Mirror, Mirror (Otalia, 6b/8)
Title: Mirror, Mirror
Pairing: Otalia
Word Count: 59,995 (complete)
Rating: R
Summary: forgiveness is a tricky thing.
Yellow
“We might have to give up some things if we’re gonna be together.”
“I don’t want to give up anything. I don’t...I want...I want all of it. I want all of the things that people in love share.”
“Cause you want the grand gesture. And I...I dunno. Should I get up and do my ‘I love Olivia’ dance? Would that make you happy?”
“Yeah, I’d like to see that, actually.”
Side 2
Olivia walked into her office and shut the door. For a second she stood there and studied it, fighting the urge to turn the lock as well. She already regretted her choice as she decided against it, well-aware as she moved towards her desk that she had just accepted further interruptions to her day.
She didn’t remember the last time the Beacon had been this hectic. It was good that business was picking up again, but between dealing with the needs of a sudden influx of guests, the frequent calls from her business contacts in the midwest, and the complications in her personal life, Olivia had been feeling close to overwhelmed. She needed an afternoon here - in her office, by herself - to re-organize her priorities and re-think her long-term strategy--but she thought it unlikely that she would actually get it.
This despite the fact that not five minutes ago, she had told her new assistant that she was not to be disturbed until she indicated otherwise. She had told him--but she did not trust him to make it happen. He cared too much about offending others; it frequently made him useless.
She supposed he was in good company. Considering the volume at which she had given him the order, everyone who worked near her office had to be aware of her desire to remain at her desk, uninterrupted, for the next few hours. However, she didn’t have any more faith in them than in her assistant to prove their usefulness if a reason arose to put her order to the test.
It was all Greg’s fault, really. He had taken personal time today to prepare for his upcoming departure - time which Olivia herself had approved - but it had all been scheduled before the Beacon ballroom had been booked for an event this weekend.
The event in question involved several hundred people and any number of last-minute arrangements. Due to the lack of notice, Olivia had been able to charge a fortune without encountering a murmur of protest, but the monetary profits had come with a foreseeable cost--
Stress. Mostly in other people, but she had caught part of it. And it was something she really didn’t need in her life right now.
The only benefit of the situation was that she had a ready excuse for missing the Spaulding get-together this weekend. Phillip had called earlier this week to tell her about it, asking if she and Emma would be able to attend. He had even invited both of them to stay at the mansion, if Olivia liked the idea. A number of out-of-town Spauldings were making an appearance, which meant there would be endless hours of dining and socialization.
Olivia might have agreed to go for part of it, but the main reason for the impromptu reunion was a party Phillip and Beth had planned for Saturday--a party being held for Lizzie and Bill, in honor of Lizzie’s recently announced pregnancy. After she heard that, Olivia hadn’t felt the least bit sorry to have to decline the invitation for herself. She would never enjoy hearing Lizzie’s name anywhere in the vicinity of discussions regarding pregnancy. She had instantly begged off, citing business, a reason that Phillip of all people would understand.
In the interest of family relations, Olivia had agreed to let Emma attend without her. She had dropped her off at Phillip’s earlier this afternoon with the plan that she would stay at the mansion for a long weekend. Initially, Olivia hadn’t been sure about her stay there starting on a Thursday, but Phillip had assured her that he could be trusted to get their daughter to school on time the next day.
After having gotten her back from Ava so recently, Olivia still found it difficult to let her go, even for a weekend, but Emma had been excited at the prospect of a big party...and her absence granted Olivia another reprieve.
She had another Friday before she had to explain her weekly dinners to her daughter.
She would admit it--another reason she had been in no hurry to spend Friday night with the Spauldings was that, in her mind, the night already belonged to someone else...though she didn’t know their plans for this week.
They hadn’t set up their dinner yet. She was still waiting for Natalia’s call.
When Olivia had dropped Emma off at the farmhouse yesterday for her visit, the subject hadn’t come up. Olivia hadn’t wanted to discuss the topic with Emma present, and Natalia had also avoided it. She seemed to understand without being told that Olivia hadn’t figured out how to explain their dinners to her daughter.
And now she had been given another week to decide.
Once again, Olivia didn’t know what to tell Emma. The relationship between herself and Natalia was different now than it had been before Emma went away.
When Olivia had accepted Ava’s offer for Emma to visit her, she had done so with the intent of sitting Emma down and talking to her after she returned.
Although Emma had seemed so happy - so reassured - the first few weeks after Christmas, by the end of January Olivia had seen her discontent resurface. Emma hadn’t accepted the separation--she not only missed Natalia, she missed them all doing things together. It had gotten to the point that every time Olivia offered to take Emma anywhere, she asked if Natalia could go with them, too.
It hadn’t gone on for very long before Olivia couldn’t take it anymore. She had sent Emma off to Ava’s for a vacation before she told her. She thought that maybe giving her daughter some distance from the situation before she learned the reality of it would make accepting the truth easier on her.
But then, before Emma came back, the dinners had started. And, once again, Olivia was faced with the question of whether the full conversation was necessary.
If she and Natalia really could be friends in more than name only - similar to how they had been friends before - then she might not have to tell Emma much at all. It wouldn’t be everything they once had as a family, but they could do the occasional meal together or simply meet for ice-cream. That might be enough, for Emma...
And Olivia wouldn’t have to say anything else. She wouldn’t have to tell her any of the reasons they had spent so much time apart.
She wouldn’t have to hurt her, not the way-
“-the way you’ve been hurt?”
She heard Natalia’s gentle words, and the honesty of them made her feel almost ashamed. Not telling Emma might seem the easiest course of action, a way to protect both Emma and Natalia - a way to protect herself as well - but did that make it the right decision?
Did she owe her daughter the truth?
Was it fair to Emma to keep downplaying the changes in their lives? To keep trying to placate her longing for them to be a family again with the closest acceptable substitute she could manage on any given day? If she wasn’t satisfied with her own attempts, why should she assume Emma would feel any differently? She had already underestimated the depth of Emma’s feelings as compared to her own, both in the summer and in the fall. Did she really want to do it again?
And was it fair to Natalia to accept her presence in their lives, but only in a role far less meaningful than the one she still seemed to want?
There was only a single interpretation for Natalia’s actions towards her--
She wanted more. She wanted a lot more than they had right now; she wanted more than Olivia was willing to give.
Olivia knew what Natalia was doing, had known what she was doing for months, and, she admitted to herself, she had let her do it. She couldn’t find it in herself to be cold enough to stop her. She would have once been capable of it, of playing on Natalia’s insecurities, her shame. It would have taken very little effort--a few well-timed remarks, a look, then a silence. It could be over in seconds, cruel beyond measure, but quick, if not quite clean.
But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hurt her like that. Irrevocably.
She couldn’t completely let go of the woman who had shown such faith in her, even at her most undeserving.
“I trust you with my life, and I hope that you can do the same.”
Olivia hadn’t even had to think about her reply. She’d had so much faith--first in Natalia, then in them, together.
