Another Kind of Love by Paula Christian

mood to go home.”
    Ginny attempted a smile. “You’re very sweet to do this for me, Laura.”
    â€œI like you—I just wanted to help, that’s all.”
    â€œI know.”
    There was something odd about the way Ginny said that, but Laura wasn’t sure why it was odd—and at this point she didn’t care. She just wanted to get home.

C hapter 8
    â€œH ang your coat in that closet, Ginny,” Laura said, walking into the kitchen and turning on the light. There had been a telegram under the front door, which she had placed in her purse before Ginny saw it. Probably from Walter, Laura thought, and didn’t open it.... I’ll read it later.
    â€œI need a drink. How about you?”
    In a way Laura felt relieved that Ginny had agreed to stay. But now, with Ginny actually walking around in her apartment, she felt uneasy. She pulled out ice cubes mechanically and wondered if she was right in reacting to Ginny’s problem with such apparent nonchalance—or if she should have drawn back in disgust and sent the dirty little girl away.
    No—she knew she was right in accepting Ginny. Actually, she didn’t have much of an alternative. Almost as though in accepting Ginny she was accepting herself—but that was idiotic, of course, she amended hastily. What did she have to accept herself for? Here I am—what else can I do?
    Listening to Ginny walk around the apartment, Laura became aware of a kind of strange peace; a curious hush settled over the room as if no one else were alive in the world. All she knew right now or wanted to know was that she was going to help Ginny all she could. And that at last she felt like a living person instead of some electronically operated observer from outer space—which was how she felt much too often these days. Walter had filled some of her needs, and her work had kept her going . . . but lately, neither Walter nor her work had been sufficient. Unless that New York offer of Walter’s . . .
    I wonder what is in that wire—or if Walter is having any success with his divorcée. Walter. Wouldn’t he be shocked if he knew what I was up to!
    But what am I up to?
    â€œI like your apartment, Laura,” Ginny said, entering the kitchen.
    â€œThanks.” Laura handed a drink to Ginny. “Let’s go in the living room and sit down.”
    She raised her free arm to put around Ginny’s shoulder, then thought better of it—what if Ginny misunderstood? Thought I was making a pass? Well . . . what if she did! Ridiculous.
    â€œA stiff drink, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep will help both of us,” she said as they sat on the couch.
    Ginny looked up at her slowly. “Why did you ask me to stay, Laura?”
    A wave of apprehension gripped Laura as she wondered how to answer the question. “Why? Sorry you came?”
    â€œIn a way . . .”
    â€œOh?” Laura had not expected that. It threw her off balance for a moment. “In what way are you sorry?”
    Ginny took a long swallow of her drink and turned her large eyes—now suddenly sophisticated, knowing—toward Laura. Ginny smiled. “Are you so sure you don’t know?”
    Laura shook her head impatiently. “Let’s cut the runaround. What are you driving at?”
    â€œYou asked me because you’re curious about it, aren’t you?”
    â€œCurious about what?”
    â€œAbout lesbians!”
    The word spilled out so abruptly, so starkly, that Laura wondered if she had heard correctly. It puzzled her that Ginny had brought it up, and so unexpectedly. And there was a hint of theatrics in Ginny’s gestures—like a veteran politician feeling out the mood of his audience.
    Ginny waved her hand into the air as if to gesture away side issues. “I like you, Laura,” Ginny said with just a trace of intoxication in her voice. “But you’re a phony!”
    In spite of herself,