthetically superior pleasure. Every orgasm accompanied by a hallelujah chorus and a puff of air freshener.

Unless... she'd just made it to shock him. Perhaps to test him. To see if it would drive him away. Perhaps to push him away before he could push her away. Push her away again. Dump someone before they dump you. He couldn't be sure. Couldn't be sure of anything, except pulsing, confused feelings of anger and revulsion and jealousy that he had no idea what to do with or about.

Tom didn't know how to respond. So he said so.
"I don't know how to respond to that" he muttered, staring off into the distance, trying to give his mind's eye the kind of bleaching that the imaginary bathroom desperately needed.

Lea said she would want to see him again, and he turned to face her once more.
"Okay..." he said, taking a breath, "First thing.... you don't need to apologise for... inviting me upstairs with you. It's... oh, I can't find better words than a 'lovely offer' and that's wrong... that's like a cup of coffee or a slice of cake. It's flattering, that's what I mean. It.... it means you like me to at least the extent of wanting to... you know... and it means that you trust me, which is no small thing. You've done nothing wrong, Lea. If you'd ripped the buttons off my expensive shirt, it might have been a different matter" he grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"Second thing.... I'm not going to apologise for not going upstairs with you tonight. If a guy asks a girl and she says it's too soon, it's too soon, and he better respect that. For me... I don't know... I can't really explain. Yes, I have certain religious beliefs, but I don't think that's why. I don't want to hide behind religion. I just think.... I've never had casual... you know. Wouldn't feel right, and I wouldn't know how., because...." he trailed off..... "because I need more than lust, however fantastic you look in that dress."

"I feel like we're quite different... but I like you a lot, Lea. I'm drawn to you by more than just lust. I guess I don't know whether what we want... what we need... overlaps enough for a committed relationship to work. I mean, there's no level of committed relationship in which I'm going to... in a nightclub bathroom. But I really want to find out, and... if it's been a while for both of us, it's probably good to... I don't know. Do the dating thing."

"And... I don't know if you know this, but Hannah's told me next to nothing about you. 'Boy trouble' was all she ever said, and you were there when she said it. I've not really asked about... about you, about your life before coming here. And that's not because I'm not interested, it's because I figured you'd tell me when you wanted to tell me."

"Should I go? Has this evening got terminally awkward?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"I don't know how to respond to that."

Lea stared back at him a moment, and like a bolt of lightning her pained expression shattered into hysterical, uncomfortable laughter. "Right? I'm so fucking great at small talk, aren't I? Next time I'll tell you about the orgy I had with my sorority sisters at Coachella. Kidding!" She shook her head violently, sending her black mane flying in front of her face. "Fuck...I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes about this stuff. I'm so drunk, fuck."

All the same, Tom didn't seem to mind. He still spoke to her as gently and sweetly as he had the day he'd picked her up off the trail, and when Lea dared a second look at him she couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight was illuminating his face. He's like an angel something poetic in her mused, though thankfully her mouth was too slow to get the words out and embarrass her further. Maybe he wouldn't mind though. The doctor really did seem to like her, despite all the faults she'd put on display for him tonight.

Which begged the question...why? Obviously he wasn't just there to get laid. He probably wasn't after a free meal either. All the possible scenarios from every rom-com Lea had ever seen ran through her head. Was there some other woman he wanted to make jealous? Was he secretly gay, and trying to use her as a cover? Had all of this just been some elaborate setup by Hannah to help her cousin get her confidence back? She supposed all of those were technically possible, but none of them struck her as particularly likely. Even Hannah wasn't that good of a schemer.

"So...you really want to just do the dating thing?" Lea finally asked, narrowing her eyes a little as if she expected him to include some unpleasant caveat. 'Yes, but...' There was always fine print. "We get a meal once a week, go shopping, see a movie...whatever people do for fun around here." She thought about it a moment, then shrugged. "I guess I don't have a problem with that if you don't. Aren't you worried about getting bored though? I mean, maybe the reason Hannah didn't tell you much about me is because there isn't much to tell."

Not much that she wanted to tell anyway. For all Tom's sexual hangups, whatever they might have been, she didn't even want to think about what he would say when he found out she was a felon, that she'd gotten a man killed and served time for it. And that was even before going in-depth on all the family stuff.

Who was to say though that she'd ever get to that point though? He probably would get bored of her after a while, if she couldn't keep him interested with sex. Lea weighed the options heavily in her mind. She could end it all here, she supposed, before she could get too attached and get her heart broken yet again; tell him to leave and never call her again, then go upstairs and cry herself to sleep. And next week, she'd...what? Sit alone upstairs, watching another sappy movie by herself? At least with Tom she'd have someone to hang out with besides Jake and Hannah. She just needed to make sure she didn't get too deeply involved, that was all.

