Rainbow Gap Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  What Reviewers Say About Lee Lynch’s Work

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Jaudon Vicker and Berry Garland are polar opposites yet know they are meant to be together. Growing up in steamy backcountry Central Florida, they fight each other’s battles: Berry protects boyish Jaudon from bullies, Jaudon gives the abandoned Berry roots. They pledge that nothing will part them, not a changing Florida nor a changing America, not Berry’s quest for her spiritual path, nor Jaudon’s ambition for her family's business. When the war in Vietnam, politics, police, rough times, society itself, and other women threaten to come between them, their bond grows deeper. In the safety of their secluded tree house hideaway, they learn to dream, dance—and to make love.

  What Reviewers Say About Lee Lynch’s Work

  “Author Lee Lynch offers readers so much: written with a gentle, almost stream-of-consciousness voice, [An American Queer] is partly memoir and partly LGBT history with a personal touch. Lynch’s essays are approachable, comfortable and enjoyable to read, and how she writes about the past is more relatable for casual readers, I think, than are similar books by academics.”—The Washington Blade

  “Lynch, whose novels, such as Old Dyke Tales and Sweet Creek, have won numerous awards, deserves to be in the pantheon of legendary lesbian journalists since her columns straddle the literary and the journalistic, always contemporary in their look at queer women’s culture and beyond”—The Advocate

  “An American Queer follows the tradition of ‘the personal is political’ in an accessible quick read, both heartfelt and gentle, that stays in the reader’s thoughts. It is recommended for all public and academic libraries.”—GLBT Reviews

  “Lee Lynch has not only created some of the most memorable and treasured characters in all of lesbian literature, she’s given us the added pleasure of having them turn up in each other’s stories. Beggar of Love ranks with Lee Lynch’s richest and most candid portrayals of lesbian life.”—Katherine V. Forrest, Lambda Literary Award-winning author of Curious Wine and the Kate Delafield series

  “Lee Lynch reads as an old friend, and in a way she is.”—Joan Nestle, Lambda Literary Award-winning author and co-founder of the Lesbian Herstory Archives

  “I’ve been a fan of Lee Lynch since I read her novel Rafferty Street many years ago. Her books—especially her deeply human characters—never disappoint. Beggar of Love is a story not to be missed!”—Ellen Hart, Lambda Literary Award-winning author of the Jane Lawless Mystery series

  “Sweet Creek is Lynch’s first book in eight years, and one that shows the maturing of her craft. In a time when much of lesbian writing is more about formula than finding the truths of our lives, she has written a breakthrough book that is evidence of her unique gifts as a storyteller and her undeniable talent in creating characters that move us and remain with us long after the final page is turned.”—Sacred Ground: News and Views on Lesbian Writing

  Sweet Creek “…is a textured read, almost epic in scope but still wonderfully intimate. Lynch, with a dozen novels to her credit dating back to the early days of Naiad Press, has earned her stripes as a writerly elder—she was contributing stories…four decades ago. But this latest is sublimely in tune with the times.”—Richard LaBonte, Q Syndicate

  “…the sweeping scope of Lynch’s abilities… The sheer quality of this work is proof-positive…that writing honestly from a place of authenticity and real experience is what separates literature from ‘books.’”—Lambda Book Report

  “[Lynch’s stories] go right to my heart, then stay and teach me…I think these are some of the most important stories in the dykedom.”—Feminist Bookstore News

  “Lee Lynch fills her stories with adventure, vision and great courage, but the abiding and overriding concept is love. Her characters love each other and we love them for caring.”—This Week in Texas

  “Lee Lynch explores the elements of survival, the complexities of defining community and the power of claiming our place…”—Gay & Lesbian Times

  “[Lee Lynch’s work] is a salute to the literary and bonding traditions of our lesbian past, as well as the acceptance we continue to demand and achieve within a larger society.”—The Lavender Network

  “Lee Lynch is a mature novelist who retains the freshness of outlook of a young writer. Her independent, self reliant women…are ever ready to face the challenges that all lesbians meet.”—Sarah Aldridge

  “[Lee Lynch’s] writing is a delight, full of heart, wisdom and humor.”—Ann Bannon

  “The highest recommendation I can give Lee Lynch’s writing is that you will not mistake it for anyone else’s. Her voice and imagination are uniquely her own. Lynch has been out and proudly writing about it for longer than many of us have been alive.…A good book can make the reader laugh, feel desire, and think, sometimes all in the same scene.”—Queer Magazine Online

  Rainbow Gap

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Rainbow Gap

  © 2016 By Lee Lynch. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-800-9

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: December 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Ruth Sternglantz

