Wake Me Up Inside

This is a slow burn like most of my LS stories, perhaps even slower than usual. So, if you're just looking for a bit of a happy romp before bedtime, better move on to something like my 'All I Want for Christmas C'est Toi'.

Big thanks to @THBGato for Beta reading and pointing out my cultural misconceptions, and to @DawnDuckie for reading and giving me a much-needed reality check on life in Small Town ND. Still, for the purposes of the story I've taken some poetic licenses, so all the wrong bits are mine, not theirs.

-----

++ Wake Me Up Inside ++

Bring me to life

I've been living a lie (bring me to life)

There's nothing inside (there's nothing inside)

Bring me to life

"Fucking dyke."

He muttered it under his breath, but I still heard it. As I was meant to.

I ignored him, like I ignored the looks and whispers and the slurs.

It was a classic bullying victim's survival tactic. Ignore them. Don't provoke them. Maybe they will tire of it and move on to other targets.

The problem was I knew it didn't work. Hell, I had a degree in counselling that said this shit didn't work.

I looked at Ellie at the register as I put my groceries on the belt. She looked at me with an awkward smile, like she was trying to wordlessly apologize for the abuse I had to endure in her presence.

It obviously wasn't her fault. Still, she just as obviously didn't like it.

But she just worked here, and the asshole that had just thrown his bigotry at me was her sister's father-in-law.

Fucking small town.

Every day I regretted moving back here.

But every day I was glad to be close to Dad. He probably didn't have long now, and he was all I had in the way of family.

Living in the nursing home now, just waiting to die.

The least I could do was be here for him.

And then there was the farm.

"How are you today, Olivia?" Ellie beeped the first items through, trying her best to act like I didn't just get a slur thrown at me.

I sighed. Not her fault her sister married an asshole with an even bigger asshole as a father.

"Pretty good, not too bad." I gave her a smile. It was nice to know that there were still people in this town that didn't think less of me for being true to myself. Ellie was one of the good ones.

She was younger than me by a year, a wallflower in high school, pretty and smart, but socially awkward.

I was neither pretty nor smart, but I had been a rebel, a handful, a nuisance, a problem causer. Trying to find my way in a world where there didn't seem to be anyone else like me and hitting walls at every turn.

'Argumentative, aggressive, seeking negative attention' was the written judgement in my file by the school counselor. As soon as I could, I ran away to college.

Ten years later I was still the 'fucking dyke' around here.

Small towns don't forget easily.

I guess that having an affair with a married woman over twice my age wouldn't go down well in a religious rural community.

Hell, I probably could have told myself that Pastor Anderson at the Lutheran Church would make a huge stink about it when he found out.

It was his wife I was fucking after all.

The last beep rang as Ellie passed me the apples. I was going to make some pie for my visit to Dad tomorrow.

I paid with my card and smiled at her.

"Thanks Ellie, see you Sunday."

"See you Olivia," her smile was genuine now, "have a good one."

"Thanks, you too."

I pushed open the door and strode to my truck with my bag of groceries. I dug for the keys in my pocket before realizing I had left them in the ignition. Funny how quickly you fall into old habits without thinking, leaving keys dangling in ignitions and front doors unlocked, just like folks had always done around here, trusting neighbors more than locks.

It was early April, the prairie finally waking from months of frozen slumber. I was grateful winter's bitter grip had loosened, even if the North Dakota wind still had teeth some mornings. After nearly a decade living in a warmer climate, I had lost all enthusiasm for below zero temperatures.

This wasn't New Mexico, for sure.

---

The drive out to our house was long enough for me to get through three Billie Eilish songs. As I hummed the last bars of All the Good Girls Go to Hell, I turned the corner around the barns and the old farmhouse came into view. It wasn't very big by any standards, a comfortable two-storied house with a wide porch and a second-floor gallery above it. It faced east, and my Dad used to start many summer mornings out on that porch with his coffee, watching the sunrise.

I had a lot of fond memories of him on that porch. We often sat there together, watching the colors creep over the landscape and the light claim our land,

It became our thing after I couldn't sleep and found him there the morning after mom was buried. Just sitting there with his coffee, quietly mourning. I was only ten, and that was the first time I really understood how much he had loved her.

As I sat with him on the bench beside the front door, he silently gathered me close, and pointed towards where the first rays of the sun were blazing up over the horizon, bathing the world in warmth and light.

"See that, Liv? That's your mom, looking out for us. Making sure we're not alone."

I remember looking at the sun, and deep down I knew that it wasn't my mom. But I also knew that my Dad was right, it was her, and she was looking out for us.

And from that day on, that was our time and place, the spot where we could sit silently together and remember her or say whatever needed to be said without anger or judgement. In the winter we sat at the kitchen window, waiting for the darkness to flee.

I was fourteen when I told him I liked girls, out on that porch.

He just told me that was ok and that he loved me and that would never change.

I was never an easy teen, and I had it rough in high school. I never showed any interest in boys and my one try at kissing a girl was a fumble that bought me three years of being bullied, called a dyke, muff diver, rug muncher and worse, and generally being ostracized.

But I was stubborn, and I didn't take it lying down. If they wanted a dyke, I'd give them a fucking dyke. I cut my hair short, shaved on one side and swept over the other, dyed it in crazy colors, bought a used leather jacket, wore men's tank tops, braless and butched up in black skinny jeans and Air Force surplus flight boots. I became an over-the-top cliché.

I came out fighting, screaming my sexuality to the whole school, blatantly hitting on girls I knew had no interest and proceeded to be argumentative, aggressive and generally seeking negative attention wherever I could find some.

I never said that the school counselor got it wrong. I was an angry mess.

But whatever trouble I got myself into, my Dad was always on my side. Always in my corner.

He understood that I was acting this way because I was hurting. That it was a defense mechanism, and that behind the angry mask of the fights I picked with others, I was just a scared girl fighting myself. And on those quiet mornings, he asked me how I was, if he could help.

And I could talk to him. Tell him about all the shit.

Well, most of the shit. No teenager tells their parents all the shit that's going on in their lives.

My Dad was my rock. My one safe haven in a world that didn't understand me.

When he got sick, I had to come back.

I had tried to get him to move to New Mexico, but he said he didn't want to die in an unfamiliar place, far away from everything he knew. I understood. I was single after another inevitable break up and I had been thinking of changing jobs anyway.

So here I was.

Home sweet home.

---

Monday morning was crisp, it wasn't exactly warm yet, but a hell of a lot better than when I got here just after New Years. We kept the truck in the barn during the winter so I didn't have to brush the snow off it or scrape the windows, but I did have to plow our own driveway with the tractor.

I had leased the land and most of our equipment out to our neighbors, but for that tractor. I couldn't imagine selling the farm, and this way I could live there and make some money from the lease to pay for Dad's care.

Not that there was any real treatment for MND. The best they could do was keep him comfortable. When I got here, he was still moving around, but now he was in a wheelchair and was starting to have difficulty swallowing food. This fucking disease was an ugly fast mover. The doctors told me I should expect it to be all over before Christmas.

It broke my heart to see him like this, and even if I had only seen him once or twice a year during holidays since I went off to college, we had talked every week all those years.

I dreaded losing him. Nothing had ever made me so scared.

I didn't know what I'd do when he was gone.

I'd probably move back to Albuquerque. Maybe sell the land to the Johnsons if they would let me keep the house. I didn't know.

I just knew that once he was gone, there would be nothing left for me here but pain.

I parked the truck and walked to my office.

The bell rang for the start of the first period when I was halfway there.

It was some kind of cosmic joke that I now sat on the other side of that same desk in that same counselor's office, that I had first put my boots on fourteen years ago.

One of the older teachers, who remembered my troubled days at Maple Creek High, had called it 'poetic justice' with a good-natured smirk. Colin 'Murdermath' Murdoch was still a nice guy, one of the few that had recognized that when a teacher starts fucking a student, something isn't right when the whole town blames the student.

Elizabeth Anderson wasn't teaching anymore, but she had never had to answer for her sins, so to speak, in any official way.

To be fair it had started after my 18th birthday, and after graduation, but only just. And it wasn't me who seduced her. I guess Mrs. Pastor Anderson wasn't altogether satisfied by her husband's performance of his sacred duties.

She never had any trouble finding God with me though, bless her heart.

I didn't bear her any ill will. She had just been there when I was bursting at the seams with the need for a sexual outlet, and I guess I had provided something similar for her. It wasn't a relationship, I didn't love her, but was desperate to explore my sexuality, and being an outcast at school the chances of making that happen with my peers seemed nonexistent.

For me it was about not going to college as a virgin. I don't know what it was about for her. I had my suspicions though.

I hadn't talked to her since her sister-in-law found us naked on the living room couch, with my tongue buried in her pussy. She was outraged, practically foaming at the mouth, and she made sure the whole town knew that I was a whore that had seduced her brother's poor innocent wife.

And that had cemented me as the Town Dyke.

I didn't blame Elizabeth for what happened. I went to her bed willingly, and despite the fallout I didn't regret it.

It took me a few years to understand why I didn't regret it though.

She had given me my first sexual experience, soft, tender and loving, very unlike the rough fucking my angry rebel imagination had expected my first sex to be. She had shown me that lovemaking between women could be something else entirely. Something beautiful.

Deep down, I knew that of course, but that experience was in a way the first step on my way to making peace with who I was.

What I could not forgive her for, was not speaking up when her husband and sister-in-law trash talked me all over town. My Dad even had to listen to a thinly veiled sermon on the sins of Jezebel and modern-day immorality at church one Sunday a few weeks later. He never went to the Lutheran Church again while Pastor Anderson was in office. And although he never said anything to me about it, I knew that he had gone to their house that night and given them a strong piece of his mind.

It made them stop overtly harassing me, but the damage was done. A reputation like that dies hard in a small town.

The Andersons still lived in town, but there was a new pastor here now, a younger guy who seemed to be well liked. I wasn't exactly the church going type, so I hadn't met him yet.

I had seen Elizabeth from afar two or three times, but I wasn't sure she had recognized me. I looked very different now from the skinny, punky rebel she took to her bed. I had dark shoulder length hair and bangs now, and ten years of New Mexico cooking and better mental health had given me the curvy figure my scrawny ass teen self had once dreamed of.

Then again, maybe Elizabeth was just ignoring me. That suited me fine. I sure as hell wasn't going to give the gossips the pleasure of being seen chatting with her.

I closed my office door on the flow of kids finding their way to their homerooms, knowing I could get a bit of time to prepare for my first interview of the day, due in the second period. Robert, a junior jock not doing well with his science grades. He was a sweet kid, trying hard but just not getting there. He was coming in with his parents and I was going to recommend that he get tutoring and a bi-weekly counselling interview with me.

I suspected that he needed to get some things off his chest that he wasn't going to tell his parents, but it would probably take some time before he trusted me with his problems.

Next up would be Danny. He was one of my regulars: the goal there was to get him to stop acting out at school to get his problems at home out of his system. Absent mother, alcoholic father. Not a very original story. Danny hated counselling and he was warming to me like the North Dakota winter. Oh well, maybe he'd come 'round once he figured out that I wasn't going to give up on him.

It was weird to be working in my old high school. The chairs on the other side of my desk were even the same ones where I had regularly planted my ass in defiantly all those years ago. When I looked at them, I could picture a sneering kid with one side of her hair shaved close, a home pierced eyebrow, an attitude the size of Montana and her big flight boots resting angrily on the edge of my desk.

It was like being on the other side of a surreal ghostly mirror, looking back in time.

I hadn't come looking for this job, but the chronic shortage of teachers here worked in my favor. The position was open when I was preparing to move back here before Christmas and I had both the degree and the experience working with troubled kids.

My Dad used to say I was going to be good at it because I already knew what it was like to be one. He wasn't wrong: it helped. It was probably why I had gone into this line of work.

The principal hired me even though I gave her a clear heads up that some of the parents might have issues with my orientation and my history.              

And I wasn't into the job two weeks when some of the people on the local school board took issue with my hiring and sent a delegation to Principal Stewart to protest, demanding that I be replaced.

She told them that if they forced her to let me go, given there was a well-known staff shortage and no other applicants for the position, she would have no choice but to explain to the parents in general why their children had no one to turn to when they got in trouble at school. She would explain that their children were going to be at a disadvantage because the school board was pursuing a personal vendetta against the highly qualified, highly recommended professional counsellor that was currently doing a great job working with their kids.

I blushed when she told me all this, incredibly thankful that she took my side so strongly. She was proud to have made them back off, but I suspected that they wouldn't let it lie. Mostly because I knew one of them was Rebecca Anderson, Elizabeth's bitch sister-in-law.

---

Dad was awake. Sometimes he'd sit sleeping in his chair when I came to visit. I would sit and watch him sleep, wondering how he could look so old and frail. He wasn't even sixty yet, but he looked ten years older.

"Hi Dad."

"Hi honey."

I gave him a kiss and a hug and sat down on the sofa. It was a good nursing home, all things considered, the room was big enough for some furniture, he had pictures of mom and me on his nightstand, of the farm on the wall and some books and things.

His speech had started to slur a little and the hard consonants were weak.

"Good day?" He always asked.

"Yeah, not too bad. I brought you some apple pie."

I got the pie out of the bag and got some plates and forks.

"How was your day?"

"Oh, you know, another busy day of sitting," he chuckled, earning himself a little cough.

Despite all the horrors of his sickness, he had never lost his good humor. At least, he never showed me anything else. I thought he must have moments of despair, but he kept them to himself.

"I went to the Johnsons for dinner last night, Alvin and Marjorie said they're coming to visit you on Sunday. Marjorie said to leave space at lunch because she's bringing cake."

Dad laughed; we were both well acquainted with Marjorie's 'cakes'. Huge things, packed with sugar and berries and held together with whipped cream.

"Alvin's already out seeding spring wheat over in section 20, rotating out last year's sunflowers. He says the soil's rested enough, it should yield pretty good. He's thinking of changing the rotation in the main and west sections over to lentils next year. There's a good market for lentils building and it will rest the soil well after the wheat. He might use section 28 and 29 for soy though."

"That makes sense. Alvin knows what he's doing. He'll take good care of the land."

Dad liked to know that his friend and neighbor would continue his life's work.

I cut a piece of apple pie and put the plate on the table beside his chair. His hands were weak and shaking, so even if he could still hold a fork it was hard for him to eat by himself.

His smile as I gave him the first bite warmed my heart.

"Mmmm, that is my favorite pie." He had another bite and closed his eyes as he enjoyed it.

"It always reminds me of your mom, you know?"

I knew. That's why I made it for him.

"I know Dad. Me too."

And for a while, we just sat there quietly together, silently enjoying the taste of good memories.

---

I got home around dinnertime. I left the truck on the gravel in front of the barn and hurried in through the light rain.

I popped the frozen lasagna into the oven and climbed the stairs to my room. I still slept there, something just felt wrong about moving into the master bedroom before Dad...

