Band of Gold - Freda Payne; Leather and Lace - Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

Poems in this chapter are by Anne Sexton and e.e. cummings.

Jude felt the need to clean his refrigerator. Bothered by the amount of possible waste, she crafted a large pot of soup. Set it to cooking that afternoon. For the duration of the day, they were quiet. Their earlier conflagration had been more than enough to dull their tongues. In fact it had quite exhausted Timothy. He found himself dozing on the couch while a documentary about flamingos provided some distraction.

Loud screeching - flamingo mating cries - woke him suddenly. He blinked, and caught Jude staring at him quite openly. It seemed she had been for some time. "Sorry," he murmured. "I don't usually -"

"Yar as handsome as you always were."

He swallowed. Neither smiled. "I have not changed, I believe."

"Hm." Her stare didn't falter.

"You have changed." He said quietly. She raised a brow. "Perhaps I simply took it for granted but...I think you are more beautiful now than I can recall."

She shrugged, finally looking back to the television. "Guess death becomes me." He looked back to the program, as well. "Does anything come on yar TV that doesn't involve exotic animals?" Jude asked.

"I don't think so." He scowled. "But I haven't actually changed the channel."

"Oh."

Her hair had dried naturally into a thick mane. She brushed it while flamingos paraded. Plaited the strands into loose braids which she tucked into each other somehow. To Timothy, her hair manipulations were far more fascinating than the flamingos. He wondered how she tolerated his staring, then remembered how many men ogled her on a nightly basis.

"Mind if I pick through yar books?"

"Not at all." She rifled in the stack on the coffee table. "Mostly poetry, I'm afraid."

"It's been a long time since I read poetry." She settled on the Anne Sexton. He gestured for the e.e. Cummings, and they read in contented silence.

Until: "Listen to this." Jude cleared her throat and read.

"Come, my beloved,

consider the lilies.

We are of little faith.

We talk too much.

Put your mouthful of words away

and come with me to watch

the lilies open in such a field,

growing there like yachts,

slowly steering their petals

without nurses or clocks.

Let us consider the view:

a house where white clouds

decorate the muddy halls.

Oh, put away your good words

and your bad words. Spit out

your words like stones!

Come here! Come here!

Come eat my pleasant fruits."

She chuckled, turning the page. "Eat my pleasant fruits," she repeated.

He smiled. "I've got even better." He read.

"the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the church's protestant blessings
daughters, unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things-
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
....the Cambridge ladies do not care,above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

"Goddamn angry candy." She shook her head sadly. "Timothy."

"Yes, Judy?"

"Yar gonna have to get some different reading material."

He nodded. "Tomorrow." An outing, then. With Judy. He was cautiously hopeful.

They ate Jude's soup. It was delicious, comforting. Over dinner, they chatted quietly. Not of their past. This, they avoided. Timothy broke off a piece of French loaf and dipped it in his soup. "How did you and Valerie become such close friends?"

Jude shrugged. "When I came ta work for Hathaway, she was workin' the door. She just kinda took ta me, I guess. She could tell I was a mess. Really took care of me."

"She is quite protective."

"You noticed." Jude grinned. "That's my fault, though. I got myself into a couple scrapes here and there and she...helped me out. But I think now she worries too much."

"She um...she told me about what happened with Moseley."

"Oh." Jude blushed a little. "That was not my fault, I assure you."

"No, I suspect not." His lip curled a little. "What an arsehole."

"I'm gonna keep a tally of yar curses from now on."

"It's important to have goals."

She chuckled, pushing a carrot around in her bowl. "You um...gonna come to the club Thursday?"

He considered. "If...you would like me to."

She considered, as well. "I think I would."

"Planning to musically emasculate me again?"

"I hardly emasculated you."

"You were quite vehement."

"You were already emasculated."

"Fair enough." He sighed. "I don't wish to intrude. After all, it is your work. I suppose I don't want anyone to have the wrong impression."

The expression on her face bordered on bristled. "What impression is that, exactly?"

"That you have a...an...a man who..." He really struggled. "That I am a - or that is to say your -"

"Boyfriend?" Her brow quirked.

He rolled his eyes. "That's a rather provincial term."

"It's a rather provincial profession I'm in." She mocked him. "Why wouldn't you want them to think something like that?" Her chin rested on her hand and she gazed expectantly at him. "Would you be embarrassed?"

"Certainly not." He found her challenging. Couldn't say he enjoyed the challenge, but he didn't hate it, either. "I imagine quite a bit of your success as a singer stems from the fact your audience imagines you...available."

"Ah!" She pointed at him. "So you think having a boyfriend would make me unavailable?"

He tried not to seem aghast. "There are boundaries in relationships among people that should be respected by outside parties."

She could not contain a burst of laughter. "You think the rowdy, horny masses are gonna tip me less if they think my boyfriend is at the bar?"

"They should!"

"Timothy. This is Limbo. Those souls had no respect befar death, so why should they have any after it? I'm just some bimbo with tits and hips to them."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"You happen to have very nice legs, as well."

She was entirely taken aback by his sudden, disarming humor. Despite his delivery being straight-faced. "Yar funny sometimes, you know that?"