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Melody Pond

  By the Author

  From Bold Strokes Books

  Beggar of Love

  Sweet Creek<
br />
  The Raid

  An American Queer: The Amazon Trail

  Rainbow Gap

  From Naiad Press

  Toothpick House

  Old Dyke Tales

  The Swashbuckler

  Home In Your Hands

  Dusty’s Queen of Hearts Diner

  The Amazon Trail

  Sue Slate, Private Eye

  That Old Studebaker

  Morton River Valley

  Cactus Love

  From New Victoria Publishers

  Rafferty Street

  Off the Rag: Women Write About Menopause, Edited with Akia Woods

  From TRP Cookbooks

  The Butch Cook Book, Edited with Sue Hardesty and Nel Ward

  Acknowledgments

  Rainbow Gap has been many years in the making, and I have a multitude of people to thank for sustaining me in any number of ways.

  No one, of course, more than my treasured wife, Elaine Mulligan Lynch. Also Radclyffe, who I hold in the highest regard. And Ruth Sternglantz, an outstanding editor and my own personal Yoda.

  The late Cate Culpepper for the honor of using, with her permission, both her name and Kirby’s.

  My trusted early readers and listeners: Sue Hardesty, Nel Ward, Jane Cothron, and Elaine Lynch.

  Allison Mugnier, for her support of the Golden Crown Literary Society.

  Bold Strokes Staff: Sandy Lowe, Connie Ward, Toni Whitaker, Cindy Cresap, Stacia Seaman, Kathi Isserman, Paula Tighe.

  Shelley Thrasher, my teacher.

  Ann McMan, my literary cohort.

  Kiddo and Ally.

  My ever-supportive friends: Mercedes Lewis, Lori Lake, M.J. Lowe, Liz Gibson, Sandy Thornton, Patty Schramm, Nell Stark, Liz McMullen, KG MacGregor, Mavis and Heather, Karin Kallmaker, Mara Witzling, Mary Davidson, Mary Jane Lynch Hackler, Marilyn Silver, Katherine V. Forrest, Paula Offutt, Carol Feiden, John D. Bartola, Bobbie Weinstock, Sue Dart, Wendy Richardson, Rachel Spangler, Jackie Brown, Ellen Lewin, Mark McNease, VAB, Anne Laughlin, and Diane Anderson-Minshall.

  My family Dave, Betsy, Carolyn, and Chris Lynch.

  The Golden Crown Literary Society, Saints and Sinners Literary Festival, Lambda Literary, Recovering Hearts, and Womancrafts of Provincetown.

  And thank you every reader, for your emails and letters, for introducing yourselves at gatherings and for thanking me for writing our stories. I thank you for reading them.

  Some sources: Donald L. Bentz Collection, University of South Florida; MCFilm.co, http://www.mcfilm.co/bars-that-were-new/; Hillsborough County (FL) Public Library Cooperative; Tarpon Springs (FL) Public Library.

  Dedication

  For Elaine Mulligan Lynch

  You are

  My little bit of deity,

  All the love

  And all the light

  I can imagine.

  And

  In homage to the Spirit of Marcia Santee

  She wanted the Powers, the Great Spirit, both of which were Good/God, to help her find her own goodness.

  Prologue

  They started courting as schoolgirls in that fall of 1959, when they were eight.

  Berry and Jaudon held hands on the sandy path from bus to school, wearing thin, fresh-washed little girl dresses homemade for the Florida heat. They dilly-dallied in and out of the shade of oak and palm, past red hurricane lilies risen that very morning after a downpour.

  By then, Jaudon Vicker already worked at her family’s new business, The Beverage Bay. It wasn’t usual at the time for a girl of any age to work at a drive-thru beer and pop store, but Jaudon was far from a usual girl. Quick-tempered and scrappy, blessed with ungirlish strength and form, she’d also inherited her father’s talent for joshing, which kept the customers returning, the bullies mostly at bay, and masked her sore, bewildered, uncomfortable, different young self.

  Berry Garland was a poster Southern Christian girl, mild-mannered and polite. She was an eager student at school and had a sweet smile for everyone. She played as hard as a tomboy, but loved her Sunday go-to-church dress. Before she’d moved to Florida for good, she’d followed her ma and Grammy Garland through the house in Georgia, learning to fix meals, sew, and clean. She’d also followed her pa and Gramps around the yard and the garage and was taught how to change tires and shoot. Every night she recited her prayers.

  Berry’s last memory of her ma and pa was watching them drive down Stinky Lane away from Gran’s place on Pa’s motorcycle, Ma waving, dust rising between her and them. She couldn’t wait till they got set up and sent her an airplane ticket to join them. An airplane. California!

  Berry and Jaudon met on the bus that carried them to third grade.

  “Jaw-dun,” Jaudon told Berry. “You say my name jaw-dun. After Momma’s family.”

  Berry noticed that Jaudon always said Momma, not my momma, as if hers was the only mother in the world.