Yeah.

So, I had just cleaned out some space in my old wardrobe and moved back into my rebel years sanctuary.

My huge old Evanescence placard still dominated the room, Amy Lee's haunting eyes staring down from it.

Fallen was the soundtrack of my pain. Going under, Everybody's Fool, Bring Me to Life, My Immortal. I must have listened to that album a million times back then.

Even now, whenever I heard it, the sublime piano of Hello and the heartbreaking lyrics still accosted my soul like a familiar demon, reaching out for the black pit that it used to feed. The pit that I still carried somewhere buried deep inside.

Ten years, a university degree and a few relationships later, I could look at Amy on my wall without falling into that pit. Even if she brought back difficult memories, she also reminded me of how far I had come. And I guess I still had a little crush on her.

I stripped down to my panties under her familiar stare and pulled my Joe Boxers up over them, my clothes ending up in the usual heap on the chair. I grabbed a tank top from my bed and skipped down the stairs again, rubbing the underside of my bouncing tits, sore from the bra as usual.

I tidied up the kitchen a bit, and when the oven dinged, I put on the tank top and sat down to eat, reading on my phone.

Frozen lasagna, ketchup and milk.

There were probably Italians somewhere having heart attacks because of my eating habits, but I always regressed into a ketchup monster when I got back home.

Home.

I still thought of this place as home, although I'd been living in Albuquerque since I was nineteen. Breakfast burritos and Carne Adovada were more my style now than meat and potatoes and cabbage from my mom's old vegetable garden. I still had my apartment in Silver Hill, rented out for the year now, but as long as Dad was here, here was home. I curled up under a blanket on the couch after dinner. My book was fun, my white wine was chilled, and the fire was warm.

This place, this house, held a lot of difficult and painful memories for me, but also a lot of good ones. And right now, alone with my thoughts, under a blanket in front of the fireplace, I felt more at peace here than I had for a long time.

---

"So, what are you bringing for the bake sale on Sunday Olivia? I hear you make a mean apple pie."

I smiled.

"I think it will have to be apple pie Colin; it's my mom's recipe and the only thing I can bake that isn't a disaster."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, been there, done that. Ellen doesn't let me into the kitchen anymore. She'll be doing the baking for Sunday for us, she says she won't take the chance of the whole town getting food poisoning."

There was general laughter around our table in the teacher's lounge. Everyone knew that Murdoch probably hadn't cooked or baked an edible thing in his life. His wife Ellen was a powerhouse in most of the town's charities, baking up a storm every time there was a donation drive or something to celebrate.

This time it was a bake sale for the Lutheran church youth program, and Murdoch had twisted my arm to participate. I suspected that it was part of principal Stewart's plan to integrate me better into the community, both to increase the odds of keeping me on for next winter, but also to make it harder for the school board bigots to gain traction against me.

I had to agree it was a good strategy, so I went along with it.

I hadn't been to the Lutheran church in well over a decade and it scared me. There were going to be a lot of old faces there, carrying old grudges.

It might get very awkward, it might get ugly, but the stubborn rebel in me refused to back down and be silenced.

It was a chance to show the assholes that they held no power over me anymore. If I showed them, I might just start to believe it myself.

There would be friendly faces there as well. Murdock and Ellen, Ellie, principal Stewart and a few of the teaching staff. The Junior class each year was drafted to the cause so there would be some of the kids I knew as well. The Johnsons and some of my Dad's old friends. I wasn't friendless here, it only felt that way sometimes. I had burned a lot of bridges when it came to my former classmates and others who knew me in high school, so I didn't have any close friends my age. Some of them probably still hated me.

Pamela popped into my mind unbidden. I shook her memory off.

"You'll be fine." Colin's hand patted my shoulder as he picked up his cup of coffee with a friendly smile as the bell rang.

I smiled back at him. I guess some of my sadness and anxiety had been showing in my face. I knew I had allies here. Harper Michaels and some of the other younger teachers were from out of state and couldn't care less that I was a lesbian. They had obviously all heard the stories about my rebel years at the school when I arrived at the job but seemed more impressed than anything else that I was back.

Still, it's true what they say about small town reputations; once it sticks, you can't unstick it. And with most of the people in this town, mine was as sticky as it gets.

I got up and walked the busy halls to my office to meet Carol Benson, a newly arrived sophomore having problems fitting in, already being singled out by the popular crowd for reasons unknown.

I sighed.

Some things never changed.

---

Just after the final bell on Thursday, I was putting together a plan for next week when there was a knock on the open door. A tall girl with long blonde hair and a backpack on her shoulder stood in the doorway.

"Ms. Meyer?" she said, hesitantly.

"Yes? Please, come in."

She looked like she was about to change her mind but then stepped inside and closed the door. She took the bag off her shoulder and sat down.

"Hi, I don't think I've seen you in here before, you're in Ms. Morgan's homeroom, right? A Junior? What's your name?"

"Yeah. Uhm, it's Jenny. Jenny Olson."

"Nice to meet you, Jenny. Would you like some water?" I poured her a glass from the pitcher on the desk. She didn't say anything.

"So, Jenny, how can I help you?"

She was sitting on the edge of the chair, holding her bag on her knees like it was a protective wall. Something was bothering this girl.

The silence stretched on. I waited for her to be ready. It was sometimes best to say nothing and let them find their own way to explain the problem, whatever it was.

„Uhm... "

She was looking around, like she was avoiding meeting my eyes.

"... Is it true Ms. Meyer?"

"Is what true Jenny?"

She blushed and for a second, she looked scared. Then she looked at her fingers, fidgeting with the zipper on her backpack. I waited patiently, waiting for her to fill the silence.

"Uhm... is it true... that you're... a lesbian?"

My hackles rose instantly, my tried and tested walls going up, and I almost told her instinctively that this was personal and none of her business.

But something made me hesitate. The tension in her shoulders, her obvious anxiety at asking the question.

Oh, God. She wasn't being intrusive; she was being brave.

I took a calming breath.

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

She looked up at me, anxious, her inner struggle suddenly written all over her face, and all but whispered.

"How do you know?"

I suddenly felt my younger self staring at me from her questioning eyes, pleading for help.

"Oh, Jenny... you..."

I was going to say something about how she could trust me, but something in those eyes told me she really needed an answer to that question. Something she could connect with.

"Well... I know because... I just feel it. It's not easy to explain..."

How do you explain how you know who you are?

"Like... When I imagine myself having a family with someone I love, it's always a woman that I see... her hand in mine, her ring on my finger."

I took a deep breath. She was hanging on my every word.

"I know because of the silly, exciting butterflies I get in my stomach when I think of having a romantic date with a woman I like, sitting across the table from her at dinner, laughing with her, looking into her eyes. And I know because I never feel those same butterflies when I think of men."

Jenny was listening, looking tense. An immense feeling of heavy responsibility gripped me like a vice. Please God, let me do this right.

A painful old memory of sitting in class, trying not to stare at my friend Pamela's pretty eyes and cute lips pushed into my mind. It still hurt, after all these years.

So, I looked into Jenny's searching eyes, and stripped bare my deepest wound in the hope that I could help her.

"I know because I remember, back in high school, looking at my best friend and wondering what it would feel like to kiss her. Having feelings for her that I wasn't sure were true... or even allowed. Lying awake at night thinking about how beautiful her eyes were, and how happy I felt when I made her laugh. And because of how very right it felt when I finally gathered the courage to kiss her."

I fought to keep my voice from shaking and stopped. This poor girl didn't need to know how those three seconds of bliss had lost me my friend and wrecked my life.

She was looking down at her fidgeting fingers now, but there was less tension in her body language. I gave her a few seconds to digest and then continued.

"Jenny, I want you to know that you can trust me. Everything we talk about here is kept in complete confidence. I will not tell anyone anything about what you choose to share with me unless you want me to, okay? Not even your parents."

She just nodded.

"Jenny, can you look at me, please?" She did. There was uncertainty in her eyes.

"I know what it's like to have someone break your trust about something important and very personal. I would never do that to you. Do you believe me?"

She searched my eyes for a second and then nodded, hugging her backpack to her chest in a defensive position. Her inner wrestling was obvious now.

This was going to be 50/50, but I had to try. I was sure now why she had come to me. I lowered my voice and opened my palms on the table.

"Jenny... is there something you want to tell me, in confidence?"

And then I waited. Gave her time. Hoping she would trust me with what she was wrestling with.

"I..." She began and stopped. She took a deep breath and looked me in the eye, clearly on the verge of tears.

"I... I'm... a lesbian."

And then she couldn't control her tears any longer. I breathed again.

I cursed the stupid table, stepped around it to her side and sat in the other chair, turning it so I was facing her. I reached for her hands and squeezed them, letting her know she wasn't alone.

"Jenny, that's okay. It's going to be okay."

She got the tears under control, sniffling a bit at the end. It was more like a pent up emotional release than a proper cry. I gave her a smile that I hoped looked sincere and encouraging.

"Thank you for sharing that with me Jenny. That was very brave. I'm very proud of you."

She let go of my hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Was that the first time you've told someone?"

She nodded. Her eyes were still red, but the tension was gone from her shoulders.

I was still on edge a little. There were still many tough moments waiting for her. But she had taken the first step.

"Did it feel good, saying it out loud to someone?"

And in one of the most beautiful moments of my life, her face opened with a genuine smile, and I could literally see her relief of not having to carry her secret alone anymore.

"Yes."

She felt it. She knew she had spoken her truth. It's strange how you can think that something you have said over and over in your mind might be an illusion, but once you say it out loud to someone, you can finally feel the real truth in it.

"Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Jenny, I really am. I know it's not easy, and I'm very proud that you chose me to trust with who you are. I promise you I will try to help you as much as I can. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Thank you, Ms. Meyer."

We talked for a while, mostly me asking about her friends, her family, if she felt she could trust them with this. She wasn't ready for that. She was scared of telling her family, she was afraid of how her friends would react and of the whole school learning her secret. I couldn't blame her, although I was careful not to give any hints about my own experience.

I gave her some good sources for lesbian and LGBTQ+ information and as she stood to leave an hour later, I told her she could come talk to me anytime she needed.

When she was at the door, she turned around to thank me again.

"You're welcome, Jenny, I'm just happy to help." And then I couldn't resist.

"Welcome to the club. It's going to be ok."

And she smiled back at me.

Her secret was our secret now. An hour ago we were both alone, but in that hour or so, we had become a tiny lesbian sisterhood in a town full of straight people.

She was still smiling when I closed the door behind her.

I turned and sat down in one of the old chairs.

And all the conflicting emotions that I had been holding at bay came crashing over me, and I broke down crying.

---

Sunday came, and my apple pies would soon be ready.

I wasn't. Not by a long shot.

My conversation with Jenny had stirred up emotions that I had carefully buried. When I woke up very early on Sunday morning, Amy's stare from the wall was somehow even more piercing than usual.

I put on a coat and took my coffee out on the porch bench, watching the sunrise bring color and light to the land and the warm memory of mom to my heart.

Maybe it would all have been easier for me if she had been there when I needed her most. I would never know, but what I could do was to face the world now as I thought she would have, with grace and kindness, and standing up for what she believed in.

So, I tossed back the last of my coffee and got to baking.

Four hours later, ten delicious golden crusted apple pies sat on my kitchen table and countertops, ready to sell. I was pretty pleased with myself.

At lunchtime I packed them carefully into the truck and drove to the church.

The weather was nice and the tables arranged on the grassy church grounds were already decorated and filling up with goods. I parked the truck and carried the first box of pies towards the Murdochs, where Ellen had saved me a spot.

I was relieved to be close to some friendly faces, as I walked back to the truck and took account of who was there.

Ellie's sister Helen and her husband Danny, both a year older than me, manned a table piled high with honey from their family farm. Danny's mom glared at me and muttered something to her husband, no doubt in the same vein as the slur she threw at me at the store last weekend.

I saw some of my high school classmates, with families now, their kids running around the tables. None of them were anyone I had any interest in talking to, and they would probably ignore me too.

Surprisingly, some of them came over to look at my pies, say hi and introduce their kids. I was new in town, well a recently returned face anyway, and it seemed some at least didn't remember me with complete horror. That felt nice.

I didn't see Rebecca Anderson, a small mercy, but some of the other school board members were there.

No one accosted me in any way, but I could feel the looks, see the whispering.

I got the rest of the pies from the truck and walked back to my spot at the tables, my head held high. I was not going to give these people the satisfaction of seeing my anxiety.

The junior class had a long table opposite ours, and they had done well. An assortment of cakes and foods sat on their table, and a steady stream of kids added to it.

I could see Jenny standing over there with a group of friends, talking and laughing. She was touching another girl's elbow as they joked, leaning towards her a little, looking at her just a little more than the others.

Oh, honey.

"Penny for your thoughts." Colin was looking at me smiling. I smiled back.

"Oh, nothing. All this just brings up some memories."

He nodded.

"I can imagine." He looked thoughtful. "You're doing a good job, you know. The kids respect you."

I think I must have looked skeptical.

"I mean it, Olivia. Of course, there's some that have issues with... uhm, who you are... you know how fast the school gossip machine works. But word has got out that the kids you've been seeing trust you."

That was very nice to hear.

"So yeah. We're lucky to have you, Olivia. I hope you know that."

There was a lump in my throat now.

"Thank you, Colin, that's very nice of you to say. I needed that."

"Well, you're welcome, and it's not just me. There's many of us at the school who feel that way. Not least those of us who knew you way back when."

I felt all warm inside. I really needed that boost in confidence right now. Good old 'Murdermath' gave me a wink and turned to talk to his wife.

"Hi, how are you Ellen, Colin, so nice to see you. Thanks for helping us today."

A woman stood in front of Ellen, greeting her and shaking hands with Colin. She was tall and poised, around my age, with strawberry blonde hair in a thick French braid at the back. Her slim figure was mostly hidden by a light green jacket, but her jeans stretched beautifully over her curvy hips.

"Hello Margaret, you know us, always happy to help." Ellen looked at me. "Have you met Olivia Meyer? She works with Colin; she's the new student counsellor. Olivia, Margaret is the organizer here."

Margaret looked at me, took a step closer and reached out her hand. Her eyes were watery blue and full of joy, and her radiant smile hit me like a heat wave.

My knees went weak.

"Ms. Meyer, so nice to meet you at last! Anna Stewart tells me you're doing a wonderful job. I'm Margaret Hanson."

My mouth was dry as I took her warm hand.

"Uh, hi. Please, call me Olivia. Nice to meet you too."

God she was beautiful. I couldn't remember feeling such a strong attraction to a woman since... I don't know... since Pam.

The butterflies filled my tummy and threatened to take over my whole body. I wanted her. I wanted to kiss her; smell her hair... sleep with her... I wanted to get to know her. No needed, I needed to get to know her.

I could feel myself blushing, my cheeks and ears getting warm. Oh fuck, I couldn't let her notice. Shit.

