Triple Exposure Read online

  “You want to learn to ride, honey?” Beth asked him.

  “Yeah. Can I?”

  “Do you teach riding, Meg?”

  Now Nicky understood. Brittle was going to pay for his keep. She grasped her arms, feeling the fire of the sun on her skin, as she listened to Beth and Meg make tentative arrangements for lessons. Then in front of Beth, she asked Meg, “Doing anything tonight?”

  “Nope. Denise is out of town visiting her parents.” Meg carried the Western saddle into the milk room and stood it on its pommel. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Why don’t we eat here and then go out?” Nicky suggested. “Let me walk Beth and Matt to their car. Be right back.”

  “This evening was your idea,” she said, looking into the Probe at Beth. It gave her a perverse pleasure. “Bye, Matt.”

  “Hope you have a good time,” Beth said.

  She watched, enveloped by dust, as the Probe sped out of the driveway.

  ***

  While Meg finished up with Brittle, Nicky warmed up Ragu, cooked spaghetti and put together tossed salad. When they sat down to eat that evening, she asked Meg about Denise. The overhead fan whirred quietly, keeping the hot air in motion.

  “I’ve been with Denise nearly seven years now, ever since I was twenty-six. She’s thirteen years older than I am and thinks we should buy a house.” Curling spaghetti around her fork, she frowned. “I know I should tell her I still have Brittle, but these lessons will help pay for his keep.” She looked at Nicky as if asking for approval.

  Nicky shrugged. “I don’t understand, I guess, because I don’t think anyone should tell you how to spend your money. Maybe I’ve been alone too long.”

  A strand of spaghetti swiped her chin on its way to her mouth. Wiping her face with a napkin, she changed the subject. “What do you want to do tonight?”

  “We could go to a movie or get a video.”

  “Let’s go out,” Nicky said. “Sometimes I need to get away from here, and tonight is one of those times.”

  “Anyone you want to talk about?”

  “Not really.” She was looking for distraction, not soul-searching.

  ***

  After the movie, they went to the only gay bar in the Valley. “You sure you want to do this?” Nicky asked, noticing Meg’s nervousness, her furtive glances.

  “Why shouldn’t we be here together?” Meg asked defensively, squaring her shoulders. “Want to dance?”

  The music reverberated off the walls and ceilings, a relentless pounding beat, making normal conversation impossible. They joined the couples on the dance floor, moving to their own rhythm. An hour passed, then two, while they drank beer, danced, breathed the hot smoky air and shouted to each other and anyone they recognized. The back door was open and often Nicky stepped outside to look at the clear night, to ease the hammering in her ears and to escape from the heat and smoke.

  “You coming out tomorrow?” Nicky asked on the drive home.

  “Probably. I have to take care of Brittle, and Denise won’t be home till late afternoon.”

  ***

  Around ten a.m. Sunday Nicky started watching for Beth’s Probe, peering up the road toward town. By one she was pissed, at three-thirty she was furious. Meg arrived early afternoon and left a few minutes before Beth showed up at five. Nicky was in a rage.

  “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get away.” Beth followed Nicky toward the house. She placed a hand on Nicky’s arm, only to have it shaken off.

  Opening the screen door, Nicky fell over Scrappy. He let out a yelp that raised goose bumps all over her. “Damn, fucking dog.” She slammed the door, shutting him outside.

  Beth laughed, covering her mouth with a hand when Nicky shot her a filthy look. “Oops. Sorry, sweetie. You gave him a bath, didn’t you?”

  “I had lots of time on my hands. I had to do something with it.” She had not only given him a scrubbing, noticing his ribby condition, but had also fed him some real dog food she had picked up with the groceries. He had wormed his way into her life. “And I’m not your sweetie. Mark is. He’s the one you choose to live with. So what do you want with me?” she asked peevishly, detesting herself for it.

  “I love you.” Beth took Nicky’s arms and forcefully turned her until they faced each other. “I never promised to leave him. I think it would be impossible to work in his dad’s firm if I left him for a woman.”

