Author: JustSkipIt
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Willow and Tara and the Buffyverse.
Feedback: Please leave feedback on the Menorah Tales thread on the Kitten Board.

About a Year Later

Willow took a slow sip of her mocha and looked around the small coffee shop in the corner of the bookstore. She'd been to a lot of bookstores and was very impressed. G's Books as the large banner over the door and signs all around the place proclaimed had the small shop feel to it in spite of its impressive selection. She spent her first hours here browsing the Physics and then Engineering sections and found them to be pretty well stocked. They appeared to only have scientific works in English but the clerk who came by to ask if she could help assured Willow that they could order any book that was still in print. Her foray into fiction had brought up fond memories of her attempts (one successful, one cut short) to read the entire middle school and then high school libraries. Of course she would have finished the Sunnydale High School library if she hadn't left school early to attend college.

Yesterday was her first visit to G's Books but she already felt like the store itself was an old friend. Much of the light was natural and the few fluorescents were mild. The wood paneling was elegant but not dark so that the space felt large. The owners had obviously caved to market pressure to put in a small coffee shop where Willow now sat and nervously twisted her shirt hem. Exhaling deeply she forced herself to concentrate on her book and worry about later, well, later.

Concentrating on the small volume in her hands was a challenge in itself. Every page, every poem seemed to evoke a universe of memories. The few verses which didn't march through her memory gave her a different appreciation of the work. A few of the poems, "The Librarian" and "Slow Dancing" made her smile with their subtle humor. Others, "A Shovelful of Dirt" and "Words Once Spoken" literally brought tears to her eyes. She could feel the pain as if it were happening all over again while still admiring the perfection of the art. Willow wondered if other people reading these works would feel they knew Tara as she did. As she used to.

As she wanted to again.

Faith answered the phone loudly on the third ring. "This better be about an apocalypse." When Willow didn't speak, Faith prompted her. "Red?"

"Yeah."

Faith breathed deeply and Willow could hear her shifting the phone and moving around in her bed. "Do you know it's 2:45 in the morning?"

"Yeah." Willow ran her forearm across her nose and sniffled.

"Ok. You're calling me in the middle of the night. I'm guessing that it's not that you and Tara are lying in bed and you wanted me to be the first to hear that you're getting married?"

Willow smirked even though Faith couldn't possibly see her. "Good guess, Faith."

"So?"

"Where is she, Faith?" Willow set her jaw. "I know that I never asked before but I have to know. Where is she? Is she seeing anyone? Does she still think about me?"

Faith took a deep breath. "I love you, Red." She waited a few more seconds. "Are you safe?"

"Huh? Safe? Yeah. I'm SafeyMcSafe," she laughed.

Faith let out a similarly relieved laugh. "Ok. It's the middle of the night and our minds and hearts don't always work the same in the dark. Call me tomorrow and I'll give you the 4-1-1 on her."

Willow pouted for a few seconds. "Everything?"

"Everything, Willow. Now go to sleep."

"Ok. Good night, Faithy McFaith." Willow giggled.

"Good night, Willow McWill."

Faith was as good as her word when Willow called the next morning at 8:02, not that Willow had doubted it as she lay awake for the next five hours. But she felt it was finally time to find Tara. Yes she could have done a search for the blonde on the Net but she wanted to know some other details. As Willow's career progressed, her options laid out in front of her, she'd found it increasingly obvious that she couldn't make any decisions until she knew what her chances were, if there was any chance with Tara.

And now, Ms. Plan-Everything, Ms. Options-Confirmed and Fire-Exits located, sat in the coffee shop of a San Jose bookstore, counting the minutes until 7:00. The book was, simply put, brilliant. Willow had known for years how incredibly talented Tara was. Even when they were kids, her writing was amazingly powerful. But this... It was obvious that somewhere in the last three or four years, Tara had honed her writing skill. Willow lacked the vocabulary to property discuss or even understand the passion and expression of Tara's art. What she could understand was that Tara had found a way to whittle the point of her feelings to the exact word or expression which could cause the reader to feel it in her heart and soul.

