Falling for Hope

  Falling for Hope

  The Hope Stories Collection

  by Natalie Vivien

  © Natalie Vivien 2013 - All Rights Reserved

  Synopsis:

  What if the woman of your dreams was your best friend?

  Veterinarian Amy is looking forward to a week in the woods at the cabin with her closest friends, but this year, their "summer party" is very different from usual. For starters, it's been six months since Melissa, Hope's partner, passed away, and Hope has been withdrawing from their group of friends. And Amy has been keeping a deep secret: she's been head over heels in love with Hope all this time.

  Take a group of best friends on their yearly camping trip, add in a lot of romance, friendships, laughter and heart, and you have the Hope stories.

  Falling for Hope is the complete collection of the four romantic Hope stories, "Visiting Hope," "Building Hope," "Finding Hope" and "Embracing Hope." It is approximately 20,000 words long (several hours of reading or so).

  Table of Contents:

  The Hope Stories, 1: Visiting Hope

  The Hope Stories, 2: Building Hope

  The Hope Stories, 3: Finding Hope

  The Hope Stories, 4: Embracing Hope

  Also by Natalie Vivien

  About Author Natalie Vivien

  Dedication:

  For my darling

  Visiting Hope

  It had been almost six months, to the day, since Melissa died. Amy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, pressing her foot harder on the gas pedal as she swallowed, tried to blink back tears.

  She hadn’t realized it was the anniversary of her death. She should have.

  Outside the car, the dark pines kept rolling past as the gravel track angled higher and higher into the mountains. Amy remembered the first time Hope and Melissa had invited her to their “summer party.” She’d had no idea what she was getting into, ascending that dangerous gravel “road” to the beautiful vacation cabin Hope and Melissa shared with each other, and—each summer—a handful of their nearest and dearest friends.

  Amy had first met Hope at her job at the vet’s office. Hope brought in a cat that had been hit by a car, the orange fur on the near-death feline matted with blood. Amy had just started working there, had just moved to town for the job, and Hope was an as-yet unfamiliar face. The short-haired, stocky woman with the quick smile handed Amy the unconscious cat. Surprisingly, Amy had been able to save the cat, and she was shocked when she came out to the waiting room to tell the patient’s owner just this fact—and Hope declared the cat was a stray.

  “All animals have a right to be taken care of,” said Hope easily as she took out her wallet from her back pocket. She flashed Amy a wide, handsome smile, and Amy’s heart had raced.

  It seemed that almost every day, Hope was in the vet’s office with one of her animals, or a stray that needed help. Amy was getting accustomed to seeing the attractive woman in the waiting room holding a cat or dog or, occasionally, goat. Amy liked Hope’s fast smile, how gentle she was with the animals, and Hope could always tell a joke that would get Amy laughing. Amy was just summoning up the courage to ask Hope out on a date when, one Friday evening, Hope asked her to come out to the summer party. She said our summer party. Not my.

  When Amy pressed for a little more information, Hope said with her effortless smile, “It’s at my and Melissa’s cottage, in the mountains.”

  Of course. Amy shouldn’t have expected that a woman like Hope would be single. But she had been, well, hoping.

  Still, she didn’t have many friends in town yet, so she’d readily agreed.

  Here and now, five years later, Amy came out of the thick, dense trees and parked her Mini Cooper on the gravel lot between Chris’s gigantic blue truck and Aspen’s bucket of rusted bolts that had been, once, a car. Amy switched off the ignition, reached behind her for her overnight pack and got out of the Cooper, pausing with her hand on the car door and inhaling deeply the scent of pine, loam, moss, rotting leaves and—somewhere—perfect wildflowers. Amy stood for a long moment, her fingers gripping the edge of the door and car window, the pack weighing heavily on her shoulder, as she remembered last year at this time, Hope and Melissa and the other women gathered around the bonfire behind the cabin, laughing over some ridiculous joke Chris had made, burning the roofs of their mouths on s’mores and thinking that summer would never end. But it had ended, and then Melissa had gotten into the car accident, driving up the mountain in the snow.

