Mothers, Maidens, Crones

By Renee Gravelle

Three lesbian couples work through the challenges of their unique relationships and of their particular stages of life. The "mothers" must balance careers, relationship vitality, and the figurative and literal maternal forces tugging at their lives. The "maidens" are at a romantic juncture, discovering there's more than one way to save a life in the midst of deciding whether to remain a couple or go their separate ways. The "crones" are adjusting to retired life, discovering that free time brings out a person's true nature. All the characters are connected by Nikki, one of the "maidens," in this novella of love, discovery, and rescue. Sometimes, humor and adventure sustain a relationship. Sometimes love is a choice. Sometimes, it's best to let it go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renee Gravelle
• Release date: Dec 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311470683

Renee Gravelle

Retired Learning Addict--Book Lover--Cat Lover--Dog Lover--Drinker of dry wine and stout beer--I am older than 25 but still feel that young. The older I get, the more I realize how much I have in common with everyone else. I prefer to write about the dramas of regular people, ordinary people--not the rich and famous. The unseen and unacknowledged lives sweated out and rejoiced over and agonized through are much more interesting. I gave up on my dream of being a professional baseball player long ago. But I still have dreams and every day that that's true is a blessed day.

Book preview

Mothers, Maidens, Crones

By Renee Gravelle

Thank you for buying this book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© 2022 Renee Gravelle Smashwords Edition

CONTENTS

Part 1—Spring Fling

Part 2—Saving a Life

Part 3—The Beaver Rides Shotgun

Part I—Spring Fling

Dinner had been perfectly fine. Unexciting, but good enough. Leftover spaghetti, a fresh salad. French food, as Robin liked to say, followed by the inevitable quip—"le ftovers." In this case, the refrigerator cleanout that would justify a more rewarding and exciting meal at a restaurant sometime during the upcoming three-day weekend.

Approaching this promising midwinter break from the hurly-burly school year, Vicki Kaczmarek was ready to present her plan—at this point, a desire more than an intention. She’d been mulling it over for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, with her spirits floating on the high expectation of three days of freedom, and with Robin in her customary good mood, waxing equally with upbeat hopes, everything seemed to favor a new plan.

The stumbling block, which Vicki now hoped to overcome, would be Robin’s steadfastness—generally a beloved trait but one which, in this case, butted up against the unveiling of Vicki’s plan.

Robin Monaghan wasn’t one to change a sure thing, and steady employment reigned in her life as the queen of sure things.

Will we ever see the sun? Vicki said, glancing out the window over the kitchen sink.

Maybe next month? Robin snuggled into place against Vicki’s back and wrapped her arms around her.

Normally, these words and gestures would foretell a light, frolicsome weekend. If this were a sunlit, late-spring day, the imminent discussion might even become a whimsical exchange of dreams and possibilities. But spring seemed years away. Valentine’s weekend—the midpoint of cold, snowy, limitless dark. A reality that threatened to con Vicki into freezing her dreams and possibilities until some auspicious sunlit thaw.

Dishes done, she settled on the couch to watch TV. In a moment, it was background noise to her anticipation of the coming day’s distractions with their promise of hormonal cupidic craziness. Six years’ experience at the Middle School told her that by the end of the day, every floor would be littered with foil wrappers, sucker sticks, and pierced mylar balloons. After dismissal, half-deflated balloons would skulk about the halls like grand marshals of some surreal parade. Finally, the roar of custodial vacuums and hall polishers would signal that it was time to go home.

As far as Vicki was concerned, the kids got away with too much. On every festive day before a break, she felt like the only sane adult watching other teachers and aides urge her team’s eighth graders on to ever more raucous heights, claiming that a little revelry was just this one day, they’ve worked so hard.

Had they? Yup, she thought, Robin will have to hear it yet again. And how tomorrow, her love of history would die on the point of Cupid’s arrow. Why have school at all!?

She was ready. During a commercial break, she took Robin’s hand and said, I have an idea I want to run by you.

Okayyy? Was the response wary, or was she just still into the show?

About—well, you know—job stuff.

The flash of alarm in Robin’s expression, which might have been a mere wince into the sunlight of a pleasant summer day, ushered a defensive rise into the conversation. Don’t get that worried look. It’s not that bad, Vicki said.

I’m not worried. I’m all ears.

Vicki nuzzled closer. Are you sure?

Robin reached down and clicked the tv off. Go ahead. She turned her face toward Vicki’s and shifted slightly to face her.

Vicki took a deep breath, pushing past her disappointment at the absence of a Honey or Darling after all ears. She began with a steadying Okay. She smiled and settled into the idea. Well, I have a couple of thoughts. I’ve been dreaming.

Robin laughed and cradled Vicki’s face in her hands. So what else is new?