"I have my moments." He spread his hands. "Jude. Honestly. I love to hear you sing. You've a powerful, tremendous voice. And yes, your stage presence is intoxicating. If you are not discomforted by my presence, then yes, I would like to come back to Hathaway's and see our set."

Her lips pursed. "Yeah, maybe not yet."

He threw up his hands. "Then why did you -"

"I just wanted to hear you say I had a nice voice!"

A deep groan. "I suspect you can be quite an infuriating woman at times."

"No. Just furious." She grinned. "D'ya really think I have nice legs?" He pushed away from the table, collected their bowls, refusing to let her rile him. "I mean...you were pretty keen to feel 'em in the car that night, so -"

"I was in an altered state." He began washing the dishes.

"Of course you were."

"And so were you."

She was quiet for a while, watching him clean. Lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I kinda wish you hadn't stopped that night."

Slowly, he dried his hands, contemplating her statement. "I'm not certain where we would be at this point if I'd..." He leaned on the back of his chair, facing her. "I want more than that, Jude. For both of us."

"Right." She turned away to exhale a thick plume of smoke. "Peace, forgiveness and love."

"Exactly."

She shrugged. Smirked. "Fucking's easier." When he pushed away from his chair, frustrated, she held back a laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'd like to prove to you - and to myself, Jude - that I have the capacity to be a better man."

"I always wanted you." She confessed. "I told ya that before. And you admitted that those thoughts went both ways. So if you were such a goddamn deviant at Briarcliff, why didn't ya just take me then?"

"Because it was more than that, Jude!" He snapped. Regretted snapping. Sighed. "It's difficult to explain."

"Try."

"I'd never had sex. It was...a concept to me. Did I...feel arousal? Yes. Did I know what to do with it? No. What I did understand - fully - was power." He sat, at terms with yet another reckoning. "You made me feel powerful. The way you looked at me, spoke to me. The worship I saw in your eyes... It was addictive. And intoxicating." He shrugged. "I suppose in some way I translated it...to sexual fantasy. I imagined -" But he stopped abruptly. Not keen on revealing certain aspects of his former psyche.

He should have known Jude would not let him off so easily. She leaned toward him with relish. "What did you imagine, Timothy?"

"It's not important."

"Oh, I find it very important. And captivating." She tisked. "Tell ya what. I'll go first, shall I?"

He blinked. "You mean -"

"I always liked imagining you as this sort of...novice. Ta sex. Which I suppose wasn't far from reality. And that you would be so curious. And so sweet." A rueful laugh. "It was always this culmination of genuine love, ya know? In my little bed or on the dinner table or...on my desk. Yar desk. Wherevah. It was just...tender. Passionate. Forbidden. Which I think was a big part of the attraction."

A hot flush crept up his neck. One of arousal at her words, but more of shame at his past. "I'm sorry, Jude."

"Because it wouldn't evah have been that way, would it?" She asked softly, sadly. She knew his answer by his pained expression. "Don't suppose you were a novice in yar imaginings, were ya?"

"No, Jude," he confessed in a whisper.

"Were ya sweet ta me?"

He swallowed thickly. "Not particularly."

"Was I on top at least? Once or twice?"

"No." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I controlled you. You obeyed me."

"And if I didn't obey you?"

"That never happened."

"I see." His eyes opened when she rose. He watched her fetch her cigarettes. "You know what really hurts about this?" He accepted the cigarette she offered, listened to her. "I was so fucking far gone then...that I woulda let ya control me. I did obey you, Timothy. To my own detriment. Christ, when I imagine what I woulda done far you, it's worse than anything I actually did far you." She shook her head, laughing bitterly.

"You were a better person than me."

"No, I don't think that's true," she argued. "I just think our foibles...were fine foils far each other." She took a long, shuddering breath. "I have ta acknowledge...that you were a victim, too. In many ways. You were manipulated, too. You were lied to. The devil had his way with you, too." She considered. "And I'm sorry far all that." She tamped out her cigarette early.

"There was a significant difference between us, Jude: You sought to vanquish the devil, while in many ways - I was in league with him."

She smirked. "I guess we both got to know the fucker pretty well, huh?"

"We did." He conceded.

"I'm tired." Her sudden announcement was accompanied by a yawn.

"You should go to bed." He wondered how long this would go on - the constant revelations. The bare-laying of damaged souls. The search for redemption, for commonality between them. Because it was ultimately exhausting.

"Timothy. I really don't mind sleeping on the couch at all. I've -"

"Jude. Take the bed." He insisted finality, stretching. His neck popped when he rose. "I'm going to change. Then..." A gesture. "It's all yours."

She fluffed his pillow while he was in the bathroom. He emerged in pajamas to find his couch bed beefed up with blankets. Jude had put away the soup. Stood in the bedroom door. "I'll see ya in the morning."

He nodded, leaning against the couch. "We'll have an outing."

"Sounds nice." The house was dim, now - conducive to softer truths. "Timothy?"

"Yes?"

