At first I was worried, when I heard the turmoil from Freya this afternoon, that something had happened to her. I went to her right away, and it was a relief to find her safe and sound at home—and then I saw what she had seen: Kara sitting on Freya’s front steps with a scowl like a thundercloud.
“Hey,” Freya said, closing her car door.
“Hey,” Kara answered. Somehow she made it sound like a challenge.
Freya went up the steps and edged around Kara to get to her door. She waited until it was open and she had an escape to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Kara got to her feet. “The hell’d you have to introduce me to that asshat anyway?” she grumbled and strode into the house.
This made little sense to me, but Freya nodded with understanding. “What did George do?”
Kara was already in the kitchen, helping herself to a beer. “He just a damn idiot. I don’t want to talk about him.”
That was a lie, which Freya knew as well as I did. Still, she respected it. She invited Kara to stay for dinner and told her about her day. Kara caught one of the cats and she and Freya paid attention to her as she seemed to believe was right and just. Then they talked business for a while, discussing the editorial process going on with Kara’s book.
Through all this, I was trying to read Kara. Anger was the primary color in her aura, but it was gathered in a tight layer close to the surface, like a shield. Though I could not see it clearly, I guessed that Kara had been hurt by something that George had done, and that hurt made her feel vulnerable. For a woman like Kara, whose confidence and contentment depends on her own strength, that in and of itself was offensive.
Both Freya and I wanted to get to the bottom of the difficulty, but before Freya felt enough time had passed to ask, Kara asked something that derailed both of our thoughts—“Has Henry called yet?”
Freya scowled into her pan of stir-fry. Then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she doesn’t care. “No,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Of course, even without being able to see Freya’s face, Kara saw through this. “All men are idiots,” she muttered.
Freya saw her opportunity and turned around. “So what exactly did he do?”
Before Kara could answer, there was a knock on the door. Kara groaned and put her head on her arms. “If it’s him, I’m going out the window,” she said.
Freya dragged her up to her feet and put a wooden spoon in her hand. “If you’re gonna eat, you have to make sure it doesn’t burn. I’ll be right back—and if it’s him, I won’t let him into the kitchen.”
It was George at the door. He glanced past Freya and smiled. “How mad is she?”
“Mad enough that you probably shouldn’t be smiling.”
George lost the smile. “Okay, but can I come in and talk to her? Just for a little while, and then we’ll get out of your way.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
George looked so dejected, and Freya struggled with her sisterly loyalty. She loves these two together, and she wanted to help.
I’m sure you can guess, my readers, what my opinion was.
“But I only told her you weren’t allowed in the kitchen,” Freya said. “So I guess if you came and had a seat in the living room, that wouldn’t be against the rules.”
George stepped into the house with alacrity, as if afraid that Freya would change her mind.
The moment Kara saw him, she came stalking to the kitchen door, wooden spoon upraised. “You fucking traitor,” she said to Freya.
“You get back in there and don’t burn my stir fry,” Freya said, pointing back into the kitchen. “I told you he couldn’t come into the kitchen and he won’t, and he’s not staying for dinner. But he’s my friend too, so stop being a bitch.”
Kara nearly left the house then and there, but I went quickly to her side to soothe her as much as I could. In the end she returned to the stove, muttering to herself.
“So,” Freya said, turning to George. “How was your day?”
He sighed. “Well, as you probably guessed, we had a big fight yesterday. We were supposed to have a date this weekend, but I cancelled pretty much last minute because I was worn out.” A hint of challenge came into his voice. “And I asked if that was okay, and she said it was fine, but apparently it wasn’t—”
“Don’t you go turning it on me again,” Kara shouted.
“Well if you don’t tell me these things, how am I—”
I nudged Freya between them, to cut them off before they got too emotional. “Don’t talk to her,” she told George. “You’re talking to me right now. So what happened yesterday?”
He shook his head. “I was late getting home from work, by like ten minutes, and she blew up at me. Said how I’m not dependable and I’m never where she expects me to be—I was completely blindsided.”
“You were blindsided?” Kara demanded, coming back to the door. “We were planning that date for a week, and then ten minutes before you just up and decide you didn’t want to spend the evening with me—”
“I told you that wasn’t the reason,” George said coldly.
“And I’m just supposed to believe you when you won’t tell me the reason?”
