Radclyffe - Turn back Time

by Turn back Time (lit)

  But Ronnie is a child, my child, and she didn't choose to have a mother who's a surgeon. I can't make her pay any more than she already does for my choices. Things are different with Pearce."

  "What would've happened if she'd said no? He's her father.

  Wouldn't he make exceptions for her?"

  Wynter snorted. "I don't think so. From what I can see, he's never made any exceptions for her. Quite the opposite. The expectations placed on her are enormous."

  "Well, what could he do?"

  "First of all, you don't say no to the chairman if you have any desire to get a good fellowship or a top faculty appointment. The right connections can make or break a career, and Ambrose Rifkin can pretty much place residents wherever he wants."

  "Why would he try to make life difficult for his daughter? I don't get it."

  "I'm not so sure it's about making life difficult for her . I think it's about paving the way for this other resident. He probably figures Pearce is the easier person to place because she's so damn good." Wynter gave an aggravated sigh. "And who cares what she has to suffer through to get there."

  "There's something very wrong with a process that makes you think it's all right for someone to treat anyone, let alone their own child, this way. Why aren't the both of you fighting mad?"

  "We're mad," Wynter said quietly. "But I don't see a way out right now."

  "So just what do you plan to do? Forget about her? Wait to see if she turns up again in a few months and still wants to play house?"

  "That's not very likely. By the time she comes back, we'll probably be in different places again." Wynter closed her eyes, suddenly more weary than tired. She knew that neither she nor Pearce had very much control over their lives at this point and that any kind of relationship during training was fraught with difficulty and usually didn't last.

  She'd had a wonderful awakening, a brilliant night of discovery with a tender, passionate, wildly beautiful woman. That experience alone should be enough to make her happy and, in all likelihood, would have to be enough. She knew it. She'd been telling herself that since the first time she'd said goodbye to Pearce the day before. Nevertheless, she clenched her fists and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I don't plan on waiting another four years to feel something like this again."

  "Even if you have to find it with someone other than her?"

  Wynter said nothing, wondering how that could ever be possible.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Wynter popped the top on a can of Diet Coke and dropped onto the cracked dark green vinyl sofa pushed against one wall in the surgeons' lounge. It was flanked by a battered refrigerator at one end and a large, square end table at the other. A phone and a pile of last year's magazines covered the table's surface. She pushed some of the clutter aside and, after draining half the soda, put down the can. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back, wishing she could go to sleep. Unfortunately, she was only halfway through her night on call, and if the first six hours had been any indication, it was going to be brutal. Immediately after evening sign-out rounds, she'd gotten a call from one of the intensive care nurses reporting that the patient in whom they'd corrected a carotid blockage the previous morning could no longer recall his name and had one-sided weakness. She'd known immediately that the area of surgical repair was blocked, and that if it were not treated immediately the patient would have a full-blown stroke. As she'd hurried to the ICU, she'd paged the attending, and within an hour, they were in the operating room. No sooner had they finished that case then the trauma fellow had called about a twenty year-old drug dealer who had ended up on the wrong end of a machete.

  In addition to several stab wounds to the chest, he had also sustained a complete transection of his brachial artery and was in danger of losing his hand.

  She'd learned long ago that the only way to get through a night like this was not to think about the time or how tired she was or all the things she had left to do. When she heard footsteps and then felt someone settle onto the other end of the sofa, she didn't bother to look over. Five more minutes. She'd give herself five more minutes to rest, and then she'd get up and check the arteriograms that had been finished late in the day.

  "Heard anything from Pearce?" Tammy asked, heaving her feet, clogs and all, up onto the coffee table.

  "No." Wynter didn't open her eyes. Even though she didn't want to, she heard herself say, "Have you?"

  " I didn't even know she was gone until yesterday." Tammy's usual undertone of petulance and annoyance was absent. "This sucks."

  "Yes," Wynter agreed, finally opening her eyes. Tammy looked as tired as Wynter felt. It'd been almost three days since Pearce had left.

  Wynter kept hoping that Pearce would call, despite the fact that she didn't really expect her to. Pearce would be busy getting adjusted to a new hospital, a new group of residents. And in all likelihood, they'd put her on call immediately. Besides, what was there to say? That was the most frustrating part of all. They both understood what was required of them. They both accepted that their life would not be their own for years. Still, being powerless did not sit well. "Sucks big-time."

  "Plus Dzubrow is a real pain in the ass," Tammy muttered.

  Although Wynter tended to agree with Tammy from what she had seen of him, she made no comment. It was prudent not to openly criticize other residents. She never knew when she might find herself working closely on the same service with one of them.

  "Bruce says he's hogging all the good cases," Tammy went on.

  "Pearce didn't need to steal cases. She already knows what she's doing."

  "He's probably just trying to get back into the swing of things after coming out of the lab," Wynter suggested mildly.

  Tammy gave her a look. "He was never in the swing of things. I heard him tell one of the other guys that he's got an offer from the NIH, and that's why Rifkin brought him out of the lab early. He's always been a lab rat. I don't even know why he wanted to be a surgeon."

  What Tammy said made sense. It would explain the sudden shift in the residents between services, and why Pearce had been farmed out.

  Ambrose Rifkin was priming Dzubrow for the chief resident's position, which would bolster his credentials at the NIH. She wondered if Pearce knew. Surely she must suspect, and although Wynter knew Pearce would never admit it, it must hurt. "God damn it."

  She hadn't even realized she'd cursed aloud until Tammy laughed.

  Wynter smiled wryly and said, "Nothing lasts forever--even pain."

  "It just feels like it does," Tammy said with a sigh. "If you hear from her, tell her I...we miss her."

