Where Eric was ruddy and fair, she was brown and gold, and her smile had the prescience of a gift carefully bestowed on worthy subjects. She was gorgeous enough to instill hatred in women and envy in men, but managed to treat her beauty as a minor fact of her being, behind the force of her intellect and personality. It was a devastating combination.

"Hi," Sandhya said, taking Rosalind away from Eric and hugging her. "You know that all he's talked about all day is having wings with you. It's not like we don't have wings in Rochester."

"Yeah, but they aren't Buffalo wings. And how often do we get to see Ros?"

"I'm glad you guys are early. There's something I wanted to talk to you both about."

Eric frowned, and his whole face became a comic mask. "You in trouble? You need money?" he asked immediately. Sandhya put a hand on his arm, and he quieted down.

"No, no trouble. Maybe you'd better sit down." Rosalind led them to the living room. Eric sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, his brow wrinkled in concern. Sandhya was calm, one hand resting on his back, granting Rosalind s.p.a.ce for whatever she needed to say. "We're having company for dinner," Rosalind began, then wished she'd picked another way to say it.

"What, that's all? Ellie, right? She's always invited. Jeez, you had me worried it was-" Eric said, but Sandhya gracefully halted him.

"I don't think that's it, sweetie."

"Oh. Guess who's coming to dinner?"

"There's something I want to tell you guys, but it's not coming out well. I've met...there's this person. I'm madly...Remember back when you broke it to Mom and Dad that you were dating Sandhya, and it was serious?"

Comprehension showed on Sandhya's face, but Eric broke into a broad grin.

"You're dating a Bengali woman and can't break it to us?" he said with a laugh.

"Half right," Rosalind said softly.

"You're dating a Bengali guy?" Eric said, confused.

"I think she means the other half is right," Sandhya said, her eyes gentle on Rosalind.

"You're dating a woman? Whoa," Eric said, rocking back on the couch.

"Yes, I am." Dating seemed an odd word to apply to her relationship with Taryn. Do you date a tornado, or do you get swept away? Dating sounded so civilized, so removed from the truth. She wanted to say, I met Desire in the form of a handsome girl and surrendered to it. I left my heart like an offering before the divine fire, and like the phoenix, I was immolated and reborn. The words were bubbling up in the brain, old words she might have heard once. The headache slashed at them, shredding the thought.

"Are you happy?" Sandhya asked, and Rosalind looked at her gratefully.

"Happier than I think I've ever been. I'm in love with her." The headache receded when she spoke of the present, when she kept her thoughts narrowed down to the last few days.

"So we get to meet her?" Sandhya asked.

"I invited her to come to dinner with us. I should warn you, she's a little younger than I am. A lot younger, actually. And she'll be very nervous to meet you, so I wanted to get you ready. You aren't saying much. Are you...okay?" Rosalind asked Eric.

He sat, his forehead wrinkled up, his eyes wide. "How come you haven't mentioned it before?"

"It's pretty new. I wanted to talk to you in person, and it worked out that you were coming into town for dinner."

"Am I okay? I just found out my sister is a d.y.k.e. Yeah, I guess I'm okay, but jeez, why didn't you ever talk to me about it? Didn't you think you could trust me? After everything I went through with the folks over Sandhya, I guess I thought you'd open up to me."

"That's what's bugging you?" Rosalind asked, carefully.

"Ros, you really think I care who you sleep with? I'm glad you found someone who makes you happy. I wish you'd trusted me enough to tell me."

"Would it help if I said I'd only been seeing her since Friday?"

Eric's head snapped up. "Yeah, it would help," he said, his smile returning. "Waaait a minute. You've only been seeing her since Friday, and you're in love? You're not easy, are you, Ros?"

She smacked him on the arm, so relieved that she nearly cried. "I'm easy, but I'm not cheap. Unlike some people I could mention."

"Too bad you didn't figure this out earlier. I could have gotten mileage off this with the guys in drill. My sister, the hot lesbian." His smile was evil.

"Eric, that's enough," Sandhya said.

"So what's her name? Let me guess, Monique? Genevive? Buffy?"

"You're thinking in 1-900 numbers again," Sandhya said, pushing him.

"Her name is Taryn. And I think you're in for a bit of a surprise."

Chapter Eight.

Eric, I want you to be nice to her. I mean it," Rosalind said, turning around to face her brother. She'd convinced Eric and Sandhya to go in her car to pick up Taryn and was now regretting it. From the way Eric was sprawled too casually across the back seat, arm around Sandhya's shoulders but eyes fixed on the window, Rosalind was afraid of his interest. What in the world would he make of Taryn?

"I'll be nice to her. She's just a kid, right? I won't scare your girlfriend off."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Rosalind muttered to herself.

