Crossroads

Chapter Twenty-four

“What do you think?” Hollis said, “Black or purple?”

Callie marched between the two bikes, studying them intently. She glanced at Hollis. “I bet I can ride without the training wheels.”

“If your mom says okay, we can try it and see what you think.”

“Which color do you like?”

“Hmm.” Hollis folded her arms. “The black is pretty cool with the silver letters, but purple is pretty. Do you like cool or pretty?”

Callie giggled. “Pretty.”

“Then I’d definitely do the purple. But I think you have to ask Mommy too.”

“Mommy likes pretty.”

Hollis laughed. “Okay. Well, when you come back with her—”

“Mommy,” Callie cried and raced away.

Hollis turned. Annie was just coming through the door, the sunlight behind her making her hair shimmer with red-gold highlights. Annie bent down, wrapped her arms around Callie, and gave her a big swinging hug. The joy in Annie’s eyes when she looked at Callie pierced Hollis’s heart, and the afternoon suddenly took on an amazing glow.

Annie looked her way and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hollis said, striding up to her. “That was fast.”

“Her contractions stopped. I’m not sure she won’t start again, but she’s got a good support system, and they know to call me if they need me to come back.” Annie’s eyes drifted over Hollis’s body and returned to her face. “How have you two been doing?”

“Great.” Hollis leaned forward and kissed Annie’s cheek. She was just so happy to see her. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too.”

Hollis wanted to whisk her out of the store, away from people, away from everything, to someplace where they could be alone. Where she could take the clasp from Annie’s hair and let the shining mass of curls fall loose around her shoulders, where she could slide the shirt off her pale, smooth arms, where she could guide her down and lie beside her and stroke her soft skin. She clenched her hands to keep from touching her. She hadn’t yet been invited to do any of those things, and the sharp edges of her own lust sliced like razors beneath her skin.

“Find a bike?” Annie’s voice was husky, the expression in her eyes making Hollis think Annie could read her thoughts.

“She’s picked out a couple.” Hollis dropped her hand on Callie’s head. “Why don’t you show your mom the two you like?”

Callie tugged on Annie’s hand. “Come on, Mommy. Hollis says I don’t need training wheels.”

Annie raised a brow at Hollis. “Does she now?”

Hollis coughed and shook her head slightly. “I believe what I said was we could see how she handled a bike with no trainers. If you agreed.”

Annie grinned at Callie. “Uh-huh. Clever kid of mine.”

“Come on,” Callie urged, and Annie followed her down the aisle.

Hollis hung back watching them as Callie excitedly pointed out the bicycles. Annie listened intently, nodding occasionally, her fingers resting on the back of Callie’s neck. They were beautiful, the two of them. Hollis remembered Annie that first night in the hospital—she’d been so much younger, so traumatized, so terrified. So alone. The heat of fury raced through her when she thought of all the people who should have been there for her and weren’t. She remembered lifting the baby from Annie’s body and the blood and the stark icy moments when she’d fought for Annie’s life.

She’d done the same thing she’d done in the OR that night dozens of times before and hundreds of times since, but looking at the two of them now, she wondered if she’d ever done anything that mattered so much.

Annie spun around and gave her a questioning look. Hollis shook off the memories and joined them.

“Everything okay?” Annie murmured.

“Yeah,” Hollis said.

“What were you thinking of?”

“How beautiful you are.” Hollis leaned closer. “How much I want to kiss you.”

Annie blushed, looking unexpectedly shy. “There’s that Monroe charm at work again.”

“Just the truth.” Hollis glanced down at Callie. “So? What did you decide?”

Callie grinned. “The purple one.”

“No trainers?”

“Will you be there?”

“You bet. We’ll take it outside so you can try it right now if you want. Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

Hollis glanced at Annie. “Okay with you?”

“She’s determined, so I’d say we’re ready.”

“Excellent.”

While Hollis went off to find a sales clerk, Annie took Callie outside. “Are you having fun, baby?”

“Hollis is going to teach me how to ride without the training wheels. Mike doesn’t have any.”

“Well, Hollis is a really good bicycle rider, and if you want to try, then I think you should.”

“You’re going to get a bike too, right? So you and me and Hollis can all go on our bicycles together?”

Annie’s throat tightened. Callie had taken to Hollis so quickly, had trusted her so easily. And why not? Hollis was easy to like, easy to be with, easy to need. Already, Hollis invaded her thoughts day and night, kept her body poised on the edge of exploding, and now Hollis was becoming something even more perilous—Hollis was slipping into her life, as naturally as if she belonged there. Even her daughter was falling in love with her. Annie’s breath caught. Oh no, she wasn’t falling in love. She wouldn’t. Callie was a child, naïve and innocent, but she wasn’t. She warmed, thinking of Hollis’s eyes on her, Hollis’s hands slipping over her side, her mouth so hot and sure.

What are you thinking of?

How beautiful you are. How much I want to kiss you.

Annie shivered. She was very nearly lost already, and she couldn’t afford to be—she’d worked so hard to build a life where she’d never again be dependent on anyone else, where she could make her own choices and never rely on someone who wouldn’t be there for her. She would never be blinded by her own need masquerading as love again.

The door behind them opened, and Hollis came through with a young woman pushing the bike Callie had chosen. It seemed so big—a child’s bicycle, and Callie was just a baby. Callie ran toward Hollis and Annie saw that she wasn’t a baby anymore. She’d already begun to grow up. Hollis steadied the bike and Callie climbed on. After Hollis made a few adjustments so Callie’s feet reached the pedals, she knelt down beside the bike and murmured to Callie. Callie nodded vigorously and Annie walked closer.