  And Melissa had died.

  Amy was aware that life was finite and precious—she knew that fact intimately, working with animals every day, whose fragile lives she could sometimes piece back together—and sometimes could not. But she’d known Hope and Melissa for five years; they’d been the first friends she’d encountered here, in her new life, and Melissa was the first of Amy’s friends to ever pass away. And so suddenly.

  Amy could just see the lights from the large cabin peeking out from the trees further up the mountain. Everyone was already here, she saw, counting the cars and hefting the pack on her shoulder. She slammed her car door, startling a few blackbirds from a nearby fir, and made her way to the steep staircase, cut in the side of the hill that led to the cabin. As Amy ascended, she began to hear voices.

  It was too beautiful a night for anyone to be inside, and as she’d thought, the women were seated in camp chairs around a roaring bonfire in front of the cabin. The cabin sprawled behind them, a few lights on, warm and inviting in the summer twilight, but what was most inviting to Amy was her group of friends that stood to greet her, arms wide.

  There was Chris with her new girlfriend (Chris always had a new girlfriend), Aspen, Vanessa, Shirley, Cole and Irene with Lindsey. And there was Hope, too, who squeezed her tightly before taking a step back with her easy grin, jerking her thumb over to Aspen, who was currently putting another hotdog on a stick.

  “Dinner’s early tonight,” said Hope, taking Amy’s overnight bag from her and slinging it easily over her shoulder before she turned to take it inside.

  Amy wanted to ask Hope how she was doing, how she was, in general. It’d been a few weeks since Hope had been into the vet’s office. She’d been coming more irregularly since Melissa passed away. It wasn’t like Hope, but Amy didn’t want to press.

  “Hey, Amy, you’re not with any lucky lady?” asked Chris, toasting her from the edge of the fire with her can of beer and a wink. Chris’s current girlfriend punched her in the shoulder, but Chris took another sip of beer and laughed. “I’m telling you, one of these days, you’re going to come up with one of those business types…”

  “I resent that remark,” said Irene, tugging at the top button of her suit’s blouse with a roll of her eyes and a laugh.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with a business type!” promised Chris, pulling her girlfriend down and onto her lap from her perch on the camp chair’s arm (which Amy had been thinking was kind of unsafe by the fire).

  Amy excused herself, curling her hands into fists and, with a gulp, following after Hope into the cabin.

  She wasn’t quite certain where she was getting this resolve from, but she intended to use it before it evaporated like Chris’s beer.

  Amy shut the cabin door behind her after she entered and was plunged immediately into quiet. She leaned back against the door for a moment, listening to the faint murmur of voices outside before clearing her throat.

  “It’s just me, Hope!” she called into the stillness.

  Hope poked her head around the corner from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Hey, Amy… I figured I’d put you in the usual room with Chris and her new lady friend and Vanessa?”

  Amy grinned for a moment, hooking her thumbs in the loops of her jeans. “I m
ean, that’d be fine. But as I recall last time…Vanessa and I didn’t get much sleep on account of how considerate Chris is.” She was laughing as she rolled her eyes, and Hope grinned, too, though she seemed a little subdued.

  “All the beds are full. You could always sleep in my room,” she said, shrugging.

  Amy felt herself redden before she cleared her throat, pushed off from the front door and came forward with one step, two steps. She paused awkwardly, trying to sort out the words she’d planned on saying. “Are you okay?” she finally managed.

  “You know we weren’t partners when it happened. We were on and off so many times…” Hope trailed off, ran her long fingers through her short hair, cleared her throat. “I miss her so much,” she said then, voice cracking, “but we weren’t good for each other.”

  Amy knew that Melissa and Hope had been caught in what they affectionately called “an endless lover’s quarrel.” More often they were friends than partners, but they’d always had a connection. A connection that Amy had watched from the outside, wistful and hopeful, and if she was honest, a bit jealously.

