Chapter 1

Rebirth is a story I started three years ago. The pandemic was still fresh and relevant to the story but I wasn’t happy with the timing and set it aside. It wasn’t intended to be part of the Gabby’s universe, and nothing here links into any of the current stories – yet. But the upcoming stories could have a neat tie back to it, so I decided to brush the mothballs aside. Three years later, the timing works.

Thanks to THBGato for beta reading at short notice with a busy schedule, especially for insights into contemporary English English.

Warning: long. At about 36K words, this is almost twice the length of any non-series story I’ve written, but I really didn’t want to break it up into a series. And since I’m adding warnings:

Trigger Warning: death, loss of a loved one, grief

An October breeze created marionettes from fallen maple leaves, skirling beneath the large tree, which bore sequins of red and gold within its green. Below the overhang of its branches rested a small yellow-painted apartment. The breeze twisted strands of copper hair, fugitives from her hasty knot, across Lauren’s face. She brushed them aside before ringing the doorbell.

With only an ad and impersonal text messages to guide her, Lauren knew no more of the landlord than a name, Fujita. She masked her surprise when the door was opened by a young woman. Dark, slightly upturned eyes observed her. Straight black hair grazed the shoulders of her red tee. Her face was narrow, with a sharply-pointed chin. The tee hinted at small breasts, and held an image of a fox playing a video game. Faded jeans clung tightly to slender legs, meeting bright pink knit socks.

There was something about the woman’s eyes that gave her pause. She couldn’t decide what it was. It seemed out of keeping with the attractive woman’s quite jolly presentation.

“Ms. Graham?” the woman asked. Lauren hadn’t realized how distracted she’d been by the woman’s appearance. “I’m Mika. Mika Fujita. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Lauren offered her hand, which the woman accepted with a gentle squeeze, her palm dry. She gave her a nod. She’d introduced herself first by her given name, so she did the same. “Lauren.”

Mika’s returned nod as she released her hand seemed to form a small bow. She stepped aside for Lauren to enter.

“I hope I made it clear that I’m not looking for myself,” Lauren said, as she moved past the woman into a room that was surprisingly large, extending to windows and French doors on the far side of the apartment. Daylight at both ends of the room gave it an airy feel. “Oh, this is nice,” she said.

“You’re acting for your friend Mandy,” Mika responded. “I hope that she will be pleased.”

“Would it be okay if I take photos to send to her?” Lauren asked.

“Of course,” replied the landlord, with a smile.

The French doors looked out over a large grassy yard. The main house, painted in a yellow matching the apartment, was a good distance away. In the center was a circular table with a verdigris finish. Closer to the house, a tiered bird bath fountain sparkled. The flower beds were well-tended, with small bushes, pale gold chrysanthemums, and flowers Lauren couldn’t identify in shades of mauve. On the far side of the yard from the fountain, water trickled from a bamboo frame into a wooden tub.

“If it wasn’t so painful to move, I think I’d want this for myself,” Lauren said.

“You live nearby?” Mika asked.

“Yes, I have a small house,” Lauren replied. “I mean, it’s not bad, but it has no character. I think Mandy will love this place.”

“She is a friend?” Mika asked. “Or a client, perhaps?”

“Friend,” Lauren offered. “I’ve known her since high school. She was my first girlfriend.”

Mika’s eyes widened in surprise.

Lauren grinned. “If it seems strange that I’m still friends with an ex, let me assure you that I am not friends with the bitch who walked out on me two years ago.” Mika’s lips twitched into a quickly-suppressed grin. “Mandy and I weren’t right for each other, but she’s a genuinely nice person. You’ll like her.”

“I look forward to meeting her,” Mika said. “Mandy, that is. Not the last one.”

Her expression was solemn, but a touch of irony in her tone when she said “Not the last one” led Lauren to hear “Not the bitch.” Lauren’s lips twitched in amusement.

The more she heard Mika speak, the more perplexed she found herself. She hadn’t been surprised, given the young woman’s name and appearance, that her accent wasn’t local, but it was dawning on her that she sounded neither American nor Japanese. She sounded English, with the kind of cultured accent she would hear on the BBC. A deeper-voiced Hermione Granger.

The apartment was ideal. She was certain that Mandy would agree. With windows in the bedroom and French doors in the living room both looking over the center of the large, grassy lot, it could be made into a very attractive small home.

