"Well, she doesn’t want you. She doesn’t love you."

Ginny laughed bitterly. And what could she possibly offer Kara anyway? Friendship? Yes, they were friends. But she was sure Kara found her lacking in bed. Ginny didn’t have experience. She didn’t know how to love a woman. Kara had probably been with many women, all of whom were vastly superior to Ginny when it came to making love.

Ginny was jealous again. Jealous of those women who had touched Kara, had made love to her. Was there someone now? Had she called up an old friend? Was there someone staying with her at her cottage?

Ginny slammed her fist on the table, cursing herself for the tears that ran down her cheeks; cursing herself for being weak.

She should just go back, she thought. Go back to Nana and her lonely life. She would forget about Kara. Eventually. Maybe even look back on this with fondness someday. Kara had, after all, shown her that there was a whole new life for her, just waiting to be explored.

But instead of leaving, she took a bus downtown and walked the familiar streets, window-shopping and people watching. She paused at the high-rise where Phil worked. Where she had once worked, too. She should go up. At least say hello. At least so that she could tell Nana she had seen him.

But she didn’t. He would want to talk. It would just start all over again and it was better this way. She didn’t want to see him, anyway. He meant nothing to her anymore. He was just a distant memory of another life.

She walked down to the waterfront and had lunch, taking her seafood platter out to the patio overlooking Puget Sound. She had to fight the gulls for her last shrimp, but it was relaxing to be out here again. The familiar smell, the familiar sounds. She hadn’t realized she had missed Seattle. She had stayed away because of Phil. But Chiwaukum was only a couple of hours through the mountains. She could come back now, if she wanted. She no longer felt the need to avoid Phil. That was over.

She wondered through Pike Place Market, watching as the vendors displayed their goods, shoving through the crowds. Back on the street, she walked again through downtown, pausing to watch the horse-drawn carriages carry tourists along to the waterfront. She walked on, passing shops and people, her mind blank and empty for once.

She passed an art gallery, one that she had walked past a hundred times before and her breath caught in her throat. She reached out to touch the glass, her eyes wide. It couldn’t be. She brought her hand to her chest, trying to chase the pain away. The Big Tree. By Kara Morgan. She looked at the card again, but it was there.

Her eyes blinked quickly, trying to hide the tears that had formed. She stared, dumbfounded. The forest was ablaze in white light, the moon seeming to chase the sun from the sky. Her eyes followed the giant tree into the dark forest, down its rough bark, bark that she could still feel pressing against her skin. The path to the tree seemed to glow and she followed it now, as her feet had followed it all those weeks ago. And there, at its base, stood the shadows of two lovers, beneath the summer moon, heads drawn together, embracing. Hands touching, loving.

She shuddered and her breath left her in a silent gasp. Is that how they had been? Wrapped so closely together that even the barest of light could not penetrate? She watched, and remembered.

"Did you want him the way you wanted me? Did you beg him to put his mouth on you?"

Ginny swallowed hard, her eyes unseeing as she stared at the painting.

"Did he make you feel the way that I did? Were your breasts ready for his touch, like they are mine?"

Ginny shook her head. "Never," she whispered. She closed her eyes and saw them, her hand placing Kara’s between her legs. "Touch me."

"Ginny, Phil is coming."

"I don’t care. I need you. Don’t stop."

She groaned, remembering. "I’m so sorry."

"You don’t ever have to be sorry for wanting me that way."

And then, "Ginny, honey, come on."

And Ginny knew. Kara loved her. It was all there, right in front of her. Kara loved her.

She pushed through the door, going immediately to the painting.

"May I help you?"

Ginny looked up, stunned. "I… I want to buy this one," she stammered.

The woman smiled. "Ah, are you familiar with her work?"

"Yes."

"Well, we have some others of hers. I’m afraid this one is not for sale."

Ginny swallowed. "What do you mean?"

The woman smiled again. "The owner has decided to keep it and display it for awhile. Perhaps in a few months…" She walked away, beckoning Ginny to follow. "Come, we have some others by Kara Morgan."

Ginny followed, her eyes wide as she saw familiar scenes appear before her. The waterfalls, at sunrise. Nana’s favorite lake, also at sunrise. She looked closer, seeing two deer faintly in the mist. She moved on and her eyes teared again. Their lake. Their sunset. She reached out. She had sat right there, beside Kara and watched as the colors changed, as the lake turned from blue to orange before her eyes. She glanced at the card. Ginny’s Lake. She raised her eyes to the woman.

"Yes, this one is beautiful," the woman said. "But, its been sold."

Ginny’s heart sank. Sold? That was her lake. That was her sunset. She took a deep breath and turned to the woman. "I want the one in the window," she said evenly.

"I’m sorry."

"Please, I have to have it. Ask the owner," Ginny pleaded.

"Very well. I’ll be right back."

Ginny watched her go, then turned again to Kara’s paintings. They were beautiful. All of them. She could picture Kara standing over them, her fingers holding the brush gently, lovingly stroking the canvas, bringing the scenes to life.

"Ma’am?"

Ginny turned. "Yes?"

"She’ll part with it for three thousand," the woman said.

Ginny nodded. "Okay." She didn’t care about the price. She would have drained her entire savings to have it.

The woman smiled. "She would like to display it for awhile. Could some arrangement be made?"

"No. I’m not from Seattle."

"Perhaps we could ship it to you then?"

