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June 24, 2011
New York City, New York
“Carson,” Greta whispered. “Love, can you hear me?”
She watched the slow rise and fall of Carson’s chest and waited, cautious, clutching at Carson’s hand gently, stroking skin that was still deliciously soft, despite the wrinkles and the years of gripping baseball bats.
She sat up in the chair she’d positioned next to the hospital bed they’d had installed in their bedroom, in the apartment they’d made their home over the last six decades.
Eventually, Carson breathed in deeply.
“Mmm,” her smile was small but strong, her eyes remaining closed.
“Will you marry me?”
Carson’s smile grew, her lips trembling with the effort.
“They finally got off their asses and announced it then,” she rasped, eyes opening slowly. Greta grabbed a tissue from the box on the side and dabbed it at the tears leaking down Carson’s cheeks.
“I just saw it on the news. Can you believe it?”
“Maybe it’s all the drugs they’ve got me on, but yeah, I can believe it.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
Carson let her eyes shut again, taking in a deep breath as Greta pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips.
“You sure you wanna marry me if I’m such an asshole?”
Greta tilted her head in the way she was wont to do, tone uncharacteristically serious.
“Carson, all I want to do is marry you. It’s all I’ve wanted for almost 70 years.”
“Well then, I think you’ve waited long enough,” Carson grinned, teeth peeking out from between her lips.
Greta leaned over slowly, bracing herself against the ache in her lower back, and kissed Carson’s temple as softly as she could.
“Sleep now, my love.”
Greta checked the oxygen monitor at the side of the bed before grabbing her walking stick and pulling herself up out of the chair. She brushed a lock of hair, now grey instead of that gorgeous brown, but still beautiful and wild, from Carson’s forehead.
She walked tentatively into the hall, pausing to glimpse at the many photos of their life together hanging on the wall.
There they were the year they met, in their Peaches uniforms, oblivious to all that was to come. She swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing they were luckier than most of their friends, getting to spend a lifetime together.
She reached out a hand and pressed two trembling fingertips to Jo’s face, still somehow glowing with life even in black and white. Joey had been gone almost nine years now, and Greta felt an ache in her chest when she thought how they should be together today, of all days.
She shuffled on through to the kitchen, her pink slippers scuffing the linoleum. She opened the top drawer, feeling around until she found the cellphone she’d used probably less than ten times in the year she’d had it.
She grabbed the glasses hanging from the cord round her neck, and slid them up her nose before searching through her contacts.
“God damn thing,” she hissed when she accidentally called Penelope, a woman they’d been friends with since the 80s, who smelled like eggs, and who she’d really rather not chat to right this second.
Once she’d found the number she wanted, she brought the phone to her ear, clicking the volume up to its maximum.
“Peter, hi, it’s Mom.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________
A while later, as the sun spread rays of deep orange and red across the sky, and the buzz of celebration echoed around Greenwich Village, Greta gazed out of her bedroom window, listening to Carson’s soft snores.
A young man grabbed the hand of another man, and they kissed, pressing their bodies together then pulling back to laugh at one another, a vision of pure joy. They were wrapped in a rainbow flag that billowed out behind them like a cape as they ran down the road toward the crowds that had been gathering since the announcement hours before.
She turned and smiled at the love of her life, making her way to the chair slowly.
“Sweetheart, it’s time for your meds. I’m sorry to wake you.” She nudged Carson’s shoulder gently, sympathy knitting her eyebrows together.
Groggy, Carson shifted under the covers, eyes squeezed tight as she braced herself against the pain of sitting up.
“Never apologise for giving me another chance to look at your beautiful face,” she said, out of breath slightly but smiling.
“You’re such a charmer.”
“Gotta keep you around somehow,” Carson chuckled, her throat hoarse.
“Ah yes, there is that woman in apartment 26 who gave me the eye the other day. I might go and live with her instead. ”
“If I had the energy, I’d punch you in the arm right now.”
“I don’t doubt it, now open wide.” Greta shook two yellow tablets into her palm and presented them one at a time, holding up a glass with a paper straw.
“Why do all meds taste like puke? It makes no sense,” Carson grimaced once she’d swallowed the tablets, settling back down into the pillows.
“Take it up with big pharma sweetheart, I’m sure they’d love to hear it.”
“Now who’s the asshole?”
Greta smirked, but stayed quiet, content just to gaze at Carson for a moment. She reached up to the chest of drawers next to her and took down the bundle of envelopes, tied with a string, she’d stored there.
“Look what I found earlier.”
Carson obliged, lifting her chin slightly.
“You should put those on eBay, they might be worth something.”
“You are an awful person.”
“Mmhm. Read some to me.”
Greta untied the string and began shuffling through them, searching for something.