  “I just find it hard to get my feet back under me,” said Hope, then, leaning against the wall and glancing past Amy, through the glass door to the assembled women around the bonfire. “I’ve been looking forward to this vacation for months now. It’ll help me get my head back on straight. You guys kept me going through all of this, you know,” she said, glancing back to Amy.

  Amy swallowed the lump in her throat. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please just…just let me know,” she said then, quietly. “You’re my best friend, Hope. I’d do anything for you.”

  When Hope looked at her, then, her eyes were wide with surprise. Amy swallowed again, nodded her head, not looking at the woman beside her. “I’m kind of hungry,” she laughed softly, turned, trying to blink away the tears that were threatening to spill.

  “Amy…” called Hope. Amy stopped, felt her back stiffen. She breathed out softly. But whatever Hope had been going to say, she changed her mind. “Uh…what room did you want to stay in?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” Amy lied.

  ---

  It was never a proper vacation until Chris brought out the ukulele.

  She was pretty drunk at the point that the ukulele came out but still managed to hit almost all of the notes as a few of the women began to sing. Hope, who usually led the charge of Kumbayas around the fire, was surprisingly quiet tonight, and only Cole and Chris sang a very off-key version of “Amazing Grace.” As off-key as it was, it was still pretty to hear, with the crickets and cicadas chirping, the fire crackling merrily, and overhead the millions of stars that no one could see in town shining now for everyone.

  “I’m calling it a night,” Lindsey declared, after the last note faded away. “We have plenty of time to go on adventures, ladies. Let’s not ruin it by staying up super late the first day.” Lindsey was a teacher, and Amy always found herself moving to Lindsey’s orders long before her mind actually registered it. She thought that Lindsey must have the most well controlled classroom in the States. As the women rose, stretching, taking a last sip of wine or beer or gazing up at the stars, Hope stood, too, came around the side of the bonfire toward Amy.

  Amy found it quite alarming that still, even after five years, her heart sped up when Hope looked at her.

  Amy had had the chance to ask Hope out. Several times, in fact. Melissa and Hope were infamous for breaking up over the tiniest squabble. They disagreed about everything, to the point that it had almost become a joke between them. Hope and Melissa had both had a few different girlfriends during the bouts when they were no longer partners, and Hope had brought one, once, to the annual summer party. Hope had just been in to the vet’s office before she’d asked the girl out, and Amy would always remember that, at the time, she’d felt more cowardly than ever before in her life.

  Maybe it was the fact that Amy didn’t want to ruin their friendship. She often told herself that was the reason she didn’t ask Hope out. But the deepest fear, the reason that she knew, deep down, she’d never gathered up enough courage to ask her best friend out on a date was because she was worried that Hope would say no.

  “I can tell you anything,” Hope had always said to her, patting Amy on the back like she was a little sister, not someone you could ever consider romantically. And Amy loved being Hope’s friend, loved the camaraderie they shared, but when Amy looked at Hope…well. She didn’t see a big sister.

  Hope was a few drinks in, but she always held her liquor pretty well, and she didn’t even act tipsy when she reached Amy, jerking her thumb toward the cabin. “I put you in my room, and I’m getting ready to hit the sack. Are you ready to go in?”

  “Yeah,” Amy said quietly, and Chris and Lindsey began to put out the fire while the rest of the women made a beeline for the cabin.

  There were three bathrooms, but Amy was always the one standing and waiting in line, even though she’d tried to get ahead of the pack this time. She found herself waiting now, holding her toothbrush and toothpaste, with Irene.

  “How’s the veterinary office treating you?” asked Irene with a smile. Irene owned a horse farm on the far edge of town and sometimes brought her barn cats into the vet clinic.

  “Good…good…” she said, trailing off. Her shoulders were up around her ears; she felt tense and couldn’t quite shake it. When she’d gone into Hope’s room—what had been Hope and Melissa’s room—there seemed to be the shadow of Melissa everywhere.

  “Hey…it’s not my place or nothing,” said Irene, leaning down toward Amy then, conspiratorially, “but have you told Hope how you feel about her?”

