"I'm sorry, Eliot, but I just don't see you as a part of whatever substantial means for me."

"So you don't love me anymore?"

"As a friend, Eliot. I love you as a dear, old friend."

"Since when?" he asked.

"Honestly, it's always been that way."

As Eliot slept in the guest room that night, Harper considered the sixteen years of summers that he had inhabited and felt a vague sense of loss. She was buoyed, though, by the tremendous potential of this new summer. And, although he was disoriented, she knew he would be okay. Better than okay. He had a life already that didn't include her. This breakup felt anticlimactic to her. She thought it would probably be similar for him, once he got over the sting.

After breakfast the next day, Eliot hugged Harper goodbye and left. It was a sad moment, the end of an era. But by the time she had dialed Chelsea's number to report that he was gone, the 0.

sadness had completely left her.

Now, an hour later, as Chelsea's Honda appeared at the curb, Harper couldn't have been happier. She was ecstatic, in fact. Eliot was completely forgotten as she watched Chelsea approach. She moved like a waltz from the street to the door. Her hair, loose, bounced over her shoulders as she stepped up the walkway. She was radiant. She fell into Harper's waiting arms, the sun's heat clinging to her skin and clothes. They clutched one another tightly, their mouths coming anxiously together.

They kissed with unrestrained desire. Finally, Harper pulled away and took Chelsea's hand, leading her into the bedroom.

They sat on the bed and resumed kissing. Neither of them had uttered a word since Chelsea's arrival. They had been talking for months. There was nothing to say now except through touch.

Chelsea pulled off her shirt and slipped out of her bra, tossing it on the floor. There was a faint tan line slung low across her chest. Her firm breasts were as round as peaches and looked just as luscious, their relaxed nipples the color of bubble gum. Harper touched them softly, feeling silk. As her thumb passed over a smooth aureole, it clenched into prominence-an invitation.

They removed the rest of their clothes rapidly.

There was something in her that had been waiting all her life for this moment, thought Harper, holding this woman in her arms. It had been lying semi-dormant, not peacefully as in a dreaming sleep, but fitful and impatient, goading her. And it had taken her all this time to understand what it was that she had been heading toward.

Chelsea lowered Harper to the bed, lying on top of her. Taking hold of Harper's mouth with hers, she kissed her so deeply that Harper could feel desire sweeping across her entire body.

Chelsea's hands moved over Harper's curves, caressing her with exquisite, lingering touches. Her mouth rhapsodized Harper, softly, sweetly. Her fingers touched every part of Harper's body as if she were a blind woman reading the libretto of her soul.

Harper touched Chelsea too, marveling at how soft and sleek she was, how like satin her skin felt against fingertips and lips.

With sensitive abandon, she let her mouth follow its own course- along Chelsea's shoulder, then down between her breasts, along the side of her waist to the bone protruding at her hip, and then into the tender spot at the top of her thigh where honey-colored hair tickled her nose. Facing toward the footboard now, Harper kissed the pale skin below Chelsea's navel, letting her tongue glide along the tan line low on her stomach.

Chelsea turned on her side, pulling Harper's hips close to her face, then stroked her, gently and lightly at first, with her fingers, but gradually more insistently, deepening the sensation, and Harper's body found and matched the rising tempo. She gripped Chelsea's body more tightly as the heat grew between them and her desire swelled. She felt Chelsea's hot breath between her legs and then felt her warm, wet mouth nuzzling into her. As her tongue slid up and back down like a bow on a violin, Harper buried her face in Chelsea's soft inner thigh and let herself be overwhelmed.

Chapter 17.

SUMMER, TWO YEARS AGO (JULY).

The summer of Chelsea, with its long, languid nights of lovemaking, proceeded happily through June and into July. When the time came in late July to travel east, Harper went reluctantly.

She and Chelsea hadn't been apart for more than a day up until then, and she was still drowning in the ecstasy of this woman's company.

"I'll be here when you get back," Chelsea told her, urging her to go. "I'll just want you more."

"I'll only stay nine days," Harper promised.