Besides, tonight really had been fun up until a few minutes ago, when she herself ruined things.

"Okay, sure, I'm willing to give it a shot if you are," she replied with a shy smile. "I do think you should go, but just because I'm probably going to pass out here soon. But...if you want to ask me out again, I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. Whenever you're ready."

Behind her back, one more shooting star fell across the sky.

*****
​

When Jake and Hannah got back from their trip, Lea didn't say a word to them about her date with Tom. Someone must have though, possibly even Tom himself, because a few days later the older woman pounced on her cousin like a cat on a mouse.

"Sooooo how was it? And how could not tell me you and Tom had a date!" Hannah pouted as she shook a motherly finger in Lea's face. "After I went through the trouble of introducing you and everything!"

Lea rolled her eyes as she fixed her hair in the hall mirror. "It was fine. Nice. We just had dinner, that's all," she answered dispassionately before putting on her jacket.

"Well are you going to see him again? You two make such a cute couple, and if he were part of the family...!" The wheels spinning in Hannah's head were practically visible as she followed Lea out to her truck. "We could spend Christmas together! Ooh, next time we go up to the cabin, you two should come too. Or you could go by yourselves if you want, Jake and I don't mind--"

"Han, it was one date," Lea interrupted. "I'll see him when I see him, but no one's in a rush or anything. At least, Tom isn't. I, on the other hand--" She checked her phone and cursed under her breath. "Am going to be late for a meeting with Alice. I'll see you later." Before Hannah could detain her any further, she climbed into the driver's seat and sped off.

As luck would have it, she arrived at the coffee shop on Main Street just as a shockingly tall, rather brawny-looking woman of about sixty was walking up the steps ahead of her. She was smartly dressed in a black suit and carried a briefcase, and while her blue eyes were gentle as they fell on Lea's form, her mouth was firm and unsmiling.

"Almost late there, weren't you Barsotti?" the woman chided as she held the door open for Lea.

"Sorry, Ms. Parker," the younger woman panted. It was always 'Ms. Parker' when she suspected the parole officer was in a bad mood. Otherwise they'd been working together long enough where the P.O. was happy to be addressed as 'Alice.' Today did not seem like one of those days, however. "Traffic was bad," Lea added lamely.

Ms. Parker stared blankly out at the street, which was lined with cars but featured very few moving vehicles. "That so? Well, let's get a drink then and you can tell me more about it. Work going well?"

Yes, work was fine, she'd even gotten promoted. The parole officer seemed pleasantly surprised at this, and asked when Lea planned to get her own place. Hopefully in the winter, but she liked living with Hannah and her husband (mostly) and they didn't seem to be in a hurry to see her leave.

"Well, whenever you're ready to leave their custody, I think we'll be able to arrange that," Alice replied with a smile as she sipped her chamomile tea. "And how's your social life these days, Lea? Making any friends?"

"....Kinda."

 

[MrAdam]

Tom had been surprised by Lea's suggestion that he might become bored of her. He thought the opposite was much more likely to be true. She was an urbane sophisticate who liked art and art galleries and night clubs, and.... well... perhaps nightclub bathrooms too... but he pushed that thought through his mind. He was a staid, small town general practitioner who was too dull even to have sex with her. Of the two of them, she seemed the likeliest to get bored first. But perhaps this was just Lea's low self esteem talking... Tom thought he'd seen flashes of it once or twice before... an assumption she seemed to carry with her that she was worth less than others. Likely that's how she'd been treated.

Lea mentioned being drunk, which made Tom feel better. It was certainly possible... likely, even... that Lea had had more to drink than he'd thought. He'd been driving, so he hadn't drunk very much at all. Although the good Lord had bestowed many blessings on lovely lithe lissome Lea, there wasn't all that much of her to soak up the alcohol. It was possible that a little went a long way. And if that was the case, he felt more confident that he'd the right decision in not going upstairs with her. That wouldn't be his finger-wagging religion or weird inability to be intimate without a proper run up, even with a beauty like Lea... that would just be minimally decent behaviour in not taking advantage. Right?

Later, after an awkward goodbye and a peck on the cheek, Tom lay - very much alone - in his own bed waiting for sleep to come. His thoughts were of just how good Lea had looked in that dress. Of just how good she looked in running gear, and by extension, just how good she would have looked out of that dress. He remembered the passion of that second kiss, and the feel of her fingers in his hair. Her hand on his, urging him to touch her. If he'd waited a few moments more, then..... He remembered the whisper of her breath on his neck, on his ear as she asked him for more and started to unbutton his shirt...