Reassured, Vicki pressed on, the words certain and steady now. I’m at a crossroads. A very unhappy crossroads. I know you know that. Robin gave a wry half-smile and an acknowledging half tilt of her head. I know, I know. What else is new? She smiled and explained. Yeah, I’m settling in, in a way. I’m sort of getting used to things at the middle school.

That’s good. Isn’t it?

Well, yes. And no.

I thought you liked eighth grade. You know, high school light.

"I do. Sometimes. I like the curriculum, yeah. It’s not that that’s the problem. But I’ve been hearing rumblings. She tucked one foot under her knee and swiveled to face Robin. There’s gonna be some high school positions next year."

In Waterville?

Well—maybe. She scrunched her face, anticipating a sigh or a hmmm. Hearing no objection, she continued. Definitely Silver Lake. Twinsburg, possibly. A couple more, maybe even in Fredericksville.

Whoa, that’s a hike.

Well, yeah, I’m not so keen on that. But it’s a smaller place. Might be worth the drive.

Okay.

But what do you think?

Robin shrugged. "I don’t know. You’ve got six years in Waterville now. You’ve got some momentum. You’ve got tenure, for God’s sake. You really wanna give that up?"

Well no. Or maybe yes. See what I mean? There’s no easy answer. She squeezed her lips together, her thinking gesture, and galloped ahead. Six years plus nine years of elementary. Fifteen years—nothing to scoff at. But Waterville—that’s fifteen years of craziness!

I know, I know. I don’t know how you’ve done it, Honey. She shuddered.

"I don’t either! I mean, fifteen’s respectable. I keep thinking I could do just five more. It’s not ideal, but I could."

Yeah, I’d be okay with that. I mean, bare minimum, but it would give you something to keep going for, and I could live with that.

"Well, I’m pretty sure I can’t do another fifteen. Not unless I get out of this crazy school and find something a little better run. She added a final thought so quietly, Robin didn’t seem to notice. Or something else entirely."

Robin laughed. Does that even exist?

Vicki frowned against the lightness Robin was throwing at her misery. You know what I mean, she said quietly.

That sobered Robin up. She cradled Vicki’s hand in both of hers and said, Yeah, I know. It’s just—

Just…what?

I mean, what happens if you keep changing things? Don’t you, like, lose momentum or something? Tenure?

Yeah, I know.

I always thought it was an advantage to stay put somewhere and keep climbing the pay ladder—longevity—seniority—all those good teacher things.

There it was again—the list of career virtues. And yet again, Robin putting the ball in her court, but likely with the usual expectation that Vicki would lobby back a grudging acceptance of the way it had to be.

No, not this time. After fifteen years, it was clear to Vicki that the reality of a district full of troubled kids with a deep hatred of all things scholastic would never match the idealism of her career training. Somehow, she had to convince Robin that the best course was finding a way to make money that also made sense.

Robin continued with the usual pep talk: "Think of the times you do enjoy teaching. Think of the kids you’ve influenced, the ones that come back to visit you. She guided Vicki’s gaze away from the TV. You’re a million miles away." She smiled wryly.

I wish.

You wanna be a million miles away from me?

Vicki gave the attempt at levity a slight smile this time. You know what I mean.

I know, I know.

Robin’s life story surfaced to the forefront of Vicki’s mind. Three brothers, a sister, housewife mom and factory floor worker dad, unchanging furniture through years of pictures, three bedrooms in a small ranch house. How many conversations about growing up poor had fed Vicki’s acceptance of Robin’s aversion to anything that threatened to tear up the financial roots that kept her sane?

The simmering joke between them was Vicki’s innate love of wings balanced by Robin’s love of roots.

We’re just different, Vicki said.

I guess so. But you know, nursing the parents of your kids is no picnic. Robin chuckled at her own quip.

Swept by an overwhelming urge to put the central idea out, Vicki said, No, but you can handle your craziness. I can’t.

Speechless, Robin pursed her lips. They both looked at the TV for a long moment, until Robin asked the question Vicki hoped for. So, then, what do you wanna do?

Vicki exhaled hard. Probably something I thought about when I was a kid, long before I wanted to be a teacher. I don’t know—something truer to myself. You know—we’ve talked about it before.

Mm hmm. She nodded.

"At the very least, a different school. For awhile, anyway. I do like teaching. But not here. You know that better than anyone. I mean—how many times has that place ruined our weekend? Robin, wide-eyed, simply nodded. All right, maybe ruined is too strong. Affected, then."

But it’s what teachers do, isn’t it? Work on weekends?

Aagh, no, that’s not what I mean. Hoping to cut the edge in her voice, Vicki took a deep breath. I mean, how it makes me feel. How I can’t ever relax, not really. Well, there’s summer. Or at least, till August, and then the anticipation takes over and before you know it, it’s full-on panic. I don’t know, Robin, maybe it’s hard for you to understand. I think you just deal with stress different than I do.

Robin nodded and then shrugged. But would it really be different anywhere else?

Vicki put her face in her hands. She saw costs, Robin saw