Those nine days passed by rapidly with frequent phone calls from Massachusetts to California and from California to Massachusetts. Harper, thoroughly preoccupied with her newfound joy, told her brother all about Chelsea on the day of her arrival. She was relieved to have a confidante. Danny, she knew, wouldn't be alarmed or judgmental. He was momentarily surprised, but that soon gave way to the anticipated interest and support.

Harper wasn't able to hide her overwhelming happiness from the rest of her family, although she tried, making her phone calls away from the house or late at night when everyone was asleep.

Since Chelsea was three hours behind, this was ideal. But her mother was watching her, it seemed, growing more and more suspicious, because mothers can sense the moods of their cubs without being told. And it probably didn't look all that nonchalant the times Harper's cell phone rang and she bolted from the room like a spaceship going into hyperdrive.

Alice waited until the third day to ask, "Who is it that you're so preoccupied with, Harper?"

"A friend," she said evasively.

Her mother eyed her in a way that made Harper feel small and vulnerable, as if she were five and being asked, "Who spilled milk all over the dog?"

"Girl friend," Harper said shyly. Although she had correctly predicted Danny's response to her love for a woman, she wasn't sure how her parents would take it, despite their political support for gay rights.

"I see," Alice replied, looking steadily at Harper. "Someone special?"

"Uh-huh."

"Does she have a name?"

"Chelsea." Harper slid the photo she'd been carrying out of her cell phone case and handed it to her mother.

Alice looked at the photo carefully for a moment, then handed it back. "She's darling," she said cheerfully. "A darling girl! Thank you, Harper, for sharing this with me." Alice reached for Harper, giving her a warm hug. She then turned toward the oven where she was baking lasagna and appeared to be finished with the subject.

Harper was perplexed. Maybe her mother hadn't understood.

"Mom," she asked, "is that it? You don't have any questions?

You aren't going to ask what happened to Eliot or why I'm dating a girl?"

Alice turned back to face her, looking puzzled. "I assume it's because you like her. And what do you mean about Eliot? Has something happened to Eliot?"

"I broke up with him, of course. This is a big deal, Mom. I've changed, you see? Dumped the old boyfriend. Dating a girl." She gestured vaguely. "Something sort of different going on here."

Alice gazed at her silently, pressing her springy hair down with one hand, as if holding it on her head. Is she finally going to get it? Harper wondered, waiting.

Alice removed her hand from her head. "Are you trying to tell me that you and Eliot were actually a couple all these years?"

"Well, of course! What did you think? I've been seeing him since college, for God's sake. I mean, no, we weren't married so, in the eyes of the Church, I guess-"

"No, that's not what I meant." Her mother pursed her lips tightly, then said, "I'm sorry, Harper. This is very strange. I didn't realize he was really your boyfriend. I thought we were all just pretending that he was your boyfriend, that you weren't comfortable being open with us."

"What!" Harper stared, unbelieving.

"I thought you've been with women all along. I was hurt, actually, that you never felt you could talk to me about what was really important in your life. I hated it, in fact, going along with this whole Eliot thing. Do you realize that I've been to a dozen PFLAG meetings over the years talking about my gay daughter who simply refuses to come out to me?"

Harper collapsed into a chair. "I don't understand. Why did you think Eliot was a front?"

"Well, it started in high school, of course, with Peggy.

Everybody knew she was a lesbian. The two of you were inseparable, and then you ran off with her to California. You were extremely melodramatic about it. You said that if we wouldn't let you go to California with Peggy, you'd kill yourself. What was I supposed to think?"

All of this was true, Harper realized, except the part about everybody knowing that Peggy was a lesbian. She hadn't known.

The other kids hadn't known. The boys she dated hadn't known.

It had apparently been obvious to some of the adults, though.

"Did everybody think this?" Harper asked. "Danny and Neil?"

"I don't know what everybody thought. We didn't talk about it. We never told them. We thought that if you weren't comfortable coming out to your family, we had to respect that."

"You might have said something during all these years,"

Harper said, still in shock.

"I guess I thought we had an understanding," Alice told her.

