One Degree of Separation by Karin Kallmaker Page A

her hitherto useless history degree and her years of experience could net her a job in collection development and perhaps eventually the management of a specialized historical collection. Even being a library manager—administrative headaches and all—had a certain appeal.
    She really would be a guardian then, a keeper of dreams. Hemma had shown her that she could have that future. It was a gift and she would always love Hemma for it.
    “What is that? It smells divine!” Hemma took the covered pan from Marian and sniffed again. “Flan?”
    “Chocolate almond flan, and still warm the way you like it.”
    “You are the most wonderful woman.” Hemma hurried to the kitchen. “The pasties are just about done.”
    “Pasties!” Marian worried abruptly that she’d forgotten it was a special occasion. Pasties were her favorite, her absolute favorite.
    Amy came skipping down the stairs. “Heya. And hamburger milk gravy.”
    “Oh, what have I done to deserve this?”
    Amy skittered to a stop halfway across the living room. “Forgot something. I’ll be right back down.” Marian continued through the house to the kitchen.
    Hemma was flushed as she lifted a cookie sheet from the oven.
    “They’re done.”
    “Done and perfect,” Marian breathed. The half-moon pockets were golden on top and brown at the edges. The savory aroma of shredded beef, onions and potatoes made her feel a bit faint. “My pie crust will never be as good as yours no matter how much you try to teach me.”
    Hemma’s back was to her when she answered. “You make great pies.”
    “They’ll never beat yours. I can’t wait until the berries come in this summer. I’ll pick all you want.” She got herself a glass of water.
    When she turned back she intercepted a strange look between Hemma and Amy.
    Not sure what was up with her friends, Marian held back her announcement until they were all at the table. Over a plate loaded with a pasty, gravy, steamed broccoli and corn-on-the-cob, she said,
    “I’m going to get my M.L.S.”
    Amy grinned in mid-chew. “Brava, girlfriend!” Hemma paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Honey, that’s wonderful . When did you decide?”
    “Yesterday, when my period wouldn’t start.”
    “Are you sure large life decisions should be made by hormones?” Amy licked butter off her fingers.
    “I’ve had plenty of non-hormonal time to think it through.” Marian frowned. “Now I’m not sure why I waited so long. I’d rather be done now than just beginning.”
    “You’re a look-before-you-leap girl. It’s exactly what you need to do.” Hemma salted her corn. “It’s important to take professional aspirations ... seriously.”
    Amy excused herself for another beer.
    “It’s thanks to you, you know.” Marian wanted to say more. She wanted to say there had never been anyone else in her life who had reached inside her and flipped on the poise, aspiration and determi-nation the way that Hemma had.
    “You’d have gotten there on your own.”
    “The pasties are incredible, thank you. What a treat.” Hemma sipped her water. Quietly, she said, “I treasure your friendship, Marian.”
    Amy slid back into her chair. “We both do.” Neither of them would meet her gaze. Marian didn’t know what to think. She opened her mouth to ask, but the phone rang and Hemma hurried off to answer it.
    She scraped broccoli remains into the composter while she worried that she had somehow made them nervous. Did they suspect how she felt about Hemma? Had they caught her spying on them?
    They’d had seconds of the warm flan and moved to the living room when Marian couldn’t stand it any longer. “Something’s up. What is it?”
    To her shock, Hemma’s face crumpled in distress. Amy patted her partner’s knee and said, “This is really hard. The hardest part.”
    “I don’t understand.” They knew. She’d given herself away somehow. She wanted to say how sorry she was, how embarrassed and sad, and how she