{"id":1271,"date":"2021-07-15T15:58:03","date_gmt":"2021-07-15T22:58:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/?page_id=1271"},"modified":"2021-07-15T15:58:03","modified_gmt":"2021-07-15T22:58:03","slug":"beacon-of-love","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/index.php\/books-2\/romances\/beacon-of-love\/","title":{"rendered":"Beacon of Love"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"pl-1271\"  class=\"panel-layout\" ><div id=\"pg-1271-0\"  class=\"panel-grid panel-no-style\" ><div id=\"pgc-1271-0-0\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1271-0-0-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-editor panel-first-child panel-last-child\" data-index=\"0\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1271-0-0-0\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-editor so-widget-sow-editor-base\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"siteorigin-widget-tinymce textwidget\">\n\t<h2>Beacon of Love<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><div id=\"pg-1271-1\"  class=\"panel-grid panel-no-style\" ><div id=\"pgc-1271-1-0\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1271-1-0-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-image panel-first-child\" data-index=\"1\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-image so-widget-sow-image-default-13f2a8b12fcc-1271\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"sow-image-container\">\n\t\t<img \n\tsrc=\"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Beacon-of-Love-1-229x300.jpg\" width=\"229\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Beacon-of-Love-1-229x300.jpg 229w, https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Beacon-of-Love-1.jpg 761w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 229px) 100vw, 229px\" title=\"Beacon of Love\" alt=\"\" \t\tclass=\"so-widget-image\"\/>\n\t<\/div>\n\n<\/div><\/div><div id=\"panel-1271-1-0-1\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-button panel-last-child\" data-index=\"2\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1271-1-0-1\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-button so-widget-sow-button-atom-35500a5eb44b-1271\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t><div class=\"ow-button-base ow-button-align-center\"\n>\n\t\t\t<a\n\t\t\t\t\thref=\"https:\/\/www.bellabooks.com\/product\/9781594931802e\/\"\n\t\t\t\t\tclass=\"sowb-button ow-icon-placement-left ow-button-hover\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\" \t>\n\t\t<span>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tBUY\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><div id=\"pgc-1271-1-1\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1271-1-1-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-editor panel-first-child panel-last-child\" data-index=\"3\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1271-1-1-0\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-editor so-widget-sow-editor-base\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"siteorigin-widget-tinymce textwidget\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<h3 style=\"margin-bottom:20px ;display:block;width:100%;margin-top:10px\">Beacon of Love <\/h3>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<style>\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t#tab_container_1181 {\r\n\toverflow:hidden;\r\n\tdisplay:block;\r\n\twidth:100%;\r\n\tborder:0px solid #ddd;\r\n\tmargin-bottom:30px;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .tab-content{\r\n\tpadding:20px;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n\tmargin-top: 0px;\r\n\tbackground-color:#ffffff !important;\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tfont-size:18px !important;\r\n\tfont-family: Arial !important;\r\n\t\r\n\t\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n\t}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs {\r\n    border-bottom: 0px solid #ddd;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a, #tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:hover, #tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:focus {\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tcursor: default;\r\n\tbackground-color: #ffffff !important;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a {\r\n    margin-right: 0px !important; \r\n    line-height: 1.42857143 !important;\r\n    border: 1px solid #ced6db !important;\r\n    border-radius: 0px 0px 0 0 !important; \r\n\tbackground-color: #e1e9ee !important;\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tpadding: 15px 18px 15px 18px !important;\r\n\ttext-decoration: none !important;\r\n\tfont-size: 15px !important;\r\n\ttext-align:center !important;\r\n\tfont-family: Arial !important;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:focus {\r\noutline: 0px !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:before {\r\n\tdisplay:none !important;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:after {\r\n\tdisplay:none !important ;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\npadding:0px !important ;\r\nmargin:0px;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:hover , #tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a:focus {\r\n    color: #000000 !important;\r\n    background-color: #e1e9ee !important;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #ced6db !important;\r\n\t\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a .fa{\r\n\r\nmargin-right:5px !important;\r\n\r\nmargin-left:5px !important;\r\n\r\n\r\n}\r\n\r\n\t\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs a{\r\n\t\t\tbackground-image: none;\r\n\t\t\tbackground-position: 0 0;\r\n\t\t\tbackground-repeat: repeat-x;\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n    float: left;\r\n    margin-bottom: -1px !important;\r\n\tmargin-right:0px !important; \r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1181 .tab-content{\r\noverflow:hidden !