by K A Moll
Keegan’s posture relaxed, smiling.
“But seeing your dad drag you off the train, screaming and crying, still ranks as the most frightening thing that I’ve ever witnessed in my life. I thought he was gonna kill you, but I couldn’t see anything that I could do to stop him.” Her lower lip trembled, reliving the moment. “So, I just sat there, frozen, watching, watching him jerk you around like a rag doll, doing nothing. Nothing, Keegs. I did absolutely nothing to try to help you. And I’m so sorry.”
Keegan slipped her arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I was twice your size, and if I couldn’t get away from him, there was nothing you could’ve done.”
“I could’ve run for help.”
“In Alabama? No one would’ve intervened. In fact, they’d have probably cheered him on. Trust me; there’s nothing you could’ve done.”
“Something, I could’ve done something,” Willow said quietly. “But all I managed to do was zip my pants and sob. After a while, when I didn’t get off the train with everyone else, my grandma came looking for me. And I didn’t even have the courage to tell her what’d happened. How could I? I’d have had to tell her that I’d been with a girl. And she’d have told my grandpa. God was I ever a chicken back then. I probably still am, truth be known.” She took a long breath, allowing it to escape slowly. “But as time passed, as I continued to reflect on what had happened, I knew that there was more that I could’ve done.” She pressed her lips together, looking down, and off. “I could’ve jumped on his back, clawed his eyes out. That would’ve taught him a lesson, a lesson that he deserved.”
Keegan brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “But I wouldn’t have wanted you to. I’d have sooner died than to have him hurt you.”
“But I’d have done it,” Willow said. “If I’d have had the courage, I’d have done it for you. Afterward, in the months that followed, I was so afraid, afraid that he’d killed you.” Angry tears burned behind her eyelids. “And I hated him for it. I think I still do.”
“I’m so sorry,” Keegan responded. “If I’d have known where you lived, how to reach you, I’d have let you know that I was alright.”
“Okay, so let’s not make that mistake twice,” Willow said, collecting a pad and pen from her purse. “Let’s exchange contact information before we go any farther.” She jotted down her address and phone number.
“Good idea,” Keegan said, reaching into her pocket for a business card, and flipping it over. “I’m writing my personal contact information on the back. You can call me at the hospital, but to get to me, you’ll have to explain who you are and what you want before they’ll put you through. It’d be easier if you just call my cell. If I’m not in surgery, I’ll answer. And if I don’t answer, and you need me right then, you call right back, and a surgical tech will.”
Willow nodded, taking the card, and reading the front first. “Keegan Harper Wade, MD — Thoracic Fellow — Surgical Critical Care Fellow — Trauma Surgeon — Chief of Trauma Surgery.” She smiled, holding her gaze. “I am so proud of you. You seemed really smart way back when, but Keegan, oh Keegan, the things you’ve accomplished.”
Keegan smiled, fiddling with her watch band. “Thanks,” she said, promptly returning them to the previous topic. “So, the rest of the story is that my dad fractured my shoulder. He took me straight to the ER, even admitted to doing it. Told them he’d lost it after catching me with my hand in another girl’s pants.” She looked off, shaking her head. “The surgeon patted his back, told him that he understood. You shouldn’t feel bad, he said, I’d have done the very same thing in the same situation. That’s the day I decided to become a doctor, a trauma surgeon; like him, but not like him. I guess I thought I might be able to help some kid down the road.”
“And I’m sure that you have, many times over.”
Keegan shook her head, her gaze becoming distant for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have, you just haven’t noticed,” Willow responded, deciding to practice a bit of social work, concerned that Keegan was down on herself. “I want you to do something for me,” she said, “I want you to tell me about a case, one where your patient survived, in spite of the odds.”
Keegan thought for a moment. “Okay, here’s one, a recent one. This twenty-three-year-old guy, high as a kite, with multiple injuries, was airlifted to the ER.”
“I’ll bet he was involved in a car accident.”
“Right, a multiple with several injured. So, this guy had aggressive resuscitation during transport, no recordable blood pressure, and his right leg was ice cold when he got to us.”
“Not good.”
“No, not good at all.”
“Was the accident his fault?”
“Of course, it was. He ran head-on into an SUV with a mom and her four kids. Knocked them over an embankment, ended up being trapped in their vehicles for hours. They were brought in just after he was.”
“That’s awful.”
“It is. So anyway, on exam I was sure this young guy was a goner. But we worked on him and worked on him and worked on him. And finally, he stabilized in ICU, and I was able to take him into surgery.” Her eyes widened, finishing her story. “And I have no idea how we managed to pull it off. He’s one lucky guy, on his way to jail when he gets out of the hospital.”
“And once again, I am so proud of you.”
“It was a team effort. That’s the way it works in trauma.”
“Okay, so I’m proud of all of you. What you do sounds like a really hard job.”
“Some days, harder than others.”
“How about the mom and kids? What happened to them?”
“Lost two, the mom and the youngest.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It is.”
The train swayed.
Red lights flashed.
A whistle sounded.
