Crossroads

Chapter Six

At the sound of a familiar voice just outside her cubicle, Honor paused in the middle of giving discharge instructions. The deep, throaty timbre was unmistakable and never failed to stir her. Refocusing on her young patient and his mother, she said, “And no swimming while that cast is on, all right?”

“What will happen?” the six-year-old asked, his eyes alight with some inner vision Honor was afraid to contemplate. She sensed a wily mind at work.

“The cast will fall off and your mom or dad will have to bring you back here so I can put on a new one.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if the cast stays on. Your wrist needs to rest so it can heal.”

“Like a nap?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m too big for a nap.”

“I see that. Which is why we made it so just your wrist can sleep.”

“I almost made it to the top of the jungle gym. Julie and I were racing. She usually wins but I’m getting faster.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Honor saw the mother’s resigned shake of her head and sympathized. “I imagine you’ll catch her one day soon, but no climbing until you’re better. You need two hands on the jungle gym, right?”

“Yeah.” His bright, lively eyes scanned the room as if searching for new challenges.

“Okay, we’re done.” She smiled at his mother. “He should be fine tonight. If his fingers swell more than they are now or the cast starts to look tight, you should bring him back so we can adjust it.”

“Does he need a sling?”

“The nurses will give him one when you leave,” Honor said, “but don’t rely on it. Just remind him not to dangle it, and prop his forearm up on a couple of pillows when he goes to bed.”

“And if he gets it wet?” the mother whispered when her son wandered over to the enclosing curtain and stuck his head out.

“As long as he doesn’t soak it, it will probably be fine, but let’s make that our secret.”

“Absolutely. Thanks so much.”

“You’re very welcome.” Honor signed off on the paperwork and handed it to the mother. “Schedule an appointment in a month with an orthopedist. They’ll take off the cast and x-ray his wrist. Until then, there’s nothing you have to do unless for some reason you’re concerned. Then by all means, make a follow-up appointment earlier.” She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You be careful, now.”

“Thanksbye.” The boy raced out through the curtain and the mother hastily pulled it aside to follow.

Honor listened to the thump of running footfalls, marveling at the resilience of children. The curtain twitched aside again, and she expected the mother to return, but she was mistaken. Her heart gave a little jump as Quinn stepped in and closed the curtain.

“Hi.” Quinn kissed Honor a little longer than necessary for hello. “Busy?”

Honor traced the edge of the vee in Quinn’s scrub shirt, letting her fingers drift over the skin of Quinn’s chest. No matter how many times she touched her, she was still astounded by the miracle of loving her. “Steady, all pretty routine. What are you doing down here?” She mentally sorted through the list of patients up on the board and couldn’t remember one that might need a trauma consult. “Did something come in just now? I didn’t hear an alert.”

“No.” Quinn slid an arm around Honor’s waist, rested her hips against the treatment table, and tugged Honor close. “Just wanted to steal a minute with you.” She kissed her again.

Laughing, Honor rested her cheek on Quinn’s shoulder. “You can steal as many minutes as you want, but you’ll have to collect them at home tonight.”

“Hmm,” Quinn said, resting her chin on top of Honor’s head. “I’ve got karate practice with Arly tonight, remember?”

“That’s right. And Jack has a sleepover at Robin and Linda’s. I promised I’d take the early shift in case he wants to come home.”

“So there goes the night.”

Honor kissed Quinn’s throat. “There’s always later-later.” Quinn chuckled, the vibrations spreading through Honor’s cheek and settling somewhere south of her diaphragm. Even contemplating their lack of alone time made her happy, when it was family time taking up the evening. “I love you.”

Quinn stroked Honor’s hair. “I love you too. I should let you get back to work.”

“You should.” Honor leaned back and traced the muscles in Quinn’s chest. “Don’t forget we have the barbecue at Linda and Robin’s Sunday. You switched call, right?”

“I did. And I saw Linda leaving just now—she said to remind you to bring your macaroni salad.”

“I’m on it,” Honor said. “They’re definitely planning on a natural birth at home, by the way.”

“You sound like you don’t approve.”