Rosalind parked in front of 34 Mariner, behind Joe's red behemoth of a car. She hoped she'd get a chance to go inside and see Taryn privately, even for a moment, but there she was sitting on the porch, talking to Joe. Her head was turned. Rosalind caught a glimpse of her sharp profile, the curve of her neck, the tattoo of the eagle embracing the sun above her shirt collar. She was wearing one of Joe's blue shirts, open at the neck, tucked into a pair of black pants that disguised her hips.

She was saying something to Joe that looked serious; her brows were drawn down. Rosalind got just that glimpse of her and felt her heart expand. Merely looking at Taryn did the most interesting things to her. What would it be like sitting next to her all night, in a restaurant, in front of her brother? Ellie's warning to savor it came back to her. It had only been a day, not even a full day, but the sight of Taryn was like water-clear, brilliant, and shining, a relief her body craved. She took the moment to taste her presence, loving her; then Taryn's head turned, and the blue eyes found her.

There was no one else on the porch, on the street, in the city. Only her lover, whose expression made it plain that the sun shone only in Rosalind's direction.

Rosalind started walking to the steps, pulled on by that look. It took her a moment to recognize the sound of a car door slamming; Eric was right behind her. Taryn stood, brushing dust from her pants. She met them at the foot of the steps, pausing like a leopard on a hillside.

She didn't reach out to Rosalind the way she usually did, though her hands began the motion. She checked, awkward, and held herself away. "Hi," she said to Rosalind, lifting her hand in an unfinished gesture that might have ended in a handshake or a caress.

It broke Rosalind's heart, the thought behind it, the fear. Taryn was holding back in front of her brother, for her benefit. Rosalind got the feeling that it was something Taryn had never done and had no interest in learning to do, but was trying to do for her. Taryn was protecting her from any displays of emotion in front of Eric.

It would be easier for Eric to have a chance to get to know Taryn, to get used to seeing them together, before they displayed any public affection. Rosalind knew that this was the sensible and humane thing to do. After all, he hadn't asked to know that his sister was dating a girl. It was the calm, rational, adult, and understanding way to break the reality of her emotional life to her family, even her beloved brother. No sense in shoving it down his throat by greeting Taryn like she normally would, was there?

Taryn's awkward approach signaled her willingness to play along. Rosalind could relax. Taryn wouldn't cross any boundaries in front of her family. There would be time to talk about it later, undo the damage of hiding.

Rosalind moved with a speed that would make a striking snake proud. She slid an arm around Taryn's neck and kissed her surprised lover with a pa.s.sion that Joe hadn't even seen. Taryn's hands were held out away from Rosalind's body as if afraid to come in contact, but she kissed the woman back.

Joe caught Eric's eye and smiled. "I'm Joe. Taryn's housemate." He held out his hand and firmly shook Eric's.

"Eric. Ros's brother." He managed to take his eyes off the spectacle in front of him and look at the man he was talking to. Eric felt a sense of relief immediately. From his build to his stance, Joe was military. An understanding pa.s.sed between them when Joe took in Eric's haircut, his size. Eric widened his own stance automatically and held his shoulders back.

"Rosalind is great. We're very fond of her here," Joe said amiably.

"I can see that," Eric said. His sister was sucking the tonsils out of Taryn, who looked to him like a boy.

"So, where are you guys thinking of going for dinner? Care for one?" Joe asked, pulling a cigar out of his shirt pocket.

"No, thanks. Anchor Bar. I like hitting it whenever we're in town."

"Great wings. Though I've heard it argued that Duff's are better. Can't beat La Nova for barbecue, though." Joe lit the cigar evenly, rolling it in the flame of his lighter.

"You got that right. I lived on them during college." Eric noticed that his sister had stopped kissing Taryn, but still had her arms around her. They stood like that for a minute, like they were the only two people on earth.

"Taryn, this is my baby brother Eric. Eric, this is Taryn," Rosalind said, opening herself away from the girl to present her.

Taryn looked at him with a mix of pride and confusion, a little flushed from the kiss. She held her hand out, as Joe had. "Hey, Eric." Her voice was low, but not unpleasant, and her handshake was firm.

"Hi," Eric said, abrupt and manly.

Rosalind could read his thoughts, in order, as her brother stared at Taryn. He was wondering what in the world his gorgeous sister saw in this boy/girl teenager. When she'd revealed to him that she was dating a woman, he'd pictured a woman like one in a magazine, who looked like she did, maybe a little taller, with long red hair, or auburn, nice build, makeup, femme. The only kind of lesbian that mattered to a straight man, the high-cla.s.s lipstick girly ones. It was, in its way, a compliment. Clearly he thought she could have any woman she wanted, if she wanted a woman. He would naturally a.s.sume that she'd get the best; she was his sister.

