Beneath the Surface(18)

Perhaps Sheryl had been too ambitious in wanting to add the gravitas this cabin gave to her actions. The memories she had here, though certainly not all good, were of such nostalgic force that they couldn’t be ignored. She’d been a fool to have tried. She also knew that there was only one way to dispel the power the cabin still held over her. She had to tell Kristin. She kissed her on both cheeks, then slid off Kristin’s body, keeping an arm slung around her waist.

“We mostly just call it fucking,” Sheryl said, knowing how blunt that sounded.

“How lovely.” Kristin was still smiling.

“We can hardly call it intercourse when that doesn’t apply to a big percentage of people.”

“So fucking is the politically correct way of calling it?”

“It sure is.” How was Sheryl even going to broach the subject? She couldn’t say something like that while they were lounging in bed—and, quite possibly, about to fuck again.

“I would never have guessed. Good thing I have you now to school me in all things PC.” Kristin ran her nails over Sheryl’s arm. “Good thing indeed.”

“How about some breakfast?” Sheryl asked.

Kristin shrugged. “Depends. Do I need to go outside and pick my own berries?” She clasped her fingers around Sheryl’s forearm. A sign Sheryl couldn’t—and didn’t want to—misinterpret.

“You are a princess here. You don’t have to do a thing.”

“I do hope that’s a declaration of intent for the rest of our affair.”

Sheryl chuckled while being very aware of the warmth spreading through her flesh at the mention of the rest of their affair. “I mean here, in this cabin only, of course.”

“I guess we’ll have to move here then once we—inevitably—move in together next month.”

Sheryl laughed out loud. There was a lightness to Kristin, not only to her physical body, but to her spirit, that drew her in. Perhaps it was the sort of lightness that came with living a charmed life, which for Sheryl, was a life with two parents who loved you and were there for you.

“I guess I’m more than you bargained for when you told me I was on the guest list for the LAUS party.” Kristin rolled on her side, facing Sheryl.

“So much more.” Sheryl kissed her on the tip of the nose. “You’re a true delight, the likes of which I haven’t encountered in a long while, maybe forever.”

“And you’re such a natural charmer.”

They kissed and Sheryl forgot about what she wanted to tell Kristin, though, of course, it was a thing she could never truly forget about, no matter how many delightful women she kissed.



Sheryl brewed coffee in the ancient coffeemaker. Surely it couldn’t be the same one that her mother had used when they came here together, but somehow her memories had blended together so that Sheryl believed it was. Her mother had pressed that button and the cabin had filled with the smell of coffee long before Sheryl had tasted it.

She watched the water drip slowly into the filter. Kristin was in the shower, giving Sheryl time to lay out breakfast and contemplate why she wanted to tell Kristin. Why it felt like a hurdle she needed to jump over in order for the relationship she wanted to have with Kristin to be true. Perhaps being surrounded by self-proclaimed truth speakers for most waking hours of her life hadn’t missed its effect.

“I like the smell of that.” Kristin walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her.

“And I like the sight of that.” Sheryl felt a tenderness wash over her. An inclination to move forward, not only physically—as in take a few steps into Kristin’s direction—but forward with everything. She made a pact with herself that, before she allowed herself to touch Kristin, whose freshly-showered body held so much appeal, again, she’d have to tell her. She’d have to give up this crucial part of her. She’d have to share her burden. She squared her shoulders, as though the mere act of doing so could chase away the breaking waves of lust in her blood. But they were forging a connection, a bond not easily broken.

“Come sit outside with me?” Sheryl asked. “The berries are picked and breakfast is ready.”

When they sat, side by side, overlooking the vista in the golden morning light, Sheryl was struck by the beauty of everything, as if the same view she’d seen a hundred times had suddenly amplified its attractiveness. She could also hear Caitlin's voice in her head: Oh, what pheromones can do to you.

“When I came here with my mother, she always sat right here, in this very chair,” Sheryl started. “When I was a child, I didn’t care much for the view. I was just running around between the trees, trying to get my mom to play with me, but she wasn’t really the playing type. She’d just sit here, smoking, watching over me.”