The doorframe made her small somehow. Or perhaps it was the way she stood with her arms crossed, one bare foot scratching at the other. "Did ya ever think of us in Rome?"

His nostrils flared. "I did."

She bit her lip. "What were those dreams like?"

"Sordid." He hated to admit.

"Hm." She retreated into the bedroom's darkness. "That's funny. So were mine." The door closed like the period on the end of her sentence and he might have tasted tears in his throat.

He fell asleep that night watching a program about elephants. And woke to an awkward morning. He had to pee. Badly. But the bedroom door was closed and he imagined Jude was still asleep. He hesitated to sneak in and wake her. Considered taking his business onto the porch or the back deck, but...neighbors. There was always the kitchen sink...

He was seriously debating the debasement of organizing kitchen sink urination when the bedroom door opened. He sprang up on the couch to see Jude standing over him. "Oh. You're awake," she murmured. "Good morning."

"Yes. Morning." He darted into the bathroom, hissed at the freezing tile.

She was making coffee when he emerged, teeth no longer floating. "You shoulda just come in there." She shrugged. "I'm a pretty heavy sleeper. Plus, it's not like I was butt naked or anything." And he really wished she wouldn't say things like that. "Besides, I shoulda left that door open far the stove heat. It felt like a goddamn meat locker in there when I woke up. You coulda cut glass with my nipples, I swear ta Christ." She looked back at him, a sizing glance. "Sit down. I'm making breakfast. Eggs?"

He could only imagine what he was seeing - experiencing - was the purest form of Judy. Hair rumpled from restless sleep. A thick cotton robe cinched tightly over who knew what. Eyes still a little drowsy. Morning moody Judy. With nipples that could cut glass. "Eggs sound delightful." She grunted in response, poured two coffees from his percolator. She was an expert egg flipper. And her bacon was crispy.

But she was not a morning person. These were things he would have to learn the hard way.

"Did you sleep well?"

She grunted in response. A half shrug. "Too quiet. I'm not used to it."

"Ah." He found her grumpiness almost amusing. Pushed his luck. "Perhaps...we could install another small stereo for you."

Her gaze was withering. "Or I could just get the fuck used to it." He nodded conciliatorily. She cleared her throat, attempting some semblance of humanity. "But uh...how did you sleep?"

"I couldn't." He took the honest route. "I watched a program on elephants."

"Oh. Well." She considered a moment, then gave her own honesty. "Yeah. I really didn't sleep, either. Shoulda joined you and the elephants."

"You are welcome to do so anytime." He sipped his coffee, hiding a smirk. "Seeing that you will not be...butt naked."

Her gape said he'd surprised her again. But her eyes narrowed. "You wish."

"Perhaps." At her sigh, he changed the subject. "Also perhaps we should arrange an extra heater today. For your room."

She shook her head. "Not necessary. I think leaving the door open will benefit us both. In case you need - you know - "

"The loo."

She snickered. "Yeah. The loo."

They finished breakfast companionably. "Are you still game for an outing this morning?"

"Sounds good. I need some things."

"Excellent. I'll shower?"

She waved him toward the bedroom. "I'll try to control my baser desires ta join ya."

He really really wished she wouldn't say things like that.

He dressed in the bathroom and when he emerged, he found Jude sitting on the edge of the bed, fishtail skirt hiked high over one thigh. She was snapping a black garter onto a nude stocking. Met his stare challengingly when she finished. "Ready?"

"Um..."

She brushed past him, heels clicking, to primp her hair before the bathroom mirror. "Ya need a bigger mirror. I can't tell if my seams are straight."

"Seams?" He felt like his were unraveling.

"Yeah. Are they?" Satisfied with her coif, she turned, extending a lean leg.

"Ah." Seams. His eyes followed the thick silk cord up the back of each calf. Ahem. "Yes, they seem straight."

"Thanks." Briskly, she brushed past him again. "Okay. Let's go."

His groin ached.

It was cold and still out. They could see their breath. And in the downtown buildings, the wind picked up briskly. At Pimm's - the furniture store - he acquired two more chairs. Because...he had friends now. And a full length mirror. Because...he had seams now. Deliveries arranged, they made way to the bookstore. His favorite shop.

Mrs. Lundt seemed both pleased and surprised to see him arrive with a guest. Her smile was wide and bright. And when Jude was browsing, the proprietor shuffled over. "Why, Timothy!" She whispered. "What a lovely lady you've brought in today."

He blushed. "Yes, indeed."

"Is she your...sister? Or..."

"Somewhat." He faltered. "No. She is my...friend. Staying with me for a while."

"Ohhhhh." Her 'oh' was far too suggestive. "I see." She winked. "You'll find no judgment here, son. I was starting to think you were a poof."

He blushed even harder. "No!"

"No what?" Jude slipped up out of nowhere.

"Nothing." Timothy and Mrs. Lundt spoke in tandem. He took in the books in Jude's hands. "You found something interesting."

"A couple things." Jude smirked. "There's another art book back there with some more naked blondes in it far ya."

"I think we're done here." He said pointedly to Mrs. Lundt.

In Woolworth's he addressed the issue of her teasing. "You're tormenting me."

