February Kisses Read online

  From that look on the other woman’s face… no. She did not. Probably for the best.

  “I write for an online publication about interesting, everyday women,” she finally said. “I was wondering if maybe I could interview you for one of my next columns. Get a feel for who you are as a member of the community and a young businessowner.” She punctured that with an awkward smile.

  “Online, huh? It’s a step above the Weekly Paradise Gazette.” Heaven chuckled. “No offense to the fine man and woman who run it, of course.” The husband and wife team behind the Gazette did a fine job, but there was only so much a person could do when not much happened in Paradise. “All right. I do love being in the spotlight a bit.”

  “Really? Wow. Thank you so much. You’ll be doing me a huge favor.”

  “I’m doing you a favor? Hon, this place is all about advertising itself to the world. How else do you think we get by outside of tourist season?” Paradise Valley swelled in population during the warm summer months, when outdoorsy types came to white-water raft and hike… and the lesbians from around the PNW decided to Airbnb during Pride, Fourth of July, and Labor Day. All that money was put toward the leaner months of fall and winter. Heaven knew it well. So did the other business owners, like Joan. Even Zareah across the street kept her criticisms about city folk to herself when they overran her deli during the summer.

  But to attract those people to Paradise Valley, a little marketing was in order. Heaven was always willing to do her part.

  “Tell you what.” She plucked a business card from the register and handed it to one of her best customers. “Why don’t you come to our after-hours V-Day party this week? Maybe if there’s some time, we can talk. Could also give you an idea of what I’m really like, eh?” Maybe it could help this gal make some friends. Heaven never saw her hanging out with anyone else. Not in the café, and not at the library where she sometimes saw her. “The café’s email is on that card if you need to run some things by me. Otherwise… let’s see where it goes, huh?”

  That was one of Heaven’s life mottos. Let’s see where this goes… Ha! Led to her first marriage!

  “Thanks. I will.”

  Their gaze lingered a little longer, making Heaven wonder if there was something else this young lady wanted to say. Then she turned around and returned to her seat in the corner of the café, where she stared at Heaven’s business card for a while.

  “Alrighty then,” Heaven muttered before returning to work. A few people had come into the café, and she had money to make. So did the other gal, she was sure.

  Yet when her best customer packed up her laptop for the day, Heaven was surprised to see her saunter over with a business card of her own.

  “I’ll be in touch.” That genial smile accompanied the hand off of the card. Heaven glanced down almost immediately. “Salama Amari. Blogger. Writer. Columnist.” That was the order she chose to arrange those words, huh? “Thanks so much, Heaven.”

  Salama showed herself out, her bookbag weighing down her shoulder. Heaven didn’t have a lot of time to consider such a strange interaction. She had a café to run, and it was still three hours until closing time.

  Even so, did it mean something if she couldn’t stop thinking about it?

  Chapter 3

  SALAMA

  What in the world had she done?

  A column? About interesting everyday women? What a freakin’ liar. Salama barely had any control over the topics she wrote about, and all of the sites she wrote for specialized in Muslim topics. Heaven was definitely not Muslim. So what in the world was Salama supposed to write about? Her audience – let alone her editor – would question the presence of Heaven and her café on any of their websites.

  I came up with that on the fly. Like an idiot. A socially awkward idiot who didn’t know how to flirt. Interviewing Heaven for a column certainly was a convenient way to get to know her, let alone have that precious one-on-one time she desired. Except what the hell was Salama going to do when it came time to put something up on the web? People were internet savvy now. They knew when they were being duped, like when they followed a weird link to a website that had no other content and obviously produced no hits.

  Salama looked out the one big window in her apartment and sighed. Her next inhale brought with it the scent of the pizza parlor downstairs. Smelled like they were prepping their dough for the dinner rush. A sign advertising a heart-shaped pizza for Valentine’s Day flapped in the wind. Salama sat up at her little table, MacBook humming along in front of her, and wondered if she had the balls to go to Heaven’s Valentine’s Day party in two days.

  She invited me personally. So I should go.

  Salama rolled her head toward the window. A familiar black Hyundai rolled up Arizona Street, taking a sharp turn at the stop sign and parking to the side of the pizza parlor. Oh, no. Salama leaped up the moment she saw her brother’s head poking out of the driver’s seat. Nobody looked as lost as Amin whenever he made these surprise trips out to Paradise Valley.

  It was only a matter of time before Salama received a text from Amin, announcing that he was downstairs and would like to come up for a visit. He always did this. He said it was because he never knew when he would have a day off from his software engineering job in Portland. Maybe that was true. Still didn’t excuse him for not telling her before he left the city!

  He would want tea. Maybe a snack, depending on how long it had been since he ate. He would treat her to dinner somewhere. Ask her if she needed help with the groceries. Amin’s lucrative job allowed him to spoil his little sister with the most basic necessities if she was struggling that month. Online writing didn’t pay all of the bills sometimes. That didn’t mean she liked relying on her brother. He already had a bit of a hang-up with boundaries between them, bless his concerned heart.