I looked down at my pies and suddenly felt they were too average for her. Not good enough. She deserved better pies.

Jesus, what a stupid feeling. They were awesome. I picked one up and offered it to her with the best smile I could muster.

"Apple Pie Ms. Hanson? They're my mother's recipe. Best pie North of Normal."

"Oh, they look delicious, so perfectly golden! Yes, I'll take one, thank you. Will you save it for me to pick up later?"

"Of course."

That beautiful smile glowed like the sun, making my butterflies flutter even faster.

"Thank you, I look forward to having a piece after dinner tonight. Please excuse me, I need to go thank the kids. I think they may have outdone themselves this year."

I nearly gave a stupid little wave and totally forgot to hide my stare at her shapely ass flexing and bouncing as she made her way across the grass to the junior class's table.

I was smitten. My heart was thumping, and I had actual goosebumps.

Oh God, I didn't need this now. Not here.

But fuck how I needed her.

I tried to calm down and concentrate on getting my pies bought.

Over the next two hours people came and went, my pies sold one by one, and I had some nice conversations with the buyers. Some of them took the chance of welcoming me back home, others were just polite and then moved on. All in all it was better than I expected.

The whole time I shot covert glances at Margaret, admiring her, drinking up what I could of her elegant beauty. I stole some looks at her hot ass, but mostly it was her amazing face and just the way that she carried herself that made my breath quicken each time I got a good look at her.

"You have some nerve showing your face here!"

The angry voice startled me, making my heart jump to my throat and my muscles stiffen. Fuck.

Rebecca Anderson stood in front of me, glaring.

There was ice in my stomach now. I stood ramrod straight and gave her a cool, neutral look. No one would be able to say I did anything to provoke her.

"Hello Mrs. Anderson. Can I interest you in some apple pie?"

She looked like I had offered her some nice warm shit, fresh out of my ass.

"I wouldn't want your pie if it was free!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, have a nice day Mrs. Anderson."

"It was until you showed up!"

For a second I thought she was going to spit on my pies, or maybe even me, but Ellen stepped in to save me.

"Rebecca, I've got some more cakes in the church, would you help me carry them out please?"

I breathed slowly trying to calm myself as she walked after Ellen with her nose in the air. I heard her say something about me and the school to Ellen, who looked like she was brushing it off.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see people staring. She had been loud. Making sure people heard her. And that those who weren't here would hear about it.

I wasn't surprised. I knew something like this would happen today. That didn't make it feel any less painful though. I was shaking.

"Don't listen to her Olivia, she's always been vindictive." Colin was upset.

I gave him a curt nod.

"Yeah. Thanks. Don't worry about it."

And then suddenly Margaret came gliding towards me, worry clouding her face.

"I'm so sorry Olivia; I couldn't help overhearing. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Nothing I haven't heard before."

"Well, I'm sorry all the same. I can't imagine what Rebecca could have against you that would make her say that."

I raised my eyebrows.

"You don't know?"

"No, of course not."

Now, there was a pleasant surprise. I looked into her sincere eyes and saw nothing but genuine interest and worry. Behind her, people were looking our way.

I sighed.

"Well, you will soon enough." I tried to push away my sadness at the certainty of her learning all about my evil homewrecking rug munching ways from Rebecca Anderson and her flock of haters.

I gave her the warmest smile I could muster.

"You ready for that apple pie now Ms. Hanson?"

She looked at me curiously.

"Well, yes. I am. I see you have two left. Could I perhaps have both of them? They look so delicious."

Her voice was a little louder than it had to be, her back straight and her smile beaming.

Oh, I loved her. She was giving me a graceful exit, making everyone see that she had no qualms about eating my pie.

My face went red and warm again as the double meaning of that thought settled in my brain, with dirty pictures to go with it.

"Of course, my pleasure" I managed.

She paid, and took her pies, thanking me a little too enthusiastically with a kiss on the cheek over the narrow table, like we were old friends.

Her skin smelled of exotic fruits, and the brief touch of her cheek was oh, so soft against mine.

When she disappeared inside the church, I realized I'd been staring again. I wanted her so much my heart ached.

I suddenly remembered my conversation with Jenny.

This.

This was how I knew.

My body, my soul, my whole being yearned for this woman. Ached for her touch, her smile, her laugh. Longed for a connection with her soul. Craved the alluring curves of her body.

As I packed up my boxes she came down the church steps again, walking to meet a man coming up from the parking lot. She met him on the grass right in front of our table, hugged him and they shared a small kiss.

My mood fell.

Of course. Her husband no doubt.

Well. At least I had a new friend.

A friend I would just have to lust after in secret, once again. Nothing new there.

The wicked thought of her perhaps secretly lusting after me back shot through my mind.

I slapped it down. Nothing good could come of me getting my hopes up on that.

And then she took his hand and they came towards me.

"Olivia, I want you to meet my husband, Andrew. Andrew, Olivia Meyer is the counselor at the high school."

He smiled and offered his hand. I took it, and all hopes of ever having anything more than a prim and proper friendship with his gorgeous wife evaporated in an instant as I realized who he was.

"Hi, so nice to meet you Ms. Meyer. I'm Pastor Hanson."

---

The ceiling in my room was the same off-white color it had always been. It didn't matter how long I stared at it, it never changed.

Through the years it had provided a background for both daydreaming and despair. Now I was lying in my bed once again, and a mix of both played out in my mind as my eyes stared unfocused on the ceiling.

I couldn't get Margaret Hanson out of my head.

I had tried.

I tried on the drive back home; I tried while cooking and eating a bacon and egg chokecherry jelly sandwich; I tried while making an attempt at reading my book by the fire; I tried while taking a shower before bed.

I failed.

Her eyes watched me from the rear-view mirror, her soft exotic body spray interlaced with the smell of bacon, her bright, happy voice spoke to me between the lines of my book, her enticing body haunted my shower.

My skin tingled under the covers, the touch of the material reminding me of my nudity with each little movement.

Thighs opening, hands moving, nipples brushing the cotton.

Fingers slowly dancing.

Imagining the warmth of her lips, the feel of that braid in my palm, the push of her breasts to mine.

That hot, curvy ass.

Her tongue tasting my pie.

The orgasm hit me like a truck. Fast. Hard. Loud.

As I lay panting, the reality of my hopeless crush settled on my mind.

Ah. There it was.

My old friend, Despair.

She was the Pastor's wife. Even if I just made friends with her, people would talk.

And I knew exactly what they would talk about.

The town dyke who had a taste for Pastor's wives. That was one juicy story.

I couldn't do that. Not again.

And she didn't deserve that. They would aim it at me, but her reputation would be collateral damage.

So, I stared at the ceiling and tried harder.

---

Eggs, bacon, milk, cereal. Some frozen dinners.

Apples.

A shopping basket for one.

Ellie was at the register as usual.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"Good thanks, you?"

"Yeah, not too bad." She smiled. "Going to Bismarck for the weekend with Bradley."

"Oooh romantic! So, you guys are getting serious?"

She blushed a bashful smile. It was cute. I was happy that she had finally found love.

"Yeah, it's really good."

"Well don't do anything I wouldn't do." I gave her a conspiratorial wink.

She blushed even harder.

I turned to say goodbye on my way out and walked straight into someone, dropping the groceries bag.

"Oh fuck! I'm sorry! I wasn't..."

Margaret Hansen recovered from the collision.

"... looking."

"No, don't worry about it, no harm done."

She was rubbing her jaw.

"Oh fuck, I mean, darn! I mean... are you ok?"

My forehead was sore. Her jaw must hurt.

"Yes, don't worry. I'm not fragile. Oh, your apples!"

Shit. They were starting to roll down the street. We both bent down to grab them. Her hand landed on top of mine as I got the first one.

For a second it seemed that time slowed down as I savored the softness of her warm fingers.

As we stood, she gave me the apples she got. Our fingers brushed again.

I forced down the electric feeling I got from that touch.

Her smile was wide now.

"More pies?"

I couldn't help a nervous giggle and fixed an errant lock behind my ear.

"Yes, I bring my Dad a pie every now and then. He's in the nursing home in Harvey, so I try to bring him something when I visit."

"Oh, that's nice. I bet he appreciates that. Has he lived there long?"

"Just a few months now. He... has MND."

Her face clouded over

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Her hand touched my elbow.

"Thank you. He's still holding on, but it's progressing fast."

"It's a terrible disease, I'm so sorry. Please tell me if I can do anything to help."

She looked so sincere, so caring. Beautiful.

"Thanks, that's very generous of you, but we're doing okay."

I looked down.

"Well, I'll get going. That pie won't bake itself."

I groaned inwardly at my terrible conversation skills.

She was graceful enough to give a little laugh at my stupid attempt at humor.

I started to turn away, ready to say goodbye. She touched my arm again.

"Olivia, I'd love to have a chat if you're up for it. Maybe Saturday?"

Shit.

It would be rude to say no. But I couldn't say yes.

Could I?

"Yeah, I'd love that."

Her smile lit up.

"Great! My place or yours?"

That question made me blush automatically. I fixed my hair again.

I didn't want to be seen going to her house. She didn't need that.

"How about my place, around four? I'll make pie."

"Excellent. It's a date." She gave a little wave and turned away. "See you Saturday."

It's a date.

I flew home on the fluttering wings of butterflies, pushing down the lump of dread that kept trying to remind me that I really, really shouldn't do this.

---

The conversation with Jenny gave me courage. If she was here, there might be others.

Statistically speaking, there had to be others.

I walked into the cafeteria during lunch hour on Friday, holding the ads. Students were talking, laughing, the usual lunchtime bustle.

Back in Albuquerque this would have been a lot easier.

But this was my old high school. This was where I had fought daily battles for my right to exist for three years.

I was shaking.

I walked straight to the bulletin wall and, as calmly as possible I put the large ad up. Simple but colorful, it announced the first meeting of Maple Creek High's Queer-Straight Alliance.

I would have loved to go with 'Pride Club' but this was more open to potential allies and kids that didn't want to be labeled gay just for attending.

The ad just outlined the name and the purpose to promote knowledge and understanding of LGBTQ+ issues and strengthen the school spirit of equality.

Simple words that carried a huge personal weight for me.

Underneath there was a QR code for information on the school web page about the QSA I had cleared with Principal Stewart, and the time and location of the first meeting.

'School library, Wednesday after final bell.

An introduction to LGBTQ+

Everyone is Welcome.'

As I walked away from the board, I heard the first kids starting to notice the ad. I hurried to the bulletin board in the main hallway and put up the other ad there. Then I hurried again to my office and sat down behind the desk, still shaking. I didn't want to hear what they were saying. I didn't want to know if they were tearing it down.

I got my breathing under control and stepped outside.

I put the little sticker up under my name on the wall beside my door.

A little rainbow flag that signaled that my office was a safe space where LGBTQ+ students were welcomed.

And now I just had to wait for next Wednesday. Either this would help someone, or it would all blow up in my face.

---

The smell of apple pie wafted around the house.

I had my unruly hair in a loose bun, meticulously made to look casual. Tank top and a red shirt tied at the front. Jeans. Makeup.

I wasn't stressing, no way. Just casual coffee with a friend.

With the Pastor's wife.

Fuck.

Just coffee. Nothing else. It could never be anything else.

Never.

So, stop dreaming, Liv. Just stop.

I heard a car come to a halt on the gravel. Looking out the kitchen window I could see a blue minivan next to the truck.

She was walking towards the house in a green blouse, jeans and boots, with a jacket over her arm. Her honey-ginger mane was back in that hot French braid down her back.

I went out to meet her on the porch.

"Welcome to Sunflower Ridge, Mrs. Hanson."

"Thank you!" She came right to me and gave me a friendly hug cheek to cheek.

"And please, call me Maggie."

"Ok Maggie." I smiled.

It felt nice saying that.

She turned around on the porch.

"That's an amazing view, it's beautiful out here."

"Yeah, it's quite something isn't it? Please, come in."

She walked in through the hallway and nearly twirled around the open space when she got to the great room, admiring the high ceiling, large windows and the exposed beams.

"Oh, I love this house, it's beautiful!"

"Thanks, my great grandfather built it in the 1920's. The original farmhouse was a little south of here, but it burned down when my Dad was a kid."

"So, has your family lived here for generations? That's amazing."

There was something different about her today. She was so much more animated, more alive somehow.

"Yes, since the 1890's. My family immigrated from Germany. I've got some cousins somewhere near Fargo, but my Dad and I are the only ones left here though. Not sure what I'll do with the place when he's gone."

She went quiet.

"How long has he got?"

"Hard to say. Maybe until Christmas."

"I'm so sorry."

She came to me and gave me a real hug. A proper one, enveloping me in her arms and not letting go for a while. It felt wonderful. When she let go I choked down my tears.

"Thanks. I didn't know how much I needed that."

She took my hands with a comforting smile.

"That's what friends are for Olivia."

"Liv. My friends call me Liv."

"Okay. Liv. I like that, it's pretty. It suits you."

She was standing very close to me. I could feel her breath on my lips, and her eyes were looking into mine.

And then they flicked down to my lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

She let go of my hands and took a step around me.

I stood there, heart racing as she walked around the room, looking out the windows, praising the view out to the main fields West of the house.

She had felt it too. That perfect moment to kiss. If I had just moved an inch towards her, given her just a little hint, would she have...?

No. Stop.

But she had thought about it. Her eyes gave her away.

No. I was reading too much into it.

I reached for the safety of coffee and pie.

"Uhm... how do you take your coffee Maggie."

"Oh, black please." I turned towards the kitchen.

"Like my conscience," she added playfully.

I couldn't help giggling.

"Ha! That's a good one. What dark secrets could a demure Pastor's wife have?"

I realized too late how that was a very wrong thing for me to say. Once, I had been exactly that dark secret.

Shit.

I put a K-Cup in the machine and pushed the button and looked up to see her standing in the doorway looking at me with a hard-to-read look on her face.

I looked down.

"So, I guess they told you?"

She gave a shadowed smile.

"Yeah, they did."

"Look, I'm sorry..."

"No. Don't be sorry Liv, they should be sorry."

"What?"

"Judging from what Ellen told me, you were taken advantage of when you were quite young, and certain people in this town made it their business to slander and bully you for it."

I was so stunned I just stood there with her cup of coffee in my hand.

"And even now, at the bake sale, the Andersons still carry a grudge for something Elizabeth should have taken the blame for years ago? It's shameful."

The tears just came. I didn't heave or shake, my throat just tightened, my eyes burned, and I could feel them running down my cheeks.

"And how you just stood there and gracefully let it wash over you, let it flow around you like it was nothing. I didn't know what it was about then, but I admired you for it. But now that I know... I don't know how you do it Liv."

I heard myself say it through the tears, like listening to another person speaking.

"Years of practice."

She came to me and took the cup away and sat me down on a chair. She pulled up another one and sat holding my hands.