She had read every poem at least four times. The blurb on the back cover was vague and highly complementary hinting at young genius, precocious talent, and emotional pain and loss. The small picture showed Tara in ¾ profile-a clear black and white photo that nearly made Willow's mouth water. She found herself stroking her fingertips over the blonde's eyelids, nose, and jaw line for minutes at a time. She remembered and forced herself (unsuccessfully) to not think about the times she'd done just that for real. It had been a guilty pleasure, then an obsession, and finally an inside joke between the two girls as Willow traced and traced her lover's features. "Sculpting" they both called it-Willow's lack of artistic talent fuelling the irony.

Even though the pamphlet announcing the reading clearly said that Tara worked at the store, Willow hadn't caught a glimpse of her ex-lover today nor yesterday. She hadn't felt that she could ask someone when the blonde would be in so she spent most of the day browsing, reading, and drinking coffee or mochas with the fantastic honey-sweetened muffins in the shop. She looked again at her watch to see that it was only 35 minutes until the reading. Although she'd planned very little about this visit-this ambush her mind kept accusing her-she did know that she wanted to join the reading just as it was about to start or just after it started and sit in the back. The last thing she wanted was to pull Tara's focus or throw off her delivery.

And what did she want? What did she think was possible? Would Tara smile, laugh, pull her into a tight embrace? Faith had sworn that Tara wasn't seeing anyone but did that mean that she would want to even talk to Willow? She'd been so so hurt, the last time they spoke.

And these poems. She knew the story behind "Words Once Spoken" or at least her story. She didn't know Tara's side until she'd read it. And there were other works here too that hinted at the darkness following their breakup. She smiled as she thought of a few poems that hinted at better times too. A very small part of her wanted to feel used to see their most intimate moments so clearly expressed on the page but the larger part wanted to stand on a table and point across the room shouting, "I did that! That's the woman I loved and I made her feel that way!" The woman you still love, her internal critic shouted back. The woman you should have followed across the ocean, should have followed out of the party, should have followed anywhere...

She wondered what she would say when they were alone. In a dream she'd seen it go so smoothly when she was honest and a little desperate:

Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard. You can't ever put them back the way they were. You know, it takes time. You can't just ... have coffee and expect... There's just so much to work through. Trust has to be built again, on both sides ... You have to learn if ... if we're even the same people we were, if you can fit in each other's lives. It's a long... important process, and ... can we just skip it? Can-can you just be kissing me now?

But this wasn't a dream. It was reality and reality meant that there were things to work through.

Did Tara want to work through anything? Would she be happy to see Willow or turn her back on the redhead?

6:48. Willow didn't know whether she wanted time to speed up or slow down. She stowed her book in her bag and made a trip to the bathroom, taking extra time to check her hair, her face, her appearance. She looked under the stalls to confirm that she was alone and faced the mirror. "Hi, Tara..." Her courage failed her. What would she say?

When she emerged from the bathroom it was a few minutes before seven. She nearly crept toward the reading area. The store had apparently done some rearranging for this event as a few bookcases were pushed closer together than would be useful. Forty to fifty chairs were lined up in front of a few facing chairs and a small table which held a bottle of water. Willow stood next to a bookcase and appraised the crowd-45 or so audience members-who seemed to all hold copies of the book. Most were young women and her gaydar was getting such heavy signals she felt like she needed to shut it off for the evening.

Even though Faith had sworn, had promised that Tara wasn't seeing anyone, Willow couldn't help but wonder. What if one of these girls were Tara's girlfriend? Her-Willow could hardly even think the word-lover? Maybe Tara was seeing someone and hadn't told Faith about it. It wasn't impossible.

Tara stood to the side of the stage area. Really there was no stage; it was just the chair and table and water bottle in a cleared area facing the audience. She was speaking to two other women quietly. Her hair was darker than Willow had ever seen it. Willow remembered when Tara was young, how she would put lemon juice in her hair before going out in the sun to lighten it. Apparently she had given up on that habit. Now her hair was almost light brown, the length past her shoulders. It was pulled back by a pewter hair clasp that Willow recognized as belonging to Tara's mother. That clasp was the only part of Tara's outfit the redhead had seen before. Tara wore a long-sleeve blouse of a brilliant royal blue and a khaki skirt with embroidery along the hemline. On her feet were a pair of brown sandals and her ears were adorned with a pair of small silver earrings with some sort of bauble hanging down an inch or so. Much as the fantasy appealed to the redhead, Willow was pretty certain that walking up and stroking the earrings was not going to be a successful approach.