"Me?" She asked so innocently, perusing spooled thread. "I don't know what yar talkin' about."

"Seams, Jude? Naked blondes? I feel as if you are purposefully antagonizing me."

"You like it." She passed him a few spools of thread. "Hold these. I need a thimble." She began digging through a box.

His forehead creased in thought. He did rather like it. Her teasing. It was certainly an improvement on her hatred. And there was something quite promising in the tease...some flirtation.

Thimble found, she took her thread back and his elbow. "Come on. Let's get a soda." There was a fountain soda in the department store. A low red formica counter greeted them and Jude ordered two root beer floats. "Sit down." She patted the stool beside her. When he sat, a kitten heel brushed his pant leg. "Listen," she said. "I can't be formal, Timothy. I'm past that. And so are you. We've made it pretty clear what our intentions are, so we can be ourselves, right?"

Floats appeared. He watched her immediately dip a finger into the whipped cream. The violet dress brought out the deep brown of her eyes. "Have we?"

"Have we what?" Her finger wasn't enough. She attacked the whipped cream from above, dallying with her straw.

"Have we made our intentions clear?" He reached for her face, flicked a spot of cream from beside her mouth and licked his finger.

"You've been pretty clear." She seemed unfazed by the grazing contact. "You need me ta fargive ya far being a total asshat. You want peace and love and..." She shrugged. "I don't know after that."

"And you?"

"I told you. I'm trying to fargive you."

He nodded. "Fair enough."

"Timothy?"

"Hm?" The float was delicious.

"What do you want?" She asked quietly. "I mean...you saying you loved me once... That doesn't mean much in the present, does it?"

He could almost imagine a confessional lattice between them. A penetrable wall she'd erected. He looked through the cracks. "I would like to love you again. I would like you to let me."

Her lips worked. "And then what? Stuck up each others' asses far all eternity in Purgatory? Or...do we move on? Part ways?"

"I don't know." He was honest. "Mary Eunice hasn't been exactly clear on that point."

"I'd love to see her."

"I know. But...she's quite unpredictable,"

A soft laugh. "Not like the Eunice I used ta know."

"No." He smiled. "Nothing like that Eunice." He cleared his throat. "So. We have two new chairs. Shall we invite Val and Missy to dinner?"

"I've nevah once sat at the same table with Missy. That would be a historic event."

"Val has been a friend to me. I appreciate her."

Jude stared at him. "I nevah would have imagined the old Timothy Howard embracing a lesbian bouncer as a friend."

"I'm not the old Timothy Howard."

She squinted now. "I'm starting ta see that."

His float was nearly gone. The conversation was warming. He felt comfortable enough to tease her back...a little. "Was there really another book of naked blondes at Lundt's?"

Her sudden laughter was rich and loud.

They were home in time for their furniture delivery. Installed the mirror in the bedroom and the chairs around the little table. Timothy called the number Val had left for him. She answered briskly. "Yeah?"

"Valerie."

"Nancy? Is that you?" He rolled his eyes. "How's things?"

"Things are quite fine. Jude and I [Jude peered over the edge of her book at him] wanted to invite you and Missy for dinner this evening."

"You musta got you some new chairs."

He blinked, unsettled by his own predictability. "I...I did, actually."

Valerie laughed heartily on the line. "Tim...how's Judy doin?"

He looked at Jude. She lay on the recliner upside down - bare feet at the head and curly head on the footrest. Her stockings - seams still straight - reflected the soft lighting. "She's...fine."

"Lemme talk to her."

"Jude." He gestured with the phone.

She sighed heavily, swinging from her repose to sway into the kitchen. "Hey, Val." He busied himself in the refrigerator, picking ingredients, hearing her one-sided conversation. "Uh-huh...no. No!...Val...NO....well, not yet....I'm readin'...yeah, we watch TV some....No, not porn! Christ, Val...just some mendin'...I dunno. Hold on. Timothy!"

"Hm?" He turned from the stove.

"What's far dinner?"

He looked at the spread before him. "Pork loin, I think. And vegetables. And perhaps macaroni and cheese?"

"Oh, hell that sounds good," she murmured. Then into the phone: "Salty pig meat. You comin'? Uh-huh...well, it'll be interesting. Of course I'll be on my best behavior! Timothy's here ta slap me around." He scowled at her. "Yeah, bye." She replaced the receiver. "They're coming."

"Wonderful." He coughed. "Jude. I would never slap you around."

She came to stand by the stove. "I dunno. We might enjoy the rough stuff." He nearly sliced his finger with a paring knife."Need some help?"

"I would enjoy your help." He handed her a box of pasta, decided music would be enjoyable. Might distract her from making him miserable. "Can you turn on the stereo?"

Jude smirked, leaning into his ear. "Timothy. I can turn anything on."

He had no doubt that was true.

The first few medleys were bluesy. Jude swayed at the stove and Timothy pointedly avoided watching her hips move. More or less. They grated cheese together and rubbed down a pork loin. Cut carrots and mushrooms. They'd started the roast in its Dutch oven when the music kicked up a jauntier tune.