  “Would he have to know?” she asked, knowing they were repeating old questions and arguments.

  “Because of Matthew, he would know. It would come out.”

  Nicky had pondered these arguments until they bored even her. She told herself not to spoil the evening with futile demands and pointless accusations.

  Looking in the grocery bags Beth had set on the table, she felt Beth move closer, her breath soft against Nicky’s cheek. To her disgust she immediately responded, warming inside, melting with love.

  “I’m cooking tonight. Shrimp stir-fry. You can entertain me with conversation and act as sous chef.” Beth began removing the contents of the bags. “What did you do last night?”

  “Went to a show and to the Cabaret.” Nicky took the shrimp to the sink to peel them.

  “Wish I could go to the Cabaret sometime,” she said wistfully.

  “I wish you could too. I’d like to dance with you instead of Meg or somebody else.”

  “You danced?” Beth asked casually.

  “Meg’s a good dancer.” She rubbed it in. “Actually, today was okay because she was here most of the day.”

  Silence followed this remark, then Beth took the shrimp out of Nicky’s hands. “Never mind these now. Let’s put them in the refrigerator. They’ll keep.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Beth was leading her toward the bedroom. “Yes, but I think we need some clarification here.”

  “Always the lawyer,” Nicky said, her face covered by the tank top Beth was pulling over her head.

  Beth removed her own shorts and shirt and dropped them to the floor with Nicky’s discarded clothing. Then, pushing Nicky back on the bed, she covered her with her body. “Let’s get this straight, okay? You’re my woman unless you tell me otherwise.”

  For some reason, those words shot a small thrill through Nicky. Still, she asked, “And does that mean you’re mine, that you don’t fuck anyone else?” She couldn’t bring herself to use Mark’s name.

  “That means I don’t make love with any other woman.”

  Nicky struggled to escape Beth’s weight, but they were an unequal match. Beth lifted weights at the health club next to her office, and Nicky exercised irregularly—usually long walks on nice days with her camera. Lately, it had been too hot even for that. She panted, breathless from the effort. “Not fair. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck, not while you’re unfaithful.”

  Beth became still. “Does that mean you’re going to do it with Meg?”

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t asked me. She has Denise.” Feeling Beth’s fingers between her legs, she knew, even before she saw Beth’s telling smile, that she was very wet. Who wouldn’t be, she thought as Beth slid down her length and off the edge of the bed. When she felt the warm, gentle touch of tongue, she wrapped her legs around Beth’s head.

  ***

  Back in the kitchen they both wore shorts without panties and undershirts without bras. Nicky finished peeling the shrimp while Beth prepared vegetables at the cutting board. Through the open window Nicky could see the huge, golden orb of sun about to drop below the treetops. Glancing at Beth, she said quietly, “I feel at peace.”

  “Me too,” Beth murmured.

  “How much do you think good sex has to do with it?”

  “It’s more than sex. I suppose it has to do with feeling loved too.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Nicky said, “but I don’t think you can have good sex without love.” It was developing into one of their typical after-sex conversations.

  “Surely you’ve
had one without the other.”

  Meaning, Nicky supposed, that Beth had good sex with Mark. “Do you still love him?” She didn’t turn away from the window, but she heard Beth sigh.

  “Yes, I love him.”

  “And, yes, you have good sex with him?”

  A deeper sigh followed. “It’s different.” Beth came up behind Nicky to wrap her in an embrace. “I can’t explain why.”

  Nicky decided not to pursue it. “Let me finish peeling these little buggers, okay? I’m starved.” The phone by the door rang, and they jumped. “My hands are smelly. You get it.”

  After listening for a few minutes, Beth sounded annoyed. “You take care of it or we’ll handle it in the morning.” She listened again, then said, “Let me talk to Matt.”

  Nicky heard the words with a sinking heart. “You can leave, you know,” she said when Beth hung up.