"At PFLAG, they told me to be patient and let you come out when you were ready."

"Wow, I can't believe this."

"Well, dear, the good news is that your parents adjusted years and years ago to your being gay, so there's no adjustment period needed now."

It took a few days for Harper to get used to the idea that in her parents' eyes, she had always been gay. But her mother was right, she didn't have to worry about what negative impact it might have on her family relationships. Nothing changed. Even Neil, who hadn't been a part of this decades-long conspiracy, who had always thought of Eliot as his future brother-in-law, didn't seem particularly surprised or disturbed. In the only mention of it between them, Neil hugged her and said, "I'm glad you're happy, Harper." Their parents, having taken a pro-gay stance for such a long time in their effort to be supportive of Harper, had apparently prepared the entire family well for the coming-out day.After that day, Harper's sexual orientation became a non-subject. She didn't know what Neil and Kathy told their children, if anything. Only Sarah, who was about to turn fifteen, was old enough, anyway, to have any real understanding of such things.

She was just coming into an age where she was starting to stand out to Harper, to look like an individual. She was moving out of the amorphous body of her nuclear family to assume her own identity.

Harper only realized this a couple of days later while walking in the woods behind the house. A cushion of verdant grass lay over the ground, kept moist by the canopy of leafy branches above. These few acres had been one of her favorite places as a child.

Harper strolled slowly, thoughts of childhood ripe in her consciousness. When she heard a childlike voice call her name, she looked to see Sarah sitting with her back against a tree trunk, a book on her knees. Her hair, a light shade of brown, hung straight from a center part down upon her nearly flat chest.

"Hi," Harper said.

"Were you daydreaming, Aunt Harper?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, I was. What are you reading?" Harper picked up the book to read the jacket. Les Miserables. She handed the book back.

"How far have you gotten?"

"About halfway. Have you read it?" Sarah stood, tucking the book under her arm.

"Yes, it's a classic. In fact, I saw a play based on it, in San Francisco."

Sarah sighed. "How wonderful to be able to go to the theater.

How wonderful to be able to go to San Francisco."

Those are things I take for granted, thought Harper. She put her arm around the girl's shoulder, and they began walking slowly together. "Have you ever seen a play?"

"Just school plays. You must know a lot about books, Aunt Harper. You must know about every book that's worth reading."

Harper laughed. "I wouldn't claim to."

Sarah was tall for her age and lanky, much as Harper had been as a teenager.

"Daddy says you've been to Europe," Sarah said.

"Yes. I've been to England, Ireland and France. Oh, and two weeks in Italy."

Sarah looked up at her with awe. "Could you tell me about Europe?" she asked. She had the same romantic views of Europe Harper remembered in herself. "Europe," the word itself, inspired romance.

They went down to the dock to talk. Her niece was intelligent and sensitive, Harper discovered, courageous and full of conviction. She was alternately timid and bold. And she was infatuated with learning. Harper was enthralled.

"Could you make a list of books for me to read?" Give me the keys to the kingdom, Harper heard her say. She was touched that Sarah thought she had those keys to give.

"I'd be happy to." She looked closely at the girl. "What do you want to do with your life?" she asked.

"Everything!" declared Sarah in exultation. "Just like you. I want to go away to college, travel all over the world, meet all kinds of people, live in exotic places like California or Zimbabwe."

Harper laughed. What an extraordinary image she has of me. I must seem brilliantly avant-garde, probably because she's filling in all the gaps with her imagination.

"And I would like to have a monkey named Cleo who rides on my shoulder wherever I go," added Sarah, satisfied with herself.

"That sounds sublime," Harper remarked.

Sarah's eyes widened. "Sublime," she repeated, caressing the word with her tongue.

The two of them sat at the end of the dock, their legs dangling above the water.

"Do you write?" Harper asked.

"Oh, yes. I definitely want to be a writer. I write short stories and epic poems."

"Epic poems? Like Homer and Virgil?"

"Exactly!" Sarah said, looking astonished.

"So, is your hero male or female?"

"Female, of course."