When the tour concluded, Mika opened the French doors. Fall-scented air drifted into the room. “I thought to offer you tea in the garden when you have finished looking at the flat,” she said. “If you think your friend will be interested, we can discuss the details.”

She stepped up to the doors, then through them. She looked toward the center table and smiled. “I’d like that,” she said.

“I’ll meet you in the garden when you’re ready,” Mika said. She returned to the front door, slipping her feet into flats before she left.

Lauren had probably erred by not removing her pumps. She doubted that Mika was especially concerned about a rental unit that she’d have little control over, but it would have been polite.

The ground was slightly spongy beneath her feet. A patchy layer of green and golden maple leaves clung damply to the grass. A faint scent of woodsmoke suggested that a neighbor had lit a wood-burning fireplace. She was studying one of the flowerbeds when she noticed Mika crossing the yard with a tray, and moved to join her at the table.

“The flowers are beautiful,” Lauren said. “The whole yard is very pleasant. It’s hard to believe how deep within the city we are here. I’m totally jealous of the view that Mandy will have through the French doors.”

Mika gave a shy nod. “Thank you,” she said, as she unloaded the tray. She poured clear, pale tea into two delicate cups, moving one across to Lauren, then presented her with a plate of clearly homemade cookies. As her eyes were on her work, Lauren took the opportunity to study her face again.

The woman wore no makeup that Lauren could see. Her narrow face was smooth, though subtle lines around her eyes might imply that she was older than Lauren had thought. Perhaps into her thirties. Her unpainted lips were pale. Without being the target of her gaze, the strange disconnect between the melancholy in her eyes and the energy of her clothing wasn’t clear…

Melancholy! That was it. Without being aware of the puzzle, it seemed that Lauren’s mind had continued to dwell on the look in Mika’s eyes. Was she hiding the feeling with her fox tee shirt and tight jeans?

And now Lauren had spent so long congratulating herself for identifying the expression that Mika had finished setting out the refreshment, and was looking directly at her. Had been for several seconds, perhaps.

“Oh!” Lauren felt her cheeks warm. “Sorry. I was miles away. Um. This all looks delightful. Thank you!”

Her phone pinged as she picked up a cookie. “Excuse me,” she said. “This is probably her.”

Instead of text, there was a string of heart emojis. Lauren laughed, then said, “I think she wants the place,” turning the phone so that Mika could see. She smiled, then nodded at the phone when it pinged with a follow-up message reading, “Yes, please.”

“I will email her to get personal details,” Mika said. “I’ll need to run a credit check.”

“Yes, of course,” Lauren said. “She has good credit, and references. There won’t be any issue.”

“You have stayed close since you ended your relationship?” Mika asked.

“Yes,” Lauren replied. “It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Not at first. We split up when we went to different colleges, and we each blamed the other. Then, as we met other people, we began to realize that we had never really worked well. We reconnected and have been best friends ever since.”

“I’m glad for you,” Mika said, with a genuine smile.

“Did you build the apartment as a rental?” Lauren asked.

Mika shook her head, and she looked off into the distance. “No,” she said. “I think it dates from the eighties, so it isn’t as old as the house, but we didn’t build it. It’s one of the reasons we took the place. I used it as my studio. I have a business office now, and I’m alone in the house. I hate to see it wasted.”

Lauren wondered at the change between the “we” of the purchase and “alone in the house.” Mika wore no rings. Perhaps there had been a partner? She hadn’t seemed at all shocked by Lauren’s revelation that her exes were girls, and Lauren had a faint inkling that Mika might also be a lesbian, though her gaydar had been spectacularly and embarrassingly wrong in the past. She was also a very reserved person, and hard to read, so Lauren guessed that she might be indulging in wishful thinking, because there was no question that the woman was attractive.

Mika’s potential ex wasn’t a topic of conversation, though, unless she introduced it, so Lauren took the other opening she offered. “What kind of studio?” she asked. “You’re an artist?”

“Photographer,” Mika replied. “I’m a wedding photographer by profession. I’ve sold a few art prints, but it will be a long time before I can claim that I have any success in that area.”

“May I see some?” Lauren asked.

Mika smiled briefly, but her eyes didn’t meet Lauren’s, looking into the distance again. “Another time, perhaps,” she said. “It would be difficult.”

