CHAPTER FIFTEEN

We had an hour and a half to fire before Tatiana and Sug came down to relieve us. Tatiana took one look at us as we finished stoking the upper firefox and said, “Where’r Brice and Tawney?”

I took off the helmet and faceshield and wiped sweat and grime off my forehead with the back of my wrist. “I had to pull them. Brice is sleeping it off in town; Tawney’s conked out in my tent. Coming down off a bit of a high.”

“Janey’s gonna shit a brick.” Tatiana gave me a sharp look. “You look like hell.”

“I’ve had better nights,” I admitted.

Sug spoke up, her voice gentle. “Go up to the house and crash, Kez. You need it. I'm using the first bedroom at the top of the stairs.”

I was grateful for the offer. I wasn’t looking forward to telling Janey what happened, and doing it without any sleep was even less appealing. I nodded.

“Kez?” Jacob asked softly.

I looked over at him.

“Will you be okay?”

I smiled. I expect it looked gruesome, and I’m sure it was tired and threadbare, but it was still a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

Tatiana was watching us both. “Go on, you two. Get some sleep. Jacob, feel free to use the bed I’ve been in; it’s better than whatever you’ve been sleeping on.”

Jacob gave her a smile that no doubt looked better than mine and said, “Thanks, Tatiana. But I’m good. I’ll see you in a few, Kez.”

“Well . . . I’d say good night to you all, but it’s just after 4:00 am, so that sounds stupid.” I took off my gloves and threw them in the bin. “I’ll be down later.”

“Kez, honey,” Sug urged, “sleep right on through. I’m not going back to bed after the shift. Well . . . not right after, anyway.”

“Believe me, I’d love to. But I’m going to need to talk to Janey when she gets up.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I guess you will. Well . . . the offer’s still open. If you get the chance.”

I waved an acknowledgement, gave Jacob a parting smile of thanks, and walked up the road to the house. Before I went upstairs I spent some time in the kitchen rinsing the grime off of my hands, arms, face, neck . . . Tatiana was right. I did look like hell.

I quirked a smile when I saw the state of Sug’s room at the top of the stairs. Her clothes were scattered here and there, and the table was covered with sketch pads showing various abstract drawings in colored pencil. Inspirations for some of her sculptural forms.

I pulled off my boots, dropped my shorts, and got what was left of my work shirt off my back. It was badly torn and gave every evidence of having been rolled in the dirt while I was still in it. Complete loss, I thought tiredly. I finally crawled into bed, closed my eyes, and expected to be out in seconds.

I wasn’t.

Freed from the pressures of the moment, my brain decided it was a fine time to process my strange interaction with Jacob at the kiln. He had held me in strong arms, called me a woman (okay, a strange woman, but still). There was no denying the fact that he’d had one hell of an erection.

What was I, to Jacob? A “friend?” Could I even say that, when we’d only met each other days earlier? But there’s no denying that our shared predicament had brought us close together. We’d talked about things that I normally didn’t share, at all.

It’s more than that, I thought. That much is undeniable.

I forced myself to go back through each of our interactions. At the house . . . the morning on the patio . . . my studio . . . the dinner party . . . the walk in the woods . . . the drive . . . the tarn . . . the dancing . . . . Tatiana thought we’d known each other forever, and it felt like we had. Somehow, we understood each other. Clearly a connection.

No. An attraction.

No! For God’s sake! He was in love with Brea! No way he would be attracted to me!

Yeah, that explains the boner.

I told myself it was just adrenaline. The excitement of the moment. But . . . it hadn’t felt that way.

Okay, Kez. Stop avoiding the tough issue. What is Jacob, to you?

I had never been attracted to guys. But . . . no guy had ever been attracted to me, either. Finding myself in the arms of a decent, seriously good-looking guy who seemed to be attracted to me hadn’t actually felt unpleasant.

Not “unpleasant?” Really? You don’t say?