"Oh, I love this song!" Jude sang along, no shame in her strong voice. And when the pasta was boiling, she grabbed his hand. "Dance with me."

"The roast!" But he was grinning, beyond pleased that she was pulling him into a modified swing. He managed to kick the oven door closed before falling into step.

Now that you're gone

All that's left is a band of gold

All that's left of the dreams I hold

Is a band of gold

"You've been practicing!" She smiled.

"I have." He twirled her easily. She felt ample in his grip. Warm. Firm hand keeping time on his shoulder.

"With who?" She asked coyly on an in-swing.

"With the elephants and flamingos," he replied.

And the memories of what love could be

If you were still here with me

You took me from the shelter of my mother, I had never known

Or loved any other

We kissed after taking vows

But that night on our honeymoon

We stayed in separate rooms

A hiss from the stove and Jude slipped over to stir her pasta, barely breaking their contact. He tugged her directly back into a quickstep. "Whooo!" She laughed. And it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard from her lips. Or possibly any lips. Or possibly ever at all.

"That's great and all. But can you cha-cha?"

"And meringue!" He assured her, easily switching up the step. "Although I'm a bit stiff."

"I bet you are." She winked, and he flushed. Again.

I wait in the darkness of my lonely room

Filled with sadness, filled with gloom

Hoping soon

That you'll walk back through that door

And love me like you tried before

The upbeat tune faded into a much slower medley. A man and woman sang together, and momentary awkwardness sprung between the kitchen dancers. Timothy bowed to Jude's whim and smiled softly when she opted to keep dancing - albeit down-tempo.

Is love so fragile

And the heart so hollow

Shatter with words

Impossible to follow

He cleared his throat when she stepped further into his space. Her eyes - downcast first - turned up as if for permission to touch something less fleeting. In answer - in permission - he wrapped his arm loosely around her waist, taking her hand to lead - asking his own permission.

You're saying I'm fragile I try not to be

I search only for something I can't see

I have my own life and I am stronger

Than you know

But I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door

She hummed along. He could feel the vibration in her throat against his shoulder when her chin rested there. He dropped his other hand slowly to her waist when her arms fell on his shoulders, and it occurred to him very suddenly that he was holding Jude. They swayed gently, still near the stove, still near each other. He rested his cheek against her silky hair.

Still I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door

Lovers forever face to face

My city your mountains

Stay with me stay

I need you to love me

I need you today

Give to me your leather

Take from me my lace

Timothy had picked up on the melody and joined her in humming. He found he liked this song. Not certain if it was the song itself, or the moment it engendered that he found so appealing.

You in the moonlight

With your sleepy eyes

Could you ever love a man like me

And you were right

When I walked into your house

I knew I'd never want to leave

Sometimes I'm a strong man

Sometimes cold and scared

And sometimes I cry

But that time I saw you

I knew with you to light my nights

Somehow I'd get by

They knew the chorus now. And he surprised himself by softly singing along with her. She was surprised, too - he could tell by the upturn of her eyes. The lilting, lovely smile when she pulled back to look at him.

Lovers forever face to face

My city your mountains

Stay with me stay

I need you to love me

I need you today

Give to me your leather

Take from me my lace

"Whaddaya know?" She asked quietly.

"What do I know?" He replied. Her warm breath was so close he felt it on his lips.

"You've got a nice voice."

"Not really." He'd not loosened his hold on her waist. "It just sounds nice because of yours."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Her breath was even warmer. Even closer.

"Will it?" He whispered. And now she was so close. Or he was closer. Either way, their lips were quite close together. Her arms had not left his shoulders. The fingers laced together behind his neck. She didn't seem contrary to the idea of kissing, and he would possibly die if he didn't feel her lips on his for at least a second. If a second was all she would allow, he would live inside it for decades.

So he stilled. She stilled with him. Her chin tilted up and his tilted down and he could see every lash amplified as her eyes fluttered closed over dilated pupils and he uncertainly parted his lips the way hers were parted, allowed his own eyes to drift closed because honestly he wasn't able to keep them open any longer. In fact his entire body went lax in her loose embrace, as if to surrender to her power, the magnetic force that drew their lips to that most delicate brushing point - to that atmospheric tickle just at the cupid's bow and the bottom of the pout and -

Banging.

The door.

A spell broke and Jude stepped away flustered, hands going to hair as if it was somehow skewed. "Jude..."

"It's Val." She peered past his shoulder, voice catching. "I'll get it." And she hurried away, leaving him standing in a mire of disappointment.

"Nancy!" Val was embracing Jude, but giving him a friendly wink. "We brought some bread and dessert!"

"Lovely!" He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. To quell the butterflies in his stomach. Smiled tightly at Val's companion - the woman standing a few stiff feet from Jude. "You must be Missy."

Val ushered the blonde forward. "Missy, this is Nan - uh - Timothy! Who I told ya about."

"Yeah." Missy's smile was guarded whereas Val's were so open. "Nice to meet you." She had a soft Southern accent. Not at all what he'd grown accustomed to hearing. And her hand was cool and dry when he shook it.