The conversation between Tara and the other two women broke up and one of them stepped to the podium. Willow quickly slid into a seat on the aisle in the second row from the back. The girl next to her shifted her backpack to rest it against the other leg of her chair and gave the redhead a slow look up and down.

"Hello everyone. Thank you for coming." The woman at the podium had a nice speaking voice that resonated through the close space. "I am Gay Treanert, the owner of G's books. I have the very special honor tonight of introducing a poet, writer, and friend-- Tara Maclay." Willow joined in the applause at the mention of Tara's name.

"Before Tara takes the podium to read a few of her very powerful poems," Gay explained, "Please know that she will be reading for about 30-40 minutes. Then she will be signing copies of this her first publication which is available at the display near the registers."

For a few minutes Gay read from the initial reviews for Tara's freshman effort. Willow attempted to concentrate on the woman's words but she'd read them herself earlier in the day and really could only concentrate on watching Tara. The blonde looked a little nervous but not nearly what the girl Willow once knew would have been. In fact, Tara looked downright calm compared to the butterflies swarming around Willow's GI tract. So far it was obvious that Tara hadn't noticed her ex-girlfriend in the crowd and Willow didn't know what would happen when she did. She was starting to really question her plan to just show up. What if it completely threw Tara off in her reading? She didn't want to ruin Tara's big day.

When Gay completed her introduction and announced "our own Tara Maclay," Tara walked slowly over to the podium, stopping to accept a hug from the store's owner on the way. The applause was louder than before and it seemed to Willow that Tara stood a little straighter and walked taller as she heard the sound. She sipped from her water bottle before turning to face the audience.

"Thank you for coming tonight," she began as she let her eyes drift over the audience. She seemed to hold eye contact with most of the audience members for a moment or two and Willow wondered if it were an intentional act meant to involve her listeners on an emotional level. She also felt her heart-rate speed up when she realized that Tara would be scanning the entire crowd. She would see Willow and then what? What would she think?

Willow noticed immediately the change in Tara's voice. It seemed slightly deeper, less childlike than she remembered it. More unfamiliar was the accent. Although she could still detect Tara's California accent, it now seemed to be mixed with a touch of an English accent. Apparently her time in England had colored, or coloured she laughed to herself, Tara's voice.

Willow glanced at her hands, twisting the flyer announcing Tara's reading into a small and smaller ball in her lap before returning her gaze to the woman at the podium. Tara's mouth dropped open slightly as she spotted Willow. Their eyes locked but only for a second before she continued scanning the crowd. In that second, Willow couldn't tell Tara's response to her presence. Was she mad? Confused? Excited? She didn't know.

"I would like to read a few of the poems from this book and then I have a few new ones to share with you," Tara began.

Willow leaned forward in her chair as Tara looked at the papers in her hand. Apparently she had brought some speaking and reading notes. Having never been to a poetry reading, Willow wondered idly how one would decide which works to read and in what order. How had Tara learned this skill? When?

The blonde began with a fun poem called "Pistachio." It seemed to be simply enough about a random afternoon trip to get ice cream. It was impossible to determine whether the speaker was a child or adult but the passion for the treat was unmistakable. When she finished, the laughing, happy crowd, applauded.

"It's hard to decide which poems to read," she confessed to the audience.

"That Curve of your Hip," a woman sitting a few chairs to Willow's right shouted playfully.

Tara laughed a little nervously and smiled at the audience. "Someone always wants to hear that one. I wonder why." The crowd chuckled along with her.

"I guess I can accommodate a request." She winked as she said it and then launched into a very steady reading of the work. Willow could feel the blush rising in her cheeks and noted that Tara had glanced her way two or three times throughout the reading. She wondered how Tara could say those words without feeling embarrassed. The girl she once knew was shy about holding hands in public. She finished the poem to greater applause than the previous work.