“Remember, no matter where you are,” Hollis said, “you always look around to make sure there are no cars or people or other bicycles coming. Okay?”

“Okay,” Callie said seriously.

Annie held up the helmet the sales girl passed to her. “And you’ll wear this every time you’re on your bicycle.”

Callie cut a look at Hollis. “Do you wear one like this?”

“Yep. Every time. Mine looks just like this one, only mine is red.”

“Okay.” Callie grinned. “This one is prettier than Mike’s.”

Laughing, Hollis fitted the helmet to Callie’s head and adjusted the straps, then tapped lightly on the top. “All right, you’re ready to go. Remember what I told you about how you stop, right?”

“I remember.” Callie looked up at Annie. “Mommy, can you stand on my other side?”

“Sure, baby.”

Annie lightly pressed a hand to Callie’s back and looked over Callie’s head at Hollis, whose left hand rested on the handlebar. Hollis gave Annie an encouraging grin.

“Okay, Callie,” Annie said, pulling her gaze away from Hollis. “Start pedaling.”

Annie and Hollis ran alongside Callie, who wobbled at first but soon found her center. Five minutes later, Callie announced she was fine on her own and Annie stood back with Hollis while Callie carefully rode the bike in a circle around the big parking lot.

“I can’t believe how big she seems now,” Annie murmured.

“I know. I was just thinking about how small she was when I delivered her.”

Annie caught her breath. Whenever memories of that night caught her unawares, she remembered pain and fear and the hands of strangers. A face came into focus, surrounded by bright lights that hurt her eyes, distorted by the red haze of agony. Hollis’s face. Hollis’s voice. Trust me.

She had no memory of the operating room or Callie’s first breath, her first cry, her first instinctive drive to suckle, but she hadn’t been alone as she had always believed. Hollis had been there. Hollis had been the first one to hold her child. And now Hollis was here, coming dangerously close to the places she protected with all her will. Still, she wanted a piece of that memory. “Was she beautiful?”

“Gorgeous,” Hollis murmured, watching Callie as she laughed and steered in a big, almost-steady circle. “She had a full head of hair, I remember—red-gold wisps of fire—and she was strong, Annie, like you. Perfect.” She looked at Annie. “I’m sorry you didn’t see her in those first moments.”

Annie shook her head. “It’s okay. I have her. I’ll have her every day for the rest of my life.” She touched Hollis’s wrist—a brush of thanks. “You were there. You took care of us both. I should have thanked you the second I saw you again.”

“No need—”

“Thank you, Hollis, for my daughter.”

Hollis swallowed. “You’re welcome.”

Annie smiled, feeling sad but somehow right. A circle had been closed, a chapter finally completed. It was time to let go, and maybe it had taken knowing Hollis for that to happen.

“Mommy,” Callie said breathlessly, barreling down on them. “Can I have—”

“Brakes, Cal,” Hollis called and caught the handlebars before Callie mowed Annie down.

“Oops,” Callie said, working the brake to stop the bike. “I’ll remember next time. Mommy, can I have this one?”

“Looks like it’s yours already.” Annie nodded to the clerk. “Go ahead and write it up.”

Annie paid, and Hollis helped her load the bike into the back of her Volvo. “Thanks.” Callie climbed in and Annie closed the door.

Hollis slipped an arm around her waist. “Six o’clock okay?”

Annie took a breath. “I’m going to pass on dinner tonight, Hollis. I’d rather be free if my patient goes into active labor.”

Hollis regarded her through appraising eyes. “What happened?”

“What? Noth—”

“Annie,” Hollis said softly.

“I’m sorry.” Annie brushed away a strand of hair the wind blew into her eyes. Hollis deserved better. “You’ve been wonderful and I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Hollis’s voice was still calm but her eyes had grown wintery.

“I do, of course I do.”

“I don’t want your gratitude.” Hollis swept a hand down Annie’s arm. “I know you feel it—the connection. I know you know I want you.”

Annie glanced into the car. Callie was engrossed in one of the children’s books Annie always kept in the console for emergency entertainment. What did she feel? Hollis stirred a great many things she had never expected and wasn’t at all sure she wanted, but one thing was certain—the desolation of finding herself utterly alone was something she never wanted to revisit. She took a breath. “Hollis, we’re already friends. Callie is fond of you.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Hollis frowned. “That Callie will get caught in the middle somehow?”

“Partly, yes. But I’ve never—” Annie sighed, knowing she was blushing. “Casual relationships just aren’t my style.”

“What makes you think I want a casual relationship?”

Hollis’s fingers drifted up and down Annie’s back, and the touch was like a live wire coiling beneath her skin. Annie tightened, want flooding through her. No, she wouldn’t be able to do casual with Hollis. “I’m not in the market for anything else.”

“I’m not Jeff, Annie.” Hollis’s voice was chillingly flat. She pulled keys from her pocket and bounced them once in her hand, searching Annie’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Annie whispered. She couldn’t take the chance of losing herself again. She just couldn’t.

Hollis’s eyes shuttered closed. “Someday you’re going to have to trust your feelings.”

Annie hurried around to the other side of the car, wincing when she heard Hollis roar out of the parking lot and into the street. She didn’t look after her, couldn’t watch her leave.

Trust her feelings? No, better not to have them at all.