"No." Ginny forced a smile. "I’m sorry. But I must have it now."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KARA STOOD LOOKING out over Puget Sound, unseeing, as the ferry took her to Seattle. A party. She didn’t feel like a party. She didn’t feel much like anything, but Marsha had talked her into it. A bunch of their old friends would be there, she had said.

"Big deal," Kara muttered. She glanced to the west, the sun still hanging on, dipping into the sea as it fought with the clouds that brought a slow drizzle. And the colors were magnificent. But she could find little joy in them this evening. She turned her face away and cupped her hands, flicking a flame to her cigarette.

She drove through the wet streets, thoughts of Ginny crowding her mind and she pushed them all away.

"Jesus, look at you," Marsha said, drawing Kara inside. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?"

Kara shrugged, slipping another cigarette between her lips. Marsha watched her, concern showing on her face. "I’ve never seen you this way, Kara. I’m worried about you."

"Please," Kara said and rolled her eyes. "I’m fine."

"Why don’t you call her?" Marsha asked gently.

Kara shook her head. "No." She took a deep drag off her cigarette. "I’m extremely happy being miserable."

CHAPTER THIRTY

"IT’S THE BIG TREE," Nana said excitedly.

"Yes."

"It’s… beautiful," she said, looking closer. "Look, there are people…"

"Yes," Ginny said sharply.

Nana looked up. "Should we hang it above the sofa?"

"No. I want to put it in my room," she said.

"In your room? Why, it would look wonderful out here," Nana said.

Ginny stared at her. "I would rather hang it in my room."

"Well, okay. It is your painting," Nana said defensively. "Did you see her?"

"No. I bought it at a gallery, downtown," she said.

"What did you pay?"

"It doesn’t matter," Ginny said quietly.

"Too much, no doubt. You should have just asked her for one. She said she sometimes gave them as gifts," Nana said.

"Like I said, I didn’t see her," Ginny said. She left, taking the painting with her. She propped it against the bed and stared at it, again. It was all there. Everything she felt, it was there. Kara had captured it exactly. Their love.

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to ward off the tears that she knew would come. She had been unable to stop them last night and today. She had cried. She had cried for herself. She cried for Kara. She cried because the pain in her heart was nearly too much for her to bear.

Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the painting. It was too painful to look at, really. Maybe she should just put it away for awhile. Maybe later, years from now, she could look at it and not remember.

"Where are you?" she whispered. "Why won’t you come back to me? I know you love me." She tucked her face into her hands and cried, deep sobs that came from her heart.

She cried when the espresso machine gave her mocha instead of a latte. She pounded the side, tears streaming down her face.

"Ginny?"

"Damn thing," she muttered. She sipped the mocha and it burned her mouth.

She cried when she restocked the shelf with cereal, knocking several boxes to the floor. She picked them up, wiping at her tears.

"Ginny? What’s wrong?" Nana asked.

"Nothing."

She cried when she burned the garlic bread they were having for dinner. "Goddamn it!" she yelled, jerking the bread from the oven.

"Ginny?"

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

Nana stared at her, not knowing what to say.

And she cried in bed, the light still on, her eyes staring at Kara’s painting for hours on end.

Nana suffered through her bouts of tears in silence. Ginny could not tell her what was wrong. Nana had quit asking. She walked around her gently, trying not to upset her.

One night, weeks later, as Ginny lay in bed, tears running down her cheeks, Nana came to her.

"Ginny, what’s wrong, child?" she asked gently. "I want to help."

Ginny turned bruised eyes to Nana. "I’m… I’m so lonely," she whispered.

Nana sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair, as if soothing a child.

"Why don’t you just call?" she asked.

"Call?"

"Phil," Nana said gently.

Ginny cried harder, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, Nana. It’s not… not Phil," she said.

Nana looked at her, puzzled.

Ginny couldn’t keep it inside any longer. She no longer cared if Nana hated her.

"I miss… Kara," she cried.

"Kara?"

Ginny nodded, covering her face with her hands.

"I don’t understand," Nana whispered.

"Kara left… because of me," she said.

"You’re not making sense," Nana said. "Why would she leave because of you?"

Ginny took Nana’s hand. "Kara and I… we…" But she couldn’t say the words. Not to Nana.

"Ginny? What? What’s wrong?"

"I love her," Ginny whispered.

Nana frowned. "You’re good friends."

Ginny shook her head. "More than friends, Nana."

Nana frowned again, her eyes searching Ginny’s. "What are you saying, child?"

"We…" Ginny closed her eyes. "We were lovers," she whispered softly. "I’m in love with her."

"Ginny?" Nana gasped. "You’re not saying… that you and Kara?"

"I’m sorry, Nana. I know you don’t understand." She opened her eyes, but Nana couldn’t meet hers. "I didn’t know how to tell you."

"But… Phil. You’re not… like that. Kara’s not…" But Nana stopped. "Is she?"

"Yes."

"My God. What did she do to you?" Nana hissed.

"No. It wasn’t her. It was me, Nana." She took Nana’s hand, trying to make her understand. "Why do you think I ran from Phil? It just wasn’t right with him. There was no magic. I was looking for that magic that you had with Grandpa," she said. "And then I met Kara. And I finally found what I had been looking for. She made me feel everything that I’d been missing."

Nana shook her head. "I don’t understand," she said softly. "I just don’t understand."