  “Still so cold in here, huh?” That was the first thing he said after sitting at the table by the window. Salama turned on the tea kettle and rooted through a bin until she found a decent bag of decaf tea. While her brother consumed caffeine, he would have to put up with the fact that she did not. If he wants caffeine, he can go to Heaven’s like the rest of town!

  Shit! She left her laptop open to a work in progress about her! Amin knew that his sister was gay, but that didn’t mean she wanted him knowing about the major crush. Some things should remain sacred between brother and sister.

  Besides, Amin reported most of her news back to their parents, whether she wanted him to or not. They expected it, and he was a son who respected his parents’ wishes whenever he could please them. He and their sister Rana were both like that. That’s why Rana moved back to the Middle East with their parents while Amin stayed behind to make money and spread the wealth. Salama? She went off on her own, the little baby who wanted to prove she could do a few things on her own.

  So, of course, Amin was always sniffing around.

  “I don’t turn on the heat much.” Salama put her laptop away and cleared a spot for her to sit down. “Gets pretty warm here in the evening thanks to the pizza ovens downstairs.” That was a bit of a lie. Yes, the ovens provided some warmth, but not enough to keep her from bundling up in flannel sheets and a sweatshirt covering most of her torso. “Gotta save some money, you know. By the way,” she cut her brother off before he could get too nosy about her financials, “I’ve got a lot of articles coming out this month. Between the payments and my share of the ad money, I should be paying off the rest of my lease with little issue.”

  Amin considered the tree swaying in the wind outside the window. “I really wish you would move in with me, sis. I can afford a two bedroom downtown. Plenty of space for you and me. You can have some social life again. Maybe meet somebody…”

  “I’m not interesting in dating like that,” Salama said.

  “I don’t care if girls come to visit,” Amin said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Maybe girls come to visit me too, huh? Nice thing about our parents being so far away. They only know what I tell them. If I s
ay you are being a good girl and I am focusing on my work… they don’t care.”

  “I don’t want to move back to Portland. Not yet.”

  “You really getting something out of this place?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that it was founded by lesbians? I like being surrounded by women who don’t judge me for being gay.”

  “So do these women not judge you for the other things?” Amin scoffed the moment the tea kettle whistled. “

  Salama had a new headline brewing in her head. “Well-Meaning Brothers Who Totally Don’t Get You.” Amin wasn’t Muslim anymore, either, but he didn’t get what it was like for a woman slowly making the transition. He didn’t have to wear a hijab the moment he got his first period. Eleven, for me. Even their mother had been shocked at how young she was, but that didn’t stop the expectations from hitting a fifth grader like a truck.

  “So how’s work?” Better to get Amin talking about himself instead of obsessing over his sister’s habits. “You said you were working on a big project a month ago.”

  “Ah, yeah. We had a small snafu with the release. Pulled a few all-nighters.”

  “They paid you overtime, right?”

  “I’m salaried so… that’s funny.”

  “Oh.” Salama sipped her tea. What the hell should she ask next? This was the problem with trying to have a real conversation with her brother. She knew he came to see her to check up on her… and because he was lonely for some family, she supposed. It had been harder on him than her when the rest of their family left the country. “Hope it’s over now.”

  “We got it out with minor bugs. That’s about the best we can ask for.”

  They sat in silence for a little longer. Salama cleared her throat every time she thought of something to say. It wasn’t until Amin finally glanced out the window and turned back to her that their conversation resumed.

  “You making friends here yet?”

  Salama felt the blush in her cheeks as she looked away in mild embarrassment. “You know I’m not very outgoing.” She would pretend that was the greatest barrier between her and a healthy social life in Paradise Valley. “It’s hard for me to look up from my laptop sometimes and realize there are people wanting to talk to me. On the flipside, I’m pretty happy as long as I have some energy around me. I go to the cafés and the library here.” She left it at that. Here was hoping he interpreted that as her striking up conversations with random people.

  “So… you have no friends.” Well. That summed it up.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m going to a party on Valentine’s Day. I was invited by the woman throwing it.”

  His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Party? Valentine’s Day? Woman? What kind of party is it?”

  “Come off your high horse. It’s at the café. Playing silly games and eating cookies. Probably more Single Awareness Day than anything couple-oriented.”

  “I see.”

  “Maybe we should meet at the café next time you’re in town,” Salama said. “They have good coffee from what I hear.”

  Amin left half an hour later, before the hour grew too late and the roads back to Portland would be covered in dark shadows. Salama was left to stare out her window as Amin backed out of his parking space and expertly dodged the pizza delivery car coming in around the same time.

  What does he know about any of it? Salama tore herself away from the window, grabbing the empty teacups off her table and taking them to the kitchen sink. Why is it any of his business? I’m a grown woman. I can make friends. It took a lot to offend her. She was already used to ignorant questions about her lifestyle, whatever that entailed. Besides! Heaven had been open to conversation with her. She had invited Salama to a party! Two days. Valentine’s Day – and the party – was in two days. Salama would definitely go. Yet would she bloom beyond wallflower status? Would she do her usual dance of hanging back and waiting for people to talk to her… or would she take the initiative?