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (min-width: 769px) {\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\n\t\tfloat:left !important ;\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-right:-1px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\tfloat:none !important;\r\n\t\tmargin:0px !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tmargin-right: 8px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-bottom: 8px !important;\r\n\t\tmargin-right:0px !important;\r\n\t\tmargin-left:0px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\t.wpsm_nav-tabs li:before{\r\n\t\tdisplay:none !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs  li  a  i{\r\n\t\t\t\tdisplay: none !important;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t.wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\t\tmargin-left:0px !important;\r\n\t\t\tmargin-right:0px !important; \r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t#tab_container_1181 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tmargin-right: 8px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t}\t\t\t\t<\/style>\r\n\t\t\t\t<div id=\"tab_container_1181\" >\r\n\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t<ul class=\"wpsm_nav wpsm_nav-tabs\" role=\"tablist\" id=\"myTab_1181\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  class=\"active\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1181_1\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1181_1\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>ABOUT THE BOOK<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1181_2\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1181_2\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>BACKSTORY<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1181_3\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1181_3\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>EXCERPT<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1181_4\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1181_4\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>VIDEO<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/ul>\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <!-- Tab panes -->\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <div class=\"tab-content\" id=\"tab-content_1181\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane  in active \" id=\"tabs_desc_1181_1\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p>Older and wiser, it should have been easy to go home\u2026<\/p>\r\n<p>Twenty-five years ago Stephanie left beautiful Eugene, Oregon, and her beautiful best friend behind. She also left behind her parents\u2019 bitter warfare and the truth that her feelings for Paula weren\u2019t about friendship. Meeting again after all these years, Stephanie is more certain that ever that she will always love Paula.<\/p>\r\n<p>As Paula copes with the loss of her mother, family secrets and bigotry unravel around her, leaving Stephanie the one guiding light in her life. Finally, she can see where their undeniable closeness could lead. But when she reaches out, Stephanie\u2019s family pulls her away, leaving them both far from any safe shore.<\/p>\r\n<p>Ann Roberts\u2019s (Root of Passion, Beach Town) romantic story set under the guiding light of America\u2019s most famous lighthouse follows two women and their search for home.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane \" id=\"tabs_desc_1181_2\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p>Not long ago, the most photographed lighthouse in America was Heceta Head in Oregon. While that title is now held by a lighthouse in Maine (Portland Head Light), Heceta continues to be a huge draw for tourists and locals. As a lover of lighthouses who\u2019s journeyed to at least 25, Heceta remains my favorite, and my wife and I make a pilgrimage each year to stare at the ocean from the base of the light and marvel at the giant, turning Fresnel lens that continues to light the way for seafarers, as it has since 1894.<\/p>\r\n<p>Located just north of Florence, Oregon, Highway 101 eventually meanders back to the coast, providing a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. The highway twists and turns\u2026and then Heceta appears in the distance. Over the steel bridge and taking a quick right will bring you under the bridge and to the parking lot. Many enjoy the beach and the nearby caves, but to see the famous light, a half-mile walk awaits.<\/p>\r\n<p>The gravel path hugs the side of the cliff and halfway up, you\u2019ll reach the lightkeeper\u2019s quarters, now converted to a B&amp;B. There is also a rumored ghost, Rue, who periodically makes her presence felt. Although the house is open sporadically for tours, they\u2019re hard to catch. When I wrote Beacon of Love, I had to satisfy my curiosity with pictures. Years later, I happened to be visiting with out-of-town guests, and we were lucky enough to tour the downstairs. My next goal is to actually stay at the B&amp;B with my wife.<\/p>\r\n<p>The gravel path continues to Heceta, and I sometimes imagine the lightkeepers trudging up the last quarter mile in rain, hail or snow. The path splinters to a smaller trail that climbs high enough to see the magnificent Fresnel light at eye level. The main trail, though, opens to the flat land surrounding the light, hanging over the enormous rocks that sit below. Tours are regularly available in high season (summer) and when there isn\u2019t a pandemic. Benches and telescopes line the circumference of Heceta and visitors can watch sea lions sunning themselves on the lower rocks or perhaps locate a whale just passing by.