Fic Post: Law and Order SVU - Slick Rock Chapter 2
Series: Walking on Slick Rock
Chapter Two: Number 35
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Law and Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/OFC; discussion of Alex/Olivia
Rating: I rate all my series as Adult because I never know when the sex will be had.
A/N: (1) Never fear. The final chapter of Angel Seeker is coming. This story just took control and would not let me go! (2) As with all my stuff, it takes place in the same fanverse I have created over at vega_voices. This particular series answers the question: what happened after the Connors Trial.
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns all, but Alejandra Ramos. But since she’s been dropped into this series, I make no money off of her.
Summary: For a moment, the world spun around her. For just a moment, she allowed herself to picture her apartment overlooking Central Park and waking up next to Olivia and arguing a case in front of Judge Petrovsky. For just a moment, she dreamed of going home. But there was someone else they had to wait for.
And as you pray in the darkness
For wings to set you free
You are bound to your silent legacy
~From Silent Legacy (Melissa Etheridge)
***
“And this is the main room,” Meridee said with a smile. “Teachers use it as a lounge and prep area. We don’t have enough space to all have our own offices, but you can grab that desk over there in the corner. Once a week, the teachers that the non-profit hired meet here as well.”
“There are five of us, right?” Alex dropped her backpack onto the battered desk and chuckled. It was like being a rookie ADA all over again. Cramped quarters, no privacy, noise and chaos. It actually felt good.
“Yes.”
“And how many teachers total at the school?”
“Twenty.” Meridee paused. “You have to understand something, Jennifer. The kids at this school, they’re going to give you a lot of crap. The only thing worse than a white chick coming onto the reservation to teach us about a history that’s been stolen from us is one of us running away from the res and not coming back.”
“Okay.” Alex nodded. “I think I can handle it. The only thing that kids from rural areas hate more than democrats are smart-mouth women who come in and try to teach them anything that isn’t related to the bible.”
Meridee laughed. “All right. Good luck. Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom.”
Failing schools were nothing new to Alex. She’d combed her way through the rubble of New York’s public school system to dance with guidance counselors who abused their students and teachers raped by the principals. She’d seen roaches in cafeterias and been in classrooms when the ceilings fell. But even still, when she stepped into the battered room that was to be where she taught history to a desperate group of teenagers whose great-grandparents had long since given up hope, she realized the sum of her experiences hadn’t prepared her for what she was now facing. Her mother would be so proud, to see her standing here, doing “Good work.” Her father would be horrified. Alexandra Cabot, the golden daughter of the Cabot family, heir to the family fortune, living on a reservation. The very notion made her laugh and need to cry at the same time. She missed him. So much. Had the Marshals told him anything this time?
“Don’t ever expect to have a full complement of kids in your class. And remember something,” Meridee shrugged, “these kids won’t like you.”
“Well, we have to start somewhere, don’t we?”
“Why’d you take this job, Jennifer? I’m sure Utah has plenty of rural areas that need help.”
“I just … it felt right, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why’d you come back? You have your master’s degree. I’m sure you could have found work anywhere.”
Meridee smiled. “It just felt right, you know. After all, someone with our skin color has to make something of I come from.”
Alex smiled sympathetically.
“I’ll let you get set up.”
***
With a hiss, Alex pulled her t-shirt over her head, wincing as the soft cotton rasped against her dry, painful skin. All the sunscreen in the world couldn’t protect her from the glare of the Arizona sun, and it felt like the sun could find her even through her clothes and every day she was that much more burned. The aloe cream she’d picked up on her last trip up to Wal-Mart had done her little good and seemed only to oil her up rather than cool her down. Carefully, she slid her bra off her shoulders and pulled on a light tank top. With careful movements she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and moved into the kitchen, seeking out the last bottle of water in her fridge. Ali kept hounding her to get one of the pitcher filters and with the money she was spending on bottled water, she was starting to think the other woman was right.