"Course you remembah Judy." Val gestured to her good friend and Timothy' watched Missy's nostrils flare just a hint.

"Yeah. Of course I remember Judy." An even tighter smile for Jude. There were no hands offered between them.

"It's nice ta see ya again, Missy." Jude tried a pleasantry.

"You, too." Missy tried a pleasantry, too.

"Here, Judy." Val handed over a wrapped casserole dish. "A cobbler. And where do ya want this bread?"

Timothy seated Missy and Val at the table with a beer each. Turned the music down to a background murmur. He bustled about with Jude for a moment, setting their places and checking the mac n' cheese. The roast was nearly done now, so they served up a salad while they waited.

"You musta been workin' pretty hard on this dinner." Val gestured to Timothy and Jude. "Ya both look nice and pink over there."

"Gets hot in here, yeah."

"Rather warm work, indeed." They spoke together, looking at each other guiltily. Touching their respective glasses of tea.

Missy squinted at them. "Y'all...cook together often?"

"Apparently...yes?" Timothy answered, holding a look from Jude. "Well. We do...now."

"First time far everything." Jude amended.

"Lots of firsts." Timothy furthered. There was some awkward nodding and looking about. "Ah... Missy. Where are you from?"

She recognized being recognized as an encroacher. "Kentucky, originally."

"Is the grass really blue there?" Jude asked.

"Kind of."

"Interesting."

"What brought you here?" He wanted to know. What brought any soul here? Any person? And what exactly was their awareness of it?

"Nursing school. And then I got a job at the hospital." So that was the extent of Missy's awareness...

"You enjoy your work?"

She shrugged. "I like helping people and it pays the bills. Guess I can't ask for more."

Val locked eyes with Timothy. She was clearly containing a world of amusement at the moment. "Tim. Where are you from?"

"Ah. Leeds, originally."

"In England?"

"Yes."

"Y'all got the Loch Ness Monster, right?" Missy asked.

"No. Unfortunately, that's um...Scotland."

"Same thing." Jude chimed.

"Nearly." He agreed.

"Only the men wear skirts there."

"Kilts." He corrected Jude with a wince.

"Same thing."

"And uh...what brought you here?" Valerie was enjoying this quid pro quo. Tipped her beer toward him.

"I also came here for school," he answered honestly. "Well. Seminary. I was assigned to a brotherhood in Boston."

"Seminary!" Missy spoke up. "Like for priests?"

"Yes."

She looked at him in a suddenly very different light, then slid a knowing rather judgmental glance toward Jude. "Guess something took you away from the church, huh?"

"Not...exactly."

"He was a shitty priest." Jude dropped the statement like a Jello mold. But he didn't disagree in the slightest.

"And uh - Judy was a nun!" Valerie tossed out almost joyously.

"The fuck she was." Missy's judgmental stare refined.

"She was a shitty nun." Timothy iterated.

"Like...the shittiest," Jude agreed, nodding.

"Huh." Missy nodded. "Well, holy shit."

"We were, indeed." Jude smiled.

"I think the roast is ready!" Timothy practically leapt from his seat, slapping an oven mitt against his thigh.

"I'll check the macaroni." Jude rose, too. Their hips bumped at the stove. She glanced at him sideways. "This might be the most awkward situation you've ever put me in." She hissed.

"I'm fairly certain I've done worse." He whispered back.

"I dunno." She slid the bubbling macaroni from the oven. "That whole Nazi doctor thing might have been preferable to Missy's judgment."

"She does seem a bit judgmental."

"She can cast the first stone all she wants, Timothy." Jude leaned close to his ear, slapped a serving spoon into the macaroni. "But I guarantee you I'll cast the last one."

Timothy cast a silent prayer to the ceiling and turned to the table with roast in hand. "Dinner is served!"

Dinner also barely fit on the little table. But it was delicious, so there were no complaints. "Judy, you haven't lost yer touch in the kitchen, for sure," Val said. "Between you and Nancy here, we won't have ta worry about starvin' anytime soon."

"Thanks, Val." Jude poured herself more tea. "Why um - why do you call Timothy Nancy?"

"No reason." Timothy answered.

"Because he's so negative all the time!" Val replied honestly. "Ya know, he didn't think you were gonna agree ta come stay with him?"

"I wasn't." Jude deadpanned. "You made me."

"And look at ya now!" Val gestured. "Happy as two clams!"

Timothy pondered, looking concerned. "Are clams truly happy?"

"They're at least content." Val defended.

"Until they're in a chowder." Jude counter-defended.

"I think it's about damn time somebody made an honest woman out of our Judy." Missy drawled, brushing breadcrumbs from her slacks.

Jude's nostrils flared. "Oh, I've always been an honest woman. Just so happens most people don't wanna hear the truth."

Val put a hand on Missy's shoulder. "Judy's always been honest with me. She's free-spirited, babe."

"I bet she is." Missy sniffed. "I'm just sayin' maybe she needs...a firm hand." She smiled at Timothy. "Good to see somebody's stepped up to the plate."

"Missy!" Val looked slightly mortified.

