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"Of course you do," Gen said. "There are ninety degree inclines everywhere."
"Maybe it's what I have waiting at the top of the hill." Lyda crooked an arm around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss, surrounding Gen with the scent of sweaty woman. Thinking of how hard Lyda pushed her body and Dot's warning about arthritis, Gen decided she'd learn how to give Lyda massages. Rub lotion into every inch of her skin. Maybe she and Noah could take a class together so they could do it at the same time. There was plenty of that lithe body to share.
It was the thought a person had when she intended to be with someone for a long time. This weekend had made it easier to fall into that mode of thinking, the three of them working so well together, but vacations could be like that. The quick shadow in Noah's gaze at his grandmother's pointed comment warned against that. As did the other things Gen knew about Lyda--or didn't know, as the case might be. Take a boat out to her...
She realized then she hadn't been self-conscious about Lyda kissing her. True, it was just a press of lips to lips, not a knee-weakening tongue invasion, but it had been a lovers' kiss. Dorothy was pointing something out to Noah. She'd seen it, Gen was sure, but it didn't seem to offend her. Lyda's expression told Gen she'd noticed her lack of self-consciousness. And liked it.
Gen slid a finger along Lyda's collarbone, collecting perspiration. "I'm going to learn how to give massages," she said. "Then I can make your muscles feel better after your hard workouts. I'll also feed you ice cream."
Lyda gave her one of her sultry looks. She did a few more cool down circles around them at a trot, until Dorothy told her she was making her dizzy and Lyda dropped to a walk next to them.
It was one of the nicest trips Gen could remember having...ever.
*
Lyda took the wheel on the first leg of the return trip. Gen was in the front with her, Noah in the back, stretched out on the seat, sleeping. Gen turned on her hip to study him. He had his long legs bent, one foot braced on the floorboards, the other knee leaning against the seatback. His arm was over his eyes, the other loose across his chest. He hadn't taken many extra naps here, his sleep less disturbed. Except for last night.
About three a.m. she'd woken to find Lyda and her alone in the bed. When she'd lifted her upper body to peer over Lyda, she'd seen him through the window, sitting on the back porch swing in darkness. His head was tilted, listening to the evening sounds.
Making sure the covers were tucked around the soundly sleeping Lyda, Gen picked up his pillow and the throw at the end of the bed and took them out to the porch.
Noah studied her with his dark eyes, saying nothing, but he made room for her. She propped the pillow against his thigh, lay down on her hip. As he stroked her hair, she curled her hands around his thigh.
"You should be in bed," he murmured. "It's more comfortable."
"I want you to know I'm right here. We both are. Even if she sleeps like the dead."
"She always has," Noah glanced through the window, into the darkened room. "She says it's why she'd be a terrible mother."
"What do you think her mother was like?"
"I thought she might be like Lyda, terrifying, but I was wrong. She doesn't talk much about her family, but one time she said, 'I make them uncomfortable, because I'm so different.' She says they have the Christmas-card-once-a-year, contact-me-if-someone-dies kind of relationship."
"That's sad. But I get it." Gen couldn't say her relationship with her own mother was much different. Their phone calls usually petered out after ten minutes, and they'd started spending holidays separately back in her twenties.
They were three people without close family ties, and perhaps because all of them were aware of what they were missing, they sought it elsewhere. She grazed his chin, stroking the sandpaper stubble. "Whether she says it or not, or we mean it the same way, we love you, Noah."
Their eyes held forever, it seemed. Rather than struggling for the right thing to say, like she'd done the day at the guesthouse and chosen so wrongly, she let her feelings be guided by that penetrating look. Following the map it laid out inside her heart, she didn't analyze the words that came to her lips, just spoke them.
"You're a treasure. You're also a pain in the ass. You're beautiful, sexy, frustrating. You're sad, broken. Strong, amazing. All those things separated out might mean different things, but all together, woven into one special soul? That's a gift."
She touched his mouth again. "I don't want you to say anything. The words are for you. You do with them what you will. We'll simply love you."
Settling her head on his thigh again, she closed her eyes. After a time, he stroked her once more, his feet keeping the porch swing moving in a cradle rock. She fell asleep that way, vaguely aware of when he carried her back to bed, tucked her in between him and Lyda and curled close behind her.
Coming back to the present, Gen thought about how he was with them, with his grandmother, and how he'd reacted to Elias. Last night, the words she'd spoken had been pure feeling, but she knew they were right. What purpose they'd serve, she didn't know. But she hoped it was like looking at the concept for a collage, sorting through paper choices, seeing the picture form until that click moment when she knew how it was going to work.
The thought reminded her she had some magazines to flip through, but she turned back to Lyda, intending to ask if she wanted her to read an article, play some music or initiate conversation, doing her part as the person riding shotgun.
Instead, in a blink of the universe, she saw Lyda's expression change, her lips draw back, her body going rigid. Then she wrenched the wheel to the right.
The world exploded.
There was the impact, the flash of the car hitting them. The Escalade was spinning out of control, hitting the guard rail--oh God--going through the guard rail. The nose of the car dipped like at the top of a roller coaster.
Screaming, air pushing through the lungs...pain, crashing metal...Gen head hit something hard, blood in her eyes...
Please, no.