Alright, fine! It felt . . . good. On my usual “Barbie equals zero, Ken equals ten” scale, I might have hit a “one” for the first time ever. I’d enjoyed that, thoroughly. And from that place of deep, profound femininity, Jacob had been very attractive. Very attractive. I couldn’t deny it.

But so what? I am happily married. I have Kara, Kara is my world, and that’s all that needs to be said.

But the worm in my head forced one last thought into my brain before I managed to get myself to sleep.

Kara’s happily married, too. She also has Brea.

* * * * *

My alarm pulled me from a deep but troubled sleep less than three hours later. I hit “snooze,” but then snarled at myself, rolled out of bed, and changed the command to “off.” No stalling.

I could hear Janey downstairs, so I put my shorts and boots back on. The work shirt was a rag; there was no point in trying to put it on again. My tank top would have to do.

“Good morning, Janey,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen.

She looked up from her coffee. “Uh huh. Why do I think you’re gonna be wrong about that?”

“Because you were born with a suspicious mind. Beside, you’re probably still undercaffeinated.”

“My third cup, so that ain’t it.” She set the cup down and looked at me more closely. “How ‘bout ‘cuz you’re here, and ‘cuz I’m not blind. What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Janey. I had to pull the kids off last night. Brice was drinking and Tawney was high. Jacob and I finished their shift.”

She said nothing for a full minute before saying, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Everything’s good. We caught it before there was any damage to the firing, and everything’s still right on schedule.”

“Okay. Good.” She took another pull of her coffee. “So now we’ve established what you aren’t not telling me. S’pose you save me some trouble and tell me what you are.”

I felt like a school kid, standing there, so I walked over and sat across the table from her. “Brice got violent. Jacob had to get physical in order to get him to leave. Tawney . . . ah . . . she didn’t want to go with him. With Brice.”

She got up, refilled her cup from a Mr. Coffee, then poured me one and sat back down. “Kez. I appreciate that you kept the firing on track. But I need to know exactly what happened. It’s my kiln and my property, so I’m responsible. You can just tell me, or I can pry it out of you like I’m some damned detective. What’s it gonna be?”

I sighed, then took a sip of the coffee. Execrable, but it would do in a pinch. For medicinal purposes, as it were. “We turned over the shift at midnight and I stayed to watch them through a couple rounds of stoking. They looked okay, so I went to bed. I woke up, probably 2:30 or so, and I didn’t hear the kiln doors opening and closing like I should, so I went over to check it out. I smelled weed half way there. The kiln was about 100 degrees lower than it should have been and dropping, so I stoked it. Brice kept telling me it was fine. Then I went over to Tawney and confirmed that her eyes were dilated, she’d been smoking pot and was out of it.

“Then. . . ah . . . Brice threw me to the ground and tried to load more wood in the back of the kiln. He was going to heave it in, right into the pots. So I rushed him, and he dropped the wood. On his foot.”

“He was barefoot?” Janey sounded disgusted.

“At that point, yeah. Not when he showed up!”

“Idiot,” she muttered. “Okay. Go on.”

“Well, he was hopping around, so I closed the kiln door. He grabbed my arm, spun me around and kind of tossed me to the ground. That’s when Jacob showed up and gave him a gut punch. After that he was pretty much finished. He agreed to leave and Jacob agreed to let him, long as he took a field sobriety test. Tawney didn’t want to go with him, so I left her sleeping in my tent.”

She thought about it a minute more. “Okay. First things first. Are you hurt?”

“A few scrapes. Nothing.”

She continued to give me very careful scrutiny. “You’re sure?”

“Sure.”

“Did he break his foot?”

I shrugged. “No idea. I mean, it clearly hurt when it happened, but it didn’t seem to slow him down when he came after me.”

She reached over and patted my hand. “Okay. Look, you did good. You should have called me – you know that’s the kind of emergency I should deal with – but you handled it well. I’m gonna need to give Debbie a full report, and she can decide what happens to them in terms of their class. Their education, for that matter. She’ll need to send someone else next week to pick up their wares when we open the kiln. The question I’ve got for you is . . . .”