Between the sunburn and her students, she was exhausted. Meridee had been more than accurate in her assessment of their attitudes toward her. The ones that weren’t outright angry to see a history class taught by a white woman had been cold and distant. Starting tomorrow, she needed to reassess how she worked with them. What she was trying wasn’t working. It didn’t help that she had no experience teaching teenagers. The pre-law government classes she’d taught as a third year law student at Harvard had been to auditoriums full of eager students who wanted to go forth and prosper. The torpor of the students, especially the seniors, who came through her door every day depressed her. One student in particular, Carlos Jackson, who spent his days glaring at her from behind his long hair, broke her heart. He was so smart, his arguments so impassioned, but he’d already given up.
What’s the point, teach? What, I go up to the University and I spend four years and the government’s money to get spit at and stare at white kids who live in a land my ancestors fought for? Fuck that.
Alex sighed. She had papers to grade.
A knock on the door startled her and she sighed, calling out for whoever it was to come in. Her handler glared at her as he did. “Jennifer,” Agent Johnson shook his head, “you can’t just do that. You never know who is on the other side of the door.”
“You’re the one who told me no one would find me.” She sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine. You’re right. What do you want?”
“How are things are going.”
“It’s fine. I’m good.” Alex collapsed onto the couch and sneezed as dust rose around her. “Sunburned but okay.”
“Watch yourself, Jenny.” Johnson warned. “Don’t get too close to your people.”
“You wanted to keep me separated from the general population, you should have moved me back to Wisconsin. You sure as hell didn’t do your research on the community down here.”
“You’re white. We didn’t think you’d assimilate like you seem to have. Usually they shun you guys.”
“The white people shun them and you know it.”
“Just watch yourself.”
“I’m not moving again.”
“Right now, you don’t have to. Anyway, I have some news for you.”
“What?”
“Ireland has begun the extradition process for Liam Connors.”
For a moment, the world spun around her. For just a moment, she allowed herself to picture her apartment overlooking Central Park and waking up next to Olivia and arguing a case in front of Judge Petrovsky. For just a moment, she dreamed of going home. But there was someone else they had to wait for.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that some Latin American country we have an extradition treaty with wants Velez?”
“Yes.”
“Jenny!”
Johnson turned quickly to the door but Alex waved him down. “Come on in, Ali.” The other woman came through the door and froze seeing the suit. “Don’t worry, Ali. Agent Johnson was just leaving. He just came by to make sure I was adjusting to being down here.”
“She’s fine, Agent Johnson,” the disgust rolled off Ali’s tongue. “So why don’t you head back to your little office and look for ways to waste the government’s money.”
Only after Johnson rolled his eyes and headed out did Alex let the laughter she’d been suppressing show. “Sorry about that.”
“What? Is he making sure you aren’t getting too close to the natives?”
“Something like that.” Alex shook off the visit. “So what brings you by?”
“Artists block.”
“Really? Thought that was just a writer thing.”
“Oh no. So I thought I’d come by and say hi and maybe drag you out into the dust for a bit of a walk, but you look like you went one on one with a red paint gun so a walk might have to wait until after the sun goes down.”
“I’m a little pale for this climate.”
“I’ll say. You got any aloe?”
“Just some cream.”
“No, the real stuff. Comes out of a plant.”
“No.”
“Give me twenty minutes. I’ll be right back.”
***
Liv,
How I wish I had the words to describe the sunsets I see here. I’ve taken to walking the two miles from the school to my house so that I can enjoy the skies and the way the blues contrast with the red of the rock.
I’ve made a friend. Her name is Ali; she’s an artist, I think I mentioned her in a letter before. Last weekend she picked me up after school and we piled into her beat up old Ford and drove North and spent the weekend in Moab. There’s a rest stop outside of the city, up on top of the canyon, and you can rent a cabin for a weekend - she’d piled sleeping bags and supplies into the truck and we roughed it. It was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that and I have to say, I enjoyed it. We got dirty and she told me ancient stories about the land; I’m sure many of them were completely made up to entertain the ignorant white girl, but we had fun and I know that she wasn’t making fun of me. For a while, I was able to forget about witness protection and New York and just enjoyed living and listening. One night, we went out into the middle of nowhere to see the stars. It was a whole other universe right there in front of me. That night I cried. That night I missed you, I wanted to hold you and share the skies with you. Ali held me though.
Will you hate me if I tell you that I kissed her? It didn’t go beyond that, I wasn’t ready for it and she deserves more than my desperation. I’d have been using her as a replacement, a surrogate, and she is better than that.