She missed it, her utter conviction in them, and she knew that Natalia missed it, too. Olivia had seen the look of recognition on Natalia’s face when she realized what her leaving had cost them. The look on her face once the words had been said, out loud, to her--“I don’t trust you.”
Olivia had thought that was it. They were done.
Except that Natalia had refused to accept the loss...and, in the last few weeks, Olivia had found herself questioning it with her.
Olivia still didn’t know how Natalia had done it. In some ways, she had been the Natalia that Olivia knew - respectful of her feelings, kind, self-sacrificing - but in her own quiet way, she had also reminded Olivia of herself.
She had been relentless in going after what she thought she wanted.
She had also been more successful than Olivia believed possible.
Olivia could still see her own hand pressed against the door as she tried to ignore Natalia’s presence behind her. She could still feel the grain of the wood against her palm as she tried to concentrate on anything other than her reaction to the intimacy of Natalia’s words--“Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
She had wanted to say yes. More than anything, she wanted to ask her inside.
She wanted to see if Natalia felt like she remembered; she wanted to rediscover her responsiveness, her warmth. She wanted to hold her and stroke her hair.
She wanted to tell her they could be happy together--that everything was alright.
But it wasn’t and she couldn’t. She wouldn’t lie to her.
“I don’t trust you.”
And yet, she wished that she could. She wanted her and she wanted them.
She wanted so many things...
“You love me, Olivia, and you know how much-”
Olivia closed her eyes as she waited for the feeling to pass.
When she could concentrate again, she opened her eyes and focused on the messages on the desk in front of her. For the rest of the afternoon she worked without a break, effectively ignoring her personal life for a few hours.
Or, at least, almost. Despite herself, she did keep glancing at the phone in between fielding business calls. No matter what they did tomorrow night, she was looking forward to spending time with her.
***
Later, in bed that night, for the first time in months Olivia allowed herself to think of Natalia while she took care of herself, the rhythm of her fingers changing almost immediately, their movements slower, deeper. She couldn't hold back a quiet sigh. She had missed this. She had missed thinking of them, like this.
She’d felt a vague sense of guilt, the first time she’d done it, not for the act itself, but for bringing Natalia into it, given the nature of the gratification. It wasn’t until they talked about sex, about how Natalia wanted it, wanted her, that Olivia had finally felt comfortable admitting the extent of her desire, of admitting her need to hold the woman she loved.
She shifted positions, her breath quickening. It was amazing how good it felt, thinking of her, thinking of them, together.
The strength of her release shook her, sudden, almost brutal, and she didn’t even attempt to stifle the name, her cry--
Natalia.
***
Olivia took the elevator down to the lobby. She used the few seconds she had alone to compose herself, to hide her disappointment.
Natalia hadn’t called.
And Olivia didn’t know why. She knew it was a mystery she could easily solve, her phone could dial as well as receive, but she found herself at a loss. She felt uncomfortable with her inability to read the situation.
She had rejected Natalia’s advances outside her hotel room--did that mean she was supposed to call? It was the type of back-and-forth, cat-and-mouse relationship dynamics that Olivia used to be so good at comprehending...and then exploiting to her own advantage. But the two of them had never played those types of games, and it left her feeling confused. Uncertain. Why wouldn’t Natalia call?
As Olivia stepped out of the elevator, she decided that she wouldn’t go after her this time. If this was what Natalia wanted-
“Ms. Spencer?”
Recognizing the voice, Olivia immediately looked in the direction of the front desk and saw David motioning towards a package sitting on the counter in front of him.
She approached him, pleased that her desk clerks had finally internalized her preferences regarding packages. She far preferred to take them to her room herself, particularly if they had been hand-delivered rather than mailed.
“This just came for you,” he said as she walked up to him. “Do you want me to hold it for you until-”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She barely looked at him as she picked up the package. It was a large, cardboard box, labeled with her name. The label was in Natalia’s handwriting, which was the norm for packages Olivia picked up from the front desk that hadn’t been sent by mail. Usually the dropped-off packages contained items for Emma - hand-sewn costumes and so forth - and Natalia always called first, so that Olivia would be expecting them.
Olivia found herself curious enough about Natalia’s departure from tradition that she decided the errands she had planned to accomplish could wait.
She headed straight back up to her suite. Once inside, she set the box on the edge of her bed and opened it. Inside she found two stacks of semi-transparent plastic containers with clear blue lids. As she pulled the containers out of the box and lined them up on the bed, she counted seven in total.
She could tell simply by glancing at them that they were filled with baked goods. It wasn’t until she looked closer, through one of the lids, that she could see that each container also held an envelope on which Natalia had handwritten a date. The earliest of the dates was the day of their dinner last week; the latest date was from yesterday.
Olivia still felt too curious to consider the wisdom of opening the containers. She picked up the one dated from last Friday and pulled off the lid.
The sudden aroma of chocolate was almost overpowering, but not in a bad way. She could see around the sides of the envelope and instantly recognized the individual cakes that filled the container. Though she couldn’t see inside the cakes themselves, she knew they contained dried fruit. She could also tell that Natalia had made a substitution--walnuts for the recommended macadamias.
Olivia knew this recipe by heart. It was one of the simpler ones in the book she had given Natalia; one she used to make for Marissa on the rare occasions she allowed herself to visit her sister and Jonathan. At the time, Olivia had preferred more elegant pastries, but her sister hadn’t, and so she had found this recipe and made the cakes for her, knowing she would enjoy them - simple and not-too-sweet.
She hadn’t made them since Marissa’s death. Although she loved Jonathan, had once risked everything important to her in order to protect him, Olivia had never forgiven Reva for everything she had lost by protecting her son. She had missed so much time with her sister before she died.
As Olivia pulled the envelope out of the container and carefully unfolded the sheets of paper inside, she wondered how much Natalia had known about Marissa, about Jonathan, when she read the note inside the cookbook.
Olivia looked down at the papers in her hand and realized that she was holding a letter. For a moment she sat, deliberating, and then she purposefully shifted herself back on the bed so that she could rest her back against the headboard as she read.
Olivia--
It's been a long time since I've written something like this.
Did I ever tell you that Nicky used to write these for me? I took them with me, when I ran away from home with Rafe. I only had a single suitcase, and I took his letters. I was young and pretty much on my own and even years after he left, I would take them out and think of him, sometimes.
I think about you all the time.
Even though we were young, Nick and I had a lot to say to each other, but not like this. Maybe you’ll see here what you won’t let me say.
I love you, Olivia. And it’s hard to write letters to the love of your life. It’s hard to know what to say. You mean so much to me.
It was your Christmas gift that helped me know what to do. It’s not a new idea. It’s something I’ve done for you and Emma many times before, but you’ve always liked it.
I decided to bake for you. I would have liked to have made these recipes with you, but maybe it’s better that I got a chance to make them for you by myself. You might have been tempted to take over or direct me. And I know my kitchen too well for that.
I know my kitchen and I know you. I know how much you love me.
I wanted to start by making your favorite dessert, but it’s not really possible to get fresh mango here this early in the spring, so I chose to make something with chocolate instead. Emma would be proud of me.
