Page 26

Prudence had noticed the beanie first. Or at least let Lark know she noticed it. A long look, a sly smile—a smirk really—and a “Good for you” praise were enough to make Lark turn beet red. Honestly, all she did these days on the island was smile, swoon, and blush. She’d be embarrassed if she wasn’t so happy.

Prudence and her immediate, gentle acceptance of Lark, without pushing or asking questions, was another surprise. It had been ages since she’d had a friend. And could one really call a ghost walking the bayou swamps a friend? For some reason, Lark had the very distinct idea that Prudence and the entire Crowhart family would not find her past ghostly association at all surprising or all that concerning.

Still, Lark kept her childhood under lock and key despite spending more time lingering in the back of Book Nest after hours. Her entire present existence on Dragons was so radically different from everything she had ever known, and it was made possible by women.

She might’ve been the oldest girl child in her family, and her mother had sisters, not to mention grand-aunts, and yet nothing in her life had been similar to the sheer intense companionship the Crowhart women had shown her.

The conversations with Victoria. The shared moment she had been allowed to witness between the sisters. The friendship, the genuine love, the teasing, the trust. And above all, the openness. The things the Crowharts discussed openly… Phew, they made Lark hot just thinking about… well, everything. The words they used. The intimacies. It was something her own mother would call demonic. She and her father would make Lark go down on her knees and pray for days with no food or water.

And then there was Seren, and all the questions about her mere existence and that little soft woolly hat elicited in Lark.

Standing in the back room of Book Nest, Lark watched as Prudence closed the shop door and turned the sign, then took a deep breath, summoning all her bravery.

“How did you know…” Lark began, and Prudence lifted her gentle gray eyes, curious and watching her intently. Lark almost lost her nerve. Then she remembered how Seren’s cheek had felt under her lips, skin silky and precious, and simply blurted her question.

“How did you know you liked Rhiannon? Like… liked her.”

Prudence did not laugh. Prudence did not mock her. Prudence did not slap her or make a disgusted face. Not that any of those options were actual possibilities. Not outside of Lark’s head, where all the people from her previous life would’ve hurt her for even entertaining any such thoughts.

No, Prudence smiled dreamily and motioned for Lark to come out to the main floor of the shop and sit by the fire still dancing in the fireplace. Patches the Possum snuffled closer, climbing onto her mistress’s lap.

“Rhiannon was inevitable, Lark. A force of nature. But are you asking about me liking Rhiannon in particular, because, I mean, just look at her…” Prudence laughed now, and Lark had to give it to her. Rhiannon Crowhart, with her hair and voice and eyes and that face and those hands and those long legs… Not to mention that every time Lark interacted with the middle Crowhart, she would be charm personified and had a sharp, brilliant mind that Lark admired. She was a full package. Yeah, Lark could see how there was really no way Prudence could’ve escaped Rhiannon.

“Or are you asking about, well, women?” Prudence’s tone was careful. Not a single strain of teasing or mocking in it. Just helpfulness. Lark decided that bravery had gotten her this far, and so she might as well push forward.

“Yes, women. I have never… I only have… With men. A man.” Lark felt her hands go numb at the admission. Prudence’s fingers found hers and squeezed reassuringly. She kept silent and waited for Lark to speak. “He… Doesn’t matter. I didn’t love him… It doesn’t matter.”

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. In the ensuing silence, Patches made some more snuffling noises, and the sleek black cat, Boleyn, twirled herself around Lark’s ankles.

Prudence patted her hand, and her voice was steady and calm when she eventually spoke.

“I had a boyfriend in high school. The sex was fine. It was fine, and I didn’t know better. A few short flings in college that also left me kind of, shall we say, unimpressed. And then I had a girlfriend here on the island. A long-term one. Long and unhappy term, I must add.” Lark lifted her eyes in surprise. She and Rhiannon seemed to have been made for each other.

“Yep. And the sex was again fine, I suppose. And then there was Rhiannon, and everything became so much more. So much better. Oh, what an inadequate word that one is.” Prudence laughed again, and Lark smiled along with her. The pretty, heart-shaped face was alight with tenderness and affection. And happiness. Lark felt the beauty of it touch her. It was impossible not to be affected when so much love was in the room with you.

“I suppose I am as suited as anyone to tell you about bisexuality. People always ask me how I knew.” Prudence gestured at herself. “Well, for me, it was knowing that what I felt for boys was exactly the same as what I felt for girls. And that is why I never questioned it. Not really. It was just who I was and how I felt. A boy made me blush exactly the same way a girl did, so that was that. Rhiannon is different, not because she is a woman, Lark. She is different because I love her. It’s that simple.”

Lark sucked on her lower lip and said nothing as she sat in the armchair, the cat now in her lap, making biscuits smoothly. Something told her she was not like Prudence. Not bisexual. She had never looked at a man and thought… And then with him… Darn it. Lark found her own inability to put into words what she had been through with him embarrassing and painful.

Still, growing up, she had known that she was destined for a man. Not a boy. A man. And was punished if she dared to glance at anyone.

She remembered when the neighbor’s boy forced a kiss on her after church. Her mother had seen. And her mother unleashed her wrath on her. She hadn’t been able to walk for the entire Sunday. Couldn’t sit for days. She was fourteen, and she was the only one punished. For “enticing” him. For “flaunting” herself. For “not saving” herself for her intended.

Pain aside, embarrassment aside, punishment aside, Lark felt nothing. And she felt nothing with him, except all of the above-mentioned asides. Pain, embarrassment, and punishment. So, no, Lark did not think she was like Prudence about boys—or men, for that matter.

But when Prudence gently pointed to a particular section in the shop, Lark reached out to the closest book.

Lesbian Sex For Dummies.

Prudence did not bat an eye. She also did not take Lark’s money. Lark was hot and red and sweating as she exited the Book Nest that evening. The book burned a hole in her backpack. And it felt like the biggest treasure. She read it under the covers with a small book light. She didn’t know why she was hiding. By the time she turned the last page, she was even hotter. And even more curious.

Questions upon questions popped into her head, and Lark reached for the beanie on the chair next to her, inhaled the barely-there scent of tumultuous ocean, and she knew she’d be back to Book Nest, to the Sexual Education section, and this time she’d make Prudence take her money. And maybe answer some of her questions.

Weeks passed. Lark’s life expanded in ways that she could not quite believe. Her days were full of work. Her nights were full of books and dreams.

The island rose in front of her full of opportunities. She pulled the beanie lower and looked up as she climbed the rocky hill on foot toward the one such opportunity that brought her here in the first place. Her car was still in a heap at the pier. Henderson was going to pay for it, and there was nothing else to do but walk and wait. And so she did.

She didn’t miss it if she was honest with herself. Crow’s Nest was small, a walkable living dream, and moreover, the beat-up car was the symbol of her previous life, a constant reminder. A life where she needed to get out of town quickly, on a hunch, on a nightmare, or simply on a memory that she could not suppress.