Triple Exposure Read online

  Meg looked horrified. “She’d kill me.” A grin stole across her face. “She thinks there’s somebody else in my life.”

  “Then she’ll be relieved to find out that ‘somebody’ is only Brittle.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “Well, you know her better than I do,” Nicky said. She was almost glad she wasn’t involved in a live-in relationship. “Beth can’t make it today, so Matt won’t be here either.”

  “Damn,” Meg said quietly. “I didn’t need to sneak out this morning.”

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Can I use your phone? I’ll just give Denise a call.”

  Nicky, listening discreetly, cleaned up the dishes while Meg talked.

  “I’ll be home this afternoon. I thought I had to work. I got my messages confused, I guess.” Meg looked tense. “I don’t know why they told you that. I was there briefly. Now I’ve got some errands to run. You want anything at the store?” She breathed a relieved sigh when she hung up the phone. “She’s madder than hell. She called work and I wasn’t there, of course.”

  “Do you have to tell her wherever you go?” Nicky asked, wiping the counter with a dishcloth.

  “On weekends it’s hard to get away alone. She thinks we should be together.” Meg slumped in a chair.

  “Well, that’s sort of the idea of a relationship,” Nicky said. “Are you sure you should be in one?”

  Stretching her long legs in front of her, Meg shrugged her shoulders. “Getting out isn’t so easy. It’s easier not to get involved. Besides, I love her.” She pulled herself together and placed her hands palms down on the maple surface. “It’s a nice day. I’ll give you a lesson if you like.”

  Nicky laughed. “No thanks.”

  ***

  The outdoors had been washed clean. Leaves and grass and weeds no longer looked dusty and drooping, but instead were colored bright green. Nicky knew she would have to mow again this weekend, even though she had cut the lawn less than a week ago. Weeds proliferated in the garden, hiding the vegetables planted beneath them.

  “I’d like to show Brittle,” Meg said as they walked toward the barn.

  “Show him where?”

  “At open horse shows, or even Quarter Horse shows.” Meg added, “He has hundreds of Quarter Horse points. He may not look like it, covered with mud and out of shape, but he’s a show horse.”

  Nicky eyed Brittle with renewed interest as Meg tied him to the post and started currying the mud off him. “How would you do that? Wouldn’t you have to tell Denise?”

  Snorting, Meg said, “I suggested this to Denise once before. We had the biggest battle of our lives.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you can do it without telling her. When are these shows?”

  “On the weekends, and I don’t own a truck or trailer.” Meg looked dejected. “Here’s the chance of a lifetime and I can’t take advantage of it.”

  Nicky wasn’t stupid. She knew Meg was asking her to help with this scheme. And she realized with surprise that she might want to be part of it. Western art, horse art, sold. She could do a horse show series. But she only said, “You’ll have to tell her.”

  Meg sounded panicked. “I’m a coward.” With the curry comb she pulverized the clods of dried mud hanging on the horse’s coat until she and Brittle were enveloped in a cloud of dust. The horse hung his head as if he enjoyed the grooming. After a while, Meg said in measured tones, “What I think I’ll do is tell her I’m going home a few weekends. She won’t call my folks. They don’t get along. Then, if we have some success, I’ll talk to her.”

  “It’s a mistake,” Nicky warned, curious to meet this woman who intimidated Meg so.

  “Is Beth coming out tomorrow?” Meg asked.

  Meg was cleaning Brittle’s feet, which Nicky equated to picking someone else’s toes. She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, but she won’t bring Matt with her.”

  Meg set the hoof down and moved to another one. “Why is that?”

  “Because she won’t.” She better not, Nicky thought. By Sunday Nicky would need some serious loving.

  ***

  The next day, as they walked through the pasture, Nicky told Beth about Meg’s plans. Meg rode Brittle at the far end of the fenced-in acreage. Nicky felt she had lost the field to Brittle. She was afraid to even walk to the stream unless Meg had the horse in hand. Meg had started Brittle’s conditioning the day before. There was an open show next Saturday and Meg wanted to go. Nicky had offered herself and her truck. Meg just had to rent a horse trailer.