I made this recipe first because I had most of the ingredients. I used walnuts instead of macadamia nuts, and I hope that’s okay. I know I should have waited until the grocery store opened and made them the way you’re used to, but I’m so tired of waiting. I wanted to start right away. We’ll make them again sometime, the right way. I’m sure you’ll be willing to show me how it’s done.
I tasted one when I finished, and I like them. I’m only making recipes that you commented on, and I don’t know if they’re the best, or just the ones you had comments for.
I already know how much our tastes can differ. I’m getting to see what you’re used to, the caviar sandwiches, and it’s wonderful.
I love you, Olivia, and I miss you. The house seems empty without you here.
Love always,
Natalia
Olivia felt almost numb as she looked at the letter in her hand. Before she had time to dwell on what she had just read, she picked up the container that had the next envelope in the series and opened it.
The sight of the neat rows of biscotti inside made her ache, even after all this time. She had made these, for Richard.
During their engagement, he had breakfast brought to her in bed almost every day. One morning, shortly before they were due to announce their upcoming wedding, she had finally surprised him, bringing him a tray with these cookies and an espresso. She would have brought him more - she wanted to make him something that tested her skills as a chef - but Richard hated making love on a full stomach...
Olivia turned to the letter.
Olivia--
Francesca is back at home tonight, keeping me company while I bake. She’s calmer when I feed her down here. I think she likes the smell of cookies, or maybe she just likes the kitchen. You always liked my kitchen, too.
Right now, she’s sleeping. It’s easier, keeping a baby asleep, when there’s no traffic outside. When Rafe was little, I didn’t get much sleep at night. Sometimes I think he woke up every time a car passed by...
Olivia had to pause at the picture created by Natalia’s words. She could see her clearly, awake and alone in the middle of the night. Except that she wasn’t seeing a teenaged Natalia holding a crying Rafe, she was seeing her Natalia, right now, handling nighttime feedings alone, in between stints of twice-baking biscotti.
She had never experienced such a detailed picture of Natalia’s life in her absence.
...your note says you used to make these cookies for Richard. You never told me why you didn’t marry him. I guess we don't talk a lot about our pasts...
Olivia wondered that Natalia hadn’t noticed it before. She knew why she preferred not to discuss her own past in too much detail. She didn’t know Natalia’s reasons, but she had always respected her privacy--had even helped her change the subject once or twice, when she looked uncomfortable...
Needing a distraction from memories of herself, of Natalia, Olivia picked up the next container. The cookies inside this one almost made her smile. Natalia had made the butter cookie recipe. The container was completely full of them--delicate cookies sandwiched together with jam. Olivia had frequently used fig jam for the filling, but she thought that Natalia had used her favorite, blackberry.
These were the cookies that had most commonly been served during afternoon gatherings of diplomats.
Olivia had received her first marriage proposal after one such gathering. At the time, she had been free to accept. Richard had still been in mourning for Catherine; he barely noticed Olivia’s presence. Despite his inattention, she had been far too in love with him to truly consider anyone else, though her feelings hadn’t stopped her from taking other men to bed from time-to-time. This time, she’d apparently made a greater impression than she realized, and she’d found herself trying to extricate herself from something that could have turned into a small scandal, considering the proposal came from a visiting diplomat on whom Richard heavily relied.
She had managed to talk her way out of it, her refusal offending no one. However, Richard had become aware of the offer towards her--and had promptly raised her salary and kept her much closer to him. She had been thrilled. She hadn’t known then that she would never be his first choice. That he would never really love her.
Olivia shifted her attention to the letter that accompanied the cookies. She only made it through a few paragraphs before she was smiling again, past relationships momentarily forgotten.
...this isn’t the kind of cooking I’m used to. I’m not surprised to see that tuna noodle casserole isn’t in this book.
When you said you grew up poor, I imagined you eating it with you family. But now, I don't know. Did you have tuna noodle casserole on San Cristobal? If you didn’t, you’re the first person I’ve met that likes it who didn’t grow up with it. Was it the first thing you ate at Company when you came here? Why did you ever decide to try it...
Olivia rested her head back against the headboard, still smiling. She had been surprised to learn that Natalia didn’t even like the casserole. They had eaten it often at the farmhouse, and Olivia hadn’t discerned that Natalia had been doing that just for her. She knew that Natalia wouldn’t make it anymore without her there.
Olivia looked back down at the letter again, and finished it. As she put the pages back into the envelope, she realized that the first of Natalia’s letters had been the shortest by far. Each subsequent letter had been longer than the last; each slightly more intimate - more personal - as Natalia seemed to grow increasingly comfortable with her task.
Her choice of recipes also seemed to be growing more assertive. When Olivia opened the next container, she found squares of fragrant, cinnamon dusted cake. The recipe for it wasn’t very difficult, but the final step involved soaking the cake in a cardamom-laced honey syrup, and Olivia wasn’t sure if Natalia had ever worked with cardamom before. She herself hadn’t, the first time she made this recipe; it had also been her first experience working with a dessert that called for whole spices--cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods.
She had learned to make it for Catherine. It had been her favorite, and while Olivia would never truly like Reva, Catherine had been her friend. During the time she knew Reva as a different person, Olivia had many opportunities to observe the other woman’s courage, and she had admired her. It was why she stepped aside, the first time, when Richard fell in love with her.
Given the difference in their social standings, the friendship could only be so deep, but they had shared the occasional afternoon tea, and the food served to them had frequently included cake that Olivia made herself.
Olivia had enjoyed those quiet moments with a friend. At the time, such an experience was foreign to her.
She had wanted to share that, with Natalia. It was one reason she had bought her the cookbook. She had thought they could share the experience of cooking together, eating together. Olivia had never made a recipe from this book with someone, only for someone, so that part would be new to her, too.
She looked at the cake again and felt a surge of pride. Like with Catherine, what had first drawn Olivia to Natalia was her courage.
Before Natalia, Olivia had never met anyone who would not only stand up for her, but also stand up to her, completely unafraid of their disagreements--completely unafraid of her...
Olivia--
I’m writing in bed this time. I already finished my baking for tonight, and I think I’ll try to sleep before Francesca wakes up. We’ll see. I always slept better when I knew you were sleeping down the hall. I miss you being there. I miss making you coffee in the morning.
You’re challenging me again. Today’s recipe scared me when I first decided to make it. It seemed so difficult. I had never in my life made a syrup or ground my own spices. These aren’t things I’m good at. These aren’t things I know.
But I tried it anyways...
Olivia couldn’t seem to control her reading speed--or her need to know what Natalia had made next. Before she had even finished the letter in her hand, she was already reaching for another container. She glanced at the date, confirming she had the right one, and then she pulled off the lid. The container was full of lightly sugared beignets that - as Natalia herself noted - hadn’t quite turned out.
...and please don’t tell Sam about these. I think he hates me enough already...