She’s taught me good ways to keep from burning. My first few weeks here I was as red as a lobster.
Now it has developed into a healthy tan. Tonight, Ali is teaching me to properly use corn tortillas in a recipe.
Will you hate me if I tell you that I am falling for her? I feel as if I am betraying you, betraying promises we made to each other when I was back in New York for the Connors trial. I love you, Olivia. That is never going to change. I’m just wondering if our time hasn’t passed. Maybe it’s too late …
Quickly, Alex signed her name and numbered the letter. Number 35. The journal went into a new location, tucked under the mattress (how obvious could she be but there were so few hiding places in the house.) Her compulsive tendencies made her step back and smooth the colorful, handmade quilt she’d picked up from one of the bodegas nearby down over her bed.
She had to hurry. Ali was expecting her. Quickly, she pulled her sunglasses from her purse and slid into the tennis shoes she kept by the door. Her keys went into her pocket, her cammo green hat settled on her head, and she walked up the mile to Ali’s comfortable home.
“Hey …”
“Evening.” Ali’s bright face smiled at her from the kitchen. “I’ve got some cold water in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
“Thanks.” Alex poured a glass from the filtered pitcher and leaned against the counter. “So what is tonight’s lesson?”
“The right way to feed yourself.” Ali smiled and handed her a piece of tomato. “How were classes today?”
“Better. I finally got through to Carlos. He’s stopped mouthing off every time I bring up the English settlers landing. I saw him out on the playground today - I didn’t realize he was so good at basketball. That three point shot could get him a scholarship anywhere in the country.”
“It would help if the recruiters came out here. The stories have it that the Indians were playing basketball long before Naismith ever picked up a ball, but of course the colleges don’t want to put us on the court. They just … well, who knows. Maybe they’ll eventually move off the ghettos and come onto the reservations. But, as for Carlos, he has a lot of anger, as you know. His father was a construction worker and spent a lot of time off the res, helping to build the tourist resorts. Got jumped by a group of white kids one night and they beat him to death.”
“Let me guess, the State declined to press charges?”
“No, they pressed them, but the kids got off with slaps on the wrist. Lawyers, go figure.”
Alex had to suppress a smile. “Depends on the lawyer and the judge.”
“Sound like you know more than you are admitting.”
“I dated a cop. You can’t help but learn some of the process.” Alex tilted her head. “What can I do? You brought me here to teach me and I’m standing here chatting.”
“Cooking is as much about chatting as it is cooking. But, since you brought it up, put some oil in that pan and turn it on low. The tortillas are in the crisper in the fridge.”
“What, you aren’t teaching me how to make them?”
“Oh, that’s the next lesson. First, you have to learn how to cook them.”
Obeying her instructor, Alex moved back to the fridge and pulled the bag of corn tortillas from the drawer.
“Take out two.”
Again, following instructions, Alex set the skillet as Ali instructed and dropped the tortillas onto the heated metal. Ali hovered behind her, pointing out when to turn the crisping corn and helping to drop the cheese and vegetables onto the shells as they hardened.
Slowly, Ali came closer, her hands resting on Alex’s hips as they listened to the hiss and pop of the oil and the heat and the crisping of the vegetables.
In the quiet of the kitchen, Alex could have sworn she heard the sun set and she realized she was leaning back against Ali and the other woman’s arms were completely wrapped around her waist. Slowly, she let the air out of her lungs and tilted her head just slightly. “I used to set my stove on fire.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Ali said, the teasing tone in her voice sliding away as she too turned her head, just slightly. They stared at each other for a long moment before Ali pulled back. “Now come on, put those onto two plates and I’ll dish out the extra veggies.”
Alex shivered at the tone in Ali’s voice. Taking a risk she wasn’t sure if she was ready to take, she reached over Ali’s arm for another slice of tomato. Long fingers caught and linked in hers and with a smile, Ali turned and stepped even closer to Alex.
“And sometimes,” Ali said, “cooking is about knowing when to stop talking.”
Alex met the kiss halfway.
***
“So why did you run?” Ali was curled into the papasan chair in the corner of the small bedroom, a t-shirt hanging on her slender body, a sketch pad in her hands. The window was open, allowing the light breeze that had picked up once the night air had settled over the desert. Outside, the desert came to life as animals crawled from their shelter to scurry about.