<\/p>\r\n<p>I\u2019d been to Heceta many times before I noticed the plaque on the bench that faces southward. It\u2019s dedicated to a woman who actually had a heart attack and died at the base of Heceta\u2014during her granddaughter\u2019s wedding. I instantly thought how tragic that was, but I also thought that would make an incredible plot point in a story.<\/p>\r\n<p>I\u2019ve visited a few dozen lighthouses throughout the U.S., and while each has its own beauty, history, and purpose, Heceta remains my favorite.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane \" id=\"tabs_desc_1181_3\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p><p style=\"text-align: center;\">Chapter One<\/p><br \/>June, 1992<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cI wish you could understand, Steph,\u201d Paula sobbed.<\/p>\r\n<p>Some of her tears fell on the paper that rested on her knees\u2014Steph\u2019s acceptance letter from UC Berkeley. Steph resisted the urge to yank the key to her future out of Paula\u2019s hands. She knew Paula needed time to accept what was happening\u2014that after ten years as inseparable best friends, she would be leaving their hometown of Eugene, Oregon, and moving to California for college.<\/p>\r\n<p>They\u2019d situated themselves behind the large rock that according to Steph\u2019s father, divided her parents\u2019 property from the adjoining woods. She was rather certain they owned all of the land that stretched to the road and cut through the base of Spencer Butte, but her father had declared the rock as her personal boundary when she was five. She\u2019d always yearned to explore the thicket of trees that grew southward, but that youthful curiosity disappeared when she was old enough to see over the rock and recognize its beauty as a barrier between her and her parents.<\/p>\r\n<p>She and Paula had no desire to venture beyond the backside of the rock, which proved to be a perfect place for private talks, smoking their first cigarettes and drinking Scotch\u2014both of which sent them flying into the woods to vomit. Recently they\u2019d spent much of their free time hiding behind the impenetrable granite curtain touching each other in delightful ways.<\/p>\r\n<p>Most importantly it was a fabulous hiding place from Steph\u2019s mother, who refused to journey past the redwood deck. Steph always knew she was safe up the little hill since Debbie would never venture that far from the liquor cabinet.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula sniffled and Steph snuck a glimpse at her watch. It was after five. She peered down the hill toward the backdoor. It was still closed. That\u2019s good. Mom\u2019s still watching TV, probably Donahue.<\/p>\r\n<p>She gazed at Paula\u2019s dejected face. She\u2019d been put on the Berkeley waiting list last winter and had nearly given up hope of acceptance\u2014until a letter arrived two days after graduation. She\u2019d dreamed of becoming a Golden Bear since her freshman year of high school, convinced it was the perfect place for a pre-med student. She was euphoric but it had taken her a week to summon the courage to tell Paula, and after an hour of crying, Paula still couldn\u2019t accept what was happening.<\/p>\r\n<p>She checked the backdoor again. Still closed.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cPaula, I don\u2019t understand why you\u2019re all worked up. I know I\u2019m leaving but San Francisco isn\u2019t that far. We\u2019ll call and write.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She squeezed her hand and her sobs faded away. They\u2019d held hands for years but Steph knew that any touch now had lost its innocence, replaced by a desire that crept upon both of them like a virus infecting their bodies.<\/p>\r\n<p>Much of Paula\u2019s profile was obscured by her long chestnut-brown hair, but it was impossible to miss the incredible eyelashes she constantly fluttered and the full mouth that readily met Steph\u2019s whenever they were alone.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cI know we\u2019ll keep in touch but I just can\u2019t believe you\u2019re leaving.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cYeah, but you\u2019ll still have Emilio to hang out with,\u201d she added, referring to their other best friend.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula scowled and she blushed. It was an insensitive comment. \u201cSorry,\u201d she said quietly.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula\u2019s face softened and she stroked Steph\u2019s hand with her thumb. Steph closed her eyes, enjoying the connection. She\u2019d secretly admitted that she savored Paula\u2019s caresses and her touch could make her shiver as if she was standing naked in an Oregon downpour. Although they\u2019d known each other for a decade, it was only in the last three months that they\u2019d tiptoed across the line of friendship into a place that scared Steph to death.<\/p>\r\n<p>But she wouldn\u2019t think about it\u2014couldn\u2019t think about it, even as Paula\u2019s lips found the curve of her jaw and traced it with butterfly kisses. Steph melted at the delicate gesture. Paula giggled as her lips continued their journey to Steph\u2019s mouth. Paula pressed her against the rock, unbuttoning her shirt and fondling her breasts. Steph knew what came next. Paula pulled off her T-shirt and unhooked her bra. She was consumed by Paula\u2019s determined tongue buried deep in her mouth, and it wasn\u2019t until Paula\u2019s nipples pressed against her own that she realized they were half naked.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula kissed her completely, as if she was leaving for Cali in just a few moments. When Paula unbuttoned her shorts, she didn\u2019t pull away as she had in the past. Paula\u2019s tongue was too persuasive and she pulled Steph\u2019s yearning to the surface. Her hand crept between Steph\u2019s legs and rested on her mound.