  She abandoned her dishes in the sink and opened her MacBook. In the empty word processor she typed the title, “Making Friends in Small Town America.” Her editor would probably rewrite the title, but she didn’t care. She had her topic.

  “I’ve been living in Paradise, OR going on six months now, and I still have yet to make a real friend. I can take the blame for not putting myself out there enough. That’s about to change. I’ve been invited to a party, and I intend to make the most of it. Here is how.”

  Her path would diverge at the upcoming party. Would she discover a new side of herself? Or would she come back the same confused Salama Amari she was before?

  “Two paths split in the woods…” Was that how Robert Frost put it? Sounded like something for the editor to fact check. Salama had things to say.

  Chapter 4

  HEAVEN

  “See you later, Ma.” Heaven kicked open the screen door, her hands laden with distressed boxes comprised of more of her childhood. “Thanks for the grub.”

  Patty Mossberg stepped out onto her porch, leaned against the post, and enjoyed her after-dinner smoke. Heaven descended the squeaking stairs and threw the box into the back of her car. “Anyone who helps me eat my casseroles ain’t that bad, hon.” If anyone asked Heaven where she got calling everyone hon from, one had to look no farther than Patty the postal worker. When she wasn’t out delivering mail, however, she was cooking up a storm in the family kitchen. Worked for Heaven. She was often given leftovers if not invited over for supper half the nights. After long days working in the café – which often included cooking and heating up food for other people – she was not inclined to cook for herself.

  Night was still early. The cold rains and occasional windstorms that frequently came at that time of year tickled the air. Even if it wasn’t raining at that moment, it definitely smelled like rain. Meanwhile, I’m lucky if I make it to work with my hair the way it was when I left the house. Her frizzy hair hated the humidity. Yet where did her parents move back in the early ‘90s, when her dad heard Paradise Valley needed more contractors to help build the bustling community? Rural freakin’ Oregon. Up there in the hills, it was worse than the valley. Maybe not as bad as the coast, where the winds had free reign to knock everything over, but it wasn’t unusual for a tree to block one of the main roads at least once a February. So far? So good.

  Heaven drove ten minutes to the house she rented from a couple who had moved back to Eugene three years ago. They gave her a steep discount in return for taking care of the place, and it was exactly what she needed when she decided to move out of her parents’ house. Sure, she may have grown up in the dilapidated farmhouse that now stood in the middle of Paradise Valley, but it held little comforts. Her father had always been gone, whether on construction sites or at conferences around the region, and her mother was about as maternal as a cat who was inclined to eat her kittens. Didn’t help that she used to live there with Rob, the only man to ever get under her skin.

  So as soon as her business stabilized its profits and gave her a little wiggle room to rent a place? She was moving across town and enjoying her privacy.

  Yup. Privacy. The one thing a woman really needs in her… Heaven’s pleasant demeanor crashed into a dour frown when she approached her driveway on Florida Street. There was no reason for a large blue Ford pickup to be parked by the house. Nor should there have been a large shadow sitting on the swing, the dull light from a cell phone illuminating an all-too familiar face.

  “To what do I owe this amazing pleasure, Rob?” Heaven slammed her car door shut, conveniently forgetting the leftover casserole and some of her old belongings in the backseat. She needed both hands free if she were to approach Rob Pritchett, the former power forward of Clark High School’s perfectly acceptable basketball team. (They almost made it to the league championships Heaven’s senior year. Almost!)

  Rob looked up from his phone, his bushy beard obscuring the features Heaven once found so attractive. He lifted his hand with a slight wave but didn’t hur
ry to get up. “Was in the neighborhood and decided I wanted to talk to you, Heav. Some crime in that?”

  Ah, he was already on the defensive. How lovely, coming from the guy lurking on her front porch. “In the neighborhood? I thought you moved to Silverton.”

  “My work takes me where it takes me. Currently working on a site up in Astoria.”

  “Still not in the neighborhood, Rob, but whatever, huh?”

  “Now, now, no need for the ninth degree, Heav.” Rob motioned for Heaven to sit next to him. “I thought it might be nice to swing by and say hello. See how you and the old town is doing. Met up with some buddies earlier tonight, but you know how those family guys are now. Early to bed, early to rise to take the kids to school.”

  Right. Because few people ever escaped Paradise Valley’s grubby grasp. Heaven was so entrenched in her hometown that she owned the biggest café around. Rob had mobility after Heaven’s father got him a job as a construction worker. After they split up, he took his skills to the valley. Heaven had hoped that would mean the last of him, but old habits refused to die in small town Oregon.

  “You never returned my texts, by the way.”

  Heaven didn’t tell him that was because she blocked his number long ago. He probably had no idea. Almost precious. “I’ve been busy. I got a business to run in town, you know.”

  “Yeah, I swung by that place, too. Saw it was closed.”

  “Not everything is open until eight here in the mountains.”

  Rob patted the seat beside him again. Yeah, right. Even if that swing weren’t a million years old and properly secured to the house, Heaven wouldn’t give him the thrill of sitting next to her. “I’m going to be in town for a few days,” he said. “What are you doing tomorrow for Valentine’s?”

  “Working.”

  “Okay, but you have to close up shop at some point, right?”