Olivia laughed. It was true that Sam would probably have a comment or two, if he were served this batch of his favorite pastry. However, Natalia was wrong about one thing--Olivia was pretty sure that Sam didn’t hate her. After Christmas, he had been remarkably quiet about Olivia’s choice to spend the day with the woman who had broken her heart. Considering what he had witnessed over the summer, and knowing Sam, his lack of commentary could even be taken as a compliment.
Gently placing the letter on the bed next to her, Olivia picked up the next container. This one held small, free-form apple tarts. They had a rustic quality that made Olivia think of picnics, and she felt certain that her comment had reflected her desire for them to go out together, as a family. Back when she lived at the palace, they had picnicked all the time. She hadn’t realized, until Emma’s comment before the barbecue, how long it had been since she’d actually enjoyed one of them...
Olivia--
I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But I miss you. I miss us. I miss everything about us, and I miss our family.
You’re missing so many moments in the lives of our daughters, and I don’t know how to get them back for you.
During Emma’s visit this week, she wanted to try drinking tea with her cookies rather than hot chocolate. I thought about giving her a cup. I have leftover sugar cubes from a church luncheon I helped organize, and I thought she would enjoy getting to put them in her tea.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t give them to her. I made her wait. I made her wait for you, but it’s not easy for her and it’s not easy for me...
Olivia’s hand shook as she reached out for the final container. When she opened it, she knew she was going to cry, even before she pulled out the letter.
The cookies nestled below the envelope weren’t from a recipe out of her book. They were Natalia’s cookies, the ones that Olivia and Emma had been unable to reproduce on their own during her absence.
Olivia slowly unfolded the letter, trying to focus on Natalia’s words, no longer able to hold back her tears.
...there’s room to add recipes at the back of this book, and I’ve already written this one on the first of the blank pages. I know it’s not very fancy, but you like these cookies and so does Emma, and I want to make them with you again. I want to make all of these recipes with you.
I don’t know how else I can show you how much I want a life with you, Olivia. I miss you so much, and I’m tired of waiting. I know what I want. I want you.
I know what you did for me. All those nice things. I learned about some of them from Frank, during our pre-marriage counseling. I learned about some of them during the fall. And I know about the meeting with Sister Anne.
I know how much you’ve done for me. I know how much you love me. But even though you’ve given me so much, I do need something from you-
Will you come inside with me? Please?
Love always,
Olivia reached out and touched the letter--touched Natalia’s name. Wiping away her tears, she looked around her, at the bed, at the way she was surrounded by the evidence of Natalia’s love for her. It was everywhere she looked--and she now knew it always had been. No one had ever loved her like this.
No one had ever done something like this for her before.
For a long time, Olivia simply sat there, her gaze drifting from one item to another. She thought about reading the letters again, then decided against it. Instead, she put them away, carefully sliding each one into the correct envelope and then setting them in a pile on the unused side of the bed.
She stood up and walked into their dining area, returning to the bed carrying a small stack of plates. Methodically, she arranged all the baked goods onto the plates, completely emptying each container.
After she was done, she stacked the containers, placing all the lids in the top one.
Her pace increased as she grabbed her purse. She juggled it and the containers as she shoved her bare feet into her shoes, practically tripping in her haste to get out the door.
***
Natalia was sitting on a chair on the porch when Olivia pulled into the driveway. She stood as Olivia got out of the car, but didn’t come any closer.
Olivia left her purse in the passenger seat, but grabbed the containers before she shut the door. She walked up the path to the porch, not quite able to look at Natalia as she approached her. Even after she had climbed the steps and was standing right in front of her, she still couldn’t look at her.
“Here,” she said, holding out the containers. “I brought these back for you.”
Natalia took them, and Olivia noticed how she was careful not to let their hands touch. “Thank you,” she said, quietly, uncertainly.
Not wanting to cause her any more pain, Olivia looked up at her then, and Natalia’s face lit up. Olivia didn’t think she had ever seen a more beautiful smile.
“You liked it? I thought-” Natalia paused as Olivia took a halting step forward and reached out to touch her face. For a second, Natalia’s eyes closed, and Olivia could tell she was savoring the touch. When she opened her eyes, she looked up, searching Olivia’s face. “I wanted you-”
Natalia’s words were cut off as Olivia took one last step forward, cupped Natalia’s face in her hands--and kissed her.
Natalia made a soft sound of surprise, and Olivia heard the containers hit to the ground, felt them bounce off her feet before they clattered across the porch.
And then it was like last time, it was like she remembered, only better, because she could feel Natalia’s hands gripping her shoulders, pulling her closer, she could feel Natalia’s mouth opening under her own--she could feel Natalia’s lips softening as she kissed her back.
It went on for a long time. Every time Olivia tried to draw back, Natalia followed her, unwilling to let her go.
Olivia finally brushed her lips reassuringly, once, twice, then pulled back just far enough to be able to look her in the face. She smiled at her and received a tremulous smile in return.
Sliding her hand upwards, Olivia used her thumb to wipe a tear from Natalia’s cheek. “Hi,” she said softly, unable to look away from her. “I missed you.”
Natalia leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I missed you too."
***
Olivia walked into the living room behind Natalia, who immediately moved to the sofa and lowered herself onto the cushion closest to the door.
“It’s good to sit down,” Natalia said, holding out a hand to her. “Are your legs shaking?”
“Oh yeah,” Olivia said honestly. She sat down next to Natalia and took the offered hand, raising it to her lips.
“Mine too.”
Olivia loved the slight catch in Natalia’s voice. She had missed touching her so much. As she lowered their hands to rest on the couch, she cautioned herself to go slow. They had a lot of catching-up to do.
“Well, you have to be tired,” she said. “You’ve been very busy.”
“I have,” Natalia agreed, and Olivia thought she should feel flattered that Natalia looked so pleased with the results.
Olivia couldn’t help the wonder in her voice as she said, “You love me.”
Natalia smiled the smile that Olivia so adored. Intimate. Secretive. Hers. “Yes.”
“No one’s ever done something like that for me.”
“They should have.” Natalia pulled their hands into her lap and studied Olivia’s face. Olivia knew when her expression betrayed her - when Natalia saw the last tendrils of her doubt - because she laughed softly. “I love you so much, Olivia. I was really afraid of what I’d be willing to give up to be with you.”
She didn’t have to explain further. Olivia understood. “I never wanted you to make that choice.”
“Neither did God,” Natalia informed her. She shifted her body closer to Olivia’s and Olivia smiled as she felt Natalia’s head tilt to rest on her shoulder.
They sat like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word, until Olivia took a closer look at the pictures on the coffee table. They were of Francesca, clearly taken right after Natalia had brought her home, and Olivia suddenly felt the weight of her regret.
“Natalia,” she said, “I’m sorry-”
“I am too,” Natalia said, not moving from her position. “I love you, Olivia.”
Olivia supposed they could talk about it later. “I love you too,” she said, tilting her head down so that her cheek rested against the side of Natalia’s hair.
This time, it was Natalia who raised Olivia’s hand so that she could kiss her fingers and, after another period of silence, it was Natalia who reached up to cradle Olivia’s face so that they could share another kiss.