  “I’m not leaving. I can’t let clients govern my life. This real piece of slime is in jail and wants out. Let Mark take care of it. He’s the one who agreed to represent him. Matthew can stay with the neighbors for an hour or so. He’s over there all the time anyway.”

  But the evening lay in ruins for Nicky. She ate without tasting and only came to life when they went back to bed, when Beth coaxed her into a reluctant passion.

  Chapter Three

  Margo was gone for a week’s vacation, leaving Nicky in charge of the Art Barn. The store activities, except for matting and framing, bored Nicky. She often read behind the counter when there was nothing else to do. Today rain fell so hard that drops bounced on contact, thunder crashed and lightning streaked across the sky. What with all the noise, she barely heard the door jangle open and looked up with surprise when Mark stood at the counter. His hair, flattened by the rain, clung to his scalp and water rolled off his raincoat.

  An involuntary flush spread up Nicky’s body, working its way to her face. Even her eyes burned, and she had a difficult time meeting his steady gaze. She jumped to her feet and the book slid off her lap to the floor.

  “Reading on the job?” He lifted dark bushy eyebrows and smiled.

  Only then did she realize he knew nothing of the love affair, that he wasn’t in the store because of it. She forced a smile. “Looking for something?”

  “I need help picking out a fifteen year anniversary gift for Beth. And I thought you might be just the person to give me some advice.”

  She had never thought of him as a handsome man. His features were much too rugged. If faces were indicative of professions, she would have guessed him to be a logger or boxer, or even a farmer. He was fit, too, filling out his tall frame with muscles. She knew he and Beth went to the health club together. Did the family who exercised together stay together?

  “Did you have a painting in mind or a sculpture or some pottery?” she asked, moving out from behind the counter. Ironic that he should come to her, she thought. If she had a say in it, she’d put an end to his and Beth’s anniversaries.

  “What do you think?” he asked, a faint smile twitching the ends of his full lips.

  “She was in here the other day with Matt but she didn’t look around.”

  “She likes your photographs. She said you have some very nice prints for sale.”

  Nicky didn’t want to complicate her love for Beth by liking Mark any more than she already did. She told herself that he was just acting out Beth’s interest in her prints, not his own.

  “Do you want to show me some?” he asked.

  Realizing that she had been staring at him, she looked away in confusion. “Sure.” Thunder shook the building and lightning momentarily turned the dark day white. Rain pelted the roof.

  He followed her, talking. “I think we’re all going to be washed away. I hear you have some animal additions to your farm. Matt told me about a shaggy dog and the horse with the strange name.” Their footsteps echoed off the wood floors, a counterpoint to the rain falling on the roof.

  She had been thinking that she should put on some music. Margo believed in mellowing the customers with classical music, saying it encouraged them to buy good art. “I guess he sort of looks like peanut brittle, like his name. Meg thought Matt rode real well.”

  “So Beth said. I think she was more excited about it than he was.”

  They had reached the photography section. Most of the prints were her own. He stood before them, his hands clasped behind his back. She went back to the counter and turned on the compact disk player. A Bach piano concerto competed for their attention with the thunder and pouring rain. Returning to where he stood, she tried to see her photography through his eyes.

  “This one, a bolt of lightning and distant rain, it’s terrific.” He leaned forward to read the title, Summer Storm.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, recalling the hot day last summer, the violent storm rapidly engulfing her, forcing her to seek shelter in the barn. Today reminded her of that time, the same frightening intensity.

  There were many other framed enlargements of her work: sailboats racing on Lake Winnebago, a fiery red maple alone in a field on a cloudy fall day, day lilies along a roadside, bittersweet bushes sheathed in ice, snow on evergreens under a blue sky, a full moon setting at sunrise. She remembered taking all of them as if she had done it yesterday.

  “I think I want to buy Summer Storm and the one called Moon at Daybreak.”

  A bonanza, she thought. But could she do this? “Beth is my best friend,” she blurted.