“Yeah, actually. It’s called trust, ever heard of it?”
“No, in fact, I haven’t, not in this relationship—”
“Both of you stop it right now!” Freya shouted. She went up to Kara, snatched the spoon from her hand, and pushed past her to take the pan with the unfortunate stir fry off the heat. Then she chivvied Kara into the living room and sat her down across from George. There the two of them sat, not looking at one another.
“Look at you,” Freya scolded, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re fucking adults. Talk to each other.”
Nothing but silence—Kara even folded her arms across her chest.
Freya took a breath. “Okay, disclaimer,” she said. “Normally I would not stick my nose into your relationship where it doesn’t belong. But you’re both here in my house, which I think gives me a little bit of leeway. So I’m going to try and fix this. Anybody has a problem with that, they can leave.”
Neither one of them budged. Freya looked at them, both very dear to her in a short time, and her heart wrenched. She wanted to help so much, but she wasn’t certain how.
I looked at them, too, and I saw a bit more than she did. “Neither one of them is telling the whole story,” I whispered to Freya. “Their anger comes from pain that they are not willing to share.”
Freya looked at George. “So why did you cancel on her?”
His first reaction was to resent the intrusion, but I covered him with my wing, urging him to be honest. So he sighed and rubbed his face. “Friend of mine called me that morning,” he said, sounding very tired. “He needed a ride home from the hospital, and some company. He just learned that his cancer’s back, and it’s not going away this time.”
That terrible word chased all of the anger out of the room. Kara stared at George, and Freya sat down on the coffee table and put her hand over his. “God,” was all she said.
He nodded. Now he looked at Kara. “I spent the day with him, because he didn’t want to be alone while he gave everyone the bad news. And I knew it meant a lot to him and I was glad to be there for him…but it was exhausting, and I wasn’t up to anything afterward.”
Now guilt was cutting deep into Kara’s aura. Cursing under her breath, she got up and came to sit beside him on the sofa. “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?” she asked.
He managed a smile for her. “I should’ve. But it was nice to be with you because you didn’t know about it, and that let me pretend I didn’t know about it either.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Even when you were mad at me, it was better.”
She shook her head and thumped it against his shoulder. “You still should’ve told me,” she said. “Now I’m the bitch.”
“Nah,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Freya was satisfied, but I saw that there was more to the story. I turned her attention to Kara. “It’s important that all the truth be known now,” I said to her.
“Okay, Kara, your turn,” Freya said. “Why were you so mad that he canceled on you?”
Kara shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” Freya said.
Now Kara was glaring at Freya. “George was taking care of his dying friend. My butthurt doesn’t matter.”
George turned to her. “Yes, it does. Everything you’re thinking and feeling matters to me. Especially if I’m the cause of it.”
She looked at him, and for a moment I saw a flash of true, deep emotion in her, a gratitude and affection that made it clear to me how much this man means to her.
“Please?” he asked.
She sighed and lowered her gaze, feeling ashamed. “So I know we were just supposed to order take-in…but I didn’t. I fixed us dinner, and…and I borrowed my mama’s good table settings. There were candles…” She shook her head.
George stared at her. “You don’t cook.”
Kara tossed her head. “Don’t mean I can’t.” She looked away. “I shouldn’t have been that mad—surprise didn’t go the way I wanted it to, well, I should’ve said something. No big deal.”
But I saw in her memory how she’d had to give away the roast beef and vegetables she’d worked so hard on, how she’d poured the wine down the sink and ironed wax out of the nice tablecloth. It had been a very big deal for her.
George took her face in his hands and made her look at him. His heart was melting in his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he said, and he kissed her gently.
Freya got up then and went back into the kitchen to salvage what she could of her own dinner. I went with her. “They will be all right now,” I assured her. “The truth is out, and now they are both willing to talk to one another. The connection they have is strong, and you should be proud that you helped to bring them together.”
Freya left off picking burnt bits of rice out of her pan and stared at the wall. She was happy for her friends, but in her heart she felt more like Kara, cleaning up the remnants of a meal meant to be shared between two.
I wrapped her tightly in my wings. “I will find you someone who shares just such a connection with you,” I promised her. “I will not rest until you have that someone, and when you fight with him, I will repair the damage just as you have. I will not let you be alone. I promise.”