Chapter Text
Bette pumped the brakes harshly, her SUV lurching as it came to a stop. A coppery dust cloud puffed up around the car.
Courage had unexpectedly deserted her, which was worrying, considering that this wasn’t even the hardest part. Gazing into the distance, she swallowed thickly as the black tar road stretched out before her.
You could just go. Hit the gas. She’d never know you were here. She’d never know you even came this far.
No. Bette had been missing for a year. Her weak explanations would - should - fall on deaf ears, yet she owed her that much, she knew.
Finding the nerve to swing her head ninety degrees to the right, she saw the familiar sign hanging on a rusted chain. The other chain had snapped some time ago it seemed, the faded paint and chipped wood of the sign barely legible. A few yards of fence had come down, probably in a recent storm, and had been left to rot at the side of the road. It wasn’t the most welcoming sight, and yet to Bette this place had once been a sanctuary.
Lifting her eyes up the driveway and past the farmhouse, Bette could see a tractor moving through a field. She wondered who was at its wheel. Wondered if blonde hair was flapping in the chilly breeze. Wondered if her Ray Bans were sitting atop her forehead or if they were shading her eyes from the wintry afternoon sun sat low in the sky. Wondered, wondered, wondered.
Drive up there and you can find out for yourself.
Bette winced at her own internal voice.
Refusing to allow another moment’s hesitation, she pressed the gas pedal, turned her SUV into the driveway, and headed up to the farm. Gravel crunched underneath the wheels and she slowed to a crawl, worried she might blow a tyre. It had clearly been some time since the path had been maintained.
The quaint little farmhouse, the one she could draw from memory, grew larger. Bette’s pulse thrummed in her neck as she approached. A year had passed by since she watched the house - and her - shrink in the rearview mirror, looking once, twice, and then no more before gunning it out of the driveway and onto interstate 10. Everything looked almost exactly as it did on that infamous day. The white house remained standing brightly against a cobalt sky, the swing on the wraparound porch to-ing and fro-ing as it had so many nights when Bette herself had sat in it. Though the rest of the farm looked a touch dilapidated, the family had proudly maintained their home. Bette would expect nothing less.
As she parked, the screen door creaked open loudly. Olfactory memory was supposed to be the most powerful, but Bette wondered if it was true, because the moment she heard the sound she was catapulted back to a hundred humid evenings listening to that creaking porch door open and closing.
A man’s voice, coarse and rattling, cut through her nostalgia.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Bette gave a tight-lipped smile as the man, dressed in jeans, a worn work shirt, and straw hat stood atop the wooden steps leading up the porch.
“Been a while, Elizabeth.”
“Bette.”
The man lit a cigarette as he gave a wry smile. “Sorry, Bette, I always heard your daddy call you by your Sunday name.”
“Yeah, well…” Bette searched for the words. “My father passed away six months ago, so Bette will do just fine.”
He took a long drag and lowered his face to the ground. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?” Bette debated.
“Me and Melvin were from two different worlds, but I respected him all the same. And he was your father. That alone deserves regard.”
Relenting, Bette replied, “I’m sure he felt the same way about you.”
He continued to smoke, silence settling uneasily between the two.
After a few minutes, Bette opened her mouth to ask a question.
“How’s Dor–”
“Let’s cut the pleasantries, huh? I know who you’re really here for.”
The brunette smiled weakly.
“You never did have a good way of hiding your real reasons for being here, darlin’.”
“That was a long time ago,” Bette said, her eyes fixed to where she scuffed the red dirt beneath her heeled boot.
“Feels like yesterday for her, I figure.”
Deserved, Bette thought. Any father worth his salt would have ordered her off the premises by now.
“I’m here now,” was all she could mutter eventually.
The man nodded before taking a final puff on his cigarette and flicking it into a bucket of sand.
“She’s in the stables,” he turned and headed back into the house, leaving Bette to watch him as he exited.
The walk to the stables wasn’t far but it felt torturously long. Bette had no idea what would greet her when she got there, but they were like the two poles of the earth, miles apart but always drawn together and impossible to repel. Even now, despite a year passing since they’d last been in each other’s orbit, her feet moved as if on autopilot.
The neigh of a horse grew louder as Bette slowed at the entrance. The doors were wide open, and Bette’s heart hammered in her chest with every step forward and every inch of distance between them decreasing.
When finally she arrested her steps and peered into the cavernous space, the blonde’s back was to her. For a moment, it was as if the planet had stopped on its axis. Her shapely legs still seemed to go on forever. Her blonde hair was swept up, as it always was when she was working on the farm, and Bette knew there’d be beads of sweat running from the nape of her neck underneath the collar of her Stamford jacket.
How many times have I longed for your taste?
