Make Room for Love

Chapter 18

18

“Hey, Mira.” Mira looked up. Isabel had emerged from her room, wearing her weekend clothes: a soft, faded flannel shirt and jeans with a few smears of white paint. “Do you have time to help me with something? Doesn’t have to be now.”

Mira set her laptop aside on the couch. “Of course. Now is fine.”

This was how it was going to be: an ordinary Saturday morning. A few days ago, she’d sat with Isabel at their kitchen table as Isabel had poured out an extraordinary account of her sister—and of her own life, too, as a sister, a daughter, a granddaughter, a partner, someone who loved and grieved deeply. They hadn’t talked about it since, but Mira hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Isabel was so much more than a pillar standing alone.

Isabel had returned to her usual laconic ways. She’d made dinner for Mira last night, and they had chatted about their days and laughed and shared stretches of easy silence. But Mira would never forget the way Isabel had wept for hours, her strong frame shaking as Mira stroked her back.

And then there had been Isabel’s confession before that. Her mysterious, unspecified feelings . They certainly hadn’t talked about that again. But Mira had not, for a single second, stopped thinking about that either.

“I’m free all day,” Isabel said. “If you’re busy…”

“Please give me something to do other than edit my thesis chapter.” Mira had spent the last ten minutes adding, deleting, and re-adding two words. She stood up and stretched, and winced as her back creaked. “What do you need help with?”

“I need to hang those shelves, and it’s easier with two people.” Isabel nodded toward the shelves propped up in the corner that had appeared yesterday. “Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

“I’ll try my best, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.” It was strangely easy to talk to Isabel the way she always had, all while this new knowledge lived between them.

“You’ll be fine. One second.”

Isabel went to the closet and returned with her toolbox. “I never got around to this. But now that we’re sticking around…” She shrugged. “It’s a two-person job. One of us holds the shelf and makes sure it’s level, while the other person marks where it goes and where the brackets go. The shelves are going up over there.” She pointed to a stretch of empty wall opposite the couch. Mira nodded.

Isabel rolled up her sleeves, exposing her thick forearms. Mira was lit by a spark of excitement. She’d finally get a glimpse of Isabel working, wielding all that competence and strength. She knew now, more than ever, that Isabel’s toughness hadn’t come easily, and it hadn’t diminished Isabel at all in her eyes.

What could someone like Isabel see in her ? What was it that Isabel wanted and wasn’t asking for? Maybe for Isabel, none of this amounted to much—she’d just had a passing thought she’d felt duty-bound to disclose. Even the idea of that gave Mira butterflies. If Isabel had ever looked at her like that , even for a moment…

Her thoughts had wandered. There was no reason to keep dwelling on this.

Isabel took a small device from her toolbox and swept it over the wall. It stuck to a particular spot. “What’s that?” Mira asked.

“It’s a magnetic stud finder. We’re going to drill into the wooden studs in the wall—that’s what the drywall is attached to—so that they’ll hold up the weight of the shelves.” All this was probably painfully obvious to Isabel, but she didn’t seem impatient. She took a pencil from her pocket and marked the location of the stud finder on the wall, and then did it again for another stud with the ease of long experience. Some woman was going to be fortunate, someday, having Isabel put up all her shelves. Isabel said, “Can you get one of those and hold it up? We’ll do these top to bottom.”

Mira grabbed one of the shelves propped against the wall. It was more awkward to balance than she’d expected. Mira wasn’t weak, exactly, but a lifetime of living inside her head had made her uncoordinated. She held it horizontally at eye level. “How high should it be?”

“Depends. How high do you want to reach once the shelves are up?”

It was nice of Isabel to accommodate the shorter people in her life. “This is fine.”

Isabel set a level on top of the shelf, and it was obvious, after a second, that Mira needed to tilt the shelf to center the bubble. It was satisfying to do something physical, as basic as it was, after typing and deleting words all morning.

“That’s good,” Isabel said. “Keep it there. Now watch me.”

Isabel came closer. She marked one end of the shelf, lined up the bracket in the right place, and marked the holes with her pencil, making running commentary. Then she did the same on the other side. Mira took in Isabel’s silver earring, the delicate wisps of hair around her ear, the dusting of dark speckles on her cheek from working in the sun.

“Thanks,” Isabel said. Mira had gotten distracted again. She might have missed a step while she was at it. “You can mark the brackets for the next one.”