"I'm sorry I upset you. I didn't mean to. I truly... admire you."

She moved a lock of hair plastered to my wet cheek back behind my ear.

I blinked and wiped the tears, looking up at her.

"It wasn't just Elizabeth's fault though, you know? I didn't exactly play hard to get."

"Maybe not. But she was your teacher, and she should have known better. And they should never have made you out to be..."

She stopped.

"... Jezebel, the town dyke." I finished it for her.

"Yeah." She looked angry. "It's not right. And it's not like you're the only gay person in this town."

I looked up, startled. She was quick to continue.

"I mean, there's bound to be others, even if they don't show it in public."

She picked up her cup.

"And why would they, when they see how you've been treated?"

She took a sip of hot coffee. I was still staring at her, wondering. She was looking out the window, thoughtful, but then she snapped out of whatever she was thinking.

"Hey, how about I get us that pie?"

She stood and went to the counter to get the pie and the plates I had put out.

I just sat there, not believing this, wiping my tears away.

She was on my side. She knew, and she was still on my side.

And she was not just talking about a hypothetical someone, I was sure of that. She knew about someone, a still closeted someone.

I thought about Jenny. She was right.

And then I thought... could she know about Jenny? Or was it someone she knew from the church community? Or... did she maybe mean...?

I shook my head and accepted the plate she handed to me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to turn on the wet works. Let's just say your open-minded views aren't exactly mainstream around here."

"Yeah, I guess that's one thing we can maybe work together on changing. I heard that you're starting a Queer-Straight Alliance at the school?"

"You heard already? I just put the ad up yesterday!"

"Word travels fast in this town."

"Don't I fucking know it," I muttered under my breath.

I raised my cup of coffee.

"Well then, here's to open minds and opening closets."

Her smile was somehow bittersweet.

"To opening closets."

Later, over the pie, she asked me if I wanted to tell her what really happened with Elizabeth. Before I knew it the whole story had come tumbling out of my mouth. How she had offered to tutor me and then given subtle hints that she was interested. How I had been very interested and open to her advances. And how, when she kissed me and took me to her bed, I had been happy and excited. So very happy.

I told her how we only met four times before Rebecca found us, and then what came after. And how I ran away to University of New Mexico when I got lucky in the admissions lottery, and we could afford the tuition.

How I had only come back because my Dad got sick, to spend what time he had left close to him.

She was a wonderful listener.

When she left just before dinner, she gave me another warm hug and thanked me for everything. She made me promise to meet her again during the week and wished me luck with the QSA, saying she was happy to help any way she could.

And as she said goodbye, there was another moment where I thought she might lean in to kiss me.

It's funny how the mind just makes up things it wants sometimes.

When I fell asleep that night, I was both happy and afraid.

I had made a new friend. A real one.

And I was hopelessly in love with her.

---

The final bell rang.

The library doors were open. An ad hung beside the door. A new one.

The ones I had put up had been vandalized with slurs.

I had even bought a few handheld pride flags online, that now sat in a vase on the librarian's desk.

I had found what books there were in the school library that were relevant to human rights and LGBTQ+ issues and negotiated for them to be put on a separate rainbow-flag marked shelf at the front.

The chairs were lined up, the projector ready with a few basic information slides.

I sat and watched the open doorway, heart pounding.

Maybe no one would come. Then I would do this again next Wednesday, and the next, until someone came. My old stubbornness had sunk its claws in this project.

Kids were milling about in the hallway, on their way home, talking to friends. No one seemed to be coming in here.

Until two sophomores suddenly appeared in the doorway, hesitantly stepping inside.

"Hi, welcome. So good to see you guys. Have a seat."

The two girls sat down, and I asked them their names. Gina and Alison, and they were adamant that they were just here to see what the club was about, they weren't gay or anything like that.

I said that was completely okay, this was an alliance open to everyone, and that membership of the club didn't say anything about one's orientation. That we were here to promote knowledge and equality.

They seemed happy with that.

Next, three senior guys came in. I nearly grimaced, thinking they were here to cause problems, but they sat down and showed genuine interest. But not before they had explained that they weren't gay, just here to learn.

I welcomed them and was about to start handing out a small leaflet I had made when Jenny came in with another girl.

I smiled at them and offered them a seat. They sat at the back. Jenny's friend was Susan, and I was pretty sure she was the same girl I had seen Jenny watching at the church bake sale.

There didn't seem to be any more students coming so I opened my slides and went through them, answering hesitant questions and trying to get a discussion going. Asking if they knew anyone who was gay or otherwise queer, a family member perhaps, or if the followed some artists that were open about their LGBTQ+ identity. That last one finally got the conversation going, everyone knew some out and proud musicians. But no one said they knew any queer people personally.

I pointed out that I was a lesbian, and that they knew me, so now they did know at least one queer person. That got a little laugh.

They left with less tension than when they came, and I told them that next time we could discuss some ideas for club activities and projects.

Jenny's eyes met mine as they left, and her smile was wide and genuine.

That smile made all this worth it.

I was feeling very pleased with myself when I went to visit Dad that evening.

He told me that he was proud of me.

---

Over the next month or so I met up with Maggie regularly. I even relaxed a little and went to her house when it became hard to explain why I always wanted to meet at my place.

And people noticed.

I knew they would. But Maggie didn't seem to be bothered.

She was different when we were alone from when I met her on the street, like she was playing the part of the Pastor's wife whenever she was around other people. With me, she was fun, animated and quick-witted. Out among her husband's flock, she was a lot more reserved.

I loved our time together.

That wasn't strange, I was head over heels in love with her.

I thought about her when I woke up and I masturbated to my dreams of her before I fell asleep. I was smitten by her beauty and in awe of her beautiful personality. So kind and compassionate, always ready to help people, giving, cheerful and with a wicked sense of humor that came out when we were alone.

She was an amazing friend.

A friend that would have to stay only a friend.

She was a very physical person, and every time we met, she hugged me, found subtle ways to touch me, stand close to me. Often there were moments when it felt like it wouldn't take much for me to kiss her. For her to kiss me back.

It felt like she was making me think she wanted things that I knew she couldn't want.

That she wanted me.

I longed for it to be true.

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

And I couldn't be burned again, because if I was, she would burn with me. Even if by some divine intervention she wanted me for real, I knew that getting together with me would ruin her reputation and drag her through my mud.

And I couldn't do that to her. I had to protect her from my toxic shit.

So, I bit my tongue and eased out of those touches, shortened the hugs. Subtly moved out of kissing range.

Straining with all my mental strength to make sure that I wouldn't lose my friend in a moment of weakness and bad judgement, like I had lost Pam before, a long time ago.

---

The air smelled like rain, though the spring storm had passed hours ago. It had just lasted an hour or so, but the thunder was intense.

There was something about thunderstorms that I liked. The darkness and overwhelming power somehow spoke to that old pit of despair in my soul. Fed the monsters in there.

Everything was wet.

I sat on the porch bench, one foot up, holding my knee, just enjoying that damp, clean smell that carried across the fields. There was a glass of my Dad's homemade chokecherry brandy in my hand, half-empty. I wasn't in any hurry. Plus, I had the bottle right there.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

And then it wasn't.

A car rumbled up the road to the house, tires crunching slow over the gravel. I didn't move, didn't need to. I knew the sound of her minivan before I saw it.

It made my heart beat faster.

Maggie pulled to a stop, but she didn't cut the engine right away. The headlights washed over the yard, picking out the shape of my truck where it sat in its usual spot next to the barn. I wondered what she was thinking, sitting there.

Finally, she shut the engine off.

She got out, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she walked up the steps, her reddish blonde hair in a simple ponytail rather than her usual braid.

I'd never seen her in a hoodie before. She looked... casual.

And nervous.

I lifted my glass slightly. "Bit late for a drive, don't you think?"

She smiled, but there was something in it that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep."

I just patted the bench lightly.

She hesitated, just for a second, then stepped forward and lowered herself onto the bench beside me.

We sat in silence for a while, the old timbers of the bench creaking.

Maggie pulled her hands from her pockets and folded them in her lap.

"It's so quiet out here."

I took a sip of brandy, letting it warm my throat.

"Yeah."

She tilted her head back, looking up at the sky.

"You can see so many stars."

I glanced up, letting my eyes adjust. The sky was clear now, the storm clouds long gone. She was right. The whole universe was laid out in front of us, vast and endless.

We stared at the millions of lights in the sky for a while, both lost in thought.

"I used to look at them all the time... wondering what it would be like to be out there, to see amazing new worlds."

She was quiet, listening. Or perhaps lost in her own thoughts. I looked down.

"Just wanting to get away, I guess. Escape."

She was quiet for a while.

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

It sounded like her mind was far away. But I could feel her looking at me.

"But you did. Escape."

I exhaled through my nose, looking back up at the stars.

"Yeah, I guess."

She was quiet again for a moment.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

I thought about it. About Albuquerque. About the years I spent staying away from this place, trying to carve out a life in a place where everything felt so different from home. About my failed relationships, my attempts at happiness repeatedly sabotaged by my own insecurities and trust issues.

I swallowed. "I'm not sure."

Maggie just nodded, like she understood.

I took another sip, letting the warmth settle in my chest.

After a moment, she sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I'd left."

I turned to look at her again, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were still in the sky, like she was trying to find something she had lost.

I thought about her house. About the husband waiting there. About the life she had chosen... or maybe just the life she had accepted?

I opened my mouth... and then shut it.

She let out a soft, quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"God, listen to me. I sound like a broody teenager."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Maggie..."

"Yeah?"

"Are you ok?"

Silence. Then a sigh.

"Yeah. I guess..."

I waited, my counsellor's brain taking over, letting her find her own words.

"... I guess I just needed to get away from the house for a while, you now?"

The wind shifted again, carrying the scent of damp earth and grass.

Maggie let out a breath and leaned back on the bench. "It's nice out here. Quiet."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You're always welcome Maggie. Whenever you need a break from life. Or a friend."

She didn't say anything else. Just sat there beside me, our shoulders nearly touching, breathing the same night air. Sharing my glass of brandy.

I wished she could stay there with me forever.

---

Spring had sprung for real in the middle of May, and the prairie rose was getting ready to drape the landscape in its pink flowers.

We sat outside at the Flickertail Diner on Main Street, enjoying the sun, the temperature finally rising well into the sixties. Maggie was distant, lost in thought somehow. Not her usual composed self.

I had spent the day with Dad, having lunch and playing cards with him and some of his 'fellow inmates' as he liked to call them. As hard as it was to watch his health deteriorate, I was happy to be able to spend time with him. I could see that it meant a lot to him as well, and that made these Saturdays even more precious.

Maggie had suggested that we make use of the sun and meet for early dinner at the recently renovated diner, where the new owners had built a terrace, hoping to catch some of the tourists straying through our town on their way to duck hunting, National Parks and Canada. As usual, I couldn't say no to her, even though I knew people would see us and likely talk.

Fuck it for once, I was allowed to have friends.

Maggie stirred the ice in her lemonade with the straw, watching the slow spin of the slices of lemon floating in the glass. She hadn't touched her food much, just picking at the fries, pushing them around the plate more than eating them.

I took a sip of my coffee, scanning the street out of habit. A few locals sat at nearby tables, some tourists in windbreakers and sunglasses flipping through a road atlas at the table next to us. Helen Richter was parked on a bench across the way, pretending to check something on her phone, but I wasn't fooled.

She'd seen us.

She'd seen Maggie sitting across from me, the way she laughed softly at something I'd said earlier, the way she leaned just slightly toward me when she spoke.

I wasn't doing anything wrong.

But that had never mattered much around here.

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stop thinking about it.

Maggie sighed and let go of the straw, leaning back in her chair, her eyes slipping shut for a moment.

"Do you ever feel like..."

She trailed off, opening her eyes again, staring down at the table like the words were harder to say out loud than she'd expected.

"... like you're living someone else's life?"

I frowned slightly, setting my cup down. "What do you mean?"

She glanced up at me, her expression hesitant, like she wasn't sure she wanted to continue.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Never mind."

There was something she needed to get off her chest. I'd been in enough rooms with people looking exactly like this to know that.

"Maggie? Tell me?"

She swallowed, then let out a breath like she'd been holding it all day.

"It's just..."

She trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of her glass.

"Some days, I wake up and I think... How did I end up here?"

She looked so lost, it was heartbreaking to watch. I said nothing, still giving her space to say what she was thinking.

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "I mean, I know how I got here. I made the choices. I did what I was supposed to do. Got married, bought a house, played the part..."

She hesitated, rolling the condensation from her glass between her fingertips now.

I could feel my pulse against my ribs, a dull, steady ache. I knew she had problems in her marriage, although she had never said so directly. Maybe it was how she avoided talking about it that made it obvious to me. And it fueled my hope. An irrational hope for her to want me, for her to be open to my love. A forbidden hope.

"But?" I prompted, shaking thoughts of kissing her from my head. I already suspected where this was going. And I was ashamed that a part of me hoped that's where it was going.

She looked up at me, and for a second, it felt like it wasn't the Pastor's wife looking back at me, or my friend Maggie, just this vulnerable, heartbroken woman with her soul wide open.

My heart ached for her. My shame deepened.

"But I don't think I ever really wanted any of it," she said, her voice quiet but certain.

The words sat there, heavy in the air between us. She seemed lighter having shed them.

It was the kind of truth that only got spoken when you had nothing more to lose. Or perhaps nothing more to give.

I should've said something.

But I didn't.

Instead, I just watched her, watched how her fingers fidgeted, how her eyes found mine, the way her shoulders tensed, like she was bracing for me to tell her that she was wrong.

But she obviously wasn't. This wasn't just some random thought. It was a well thought out evaluation of her life choices.

The sun was starting to dip lower, the golden hour throwing long shadows over the sidewalk, playing in her reddish gold hair, framing her beautiful, sad face.

"Do you regret it?" I finally asked.

She was quiet for a long time.

"I don't know."

It was just a whisper, but the words settled into my chest.

I nodded, just once, letting my fingers skim the rim of my cup.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I know the feeling."

Maggie looked at me then, her eyes full of something unspoken. Something raw.

And just like that, I knew I'd remember this moment for the rest of my life.

The moment when I should have told her that I loved her. When I should have thrown it all away, all my fears and anxiety, all my hang ups and insecurities, and told her that I was hers forever, that I would love her with every breath of my soul for the rest of my life.

If I had, maybe everything would have been different.

But I just sat there.

And said nothing.

---

Graduation was just a week away, the school year nearly over.

I finished up this week's QSA meeting with some information on bisexuality and the myths and prejudice that bisexual people battle with, both from outside and from within the queer community.

It was an engaging subject, and there were a lot of questions from the now crowd of 13 students that now made up our little club.

They had persisted in spite of our ads being vandalized and a group of bullies taking shots at them in the cafeteria. The project they were working on, setting up an information hub on the web about LGBTQ+ history and rights in North Dakota, was progressing nicely, giving them a voice, making them learn and use practical skills and letting them engage in safe and legal activism. I was very proud of them.