“Here it is, the first letter you wrote me after you officially left Charlie, before we moved in together.”
“God rest his soul,” Carson smiled sadly.
“God rest him.” They stayed silent for a moment, letting memories wash over them. Greta stroked the back of Carson’s hand with her thumb.
“I remember that day so vividly. I was so scared I wouldn’t get to kiss you again,” Carson blushed as she spoke, even now, after all this time.
“If only we’d known then what our lives were going to be like.”
“How many times do you think we’ve kissed now?”
“However many times it is, it’ll never be enough, my darling.” Greta leaned down and pressed her lips to Carson’s sweetly.
September 3, 1943
Rockford, Illinois
“Oh God, Charlie.”
“Carson? What the hell is going on?”
“Charlie, I can expla-.”
“I don’t think you can.” Tears filled Charlie’s eyes as he stared, open-mouthed, at Carson.
“It’s not…”
“Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like, don’t lie to me, don’t patronise me.”
“Charlie maybe we should go inside,” Carson stammered, the colour draining from her face, her palms sweaty. She looked around, desperately hoping none of the other girls had decided to leave the house at that exact moment.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do right now,” Charlie’s chest heaved, the bouquet of flowers in his hand dropping to the floor.
“Charlie, please…” Carson’s chin trembled as she began walking towards him, stopping abruptly when she heard the tone in his voice.
“Please what, Carson?”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, barely audible.
Charlie’s shoulders dropped in realisation.
“I- I would never put you at risk like that,” he sounded unsure as he said it, but he had said it nonetheless, and Carson looked into his eyes, hopeful. She took a deep breath.
In truth, she had rehearsed what she wanted to say dozens of times in her head, but she’d imagined telling Charlie weeks, months, maybe even years later, when she’d had time to work on her speech, to review, edit, cut it down.
She opened her mouth anyway, if only to fill the silence.
“I know I’ve ruined everything, Charlie. I still love you, and you’re my best friend. But I think, maybe, that’s all you are to me now. Maybe it’s all we’ve ever been, best friends. And that doesn’t mean nothing, but I-” Her voice was small, almost imperceptible, but she clenched her fists at her sides, heart emboldened by the kiss she’d just shared with Greta, and how right it felt, how nothing else had ever felt so right.
“We can work through this, we could start again,” Charlie pleaded, striding towards Carson and taking her hands in his.
“You’re right, we could, but should we?”
Charlie’s bottom lip quivered as tears slid from his eyes, down his nose. Carson pulled him into a hug, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes, feeling her own silent tears spilling down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight, knowing that when the time came to let him go, it would be for forever.
June 25, 2011
New York City, New York
Peter straightened his tie and brushed his unruly hair down with a wet comb. His hair was flecked with grey now, and the bags under his eyes betrayed the stress of the last few months, of nights spent lying awake, waiting for the call from his mother that it had finally happened, that his Ma was gone.
As it happened, the call he’d received had been quite the opposite of what he was expecting, and suddenly they had a wedding to arrange.
He’d booked the next flight out of Boston and sped to the airport, his wife somehow managing to pack bags for them both within ten minutes of getting the go ahead.
They’d arrived in New York in the middle of the night practically, and headed straight to his mothers’ apartment, knowing that his Mom at least would still be awake. There she was, standing in the doorway with a blanket wrapped round her shoulders, propped up by her walking stick, two steaming cups of tea on the counter ready for them.
September 6, 1943
New York City, New York
Carson patted down her skirt and straightened her blouse, fiddling with the collar and biting her lip nervously. She clenched her fists at her side to step her hands from trembling.
Any hopes of running after Greta three days ago, of grabbing her and telling her not to go just yet, to wait for her, had been dashed when Carson had asked Charlie to drive her to the station, both of them crying but holding hands, helpless to resist what was happening.
As they’d pulled into the station parking lot, she’d heard the unmistakeable screech of wheels turning, of a shrill horn blasting into the air, of the train that was taking Greta further away from her with each second that passed.
The conversation with Charlie had taken less time than she thought it would. Really, what was there to say? He was a good man, and he understood what needed to happen as well as Carson did. They had both come to the devastating but necessary realisation that things between them had not been right for a long time, and it was helpless to fight it.
But still, she had missed the train. So, clearly, the only logical thing to do was to ask Charlie to let her borrow his car. She’d not been even a little bit surprised when he’d offered to drive her all the way to New York himself, but the thought of them both turning up on Greta’s doorstep made her brain hurt.
After many, many hours of driving and stays in some very sketchy roadside motels, she found herself pulling into the dizzying, dazzling city. It was only when she’d been driving through the city for half an hour that she realised she had no idea where Greta’s apartment was.