If you weren't such a coward, you'd be sharing Lea's bed right now. Maybe spooning contentedly, maybe drifting off to sleep in each other's arms. You'd know exactly how good she looked out of that dress, because her clothes would be strewn - along with yours - all over the floor. And you just know the sex would have been amazing. And you could have avoided all that awkwardness. Your next date could have been breakfast. Instead, you're lying alone, thinking of what might have been, yet now probably never will be. Because you're an idiot.

Tom smiled to himself at the hectoring tone of his frustrated libido. All that might be true, but he'd still made the right decision. But it was nice to imagine what might have been... what might still be. When the time was right.

* * * * *

He'd texted Lea the following morning. Tom didn't subscribe to the school of thought that said it was better to wait a bit, not seem too keen. What was the point in playing games? He spent a good ten minutes agonising over the precise phrasing.

Hey Lea, really enjoyed our date last night. Hope you did too. If I ask you out again, are you still pretty sure that the answer still yes? Because I want to ask you out again.

But it would be difficult to find much time over the next few days. There was work. There was church. There were committees and voluntary groups. There was those courses he was doing. But, he hoped, towards the end of the week or the weekend might be better. Tom fretted that Lea might think he was finding excuses, but he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make that feeling worse.

Speaking of feeling worse, someone had told Hannah about his date with Lea. Because of course they had. The restaurant might have been in the next town over, but someone had seen them and said something.

"Way I heard it, they almost had to close up the restaurant around you to get you two to leave!" said Hannah, grinning, and feeling thoroughly vindicated. She'd been worried that she might be starting to lose her touch.
Tom felt his cheeks burning, hoping against hope that Hannah wouldn't notice. She noticed. He blushed some more. What was wrong with you? You're not a kid any more.
"Oh... you really like her, don't you?"
"It was just dinner" he said, about to play it down before changing his mind. Why shouldn't he answer honestly? "But... yeah, I think I do. Did Lea tell you we went out for dinner?" he continued, fishing for information.
"No, she didn't" said Hannah, disapprovingly, "and I've not forgiven either of you for not telling me. But don't forget this is a small town, Dr Meyer... and don't ask me to reveal my sources."
"She's not said anything, then?"
"No! You can't ask me that! And I wouldn't tell you even if she had."
Tom grinned at her mock outrage.
"She's your cousin, I know. Look, I'm-"
"Is this where you tell me that your intentions towards my cousin are entirely honourable, Dr Meyer?" Hannah's eyes sparkled with amusement. It was his entirely Tom's fault that he could be so much fun to tease sometimes.
"Well, yes-"
"I know, Tom. You think I'd have introduced you otherwise?"

* * * * * * *

Tom hadn't heard Lea or her companion enter the coffee shop. He'd been sat at a booth in the far corner, deep in conversation about plans he had been drawing up with his regular running partners, Katie and Will, to do.... something... to encourage people to be more active and enjoy the trails. He was aware of regular timed walking, jogging or running events that had started to spring up after the success of such events in Europe. They were timed, but weren't races as such. Katie had remarked that they might have to make them 'three miles' rather than 'five kilometres' as that might make them seem suspiciously European. Or they could organise a sponsored run or walk to raise money for a local charity. As a doctor, Tom was keen on the public health benefits of exercise, and people from his church were always keen to be involved in community events. But he wanted to stop the runners from making it a running event, the Christians from turning it into a church picnic, and the charity representatives from making it just a fundraiser. They'd also need licenses, permissions, insurance.... probably... so they'd invited Mrs Francis, the town clerk, along in order to pick her brains in exchange for coffee and some excellent apple pie.

Tom had excused himself from the rest of the group a moment to take a call from the practice reception. He'd left the cafe in case the call might be confidential, noticing Lea and her companion on the way out. He waved as he spoke into his phone. Fortunately the enquiry from the duty receptionist was relatively trivial and easily dealt with. Unfortunately, that now meant he had to go back inside and decide what to do.

He didn't want to ignore Lea, but neither did he want to intrude. He could just wave again and return to his table, and catch up later. But he didn't want Lea to think he was avoiding her, or was in any way embarrassed to be seen with her. Much might depend on who the other woman was... hope that's not her mom, she looks... formidable... he caught himself thinking, uncharitably. But no, they looked nothing alike. She was dressed smartly, though... job interview, maybe? He didn't want to interrupt a job interview, but who holds job interviews in coffee shops? No-one who doesn't want to risk interruptions, that was for sure.