Still, none of them had come out publicly. I encouraged them to come to my office if they wanted to talk about personal issues, yet none of them did. Even so, there was something beautiful growing in the group. Understanding. Acceptance. Confidence.

Standing at the front, I spied Jenny's and Susan's subtle display of affection as they sat side by side at the back. Hands hanging down by their sides, their fingers touched briefly, holding the touch for a few seconds.

My heart leaped in happiness as it always did when I saw them share those little moments and I looked away, not wanting to embarrass them. It was wonderful to witness their blossoming romance, even just in those little stolen moments.

I finished up the meeting and tidied the room up to be ready for the usual library hours.

As I walked back to my office smiling, principal Stewart came to meet me there.

"Olivia, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, come in, what can I do for you?"

She looked uncomfortable. I got a feeling of foreboding.

"Uhm, I just wanted to give you a heads up that I've gotten a formal complaint from a few of the parents about your club meetings."

"Ah. Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I thought they might try to shut us down earlier, to be honest."

I tried to keep my voice calm, but inside my anger boiled. I think principal Stewart noticed.

"Yes, sadly I agree with you."

She looked me in the eye.

"Olivia, I want you to know I am backing you up a hundred percent. You are doing a great job, and to be honest I think there's a great need for the QSA in our community. And I don't just mean the school community."

A wave of relief went through me.

"Thank you, principal Stewart, that really means a lot."

She smiled.

"Your work here is valuable to us all and I'm not letting anyone chase you away."

"Can I ask who filed the complaint?"

"I can't tell you, other than it's the parents of a group of juniors."

"I understand. Okay, let me know if you need anything from me. I'll be ready."

"I hope it won't come to that; I will respond to it and explain that the promotion of equality is a well-entrenched school policy, and I hope that will be that."

After she left, I couldn't help but wonder who those parents were. There were five junior students in the QSA, four girls and a boy. I had my suspicions but tried to shake them off. I doubted I'd heard the last of this, even if the principal played it down.

I went to visit Dad after work and told him about the complaint, taking care not to say anything about the students or who I suspected of being behind it.

He was his usual supportive self, and we talked for an hour before I kissed him goodbye and went home.

I was looking forward to my evening because Maggie was coming for dinner. The Pastor was out of town until Saturday, and she had suggested we use the opportunity to have a 'girls' night' as she put it, with a nice dinner and a glass of wine. I saw the dangers in that but filed them away with all the other things that I shouldn't be doing with Maggie.

Just after I parked the truck in front of the house, I heard her minivan coming up the driveway.

She jumped out, casually dressed in a form hugging cable knit sweater and jeans, her hair flowing around her shoulders.

I went weak in the knees; she looked even more stunning than usual.

"Hi! I thought I'd catch you early and help you cook, I hope that's ok?"

She was smiling, but her eyes were a little red, like she had been crying earlier.

"Great, come on inside, it's just a simple chicken parm but I'll let you boil the pasta."

I smiled back at her, pretending not to notice her less-than-usual enthusiasm as we walked to the house and started getting dinner ready.

"Where are your wine glasses?"

"Glass cabinet in the great room." She walked out there. "Do you want red or white?" came the shout as she opened the cabinet.

"I'll have white please, I'm a Sauvignon femme." I smiled at my little lesbian joke as I breaded the chicken.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding two glasses.

"A Chardonnay sapphic, eh?"

My surprise must have shown, and she laughed.

"What? Never met a Pastor's wife who could speak lesbian?"

I giggled with her.

"Well, I used to know one, but she didn't like to talk with her mouth full."

I waggled my eyebrows at her in a 'if you know what I mean' kind of way.

"Oh my God Liv, that's TMI!" Her eyes were huge and she laughed hard in her hand like she was embarrassed to find this funny.

I cackled. It surprised me that I could joke about this with her, but it felt good. I guess it showed how close our friendship had become. It was good to see her laughing off her nervous energy from before.

"Here, what are we drinking to?"

I don't know why I said it, but it just came out.

"To lesbian Pastors' wives."

She hesitated for a second, and then she raised her glass with a strange smile, and downed half her glass.

"Thirsty?"

"Long day. Give me that bottle." She refilled her glass and opened the pasta.

"How much do we need?"

"Do a double portion, I'll eat the leftovers tomorrow night."

We cooked dinner and talked and drank wine. We finished the first bottle and opened another. I told her about my day, the QSA complaint and that I thought it wasn't going to go away easily. She told me about her day, a youth group meeting that went bad because of a bullying problem, and then there were some issues with her husband's trip to the clergy conference in Fargo that she brushed over. I got the feeling that there was a bigger issue there that she wasn't telling me about, but I didn't press.

I watched her over dinner, my mind going back to my conversation with Jenny.

I couldn't deny how I felt about her; I felt it in every fiber of my soul. I tried to keep the sadness away from the conversation, just trying to enjoy having her here with me, sharing a meal and some wine

We took the rest of the second bottle with us to the great room. I went to sit on the sofa, wrapping my blanket over my feet. She wandered to the mantlepiece looking over the family pictures. She stopped at one of them, looking back at me open mouthed.

"Is that you? Wow! You look so different! All... grrrrr!"

She made a dangerous tiger face and claws.

I chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm 17 in that one. It was taken during my troublemaker years in high school. I was doing my best to be a lesbian menace to society."

"You look fierce! And interesting. I wish I had known you back then." She sounded wistful.

"Yeah, me too."

There was a little silence as she picked up the picture to look at it better, and I thought of how much I could have used a friend like her back then.

She put the picture back on the mantelpiece and came to sit on the sofa. She put her feet up under her and I shared the blanket.

Our feet were almost touching under there. Just that was enough to make my pulse quicken.

"What were you like in high school?" I asked her.

She scoffed.

"Not a cool rebel, that's for sure. I was a drama club geek. It was fun, I've always loved theater. But mostly, I didn't get noticed much. Which I guess was a good thing in some ways."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I got together with Andrew senior year. He asked me to prom out of the blue. I was so happy, because he was cute and a really nice guy. He was my first boyfriend."

She smiled but her eyes were sad, and she went quiet, like the memory was haunting her, rather than making her happy.

"Maggie, are you okay?"

She smiled and looked at me.

"Yes, thanks... it's just... you know. Marriage. It's not all roses."

She stared straight ahead and moved to a more comfortable position. Her stockinged feet touched my bare toes and stayed there.

"Anything you want to get off your chest? I'm here if you need me. Listening is kind of my job, you know." I gave her a comforting smile.

She was silent for a while, her fingers quietly playing with her wine glass. She had that stare I sometimes saw in people as they opened up about something.

"I still care about him very much, but... it's like we're totally different people now, you know?"

She looked so helpless. Lost.

"It's okay to think that Maggie, people change, that's normal. God knows I'm not the same crazy blue haired ball of rage I was in high school. You guys were young when you got together, it's okay to not feel the same as then. Have you considered talking to someone, perhaps going to couples' therapy?"

"I've suggested it, but I think Andrew is afraid of being seen having marriage troubles. I get that I guess, I mean it's part of his job to counsel other couples."

She looked down.

"But I... I think he might be seeing someone else, in Fargo."

Oh no. I started to say something, but she continued.

"And you know Liv, what's so weird is... that it's not so much the fact that he might be meeting someone there and doing who knows what with her..."

She closed her eyes, like she was trying to block out her shame.

"What's making me feel awful is... I feel like that if he had just told me he wanted to see other people, I think I might have been alright with it."

She looked at me, eyes glistening with tears.

"Is that horrible?"

I lifted the blanket and moved to her side, putting my arm around her shoulders.

"No Maggie, that's not horrible, you have a right to feel how you feel. But maybe... it tells you something about where your marriage is at..."

Her smell filled my nose. Her hair brushed my arm. My thigh was up against hers and my breast was squished against her arm. Despite my best intentions I felt an intense arousal grow in me.

It was wrong. I was supposed to be trying to help her. To be her friend.

I just couldn't help myself.

She turned her head towards me. Our lips were only a few inches apart.

"The important thing is to try to figure out why you feel that way. That's something that's good to talk to..."

Her eyes caught mine.

"... a couple's therapist..."

I glanced at her mouth. She was biting her lip. Her eyes flickered down to my lips.

"... about."

She was hoping for me to kiss her.

The blinding realization made my heart pound, and my breath go shallow, I could feel the flush warming my cheeks.

I saw her cheeks and ears go red. Her fingers touched mine, it felt like a lightning strike.

Her breath was heavy.

I started to move away, like I always did, but this time she touched my hand ever so lightly.

"Don't," she whispered.

Time stood still.

"What?" I whispered back, knowing full well what she meant.

"Don't push me away."

"I don't..."

"Yes, you do... every time."

"I just... I can't..."

"You don't... want me?"

Her lips were an inch from mine now, her whispers hot on my face.

"Yes... I do, so much... but..."

"Then kiss me... please?" The pleading in her voice nearly tipped me over the edge.

"... I can't... we can't... it's not..."

The first feathery touch of her warm lips sent shivers through my whole body. They brushed mine, the slightest grab of my upper lip between hers, and then the contact broke.

My walls crumbled, my heart took over and for a few seconds nothing existed but the taste of her lips, as I kissed her for the first time.

I poured all my love into that kiss, sweet, slow and sensual. It felt like finally knowing my place in the world, finally knowing where I fit in. Right here, in her arms, with her lips on mine.

Right here was my place. My true home.

And yet, it couldn't be.

My brain screamed at me to stop this, push her lips and body away, pull back from this madness.

But in my heart, there was beautiful silence at last, peace. My world finally felt right.

I felt her tongue touch my lips and they parted. She found mine.

Our kiss grew urgent, I could feel her breath quicken, little whimpering sounds forming deep in her throat, making her lips vibrate against mine.

Her hand let go of my fingers and crawled slowly up my arm, up to my shoulder, touching my neck, gently holding my cheek. The trail of her touch left goosebumps on my skin.

My hand moved from my thigh to hers, soft under her jeans, moving up and inward, feeling the heat that emanated from her sex.

It drove me mad to know she was hot for me. I trembled as her fingers slid slowly, hesitantly down from my cheek, under my open shirt, tracing my collar bone, and down over my tank top towards my hard nipple tenting the thin material.

I knew that in a second, I would lose this battle, lose any chance of pulling out, any chance of stopping this. I knew that the moment she touched my nipple I would be gone, gripped by lust and my forbidden love for this beautiful, amazing woman.

And I let it happen.

Her fingers brushed over my hard nipple and the electric current went through me, connecting my lips, my nipples and my pussy, severing all connection with my logical brain, the lust burning in all my senses, seizing control of my mind.

I arched my back, pushed my breast into her hand, opened my mouth and moaned loudly into hers from the exquisite pleasure of being touched by the woman I loved.

She gripped my nipple between her fingers and rolled it through the thin material, making me squirm and yelp, silencing me with her lips and tongue.

I pushed my hand against her crotch, feeling the heat of her pussy directly now, mashing against it. She groaned into our deep kiss, pulling my tank top down, exposing my breast and sliding her palm over it, brushing the nipple, sliding underneath and obviously loving to feel the full roundness of it in her hand.

My hand went up under her sweater, finding her breasts covered by a bralette, pushing my fingers under it to feel her naked skin.

Her breasts were much smaller than mine, only handfuls and I couldn't wait to see them, suck them, nibble on that small stiff nipple I held in my palm. I rolled it in my fingers, pinching a little harder than her, and was delighted to discover that she loved it.

"Ooooh yes, oh Liv!"

She wasn't whispering anymore, and I gave her other nipple the same treatment. She squealed.

"Yesss..."

Her eyes were burning with lust, I could see my own need perfectly reflected there. I couldn't believe this was really happening.

I freed my hand and took off my shirt, dropping it away. She stared, eyes wide as I grabbed hold of my tank top and pulled it over my head, exposing my naked breasts. Her eyes went straight to my nipples.

"Do you want to...?"

She nodded slowly.

I moved and swung a leg over her, settling on her thighs, pushing her back into the cushions. I put my hands on the back of the sofa on either side of her and raised myself slightly, offering my hanging tits to her mouth.

For a moment she didn't move, and then her hands came up to hold them, her soft palms cupping them, guiding my nipples into her wet, warm mouth.

It felt amazing, heightened by the display of her enthusiasm, exploring my tits, licking my nipples, taking them between her lips, sucking soft and hard, trying to suck as much of my breast as she could into her mouth.

She moaned continuously, hands feeling and squeezing the soft flesh as she sucked, then sliding over my sides and back, feeling my naked skin, pushing into my pants to cup my ass.

I moaned and whimpered, her mouth making my sensitive nipples shoot fireworks down to my clit, and I knew I needed her to eat me. I didn't know if she had done that before, but I yearned to see her eyes look into mine as her tongue pushed into me.

I sat back and pulled on her sweater, dragging it up over her head. The bralette was a pretty white lace one, making me wonder for a moment if she had anticipated this. I didn't care though, I just removed it quickly and was looking at a delicious pair of tits, small and perfectly shaped, with rosy pink nipples scrunched up and ready for me to pinch.

I took both of them in my fingers and squeezed. Her look of pleasure was priceless to behold. Oh God, how I loved giving her pleasure. How she looked, the sounds she made. I couldn't wait to get my tongue on her clit and to feel her tense up in orgasm.

I kissed her again and she moaned into my mouth, her hot breath driving me wild. In between kisses she whispered how long she had wanted this, how happy she was, how sexy I was to her...

Every word was both beautiful and a reminder of my guilt, that I shouldn't be doing this. But I was too far gone to stop.

I slid down to the floor and pulled on her pants. She lifted her ass, her burning eyes holding mine as I tossed them away, spread her legs and dove in between them. The look on her face as my tongue touched her hot, wet lips was amazing. I marveled at the obvious pleasure painted on her face as my nose played in her reddish curls and my lips sucked on her clit. Her eyes glazed over, and she trembled, her hands came to my head and she caressed my hair, gently at first, and then grabbing it hard as I pushed my tongue inside her.

She tasted like love. Her soft, fleshy pussy felt so right in my mouth. I shook with pleasure just from eating her.

She whispers had stopped and she had a look of intense concentration now, already chasing the orgasm. I gave her clit some special attention to push her closer, and loved to see her respond instantly, tensing up, getting close.

"Inside... please... finger..."

Her staccato plea came between quick breaths. I kept licking her clit and slid a finger inside her, massaging her warm and gripping front wall.

In just a few seconds she erupted, her breath expelled with a long powerful, loud moan, her thighs crushing my head. As she came down, she was heaving, catching her breath. At first, I thought it was aftershocks, but then I saw tears.

I moved up to hold her as she rode out her emotional release, kissing her tears away.

"It's ok Maggie, shhh... "

"I'm sorry... it's just... overwhelming..."