“Shit,” she’d hissed under her breath. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She was so close, so close to finding Greta, being with her, and somehow she’d forgotten to ever ask where she was staying. She felt the sting of tears, but pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes to stop herself from crying. Now was not the time to cry. It was a time to think.
She turned into a narrow road as the sun dipped below the horizon, bringing Charlie’s car to a halt and closing her eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
She thought back to the last time she’d seen Greta, cheeks burning as she remembered the kiss, how it had made her feel. The desperation in Greta’s hands, her lipstick smudging across Carson’s lips…
That was it. Carson could practically feel the connections being made in her brain, and could’ve punched the air if she wasn’t so completely drained.
Greta’s kiss. Her lipstick. Makeup. Vivienne Hughes.
And that’s how she’d found herself at Greta’s office door, after making up some story for the building’s receptionist about how Greta was expecting her, how she was moving to New York too and how she wanted to let Greta know she’d arrived safely and arrange a dinner for sometime that week. As a good teammate would do.
The receptionist had looked slightly bewildered but had, nonetheless, given Carson the necessary directions to Greta’s apartment building. With a quick sniff to her armpit she hoped was inconspicuous, she worked up enough courage to knock on the door.
She heard footsteps. Then, the creak of the door as it opened.
“Carson?”
For a moment, Greta couldn’t move. She could barely even hear what Carson was babbling about, her mouth moving a mile a minute. She hears snippets as they both move further into her apartment, Carson closing the front door behind her gently, politely. Snippets of “I can’t stay long” and “I have to go back to Idaho to figure everything out, to fix things” and then “Charlie knows”, which eventually snapped her back to reality.
“Greta… I meant it when I said I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’ve opened my eyes to a life I never knew was possible. I-”
“Yes?” Greta smiled sweetly, eyebrows arched devilishly above sparkling eyes.
“I love you, Greta. And I don’t know what’s going to happen. This may be the craziest thing I have ever done. But I do know that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least tell you how incredible you are.” She walked slowly towards Greta, whose chest was heaving up and down with the depth of her breath.
“How beautiful, and kind, and funny, and- and everything you are. I just love you. It’s so simple.”
Greta stood still, staring at her, and for a moment Carson thought she might actually have passed out but remained standing up, with her eyes open wide. She reached up a hand to check her pulse, but swiftly found herself being grabbed and yanked forward.
Greta’s mouth was on hers before she really understood what was happening, releasing a moan that Carson could almost taste. Her hands were in Carson’s hair, gripping, grabbing, pulling, just the right amount. Carson moaned back, fingers fumbling at the buttons running the length of the front of Greta’s dress.
She pushed forward gently, guiding Greta with a strength that surprised them both. She was thankful that Greta’s apartment was so small that she could see where her bedroom was from the hallway. She’d been getting ready for bed when Carson had appeared at her door. Her nightdress was spread out over the end of the bed, her dressing table a mess of open containers and curlers.
A lamp on the bedside table threw soft light across the room. Carson pulled back. Shadows highlighted Greta’s gorgeous cheekbones, her cute nose and full lips.
“Why’d you stop?” Greta leaned forward, searching for the next kiss.
“I just wanted to look at you,” Carson breathed, lips spreading into a smile.
“You’re such a romantic,” Greta rested her forehead against Carson’s.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Greta raised her hand slowly, finally resting her palm against Carson’s cheek, marvelling at the softness, the warmth.
“God, you are so beautiful. Are you really here?”
“Last I checked, yeah.”
“Such an asshole,” Greta chuckled, failing to keep the grin from her face as she pushed Carson back onto the bed.
June 25, 2011
New York City, New York
“I think it’s fairly easy to tell which one of my mothers I take after the most,” Peter stuttered as he held up his cue cards in front of him, fingers trembling and voice shaking even in front of the small group of family they’d managed to muster.
Carson was propped up with three large, plump pillows, just about managing to keep her eyes open, a smile stretching across her face at her oldest son’s words.
She had used cue cards in just about every aspect of her life, and they’d never failed her. When they’d won the 1944 Championships, with Carson as their headstrong coach, the rest of the Peaches had finally vowed to stop making fun of her – except Greta of course.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve watched my mothers in complete awe, awe at how much they’ve overcome, how much they love each other, and the ease with which they’ve shared that love with all of their children.”
He looked up from his notes, his wife offering a supportive smile from her place at the back of the room, giving him a little wave of encouragement.
“I first met my mothers in 1962, when I was six years old. I consider myself the luckiest man alive that the state was overrun with kids who had nowhere to go, so they were desperate for foster parents,” everyone chuckled, including Carson and Greta, who looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
It was a sad truth that, had there not been something of a social crisis, couples like Carson and Greta would not have been able to open their homes to those who needed it most.