From her position on the bed, Alex watched the other woman’s fingers as they guided the pencil across the paper and couldn’t help but wonder what art was emerging. With a sigh, she propped her head in her hand and shrugged, feeling the sheet that covered her loosen slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Let’s see if I can guess. You’re a lesbian school teacher who likes to work in rural areas and you used to date a cop and the two of you were outed in some way that shocked the town and brought shame to everyone. I’m surprised the Mormons up there didn’t hang you from the Temple spires as an example.”
“Well, me too, but that wasn’t why I left.”
“Was Olivia killed in the line of duty? That happens a lot down in this area.”
“No.”
“You going to keep making me play twenty questions with your past?”
Alex couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her throat. The last time she’d touched Olivia, they’d promised to let each other go, even though the promises had been empty. What was she doing here, with Ali, falling for Ali? How could she betray Olivia like this? She needed to leave, to run off down the road and crawl into her bed and write and write and dial the only number she’d ever dialed on the disposable cell phone she’d picked up; the one the feds didn’t know she had. Instead, she wiped a stray tear away and stared out the window. “It couldn’t work out. We both wanted it to, but our lives were heading in different directions. We scared each other I think.”
“The best love in the world is frightening. So where is she now? Do you know?”
“She uh … got a job offer in New York.”
“And you didn’t follow her?” Ali scoffed. “Now I know you’re lying to me, Jennifer, and that isn’t nice to do right after you’ve made love to another person. So tell me the truth. You witnessed some horrible crime and got dumped into witness protection?”
For the second time in a day, Alex felt the room spin. She could feel her heart racing and her blood pounded in her ears and she knew she needed to respond but she could only stare straight ahead, down the barrel of Connors’ gun, and feel the beginning of the end of her new home.
“Ahhh.” Ali’s voice dropped a notch. “That explains so much about you and see, you didn't have to say a word. Don’t worry,” she set the pad aside and moved over, crawling onto the bed as she did so, “your secrets, Jennifer Martin, are completely safe with me.”
“Even the ones I can’t tell you?”
“Especially those.” Ali kissed her again.
TBC…
Chapter Two: Number 35
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Law and Order: SVU
Pairing: Alex/OFC; discussion of Alex/Olivia
Rating: I rate all my series as Adult because I never know when the sex will be had.
A/N: (1) Never fear. The final chapter of Angel Seeker is coming. This story just took control and would not let me go! (2) As with all my stuff, it takes place in the same fanverse I have created over at vega_voices. This particular series answers the question: what happened after the Connors Trial.
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns all, but Alejandra Ramos. But since she’s been dropped into this series, I make no money off of her.
Summary: For a moment, the world spun around her. For just a moment, she allowed herself to picture her apartment overlooking Central Park and waking up next to Olivia and arguing a case in front of Judge Petrovsky. For just a moment, she dreamed of going home. But there was someone else they had to wait for.
And as you pray in the darkness
For wings to set you free
You are bound to your silent legacy
~From Silent Legacy (Melissa Etheridge)
***
“And this is the main room,” Meridee said with a smile. “Teachers use it as a lounge and prep area. We don’t have enough space to all have our own offices, but you can grab that desk over there in the corner. Once a week, the teachers that the non-profit hired meet here as well.”
“There are five of us, right?” Alex dropped her backpack onto the battered desk and chuckled. It was like being a rookie ADA all over again. Cramped quarters, no privacy, noise and chaos. It actually felt good.
“Yes.”
“And how many teachers total at the school?”
“Twenty.” Meridee paused. “You have to understand something, Jennifer. The kids at this school, they’re going to give you a lot of crap. The only thing worse than a white chick coming onto the reservation to teach us about a history that’s been stolen from us is one of us running away from the res and not coming back.”
“Okay.” Alex nodded. “I think I can handle it. The only thing that kids from rural areas hate more than democrats are smart-mouth women who come in and try to teach them anything that isn’t related to the bible.”
Meridee laughed. “All right. Good luck. Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom.”