She got control of her sobs.

"... first time..."

"It's ok, I know."

She wiped her happy tears and kissed me again. A new chapter in her life opened, she was going to enjoy it all. Her hands found the buttons and pulled at my pants. I stopped her and stood up.

She watched as I pushed down my pants, her eyes drinking in my naked body. I offered her my hand. She took it, and we climbed the stairs naked, hand in hand.

Later, when my body shook in orgasm as I rode her amazing face to my second bliss, I looked up from her beautiful eyes and found Amy's unmoving stare watching me, somehow managing to be both approving and condemning.

And as I fell asleep in Maggie's arms, I felt both immensely loved and horribly afraid. It had been the most beautiful night of my life. But my selfishness would put the woman I loved directly in the line of fire.

If I didn't end it, all hell would break loose.

---

I tried to kill the pain

But only brought more

I lay dying

And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal

I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming

Am I too lost to be saved?

---

I woke up, and for a blissful second, I just remembered her kisses, her eyes, our orgasms. But then the horrible reality of what I had to do grabbed me like a vice.

I was alone in my bed, staring at the ceiling, the despair screaming inside me.

This was bad. This was what I had been trying to avoid. And it had been beautiful, amazing. Even more beautiful than I had dared to imagine.

And now I had to end it. Crush it. It was the only way. Or it would ruin her.

I heard her moving around downstairs, the smell of coffee was sneaking into my room.

I dragged myself out of bed, put on a T-shirt and my jeans and walked slowly down the stairs.

She was making us breakfast.

I stood in the doorway, watching her, arms crossed tightly, the tears already wetting my cheeks, in agony over what I had to do.

"Maggie..."

She looked so beautiful in the morning sun shining through the window, casting a glow on her rose golden hair.

"... this was a mistake."

She stood there with the coffee in her hand, realizing that something was wrong but not grasping it yet.

And then she got it.

"What? Liv? What do you mean? No."

"I mean we shouldn't have... this can't happen... we... can't happen."

I watched as the pain bloomed in her face. Horrible pain, caused by me. I forced myself to go on.

"It was a mistake, Maggie."

"No, Liv, no, don't do this... we can talk about this, please, just..."

"There's nothing to talk about Maggie, they will tear us apart. It will be a living hell for both of us. You don't deserve that."

"I don't care Liv, I'm not afraid of th..."

"You don't know what it's like!"

I shouted. My dark emotions took over, the monsters reaching from the old black pit to claw at my heart once again. My fear took control of my words.

"This town hates me! They hate me! They will hate you too. I can't put you through that. You don't deserve that. I can't protect you. I'm not strong enough. I can't... I can't... I can barely keep it together as it is. And now the dyke has seduced another Pastor's wife? What, she's got a crazy fetish or something? Oh my God Maggie. I knew this couldn't happen, I knew it. And I still fucked it up. I fucked up. Again. So now I must stop it before... before..."

"Liv, no... no... please... don't do this. Don't... please don't..."

"Maggie... please... you need to go. Please just go."

She looked absolutely stricken. Heartbroken. Tears running down her cheeks. She stared at me, silently crying, for what felt like an eternity.

And then she left. She didn't say anything, she just went and got dressed and left without a word.

I heard the minivan drive away.

And that was that.

I had lost another friend.

And the love of my life.

This time I had no one to blame but myself.

As the sound of the car receded into the distance I broke down completely, crying on the kitchen floor.

---

Graduation came two weeks later, but I didn't go.

I was a mess.

I only went out to visit Dad, who didn't understand why I was so sullen and joyless.

I couldn't tell him.

I couldn't face him knowing how stupid I'd been.

I managed two whole days of actively lying to myself before it hit me like a truck, and I fully understood what a monumental heartless idiot asshole bitch I had been.

Not even giving her a chance to talk about it. Not respecting her feelings. Not letting her make her own decision about her own future. Treating her like shit.

Not giving us a chance.

I just threw her out like a piece of trash. Like she meant nothing to me.

When she meant everything to me.

I tried to call her, but of course she didn't answer.

I tried for a few days. Phone calls. Increasingly desperate texts saying that I was sorry, I was wrong, I was an idiot, but could we please talk?

Saying I loved her.

In a text.

Because at the end I just needed her to know. Maybe one day she might be able to think back and believe that, even if she could never forgive me.

There was no answer. Nothing.

I cried until I had no tears left.

I had ruined everything.

She would never trust me again.

Probably never talk to me again.

And she'd be right not to.

I was a broken stupid asshole bitch.

She deserved better.

I didn't dare to go knock on her door, not knowing what the situation with her husband was. The last thing she needed was me showing up and making a scene with him there.

I couldn't seek her out in public, at church or other events.

I kept hoping she would come back to scream at me, to tear me up, tell me what a horrible bitch I was and to stop trying to contact her.

It would have been better than the silence. Maybe if she did, she could burn off her hate for me like that so we could talk. So I could tell her how sorry I was to her face.

That became my only hope. I made up scenarios in my head where she would let me say I was sorry. I didn't even imagine anything more than that. Just that. A chance to ask forgiveness, But I knew it wouldn't come.

It was over a month later that I saw her in the store, paying for her groceries as I got to the register. My heart jumped, thinking that maybe she would give me a minute outside.

"Hey Maggie..."

She looked at me and her beautiful eyes shone with the same deep, heart rendering pain I had seen that morning.

It hit me like a hard slap to the face.

"Hello Olivia."

There was no feeling in her voice, no friendly comfort, nothing of the Maggie I knew. Just a cold courteous hello. A husk, with nothing inside.

My hope died.

I still tried.

"How've you been?"

"You know. Busy."

"Do you maybe... have time for a chat?"

"I'm sorry Olivia, I have to get back home."

She took her bag and hesitated for a second before she left, and like an afterthought she added "It's good to see you, Olivia. You take care now."

And then she was gone and I just stood there, groceries on the belt, trying not to break down crying in front of Ellie.

I didn't see her again for the rest of the summer. I avoided anywhere I might bump into her, not trusting myself to emotionally survive another brushing off like that.

Dad got steadily worse, and I threw myself into trying to make him feel loved, visiting him every day and staying long. When I wasn't there I spent my time fixing things around the house. The barn door needed repainting, part of the back porch railing was loose, things like that. No one else was going to do it.

Soon I would be all alone.

---

Dad's birthday was August 29th and I surprised him by taking him home over the weekend with some help from the nursing home staff, to cook him a nice birthday dinner. We had fun, and it felt so good having him home again, even if it was just for two days. I made the bed for him in the spare room downstairs and with my help he managed to get in and out of it.

I woke him up before sunrise. We got up and put on our coats, and I parked his wheelchair beside our bench in front of the house.

We sat there watching as the sun cleared the horizon, and mom's watchful gaze fell upon us, still looking after us. I thought she would like seeing us back together in our old spot on the porch.

Dad looked lost in thought.

I sipped my coffee.

"Liv?"

"Yes Dad?"

"Be happy. You know... when I'm gone?"

I choked up, tears welling.

"Dad... I..."

"Find someone who makes you happy, Liv. Be happy. For me."

He wheezed through a coughing fit. I held his chin to make it easier on him. I started to say something, but he cut in.

"The last thing your mom said to me was to take care of her girl. To make sure you were happy. But I didn't know how. And I should have tried harder to protect you baby. I wish I could have done more. I failed you both."

He looked heartbroken. I was crying now, unable to stop it.

"You didn't fail Dad; you were always there for me. You saved me. You never failed, none of it was your fault."

He wiped away a tear with a shaking hand.

"Well. Thank you honey. But it is what it is. Do this for me Liv, don't stay here if it makes you unhappy, ok? Find your place in the world and find your happiness. You deserve happiness. My strong, beautiful girl."

"I will Dad, I will." My tears were uncontrollable now.

He sat there, silent for a while, until I calmed down a little.

"Is there someone special in your life, Liv? Someone you love?"

I wiped the tears from my red and puffy eyes.

"Yes, there is. But she's not for me."

"I know you've been hurting these past months, even though you don't tell me. I know you honey. But don't give up on happiness, Liv. Fight for it. You've always fought for what you believe in. Believe in your happiness."

"I'll try Dad. I will."

"I know you will, Liv. I believe in you. I always have."

The sun bathed us in the welcome early morning warmth. His physical power and energy were only the husk of what they once had been, but he still had strength to give me.

That morning, we sat out there for a long time talking about life, memories, my feelings and his worries, like we used to, under mom's watchful eye.

A week later, he was gone.

---

I sat on the porch, feeling numb. It was close to midnight.

It was two days since I buried Dad, and I didn't know what to do.

I was alone.

The funeral was beautiful. Pastor Hanson spoke about my Dad with immense respect, and the church was full of people. It felt strange to have people who I thought didn't think much of me come up after the service and pay their respects, all of them having a kind word or a warm memory to share.

They were all so warm and friendly. Like they really cared.

I didn't see Maggie there, and during the inevitable preparation meetings with her husband, I had a hard time putting my shame aside.

Principal Stewart had granted me leave. The school year had just started and I had promised her to at least finish the semester until Christmas.

The only thing that kept me from buying a ticket back to New Mexico was the QSA. I couldn't leave them yet.

I emptied the bottle into my glass and took a sip.

I could hear a car coming up the driveway, lights moving.

The minivan stopped on the gravel beside my truck.

I watched as she stepped out, cable knit sweater and pretty braid. I just looked at her. I didn't have the energy to fight. Maybe she was finally here to shout at me. I hoped she would.

She stepped up on the porch.

"Hey. Can I sit?"

"Yeah. Okay." I scooted to make room on the bench.

We sat in silence for a minute or two.

"Would you like some wine?"

"No thanks, I'm... not staying long."

"Oh. Okay."

The silence stretched again.

"Liv, I..."

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. I waited.

"I just wanted to say how sorry I am, about your Dad. I know how close you were."

"Thanks."

"It was a beautiful service."

"Yeah."

"Are you... okay? Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need anything?"

I just stared into the darkness. She was the only thing I needed.

"No... I'm... no I don't think so. Thanks for asking."

Silence again.

"Okay then... well I guess I'll..."

She moved to leave. And suddenly just I couldn't face the darkness alone.

"Maggie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you... can you just... hold me... for a while? Just... before you go? Please?"

She hesitated for a second but then her arm came around my shoulders and she scooted closer to me, holding me.

"Yeah Liv, of course."

I leaned towards her shoulder, and she leaned her head on top of mine.

We sat there for a while. I don't know how long. It felt like an eternity.

I wished we could just sit like this forever.

"Maggie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. About... everything."

"I know."

"I... didn't mean to... want to hurt you... I was just... so afraid."

"I know."

She sounded tired.

The silence stretched on and in the end, she turned her head and gave me a soft kiss on the top of my head. And then she stood and left.

I watched her car turn around the corner of the barn and disappear down the driveway.

From the dark pit at the bottom of my soul, the echo of Amy's voice swept through my heart.

These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase.

---

The kids were working in groups, brainstorming new QSA projects as principal Stewart appeared in the library door. She looked over the working area, taking in the 16 students already involved in discussions, engaged and drawing up ideas.

I was so proud of them. No one felt the need to declare they 'weren't gay or anything' when they joined this fall. Jenny and Susan were leading the discussion at their table, no longer taking as much care to hide their small signs of affection as before. Most of the others most likely knew about their relationship by now, but no one had outed them. They all respected the QSA as a safe space.

"Welcome to QSA Principal Stewart, we're happy to see you here."

My happy greeting died on my lips as I took in the look on her face. She signaled for me to meet her outside. I followed her into the empty hallway.

"What's going on? Just tell me."

"Olivia... please know that I hate to say this, but... I have to ask you to suspend QSA activities for the time being."

The anger boiled in me.

"No."

"Olivia..."

"No. I will not tell these kids that a bunch of bigots want to stop them from meeting and discussing their lives."

"Please Olivia, I understand how you feel, but..."

"No, Principal Stewart, please, with all due respect... you do not understand. You can't understand what it feels like to be told that you have less right to exist than everyone else because of who you are, because of who you love."

She watched me struggle to keep calm and respectful, sadness lining her face.

"I know. But the school board has had multiple complaints now..." she put up her hands to stop me interrupting, "... and they have told me that they want the QSA meetings to be suspended pending a hearing next week where the complaints will be assessed."

Her eyes pleaded with me to cooperate. I breathed deeply and tried to control my anger.

"When?"

"Next Tuesday."

"Then let me finish this meeting. The next one isn't until Wednesday anyway. I will tell them what's going on at the end of this session."

She looked at me and then gave a small nod.

"Okay Olivia. Okay." She blew out her breath. "I hate this, you know. Your work here is important. I have told them, and I will tell them again at the hearing."

"I know. Thank you."

She turned to walk away.

"Anna?" She stopped and looked at me.

"I don't know how much Colin and the others have told you... but I spent three years in hell here because of who I am. I will not let those kids go through that. They deserve better. They deserve respect. You understand?"

She nodded.

"I understand. I'm on your side Olivia. I'm on their side."

I watched as she walked away.

Then I took a few deep breaths and opened the library door.

---

The VFW hall was packed with people. I couldn't believe how many had turned out to listen to this. I sat at a table in the front, next to Principal Stewart. It felt like a defendant's table at court.

Anna kept true to her word and delivered a glowing speech about the school's commitment to promoting equality, praising the QSA and me for making the school community better and safer for everyone.

I watched the eight faces of the school board members sitting at the front, facing the crowd. I tried to avoid Rebecca Anderson's fucking smug face. Of course that spiteful cow was on the board.

Most of them didn't seem moved by the principals' comments.

Some of the people who had lodged complaints were heard. Some of them were who I had expected, parents of kids in the QSA. I was glad to see Jenny's mom wasn't one of them.

They went through all the expected arguments, the same old hurtful bullshit about how children should not be subjected to propaganda in school, the importance of family values in the community, how parents had a right to dictate what was best for their kids. All the old shit.

And then the board started talking about me. Because, after all, the complaints were about me. About my 'unseemly conduct'.

The second they said my name, it felt like a weight settled over the hall.

The careful voices, the measured concern, the usual platitudes; "the students' well-being," "the role of an educator," "the importance of community standards."

They lined them up like polite little bullets, ready to fire.

I let them talk. I let them build their case, neat and professional. I sat still while they talked about "concerned parents," "moral responsibility" and "standards for the school." They laid it all out like something clean, something reasonable, something inevitable.

I tried to sit there and seem calm, but inside I was reliving my youth, every word like a knife being turned in my wounds. I knew I had to not give them an opportunity to brush me aside as the angry dyke they remembered and expected.

"How do you respond to these accusations raised against your conduct, Miss Meyer?" Chairman Harris looked at me, and the whole hall followed suit.

How do you respond? I closed my eyes. I knew where this was headed. I didn't think I had many allies here. Certainly, none on the board. And the allies that I had in the audience were tongue tied.