  Amy felt her heart climb up into her throat as she stared at her friend with wide eyes, mouth open. “What do you…how do you…” She shut her mouth just as quickly as she’d opened it, mortified.

  How did Irene know?

  “It’s kind of obvious,” Irene chuckled, not unkindly. “I just wanted to tell you…if you haven’t told Hope because of Melissa or whatever—you have to trust me on this. I’ve known those two for twenty years. They weren’t meant to be together. We’re never going to forget Melissa. She’ll be in our hearts always. But she and Hope weren’t even together when Melissa got into the accident, and if you’re not telling Hope how you feel because of a sense of loyalty, well…”

  Hope rounded the corner just then, decked out for bed in a tank top and boxer bottoms. Irene straightened a little, grinning as Hope strode past, headed for the kitchen and the “sleepy tea” Cole had been making for everyone.

  Amy finally found her voice. “Irene…” But she didn’t know what to say.

  “Just think about it, okay?” said Irene, as Vanessa came out of the bathroom ahead of them. Amy practically dove into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door and turning on the water, as cold as she could make it. She splashed her face in it over and over, but when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, all she saw was a red-faced woman who’d never rock the boat.

  When Amy came out of the bathroom, Irene was gone. She’d probably found one of the other bathrooms unoccupied, but Amy had thought of all sorts of questions to ask her—like, if Irene knew, was there a chance that Hope knew? But she didn’t want to wander through the entire house to find Irene, who may already be in bed. Amy swallowed, her mouth already dry, and ducked back into the bathroom for one more sip of cold water. Then, holding her toothbrush and toothpaste so hard her knuckles shone white against them, Amy crossed the hallway from the bathroom to Hope’s bedroom.

  She knew what she had to do.

  Amy knocked politely on the bedroom door before pushing it open. Hope was sitting up in bed, reading. She was in the only bed in the room.

  “Hey, Amy,” said Hope apologetically, setting the hardcover down in her lap. “I wanted to tell you, no one brought an extra air mattress, so you’ll have to…”

  Amy shook her head, cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry, Hope,�
� she said softly, “but I can’t sleep in here tonight.”

  Hope cocked her head quizzically to the side, glanced around the room. “Is there anything the matter with it?”

  “No…” Amy could hear the hurt in Hope’s voice, and miserably kept going. “It’s just…Melissa…” Amy cringed at using the dead woman as an excuse. An excuse that was a lie. She took another deep breath as Hope watched her. Amy closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to use Melissa as a lie, and perhaps telling the truth would be easier with her eyes tightly squeezed shut. “It’s because of how I feel about you,” she said then, voice a whisper. There. It was out.

  Amy almost stopped breathing when she heard the shift of the bed as Hope got up. Amy peeked, and her eyes flew open: Hope was coming toward her.

  “Would you come in, please?” asked Hope then, her voice low. Amy didn’t know what to do, so holding her toothbrush and toothpaste too tightly (that tube would never be the same again), she stepped forward and shut the door behind her.

  When Amy looked up at Hope, she breathed out in surprise. Because Hope was there, then, her body against Amy’s, pressing the slighter woman against the door.

  No words were exchanged.

  Only a kiss.

  Who started it, Amy could never say. She’d breathed out, and then there was a warm mouth against her own, strong hands at her waist, pushing up her pajama top to rest a bare palm against Amy’s skin. Amy wrapped her arms around Hope’s neck and drank the taller woman in, the sweet mint of the toothpaste that Hope used, the heat of her mouth and the strength of her lips as Hope kissed her soundly and deeply. Amy gasped, then, because Hope was kissing the line of her jaw, her lips trailing kisses down Amy’s neck as she arched her head back under Hope’s mouth, everything gone in her but feeling.

  And she felt everything. The way that Hope’s hands pulled up her shirt, pulled it off, in fact, though Amy had no memory of how that happened. The chill air of the room made Amy shiver, or maybe it was Hope’s mouth that made her tremble, because the woman was kissing her shoulder now, tongue tracing a pattern down her breastbone, down and down…