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cMore,\u201d Paula whispered, breaking the kiss and shattering Steph\u2019s lust.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph gently pushed her away. \u201cWe can\u2019t today. My dad\u2019s home and he\u2019ll come looking for me if I forgot one of my chores.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula frowned and her eyes gleamed with tears. Steph didn\u2019t know if she was upset at losing the moment, the letter from Berkeley or both. They\u2019d never talked about Steph\u2019s fear. Paula\u2019s soft lips confused her terribly. She wanted to run away\u2014right into Paula\u2019s arms. She\u2019d created an emotional circle that she couldn\u2019t escape but her sexual terror trumped the guilt over leaving her.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s just...\u201d Paula stammered.<\/p>\r\n<p>She sucked in air but failed to complete her thought.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s just what?\u201d Steph asked impatiently, peering around the rock, willing the backdoor<br \/>to stay closed.<\/p>\r\n<p>She stared at Steph for a long time before she said, \u201cI\u2019ll miss you a lot.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph exhaled, not realizing she\u2019d been holding her breath.<\/p>\r\n<p>The screen door squeaked. After a flurry of redressing, they peered over the rock. Steph\u2019s<br \/>mother, Debbie, tottered out, highball glass in hand.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cSteph! Stephanie! Yoo-hoo! C\u2019mon, Stephie, where are you? John, are you home?\u201d She was wearing a silk negligee, having changed out of the leggings and oxford cloth shirt she\u2019d worn when she\u2019d greeted Paula an hour before at the front door. The thick blond tresses Steph had inherited were stacked on the top of her head with a black clip and her customary deep-red lipstick proved a stark contrast to her ghostly white skin.<\/p>\r\n<p>She glided back and forth across the deck, scissoring her legs in one of her old dance moves. Her lithe body shifted effortlessly and the alcohol did little to thwart her natural grace. She\u2019d told Steph a hundred times she\u2019d given up a career in New York to be with her father.<\/p>\r\n<p>Periodically she\u2019d stop and take a serious drink and then sweep across the deck in the opposite direction. They watched her performance and Steph thought that without her glasses she couldn\u2019t see them. Steph hated that Paula was there but she loathed the prospect of babysitting her mother so she stayed behind the rock. Her father was obviously ignoring Debbie\u2014at least for now\u2014and Steph couldn\u2019t blame him. He was a saint, constantly caring for her mother, suffering her abuses and enduring the public embarrassments she caused the family. There wasn\u2019t an adult resident of Eugene who didn\u2019t know Debbie South, the drunkard, and her unfortunate husband, John.<br \/>He kept his sanity by frequently traveling his sales route in the Midwest where he sold medical supplies to hospitals. Steph missed him but she understood his work. They\u2019d had long talks about her departure for college and she felt horrible about abandoning him, but he assured her everything would be fine and she had nothing to feel guilty about.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cI wish I could dance like your mother,\u201d Paula said, interrupting her thoughts. Steph knew Paula admired Debbie, despite her weird quirks and antics, but Paula couldn\u2019t see what she could. Steph thought Paula\u2019s mother, Francine, was the epitome of a great parent and she\u2019d sought refuge at the Kemper house hundreds of times over the years.<\/p>\r\n<p>Debbie pirouetted and stopped short of falling over the balcony railing. Hopefully she would give up soon and go back to her Lazy Boy recliner and the bottle of Jack Daniel\u2019s she\u2019d bought yesterday.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cThere\u2019s a light over in the Frankenstein place... There\u2019s a li-i-i-i-ight...\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She serenaded them with music from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, a movie she\u2019d seen dozens of times. As long as she kept her clothes on\u2014which wasn\u2019t a guarantee\u2014Steph didn\u2019t care. They lived at the top of a cul-de-sac at the base of Spencer Butte. It afforded them a privacy they frequently needed\u2014like today. Steph took comfort that their closest neighbor, old Mr. Crick, wouldn\u2019t be able to check out Debbie South\u2019s latest performance.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula wrapped one of Steph\u2019s blond locks around her finger. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. I know you won\u2019t miss this when you\u2019re gone. Debbie is just... Debbie.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph turned away, hoping Paula couldn\u2019t see how the simple gesture affected her.<\/p>\r\n<p>Debbie hit a high note and raised her hands to the sky in a big finish. The glass slipped through her fingers and crashed to the deck but she didn\u2019t seem to notice. She held the pose, obviously hearing thunderous applause in her head. With her arms outstretched the silk clung to her curves.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cShe\u2019s beautiful,\u201d Paula said. \u201cI hope I look that good when I\u2019m in my forties.