She watched him puzzling it out, taking in Taryn's build, her clothing, her stance, her hair. Slight curl to the lip there, he didn't approve of her appearance. Easy to read. He didn't understand why she wanted a boy. He was in the army, he could spot a d.y.k.e a mile away. Or so he'd said, a hundred times. Taryn was the kind of kid they'd recruit into the service. Tough, fearless, annoyingly competent, but hardly feminine. Then everyone would not ask or tell, as long as she did her job.

They staked out a table in the back room of the Anchor Bar. Jazz played on Wednesday nights, but not until ten, so there was s.p.a.ce available. Eric held the chair for Sandhya, Taryn held the chair for Rosalind. She slid into the chair next to her lover, where she could touch her knee to Rosalind's under the table. Eric sat to her right, Sandhya across from her.

"Everyone good with wings?" Eric asked, disdaining the menu.

"Sure, but I'm not in the mood for the suicidal," Sandhya said. "Why don't we get a double medium? Ros and I can share them. You can gnaw on your nuclear waste by yourself."

"What about you? You don't look like the type to get scared off by a little hot sauce," Eric said, directly to Taryn.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Very little scares me," she said. She felt Rosalind's hand close on her thigh and smiled. "Suicidal sounds great."

The waitress took their order, speaking only to Eric, who seemed to expect that. He ordered a pitcher of Molson along with the wings. The conversation stalled after ordering.

"How's the work with the project going, Sandhya?" Rosalind asked.

Sandhya didn't let on that she'd already given the update on her work to Rosalind in the car on the way over. She smiled as if delighted Rosalind had asked. "Brilliantly. We secured the funding from the city for another year, despite the political mora.s.s. I'm working on a grant to get matching federal funds. I've had less time in court, but after the grant is finished, that should change."

"Except for the new paper you're writing," Eric said.

"What paper?" Rosalind asked.

"I was asked to compile a paper on domestic violence statistics in the States for the Southeast Asian Women's Conference. I only have a few months until the conference, so it will be a bit of a crunch."

"So I'll be abandoned. Guess I'll have to put in a lot of overtime and microwaving dinner," Eric said.

"Don't let him fool you. He's gotten to be a great cook," Sandhya said to Rosalind.

"That's a change," Rosalind said.

"Well, once you train them on how to keep a woman satisfied-cook for them every night-it's a breeze," Sandhya said lightly.

Taryn sat silent while they laughed. She picked up her beer gla.s.s and looked around the room.

"I never thought of Buffalo as your kind of city. It's not Ithaca. You liking teaching here?" Eric asked Rosalind.

"It was a little bit of an adjustment at first, but I love it. My students are great. The city really surprises you. There's a magic to it. It sneaks into your blood."

"Like zebra mussels in Lake Erie," Eric said and laughed.

"It's a border town. You're always on the frontier. It's the perfect place for people in between," Taryn said.

"So, Taryn what do you do?" Eric asked, pouring more beer. Sandhya declined, Rosalind accepted a gla.s.s. Eric tilted his head at Taryn and she nodded.

"Do?" she asked, taking a drink.

"Yeah, for a living. You in school?" He persisted.

"No," Taryn said flatly.

"You work?" Eric asked.

"I do some design work. And I perform."

Rosalind froze. Either direction the conversation went might be disastrous.

"An artist, huh? Funny, I never figured Ros would go for an artist. What do you design?"

"I design tattoos," Taryn said, evenly. The gauntlet was thrown down.

Eric's face lit up, much to Taryn's surprise. "No s.h.i.t?"

"No s.h.i.t," she said, enjoying his reaction. He showed interest, for the first time. Maybe they'd gotten lucky, hit on a topic they could discuss.

"When I was in the service, this guy wanted to have me get a tattoo. He was using me for practice, you know? But he wanted to do something stupid, like a Tweety bird on my b.u.t.t or something queer like that."

"Eric..." Rosalind began, and he turned to her.

"What? Oh, sorry," he said directly to Taryn. "I don't always think before I speak. It's a little new, you know?"

"Yeah. I know. A Tweety bird is dead wrong for you. You need...a Bettie Page, on your arm, and across your back...a leopard, on the left shoulder, reclining. Holding a Masai spear, with the sun setting on the gra.s.sland, across the back."

Eric's eyes widened. "That's perfect! I've always wanted to go to Africa on a safari. How'd you know?"

"Taryn has a gift for knowing what Olchawskis need, even if we can't name it yet," Rosalind said, and was rewarded by a look that made the air burn.