“Okay, so I’m gonna tell you something, but you can’t laugh.” Willow shook her head, breaking eye contact. “Or, maybe I’m not. Forget I said anything.”
“After that intro, you have to tell me.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“You must’ve thought it was, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“I did, but only because I thought that it might help me explain something that I said at dinner. But it’s not worth it.”
“Oh, come on,” Keegan urged with a wink, “tell me.”
“If I do, you’d better not laugh.”
“I promise, no laughing.”
Willow blushed.
“It’s okay,” Keegan said quietly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” Willow answered, “unusual more than anything. I’m making it out to be more than it is.” She went on to tell her that she’d had an orgasm that afternoon, one that came out of nowhere.
“Okay,” Keegan responded, her tone taking on a serious quality, “so that’s not quite what I expected.” She took and released a breath. “They’re called spontaneous orgasms,” she explained in what Willow imagined to be her office voice. “It’s probably nothing to worry about, but definitely something worthy of a medical workup.”
Willow pressed her lips together, restraining a smile. “Okay, so I need to clarify. It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere as in spontaneous, no reason for it, need to see a doctor. It was more that it was of the hands-off variety.” Her blush deepened, she hesitated, and then went on. “I was soaking in the Jacuzzi, thinking about you—specifically, your physical attributes—and bam, there it was.”
Pleasure sparkled in Keegan’s eyes.
“Don’t you laugh, Keegan Wade.”
“No, this is serious business, no laughter.”
“It is serious business. I think my head’s gonna explode if I have one more thing to worry about.”
“And your unanticipated physical response worries you because—”
“Because at thirty-
nine, out of nowhere, it means I might be a lesbian.”
“And that worries you because—”
“Because of …because of expectations.”
“My expectations?”
“And others, Nikki, and my family.”
“Okay, let’s take one item off the table. I don’t have expectations. None. So, that’s not something you need to worry about.”
“Everyone has expectations, Keegs. You, me, my family, Nikki, we all have expectations of one another. All the people in my life, with the exception of you, know me as a straight woman. This—if anything comes of it—will blow their minds.”
“And you’re afraid that with the mind-blowing comes disappointment. You’re afraid that you’ll disappoint the people you love.”
Willow’s eyes teemed with tears. “No matter what I do, I will.”
“And that’s life, Willow. People disappoint us. We disappoint them. That’s life.”
“So, I shouldn’t worry about it, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Sexuality is personal, as personal as it gets. I don’t think what you do or how you feel is anyone’s business but yours. I think you should do what’s right for you. And if you disappoint me in doing that, then so be it. And if you disappoint others in doing that, then so be it. You need to do what’s right for you—and you alone.”
Willow’s lips parted. “Kiss me.”
And Keegan laid her back, capturing her mouth with a hunger that belied her outward calm.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Keegan let herself in, unsure what the morning would bring. You shouldn’t have kissed her. It was your responsibility to know better, to use restraint. She unscrewed the cap on a bottle of whiskey and drank. Two days, yesterday and today, that’s all she’s been back in your life, and already you’ve managed to ruin things. As she’d walked Willow back to her cabin, she’d felt heaviness in her chest, seeing quiet tears roll down her cheeks. She’d brought them to a halt, asked what was going on, and thumbed them away. I’m not ready, Willow had answered, her voice cracking.
Keegan sucked down another drink. You’re such an idiot. You could’ve used some restraint. But she had exercised restraint—when their breasts came together, nipples marble-hard beneath the fabric; when the sweetness of Willow’s cologne stoked her growing fire; and when Willow’s dress lifted, exposing her upper thigh. She’d even remained steady when Willow’s arms came around her neck, pulling her back down. That’s all good; but not enough. Whatever chance you had; it’s gone. She removed her tie, opened her collar, and walked to the bar, praying that she was wrong.
“Dr. Wade,” the bartender greeted, reaching for a bottle. “Pendleton, I presume.”
“You presume correctly,” Keegan responded, dropping onto a stool, and staying until the establishment closed. She went to bed in her street clothes, holding Willow’s image in her mind, resisting the urge to call her. Eventually, she dozed off. And it began as it always began—with the prosecuting attorney, a shark, nosing through the wooden gate, and taking her seat at the counsel table. The judge, an owl, was on his perch behind the bench, and the jury, rodents, were in the jury box. A series of expert witnesses testified before the defendant, who in this version of the nightmare was herself.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Wade,” the shark greeted, her grotesque smile spreading between her gill slits. “Please, state your full name for the jury.”
“Keegan Harper Wade.”
“And you practice at New York General, a physician, the Chief of Trauma Surgery.”
“Yes.”
“And your patient lost his leg due to your incompetence.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“And you’re a drunk, isn’t that correct?”
“No.”
“But you were drinking on the day in question.”
“I had a drink before I went in that morning. But this surgery, it was late at night.”
“A yes or no will suffice.”
“Yes.”
“And not only are you a drunk, but you also drink on the job, isn’t that correct?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“What if I told you I had proof you were lying?”
“I’d say that was impossible.”
“And, again you’d be lying,” the shark responded, waving a bottle of whiskey under her nose, and the noses of the rodents. “If you don’t drink on the job, then explain how it is that one of my associates found this in your desk drawer at the hospital?”