She broke off. We heard the sound of her dogs sounding off, loud and strong. She gave me a puzzled look, set down her cup, and charged outside, shouting. “Quincy! Maddy! Jackson! Come!!!!”

I got up and followed, feeling generally sore all over. Outside, I heard the dogs continuing to bark – it sounded like it was coming from the parking area – and I followed Janey to see what was going on.

The dogs were circling a car that had pulled in, and Janey successfully managed to get them back.

It was a police car.

Once the dogs were clear, two officers stepped out. Both were men. The driver was in his mid-forties and stocky; the passenger was younger, sandy-haired, and on the tall side. They looked at the dogs warrily.

The older officer took the lead. “Hey, Janey.”

“Fred.”

“Uh – we got a complaint this morning. Kid claims he was assaulted while he was working on your kiln last night.”

I stayed silent. This was Janey’s domain, and she knew the players.

“Okay. So you’ve got a complaint. We might have one, too. You planning on making some arrests or something?”

“Not yet, Janey. But we got to investigate. Check it out. If we can talk to the people who were there, we might be able to avoid making any arrests.”

She chewed on that. “But everything they say can be used against them in court, right?”

He shrugged. “You know how it is, Janey.”

I decided to speak up. “I was there, and I’m willing to answer your questions.”

Janey shot me a look. “You don’t have to, Kez. You know that.”

“It’s okay.” I told her.

Janey’s face had a sour look. “Your call.” She turned her attention back to the police, “Fred, this is my night shift supervisor, Keziah Brown. Kez, this is Officer Fred Prescott.”

“Sergeant,” he said, with a half smile.

“Sergeant?” Janey looked pleased despite herself. “Well, good for you! And past time, for whatever my opinion’s worth.”

“Thanks, Janey,” he said. “There’s a ‘Kez’ on the list of people I wanted to talk to.”

She shrugged. “Look, Fred, I got a firing to run. You want to talk to Kez, I’m happy to let you use the kitchen up at the house.”

“That’s fine,” he told her. “But we’d also like to speak with” – he checked his notes – “Tawney Mason and someone named ‘Jacob.’ I don’t have a last name.”

“I’ll find out if they’re here – and if they’re willing to talk to you,” Janey said.

“Janey . . . if they run off, we’re gonna need to grab ’em.” He sounded apologetic.

“I’ll bear it in mind,” she growled, then pointed at the house. “Kitchen. Now!”

They brought me up to the house and we sat in the kitchen. I went through my story with them – again – then answered their questions.

After several questions, the Sergeant looked at me and said, “Just so I’m clear, you confirm that Jacob Harmon hit Mr. Carson somewhere in the stomach, then held him down by his neck?”

“Yes. But I want to be very clear: he did so to prevent Mr. Carson from continuing to attack me.”

He looked up from his notes, and his eyes were not unfriendly. “I understand, Miss. We got that part, honest.”

I was tempted to let it go, but decided I’d better not. “Ummm . . . I hate to have to say this, but it’s not ‘Miss.’ Technically, I’m a ‘Mister.’” Mighta looked more believable if I’d had time to get my turban.

His eyes popped. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry!”

I waved it off. “Don’t be. I don’t get worked up about it, but I thought your report had better be accurate.”

“I . . . ah . . . I see,” he stammered. More strongly, he said, “Mr. Carson indicates that he was robbed. Can you comment on that?”

I must have looked baffled; for sure, I felt baffled. “No idea what he’s talking about. He may have left stuff behind when he drove off, but no one took it from him.”

“Okay,” he said. “I think we’re done with our questions. Based on what you’ve told me, do you want to press charges against Mr. Carson?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not operating on a lot of sleep. Charges for what?”

“Assault and battery. Maybe disturbing the peace.”