***
Part 7
Pairing: Otalia
Word Count: 59,995 (complete)
Rating: R
Summary: forgiveness is a tricky thing.
Yellow
“We might have to give up some things if we’re gonna be together.”
“I don’t want to give up anything. I don’t...I want...I want all of it. I want all of the things that people in love share.”
“Cause you want the grand gesture. And I...I dunno. Should I get up and do my ‘I love Olivia’ dance? Would that make you happy?”
“Yeah, I’d like to see that, actually.”
Side 2
Olivia walked into her office and shut the door. For a second she stood there and studied it, fighting the urge to turn the lock as well. She already regretted her choice as she decided against it, well-aware as she moved towards her desk that she had just accepted further interruptions to her day.
She didn’t remember the last time the Beacon had been this hectic. It was good that business was picking up again, but between dealing with the needs of a sudden influx of guests, the frequent calls from her business contacts in the midwest, and the complications in her personal life, Olivia had been feeling close to overwhelmed. She needed an afternoon here - in her office, by herself - to re-organize her priorities and re-think her long-term strategy--but she thought it unlikely that she would actually get it.
This despite the fact that not five minutes ago, she had told her new assistant that she was not to be disturbed until she indicated otherwise. She had told him--but she did not trust him to make it happen. He cared too much about offending others; it frequently made him useless.
She supposed he was in good company. Considering the volume at which she had given him the order, everyone who worked near her office had to be aware of her desire to remain at her desk, uninterrupted, for the next few hours. However, she didn’t have any more faith in them than in her assistant to prove their usefulness if a reason arose to put her order to the test.
It was all Greg’s fault, really. He had taken personal time today to prepare for his upcoming departure - time which Olivia herself had approved - but it had all been scheduled before the Beacon ballroom had been booked for an event this weekend.
The event in question involved several hundred people and any number of last-minute arrangements. Due to the lack of notice, Olivia had been able to charge a fortune without encountering a murmur of protest, but the monetary profits had come with a foreseeable cost--
Stress. Mostly in other people, but she had caught part of it. And it was something she really didn’t need in her life right now.
The only benefit of the situation was that she had a ready excuse for missing the Spaulding get-together this weekend. Phillip had called earlier this week to tell her about it, asking if she and Emma would be able to attend. He had even invited both of them to stay at the mansion, if Olivia liked the idea. A number of out-of-town Spauldings were making an appearance, which meant there would be endless hours of dining and socialization.
Olivia might have agreed to go for part of it, but the main reason for the impromptu reunion was a party Phillip and Beth had planned for Saturday--a party being held for Lizzie and Bill, in honor of Lizzie’s recently announced pregnancy. After she heard that, Olivia hadn’t felt the least bit sorry to have to decline the invitation for herself. She would never enjoy hearing Lizzie’s name anywhere in the vicinity of discussions regarding pregnancy. She had instantly begged off, citing business, a reason that Phillip of all people would understand.
In the interest of family relations, Olivia had agreed to let Emma attend without her. She had dropped her off at Phillip’s earlier this afternoon with the plan that she would stay at the mansion for a long weekend. Initially, Olivia hadn’t been sure about her stay there starting on a Thursday, but Phillip had assured her that he could be trusted to get their daughter to school on time the next day.
After having gotten her back from Ava so recently, Olivia still found it difficult to let her go, even for a weekend, but Emma had been excited at the prospect of a big party...and her absence granted Olivia another reprieve.
She had another Friday before she had to explain her weekly dinners to her daughter.
She would admit it--another reason she had been in no hurry to spend Friday night with the Spauldings was that, in her mind, the night already belonged to someone else...though she didn’t know their plans for this week.
They hadn’t set up their dinner yet. She was still waiting for Natalia’s call.
When Olivia had dropped Emma off at the farmhouse yesterday for her visit, the subject hadn’t come up. Olivia hadn’t wanted to discuss the topic with Emma present, and Natalia had also avoided it. She seemed to understand without being told that Olivia hadn’t figured out how to explain their dinners to her daughter.
And now she had been given another week to decide.
Once again, Olivia didn’t know what to tell Emma. The relationship between herself and Natalia was different now than it had been before Emma went away.
When Olivia had accepted Ava’s offer for Emma to visit her, she had done so with the intent of sitting Emma down and talking to her after she returned.
Although Emma had seemed so happy - so reassured - the first few weeks after Christmas, by the end of January Olivia had seen her discontent resurface. Emma hadn’t accepted the separation--she not only missed Natalia, she missed them all doing things together. It had gotten to the point that every time Olivia offered to take Emma anywhere, she asked if Natalia could go with them, too.
It hadn’t gone on for very long before Olivia couldn’t take it anymore. She had sent Emma off to Ava’s for a vacation before she told her. She thought that maybe giving her daughter some distance from the situation before she learned the reality of it would make accepting the truth easier on her.
But then, before Emma came back, the dinners had started. And, once again, Olivia was faced with the question of whether the full conversation was necessary.
If she and Natalia really could be friends in more than name only - similar to how they had been friends before - then she might not have to tell Emma much at all. It wouldn’t be everything they once had as a family, but they could do the occasional meal together or simply meet for ice-cream. That might be enough, for Emma...
And Olivia wouldn’t have to say anything else. She wouldn’t have to tell her any of the reasons they had spent so much time apart.
She wouldn’t have to hurt her, not the way-
“-the way you’ve been hurt?”
She heard Natalia’s gentle words, and the honesty of them made her feel almost ashamed. Not telling Emma might seem the easiest course of action, a way to protect both Emma and Natalia - a way to protect herself as well - but did that make it the right decision?
Did she owe her daughter the truth?
Was it fair to Emma to keep downplaying the changes in their lives? To keep trying to placate her longing for them to be a family again with the closest acceptable substitute she could manage on any given day? If she wasn’t satisfied with her own attempts, why should she assume Emma would feel any differently? She had already underestimated the depth of Emma’s feelings as compared to her own, both in the summer and in the fall. Did she really want to do it again?
And was it fair to Natalia to accept her presence in their lives, but only in a role far less meaningful than the one she still seemed to want?
There was only a single interpretation for Natalia’s actions towards her--
She wanted more. She wanted a lot more than they had right now; she wanted more than Olivia was willing to give.
Olivia knew what Natalia was doing, had known what she was doing for months, and, she admitted to herself, she had let her do it. She couldn’t find it in herself to be cold enough to stop her. She would have once been capable of it, of playing on Natalia’s insecurities, her shame. It would have taken very little effort--a few well-timed remarks, a look, then a silence. It could be over in seconds, cruel beyond measure, but quick, if not quite clean.
But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hurt her like that. Irrevocably.
She couldn’t completely let go of the woman who had shown such faith in her, even at her most undeserving.
“I trust you with my life, and I hope that you can do the same.”
Olivia hadn’t even had to think about her reply. She’d had so much faith--first in Natalia, then in them, together.