But the damage was done. Jude was fully offended. Not that Timothy blamed her. He removed himself from any equation that might emerge. "I assure you my own hands are firm enough, Missy." Said hands currently gripped the table edge. "I'd be happy ta show ya."

"Missy. Stop this." Valerie took a calm, direct approach. "What the hell is into you?"

"Oh, please!" Missy rolled her eyes. "Are we all going to sit here and pretend that she's some wholesome ex-nun come to do good works? Or can we acknowledge the fact she's basically a whore?!"

Jude stood abruptly from the table, anger replaced by hurt. Timothy recognized the expression and stood with her. "Jude." He put his hands on her shoulders from behind, drew her close to him.

"And everyone is still just going to cater to her!" Missy pointed. "Despite every 3 am phone call! Every week long bender! Every black-eyed promise broken! You know, Judy. Val always says she doesn't understand why I don't like you. It's because it took me three years to pull her outta the bottom of a bottle and now I see her throwing her life away on you - doin' the same damn thing. And for what? So you can waste it bein' manhandled by some sorry son of a bitch or another? Not good enough, sister."

"You have no idea who I am!" Jude shouted. "And maybe ya have no idea who Val is. Because I've never known a better more forgiving soul than her and she certainly deserves better than you!"

"How dare you!" Missy bumped the table as she rose. "I saved her goddamn life! I love her! I won't watch her waste so much potential on a woman who doesn't have the capacity to change!"

Jude laughed ruefully. "If you knew how much I've fucking changed..." She breathed, hard, shrugged against Timothy's hands. "And by the way I haven't had a drink in a week! A week I spent sleeping in a bar! Because I wouldn't fuck the motel manager! Does that make me a shitty alcoholic whore just like I was a shitty nun? I sure hope there's something in this life I'm good at!"

"Well, congratulations on your first week of trying to get your life back together." Missy spat. "Let's see if you can do it without ruining someone else's."

Despite her anger, there were tears in Jude's eyes. And Timothy honestly couldn't bear that. She'd cried enough. She trembled like a leaf, and perhaps he took advantage of a weak moment - folded her into his embrace - turning her away from her accuser. "Missy." He spoke very calmly. "While I can appreciate your unique experiences in life, I'm certain you can come to appreciate Jude's. The truth is this woman is rather precious to me, and I can't allow her to be attacked in any fashion. Valerie..."

Jude's head turned from his chest. "Collar yar bitch. And get her outta here before I muzzle her far good."

Valerie was in shock more than anything. She rose shakily, taking in Missy's defiant chin. "Babe." She touched her lover's back uncertainly. "Let's...let's go home, kay?"

Missy let herself be turned, shepherded toward the door. "Don't expect me to apologize," she muttered.

"We'll talk at home, Missy." She turned in the door, Missy hurrying down the steps. "Tim..."

"We're fine, Valerie." He assured her.

"Judy..."

"Go home, Val."

"I'll see ya tomorrow? Pick ya up fer work?"

"Tim's taking me." She didn't look at her friend. Timothy could feel her warm, thick breath on his chest. Felt like he was witnessing the end of something...

"Oh." And Val must have felt that, too. There was heartbreak on her face. She couldn't say anything else. The door closed softly behind her.

There is a quiet that follows the wake of violence. It's a shameful one. He despised it. "Jude," he murmured into the crown of her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"Far what?" She asked. She shook. He could tell she was controlling tears. "You defended me. Stood up far me. Ya didn't have ta do that."

"Everything I said was true. Jude...they cannot know or understand your past. Our pasts. Speaking out of ignorance -"

"She talked like I wasn't even fuckin' there, Timothy!" She pushed away from him, resisted his embrace. "Like I was nothin'! And Val!" A chuff. "Val let her! Right here at our - at your - table! We cooked far 'em for fuck's sake!"

"I know." He tried to soothe her. "You've every right to be angry. I am, too."

She stepped away on a growl of frustration. "I just...thought she was my friend."

"I believe she is your friend. I think she was simply overwhelmed and in an awkward place."

"It doesn't mattah!" She insisted hotly. "If it was you, I woulda stood up far ya no matter what. Like you stood up far me! If somebody means something to ya, you speak up far 'em."

He nodded. "You're right." Best to agree with her. Let her cool down. Honestly, he was concerned for Valerie, too. He could tell she was in a bad place when they left. Hoped that she and Jude could weather this storm together and maintain what he saw as an important friendship.

Jude was crying softly despite her best efforts at control. He hesitated to go to her. She was doing that thing where she crossed her arms, self-soothing and blocking any contact. She paced nervously. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"What you said?" She avoided his eyes, picking at a fringe on his couch-bed blanket. "About me being precious to ya?"

"I've been nothing but honest since I've been here, Jude. I've no intentions of obfuscating now."

Her lips trembled and she hid her face behind her hands. "I've nevah been...a precious thing." She took a deep shuddering breath. "There was a time...longer ago...when some of what she said was true." She blushed brightly. "But I changed. Like people do. I'm not a whore now." A muddled shrug. "I mean...I like men. And maybe I fell far the wrong one once or twice. And maybe I tried ta-"

"Jude..." He went to her. Couldn't resist. "You are my existence in this world now. What you were then - and what I was then - has no bearing on what I want now." He reached slowly for her face, giving her ample time to flinch or retreat.

