The Painting

#51 Patience - Foighne

It was after nine when I closed up at White Pine and the sun had just set over the tree line as I made my way to the cabin. An hour before closing Grace called Lyle out to help her finish folding a load of laundry and I squinted in the evening light to see if they were still out there. Neither of the women were visible and I shrugged, they must have gone into the house through the side door.

It took a week for Grace to fully warm up to Lyle though she stayed cautious for me still worried that Lyle would leave. In the back of my mind I paralleled her worry, would Lyle stay? For how long? She had a life beyond White Pine's cozy corner of Maine's wilderness. Wouldn't she go back to Beth and Ivy? Or wherever she lived before - if there was a place?

With thoughts of the future on my mind I opened the door to my cabin and fumbled for the light switch.

Lyle stood in the middle of the room but I didn't flinch at the sight.

"What are you-" I started as my eyes trailed down to her hands.

A plate stacked with pancakes dripped generously with melted chocolate and blueberries. Sticking out of the top of the creation were five candles. Lyle grinned mischievously.

"Grace told me it was tomorrow so I figured we celebrate a little early."

I raised an eyebrow. "You two have reconciled?"

"She couldn't resist my charms any longer." Lyle winked at me and set the cake down on the scratched coffee table next to a bottle of wine. "So how old are we?"

"23."

"Thank god, I feel like less of a cougar now."

I punched her playfully in the shoulder as we met in the middle of the room and kissed.

For weeks we slept next to each other, careful to keep the appropriate distance. When we held hands it was cautious and we convinced ourselves that the action was just that, holding hands and nothing more. A comfort rather than a sentiment or confession of romance or adoration. There never seemed like a 'right moment', but in truth maybe every moment was the right one - we just never took the opportunity.

Not until our talk in the woods. Now our feelings were out there, creating a pool of our shared thoughts and we soaked in it until our fingers and thumbs became pruned.

That morning I'd woken up in in her arms, my back pressed to her front we curled into a ball underneath the covers. Her sleepy arm draped loosely over my hip and I had waited in thought - afraid that any movement would wake her – until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to see her.

It was four in the morning, and surprisingly I'd woken naturally from my sleep. The summer sun had yet to peek over the horizon and I traced the outline of Lyle's face with my eyes. I knew every detail, every nook, every dimple and freckle.

After last night there was nothing foreign to me.

A blush had risen to my cheeks as I replayed last night's events.

"If there's a bug on my face I'd like for you to get it off rather than just stare at it." Lyle's voice had interrupted my thoughts.

Her voice was low and rough when she woke and I couldn't help but feel a tingle run down my spine as she pulled me closer. My had nose brushed hers and without opening her eyes she brought her lips to mine.

I smiled just as I did now when Lyle pulled away, her hands resting on either side of my face she stroked my cheek with her thumb. "I noticed you added a new drawing to the collage." Lyle indicated upstairs from her place on the couch.