“Oh . . . ah. No. I mean, if he intends to press any charges, against anyone, I’ll absolutely press charges. He broke Janey’s rules – practically all of them – he attacked first, and Jacob was just trying to keep him from hurting me or anyone else. Including himself. But . . . long as he clears out and doesn’t try to make any trouble, I’m willing to let it lie. He was stupid to drink while trying to fire a kiln at twenty-two hundred degrees, and even stupider, if that’s a word, once he was drunk. But I don’t think ‘stupid’ is a crime.”

“Okay,” the sergeant said. “If you're sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He looked a bit relieved. Less paperwork, I imagine. “Before you go . . . . I see you’ve got scrapes on your legs and arms. Can I take a closer look?”

I shrugged. “Sure. Okay.”

After he was done, he said, “Thanks. If you can find Mr. Harmon, we’d appreciate it. Uhh . . . you should probably put something on those scrapes. And clean them out, thoroughly.”

I nodded and went outside. I wasn’t surprised to see Janey, Jacob and Tawney all in the yard, each effectively in their own corners.

“I figured they wouldn’t want anyone coordinating stories,” Janey explained.

Jacob looked calm, rested and unconcerned. “Are you willing to talk to them?” I asked.

He gave me a smile. “Of course.”

“You’re up, then.”

He went in.

“Tawney?” I asked.

“Yeah?” she responded.

“You okay?

She nodded, a bit jerky. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about last night. I just . . . .”

I cut her off. “It’s okay. We can talk later. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

She nodded again, stronger this time. “I’m okay. Really.”

I sat down across from Janey at one of the picnic tables. “Is everything okay down at the kiln?”

“Yep. The gals are sitting around chatting ’til we’re done up here, and Bill and Gary are on shift. We’re at 2200 and everything looks good.”

“I can cover a shift this afternoon if you need it.”

She grunted. “We’ll see.”

The sun felt good on my shoulders. I closed my eyes and put my head down on the table. God I felt tired. At some point I must have fallen asleep.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I woke to the sound of voices talking in hushed tones nearby.

“You should nail his ass!” Janey. “He filed a false report. He attacked Kez. And add what he said? Dammit Fred, it sounds like a hate crime!”

Ah, shit. So Jacob and Tawney must have gotten into that part. I kept my head down.

“His report wasn’t false, exactly. He said Harmon hit him; everyone agrees that happened. He didn’t say he’d started it, but he didn’t say he hadn’t, either. . . . And . . . based on what everyone said, he wasn’t going at your supervisor because of the transexual thing. It’s more like he just threw that stuff out in the heat of the moment.”

“How do you know? Jesus, Fred, I’m so mad about this I can’t see straight! Besides, it’s transgender. Where you been, the past twenty years?”

I decided I had better intervene. “Janey?” I raised my head.

She looked back at me, and man, she wasn’t kidding. You could break rocks with her expression.

“Janey, thanks. Really. But I didn’t mention what Brice said, ’cuz I agree with Sergeant Prescott. He tossed me around because I caught him breaking your rules and called him on it. The words . . . yeah, they were meant to sting. But it’s not why he did it.”

The sergeant came over and sat across from me. “You still should have told us, Mr. Brown.”

“Keziah. Please. So much easier, that way,” I said.

He nodded his acquiescence. “Keziah, then. I thought your friend was making it up, ’till Miss Mason confirmed what he said.”

Oops. “Okay. Sorry about that, and I should have thought of it. I just . . . damn. I just really didn’t want to deal with the whole gender thing. It’s not important.”

He gave me a shrewd look. “Or, maybe it is important, but you’d still rather not have to deal with it?”

I acknowledged the hit with half a smile. “Maybe.”

“You can still press charges on the assault and battery claim.”

I shook my head. “What I said before still stands.”

“Okay,” he said. “It’s your call. If Carson’s got any brains at all – if – he’ll stop trying to make trouble and he’ll get out of town in a hurry. No one here has any time for that sort of . . . ah . . . behavior.”

“Thanks.” It occurred to me to ask, “Is Tawney alright?” Neither she nor Jacob were in evidence.

“She . . . ah . . . neither confirmed nor denied possessing or using marijuana. It would only be a citation even if we had evidence – no different than a traffic ticket. So . . . we don’t intend to pursue it. Her testimony with respect to Mr. Carson was very helpful.”