  “Sure you want to do that? This Denise could make trouble,” Beth said.

  Even though she’d thought that herself, Nicky became defensive. “It’ll be something to do on Saturday anyway.”

  Beth changed tack. “I hung your prints in the living room. What a lovely gift. It’s like having you in the house.”

  “The next best thing to being there,” Nicky said nastily, recalling the niceness of Mark and feeling like a shit all over again. She glanced at Beth, who stood next to her staring into the tumbling water, holding herself tightly with crossed arms. She touched her. “Beth.” Seeing tears in Beth’s eyes, Nicky’s anger melted. “Don’t, Beth.”

  Sniffing and wiping her wet face with the heel of her hand, Beth laughed shakily. “Sorry. I understand your anger. I just don’t know how to change things.”

  “Come on.” Nicky tugged at Beth’s hand, pulled her down into the tall grass next to the creek. She pushed Scrappy out of the way and stretched out beside her. “It seems like I’m forgetting how to enjoy you when you’re here.” She kissed the corner of Beth’s trembling mouth. “Want to do it?”

  “Here? Now?” She rolled on her side and wrapped Nicky in her arms. “Yes.”

  They reached inside each other’s shorts and gently caressed the sensitive folds of flesh, eliciting so much pleasure that Nicky was only vaguely aware of the whining dog and the buzzing insects. She rode Beth’s touch on a mounting wave of excitement, unable to curb for long the passion surging through her.

  “That’s what you call a quickie,” Nicky murmured, as they pulled their clothes into a semblance of order and smiled somewhat sheepishly at each other.

  Beth lay with her arms under her head. She turned her face toward Nicky and said almost shyly, “I forget the slime I was so eager to represent when I’m with you. I wish I could come home to you, Nicky.”

  Nicky plucked a stem of grass and chewed on it. She sat cross-legged next to her. “It’s okay, Beth.” But she knew that what made it okay right now had been the sex and the tears. “Besides, you take your work home with Mark. Too bad he’s such a nice guy.”

  Putting a blade of grass between her teeth, Beth frowned. “I got the feeling I was being followed when I came out today.”

  “One of the slime?” Nicky asked, her voice rising in alarm and her scalp crawling.

  “It was probably just my imagination.” She smiled reassuringly. “Why would any of my clients follow me? I’m supposedly helping them, although I’d like some put away for good. Maybe I should run for prosecutor.” She grinned, showing beautiful white teeth.

  “I’d vote for that smile, and then I’d fuck you senseless.”

  Beth laughed. “I’ll have to smile more often.”

  ***

  When Beth left late that night, Nicky saw headlights turn on further down the road, as if a car had been parked there. She watched the lights approach her driveway then pass it, taking the direction the Probe had taken. Starting her truck, she backed around and sped after Beth, catching up with her as she turned onto Highway 41. There was no one tailing her. Still, she followed her to a Super America and pulled in behind her.

  “I thought that was you,” Beth said, opening her gas tank. “Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow to fill up, or did you just miss me?” Wisps of hair blew around her face, catching in the corners of her mouth and eyes.

  “I thought you were being tailed,” Nicky said, feeling foo
lish. “Did you see a car turn on its lights and follow you when you left my driveway?”

  “I did see a car behind me, but it turned off a block or so before forty-one.” She brushed the loose hair away from her face.

  Not totally convinced, Nicky asked, “Want me to follow you home?” She shut off the gas pump and screwed the cap on.

  “Thanks, sweetie, but I’ll be fine.”

  Nicky watched Beth drive away from the gas station. When she saw no car in pursuit, she drove slowly home with the windows open, enjoying the soft breeze on her face, the sky full of stars, the growing concert of insects.

  Chapter Four

  “Why doesn’t Denise get along with your folks?” Nicky asked.

  “She told them we were lovers when she went home with me.” Meg studied the map on her lap. “And they told her we weren’t.”

  “You’re kidding,” Nicky said in hushed tones, horrified and amused and almost disbelieving.

  Meg laughed humorlessly. “They said they wanted to hear it from me. I tried to be honest. I just couldn’t. They ordered Denise out of the house.”