Failing schools were nothing new to Alex. She’d combed her way through the rubble of New York’s public school system to dance with guidance counselors who abused their students and teachers raped by the principals. She’d seen roaches in cafeterias and been in classrooms when the ceilings fell. But even still, when she stepped into the battered room that was to be where she taught history to a desperate group of teenagers whose great-grandparents had long since given up hope, she realized the sum of her experiences hadn’t prepared her for what she was now facing. Her mother would be so proud, to see her standing here, doing “Good work.” Her father would be horrified. Alexandra Cabot, the golden daughter of the Cabot family, heir to the family fortune, living on a reservation. The very notion made her laugh and need to cry at the same time. She missed him. So much. Had the Marshals told him anything this time?
“Don’t ever expect to have a full complement of kids in your class. And remember something,” Meridee shrugged, “these kids won’t like you.”
“Well, we have to start somewhere, don’t we?”
“Why’d you take this job, Jennifer? I’m sure Utah has plenty of rural areas that need help.”
“I just … it felt right, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why’d you come back? You have your master’s degree. I’m sure you could have found work anywhere.”
Meridee smiled. “It just felt right, you know. After all, someone with our skin color has to make something of I come from.”
Alex smiled sympathetically.
“I’ll let you get set up.”
***
With a hiss, Alex pulled her t-shirt over her head, wincing as the soft cotton rasped against her dry, painful skin. All the sunscreen in the world couldn’t protect her from the glare of the Arizona sun, and it felt like the sun could find her even through her clothes and every day she was that much more burned. The aloe cream she’d picked up on her last trip up to Wal-Mart had done her little good and seemed only to oil her up rather than cool her down. Carefully, she slid her bra off her shoulders and pulled on a light tank top. With careful movements she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and moved into the kitchen, seeking out the last bottle of water in her fridge. Ali kept hounding her to get one of the pitcher filters and with the money she was spending on bottled water, she was starting to think the other woman was right.
Between the sunburn and her students, she was exhausted. Meridee had been more than accurate in her assessment of their attitudes toward her. The ones that weren’t outright angry to see a history class taught by a white woman had been cold and distant. Starting tomorrow, she needed to reassess how she worked with them. What she was trying wasn’t working. It didn’t help that she had no experience teaching teenagers. The pre-law government classes she’d taught as a third year law student at Harvard had been to auditoriums full of eager students who wanted to go forth and prosper. The torpor of the students, especially the seniors, who came through her door every day depressed her. One student in particular, Carlos Jackson, who spent his days glaring at her from behind his long hair, broke her heart. He was so smart, his arguments so impassioned, but he’d already given up.
What’s the point, teach? What, I go up to the University and I spend four years and the government’s money to get spit at and stare at white kids who live in a land my ancestors fought for? Fuck that.
Alex sighed. She had papers to grade.
A knock on the door startled her and she sighed, calling out for whoever it was to come in. Her handler glared at her as he did. “Jennifer,” Agent Johnson shook his head, “you can’t just do that. You never know who is on the other side of the door.”
“You’re the one who told me no one would find me.” She sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine. You’re right. What do you want?”
“How are things are going.”
“It’s fine. I’m good.” Alex collapsed onto the couch and sneezed as dust rose around her. “Sunburned but okay.”
“Watch yourself, Jenny.” Johnson warned. “Don’t get too close to your people.”
“You wanted to keep me separated from the general population, you should have moved me back to Wisconsin. You sure as hell didn’t do your research on the community down here.”
“You’re white. We didn’t think you’d assimilate like you seem to have. Usually they shun you guys.”
“The white people shun them and you know it.”
“Just watch yourself.”
“I’m not moving again.”
“Right now, you don’t have to. Anyway, I have some news for you.”
“What?”
“Ireland has begun the extradition process for Liam Connors.”
For a moment, the world spun around her. For just a moment, she allowed herself to picture her apartment overlooking Central Park and waking up next to Olivia and arguing a case in front of Judge Petrovsky. For just a moment, she dreamed of going home. But there was someone else they had to wait for.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that some Latin American country we have an extradition treaty with wants Velez?”
“Yes.”
“Jenny!”
Johnson turned quickly to the door but Alex waved him down. “Come on in, Ali.” The other woman came through the door and froze seeing the suit. “Don’t worry, Ali. Agent Johnson was just leaving. He just came by to make sure I was adjusting to being down here.”