Honor sighed. “It’s not that, really. I think the idea is great and I’m sure it will be a wonderful experience. I just—” She waved her hand toward the curtain. “This I know. This I trust. Linda is so important to me, and I guess I’m just…”

“A little nervous?”

Honor nodded. “Yeah.”

“Linda is too smart to take any chances. I’m sure if there’s any suggestion of difficulties, she’ll opt out. Besides,” Quinn said, cupping Honor’s cheek, “you’ll be there. And this ER is only so good because you’re here.”

Honor smiled and kissed Quinn’s throat. “How is it you always know just what to say to me?”

Quinn’s eyes softened, melting into the endless blue sea that Honor always wanted to drown in. “Maybe because I’ve always loved you.”

“I’m so crazy about you, you know.” Honor tilted her forehead to Quinn’s shoulder.

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

Honor shook her head. “You always could read my mind too. I think maybe I’m a little jealous.”

“Of Linda?” Quinn asked carefully.

“I would have loved to see you holding Jack when he took his first breath.”

“You said after he was born you wanted another.”

Honor didn’t miss the cautious note in Quinn’s voice and loved her all the more for it. “The two we have are amazing.”

Quinn let out a breath. “I’m perfectly content. But if it’s something you want—”

“Are you okay with the way things are? Because I’m sort of settling in at work now that Jack is a little bigger. And Arly will be a teenager soon—she had a rough start after Terry died, though I tried—”

“Hey,” Quinn said firmly. “Arly is solid. You gave her everything she needed.”

“Still, I want this time to be special for her.”

“Baby,” Quinn said, cradling Honor’s face in both hands and kissing her forehead. “Our family is the only thing that matters to me. If we stop at two, I’m great. If you want another, I’m there too—all I ask is that we see an OB first and get clearance. Last time was scary.”

“I know. I know.” Honor hugged Quinn quickly. “Let’s stick with the status quo for now.”

“Okay, but just say the word, make the appointment, and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you too. I better let you go. I’ll see you later.”

“Or better yet, later-later.”

Laughing, Quinn disappeared around the curtain. Even as her footsteps faded, the heat of her body lingered along Honor’s. She had the perfect family—two wonderful, healthy kids and a lover who made her heart sing and her body melt. She had everything she’d ever wanted.

*

“Let me help you with the dishes,” Annie said when Hollis stood and started to clear the table.

“Thanks,” Hollis said, carrying their plates to the sink. She washed while Annie put the silverware and glasses on the drain board beside her. Annie stood nearby, dish towel in hand, and Hollis contemplated how unexpectedly natural it all seemed. Lunch had been comfortable too, the conversation light and easy. She’d talked a lot about her plans for the house and Annie had seemed genuinely interested, commenting on Hollis’s ideas and adding some interesting insights. She hadn’t spent so much time with anyone other than family in years. Annie got her to relax without noticing it.

“That was great.” Annie folded the dish towel after drying the last plate. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.”

“Really?” Hollis felt a surge of pleasure at the remark, and a strange kind of satisfaction. “Someone has been falling down on the job, then.”

“Ah,” Annie said, blushing, “I’m afraid there isn’t anyone on the job.”

“What about Callie’s father?” Instantly, Hollis realized her misstep. She’d gotten too relaxed and dropped her guard. “I’m sorry. That was way, way out of line.”

“No, it’s a natural enough question.” Annie’s tone was crisp. “Let’s just say he’s never been in the picture and doesn’t rate the name.”

Hollis folded her arms across her chest and eased back, giving Annie space. “I am really sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

Annie registered the regret in Hollis’s eyes. “Really, there’s nothing to apologize for. You’re certainly not responsible for my stupidity.”

“That’s not a word I’d associate with you.”

“You didn’t know me when I was an impressionable girl right off the farm.”

“You mentioned your father was a cabinetmaker. Did he farm too?”

Annie turned to the open screen door and looked out over the half-finished porch. The deep yard was bordered on the street side by a row of large oaks and along the back by shrubs—while large by city standards, it was a far cry from the acres of corn and wheat that had been her backyard until she left for college at nineteen. “I grew up in western Pennsylvania on a big dairy farm. We were self-sustaining—my father built most of our furniture, my mother made our clothes, and we ate what we grew and raised. What we couldn’t make or grow ourselves we traded for with neighbors.”