“You sound English,” Lauren said. She cringed inwardly at the predictable comment, but would ignoring such an obvious fact be even more shallow? “I hope I’m not being rude, because I’m sure you get asked all the time, but did you grow up in the UK?”

“I did, though my family lives in Japan now,” Mika said. “I didn’t follow them.”

“How long have you been in the States?” Lauren asked.

She glanced into the distance again, then answered. “Nine years, now. Somehow I don’t think I’ve gained much of an accent. But please, tell me about Lauren. You’re from here, I think.”

“I’m much less interesting, I’m afraid,” Lauren said. “I moved here for college, and never left. I deal with my parents better when there’s five hundred miles between us. Uh, I work as a commercial loan officer. I can put a date to sleep without even trying.”

“Do you find it interesting?” Mika

“I do,” she said, “though challenging might be a better word. Reading between the lines of audit reports and annual financials isn’t for everyone.”

“That is what’s important,” she stated. “But I wonder what you talk about if you don’t want your date to fall asleep.”

“I like to travel, though I’ve never been outside the States,” Lauren replied. “So I guess I can hold my own in local and regional lore, and in fantasy books and movies. I like all kinds of music. Women, of course,” she added with a slight smile, which Mika returned. Perhaps she hadn’t guessed wrong.

“Does all kinds of music extend to classical?” Mika asked.

Lauren’s eyes widened. “It does! Are you a classical music lover? That rarely comes up as an option.”

Mika’s smile was genuine. “I used to play cello. It’s a topic very close to my heart.”

Lauren had a vision of her in white blouse and black skirt, intense emotion on her face as she sawed on the strings. Her fantasy may have shown on her face, because Mika’s eyes caught hers, and though she quickly looked away her cheeks seemed to have picked up a little color.

Lauren was becoming sure that her suspicion was correct, and just possibly her initial attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided. Or maybe that was yet more wishful thinking.

They sat at the table until the late afternoon breeze began to turn cool, and the tea was completely finished. The cookies were long gone. Mika seemed as reluctant to end the conversation as Lauren. Still, she couldn’t monopolize the woman’s time. Lauren thanked her for her hospitality, and Mika let her know that she’d be emailing Mandy shortly.

Lauren stood to leave, but she couldn’t just walk away. She spoke before she realized that she would.

“Could I see you again?” Lauren blinked in surprise at her own words. “Maybe we could get coffee? Tomorrow? Just in case I need to contact Mandy, or have any questions from her, maybe?” she finished lamely.

Mika held her eyes for a daring second. She must suspect the excuse for the obvious pretense that it had been, and there might be amusement in her expression. There was something else, though, something not entirely comfortable with the idea. But as she looked away, she nodded. She could easily have turned Lauren down with no embarrassment. She’d even given her a good justification, since Mika clearly didn’t need her to act as a go-between, when she could contact Mandy directly. So she could only have agreed because she wanted to.

“Yes, alright,” she said. “Text me.”

“Fujita.” The voice was impersonal, businesslike, but Lauren recognized it.

“Hello, uh, Mika. This is Lauren. Graham. We met yesterday?” Damn, she sounded like an idiot.

The voice warmed immediately. “Hello, Lauren,” it said.

“Hi,” Lauren replied. “Uh, listen. Could I buy you coffee somewhere? I want to ask how everything’s going, and see if there’s anything more I can do to help?”

“Everything’s fine, Lauren.” Mika reassured her. “I don’t think there is.” Her tone implied that she was going to add more, so Lauren waited, and after a beat she said, “But if you want to meet, alright. Where and when?”

Lauren suggested a coffee shop near Mika’s place at one-thirty.

As soon as they’d hung up, Lauren felt nervous. She’d only been on two dates since her breakup, and both were awkward affairs. Not that this was a date. Maybe, just possibly, it might lead to one, if she hadn’t completely misread Mika.

There was a peony lipstick that she felt complemented her copper hair and hazel eyes. She’d promised herself that she’d wear it on a date one day, which meant that she’d barely touched it, but she’d wear it today. On her last date, her hair had brushed the nape of her neck. Now it lay in waves down to her shoulder blades. She slipped a long cardigan over a white scoop neck tee, with faded jeans and cowboy boots.