Tara didn't pause before introducing her next reading. "When I was fifteen, my mother passed away." A silence fell over the crowd as she spoke and Willow began to wonder if the blonde were weaving some sort of spell. Not a true spell, an enchantment, but she seemed to be fully controlling the emotional construct of the group. She'd taken them to funny and nostalgic to extremely sexy and now was going for heart-wrenching honesty. Throughout her reading of "One Shovelful of Dirt" Willow swore she could hear a pin drop in the room. Even though she had read the poem more times than she could count today, she felt hot tears in her eyes and falling down her cheeks. From the sniffles when Tara finished the reading, she knew that she wasn't the only person so affected by Tara's art.

The remainder of the reading passed quickly, more quickly than Willow could have imagined. When Tara finished, thanking the audience profusely, Willow let out a long breath. The crowd began to mill forward as Tara took a seat behind the small desk with a pen. A few audience members drifted off but nearly all of them brought their copies of the book and asked her to sign them. Willow waited and watched, noticing the casual and comfortable way Tara spoke with each visitor. While some only stayed a few seconds, other women visited for minutes and Willow felt jealous in spite of herself at the way Tara laughed with them.

Finally seeing that the crowd was thinning out, Willow steeled herself for the meeting. By the time she reached the front of the room, Tara had already stood up from the table. Gay and the other woman had joined her and were hugging her and shaking her hand. The redhead waited as Tara spotted her out of the corner of her eye but before Tara could speak, Gay also spotted her. "Look, Tara, another fan." She chuckled and winked at the redhead. "She must be a fan. She's been here nearly all day."

Tara tilted her head for a moment as if trying to understand what Gay was saying. "You've b-b-been here all d-d-day?"

Willow glanced over to note the shocked look on Gay's face. She hadn't heard Tara stutter throughout the reading and had assumed that the girl had outgrown or trained herself out of it. But apparently the stutter wasn't completely gone.

"Your book is brilliant, Tara." She looked at her feet and inhaled again. "Just. I mean..."

"You... you came?"

Willow shrugged and reached forward to touch Tara's hand before realizing the folly of the motion. "It's your first book."

Gay looked back and forth between the two girls as if trying to understand what was going on. Seeing that no explanation was immediately forthcoming she extended her hand. "I'm Gay Treanert."

Willow looked at the hand in front of her and took it in her own. "Willow Rosenberg. Very pleased to meet you."

"The Curve of Your Hip," Gay said with a teasing smile as she came to the obvious conclusion.

Willow blushed and looked down at her feet. It was one thing to have that poem "out there" but to have someone put two and two together and realize that it was about her, about her and Tara was just, well, kind of embarrassing. At least she hadn't mentioned "Words Once Spoken." "I'm not trying to embarrass you, Willow," Gay said. "Look, some of us are taking Tara out tonight to celebrate the book. Why don't you come?"

Willow glanced up at Tara to see the blonde's eyes bug out slightly as if she couldn't believe that her friend had just invited her ex-lover out with them. It seemed that Tara didn't want her there. Maybe this was a mistake. She just didn't know. "Can you give us a second?" Willow asked Gay.

The shop owner smiled warmly at the two women. "Sure." She turned to Tara. "You were fantastic, sweetie. We've got reservations at the usual place at 8:30." Tara nodded and Gay gave her a quick hug before gliding away to visit with some customers.

"Look, Tara," Willow said in a rush, "I'm ... I mean I would love to talk but, I mean, I I I'm going to be here for a few days so if you want to just, you know, visit with your friends tonight. You know, celebrate? I totally and completely and did I say totally understand."

Tara bit at her bottom lip for a moment and Willow glanced at the blonde's hands. They held a copy of the pamphlet advertising her reading and the redhead noted that it was in approximately the same shape as the one she had held throughout. "W... W-why don't you come? I mean if you would like?"

Willow lifted her eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Tara's voice sounded a little hesitant. "Yes." Then she smiled a twinkle in her eye and spoke more authoritatively. "Yes." She waved her hand to indicate that they should go ahead to the restaurant and Willow fell into step beside her. "Besides, I've been getting teased about the Curve poems for years. Tonight you can see what it's like."