Apart from Mira’s failure to stay on task, it was nice to work on something together. No matter how inexperienced she was, Isabel took for granted that Mira was capable of helping out. Isabel held the next shelf in place far more effortlessly than Mira had, and Mira hesitantly placed the bracket. “That’s good,” Isabel said. “Oh, wait. You can get my pencil from my back pocket.”

Mira flushed. Hopefully Isabel didn’t see it. She reached at an awkward angle and plucked the pencil sticking out of Isabel’s pocket, holding her breath as her hand shook slightly, trying to not think about the curve of Isabel’s backside or how tight her jeans were when she was bent at the waist. Trying to not touch anything.

Isabel stiffened as though she’d realized what she’d asked Mira to do. Then the moment passed. Mira concentrated on making her pencil marks. Not on Isabel holding the shelf against the wall with those sturdy forearms.

They dealt with the last shelf quickly. Mira was getting the hang of this. Thank goodness she had something to focus on besides her own thoughts. Then Isabel crouched next to her toolbox. “Come here.”

Mira crouched down next to her, their thighs nearly touching, and watched Isabel put the drill bit into the drill. “Is this what it’s like to be your apprentice?” Mira asked.

“You’re a faster learner than most of them.” They shared a smile and stood back up. Isabel drilled the first few pilot holes with unhurried ease. It was thrilling to watch her work with those big, confident hands, all her experience distilled into a few quick motions.

“Your turn,” she said.

Mira took the drill, and Isabel stood to the side. It occurred to Mira that this part wasn’t a two-person job. In fact, aside from leveling the shelves at the start, Isabel could have done all this herself in a tenth of the time.

Mira lined up the drill bit with one of the pencil marks. “You want it at a right angle to the wall,” Isabel said. Mira adjusted the drill. Isabel didn’t seem satisfied. “Here, let me…”

Mira made room as Isabel came closer. “Excuse me,” Isabel murmured. She didn’t look at Mira as she repositioned the drill, her calluses brushing against the back of Mira’s hand. Isabel’s fingernails were trimmed short and filed smooth. And her hands were moisturized, well-kept, surprisingly elegant. She had thick fingers, thicker than Mira’s.

Isabel stepped aside, satisfied. “Thank you,” Mira said, a moment too late, her voice unsteady.

She was overthinking this, as usual. She was thinking about Isabel more than Isabel had ever thought about her. Isabel was a responsible adult; she hadn’t made a big deal out of it. It was time for Mira to do the same thing.

She pushed the trigger, but the drill made a feeble sound and went nowhere. “Go faster and push harder,” Isabel said. “You have to commit to it.”

Mira did, and a mild thrill went through her as the bit sank into the wall. “Not bad,” Isabel said. “You’ve never done this before?”

Mira shook her head. She wasn’t one for home decor in general. That was the thing about constantly moving from place to place, never knowing if she’d be able to put down roots. “Is it not completely obvious? I’m flattered.”

“It’s a good thing to know. In case you want to hang shelves at your next place.”

Mira drilled another hole. It was easier this time. “I can’t just call you to do it for me?” On second thought, she didn’t want Isabel thinking Mira actually took her help for granted. “I’d pay handsomely. Maybe not in money. We could work something out.”

Isabel’s eyes widened for just a moment before her poker face reappeared. Mira hadn’t meant to flirt—hadn’t meant to suggest she’d offer up whatever Isabel might want. She turned hot from her cheeks all the way down to the tips of her toes.

“I don’t do non-union work for pay,” Isabel said. She was joking, too. Mira relaxed. “I’d do it for free. But you don’t need me. You got the hang of it.”

“Well, it’s kind of you to go out of your way to teach me. Thank you.” Mira had caught on to Isabel’s agenda.

“If I’m asking for help, I might as well give you something in return.”

“But you didn’t have to. That’s what friends are for.” The word friends stuck in Mira’s throat.

“I like to be useful.”

“I’ve noticed that.” Mira drilled one more hole, and then another. “I’m enjoying this. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes because it’s not fun when you do it all day for a living.”

“Not always. But you’d be surprised.”

Mira stood back up. When their gazes met, Isabel’s smile was warm and bright. She was usually so rigid that every quirk of her mouth and eyebrows spoke volumes. Whenever she smiled—genuinely, amusedly, happily smiled—it transformed her.

Isabel was gorgeous. She was hot . The knowledge hit Mira like a physical blow. All her senses were fully dialed up—keenly, painfully sensitive to all those thick curves under Isabel’s clothes, her quietly radiant smile, the sheer magnetism of her presence. Every passing thought Mira had been too afraid to examine, every flicker of curiosity, every burst of affection, every flare of heat—they all added up to one fact. She wanted Isabel.