She missed it, her utter conviction in them, and she knew that Natalia missed it, too. Olivia had seen the look of recognition on Natalia’s face when she realized what her leaving had cost them. The look on her face once the words had been said, out loud, to her--“I don’t trust you.”
Olivia had thought that was it. They were done.
Except that Natalia had refused to accept the loss...and, in the last few weeks, Olivia had found herself questioning it with her.
Olivia still didn’t know how Natalia had done it. In some ways, she had been the Natalia that Olivia knew - respectful of her feelings, kind, self-sacrificing - but in her own quiet way, she had also reminded Olivia of herself.
She had been relentless in going after what she thought she wanted.
She had also been more successful than Olivia believed possible.
Olivia could still see her own hand pressed against the door as she tried to ignore Natalia’s presence behind her. She could still feel the grain of the wood against her palm as she tried to concentrate on anything other than her reaction to the intimacy of Natalia’s words--“Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
She had wanted to say yes. More than anything, she wanted to ask her inside.
She wanted to see if Natalia felt like she remembered; she wanted to rediscover her responsiveness, her warmth. She wanted to hold her and stroke her hair.
She wanted to tell her they could be happy together--that everything was alright.
But it wasn’t and she couldn’t. She wouldn’t lie to her.
“I don’t trust you.”
And yet, she wished that she could. She wanted her and she wanted them.
She wanted so many things...
“You love me, Olivia, and you know how much-”
Olivia closed her eyes as she waited for the feeling to pass.
When she could concentrate again, she opened her eyes and focused on the messages on the desk in front of her. For the rest of the afternoon she worked without a break, effectively ignoring her personal life for a few hours.
Or, at least, almost. Despite herself, she did keep glancing at the phone in between fielding business calls. No matter what they did tomorrow night, she was looking forward to spending time with her.
***
Later, in bed that night, for the first time in months Olivia allowed herself to think of Natalia while she took care of herself, the rhythm of her fingers changing almost immediately, their movements slower, deeper. She couldn't hold back a quiet sigh. She had missed this. She had missed thinking of them, like this.
She’d felt a vague sense of guilt, the first time she’d done it, not for the act itself, but for bringing Natalia into it, given the nature of the gratification. It wasn’t until they talked about sex, about how Natalia wanted it, wanted her, that Olivia had finally felt comfortable admitting the extent of her desire, of admitting her need to hold the woman she loved.
She shifted positions, her breath quickening. It was amazing how good it felt, thinking of her, thinking of them, together.
The strength of her release shook her, sudden, almost brutal, and she didn’t even attempt to stifle the name, her cry--
Natalia.
***
Olivia took the elevator down to the lobby. She used the few seconds she had alone to compose herself, to hide her disappointment.
Natalia hadn’t called.
And Olivia didn’t know why. She knew it was a mystery she could easily solve, her phone could dial as well as receive, but she found herself at a loss. She felt uncomfortable with her inability to read the situation.
She had rejected Natalia’s advances outside her hotel room--did that mean she was supposed to call? It was the type of back-and-forth, cat-and-mouse relationship dynamics that Olivia used to be so good at comprehending...and then exploiting to her own advantage. But the two of them had never played those types of games, and it left her feeling confused. Uncertain. Why wouldn’t Natalia call?
As Olivia stepped out of the elevator, she decided that she wouldn’t go after her this time. If this was what Natalia wanted-
“Ms. Spencer?”
Recognizing the voice, Olivia immediately looked in the direction of the front desk and saw David motioning towards a package sitting on the counter in front of him.
She approached him, pleased that her desk clerks had finally internalized her preferences regarding packages. She far preferred to take them to her room herself, particularly if they had been hand-delivered rather than mailed.
“This just came for you,” he said as she walked up to him. “Do you want me to hold it for you until-”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She barely looked at him as she picked up the package. It was a large, cardboard box, labeled with her name. The label was in Natalia’s handwriting, which was the norm for packages Olivia picked up from the front desk that hadn’t been sent by mail. Usually the dropped-off packages contained items for Emma - hand-sewn costumes and so forth - and Natalia always called first, so that Olivia would be expecting them.
Olivia found herself curious enough about Natalia’s departure from tradition that she decided the errands she had planned to accomplish could wait.
She headed straight back up to her suite. Once inside, she set the box on the edge of her bed and opened it. Inside she found two stacks of semi-transparent plastic containers with clear blue lids. As she pulled the containers out of the box and lined them up on the bed, she counted seven in total.
She could tell simply by glancing at them that they were filled with baked goods. It wasn’t until she looked closer, through one of the lids, that she could see that each container also held an envelope on which Natalia had handwritten a date. The earliest of the dates was the day of their dinner last week; the latest date was from yesterday.
Olivia still felt too curious to consider the wisdom of opening the containers. She picked up the one dated from last Friday and pulled off the lid.
The sudden aroma of chocolate was almost overpowering, but not in a bad way. She could see around the sides of the envelope and instantly recognized the individual cakes that filled the container. Though she couldn’t see inside the cakes themselves, she knew they contained dried fruit. She could also tell that Natalia had made a substitution--walnuts for the recommended macadamias.
Olivia knew this recipe by heart. It was one of the simpler ones in the book she had given Natalia; one she used to make for Marissa on the rare occasions she allowed herself to visit her sister and Jonathan. At the time, Olivia had preferred more elegant pastries, but her sister hadn’t, and so she had found this recipe and made the cakes for her, knowing she would enjoy them - simple and not-too-sweet.
She hadn’t made them since Marissa’s death. Although she loved Jonathan, had once risked everything important to her in order to protect him, Olivia had never forgiven Reva for everything she had lost by protecting her son. She had missed so much time with her sister before she died.
As Olivia pulled the envelope out of the container and carefully unfolded the sheets of paper inside, she wondered how much Natalia had known about Marissa, about Jonathan, when she read the note inside the cookbook.
Olivia looked down at the papers in her hand and realized that she was holding a letter. For a moment she sat, deliberating, and then she purposefully shifted herself back on the bed so that she could rest her back against the headboard as she read.
Olivia--
It's been a long time since I've written something like this.
Did I ever tell you that Nicky used to write these for me? I took them with me, when I ran away from home with Rafe. I only had a single suitcase, and I took his letters. I was young and pretty much on my own and even years after he left, I would take them out and think of him, sometimes.
I think about you all the time.
Even though we were young, Nick and I had a lot to say to each other, but not like this. Maybe you’ll see here what you won’t let me say.
I love you, Olivia. And it’s hard to write letters to the love of your life. It’s hard to know what to say. You mean so much to me.
It was your Christmas gift that helped me know what to do. It’s not a new idea. It’s something I’ve done for you and Emma many times before, but you’ve always liked it.
I decided to bake for you. I would have liked to have made these recipes with you, but maybe it’s better that I got a chance to make them for you by myself. You might have been tempted to take over or direct me. And I know my kitchen too well for that.
I know my kitchen and I know you. I know how much you love me.
I wanted to start by making your favorite dessert, but it’s not really possible to get fresh mango here this early in the spring, so I chose to make something with chocolate instead. Emma would be proud of me.