“Amish?”

Annie turned, surprised. She usually directed conversations away from her personal history, but Hollis just kept surprising her. She had a way of moving right to the heart of the matter with a single question. Maybe it was the surgeon in her. “No, Mennonite. Similar, but not quite as rigid. We had electricity, used machinery. How did you know?”

Hollis looked uncomfortable. “I remember you didn’t want surgery because of your beliefs.”

“You remember that after all this time?”

“It’s strange. I usually remember surgical cases in absolute detail, so that’s pretty normal for me. I remember you because…”

“Why?” Annie asked, suddenly needing to know.

“You’re the only patient that’s ever fired me.”

Heat rushed to Annie’s cheeks. “A rather inauspicious honor, then. I’m surprised you fed me, let alone cooked.”

Hollis wasn’t ready to break their fragile truce by reliving that day. They’d have to, and when they did, she wasn’t sure how their budding relationship would be changed. For now, she just wanted to know more. More of Annie. “How does all that mesh with your midwife practice?”

“I’ve left the congregation,” Annie said, “so it’s not an issue. In fact, I didn’t have much choice. I was shunned.”

Hollis sucked in a breath, shock and fury racing through her. “You? Why?”

“I had a child out of wedlock, and I refused to give her up. I refused to return to the fold if it meant having my child scorned. And I insisted on modern medical training, including some things the congregation outlawed.”

Hollis rubbed her hands over her face. “So you had Callie and then…” Annie had been alone in the delivery room, but everything happened so quickly, she’d just assumed Annie’s partner and family hadn’t had time to get to the hospital. Now she realized there hadn’t been anyone. Annie had been totally alone. “No wonder you were angry. Everything you’ve accomplished is amazing.”

Any laughed mirthlessly. “Is that what you call it? I survived. I didn’t have any choice. I had Callie to think of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it all up.”

“You didn’t, I did.”

“Well, none of that was your doing.”

“I just wished I’d known.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. You still would have made the same choices.”

“Yes, I would. But maybe I would have been a little more sensitive.”

“The past can’t be changed,” Annie said abruptly. “No matter how much we wish we could do it over.”

Hollis felt the doors close and the walls go up between them. The warmth in the room fell away. She was aware of being tired for the first time all day. Annie was not going to so easily forgive her, and that saddened her. “All right. We should talk about the clinic.”

“Let’s reschedule,” Annie said. “You’ve been up all night and I need to pick Callie up from school in another hour or so. Tuesday?”

“I have office hours in the morning. One o’clock?”

“That sounds—”

Hollis’s cell rang and she fished it out of her pocket. “I better get that.”

“Of course.”

“Monroe.”

“Hi, Hollis, it’s Patty. Mary Anderson is running a temp of a hundred and four and her blood pressure’s a little on the low side. I’m kind of worried about her.”

“Is she bleeding?”

“Not much more than I would expect.”

“Go ahead and culture her up. Better let the neonatologist know to check the baby for signs of trans-uterine infection. Move Mary into an isolation room. I’ll be in to take a look.”

“Jerry Moorehouse is on call. I can have him—”

“No, don’t bother him. I’ll be right over.”

“Thanks Hollis, I’m sorry—”

“No problem. I’ll be right there.” She ended the call and pushed the phone into her pocket. “I’m sorry. I have to go. My patient from this morning is febrile.”

“Of course.” Annie followed Hollis through the house and out the front door. Hollis’s intense expression was distant. She was focused on her patient and barely aware of anything else. “Thanks again for lunch.”

Hollis frowned. “Sorry, I—”

“Go, Hollis, go. It’s fine.”

Hollis took off at a jog. Annie followed more slowly and carefully closed the gate, making sure the latch caught. She had to go back to the hospital too, to get her car, but Hollis was gone by the time she crossed the street into the park. What a strange day she’d had. She’d started out caught up in the fear and uncertainty of that long-ago day when everything in her life exploded. She was still angry, still hurt, at having been forced to start anew, alone. First she’d lashed out at Hollis and then had somehow ended up telling her things she hadn’t even told her friends. Hollis was the last person she would ever have dreamed of confiding in, but she had. And she had no idea why.