After a moment's hesitation, Tom decided that he would say hello and trust to his instincts to take the temperature of the interaction and react accordingly. It could turn into a longer conversation, introductions, or he could just apologise for interrupting and leave them to it.

Mind made up, Tom re-entered the cafe, slipping his phone back into the inside pocket of his tweed jacket, the same one he'd been wearing the first time he'd met Lea, with a small, silver Christian ichthys fish symbol badge on one lapel, and a subtle medical association badge on the other.

"Hello Lea, how are you doing? Lovely to see you!" he asked, smiling broadly. Too broadly. As she turned, he felt drawn to give her a peck on the cheek in greeting, and although he resisted, the trace of that urge remained.

Tom saw Lea's companion turn towards him, and before he knew it, he found himself introducing himself to her. He'd been right, she was formidable... Tom was getting strong scary high school principal vibes from her, and found himself wanting... not her approval exactly, but at least keen to avoid her disapproval.
"Tom Meyer" he said, offering his hand, "pleased to meet you."
He felt like more context was needed, so he continued.
"I, er... work with Lea's cousin"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Lea probably shouldn't have been shocked to see Tom in the coffee shop in the middle of the day--it was the only one in town, after all--but all the same her eyes widened when she saw that familiar stately form of his pacing across the room, phone pressed firmly to his ear. The doctor was handsome as ever, though he looked a little stressed, and their brief text exchanges since their date had been friendly enough that she might have considered approaching him to see what was wrong.

But she could hardly interrupt Alice and her explanation of court dates, legal fees, and the absolute ruling that the convict would not leave the country under any circumstances, so instead Lea dropped her gaze and hoped Tom wouldn't notice her. The idea of having to introduce him to her parole officer of all things...well, she definitely wouldn't be getting a second date after that. Maybe the doctor could forgive someone who fucked on the first date, but someone who would break into an international museum and steal paintings?

She thought she'd gotten away with it when Tom walked out the door. If nothing else, the sudden relax in her posture was certainly enough to draw Alice's attention.

"Are you all right?" the older woman asked, raising one iron-gray brow as she looked over her charge.

Before Lea could answer, the bell over the door to the coffee shop dinged again. No, please no... she prayed, but the only answer was Tom's voice.

"Hello Lea, how are you doing? Lovely to see you!" he asked, good-natured as ever and clearly unaware of the discomfort locking up the woman's body. Alice's gaze was much sharper though, and she could tell from the blush on the girl's cheeks and the fidgety energy in her fingers that this was clearly someon Lea liked. And not someone who knew what exactly she was.

"Well, Lea," the parole officer remarked with some amusement. "Are you going to introduce me to your...friend?" From the way the man was looking at her, Alice doubted he wanted to be 'friends' with Lea any more than she wanted to be with him.

Tom took the liberty of introducing himself before Lea could summon the strength to do it herself, and Alice noticed with a small glance of approval both the medical badge and the fish symbol on his jacket. It didn't seem too likely though that Miss Barsotti had suddenly become religious on her parole. No, it was probably the man's broad shoulders and gentle smile that had a little more to do with that. "Oh yes, you're Miss Owens' employer, I believe?" she mused as she recalled the background check the state had performed before Lea's release.

"This is Alice Parker," Lea suddenly interrupted before the parole officer could say anything else. "She's uh...my aunt."

This took the older woman aback somewhat, but the pleading look in Lea's eyes prevented her from saying anything more at the moment.

"We were just sitting down for our monthly gab session," the dark-haired woman continued, avoiding Tom's gaze and smiling a little too brightly towards her PO. "Was there anything else you wanted to chat about, Auntie?"

Alice narrowed her eyes a moment, looking from Lea to Tom, then back again. "I suppose not," she said slowly, picking up her briefcase. "I'll call you if I think of anything else. Same time next month?"

"Yes, of course!" Lea replied, rising to her feet as Alice did.

"And you'll keep me posted about your living situation? You know important it is that ah...your uncle stays up to date with your address."

"Totally," the younger woman replied before giving the world's most awkward hug to the older woman.

Ms. Parker stiffened at the embrace but didn't shove Lea off, though she did dust off the sleeves of her blazer once she was released. With a cool, professional goodbye to Tom, she made a mental note to have a background check run on the doctor as well, then took her leave of the coffee shop.