  “Did you go with her?”

  Meg nodded. “She was furious with me. I didn’t see my parents for a year, and then I visited them without Denise. It’s better that way.” She looked at Nicky. “They aren’t going to live forever.”

  “Why did she tell them?” Nicky asked, trying to imagine such a scene.

  “You gotta know my parents and Denise. They’re a couple of bigots and she’s righteous, which is almost as bad.” Meg pointed to the right. “Turn there. That’s the fairgrounds.”

  They parked under a tree at the edge of the gravel parking lot, and Meg unloaded Brittle and tied him to the trailer.

  “You ever done this before?” Nicky asked, looking at the horses in the arena. They were lined up in a long row with their handlers next to them. A man in a Western-type suit and cowboy hat walked around the animals.

  “I’ve shown Brittle a few times.” Meg gave the horse a cursory brushing. She had already spent hours getting him ready.

  Nicky had been surprised by the time-consuming preparations. She had seen Meg clip the horse, wash him, clean her tack. Now she stood by while Meg readied him to ride and took him to where others were working their horses. With her camera she wandered the fairgrounds, absorbing the show in progress and those getting ready to show. She sat in the bleachers during the noon break while everyone rode in the arena. Afterwards, she watched the riding classes.

  When Meg’s class entered the ring for Senior Western Pleasure, Nicky went to the fence and snapped frames of her as she rode past. At first she hardly recognized her, dressed in Western hat and chaps and boots, her long sleeves rolled down and buttoned, a scarf pinned at her neck. Meg made a face at her during the first pass, said something Nicky missed during the second. Nicky paid so much attention to Meg that she forgot to watch Brittle.

  On the way home Nicky silently added up the day’s expenses. The charge at the gate, for entrance to the show grounds, had been two dollars each. The classes had cost Meg seven dollars apiece to enter. She had paid for trailer rental and gas. Nicky thought it had been an expensive day for Meg to be so pleased over Brittle’s fourth-place winning.

  Already Meg was talking about going to another show next Saturday. Nicky wasn’t sure she wanted to do this every weekend and started to say so, but Meg spoke first. “I forgot to ask. Can I spend the night at your place? Denise doesn’t expect me home until tomorrow.”

  “Won’t she be glad to have you home?”

  “Yeah, but she’ll make me go to a chamber music concert with her at Lawrence tomorrow.”

  “What if she finds out you stayed with me?” Nicky asked, realizing she might be more afraid of Denise than the slime Beth represented.

  ***

  Dreaming that Beth was climbing into bed with her, Nicky murmured and obligingly moved over. She snuggled against her. It had been so long since she and Beth had slept together that she had forgotten how comforting it felt.

  She woke to a lonely bed, so certain she had not spent the night alone that she touched the other side. “Beth, you out there?” she called. Not even the dog came running. He’d started the night beside the bed. The clock read eight thirty-five. Stripes of sunlight fell across the rumpled sheets. She threw off the tangled top sheet, pulled on a shirt and shorts and padded toward the kitchen.

  Through the window she could see the dog sitting by the back door and Meg out in the horse lot pitching manure into a wheelbarrow. Meg had supposedly slept on the couch. Looking at the sheets and blanket neatly folded where she had placed them for Meg’s use last night, Nicky felt hot liquid flowing through her veins.

  Scrappy jumped all over her when she went outside, his toenails scratching her bare legs. Impatiently pushing him down with her knee, she stretched in the already hot sunlight. Uncertain of what to do next, she sat on the stoop and patted the dog. Meg looked different to her. Disturbingly sexual images came to mind—Meg’s breasts bouncing against her cotton t-shirt, the damp spots under and between them, the long tightly muscled legs.