I glanced to the back of the room, where I had spotted Maggie. She sat there rigidly, like she didn't dare to blink.

I didn't blame her. I hoped she wouldn't speak, wouldn't give the crowd a reason to connect the dots from me to her, or worse, out herself for my sake. Just let me get through this without dragging her down with me.

This was what I had tried to protect her from. This was why I had...

No. Better that their attention was focused on me. The agonizing pain still stabbed my heart.

How do you respond?

At the very least, I was not going to take this sitting down.

I pushed my chair back. The legs scraped against the floor with a sharp screech.

Rebecca Anderson sat stiff; her hands folded across her chest. Chairman Harris leaned back in his chair. They were waiting for me to lose control. Waiting for my rebel yell, for the famous troublemaker to show her true colors.

And she boiled inside of me, that old rage, churning, seething, my demons threatening to rise out of the deep and teach these asshole bigots that I was not less than them. That I had every right to exist.

But this was about more than me. Something more important.

I took a deep breath to calm my voice.

"You want to talk about corruption? You want to talk about dangerous influences?"

I looked at them, one by one, letting the silence stretch.

"How about we talk about a School Board that has books on human rights and LGBTQ+ issues removed from the school library, so that the kids won't get any ideas about their rights? I checked this morning, and they are all gone. Did you have them burned?"

A shocked murmur went through the hall.

"Or perhaps we should talk about how this same School Board doesn't want Principal Stewart to take appropriate disciplinary action against students that write disgusting slurs on the QSA advertisements and harass the students who attend the club meetings? You talk about school policy: is protecting bullies school policy now? Or is it only school policy when the bullies' views align with your own bigotry?"

The murmur grew louder.

"Now look here Ms. Meyer..." Harris started. But I wasn't finished.

"You asked me how do I respond? This is how I respond: let's talk about what is really going on here."

I was trembling now, trying to keep my voice firm but calm. I had to get through this for the kids. This was about them, their future, their right to exist in this fucking town. I could not let them down.

"We all know what this is. This is not about the Queer-Straight Alliance. It never was."

I swallowed and gave it all I had.

"This is about me. It's about what I am, who I am. It's about the fact that you don't like a lesbian teaching your kids, talking to them, mingling with your wives and daughters at the bake sale or the church luncheon, existing in this town."

I looked them in the eye, one by one.

"But let's be very clear. I have every right to exist in this town, the same as all of you."

I saw the flickers of discomfort, the way they shifted in their seats.

"You don't have to like me. That's fine. But you have to let me do my job. So let's stop pretending this is about policy. This is about bigotry."

The murmur was rising, so I raised my voice to hold the attention.

"You people don't even know what the QSA is about. You've never asked for information on it, or visited, even though we've made it clear that parents are welcome to come see what we are doing. But you never showed any interest. Because you don't care."

My voice was starting to shake. My nails dug into my palms.

"You don't care that it's just a handful of kids sitting in a classroom, eating store brand Oreos, trying to make sense of a world that's already decided they're wrong about who they are. And you won't even give them a chance to find out for themselves. You just care that they're different. You're afraid that they might have the audacity to exist, the courage to put a name to who they are out loud. You're afraid of them."

I took a deep breath, trying to stave off my tears.

"And the stupid thing is, most of them are probably straight anyway, like all of you! It's a Queer-Straight Alliance, for God's sake! Most of them are just there to learn about something that is a normal, natural part of the world around them, but your sacred 'policies' didn't allow to be included in the school curriculum."

I looked away from the heavy-browed chairman Harris and looked over the hall, trying to make some kind of human contact with the people sitting there.

"Your kids just want to learn, they just want to respect others and be respected like decent human beings!"

Most of the eyes I met didn't feel very friendly, People were whispering, murmuring to each other.

I wasn't going to win this. I could feel the hope slip away from me.

"But this was never about them. Please just let them keep the QSA. Please. This is about me anyway."

And as I said it, something broke inside me. All of this was too much. I just broke. The lid came off the pit inside me and black tendrils reached for my heart.

I was going to lose this anyway. I was done with this shit. Fuck them all.

I looked at them, all of them, finding their eyes and holding their gaze until they looked away. Then I opened my mouth.

"I know how you look at me. You think I don't see it?! You think I'm blind!? You think that I don't notice how you go quiet when I stand in the checkout line with you? How you put your noses together behind my back and whisper about the town dyke!? At least some of you are honest enough to say it to my face!"

A thundering silence filled the hall.

"I'm no different from you. I just want to live my life in peace with someone who loves me."

My eyes caught Maggie's as I looked around the room. The look on her face was ashen. It just made this hurt even more.

"Why do you people care who that is? Why do you care who I love? Why the fuck should that concern you? How is that any of your fucking business!? Why can't you people just leave me alone!?"

I looked at their faces. Some were shocked, others sad. Some looked angry.

Rebecca Anderson looked smug as her eyes caught mine.

I deflated, my fire suddenly out. Nothing I was going to say would change what they thought of me. I had failed my kids.

I slumped back down into my seat.

"I just want to be left alone..."

I had no fight in me anymore. What the fuck was I fighting for anyway? Let them fire me. Let me just go back to New Mexico and leave all this behind.

I stole a glance at Maggie. She was looking at the door.

There was nothing left for me here anyway.

The murmur suddenly rose again.

In the middle of the crowd, Jenny was standing.

A horrible fright crushed my heart.

Oh, God no. Not this. Please, not this!

All thoughts of my own problems disappeared in an instant. I fixed my eyes on her and shook my head. With the most pleading look I could muster I mouthed a silent 'no' and begged her to sit down again, begged her not to do it.

But she took a deep breath, and with her back straight and her head held high she threw herself on the grenade.

"She's telling the truth."

I sank down in my seat, defeated. The murmur in the hall doubled.

"Miss Olson, please sit down." Chairman Harris tried to assert control of the hall.

"She's telling the truth!" Jenny's voice was louder now, trying to be heard over the clamor.

I watched her, saw the hurt in her eyes become determination. Saw how she took one more deep breath and stood rod straight, steeling herself for what she was about to say. Time slowed down.

Her eyes found mine, and I could see that her mind was made up. And then she opened her mouth, and her clear, bright voice carried over the jumble of chatter.

"I'm a lesbian!"

I closed my eyes in defeat.

The sudden silence felt icy.

"Jenny! Don't be ridiculous! Sit down!" Jenny's mother was standing now.

"I'm a lesbian, and there's nothing wrong with that." Her voice was shaking.

"Jenny! Sit down!"

"No mom, I'm not sitting down! And I'm not lying about who I am anymore!"

Immense pride and horrible fear battled for my soul as I watched Jenny stand tall and tear her sleeve from her mother's grasping hand.

"There are gay people in this town. There are queer kids at school. I'm not the only one. And we deserve happiness, just like everyone else."

A few people still talked, but she had the hall's attention now.

"And Ms. Meyer is telling the truth. We are scared. We're scared of... coming out. We're scared of... everything... everyone."

And that's when I saw Susan's hand reach up to hold Jenny's, giving her strength, in a silent coming out moment of her own. Everyone who was looking at Jenny must have noticed, but at least no one commented on it. And Jenny continued, finding strength in her girlfriend's support.

"Ms. Meyer is the only one we can talk to... who I could talk to. She helped me. Us."

I could see she was on the verge of tears now, as the full weight of what she had just done settled down on her shoulders.

"The Alliance is helping a lot of kids. You can't just ruin that. You can't fire Ms. Meyer for trying to help us. You can't. Leave her alone."

She sat down; her incredible courage spent. Susan's hand was still holding hers, their arms entwined now, leaning against each other as they sat side by side, all eyes on them. I didn't see Susan's parents in the room, but they would find out soon enough.

Jenny looked at me and I smiled at her, trying to convey how proud I was of her. Trying not to show how afraid for them I was. She managed a tearful smile back at me.

"You see!? You see how she has been corrupting these kids?"

Rebecca Anderson was fuming.

"This School Board called this to the attention of Principal Stewart last winter. This woman has a history of seduction and home wrecking. And now she's in a position to influence our children?"

I closed my eyes again. I was done with this. Let her rage. Just let them finish this. The best I could do was to try to help Jenny and Susan navigate their new life before I left. Try to do what I could so they wouldn't end up broken like me.

As Rebecca ranted, I looked over the room and met Maggie's eyes. They were red. She was wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. A deep, painful sorrow filled my heart.

I would leave and that would be that.

"... and now we can see how she is still corrupting people around her. But this time it's our children that she has access..."

"Why don't you shut your acid mouth for once in your God-damned life Rebecca!?"

The voice wasn't loud, but the words fell like a ton of bricks. Deathly silence followed. Rebecca Anderson's jaw was hanging open. I would have laughed, but I was stunned like everyone else.

At the back of the hall, by the door, stood Elizabeth Anderson.

"What the hell do you..."

"Shut up Rebecca!"

Everyone else now stared at the two women. This was small town soap opera at its finest.

And then Elizabeth looked at me.

"Olivia Meyer never seduced anyone. She certainly never seduced me. I seduced her."

A collective gasp went through the hall. I just sat there frozen.

"I took advantage of Olivia. I was her teacher, and I took advantage of her. That is what happened, and I am deeply ashamed of it. I was unhappy, and I was hurting, and I saw a chance to have something that I yearned for, something that could explain or fulfill the feelings that I have had for as long as I can remember, and I took it."

She looked at me again.

"And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Olivia; it was my fault. All this is my fault."

The murmur was rolling now, Rebecca's face was red, like she was about to blow up.

"All these years, Olivia never once publicly blamed me. Despite all the abuse and shit that Rebecca and my husband and others put her through, are still putting her through, she has never said a bad word about me. I want you all to understand that. Not one bad word. She just took your abuse and tried to live her life."

The murmur had quieted down. The crowd was hanging on her words now.

"And now she's come back, and she's trying to help kids struggling with the same problems she had. How to find their way in a world that brings them so much hate."

She looked around the hall, her eyes cold.

"Present company included."

A few had the decency to look away.

Elizabeth looked at me.

"Olivia, I'm so sorry, for all of it. I took advantage of your trust. I should never have done what I did, and I should have spoken out then, I should have taken responsibility for my actions. But I was afraid. I was a coward. You never deserved any of this. All you've done is to be true to yourself and try to help others. So, Rebecca, and all of you, stop this nonsense and let Olivia Meyer do her job. A job that she is good at, and makes a real difference, as we all heard from this young woman just now."

And then she just turned on her heel and walked out.

As the door closed, the silence that had held made her footsteps ring in the hall like a final punctuation to her speech changed into a clamor that rose with multiple people trying to get attention.

Everything was a little blurry after that. I guess I was kind of in shock.

I heard someone's voice cut through the din and call for parents who supported my work at the school and the QSA to stand up and show it, and then I saw more than half the hall get to their feet and stand with their hand raised.

I couldn't believe it. A few of them were people I knew from high school, classmates, people I would never have dreamed of being on my side. Others I could remember having come to pay their condolences at Dad's funeral.

I could see Robert's mother and other parents of kids I counseled, teachers from school, Principal Stewart, Ellie and Bradley, Jenny, Susan and the other kids from the QSA. They were all standing.

But most of them were people I didn't know that well, people I hadn't thought were my friends, people who I hadn't thought would be on my side.

But they were. They were all standing.

I had friends here.

Allies.

I couldn't believe it.

People were shouting now, clapping their hands, challenging Rebecca and the others to drop the case, and for the School Board to throw out the complaint.

I searched for Maggie in a daze but couldn't find her at the back anymore in the standing crowd.

Joy and despair battled for my heart once again.

I had allies, but she wasn't there. I couldn't see her.

Through the din of voices, I heard Chairman Harris shouting that the meeting was adjourned and that the school board would now have a discussion and a vote and would everyone please leave in an orderly fashion.

A hand grabbed my arm and lifted me up from the chair. An arm came around my waist and then somehow, suddenly I was out under the blue sky in the sunny afternoon with Principal Stewart on one side and Maggie on the other.

I cried from joy just feeling her hand on my arm. She hadn't gone. She was here.

The crowd was dispersing, people getting in cars and walking away. Some were glaring at me, others looked sheepish, but many came and shook my hand, patted me on the shoulder, Robert's mom gave me a hug.

Loretta Peterson told me to stay strong and asked if we could meet for coffee and talk sometime? I was horrible to her senior year because her boyfriend had been a huge bully. But she was smiling at me now.

Smiling. At me.

Maggie was still at my side, her hand in mine now. Her touch felt like a lifeline. I saw Jenny and Susan coming our way. My first thought was that I would have to try to find a way to maybe talk with their parents...

And then Jenny's arms were around me in a fierce hug. She was still shaking.

"You shouldn't have done that Jenny, you shouldn't have..."

"I had to Ms. Meyer. And I'm glad I did."

I looked at Susan. She was beaming, obviously very proud of her girlfriend, but there was uncertainty in her eyes as well. I guessed that they hadn't planned this. They both faced difficult conversations with their families now, and God knew what else going forward. I gave them the most reassuring smile I could muster, in my state as it was.

"Thank you, both of you." I looked at their hands, laced tightly together again. "I'm happy for you, I really am."

Their faces went red with synchronized blushing. It was cute.

"You talk to me if you have any trouble, okay?" They both nodded and left to go face the music.

"Come on, let's get you home."

"Yeah, that sounds good." I let Maggie hold my hand and lead me to my truck. This was the wrong side though.

"No, no, you are not driving right now, just get in."

I did as I was told, and Maggie got in the driver's seat. I closed my eyes, and we were silent until we got to the driveway to the farm.

"You can take the truck back," I said quietly, "Colin can pick me up tomorrow with it."

"I'm not leaving you alone right now Liv."

I didn't protest, I was happy for her company. It had been so long.

The lovely smell of her body spray filled the truck's cabin.

She parked the truck in its usual spot and led me indoors. I felt like I didn't need to be led like a toddler, but I let her do it anyway. Her hand felt nice and soft in mine.

She gave me a large glass of water and made me drink it, and then led me upstairs to my room. I lay down on top of the covers, under Amy's worried stare.

I was done. Sapped of energy, drained of fight.

Just done with all of it.

---

I woke up sometime during the night. It was still dark. The house was quiet.

I sat up to go pee and realized that I was just wearing my tank top and panties. Maggie must have undressed me before she left.

The pang of loss hit me like a sledgehammer, and I doubled over on the edge of the bed, crying. Silently heaving, crying my heart out at all the shit in the world and my fear of it that had made me push away the most beautiful thing in my life. My love. My chance at happiness.

And even after my horrible, undeserved rejection, she had been there for me when I really needed her. She had come to check on me after Dad's funeral, and now she had driven me home, taken care of me, undressed me and tucked me in without a harsh word.

The only thing I wished for right now was to hold her. Just hold her, to be in her arms. To feel safe. Loved.