Desire melted Mira’s insides and made her quiver. Her wanting was too wild and unformed to put into words. Isabel had feelings for her, which could mean anything at all. What was she supposed to do now?

Isabel now looked concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Um, are we doing the brackets?” Mira was dizzy. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Yep.” Isabel eyed her for another moment, then crouched down. “Here, you put in the driver bit.”

Mira would have done this clumsily in the best of times. With her heart thumping and her hands shaking, she stood no chance. She fumbled with the driver bit until Isabel put her hands over Mira’s again and all but did it for her. Each brush of those rough palms against her skin sent sparks through her. Mira was a bundle of kindling about to catch fire.

She stood up unsteadily. Isabel installed the first bracket, and Mira forced herself to pay attention. When it was her turn, she took deep breaths as she worked. One screw at a time.

Finally, the shelves themselves went up, and all Mira had to do was drive in the tiny screws that held them in place. They both stepped back. Isabel asked, “What do you think?”

“Oh, um, I like them.” Mira was too scattered to be articulate. But the shelves were elegant, and they made the living room less bare. More than that, Mira had rarely given any thought to how the space around her had been built. Shelves and cabinets were simply there.

The fact that Mira was capable of altering her space, just like that, subtly changed the way she viewed everything else. Maybe this was how Isabel saw the world: how it had been built, who built it, and what she herself could change.

Mira had had enough ground-shaking realizations for the day. “What are you going to put on them?”

“I thought you could put your books here.”

Mira gasped. “Oh my goodness.” This was unbelievably kind, and thoughtful, and…sexy. She wanted to swoon. The unnameable longing from when she’d been up on the ladder returned—to let herself fall right into Isabel’s arms. What was happening to her? “That’s why you wanted to put the shelves up?”

Isabel shrugged. “You want to get your books yourself, or should I help?”

Mira laughed shakily. “Okay, you can help.” She led Isabel to her room, still flushed, grateful that Isabel couldn’t see her face. They each carried a stack of books back to the living room. “You didn’t tell me,” Mira said.

“You would have told me I didn’t have to.” That much was true. “I figured if you didn’t want to put your books there, I’d come up with something else.”

“Like what?”

“I need some new hobbies. I could start making those ships in bottles or something.”

“I could see that, actually,” Mira said. “You getting into dad hobbies.” Isabel scoffed. “You’re so sweet, Isabel. I’m so grateful.” That was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth, which was that Isabel was making her heart pound and her body run hot, every part of her vibrating with confusing, unfulfilled need.

“Uh, anyway.” Isabel put her hands in her pockets. “I wanted you to know that this apartment is yours. You can take up as much space as you want. It’s yours as much as it is mine. I don’t ever want you to feel any other way.”

Isabel’s words sounded semi-rehearsed, which made them all the more sincere. “You’re so kind to me,” Mira said, bubbling over with emotion. Over the last two months, she’d gone from being a complete wreck to mostly having her life together, and now Isabel was taking her apart all over again. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Isabel looked at her feet. “You did most of the work.”

“‘It’s nothing,’” Mira said, imitating Isabel’s gruff cadence. “You know, if you do something kind for someone, you’re just going to have to accept it when they thank you.”

Isabel gave her a gently amused smile, as radiant as any other. “You’re very welcome, Mira.”

Mira shivered at the sound of her name. Their gazes met, and the charged silence went on for a beat too long. Isabel looked away first.

“I’ll let you put your books in order,” she said. “I’ll get more from your room.”

With Isabel in the other room, Mira was left with only the roar of her heartbeat in her ears. She began putting her books on the shelf—separated into fiction and nonfiction and by language, and alphabetized—and let the process distract her.

Women were interesting and beautiful. Mira was often captivated by specific women, and it was because she admired them and wanted to emulate them. Of course she wanted to be like Isabel. She could appreciate Isabel’s strength and competence and gorgeousness without being attracted to her.

She’d solved this puzzle long ago. She just wanted to be like other women. Right?

That was all true in theory. Reality was something else. Mira wasn’t ready for that right now. She focused on putting all her Loeb editions—green for Latin, orange for Greek—on the bottom shelf. At least her bookshelves could be well-ordered.

After two trips by Isabel, all of Mira’s books were in one place. “Thank you,” Mira said. “I appreciate it. I can take it from here.” She was afraid to look at Isabel. It would be too much like looking at the sun.