  He turned and smiled. “Then it’s appropriate for her to have some of your photographs.”

  “But she shouldn’t have to buy them,” Nicky protested, wishing he weren’t so nice. No wonder Beth couldn’t or wouldn’t leave him.

  “She isn’t buying them. I am. Do you have anything to wrap them in?”

  Before he left Nicky asked, “When are you celebrating?”

  “Saturday.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled suggestively. A strange, hot sensation shot through her. She had never experienced such conflicting feelings—jealousy, guilt, sympathy, admiration for him, love for his wife. So, she knew Beth wouldn’t be spending Saturday with her.

  ***

  Meg called her at work later that day. “Have you been home since this storm broke?”

  “I can’t leave until five. Why?”

  “Look, I can’t get out there this evening. Will you check on Brittle? If you need to get hold of me, call me at home.”

  The rain had slowed but still fell steadily when the truck splashed down the driveway. Scrappy didn’t greet her, nor did she see Brittle. She made a run for the barn, entering by way of the milk room. The dog cowered in a corner under the blanket covering Meg’s saddle. Her last dog had been afraid of storms too.

  “You want to come inside?” He skulked toward her, head and tail hanging, only to jump and rush back to his safe place when distant thunder sounded. “Just let me look at Brittle,” she told him.

  The horse, grazing in the pasture, came running at the sight of her. Mud flew in all directions under his hooves. The area between the barn and the pasture was a thick brown sea. She poured some grain for him inside his shelter.

  Tucking Scrappy under her arm, since he refused to go out into the storm, she ran with him to the house. She had looked forward to getting home and curling up with a good book. But she found she had left a few windows open and there were lakes in those rooms. Shutting the windows, she galloped down the basement stairs to look for the mop and bucket and was met with water up to the second step.

  After running back out to the barn to get the hose and submersible pump from the milk room, she put on boots and got the pump going and then used most of her towels to wipe the upstairs.

  By the time the wood floors were dry and she was satisfied that the pump in the basement was getting the water out, the rain had stopped. Now that she had time to sit, she found she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She put her book down and listened to music, one hand resting on the dog by her side. He had emerged as soon as
the thunder stopped from wherever he had been hiding.

  Beth called. “I’m working late, sweetie. I thought I’d touch base to see how your day went? Anything float away out there?”

  She told Beth how she had spent the hours since she had come home. She did not tell her about Mark. “You the only one at the office?”

  “Yep. Working on a case. If I’d known how many undesirable characters I would have to defend, I’d have chosen some other profession.” She laughed. “Any interesting news?”

  “I sold a couple more prints today,” Nicky remarked slyly.

  “Someone has good taste. Look, I can’t come out Saturday but I’ll be there Sunday for sure.”

  Later, feeling lonely, she wandered to the porch and watched the setting sun turn the gray cloud cover yellow. The rain had cooled things off, so she put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt and walked aimlessly around the house. Scrappy shadowed her footsteps.

  ***

  Meg pounded on the back door early Saturday. “I didn’t want to wake Denise up, so I snuck out without coffee.”

  “Won’t she be pissed?” Nicky asked. She filled Meg’s coffee cup and her own, spooning sugar and pouring milk into hers. She ran fingers through her unkempt hair. Meg had gotten her out of bed, and she had thrown on a thin t-shirt and shorts stacked on top of a pile of clean clothes. She knew her nipples showed through the shirt.

  “Oh, she’ll be mad, but she’d be mad if I went off without her anyway. So I just left a note. It’s easier that way.” Meg stared at Nicky’s breasts. “I see you took the dog in.”

  Flustered, Nicky sat down and covered her chest with crossed arms. She nodded. “Now that I did somebody will probably claim him.”

  “You mean now that you want him.” Meg sipped her coffee. “I tell you it’s the pits to lie. The thing is you have to remember everything you say or you get caught.”

  “I suppose. So tell her the truth.”