Willow turned her head, seeing the teasing look on Tara's face and the way she held her teeth at the tip of her lips. It was a new expression and one that she immediately decided she liked. Although she didn't know how Tara felt about their relationship, what relationship? or even how she felt about Willow being here, the blonde's teasing made her relax slightly.

A half an hour and many directions and confused looks on her part later, Willow stood in the foyer of a small restaurant. She was just about to approach the hostess and ask if Tara and her friends were here when Gay, another woman, and a young girl came in the door behind her. "Willow," Gay greeted her warmly, "this is my partner Joanne and this is our daughter, Grace." She turned to her partner and explained, "This is Tara's friend Willow. She came to the reading tonight and I invited her to join us."

"Nice to meet you," both Joanne and Grace said. Willow shook Joanne's hand before stooping down in front of the girl she estimated to be about ten. "Nice to meet you, Grace." She extended her hand and Grace shook it.

"You're Tara's friend?"

Willow smiled at the little girl. "We haven't seen each other lately but I think we're friends."

Grace smiled back. "Then you're my friend too. Do you want to sit by me?"

Willow stood up and extended her hand to take Grace's. "Since I don't really know anyone that would be nice. Thanks for asking."

Before they started walking Grace turned to her moms. "I'm going to sit with Willow and keep her company, ok?"

Both women smiled at their daughter and at each other. "That sounds very nice, baby girl."

Grace pulled Willow along until they reached a table which had Tara at the head and six or seven other women sitting near her. The redhead smiled at Tara who smiled back but continued her conversation with the girl sitting next to her. "Here are two seats," Grace said with excitement as she touched two chairs near the other end of the table.

Willow sat by the girl and opened her menu. Then she leaned toward Grace. "What is good here?

Willow followed Grace's dining advice and they both munched on the chips as they waited for their dinner. Joanne came over to say hello again and check that Grace wasn't "bugging" the redhead but Willow assured her that she was enjoying it. The hostess had given the third-grader a paper and crayons which Grace found insulting but Willow pulled a few different colored pens from her bag and extended them.

Willow found that the evening passed quickly. She was having fun with Grace, drawing boxes and buildings in perspective while Grace suggested unusual additions like puppies on windowsills and trees growing on the balustrades. After a while, Willow handed Grace the pens and the young girl drew for her while Willow made colorful suggestions. Each time she looked up, she noted that Tara was involved in a conversation but she was relieved to see that when she caught the blonde's eye, Tara smiled at both Willow and Grace. Seeing that Willow was looking at Tara, Grace informed the redhead, "I'm going to marry her when I grow up."

Willow smiled at the young girl and restrained a chuckle. "That's what I always thought too."

Grace knitted her eyebrows together and pursed her lips. "I don't think we can both marry her."

Willow pursed her lips back and nodded her head. "I think you're right. What do you think we should do about it?"

Grace considered the question seriously. "Do you know how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "I was only Sunnydale Junior High eighth grade Rock, Paper, Scissors champion."

Before they could throw their first plays in what they'd agreed would be a best-of-fifteen series, Willow felt Tara tap her shoulder and then saw the blonde kneel down by her chair. "Hi."

Grace leaned forward quickly and hugged Tara tightly. "Tara, you wrote a book. That's so good!"

Tara settled back onto her heels. "Thanks you and thank you for the flowers. Your mom said you picked them out."

Grace bounced in her seat slightly. "I know you like daisies."

"I do," Tara agreed and looked at the drawing covered paper on the table. "Have you been keeping Willow entertained for me?"

"I have," Grace told her proudly.

"Well I really appreciate it because she doesn't know anyone else here." The blonde lightly touched Willow's knee as she spoke.

"We've been having a great time," Willow said with a smile at Tara and a wink at Grace. "In fact we were just about to have a little Rock, Paper, Scissors contest."

Tara laughed. "Did you tell her you were Sunnydale Junior High School champion in eighth grade?"

"Of course." Willow nodded at Grace. "I don't want her to lodge a protest after I win this contest."

"You're not going to win," Grace said with a very serious look on her small face.