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula and Emilio had seen Debbie drunk often and they\u2019d all laughed together about some of her antics, like the afternoon she staged a pickle rolling contest, offering twenty bucks to the winner, who turned out to be Paula. Her friends always understood Debbie and it was why they were the only people who ever visited during high school.<br \/>John South emerged from the house, the breaking crystal more than he could stand. Debbie took her bow and her ample breasts slipped out of the negligee. She drew herself up before she saw him standing next to her.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWant a little action, Johnnie?\u201d she asked loudly, jiggling her chest in his face.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph thought she might be sick.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cGod, Debbie, you\u2019re trashed,\u201d he scolded sharply, turning away from her and gathering the large shards from the deck.<\/p>\r\n<p>She looked ashamed and she readjusted herself without looking at him again. As she<br \/>opened the screen door, she glanced up toward the rock and Steph wondered if she\u2019d known they were there all along.<\/p>\r\n<p>Once John went back inside they scrunched down again behind the rock. Paula reread the letter once more, quietly folded it into thirds and handed it to her. She wore a look of sad resignation. \u201cI really am happy for you, Steph. We\u2019ve always wanted the best for each other and I don\u2019t want that to change.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cThanks,\u201d she said, relieved.<\/p>\r\n<p>She leaned closer and Steph could smell the Chanel No. 5 she\u2019d given her for Christmas. \u201cI want more, Steph, right now. Your mother\u2019s in the house and your dad is preoccupied. No one\u2019s coming. I want to be your first.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula nuzzled her neck until Steph was blinded by sheer ecstasy. Their clothes were shed again in a matter of seconds and Paula hovered over her, wearing only her underwear. She was beautiful but Steph sat limp against the rock, like a discarded rag doll. She didn\u2019t know what to do.<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula crawled to her and kissed her softly, her body flowing against Steph\u2019s. She lay her down on the soft grass and traced circles on her belly. When her hand swept under Steph\u2019s waistband, it was as though an alarm sounded.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph sat up and Paula fell backward.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cPaula, I can\u2019t.\u201d When her eyes remained unconvinced, she added, \u201cI love you as a friend but I don\u2019t want you like that. I thought you understood.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Paula\u2019s jaw dropped and it seemed to Steph that her mind floated away from the moment, from anything that had existed between them. She remained motionless for a long time, long enough for Steph to hear the cars racing home on the road beyond the little forest.<\/p>\r\n<p>They dressed and Paula started down the hill, Steph trailing after her. They walked around to the front of the house and into the sunlight. Paula put on her sunglasses and looked up, as if a spotlight had been turned on her. Her hair shimmered and her creamy skin relished the attention. Gone were the tears of an hour ago, replaced by a mask of self-assuredness.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWell, good-bye, Steph.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She was puzzled. Paula was spending the summer in Seattle with her grandparents but she didn\u2019t leave for a week.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s with good-bye? We\u2019ll see each other before you go, right?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She looked away. \u201cActually I\u2019m leaving tomorrow. My grandfather asked me to come early and help with the chores.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph knew Paula\u2019s grandparents were third generation fishermen who owned their own business on the Washington coast. She loved visiting them and had invited Steph along one summer. It was the best summer she could remember.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cOh,\u201d was all Steph could say, unable to right herself from the emotional whiplash she felt. In only a few seconds the last ten years vanished.<\/p>\r\n<p>Suddenly it was all overwhelming and the clear path of her future was covered in fog. She opened her mouth to say\u2014something. But Paula turned away and headed down the sidewalk. Steph watched the sunlight sparkle against her hair for as long as she could, until Paula rounded the corner to her street and disappeared.<\/p>\r\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/><p style=\"text-align: center;\">Chapter Two<\/p><br \/>April, 2009<\/p>\r\n<p>When the bathroom attendant at the Troon North Clubhouse watched Stephanie Rollins fling open the door and burst into tears, she quickly led her to a corner of the sitting room with a box of tissue. No doubt she\u2019d seen her share of crying wives after their catty friends had revealed over Blood Mary\u2019s that their husbands were having affairs.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph dabbed her eyes, determined not to ruin her makeup. She took a deep breath and stared at the expensive paintings that adorned the little sitting room, filled with deep cherry wood settees and stuffed chairs. Classical music muffled the unrefined toilet flushes and the gossipy whispers of the trophy wives huddled over the granite sinks reapplying their lipsticks. It was amazing they could outline their lips and simultaneously stab a non-present club member in the back.