I shook my head. “Good to know, but that wasn’t really what I meant. She . . . she wasn’t hurt, was she?”

His eyes crinkled in understanding. “No. She wasn’t completely positive that would have been the case, though, if you hadn’t showed up when you did.”

“Ah.” I thought that’s what I had been seeing.

Just then Jacob made an appearance, moving so silently that he gave no warning he was coming. “Sergeant Prescott,” he said, approaching the older man. “Looks like some of Mr. Carson’s stuff is down by the kiln. No one’s touched it.”

“Ah – that’s helpful.” Turning to Janey, he said, “I got no warrant, Janey, and it’s your place.”

“Go on,” she said. “If he’s got stuff there, you can take it and give it back to him, far as I’m concerned. Might want to take pictures before you do, though.”

“I’d be happier if you came with us,” he replied. “I don’t want to pick up any of your stuff by accident.”

“Alright,” she said. “Time I checked in on Bill’n Gary, anyhow. And I’ll tell the gals the house is available as well.” She got up and accompanied the officers down the hill.

Jacob came and joined me. “You feel as bad as you look?”

“Haven’t seen a mirror this morning. Do you feel as goddam chipper as you look?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Truth is, I am starting to feel a bit tired.”

“Can’t imagine why. Though, I’m glad it’s not just me. . . . I hope the police weren’t any trouble?”

“None.” He snorted. “Brice is an idiot. Maybe he thought Tawney would back up his story, though I have no idea how he thought she would figure out what it was. I can’t imagine she did, anyhow. Didn’t hurt that I carry a tin.”

“Tin?” I asked.

“A badge.” He opened his wallet, and there it was, in all its enameled glory. “U.S. Forest Service, but a tin’s a tin. If I’m caught in a lie they’d crucify me – and rightly so – but they’re not going to bust me on the say-so of some snotty hung-over college kid.”

“Doesn’t seem very fair,” I observed.

“It’s not,” he said. “And God knows, it gets abused. But I was on the side of truth, justice and the American Way today, so I’m not going to sweat it.”

My expression was a bit sour. “A fair number of upstanding citizens don’t think I’m part of the ‘American Way.’”

“A fair number of ‘upstanding’ citizens have a problem with the Declaration of Independence. It’s still the American Way.”

“Believe me, Superman, I’m not arguing!” I smiled.

He smiled back. It was a nice smile. “I told them I thought you should be the one pressing charges. Will you?”

“No. Not unless he wants to press charges against you or Janey. Or me, I suppose.”

He gave me a long look. “Why not?”

I shrugged, uncomfortable. “He was a drunk jerk. If we locked up every drunk jerk, the prisons would be overflowing.”

“It’s not something you get jail time for,” he said absently, before adding, “Please don’t tell me it’s not a big deal. That attack was bad, and it was about to get worse.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

His expression softened, and he reached out and covered my hand with one of his. “It’s because of the transgender angle, isn’t it?”

I looked away. “Yes. Partly.”

“You don’t think that’s even more of a reason to press charges?”

I looked back at him. So solid. Grounded. How to explain this? How can a Boy Scout understand my world? I sighed. “Look, I don’t think it’s why he attacked me. But if I press charges, that’s suddenly what this will be all about, won’t it? I don’t want to get dragged into some goddamned culture war, just ’cuz a stupid kid got drunk and disorderly.”

“Only one way to deal with bullies,” he countered.

I snorted. “I know. Really. And maybe I ought to take up the banner, and strike a blow against hatred and bigotry and all the rest. But . . . Jacob, I just want to live my life. If people think of me, I want them to think of my pottery. I want them, maybe, to think I’m an artist. Not a ‘trans artist,’ or a ‘gender-fluid artist.’ Just . . . Keziah Brown, Potter.”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand. I think I do, anyway. But . . . it’s got to eat at you.” His voice was soft. Concerned.