“She’s fine, Agent Johnson,” the disgust rolled off Ali’s tongue. “So why don’t you head back to your little office and look for ways to waste the government’s money.”
Only after Johnson rolled his eyes and headed out did Alex let the laughter she’d been suppressing show. “Sorry about that.”
“What? Is he making sure you aren’t getting too close to the natives?”
“Something like that.” Alex shook off the visit. “So what brings you by?”
“Artists block.”
“Really? Thought that was just a writer thing.”
“Oh no. So I thought I’d come by and say hi and maybe drag you out into the dust for a bit of a walk, but you look like you went one on one with a red paint gun so a walk might have to wait until after the sun goes down.”
“I’m a little pale for this climate.”
“I’ll say. You got any aloe?”
“Just some cream.”
“No, the real stuff. Comes out of a plant.”
“No.”
“Give me twenty minutes. I’ll be right back.”
***
Liv,
How I wish I had the words to describe the sunsets I see here. I’ve taken to walking the two miles from the school to my house so that I can enjoy the skies and the way the blues contrast with the red of the rock.
I’ve made a friend. Her name is Ali; she’s an artist, I think I mentioned her in a letter before. Last weekend she picked me up after school and we piled into her beat up old Ford and drove North and spent the weekend in Moab. There’s a rest stop outside of the city, up on top of the canyon, and you can rent a cabin for a weekend - she’d piled sleeping bags and supplies into the truck and we roughed it. It was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that and I have to say, I enjoyed it. We got dirty and she told me ancient stories about the land; I’m sure many of them were completely made up to entertain the ignorant white girl, but we had fun and I know that she wasn’t making fun of me. For a while, I was able to forget about witness protection and New York and just enjoyed living and listening. One night, we went out into the middle of nowhere to see the stars. It was a whole other universe right there in front of me. That night I cried. That night I missed you, I wanted to hold you and share the skies with you. Ali held me though.
Will you hate me if I tell you that I kissed her? It didn’t go beyond that, I wasn’t ready for it and she deserves more than my desperation. I’d have been using her as a replacement, a surrogate, and she is better than that.
She’s taught me good ways to keep from burning. My first few weeks here I was as red as a lobster.
Now it has developed into a healthy tan. Tonight, Ali is teaching me to properly use corn tortillas in a recipe.
Will you hate me if I tell you that I am falling for her? I feel as if I am betraying you, betraying promises we made to each other when I was back in New York for the Connors trial. I love you, Olivia. That is never going to change. I’m just wondering if our time hasn’t passed. Maybe it’s too late …
Quickly, Alex signed her name and numbered the letter. Number 35. The journal went into a new location, tucked under the mattress (how obvious could she be but there were so few hiding places in the house.) Her compulsive tendencies made her step back and smooth the colorful, handmade quilt she’d picked up from one of the bodegas nearby down over her bed.
She had to hurry. Ali was expecting her. Quickly, she pulled her sunglasses from her purse and slid into the tennis shoes she kept by the door. Her keys went into her pocket, her cammo green hat settled on her head, and she walked up the mile to Ali’s comfortable home.
“Hey …”
“Evening.” Ali’s bright face smiled at her from the kitchen. “I’ve got some cold water in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
“Thanks.” Alex poured a glass from the filtered pitcher and leaned against the counter. “So what is tonight’s lesson?”
“The right way to feed yourself.” Ali smiled and handed her a piece of tomato. “How were classes today?”
“Better. I finally got through to Carlos. He’s stopped mouthing off every time I bring up the English settlers landing. I saw him out on the playground today - I didn’t realize he was so good at basketball. That three point shot could get him a scholarship anywhere in the country.”
“It would help if the recruiters came out here. The stories have it that the Indians were playing basketball long before Naismith ever picked up a ball, but of course the colleges don’t want to put us on the court. They just … well, who knows. Maybe they’ll eventually move off the ghettos and come onto the reservations. But, as for Carlos, he has a lot of anger, as you know. His father was a construction worker and spent a lot of time off the res, helping to build the tourist resorts. Got jumped by a group of white kids one night and they beat him to death.”
“Let me guess, the State declined to press charges?”
“No, they pressed them, but the kids got off with slaps on the wrist. Lawyers, go figure.”