Keegan swallowed, seeing her career flash before her eyes.
The shark locked gazes, a satisfied gleam sparkling. “Is it yours, Dr. Wade?”
Keegan struggled to catch her breath.
“What would you say if I told you that we found your fingerprints all over it?”
“I’d say it was possible.”
“You’d say it was possible because you’re a drunk.”
“No.”
“And you drink on the job.”
“No.”
“And you’re a bad doctor.”
“No.”
“And you’re a danger to your patients.”
“No.”
The shark cackled, sending chills down Keegan’s spine. “Gotcha, Dr. Wade! Your Honor, the defendant has lied under oath.”
The owl turned his head three-hundred-sixty degrees. “Bailiff, please take the defendant into custody.”
Keegan awoke with a start, her pulse racing. Owls can’t turn their heads all the way around. It’s just a dream. Breathe. In for four, hold for five, out for six. Come on, heart, slow down. Everything’s okay; there’s nothing to worry about. She rolled this way, and that way, and stared at the ceiling. Then, she reached for the bottle. As she unscrewed the cap, taking a long drink, she checked the time—four-fifteen. It was early, but not too early to call. She reached for her phone, pressing speaker, and dialing. She’d need to change her number again, but that didn’t matter because she needed help.
A sleepy woman answered her call.
“It’s me,” she greeted. “Sorry to wake you up before your alarm.”
“That’s okay,” Naomi answered, yawning. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I just need you to do something for me.” She went on to explain the details. “You think you’d be able to do it first thing this morning?”
“Sure, no problem.” Naomi would have climbed the highest mountain if she’d asked her to do it, a quality that usually made her uncomfortable, but this morning, it relieved her mind.
Keegan hung up, tipped the bottle, and poured a proper drink—her thoughts returning to Willow. Was she awake? Did she sleep well? And, most importantly, was she alright?
*
Willow rolled to her back, Keegan’s name on her lips, and her pillow stained with tears, her response to the kiss having proven what she’d feared, that her feelings for her were more than innocent attraction. She’d welcomed the kiss, not because she was ready, but to test whether she was a lesbian. And from the moment Keegan pressed her lips to hers, she knew in her deepest recesses that she was. And she knew with certainty that had Keegan not been so patient and understanding of her feelings, had she asked for more, she’d have yielded to her right there—in that bunk without a curtain, in that room with too many windows, with no clear idea of how a woman goes about making love to another. And with that realization came her first true understanding of her ex-husband’s dissatisfaction in their marriage. With Keegan, she’d felt passion, yearned for more, but with Charlie, she’d felt nothing, watched the clock. There’d been more out there, more than she’d ever dreamed possible, but it was just as well that she hadn’t known. Because under no circumstance would she have wanted to risk changing history, taken the chance that she might not have taken this trip, that her path might not have crossed with Keegan’s—even if that meant telling her friends, family, and Nikki that she was a lesbian. And with that came another round of worry. She cringed, a
recent memory coming to mind. Oh God, you left her standing outside the door. You need to call her, explain that you were upset, but not at her. Why was it so difficult to use her words when she felt embarrassed, uncertain, or scared? She glanced at the clock, deciding that it was too early, that Keegan might still be asleep. And with that, she reached for her phone, searching the Internet for information on what lesbians do in bed.
“You’re awake,” Nikki greeted, coming in to sit on the edge of her bed. “Are you okay? I’ve never known you to lay around without having had a cup of coffee. I hope you’re not catching what I have.”
“I’m not,” Willow answered, closing the window without reading the text. “I’m on vacation.” She smiled, touching her arm. “You feel like going to breakfast?”
“I do,” Nicole answered, bumping into a chair on her way to get dressed.
Willow furrowed her brow. “Are you still lightheaded?”
“Cluck, cluck, Mother Hen.”
“Cluck if you want,” Willow responded, “but I think you’re still light-headed.” She pursed her lips. “I’m starting to get worried, Nikki. This virus or whatever it is that you have is hanging on too long.”
“But see, it hasn’t been that long,” Nicole countered. “It just seems like it because we’re on vacation together. If you were going about your regular daily activities, and I was going about mine, you wouldn’t be noticing as much.”
Willow got up, showered, pulled on jeans, and selected a blouse that displayed cleavage. She found Nicole dressed in jeans and a baggy t-shirt with the Harvard Law School emblem on the front when she came out. “Alright,” she greeted with a smile, “let’s go eat.” She collected her purse, hoping they’d see Keegan at the restaurant. She ordered two eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast—consuming all of it.
Nicole ordered more than usual—a poached egg and an English muffin— consuming some of it. She laid down when they got back to their cabin. She asked Willow to bring her cell when it rang, perking up as she listened to the caller. “Well, isn’t that interesting,” she said. “In trying to protect her lover, she’s served her up on a silver platter. You deserve a bonus for this, and you’ll get one. With no medical errors, I was afraid we’d have to drop the lawsuit, but now we won’t. Send me the photos.” She hung up, moaning as she set her device on the nightstand.