“It’s better now. I can go weeks – months, even – without having anyone throw it in my face. Back in middle school and high school . . . then, it was rough.” An image from gym class suddenly and vividly pulsed painfully in my memory. “Probably any boy who looked like me – much less felt and acted like me – has heard all the insults. And worse. I learned to cope. Mom and Dad helped me, that way. And I had friends. That helped, too.”

He shook his head. “Until today, I didn’t even see the scars. You seemed so . . . I don’t know? Comfortable in your skin?”

I looked into his frank brown eyes and smiled, a bit sadly. “Some of that’s my folks’ influence; most of it’s Kara’s. But I can’t say it doesn’t hurt. People who claim to love and respect women think less of me because I have a strong feminine streak. I don’t get it and I never have. But that’s the world, and nothing little ol’ me does is gonna fix it.”

“Hopefully having friends still helps.”

I felt a prick of tears and suppressed it. Putting my free hand on top of his, I said, “I couldn’t make it without them, Jacob. And . . . thanks. I hate admitting that it still bothers me, even now.”

We heard the sound of voices on the path, so we extracted ourselves from the picnic table.

Before I could say anything, Sug spoke up. “Hey Kez – did you manage to get some sleep?”

I nodded. “I did, thanks!

Tatiana said, “Janey told us, in no uncertain terms, to take care of your scrapes.”

I nodded. “No worries; I’ve got a first aid kit in the truck. I’ll take care of it.”

Tatiana just shook her head. “What part of ‘no uncertain terms’ did you miss? Sit down; Janey’s kit’s in the kitchen. I’ll be right out.”

“Honest, guys, it’s . . . .”

Tatiana cut me off. “It’s Janey’s world, kid. We just live here.”

Laughing, I sat down and decided to bow to the inevitable with whatever grace I could muster.

Tatiana was soon fussing over me with a wash cloth, then spraying an antibacterial formula on the affected areas. “Lots of scrapes, but nothing that really needs a bandage. I’d tell you to keep it clean, but it’s a firing. You can’t. So . . . just wash and re-apply when you’re off shift.”

I stood. “Thanks, Tatiana.” Sug had hovered nearby, but first aid is a bit too practical for her skill set. “Let me go talk to Janey about the schedule.”

“Feel free,” Tatiana said, “But I’ll tell you now it’s up in the air with Brice out of the picture. And . . . I think I dinged my shoulder stoking the upper chamber. Sug here can’t do a whole four hours of that, so she’s gonna have to break us up, too.”

“She’s going to let Tawney back on shift?” I was surprised. Janey takes a dim view of rule violations.

Sug snorted. “Let her? Are you kidding? The kid’s going to be doing double duty if Janey has her way!”

“Which,” Tatiana added needlessly, “She almost always does.”

“I’m glad,” I said. And I was. Tawney didn’t strike me as a particularly strong personality, and she could learn a lot from being around this lot. Especially without her greasy boyfriend to get her going off the rails.

Jacob and I started down the path, but Tatiana called me. “Ah . . . Kez?”

I looked back, a question on my face.

“I hate to break it to you, but the seam on your shorts is split, and it looks like it’s spreading.”

I shook my head in disgust. “Of course it is. Damn! Well, thanks for the heads up. I need to go change, anyways.”

The police were leaving as we got to the parking area. “Find everything you were looking for?” I asked.

Sergeant Prescott nodded, a smile on his face. “Everything on Carson’s list. Shirt, shoes, wallet. The item he forgot to mention was his backpack, which is where his wallet was. Along with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. About two thirds full.”

I shook my head. “Idiot.”

“Our tax dollars at work, educating that one,” Prescott said, disgusted. They drove off.

When we got to the kiln, Janey was going over the schedule on her phone. She looked up when she heard us . . . well, heard me, since Jacob doesn’t make noise when he walks. “Can I break you two up? Jacob, I’d like to pair you up with Sug on a shift; I don’t want Tatiana doing any more lifting this firing. And Kez, I’d like to have you on with Tawney.”