<\/p>\r\n<p>She leaned against the wall, listening to pieces of their conversations\u2014the sudden chuckles and droll remarks, all at the expense of someone else. No one mentioned her, so at least her news from the dining room hadn\u2019t traveled too fast. After nearly eighteen years of living as a doctor\u2019s wife, she\u2019d heard and said it all. She\u2019d learned quickly that there wasn\u2019t a high road to take and survival in the upper social stratosphere was reminiscent of Roman gladiators\u2014only these warriors had three hundred dollar haircuts and three hundred dollar manicures.<\/p>\r\n<p>She needed to focus on the facts. Her husband Lawrence was having another affair, according to her tennis buddies. It had taken three rum and Cokes to pry the information from Leslie, her doubles partner, but she finally admitted that she\u2019d seen him and Steph\u2019s Bosnian twenty-something domestic, Marta, naked and humping like rabbits in the Rollins\u2019 Olympic-size pool. Apparently Leslie had wandered into the house looking for Steph the day before and got an eyeful from the living room window. When she started to describe their antics under the beautiful waterfall that Steph had designed, Steph excused herself to the restroom, which she now decided was the nicest public restroom she\u2019d ever entered.<\/p>\r\n<p>She thought about leaving but the chaise lounge seemed to wrap its arms around her, coaxing her to stay. More than likely the real culprit was the three whiskey sours she\u2019d consumed with lunch. She was pleasantly toasted and had no desire to rise; however, she knew that her window of opportunity was closing. She checked her Rolex and verified that it was two- thirty, still an hour before Eric arrived home from school.<\/p>\r\n<p>The thought of her son embroiled in the family drama was enough to drag her to her feet. She sought out the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. She\u2019d never had one in her bedroom when she was a kid, Debbie decrying vanity as the root of all evil. But after years of living with a plastic surgeon in an environment where attention to physical beauty was essential to proper breeding, she automatically assessed her appearance, like a complex mathematical equation, the answer of which verified her worth.<\/p>\r\n<p>She saw a thirty-five year-old woman who still got carded when she went on a \u201cgirls\u2019 night out\u201d. Plus. She had a great haircut and her hair was free of gray. Plus. She remained a size six and her long legs were still her best feature. Plus. The boob lift she\u2019d given Lawrence for his thirtieth birthday present was losing to gravity. He\u2019d hounded her to go back under the knife but she refused. Minus. Tiny varicose veins peeked out from under her tennis dress, threading their way down to her ankles. Minus. And speaking of her ankles, they\u2019d soon be cankles. Minus.<\/p>\r\n<p>Not bothering to do the vanity math, she rushed out of the bathroom, ignoring her friends who were probably ordering their fifth or sixth cocktail. The hunky valet waved at her approach and went to retrieve her Beemer.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cHow are you today, Mrs. Rollins?\u201d he offered as he pulled up.<\/p>\r\n<p>She noticed his eyes probing her body as she slid into the driver\u2019s seat. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Curtis, and you?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cNever better,\u201d he said with a model-like smile. \u201cAnything else I can do for you?\u201d She shook her head. \u201cNo thank-you.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She sped away and recognized the irony of the situation. Curtis had indeed done many<br \/>other things for several of the bored club wives\u2014but not for her. After Lawrence\u2019s second affair, she\u2019d thought turnabout was fair play, but sleeping with the head waiter didn\u2019t make her feel better about his cheating and it made her feel worse about herself. And in the end, when she\u2019d announced her affair to Lawrence, he\u2019d had the poor guy fired. She decided then that affairs weren\u2019t her style\u2014at least with men.<\/p>\r\n<p>A year later the club hired a new tennis pro, an incredibly attractive redhead whose personality was as powerful as her serve. They flirted for weeks but Steph was too chicken to do anything until she happened to attend a luncheon in downtown Scottsdale one afternoon and Lawrence walked past the restaurant\u2019s front window, his arm wrapped around the waist of a very young woman. Steph knew she was a temp in the billing department but it was clear from their groping that the relationship wasn\u2019t professional.<\/p>\r\n<p>The next afternoon the tennis pro offered her a rubdown after their workout and Steph accepted reluctantly. She\u2019d never been with a woman, although there had been several ladies who\u2019d caught her eye over the years. None was as bold as the pro, who came into the massage room wearing only a robe.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cClimb up on the table,\u201d she\u2019d instructed.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph held her towel against her chest and lay on her stomach while the pro kneaded her muscles from head to toe for over half an hour, soft jazz music preventing any awkward conversation between them. The afternoon was clearly about their bodies.<\/p>\r\n<p>Steph was so relaxed that she quickly turned over on her front when instructed to do so. The powerful fingers that had released all the tension from her back muscles caressed her face and breasts lovingly. It was an hour Steph would never forget and their weekly liaisons continued for several months until the pro got a better job offer and left Arizona. The entire affair made Steph think of Paula\u2014often.