As I got my crying under control, I dragged myself out into the hall and to the bathroom opposite my room. I didn't turn on the lights as I sat down. I didn't want to see myself in the mirror.

I washed my hands in the dark and stepped out into the hall.

There was a weak sliver of light shining out from the guest room down the hall.

I slowly pushed open the door.

There she was. Sleeping soundly on her side facing the door, her beauty ethereal in the soft light of the small lamp on the nightstand.

I stood there watching her sleep for a long time, trying to make sense of my feelings, my love, my guilt, my shame. Letting the rhythmic, comforting sound of her breathing soothe the turmoil inside me.

I didn't know how she felt about me.

But she was here. She hadn't left. Maybe...

Maybe she didn't hate me.

I walked silently to the other side of the bed and carefully slipped under the covers, quietly spooning her warm body, draping my arm over her T-shirt.

Her breathing didn't change, and I settled on the pillow, my nose nuzzled into her loose hair, her warmth filling me with a sense of security. A sense of belonging.

I didn't know how she would react when she woke up and found me here. I would take what was coming when it came.

I just knew that right now, more than anything else in the world, I needed to feel her close to me.

---

The sun played in her hair as I opened my eyes slowly. In those first confused seconds of consciousness, I moved and held her tighter by instinct.

Then I realized where I was and who I was holding, and froze.

"So... you're awake?"

Her voice was just over a whisper, and she turned her head a little to get a look at me lying close behind her.

"Uhm... yes."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm... not sure."

"Okay. Uhm, Liv... I..."

This was where she chewed me out. And left. Probably.

"We need to talk..."

I sighed.

"I know."

She started to turn towards me, to face me, but I stopped her.

"No... no don't... just listen first, okay? Please?"

Sometimes it's easier to talk when you don't have to look the other person in the eye.

She settled down again and laced her fingers with mine over her chest.

"Okay."

I swallowed my tears and told her what I hadn't told Jenny.

"I fell in love with my best friend when I was fourteen. Her name was Pamela... is... I don't know where she lives now, she moved away."

I closed my eyes.

"I didn't know what to do, I didn't fully understand my feelings... didn't know what to make of having these intense feelings for another girl. I knew that some people were gay, but I didn't know anyone like that. I just knew she was all I thought about, her eyes, her lips, how smart she was. It felt like... what I thought love had to be. Making her laugh was the highlight of my day. She had a beautiful laugh."

I remembered how we used to lie together on my bed, talking and laughing.

"We were close, together every day. And I... convinced myself... that there was something there, that she felt something for me as well. And..."

I took a breath. Just talking about this after all these years was making me nauseous.

"... and on my fifteenth birthday I kissed her."

The tears came. I let them.

"It was the most beautiful moment of my life, for like three seconds. And then she screamed at me. She went crazy."

I buried my forehead in her braid.

"She said horrible things, that I was disgusting, that she hated me, accused me of attacking her. And then she told the whole school I had tried to have sex with her."

"I didn't go to school for two weeks. And when I did there was constant bullying. Constant slurs. Every day. And the only way I found to survive was to become what they expected me to be. The stereotype dyke. So, I changed my look, my dress, my attitude... everything... and..."

My voice hardened.

"And I survived."

And here was the part that I had never told anyone. The part that I had only understood when I started on my degree, learning to help others, and had found myself in their stories.

"But... Maggie... it... it broke me. I lost the ability to trust people. And to trust myself."

Her shoulders shook gently. She was crying softly with me.

"And I'm still broken like that. I make... the wrong decisions because I don't trust my own judgement, or I think I'm doing the right thing when it's not..."

I buried my face in her hair.

"The only thing that I'm good at is helping other people with their problems, but I'm crap at working out my own. I've ruined all my relationships because of that, in one way or another. I push people away because... I'm afraid."

One more deep breath, and then she would probably leave.

"So, that's why. At least a part of it. Why I am this way. Why I pushed you away."

I was whispering now.

"Why I was so horrible to you. I thought I was trying to protect you, but... I was just afraid... and broken... and horrible."

The house was silent but for our sobs and sniffles.

"Maggie...?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. I'm sorry for doing that to you. I should have trusted you. I should have trusted my feelings. I don't know how you feel, but I understand that I've already ruined everything. I know that... you probably hate me."

It felt so painful to say, but it was the truth.

"I just hope... that you can find it in your heart to forgive me... someday. That maybe... we could be... friends... again."

She didn't say anything, but after a while she stopped crying and dried her eyes.

I could feel her deep breaths, preparing to say what she needed to say.

I braced for it, but I still wasn't ready for the force of the blow her quiet words gave me.

"Olivia... you broke my heart. You ripped it out of my chest and broke it with your bare hands."

An agonizing pain seized my heart.

"I thought I had finally found my place. And it felt wonderful, because... I've been lost so long."

Her fingers squeezed mine. That touch now held my only hope of salvation.

"I need to tell you something too. Something I would have told you sooner... but... yeah."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"I... I got married to my high school boyfriend because I thought that's what you're supposed to do. Get married, have kids, live happily ever after. But that's all just a load of crap. We're not happy. And I can't have children."

My breath hitched. It was horrible to hear her say that so flatly, like she was saying the store was out of milk.

"But maybe it's for the best, maybe I never loved him. Not really. I'm not sure he has loved me for a long time. He's known for years that he can't... give me what I need. He's been seeing someone else for months now."

She sighed. A sound of horrible resignation.

"But I've become good at playing the Pastor's wife, oh yes, just falling into step, making it work. It's what I do. But... it's not who I am. And then I met you, and everything suddenly made sense, fell into place. All the pieces finally just fit together, you know? Seeing how you stood up to that horrible woman at the bake sale, you were amazing. And then I got to know you, and I realized for the first time that... that this... this is what love feels like..."

Her voice was just a whisper.

"I loved you."

My tears were uncontrollable now. I just listened and shook quietly against her warm body, my only comfort being that despite all the pain in her voice, she still held my hand.

"And finally, when you kissed me, and made love to me, it was like you opened up this whole new world inside me. It was the happiest night of my life. It was everything that was missing from my life. My salvation."

She started crying again.

"But then you just threw me out. You just dumped me out like yesterday's trash, and I didn't understand why. It was like my feelings meant nothing to you. You made me feel like trash Liv. Used and discarded."

Her agony lashed me like a whip.

I deserved it.

There was a brief silence, but for our quiet sobs, each lost our own thoughts.

"But... I watched you yesterday, Liv. I watched it all. And I think I maybe understand... why. Why you did that. I couldn't have done what you did yesterday... facing it all like that. And back when you... dumped me... I didn't really understand what you have been facing all these years, how you must feel. And I don't know if I could have... If I was... ready."

She breathed deeply.

"Liv... I hate what you did. I hate it so much... and I hate that your old trauma made you feel like you had to do that. It was cruel, and... it's not something I can just brush off, okay? I can't. But maybe... maybe... I can try to understand a little better why."

I tried to keep my tears silent, her pain stabbing at my soul.

"What you told me... about your friend... it explains it a little. Explains you a little. Maybe I can forgive you Liv. But I don't know if I can trust you again."

The dark pit called to me.

But she took a deep breath.

"Liv... I need something more than just remorse from you if... if we are going to be friends."

From the dark, sinking sadness, my heart desperately fought its way back into the ray of hope.

Her fingers brushed mine slowly.

"But Liv... I can't be your hidden friend, your guilty secret, whatever this was to you before, okay? I can't live my life like that. I won't. Not anymore. And you can't protect me from all the dangers and the bigots of the world. So... if you want to be my friend... if you want to earn my trust again... make this right? Then you do it on my terms, okay?"

I just nodded, deathly afraid of both what she was saying and that I'd say something wrong and make her change her mind.

"Okay."

The silence stretched too long. I didn't dare move or say anything. It felt like she wasn't finished.

"Liv... I..."

Silence again.

"I called Andrew last night. I told him I'm leaving him."

Oh my God. Did that mean? I didn't dare hope but every cell in my body screamed silently with hope anyway.

She let go of my hand and turned to face me. Her whole face was wet, eyes puffy and red from crying. I probably looked worse.

"I'm not sure what my terms are exactly though, this is new for me. And it's a little scary."

I nodded.

"Yeah. I understand."

She looked into my eyes for what felt like a minute and an eternity, searching them. I just hoped she would find what she was looking for.

Finally, she sighed.

"So... friends then?"

I managed a small smile, relief flooding my soul as she said that little word.

"Yes... always. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She smiled back, and it was like watching the sun come up and claim the colors of the fields.

---

Epilogue

The old house is quiet except for the old creaks and squeaks of the timbers as I walk out on the back porch with my coffee and journal. Out by the vegetable garden, she's kneeling in the dirt, pulling at a seemingly endless supply of weeds.

She's wearing her Dad's threadbare old flannel shirt again, the one I've tried to take out of rotation three times now. Every time it mysteriously appears again, hanging on the nail just inside the barn door.

Over twenty years she's been tending her mom's old garden, growing things. She planted the first vegetables the year I moved in. She still pretends not to trust me to know the difference between a weed and a vegetable unless she's supervising.

She's stubborn, my Liv. My love.

It's one of the million little things that make me love her so much.

I used to think we wouldn't make it. Not because we didn't love each other. God knows we always did, all the way from the start. She hit my heart like a truck that day on the church lawn. Those warm brown eyes, her beautiful smile. How she carried herself, like she was ready to take on the world and go down fighting.

But I'd spent too long teaching myself not to want what I wanted, and she'd spent her life teaching herself she didn't deserve what she wanted. We both had to unlearn a lifetime of fear before we could let each other in.

And it wasn't easy. We broke things before we built them. I know she still thinks she was the only one responsible, but as I've told her many times, I never tried to understand what she was going through before I went to her bed that wonderful first time. If I had, maybe it would have saved us both a lot of tears.

But we made it through.

It didn't happen overnight like in the great love stories. Real life is slow and agonizing.

It took me leaving my husband to make both of us believe that maybe we had a chance of something more. That maybe I was ready to trust her. That maybe she was ready to be trusted. But it still took time and effort.

It still took us over a year just to find a way to be friends again, with a lot of small steps that felt big. Me answering the phone when she called. Her showing up when I asked her to meet me somewhere in public.

Moving from friends to something more took Liv learning to stop flinching inside every time someone in town looked at us a little too long, and me learning to give her time to unlearn a lifetime of trauma reaction.

It took me finally trusting that she wouldn't leave me again, and her trusting me when I said I was ready to face the world at her side.

It took her finding the courage to hold my hand openly at the church picnic, and me finding the courage to face the whispers and hostility that our open relationship sometimes brought.

It took me learning from her how to stand tall and be proud of who I was, and not let the whispers define me.

Those first years I often thought back to the first time I met her, this amazingly beautiful woman at the church fundraiser, and how she let the open hatred wash around her like it didn't affect her at all.

I took to heart the lesson I learned the day I watched her stand proud and pour her heart out on the floor of the packed to the rafters VFW Hall, defying the school board and anyone who dared to try to stop her students pursuing knowledge of themselves and their rights.

Of course, I later found out the turbulence that raged within her, how her demons haunted her. But the memory of her courage and determination not to give up her right to exist to anyone gave me strength to find my own.

I know that in her mind I am the strong one, but in reality, it's she who has shaped my strength, given me purpose and courage. Her stubborn, righteous heart is my beacon in this life, and I hope in the next one as well.

I remember like yesterday, the morning she nervously fell to her knee on the front porch, the ring in her trembling hands sparkling with the first rays of the spring sunrise, her voice shaking, her eyes wide and hopeful.

I said yes before she finished the question. I had said yes in my mind every day for five years by then, sharing her home, her bed, her hopes and dreams.

Sharing our life.

We got married here, in our garden, at a beautiful summer ceremony surrounded by friends and family. I'll never forget how beautiful she looked as she stood before me, my glowing queen in her crown of wildflowers, holding my hands under the open prairie sky like she would never let go again. And in that moment, I finally believed it completely.

And then, in a dream I had heartbreakingly given up on years before, I got to watch her body change with the miracle of pregnancy and become ever more beautiful as our little boy grew inside her. The nights when I held my cheek to the soft curve of her belly and sang to him as she stroked my hair will always stay with me.

He is 16 now, named Henry for his grandfather, tall and quiet, strong and stubborn like her. He rolls his eyes in fake embarrassment when we kiss in the kitchen and pretends not to notice when we hold hands on the porch bench or whisper our love in public. But then he smiles when he thinks we can't see.

I remember sitting with them on the porch when he was little, watching the sun coming up, listening to her tell him stories about his grandparents. My beautiful family.

Liv still works at the school. A faded, defiant little rainbow sticker is still there below her name, but the school now has a whole wall painted in rainbow colors with the QSA motto inscribed in tall letters:

Everyone belongs here.

She doesn't say it much, but I know how proud she is of her work. She has helped so many kids. So many families.

We still keep in touch with Jenny and Susan and a few of the others. Jenny lives in Chicago with her wife of ten years and Susan is happily married to an Air Force engineer in Minot. High school romance runs hot but doesn't always last.

The town is different now. Or maybe we are. Some people still whisper behind our backs. Some of them still give us disdainful looks. But we walk proud, and we are rarely bothered.

She's standing now, dusting off her knees. She sees me watching and smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, the same way they have for twenty years. The same way they did that day when she sold me her apple pies and captured my heart forever.

"What?" she calls, wiping sweat from her forehead.

I shrug, smiling back. "Nothing. Just remembering."

She shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself as she walks toward me.

I set my cup down and look out across the fields. The sun is setting, spilling gold across our world. Liv sits down beside me, her knee brushing mine.

She leans on my shoulder and looks over at my journal pretending to be curious. She knows she can read it if she wants to.

"What are you writing? Is it about me again?"

I smile and reach over to kiss her.

"Always."

The taste of her lips makes my heart beat faster. Time hasn't dulled her touch; it still electrifies every nerve in my body.

"It's just memories."

But it's not. It's a prayer of thanks.

And she's the answer.

She's the silent rhythm of my days, the heartbeat behind every breath I take.

We sit quietly for a moment, just enjoying each other's company.

I know that tomorrow morning, my love will wake me up early with a cup of coffee to come sit on the porch with her and watch the sunrise. It's where we've shared our hopes and fears these past twenty years or so, it's where we decided to get married, where we decided to have a child. It's where we can always talk about whatever is bothering us without judging each other.

It's our sanctuary, the quiet corner of the universe that's just ours.

I know that when the first rays of the sun shoot over the fields, waking up the world and spilling color over the prairie, she'll close her eyes, let the sun's gaze warm her face and whisper something inaudible, like she has done every time we watch the sunrise together for over twenty years.

And I will sip my coffee, lay my head on her shoulder and give her that little quiet moment with her eyes closed, her hand warm in mine. It's not for my ears, but I know what she's saying and who she's talking to. And it warms my heart, more than the sun itself.

"I'm happy, Dad. I'm happy."

---

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