We looked at each other. Jacob smiled and shrugged. “I’m here to help.”

“Hundred percent, Janey,” I said. “But we both need a bit of rest first.”

“Can one of you do a noon shift?” she asked.

Before Jacob could answer, I said, “I’m in. You probably don’t want Sug on again that soon.”

Janey nodded. “Okay. Rack out. The rest of the schedule’s gonna be a bitch now. Sorry.”

* * * * *

Janey was right – the rest of the firing was hard. We were short-handed before we lost Brice and had to take Tatiana off duty, and most of the other participants had front-loaded their scheduled shifts so they could leave early.

The ambient temperature hit the high eighties, which definitely didn’t help, and of course it was much hotter around the kiln, which hit its full-throated burn at 2400 degrees. Worse still, I had to do it all in long pants since my shorts were a lost cause.

Probably just as well I was a bit more protected though, since I slipped on a ladder while I was putting out a bit of a fire on the beams of the roof that covered the kiln enclosure. Fire coming from the air intakes for the upper firebox had caused the overhead beams to smolder in the late afternoon sun. I was more clumsy than usual and I banged my tailbone when I landed, but I’d have torn my leg on a loose nailhead but for the cargo pants, which tore in place of my flesh. A bargain for sure.

Tawney was my partner on two shifts, and I had some good conversations with her. She was terribly embarrassed by what had happened the prior evening, and eager as a puppy to get in my good graces. Clearly she was worried about what would happen with college. But eventually she calmed down enough to have a reasonable discussion.

“I thought we were in love,” she’d told me. “I sure thought I was in love. But . . . I didn’t really know him. I was such an idiot! Thinking it would be cool and romantic, you know? The two of us, a starry night, working a kiln together?”

I’d given her shoulder a squeeze. “Love takes practice. But . . . when it’s right, you’ll know. I promise.”

“How long have you and Jacob been together?”

I’d looked at her like she had two heads. “Me and Jacob? Whatever gave you that idea? I’m married to a stunning, perfect, beautiful woman.”

She shook her head, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry! We just assumed . . . .” Her voice trailed off in confusion.

I was exasperated. “You know what they say about assuming!” But, seeing her deer-in-the-headlights look, I relented and said, as gently as I could, “Tawney . . . gender can be complicated. So can sexual orientation. But love is simple . . . even if it comes in forms people don’t expect.”

She was with me when active firing finally finished at midnight. I walked her through the process of closing up the intakes with paste, so as to lengthen the cool-down time. When we’d sealed up the last crack, Jacob gave her a ride into town. Brice had cleared out, but she still had the room in the motel where they had been staying. Tatiana lived down near NHTI, and she was going to give her a ride home the next day.

I stayed awake until Jacob got back. We were both tired at that point, and I was worried. But when he came down the hill, we headed across the field to our tents. It was still warm, and I thought sleep was going to be tough to sustain. “Jacob – thanks so much for being here. We’d have been in a real pickle if you weren’t.”

He smiled. “It’s my pleasure, Kez. Really.”

I looked at him again. Solid. Decent. “I hope . . . .” I stopped, embarrassed.

He studied me for a moment. “You hope?”

I touched his shoulder lightly. “I just hope Breanna appreciates you properly. You’re a gem.”

“Like Kara appreciates you?” His question was soft.

I felt the color rise in my cheeks.

* * * * *

Sleep came easily, but a dream, steamy and embarrassing, had me awake and fretting in the predawn hours. In my dream, I had been all woman . . . and I had been sharing a bed with Jacob. It had felt so real . . . every muted color in the darkened room, where a shaft of moonlight illuminated Jacob’s handsome features; the smell of musk and sweat and sex; the taste of salt as I nuzzled his neck, my moist lips eager. He was deep inside me and my legs wrapped around him possessively. As his hand closed around my full breast, I gasped with pleasure . . . .

Dammit, I thought, as, waking, I stripped off what had been my last clean undershirt and underwear. Dammit!!! What is WRONG with me?

To be continued . . . .