<\/p>\r\n<p>They\u2019d never seen each other after that summer day when she walked away and turned the corner to her house. During the many intervening years the image of her hair glistening in the sunlight took on an ethereal quality and Steph elevated her status to angel. The story of their past had gilded corners on each page. All of it was romantic and beautiful\u2014even the moment when they said good-bye.<\/p>\r\n<p>Her dreams of med-school and an amazing experience at Berkeley lasted a mere year. She\u2019d been lost without Paula and embraced the first clique of co-eds that was kind to her, a group that included Lawrence Rollins, her future husband. According to the therapist who would treat her for depression years later, she hooked up with Lawrence to forget Paula and the feelings she secretly harbored for her.<\/p>\r\n<p>He was a third-year med student, destined to join his father\u2019s lucrative plastic surgery practice in Scottsdale, Arizona. He introduced her to the wealthy crowd\u2014frat boys, sorority girls and the elite athletes. It was intoxicating, as was the alcohol that she enjoyed whenever it was offered. By the time she returned to Eugene for Spring Break, she was pregnant. Lawrence had realized Steph could be persuaded to do most anything when she was under the influence, such as give up her virginity. Unfortunately, when he got drunk he also experienced lapses in judgment\u2014like forgetting to wear a condom. Their son Eric was living proof that pregnancy can happen the first time.<\/p>\r\n<p>She wound the Beemer around the golf course path, grateful for the easy drive when she was drunk. She parked a few houses away and walked the distance. She was on a stealth mission and wouldn\u2019t give herself away.<br \/>She dropped her keys at the door, swearing softly as they clinked onto the terracotta entryway. She fumbled for the right one and the door opened. Eric stood there, his arms crossed, frowning. His dark curly brown hair was long again and she couldn\u2019t see his eyes, which she imagined were filled with disapproval. For a seventeen-year-old, he often acted middle-aged.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re drunk,\u201d he said.<\/p>\r\n<p>She worked to control herself but she was rather certain that her body was swaying, as if she were dancing to a song on her IPOD.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWhat are you doing home?\u201d she asked, ignoring his statement and sweeping past him. \u201cIt\u2019s only two-thirty.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>He followed her into the kitchen, took her purse and set it on the sideboard. \u201cIt\u2019s the third Wednesday of the month. I have early dismissal, remember?\u201d No, she didn\u2019t remember but she nodded anyway.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWhat are you doing home?\u201d he asked, annoyed. \u201cIt\u2019s your day for tennis and a massage.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cI decided to skip the massage,\u201d she said, already heading for the stairs. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you run down to Sal\u2019s and pick up a pizza or something for dinner?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cDinner\u2019s not for four hours,\u201d he said, going to the refrigerator. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you sit with me and I\u2019ll make us some Arnold Palmers? And we can eat some of your amazing muffins.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>He pulled out the lemonade and iced tea pitchers and grinned at her. She loved that grin and Arnold Palmers, their favorite non-alcoholic drink. \u201cUm, just give me a sec to change, okay?\u201d She figured that she could confront Lawrence and because Eric was home, he wouldn\u2019t make a scene, but he would be caught.<\/p>\r\n<p>She\u2019d climbed to the first landing and Eric overtook her, his hand touching her arm. \u201cMom, don\u2019t go up there right now.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>They stared at each other and his eyes were filled with knowing. He was an old soul and his calm nature was contagious. She let him lead her down the stairs and out to the patio. She imagined his plan was to have a pleasant conversation with his mother while his father finished pleasuring the maid and snuck back to work, thinking his stupid wife and former-druggie son were none the wiser.<\/p>\r\n<p>They planted themselves in the lounge chairs, enjoying the tepid weather, which wouldn\u2019t last much longer. Within three weeks the persecuting heat would kill all of her flowers and drive the humans inside. Even the pool wouldn\u2019t be enjoyable, the sun practically boiling the water.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not too hot yet,\u201d Eric said, reading her mind.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cNo, but it will be,\u201d she said sharply. \u201cGod, I hate it here.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cThen why don\u2019t you move?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She looked at him, astonished by the question. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>He pulled his long legs off the lounger and faced her, his arms resting on his knees. He looked more like a father than a son, someone who was about to begin an important lecture. He\u2019d certainly heard enough of them from the drug counselors who\u2019d helped him kick the cocaine habit he\u2019d developed while attending an elite private school. Steph had tried to tell Lawrence that private didn\u2019t equate to better, but there was no way his son would go to public school. It was beneath him. A three month stint at Charter Hospital changed his mind. Eric had straight-A\u2019s after a semester at Desert Mountain High School. If he took summer classes, he could still go to college at San Diego State in the fall, although he couldn\u2019t participate in his high school graduation ceremony, a fact that broke Steph\u2019s heart. Seeing her son in his cap and gown was one of the images she\u2019d clung to throughout his youth when things were incredibly difficult and she wondered if she was a good mother.