many more mishaps, the threesome arrived at the door and managed to close the door on the night.
Dropping her duffle with a thump, Laurel grabbed Brodie’s arm. “Isn’t it time for a hug?”
Brodie’s cocoa-brown eyes, melted into pools of deep chocolate, as she wrapped both arms around Laurel. In a low voice, she said, “I’ve been so worried about you.”
With her chin tucked into Brodie’s neck, eyes closed, Laurel said, “I know. I could feel it.” She inhaled the fragrance of Brodie that always seemed to carry just a faint mixture of spicy and sweet, like jasmine mixed with cinnamon.
As natural as the wind sighing in the longleaf pines the hug was followed by a kiss. As their lips met, Laurel’s present stopped and time didn’t exist. Just the sensation of sweet, sweet peace. A peace that was igniting into a burning passion.
Brodie, pulled away from the embrace. She pointed to two tapered candles in the center of the drop-leaf walnut table. “Those are going to burn up and dinner is getting cold.”
Jackson nuzzled the two women apart with his snout, nudging Laurel’s stomach.
“Yes, yes, you marvelous beast. I love you too.” She knelt on the ceramic tiles and hugged the subdued dog around his middle. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Returning to the present after the time-stopping millennia shared with the love of her life, “I love living life with you.”
Brodie stopped slicing the flaky pie crust as the white sauce oozed out. “Wash your hands and sit down at the table, you vixen. If you keep this up, we won’t have dinner.”
Laurel rocked back on the heels of her feet, marveling at the tender glow on Brodie’s face. The face of an angel. “Would that be so bad?”
Brodie continued to place the slices of chicken pot pie on the blue and white china plates. She arched an eyebrow and gave Laurel a quizzical stare. Stopping mid-motion, “Do you mean it?”
Laurel gave a howl of denial, “No, I’m starving!”
After placing the pie pan on the kitchen counter, Brodie pulled out the sturdy antique walnut chair with a flourish for Laurel. “Please, be seated my weary journeyer.”
Mimicking a slight curtsey, Laurel sat.
Brodie took her place on the other side of the charming table setting. “Bon appetite!” she said.
Laurel winked at her as her fork sliced through the crust, causing pearl onions, peas and carrots to peek out. “Mouthwatering,” she said. “I forgot to wash my hands.”
Brodie picked up a bottle of pinot noir wine. She began filling the two empty goblets next to the two water goblets that had condensation running down the sides from the icy water. She stared at Laurel as she picked up her wine glass.
Laurel got the message and set her fork back on the edge of the plate. She lifted the large rounded goblet of red wine. “To dirty hands?” she said, as a grin lifted her cheeks.
“To living life with a cup half-full, never half-empty.” Brodie touched her glass to Laurel’s. “Those dirty hands don’t bother me, if they don’t bother you!”
Eying Brodie across the candlelit table, Laurel swallowed and said, “I detect black cherry, plum and something spicy in this bouquet of grapes.”
“There must be more than that. I paid at least seven dollars on sale for this bottle.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to so much expense, dear heart!” Laurel gave a giddy chuckle as she took another deep swallow. Oh, life was good.
“Can you talk about your trip?” Brodie asked with some hesitation.
While devouring two slices of the home-made chicken pot pie chased down with two and a half glasses of wine, Laurel gave a detailed description of the entire trip.
Brodie listened with the thoughtful intensity of a sage guru, as she sipped three goblets of water. Listening to the undertones of the words being said, she heard the weary sadness of the words not being said.
The candles had gone from ten inches to two inches by the time Laurel’s flow of
Dropping her duffle with a thump, Laurel grabbed Brodie’s arm. “Isn’t it time for a hug?”
Brodie’s cocoa-brown eyes, melted into pools of deep chocolate, as she wrapped both arms around Laurel. In a low voice, she said, “I’ve been so worried about you.”
With her chin tucked into Brodie’s neck, eyes closed, Laurel said, “I know. I could feel it.” She inhaled the fragrance of Brodie that always seemed to carry just a faint mixture of spicy and sweet, like jasmine mixed with cinnamon.
As natural as the wind sighing in the longleaf pines the hug was followed by a kiss. As their lips met, Laurel’s present stopped and time didn’t exist. Just the sensation of sweet, sweet peace. A peace that was igniting into a burning passion.
Brodie, pulled away from the embrace. She pointed to two tapered candles in the center of the drop-leaf walnut table. “Those are going to burn up and dinner is getting cold.”
Jackson nuzzled the two women apart with his snout, nudging Laurel’s stomach.
“Yes, yes, you marvelous beast. I love you too.” She knelt on the ceramic tiles and hugged the subdued dog around his middle. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Returning to the present after the time-stopping millennia shared with the love of her life, “I love living life with you.”
Brodie stopped slicing the flaky pie crust as the white sauce oozed out. “Wash your hands and sit down at the table, you vixen. If you keep this up, we won’t have dinner.”
Laurel rocked back on the heels of her feet, marveling at the tender glow on Brodie’s face. The face of an angel. “Would that be so bad?”
Brodie continued to place the slices of chicken pot pie on the blue and white china plates. She arched an eyebrow and gave Laurel a quizzical stare. Stopping mid-motion, “Do you mean it?”
Laurel gave a howl of denial, “No, I’m starving!”
After placing the pie pan on the kitchen counter, Brodie pulled out the sturdy antique walnut chair with a flourish for Laurel. “Please, be seated my weary journeyer.”
Mimicking a slight curtsey, Laurel sat.
Brodie took her place on the other side of the charming table setting. “Bon appetite!” she said.
Laurel winked at her as her fork sliced through the crust, causing pearl onions, peas and carrots to peek out. “Mouthwatering,” she said. “I forgot to wash my hands.”
Brodie picked up a bottle of pinot noir wine. She began filling the two empty goblets next to the two water goblets that had condensation running down the sides from the icy water. She stared at Laurel as she picked up her wine glass.
Laurel got the message and set her fork back on the edge of the plate. She lifted the large rounded goblet of red wine. “To dirty hands?” she said, as a grin lifted her cheeks.
“To living life with a cup half-full, never half-empty.” Brodie touched her glass to Laurel’s. “Those dirty hands don’t bother me, if they don’t bother you!”
Eying Brodie across the candlelit table, Laurel swallowed and said, “I detect black cherry, plum and something spicy in this bouquet of grapes.”
“There must be more than that. I paid at least seven dollars on sale for this bottle.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to so much expense, dear heart!” Laurel gave a giddy chuckle as she took another deep swallow. Oh, life was good.
“Can you talk about your trip?” Brodie asked with some hesitation.
While devouring two slices of the home-made chicken pot pie chased down with two and a half glasses of wine, Laurel gave a detailed description of the entire trip.
Brodie listened with the thoughtful intensity of a sage guru, as she sipped three goblets of water. Listening to the undertones of the words being said, she heard the weary sadness of the words not being said.
The candles had gone from ten inches to two inches by the time Laurel’s flow of
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