Willow laughed. "What are you two playing for?" Tara asked innocently.

"We can't tell you but it's very important," Willow said.

"Yeah," Grace agreed with a giggle.

Tara looked back and forth between the two girls. "Something tells me I should be concerned." When Grace giggled more she smiled at the girl and winked. She touched Willow on the knee again. "We won't be here that much longer."

"Ok," Willow said glancing at the floor.

"Do you ... want to come over and have a cup of t-tea or something after we leave?" Tara offered.

Willow's eyes shot back up and she smiled broadly. "Yes. Yes. Definitely. That would be nice and did I say yes already?"

"Ok, I'm going go back to my seat. You two stay out of trouble ok?" Tara said leaning over to give Grace a kiss on the cheek.

Willow watched Tara return to her seat and then looked back at Grace. "Ok, our tournament..." Willow counted to three and they both shot their fingers. The redhead won the first but was easily able to intentionally lose since she realized very quickly that Grace always shot the option that would have beaten Willow's last offering.

When they finished their competition, Joanne came over to interrupt them. "Gracie, we need to go home and get you ready for bed." She turned to Willow. "I hope you had a good evening."

Willow smiled at both mother and daughter. "I had a great time." Grace slid from her seat and gave Willow a hug which the redhead returned before standing up to shake Joanne's hand.

As Grace ran over to tell Tara goodbye again Joanne leaned forward to whisper. "You're Tara's Willow?"

Willow glanced over at her ex-girlfriend who was standing to say goodbye to Grace, Gay, and some other friends. "I'd say that depends on Tara," she confessed.

Joanne grinned at the redhead's answer. "Then good luck, Willow Rosenberg," Joanne said leaning forward to give the girl a hug.

After Joanne, Gay, and Grace left, Willow excused herself to visit the restroom. When she returned, she saw that Tara was the only person still at the table. The blonde stood up to meet her coming across the floor. "Do you w-want to follow me?"

Anywhere, Willow thought but what she said was, "Sure. That would be great."

Tara gave her directions and at Willow's urging they exchanged cell phone numbers also in case they became separated in the darkness and traffic.

Twenty minutes later Willow exited her car and followed Tara up the walk to a small duplex. She looked at the facing of the building, admiring it and stopped to smell the potted flowers on the porch. "This seems nice."

"Thanks, Willow," Tara said as she opened the door. "I've been here for about six months and I was very lucky to find it."

Willow stepped through the door behind her ex-lover and looked hungrily around the apartment. Having been away from Tara for so long, she felt almost like anything she could see, any information she could glean would make her feel closer to the woman. Her visual perusal of the room was interrupted by Tara's voice. "I need to visit the restroom." She blushed as she continued, "I didn't at the restaurant."

"Of course," Willow smiled. Left alone she continued to look around the room. On the dining room table stood three vases of flowers. She smelled them each in turn.

Her investigation was interrupted by Tara's voice as the blonde returned. "The roses are from Faith and Giles; the tulips from friends in England; and, the carnations are from your parents." Willow smiled and nodded and Tara held up the daisies Grace had given her. "Speaking of which, I should get these into water."

Willow turned her back to the flowers as she watched Tara walk through a door, obviously into the kitchen. As her eyes followed the blonde, she noticed a small shelf on the wall. She stepped toward the shelf, recognizing with a smile a familiar object. She picked it up gently noticing again the nice workmanship on the Willow tree and the fact that there was wax on half of it.

Tara returned a minute or two later with a new vase and set it the coffee table. "I started a pot of water for tea."

"When did you light the menorah?" Willow asked as she reset it on the shelf.

Tara smiled. "Just before I came to the shop."

Willow reached into her bag, unsure how to bridge the uneasy silence. "I realized you never wrote anything in my book for me." She extended it toward the blonde.

Tara approached with a knowing smirk on her face. "Yes, I did, Willow."

"I'm not here to fight but I think I would have noticed if you had written in it. I've had it all day," Willow said with a puzzled look on her face.

Tara smiled widely as she took the book from her ex-lover. "You never would read the title pages, Willow." She held out the book so that Willow could see the dedication:

For Willow and every one of our Stars