I made this recipe first because I had most of the ingredients. I used walnuts instead of macadamia nuts, and I hope that’s okay. I know I should have waited until the grocery store opened and made them the way you’re used to, but I’m so tired of waiting. I wanted to start right away. We’ll make them again sometime, the right way. I’m sure you’ll be willing to show me how it’s done.
I tasted one when I finished, and I like them. I’m only making recipes that you commented on, and I don’t know if they’re the best, or just the ones you had comments for.
I already know how much our tastes can differ. I’m getting to see what you’re used to, the caviar sandwiches, and it’s wonderful.
I love you, Olivia, and I miss you. The house seems empty without you here.
Love always,
Natalia
Olivia felt almost numb as she looked at the letter in her hand. Before she had time to dwell on what she had just read, she picked up the container that had the next envelope in the series and opened it.
The sight of the neat rows of biscotti inside made her ache, even after all this time. She had made these, for Richard.
During their engagement, he had breakfast brought to her in bed almost every day. One morning, shortly before they were due to announce their upcoming wedding, she had finally surprised him, bringing him a tray with these cookies and an espresso. She would have brought him more - she wanted to make him something that tested her skills as a chef - but Richard hated making love on a full stomach...
Olivia turned to the letter.
Olivia--
Francesca is back at home tonight, keeping me company while I bake. She’s calmer when I feed her down here. I think she likes the smell of cookies, or maybe she just likes the kitchen. You always liked my kitchen, too.
Right now, she’s sleeping. It’s easier, keeping a baby asleep, when there’s no traffic outside. When Rafe was little, I didn’t get much sleep at night. Sometimes I think he woke up every time a car passed by...
Olivia had to pause at the picture created by Natalia’s words. She could see her clearly, awake and alone in the middle of the night. Except that she wasn’t seeing a teenaged Natalia holding a crying Rafe, she was seeing her Natalia, right now, handling nighttime feedings alone, in between stints of twice-baking biscotti.
She had never experienced such a detailed picture of Natalia’s life in her absence.
...your note says you used to make these cookies for Richard. You never told me why you didn’t marry him. I guess we don't talk a lot about our pasts...
Olivia wondered that Natalia hadn’t noticed it before. She knew why she preferred not to discuss her own past in too much detail. She didn’t know Natalia’s reasons, but she had always respected her privacy--had even helped her change the subject once or twice, when she looked uncomfortable...
Needing a distraction from memories of herself, of Natalia, Olivia picked up the next container. The cookies inside this one almost made her smile. Natalia had made the butter cookie recipe. The container was completely full of them--delicate cookies sandwiched together with jam. Olivia had frequently used fig jam for the filling, but she thought that Natalia had used her favorite, blackberry.
These were the cookies that had most commonly been served during afternoon gatherings of diplomats.
Olivia had received her first marriage proposal after one such gathering. At the time, she had been free to accept. Richard had still been in mourning for Catherine; he barely noticed Olivia’s presence. Despite his inattention, she had been far too in love with him to truly consider anyone else, though her feelings hadn’t stopped her from taking other men to bed from time-to-time. This time, she’d apparently made a greater impression than she realized, and she’d found herself trying to extricate herself from something that could have turned into a small scandal, considering the proposal came from a visiting diplomat on whom Richard heavily relied.
She had managed to talk her way out of it, her refusal offending no one. However, Richard had become aware of the offer towards her--and had promptly raised her salary and kept her much closer to him. She had been thrilled. She hadn’t known then that she would never be his first choice. That he would never really love her.
Olivia shifted her attention to the letter that accompanied the cookies. She only made it through a few paragraphs before she was smiling again, past relationships momentarily forgotten.
...this isn’t the kind of cooking I’m used to. I’m not surprised to see that tuna noodle casserole isn’t in this book.
When you said you grew up poor, I imagined you eating it with you family. But now, I don't know. Did you have tuna noodle casserole on San Cristobal? If you didn’t, you’re the first person I’ve met that likes it who didn’t grow up with it. Was it the first thing you ate at Company when you came here? Why did you ever decide to try it...
Olivia rested her head back against the headboard, still smiling. She had been surprised to learn that Natalia didn’t even like the casserole. They had eaten it often at the farmhouse, and Olivia hadn’t discerned that Natalia had been doing that just for her. She knew that Natalia wouldn’t make it anymore without her there.
Olivia looked back down at the letter again, and finished it. As she put the pages back into the envelope, she realized that the first of Natalia’s letters had been the shortest by far. Each subsequent letter had been longer than the last; each slightly more intimate - more personal - as Natalia seemed to grow increasingly comfortable with her task.
Her choice of recipes also seemed to be growing more assertive. When Olivia opened the next container, she found squares of fragrant, cinnamon dusted cake. The recipe for it wasn’t very difficult, but the final step involved soaking the cake in a cardamom-laced honey syrup, and Olivia wasn’t sure if Natalia had ever worked with cardamom before. She herself hadn’t, the first time she made this recipe; it had also been her first experience working with a dessert that called for whole spices--cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods.
She had learned to make it for Catherine. It had been her favorite, and while Olivia would never truly like Reva, Catherine had been her friend. During the time she knew Reva as a different person, Olivia had many opportunities to observe the other woman’s courage, and she had admired her. It was why she stepped aside, the first time, when Richard fell in love with her.
Given the difference in their social standings, the friendship could only be so deep, but they had shared the occasional afternoon tea, and the food served to them had frequently included cake that Olivia made herself.
Olivia had enjoyed those quiet moments with a friend. At the time, such an experience was foreign to her.
She had wanted to share that, with Natalia. It was one reason she had bought her the cookbook. She had thought they could share the experience of cooking together, eating together. Olivia had never made a recipe from this book with someone, only for someone, so that part would be new to her, too.
She looked at the cake again and felt a surge of pride. Like with Catherine, what had first drawn Olivia to Natalia was her courage.
Before Natalia, Olivia had never met anyone who would not only stand up for her, but also stand up to her, completely unafraid of their disagreements--completely unafraid of her...
Olivia--
I’m writing in bed this time. I already finished my baking for tonight, and I think I’ll try to sleep before Francesca wakes up. We’ll see. I always slept better when I knew you were sleeping down the hall. I miss you being there. I miss making you coffee in the morning.
You’re challenging me again. Today’s recipe scared me when I first decided to make it. It seemed so difficult. I had never in my life made a syrup or ground my own spices. These aren’t things I’m good at. These aren’t things I know.
But I tried it anyways...
Olivia couldn’t seem to control her reading speed--or her need to know what Natalia had made next. Before she had even finished the letter in her hand, she was already reaching for another container. She glanced at the date, confirming she had the right one, and then she pulled off the lid. The container was full of lightly sugared beignets that - as Natalia herself noted - hadn’t quite turned out.
...and please don’t tell Sam about these. I think he hates me enough already...