Alex had to suppress a smile. “Depends on the lawyer and the judge.”
“Sound like you know more than you are admitting.”
“I dated a cop. You can’t help but learn some of the process.” Alex tilted her head. “What can I do? You brought me here to teach me and I’m standing here chatting.”
“Cooking is as much about chatting as it is cooking. But, since you brought it up, put some oil in that pan and turn it on low. The tortillas are in the crisper in the fridge.”
“What, you aren’t teaching me how to make them?”
“Oh, that’s the next lesson. First, you have to learn how to cook them.”
Obeying her instructor, Alex moved back to the fridge and pulled the bag of corn tortillas from the drawer.
“Take out two.”
Again, following instructions, Alex set the skillet as Ali instructed and dropped the tortillas onto the heated metal. Ali hovered behind her, pointing out when to turn the crisping corn and helping to drop the cheese and vegetables onto the shells as they hardened.
Slowly, Ali came closer, her hands resting on Alex’s hips as they listened to the hiss and pop of the oil and the heat and the crisping of the vegetables.
In the quiet of the kitchen, Alex could have sworn she heard the sun set and she realized she was leaning back against Ali and the other woman’s arms were completely wrapped around her waist. Slowly, she let the air out of her lungs and tilted her head just slightly. “I used to set my stove on fire.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Ali said, the teasing tone in her voice sliding away as she too turned her head, just slightly. They stared at each other for a long moment before Ali pulled back. “Now come on, put those onto two plates and I’ll dish out the extra veggies.”
Alex shivered at the tone in Ali’s voice. Taking a risk she wasn’t sure if she was ready to take, she reached over Ali’s arm for another slice of tomato. Long fingers caught and linked in hers and with a smile, Ali turned and stepped even closer to Alex.
“And sometimes,” Ali said, “cooking is about knowing when to stop talking.”
Alex met the kiss halfway.
***
“So why did you run?” Ali was curled into the papasan chair in the corner of the small bedroom, a t-shirt hanging on her slender body, a sketch pad in her hands. The window was open, allowing the light breeze that had picked up once the night air had settled over the desert. Outside, the desert came to life as animals crawled from their shelter to scurry about.
From her position on the bed, Alex watched the other woman’s fingers as they guided the pencil across the paper and couldn’t help but wonder what art was emerging. With a sigh, she propped her head in her hand and shrugged, feeling the sheet that covered her loosen slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Let’s see if I can guess. You’re a lesbian school teacher who likes to work in rural areas and you used to date a cop and the two of you were outed in some way that shocked the town and brought shame to everyone. I’m surprised the Mormons up there didn’t hang you from the Temple spires as an example.”
“Well, me too, but that wasn’t why I left.”
“Was Olivia killed in the line of duty? That happens a lot down in this area.”
“No.”
“You going to keep making me play twenty questions with your past?”
Alex couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her throat. The last time she’d touched Olivia, they’d promised to let each other go, even though the promises had been empty. What was she doing here, with Ali, falling for Ali? How could she betray Olivia like this? She needed to leave, to run off down the road and crawl into her bed and write and write and dial the only number she’d ever dialed on the disposable cell phone she’d picked up; the one the feds didn’t know she had. Instead, she wiped a stray tear away and stared out the window. “It couldn’t work out. We both wanted it to, but our lives were heading in different directions. We scared each other I think.”
“The best love in the world is frightening. So where is she now? Do you know?”
“She uh … got a job offer in New York.”
“And you didn’t follow her?” Ali scoffed. “Now I know you’re lying to me, Jennifer, and that isn’t nice to do right after you’ve made love to another person. So tell me the truth. You witnessed some horrible crime and got dumped into witness protection?”
For the second time in a day, Alex felt the room spin. She could feel her heart racing and her blood pounded in her ears and she knew she needed to respond but she could only stare straight ahead, down the barrel of Connors’ gun, and feel the beginning of the end of her new home.
“Ahhh.” Ali’s voice dropped a notch. “That explains so much about you and see, you didn't have to say a word. Don’t worry,” she set the pad aside and moved over, crawling onto the bed as she did so, “your secrets, Jennifer Martin, are completely safe with me.”
“Even the ones I can’t tell you?”
“Especially those.” Ali kissed her again.
TBC…