Again, Lea's entire body relaxed, and the smile she gave Tom was much more genuine now as she sat back down in her chair. "So, what are you doing here? Playing hooky?" she asked with a wink as she gestured an offer of Alice's former seat.

 

[MrAdam]

Tom frowned, puzzled, as he took the now-vacant seat that Lea offered him. He'd done so on automatic pilot as he tried to make sense of the puzzling exchange that had just taken place.

Too late he'd realised he'd make a mistake in coming over, and once the mistake was made, there was no way out of it that wouldn't make things worse. He imagined pulling the handle on an ejector seat, or the rip cord on a parachute. But unfortunately life has no 'undo' button. He'd tried to protest when Alice Parker had given him that searching look and told Lea that she had nothing further to 'chat about'... he didn't want to interrupt... he was meeting friends himself, and he only wanted to say hello, and.... it was all in vain. He'd broken something that couldn't be fixed, not even by his going away again. Perhaps their conversation had really reached a serendipitous, natural conclusion just as he arrived, but he rather doubted it. He also wondered whether Alice Parker ever just 'chatted' about anything. She didn't seem the type.

And he didn't believe for one moment that Alice Parker was really Lea's aunt. As a religious man he was very familiar with the figure of the formidable (usually maiden) Aunt, whose piety and devotion were exceeded only by their capacity for uncharitable judgements about the follies and foibles of other people in their community. But that encounter didn't feel right...probably later Tom would realise what it was... if your aunt was one of those Formidable Aunts, you'd know that they weren't a hugger... you would or you wouldn't, but you'd know, and it wouldn't be awkward because you'd be used to it. Probably.

More obviously, her 'aunt' had referred to Hannah as 'Miss Owens'... or 'Ms Owens', he couldn't be entirely sure. Which was an odd thing to do. He could take it for granted that Alice and Hannah and Lea's mother weren't sisters... but even if Alice was Lea's father's sister... it was still oddly formal. Possibly it was a loaded remark... intended to cast some shade... perhaps to stress Hannah's relationship with Jake for some reason? Tom had no idea. And they looked nothing alike.

Lea had definitely just lied to him. The only question was why, and what the truth was. It struck Tom as a delightful little mystery. It couldn't possibly be anything serious... this was Lea, after all. It was probably a panicked white lie, probably more to do with protecting the mysterious Alice Parker than with her. Tom imagined them laughing about it later.... remember the time when you pretended Alice as your aunt... you actually gave her a hug and called her auntie!

Wait, wait wait... she just lied... straight out lied to your face. And you don't care? You think it's a joke?
Well, I don't know... it's probably not... it's not good, is it?
Remember what the Reverend said. She's not right for you. He senses something.
He doesn't know her. He's just got himself all het up because he saw you carrying her out of the woods wearing.... and didn't like what he thinks he saw.
Do you know her? How much do you actually know about her? Other than that she wears denim shorts, likes art, and fucks on the floor of nightclubs?
Or at least says she has. I still don't know if I believe that. I do know she's Hannah's cousin, so....
... so she comes highly recommended. That I grant you.
I think she is right for me. Or at least I want to find out if she is.
Dude, red flags. So many red flags. You don't see them because you're lonely and bored and want a get-out so you don't have to make excuses for not taking child-bride-Phillipa out. Also your contrarian nature and weird denim shorts fetish. And she's hot. And cute. And hot. She's so hot we nearly slept with her on a first date. If we'd had more more glass of wine....
I don't have a denim shorts fetish. We don't have a denim shorts fetish.
No, that's true. But we both know that it symbolizes a deeper truth.
That's true.
So... what... we're just going to sit here and say nothing about being lied to. Just plaster on a shit-eating-grin and pretend we don't know?
She doesn't owe us an explanation. She doesn't owe us anything.
She kinda does if you're gonna be dating her. Don't be a chump about this. You deserve to know what's going on.
Do I? Do we?
Yes.
Can we not work out what's going on?
I don't know. Can we?
Maybe. Oh... what if she's....?
Oh. Oh. That makes total sense. Total sense. I think you might be right. You're a genius. That explains everything.
Not too shabby. We are a genius.

"Lea" he said quietly, ignoring her question. He reached out to take her hands in his. His expression was serious, his blue-grey eyes full of concern and compassion.
"You can tell me the truth, you know."

He paused, and took a breath. Keeping his voice low to make sure that he couldn't be overheard, he continued.

"Is Alice your sponsor? Have you had problems with substance abuse? It's okay... really. I'm a doctor, I have some experience of these things. I don't judge you, Lea. I don't think less of you. It can happen to anyone. Anyone. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all. Your secret is safe with me."