  Grabbing her camera, Nicky started blindly down the road. Surprised, she realized that she had reached the next farm. Dan was cutting alfalfa in the field next to the driveway. Swallows, iridescent and graceful, soared and dove for the insects stirred up by the tractor and mower. She raised her camera and caught the farmer on film, the tractor at work, the birds accompanying them. At the far end of the field Dan lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

  Even before she started reluctantly toward home, Scrappy urged her in that direction with his nose against her leg. Half hoping that Meg would be gone or at least riding, she walked slowly through the hazy, hot, late morning. The sun beat down with an intensity that sapped energy from plants and animals. She photographed Scrappy standing in a ditch full of purple vetch, then snapped fields of hawkweed, bright orange in the sunny day, with blue spiderwort growing amidst its profusion.

  The Rabbit was gone from the driveway. Parked in its place were Beth’s Probe, Nicky’s father’s Jeep Grand Wagoneer, and her sister Natalie’s old beat-up Plymouth Horizon. Her heart jumped and then fell. As usual, her parents had not informed her of their intent to visit. She sometimes thought they got into their car on Sundays never knowing where they would end up.

  They were sitting in lawn chairs under the sugar maple near the back door. Nicky became aware of her old shorts and shirt, her beat up tennis shoes. She ran fingers through the hair she had washed but hadn’t combed that morning. Unprotected by makeup or suntan lotion, her face felt burned. She had always longed to carry herself as her mother did, with unconscious grace.

  “Five for dinner?” she asked with a slight smile, worried that her family would leave too late to allow her time alone with Beth.

  Her father wrapped her in a bear hug and she sniffed his familiar smell. “You’re bony, Nick.” He was tall and hardy, casually attired in expensive clothes, with thick graying dark hair and a ready smile.

  “I’m fine, Dad. I eat like a horse. Which reminds me, did you see the horse?”

  “Yes, dear.” Her mother looked chic, as always. A slender woman with prematurely white hair cut short to emphasize high cheekbones and dark blue eyes like her own, she rose from her chair to give Nicky a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze.

  Nicky briefly studied her twenty-year-old sister, who was a sullen, heavier version of herself. “Haven’t seen you for a while, little sister. What’ve you been up to?”

  “No good,” Natalie said without a change of expression.

  Nicky laughed. “You’ll have to tell me about it.”

  She turned to Beth, elegant in hair and clothing, slim and lovely, and thought that she should be her mother’s daughter, not herself or her sister. She gave her a radiant smile. “Hello, and what did you bring?” Beth had promised to grocery shop.

  “Makings for cashew chicken.” Beth smiled hesitantly, and Nicky knew that she was thin
king of leaving.

  “You’ll have to fix it,” Nicky said flatly, allowing her no polite way out.

  “If you insist,” Beth replied.

  “I’m sure we could manage, dear,” Nicky’s mother began.

  “No, we couldn’t, Mom,” Nicky assured her, “but it sure is good to see you.” She put an arm around her mother’s waist and walked with her toward the door. Scrappy followed them into the house.

  “Got yourself another dog?” her dad asked, bending nearly double to scratch behind the drooping ears.

  “Scrappy found me,” Nicky said.

  “Ward, I left my purse in the car. Would you get it for me?” her mother asked, as they milled around the kitchen.

  He boomed, “Sure, honey. I want to take a look at that horse anyway. Why don’t you come with me, Nattie?”

  Sensing a setup, she asked, “Something going on, Mom?”

  Her mother sat at the table and fanned herself with a paper plate. “How do you stand this heat, Nicole? We could help you with the cost of air conditioning. Just a window unit would make a difference.”

  “That’s very generous, Mom,” Nicky said automatically. Her parents were always offering her financial assistance. When desperate, she had been forced to accept it. “I like open windows.” She turned to help Beth, who was cutting chicken breasts into strips.

  “That’s okay,” Beth said, giving her a heart-stopping smile. “Talk to your mother. You don’t see her that often.”

  Nicky remarked, “Nice to see Natalie. She doesn’t usually come with you.”

  “Well, it’s not her choice to be here today. Your father and I wanted to ask you if your sister could stay with you this summer. She’s got a lot of reading to do, a lot of catching up, in order to pass some tests in the fall. Otherwise, she’ll have to leave the university.”

  Nicky stared at her mother, remembering her own leave-taking from the university. Continuing had seemed pointless after Beth had married. The only enduring interest she had at the time was photography.