  Berry spent her first years on the Florida border in Georgia. Her speech was so muddy with drawl it took Jaudon months before she stopped asking, “What? What?” Slowly, Berry sounded more like the other kids. Though they lived close, they didn’t wait at the same bus stop, because the school didn’t want children walking over the railroad crossing on Eulalia Road.

  Berry’s hair was old-fashioned—dark, wavy, and thick. In the humidity it frizzed out and stayed out, resembling a living helmet, but beautiful. Her church wanted girls to wear their hair long even in the heat. Under the helmet was a pale, pale face, as if it was masked in powder. Makeup was against the church rules too. They hadn’t outlawed freckles yet and in the Florida sun they blossomed on Berry.

  The Vickers’ house was on the dry side of Eulalia Road at 12 Pineapple Trail in Rainbow Gap, Florida, where Jaudon grew up during country-and-western singer Tennessee Ernie Ford’s heyday in the 1950s. The house was set on a post-and-block foundation. Pops and Jaudon’s brother Bat connected the original two rooms, or pens, by enclosing the dogtrot, although Momma complained of missing the breezes that used to blow through. This enlarged the living room on one side and gave them space to install an indoor toilet and tub on the other.

  Up in the Vickers’ tree house, Jaudon and Berry giggled, imagining a hurricane sliding the old outhouse, barrel and all, far into the swamp to rot.

  The men connected the kitchen out back to the main house with a windowless, skinny hallway. The fireplaces and chimneys remained at the gabled ends of the main building. They put on a new tin roof and attached rails to the sun-bleached wood porch. The four wings added to the original structure, one square room at each corner, were the bedrooms. The ceilings were grayed pecky cypress. Home, to Jaudon, smelled of new wood and wet cement as much as it smelled of the red trumpet honeysuckle by the porch, cool air after a thunderstorm, and a pot of Pop’s swamp cabbage with bacon.

  The Garland family used to move back and forth between grandparents, so Jaudon and the tree house in the old live oak became constants for Berry. Her pa had a best friend named gambling. When he wiped out, Pa, Ma, and Berry returned to Grammy and Gramps Garland up in Georgia, or came down to stay with her mom’s mother, Gran Binyon, in the travel trailer behind Gran’s manufactured home. The small homestead was set in forested, swampy wetlands on a dirt road called Stinky Lane after the smelly mushrooms that thrust up through the soil by the hundreds around there a couple of times a year.

  Berry’s Binyon and Garland kin were connected way back when. Cowmen, including some Garland boys, came down from Georgia to let their cattle graze on grassy flatlands. They were called Georgia Crackers. In the early 1800s, the Binyons left Wales for America, migrating south over time until two grandsons found Rainbow’s Gap, as the settlement was first called, rowdy enough for their tastes.

  Jaudon and Berry spent a good chunk of their childhoods on the Vicker property in the tree house whose branches had a sixty- to eighty-foot spread over the long pond everyone called Rainbow Lake. Despite an occasional sulphur smell, Rainbow Gap kids dove to a hidden freshwater spring and a small und
erwater cave. Berry and Jaudon wouldn’t go in because of alligators. Instead, they played card games on an old wood bench half swallowed by reeds. There they heard the burble of the spring and watched ospreys and eagles follow their submerged prey, swoop and clutch large fish—or several small fish—in their talons.

  Jaudon made up stories of what might be hidden in a fissure of the cave, and of a secret swim path all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. She claimed there were manatees down there, nosing into warm spots. Berry said she didn’t believe a word of it, but she reckoned how it could be possible.

  When the Garlands were in Florida, Berry and Jaudon played, imagined, read, napped, laughed at the strutting peacocks and scurrying hens, cried over unfair punishments—and they were all unfair. In season they gobbled strawberries up in the tree house out of sticky reddened hands. Strawberry farms lay everywhere in drained fields. The girls were often covered with calamine lotion to treat the poison sumac they ignored as they played.

  Bat hid his transistor radio in the tree house when he joined up to drive trucks for the army. Jaudon happened on it, so they were able to listen to Mel Tillis, a country singer from their area, and to JoAnn Campbell and Pat Boone from North Florida. She also found Pops Vicker’s favorite station, with all the old big bands and singers. They listened so often to such tunes as “Some Enchanted Evening,” “White Christmas,” and “On the Sunny Side of the Street,” they knew the words.

  It wasn’t quite a tree house—more a shack on stilts leaning against the forty-one-foot oak: high stilts, twelve feet off the ground, reinforced by struts and camouflaged by the huge leaves of an elephant ear plant. They used a homemade ladder and pulled it away from the tree at night to keep varmints out. More than once Jaudon, who always checked before Berry went inside, found snakes and took a hoe to them from the top of the ladder.