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tension could have fried the eggs she’d left sitting on the counter. Finally I joined in with the radio, singing softly just to break the silence. “L’amour est enfant de bohéme, il n’a jamias connu de loi.”
    “That’s French,” Kathleen informed me.
    “Love is a gypsy child, he has never heard of law.” I translated, just to make a point, before I realized with no small irony how relevant that phrase was. It wasn’t lost on Kathleen, either.
    “Indeed,” she said, looking at me from the other side of the counter with an unreadable expression. I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that I had made that point on purpose. “Do you love Julie, Gail?” Kathleen asked suddenly, as if she’d been looking for that opening since we’d arrived and had finally found it.
    On its face, it was a fair enough question for a mother to ask of her daughter’s lover, so I decided to treat it as if it had been asked fairly. I set my mug down on the counter and looked at
    Kathleen. “Yes,” I said simply. Kathleen’s eyes seemed to be searching mine for something and I started to wonder in the moment of silence that followed if I’d missed something about her. “Julie is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, Kathleen,” I went on, in case she had any lingering doubts. “She’s my best friend, my crutch, my reality check. She’s my sunshine.”
    Kathleen studied me a moment longer and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were hazel like Julie’s, and the same shape. “I believe you,” she said softly, and turned away, reaching into a low cabinet to pull out a frying pan. “Omelet?”
    “I’m lesbian not a liar, Kathleen.”
    She turned on me and I saw a flash in her eyes that was reminiscent of Julie’s temper. “I’d have asked a man the same question,” she snapped and turned back to the stove, setting the frying pan on it.
    I dropped my head with a sigh and nodded, staring at the counter. Damn. I looked up again and blinked at Kathleen’s back before clearing my throat. “Sorry. Of course you would have. It was a fair question.”
    “I think it was.”
    “It was. Really. I’m just feeling defensive.”
    To her credit, Kathleen seemed to get it. “Me too.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. I think it was the first genuine smile I’d seen since we’d arrived. I smiled back and the tension was diffused by our embarrassed laughter.
    “I’d love an omelet,” I said finally. “You got mushrooms?”
    “In the refrigerator in the little drawer on the left,” Kathleen said, picking up eggs and cracking them into a glass measuring cup. I wasn’t sure what exactly just happened but suddenly I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in days. Kathleen and I didn’t say much more after that, but we whipped up breakfast quite amiably, and by the time Gareth, Julie and her brothers came down to join us we had eggs, muffins, fresh coffee and a plate of fruit on the table.
    Julie was wearing sweats and a soft cotton T-shirt and looked sleep-softened and so beautiful that I kissed her before she sat down at the table without thinking about it. She stiffened a little and then pulled away, and I realized with some discomfort that she wasn’t ready to be kissed in front of her parents.
    “Relax, baby,” I whispered.
    “You’ve been down here with my mother all morning?” she whispered back.
    “Yes, it’s fine, we made breakfast,” I assured her, but Julie looked doubtful. “Relax.”
    “All right you two, no whispering at the breakfast table,” Kathleen chimed in cheerfully. Julie glanced over at her mother and then back at me, her expression full of questions. I just smiled and winked at her.
    “I’ll get you some coffee,” I said, giving Julie’s arm a squeeze and then went to fetch the pot. I wish I hadn’t had my back turned for what happened next.
    I heard Kathleen clear her throat. “Lesbianlesbianlesbian,” she said clearly, if just a little bit rushed. I whirled