“I feel so unbelievably blessed to have been placed in their care, and for the life they’ve given me. It is my absolute honour to be able to officiate their wedding. So, Mom, do you take Ma to be your lawful wedded wife?”
He smiled at Greta, passing her a simple gold ring that she quickly slid onto Carson’s finger. She gripped Carson’s hand as tightly as she could, bringing it to her lips and holding it there a few moments.
Peter walked to Carson’s other side and smiled down at his mother, to the woman who had taught him everything there was to know about baseball, and kindness, and baking pies.
He held her hand gently, placing an identical ring between her fingertips and helping her glide it along Greta’s slender finger.
The room was aglow with the delight of the onlookers, many of whom were crying, dabbing at their faces with tissues and handkerchiefs.
“By the power vested in me by a completely official looking website and the very kind man at the registry office who’s handled all the legal stuff to make sure this goes through immediately, I now pronounce you, wife and wife!”
Peter took in a deep breath and led the applause as Greta leaned down and kissed Carson, tasting salt as they both wept.
How long they had waited for this moment.
Greta could never have dreamed of it that first time she’d seen Carson, wearing that adorable training outfit, hair longer then and so much quiet fire in her eyes. She could not have let herself believe it would happen.
She stroked Carson’s cheek, the skin lined with years of laughter, of tears, of heartbreak and joy in equal measure, the measure of a life well lived.
“I love you, Shaw,” she whispered.
“Oh it’s Shaw still?” Carson breathed out a chuckle, and rested her forehead against Greta’s.
“Not anymore, Mrs Gill,” Greta beamed.
“I like the sound of that.”
They kept clutching each other close as they looked out at their family. There was Peter of course, and Samuel, Ginny, Faye, Toby, Luke, Polly, Eleanor, and Steven – just nine of the dozens of children they had fostered over the years, opening their home and offering their love with open arms to everyone they could.
“We love you all,” Carson managed to croak out in little more than a whisper, her eyelids fluttering with exhaustion.
Greta looked up at Peter quickly, her smile wide but beginning to strain, eyebrows knitting together. He nodded at her once, and turned to his siblings.
“I think we should give the two love birds some privacy, don’t you? Drinks at Davie’s, I’m buying I guess,” he shrugged with a smile, his eyes brimming with tears.
One by one, they said their goodbyes, hugging their mothers tightly, thanking them for everything they had done; for saving them, for loving them. One by one, they looked back at Carson and Greta, taking them in one last time.
And then it was just Peter, who was barely able to speak, his chin wobbling, mouth grimacing with grief.
“Today is about happiness dear, only happiness. Don’t ever forget how proud we are of you. It’s us who are the lucky ones,” Greta leaned up to kiss Peter’s cheek, leaving a faint outline of red lipstick on his stubble.
“I love you, moms.” Peter blew them both a kiss, and turned around before he could change his mind. He dimmed the lights and closed the door.
Then, all was still. All quiet.
Greta smiled at the space their family had been standing in moments ago, then turned to face Carson.
“Was it what you’d always dreamed of?”
“It was better than my first wedding, don’t tell Charlie.”
Greta feigned shock, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
She stroked Carson’s hand gently, admiring the way their rings shone together in the soft light of the bedside lamp.
“Greta-”
“You don’t have to say anything, Carson. I know. I know.”
Carson nodded, sinking into the cushions, breath beginning to slow, coming out in short crackles. Greta brushed her lips against her temple and breathed her in, head heavy with the weight of so many memories, eyes sparkling with emotion.
“You can go now, my darling. You’re not alone, I’m here. I love you, so much. I have loved every moment of our life together. We’ll be together again, I promise.”
Carson looked into Greta’s bright brown eyes one last time, trying to convey all that she felt, but quickly realising it was impossible. She quirked an eyebrow, offering a final lopsided grin.
Her eyes closed, and she was gone.
For a moment Greta wanted to scream. She wanted to scream at Carson, at God, at whoever was listening, to bring her back. For a moment, she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her.
But only for a moment.
She brushed her hair back with her fingers, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and reached a trembling hand towards Carson’s bedside table, picking up the photograph she’d placed there earlier. Then, with great effort, she climbed onto the bed, nestling herself into Carson’s side and settling in.
She looked at the photograph, and her Peaches looked back.
“Bring me home, my darling,” Greta whispered as she nuzzled her face into Carson’s neck.
She closed her eyes, and there was Carson running across home plate. There was Lu, and Jess, Esti of course, a beaming Maybelle linking arms with Shirley, her beloved Joey, all their friends rushing towards them, arms outstretched.
And then, just as quickly as she had fallen in love with Carson, they were home, together.