Olivia laughed. It was true that Sam would probably have a comment or two, if he were served this batch of his favorite pastry. However, Natalia was wrong about one thing--Olivia was pretty sure that Sam didn’t hate her. After Christmas, he had been remarkably quiet about Olivia’s choice to spend the day with the woman who had broken her heart. Considering what he had witnessed over the summer, and knowing Sam, his lack of commentary could even be taken as a compliment.
Gently placing the letter on the bed next to her, Olivia picked up the next container. This one held small, free-form apple tarts. They had a rustic quality that made Olivia think of picnics, and she felt certain that her comment had reflected her desire for them to go out together, as a family. Back when she lived at the palace, they had picnicked all the time. She hadn’t realized, until Emma’s comment before the barbecue, how long it had been since she’d actually enjoyed one of them...
Olivia--
I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But I miss you. I miss us. I miss everything about us, and I miss our family.
You’re missing so many moments in the lives of our daughters, and I don’t know how to get them back for you.
During Emma’s visit this week, she wanted to try drinking tea with her cookies rather than hot chocolate. I thought about giving her a cup. I have leftover sugar cubes from a church luncheon I helped organize, and I thought she would enjoy getting to put them in her tea.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t give them to her. I made her wait. I made her wait for you, but it’s not easy for her and it’s not easy for me...
Olivia’s hand shook as she reached out for the final container. When she opened it, she knew she was going to cry, even before she pulled out the letter.
The cookies nestled below the envelope weren’t from a recipe out of her book. They were Natalia’s cookies, the ones that Olivia and Emma had been unable to reproduce on their own during her absence.
Olivia slowly unfolded the letter, trying to focus on Natalia’s words, no longer able to hold back her tears.
...there’s room to add recipes at the back of this book, and I’ve already written this one on the first of the blank pages. I know it’s not very fancy, but you like these cookies and so does Emma, and I want to make them with you again. I want to make all of these recipes with you.
I don’t know how else I can show you how much I want a life with you, Olivia. I miss you so much, and I’m tired of waiting. I know what I want. I want you.
I know what you did for me. All those nice things. I learned about some of them from Frank, during our pre-marriage counseling. I learned about some of them during the fall. And I know about the meeting with Sister Anne.
I know how much you’ve done for me. I know how much you love me. But even though you’ve given me so much, I do need something from you-
Will you come inside with me? Please?
Love always,
Olivia reached out and touched the letter--touched Natalia’s name. Wiping away her tears, she looked around her, at the bed, at the way she was surrounded by the evidence of Natalia’s love for her. It was everywhere she looked--and she now knew it always had been. No one had ever loved her like this.
No one had ever done something like this for her before.
For a long time, Olivia simply sat there, her gaze drifting from one item to another. She thought about reading the letters again, then decided against it. Instead, she put them away, carefully sliding each one into the correct envelope and then setting them in a pile on the unused side of the bed.
She stood up and walked into their dining area, returning to the bed carrying a small stack of plates. Methodically, she arranged all the baked goods onto the plates, completely emptying each container.
After she was done, she stacked the containers, placing all the lids in the top one.
Her pace increased as she grabbed her purse. She juggled it and the containers as she shoved her bare feet into her shoes, practically tripping in her haste to get out the door.
***
Natalia was sitting on a chair on the porch when Olivia pulled into the driveway. She stood as Olivia got out of the car, but didn’t come any closer.
Olivia left her purse in the passenger seat, but grabbed the containers before she shut the door. She walked up the path to the porch, not quite able to look at Natalia as she approached her. Even after she had climbed the steps and was standing right in front of her, she still couldn’t look at her.
“Here,” she said, holding out the containers. “I brought these back for you.”
Natalia took them, and Olivia noticed how she was careful not to let their hands touch. “Thank you,” she said, quietly, uncertainly.
Not wanting to cause her any more pain, Olivia looked up at her then, and Natalia’s face lit up. Olivia didn’t think she had ever seen a more beautiful smile.
“You liked it? I thought-” Natalia paused as Olivia took a halting step forward and reached out to touch her face. For a second, Natalia’s eyes closed, and Olivia could tell she was savoring the touch. When she opened her eyes, she looked up, searching Olivia’s face. “I wanted you-”
Natalia’s words were cut off as Olivia took one last step forward, cupped Natalia’s face in her hands--and kissed her.
Natalia made a soft sound of surprise, and Olivia heard the containers hit to the ground, felt them bounce off her feet before they clattered across the porch.
And then it was like last time, it was like she remembered, only better, because she could feel Natalia’s hands gripping her shoulders, pulling her closer, she could feel Natalia’s mouth opening under her own--she could feel Natalia’s lips softening as she kissed her back.
It went on for a long time. Every time Olivia tried to draw back, Natalia followed her, unwilling to let her go.
Olivia finally brushed her lips reassuringly, once, twice, then pulled back just far enough to be able to look her in the face. She smiled at her and received a tremulous smile in return.
Sliding her hand upwards, Olivia used her thumb to wipe a tear from Natalia’s cheek. “Hi,” she said softly, unable to look away from her. “I missed you.”
Natalia leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "I missed you too."
***
Olivia walked into the living room behind Natalia, who immediately moved to the sofa and lowered herself onto the cushion closest to the door.
“It’s good to sit down,” Natalia said, holding out a hand to her. “Are your legs shaking?”
“Oh yeah,” Olivia said honestly. She sat down next to Natalia and took the offered hand, raising it to her lips.
“Mine too.”
Olivia loved the slight catch in Natalia’s voice. She had missed touching her so much. As she lowered their hands to rest on the couch, she cautioned herself to go slow. They had a lot of catching-up to do.
“Well, you have to be tired,” she said. “You’ve been very busy.”
“I have,” Natalia agreed, and Olivia thought she should feel flattered that Natalia looked so pleased with the results.
Olivia couldn’t help the wonder in her voice as she said, “You love me.”
Natalia smiled the smile that Olivia so adored. Intimate. Secretive. Hers. “Yes.”
“No one’s ever done something like that for me.”
“They should have.” Natalia pulled their hands into her lap and studied Olivia’s face. Olivia knew when her expression betrayed her - when Natalia saw the last tendrils of her doubt - because she laughed softly. “I love you so much, Olivia. I was really afraid of what I’d be willing to give up to be with you.”
She didn’t have to explain further. Olivia understood. “I never wanted you to make that choice.”
“Neither did God,” Natalia informed her. She shifted her body closer to Olivia’s and Olivia smiled as she felt Natalia’s head tilt to rest on her shoulder.
They sat like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word, until Olivia took a closer look at the pictures on the coffee table. They were of Francesca, clearly taken right after Natalia had brought her home, and Olivia suddenly felt the weight of her regret.
“Natalia,” she said, “I’m sorry-”
“I am too,” Natalia said, not moving from her position. “I love you, Olivia.”
Olivia supposed they could talk about it later. “I love you too,” she said, tilting her head down so that her cheek rested against the side of Natalia’s hair.
This time, it was Natalia who raised Olivia’s hand so that she could kiss her fingers and, after another period of silence, it was Natalia who reached up to cradle Olivia’s face so that they could share another kiss.
***
Part 7