But she didn't. She let him caress her jaw. Leaned into the sweet touch. "Were ya really gonna kiss me?" She whispered.

He smiled. "I thought you were kissing me."

"No!" She tried to joke. Tried to volley with humor. But she was shattered. "I mean...maybe I was curious."

"If you're still curious," he suggested shyly despite himself.

She took his hand from her face, held it in her own and met his eyes. "I am. But...I think I would like to be alone for a while."

He nodded. Disappointed, but knowing. She needed to nurse her wounds as he had once. "Shall I go out for a -"

"Don't be ridiculous." She kissed perfunctorily the back of his hand before releasing it. "I'm just gonna lay down far a bit. Collect all my thoughts." Tears were threatening again. "Timothy."

"Yes, Jude."

"I really am tryin'."

"I know. I am, too."

She nodded, holding in what he knew were heavy tears, and slowly made her way to the bedroom. She closed the door softly. He could already see her beginning to shake. In her absence - in the after-commotion - he felt his body relax. He worried for Jude. For Valerie. Honestly, he worried for Missy, although at the moment he could have feasibly hit a woman - a thing he'd never imagined from himself. But Missy...she'd been so vicious. So unforgiving. And yes, Jude had given as good as she'd gotten, but he couldn't fault her in the least.

Had Missy done worse than he had? Not even close. The realization gave him pause. Suddenly there was a profound swell - a guilt abscess. His eyes grew hot with his own tears. Needing to be close to her - to the woman he'd destroyed once - he sank to the floor against the bedroom door and cried as quietly as she did. If this was meant to be rebuilding, he was proving to be a dreadful carpenter. How was he to help her when he couldn't seem to hold himself together?

"Why are we crying now?" The soft question was accompanied by soft hands on his head.

He raised his eyes from his knees. "Eunice." He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Where've you been?"

She shrugged. Sat beside him on the floor like a child. "You were doing so well, I thought I'd leave you be."

"I'm not doing well at all."

"You've had some pretty great successes."

"Now she's lost her best friend."

"Not your fault."

"She feels wretched."

"Partially your fault."

"I want to...help her, but I hardly know how to begin. I cannot erase her past. Or my own. And I feel like I'm apologizing every five minutes. Those apologies become meaningless."

She patted his thigh, comforting. "But your actions aren't meaningless. Remember? And you've definitely made progress there. She's here, isn't she?"

"Against her will."

"Jude isn't the type of woman who does anything against her will. She fights. And she could have fought harder. Some part of her wants to be here with you."

He considered. "We did have a nice outing today."

"See?" She nudged him. "And you watched that program on tigers together. That was fun, right?"

"You already know everything!" He accused, hands raised in frustration. "So why do I tell you anything?"

"Hey." She pointed directly in his face. "It's a psychology thing."

"Psychology?" He scoffed. Let his head rest against the door. "I do not have a disorder, Eunice."

"Um. Wow. You don't think you were maybe a Type One Narcissist?"

"Mental illness is the fashionable explanation for sin."

Eunice did a double take, then laughed behind her hand. "Oh, God. Did you hear that from her or did she hear that from you?"

"What are you talking about?"

She sobered. "Nothing."

"Jude wants to see you. Badly."

"I know." Eunice took a deep breath. "I'm here to see her now."

"She'll be pleased."

"She'll be a wreck."

"She's already a wreck."

"She's a wreck you kiiiisssed today!" She teased him, elbowing his ribs none too gently. "Huh? Eh?"

"Owww!" He whined, pulling away from her. "Stop! Damn!" It was like having an annoying little sister. "We didn't kiss."

"Your lips touched."

"Barely."

"That's still kissing!" Now she slapped his shoulder. "What more do you want? Tongues?"His brows quirked in reply. "Oh, that's like first base stuff. And you aren't even in the ballpark yet."

"Thanks," he groused.

"Don't worry." She patted his knee. "You'll be sliding into home plate soon enough."

"Wow." He adopted her exclamation. "Phrasing!"

"Nice and smooth." She made a sliding gesture, extending her entire arm.

"That's enough."

"You're going to score big time."

"Are we not doing phrasing?" He asked incredulously.

"Timothy." Laughing, she grabbed his head and kissed him soundly on the temple. "God bless ya."

"Indeed." He murmured into her bicep. But he needed her embrace. He nuzzled her like a boy. "Eunice. Help her."

A small gasp above him. "Help her? Or help you?"

"You've already helped me. Help her. Or...help me help her. Please."

She pulled back, eyes dark and light at once. "Perfect." A small smile. "Now you're on the right track." She rose, stretching. Pointed at the bedroom door. "I'm going in." He nodded, slid to the wall. "I'll see you later...probably after your first uh...ballgame." He groaned. "We'll call it a scrimmage!" She decided brightly. "You know. For phrasing." A pat on his head. A knock on the door. Soft.

And Jude's voice from inside, muffled: "Come in."