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cMom, you need to leave dad.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She couldn\u2019t look at him. Yes, he was right. She needed to leave Lawrence. She hated him. She\u2019d never loved him but now she hated him. Such a thought, though, wasn\u2019t supposed to be voiced by her teenage son.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cListen,\u201d he continued, \u201cwhen I was in rehab we talked a lot about our parents and I think I understand you now.\u201d<br \/>She raised an eyebrow. \u201cYou do? What do you think you know?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cThat you gave up everything for me. That you never had any help. And since I was a surprise, as you call it, I don\u2019t think you ever loved dad. I think you tried,\u201d he added quickly, \u201cbut you can\u2019t force yourself to love someone just like you can\u2019t stop yourself from falling in love.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>For a fleeting second she thought of Paula and the fire that burned in her belly every time they\u2019d met behind the rock.<\/p>\r\n<p>She was impressed by her son\u2019s understanding of the world. Of course gay topics only warranted fleeting mentions in their rare family dinner discussions and Lawrence usually had the final homophobic word.<br \/>She looked at her son, a young man she admired and pitied at the same time. He\u2019d grown up in spite of his parents. Steph blamed herself for his stint in rehab but he\u2019d denied she\u2019d played any role in his addiction to drugs\u2014Lawrence hadn\u2019t fared so well. While Eric never blamed him, he never excused him either.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cSon, I appreciate your exceptional and rather uncanny understanding of my situation but I\u2019m not leaving you. I\u2019ve sucked enough as a mother and I\u2019m not going to add abandonment to my list of faults.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>He laughed heartily. \u201cMom, you\u2019re not abandoning me. In a few months I\u2019m out of high school. I\u2019ll be abandoning you. I\u2019ve already told you that I\u2019m going to San Diego. I figure Dad\u2019s good for that much cash since he\u2019s gotta feel a little guilty about missing out on every single thing I ever did in school and countless birthdays. Or, I could join the military,\u201d he added, knowing that topic could make her blood boil. She pointed a finger at him but he backed down. \u201cI\u2019m just saying that it\u2019s time for you to live your life and to hell with dad. Go back to Oregon. You\u2019ve always talked about how much you miss the rain and the trees.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>That was true. She gazed out at the sprawling deep emerald green golf course that lay before them. She\u2019d agreed to build their mini-mansion here because of the view. The lush trees and grass reminded her of home, but she was assaulted by the dreariness of the desert each time she drove out of her garage and faced the other direction.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cYou could live with Grandma,\u201d Eric suggested.<\/p>\r\n<p>She offered a pained smile. She knew he was trying to be helpful. \u201cYou know Grandma lives in an assisted living setting, sweetie. It\u2019s not really an option.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>He laughed again, knowing all of her issues with Debbie. While her parents had always been good to him, particularly when John was alive, she\u2019d always felt closer to Francine, Paula\u2019s mother. Francine had been instrumental in Steph\u2019s decision to keep Eric and they still remained close through phone calls. She\u2019d never say it out loud but Francine had been more of a mother to her than Debbie.<\/p>\r\n<p>He spent another half-hour lobbying for her departure, and she finally asked him if he was trying to get rid of her. He dismissed the idea with a wave and she knew he had no ulterior motives, such as returning to his life of hard partying. She pondered his offer seriously until the backdoor opened and Marta appeared. In the distance Lawrence\u2019s car left the garage. How stupid did he think she was?<\/p>\r\n<p>Marta had told them she\u2019d been a model back in Europe and since her body was nothing but curves, Steph believed her and Lawrence instantly hired her. Her hair was wet from the shower she\u2019d taken after they crawled out of Steph\u2019s bed, and the smile that spread across her face could only belong on the face of an adulterer.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cHow you doin\u2019 Marta?\u201d Eric asked, lifting his drink.<\/p>\r\n<p>She flashed a wide smile and Steph bristled. Marta had been eyeing him ever since she arrived and Steph worried that she\u2019d make her way into his bed. Steph knew that he\u2019d lost his virginity to a woman ten years his senior during a church summer camp on abstinence and addiction.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m great, Eric,\u201d she said, refusing to acknowledge Steph. \u201cIn fact, I\u2019m perfect.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cIs that what Lawrence says, or is that your own over-estimation of your ability in bed?\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>She\u2019d said the words before she could stop herself. 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