In times gone by, she would have surged forward and put her hot tongue firm against the clammy skin, licking a path up to her ear and whispering everything she wanted to do to her. The blonde would giggle and struggle in her arms, pretending she was trying to wriggle free but not really trying all that hard. Inevitably they would find themselves in the hay, stifled sighs and suppressed moans, as they reached again and again for one another. It was addictive, it was irrepressible, it was irresistible.
Except now. Bette had to resist. When she turned to meet her eyes, the brunette had to summon every ounce of strength she had not to fling herself towards the blonde, but one look in hazel eyes stopped any forward motion. There was weariness. A few more lines and crinkles had appeared in the year since Bette had last drowned in hazel. And yet, she still looked as beautiful to Bette as she had the day she first laid eyes on her.
*
“Why don’t you leave her alone, you assholes.”
“Ooo, look, farmgirl to the rescue!”
The gang of boys laughed at their ringleader’s barb as the petite blonde stood, her face angry and her hands on her hips.
“Y’all are fucking dumb. Don’t you have football practice or some other obnoxious shit to do?”
“Not as fun as negging on nerd girl.”
They laughed again.
“Get the fuck out of here!”
The boys, easily bored and with the concentration span of a gnat, threw lewd hand gestures towards the blonde and the brunette before leaving. The blonde looked towards Bette, who was sitting clutching her books to her chest.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. They were just messing around, I guess.”
“They’re losers with shit for brains,” the blonde smiled. Bette smiled in return.
“Thank you for helping, you didn’t need to.”
The blonde shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“I’m Bette, by the way.”
The blonde stretched out her hand to meet the brunette’s.
“Tina.”
*
“Tina.”
The name left Bette’s lips quietly, lost in her own memories.
After a few agonising moments of silence, Tina answered.
“What are you doing here, Bette?”
Bette felt her chest squeeze the way it always did when Tina uttered her name in that soft, sultry drawl.
“I…” she faltered.
What was she doing here? She hadn’t thought this far ahead. Hadn’t formulated her explanation for the last year.
Tina raised her shoulders, as if to encourage a response. When none was forthcoming, those same shoulders sank, and she turned back around to continue to stroke the magnificent Arabian standing in front of her, shaking her head as she did so.
“How did you know I was here?”
Tina laughed humorlessly. “Bette, your car doesn’t exactly scream rural chic. I’m surprised you didn’t leave it at the end of the drive.”
“I don’t mind a little mud on my tires.”
“Please,” Tina joked.
Bette took a tentative step towards the stable door.
“I don’t remember this horse.”
The line was lame and Bette knew it, but in the absence of anything better, this would have to do.
“Why would you? He’s only been here since June.”
Bette watched Tina reach up and stretch to run her hand across the horse’s crest as he snorted. She could imagine the muscles of Tina’s arms and shoulders undulating beneath her jacket.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” Tina agreed without further elaboration.
“What’s his name?”
A beat passed before she answered.
“Apollo.”
Bette nodded.
“Any particular reason why?”
“You’re the scholar, Bette,” Tina mocked. “Why don’t you tell me?”
The brunette allowed the jibe to pass.
“Apollo was known as the averter of evil. He was seen as the patron of shepherds, who would look after their flocks and herds.” Bette paused and dared to smile. “I think your dad might have something to do with naming–”
“Actually,” Tina cut in sharply, “he’s my horse. Dad had nothing to do with naming him. Apollo was my choice. I figure you know this already, but Apollo is also the god of protection. Of healing .”
There it was. Another verbal blow of what Bette suspected would be several.
“Lord knows we need some of that around here recently.”
Bette found herself mute again. A lead weight settled in her stomach as she anxiously flitted through platitudes and plaudits in her mind, trying to find the right thing to say.
When all else failed, she muttered, “I’m sorry”.
Tina’s response came in the form of a loud clatter, as she spun on her heels and sent a steel bucket flying across the stable floor.
“I don’t need your sorry.”
As she moved to leave, Bette did what she had done so many times before and grabbed her hand firmly to pull the blonde back. Tina froze.
“Tina…” Bette pleaded.
“Don’t,” Tina breathed, emotion rising to the surface. “I don’t know why you’re here. I can’t–”
“Can’t what, Tina?”
Bette moved slowly behind her now, unwilling to relinquish her hand, brushing her thumb over each knuckle in an attempt to soothe.
“Can’t… do this.”
When Tina didn’t flinch at her proximity, Bette risked bringing her arms around the slim waist, still clasping their hands, and her head so close to golden wisps of hair. She could smell the notes of Tina’s perfume that lingered behind her ear.
“Then let me. Let me explain why I’ve been gone. Let me try.”
A salty drop of water fell onto Bette’s hand where it held Tina’s.
“Please?”
Tina leaned her head back slightly, closing the gap between them further.
“What difference would it make?”
“It might make none,” Bette answered softly. “Or it might make all the difference in the world. I know I owe you that much.”
After a pause, Tina gave a small nod. “I’m not having this conversation in the house.”
“I know,” Bette accepted. “Come for a drive with me.”