  "Sure." Wynter wondered why Tammy thought she would be the one to hear, but she nodded. Tell her I miss her. She was too tired to be jealous. Almost too tired to miss Pearce. Almost.

  By six o'clock in the morning she was functioning on autopilot.

  She'd never gotten to bed, never closed her eyes again after the few minutes in the lounge with Tammy. It was just one of those nights where the emergency cases and traumas never stopped coming, and all she could do was forget that anything else in the world existed except the next crisis. The hospital was the universe, the operating room her only reality. When her beeper went off just as she reached the coffee in the cafeteria line, she contemplated tossing it into the trash. She glanced at the readout and saw that it was the page operator, which usually meant an outside call. Heart racing, thinking that Mina was calling about a problem with Ronnie, she left her tray on the track in front of the commercial coffee urns and hurried to the nearest phone.

  "Dr. Thompson," she said briskly when the operator answered.

  "I've got an outside call for you, Doctor. Hold please."

  Wynter heard a series of clicks. Then her heart leapt again at the sound of the rich, slightly husky voice.

  "Wynter?"

  "Pearce?"

  "I thought I'd try to catch you before the OR."

  Wynter turned her back to t
he cafeteria and leaned against the wall, much more awake than she had been just a few minutes before.

  "How are you doing?"

  "Just finished the night from hell."

  "You too? Was it a full moon?"

  Pearce chuckled. "Must've been."

  "How's it going out there?"

  "Not bad. Standard community hospital stuff. Busy."

  "That's good."

  Silence stretched until Wynter feared the connection had been broken. "Pearce?"

  "You're on call again Saturday, right?"

  "Yes," Wynter replied, confused. "But I--"

  "I want to see you. Friday night?"

  Despite the tightening in her stomach and the rapid flurry in her chest, Wynter tried to be rational. "Aren't you on call Saturday too?"

  "Not until eight o'clock in the morning."

  "It's too far for you to drive back here after work Friday and then get back there in the morning." Wynter closed her eyes, remembering Pearce as she'd last seen her, dressed in black, her eyes even darker.

  She'd wanted to kiss her but she hadn't. Hadn't wanted that final proof of their parting when Pearce said goodbye with the kiss still lingering on her lips. "I'm so glad you called."

  "I miss you."

  "Oh, I miss you too."

  "So I'll see you Friday."

  "Pearce," Wynter murmured. "I want to see you. I do. But I already told Mina and Ken I'd watch the kids--"

  "I should be out of here by six, so I'll see you about eight. I'll help."

  Wynter laughed, ridiculously happy. "Help what?"

  "I don't know. Whatever it is you do with them. The kids."

  "Janie's got a sleepover with her friends. The little ones will be in bed. Probably asleep."

  Pearce's voice dropped even lower. "All the better. See you, Doc."

  "See you," Wynter whispered. When she hung up, she wasn't tired any longer. She also realized that the dull ache she'd carried in the center of her chest for two days was gone.

  v "Have a good time," Wynter said as she stood in the front foyer watching Ken and Mina bundle into their coats. Despite the fact that Mina was heavily pregnant, she was determined to attend her sister Chloe's tenth wedding anniversary party, arguing that she could just as easily sit on Chloe's couch as her own.

  "I should be saying the same to you," Mina whispered as she passed. "If you don't want me waking you up in the morning, just leave a T-shirt hanging on your doorknob. In case you have overnight company."

  Wynter blushed. "Don't be silly. I'm sure Pearce will be so tired by the time she gets here we'll fall asleep watching a movie. Just wake us up if you find us drooling somewhere."

  "Uh-huh. We'll be quiet when we come in just the same." Mina glanced toward the street as a car pulled to the curb. "Looks like your date is here."

  Ken glanced at Wynter, then craned his neck toward the street. He gave a small grunt of surprise when Pearce slid out from the driver's side. "I guess I missed something."

  "That's because you're always a few weeks behind on the news."

  Mina put her arm around his waist and steered him onto the porch and toward the stairs. "Never mind, handsome. Let's go to the party."

  "Night, Wynter," Ken called over his shoulder as Mina tugged him along. He nodded to Pearce as she passed.

  Wynter heard Pearce mutter hello as she took the stairs two at a time and crossed the porch with long strides. She was in jeans, her leather jacket, and a scrub shirt. Even in the dim porch light, Wynter could make out the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. When Pearce stopped just at the threshold, searching Wynter's face with a question in her eyes, Wynter wrapped both arms around Pearce's shoulders and pressed her mouth to Pearce's.

  Pearce gave a shuddering groan and gathered her close.

  The kiss echoed with longing as much as desire, and Wynter sensed sadness and uncertainty in the way Pearce's hands moved over her back. It was as if Pearce wasn't sure she was real.

  "It's all right."

  "Is it?" Pearce's voice was harsh, gritty with fatigue and confusion.

  She rested her forehead against Wynter's and closed her eyes. "I don't know anymore."

  "Then come inside and let's find out."

  Wynter took Pearce's gloveless hand, finding it cold and stiff, and folded her warm fingers around it. "Have you eaten?"

  "Breakfast."

  "How does soup and a sandwich sound?"

  "I'm not really hungry. Where are the kids?"

  "They're already in bed. And you need to eat." Wynter closed the door behind them and then grasped the front of Pearce's jacket. She was concerned that Pearce seemed disoriented, and then she recognized what others often saw in her. Deadly fatigue. "Take this off."

  Pearce shrugged out of the heavy leather and rolled her shoulders.

  The house was warm, welcoming, and for the first time all week, the tension in her neck and back eased. She grasped Wynter's hand again, needing the contact, fearing that she might disappear between one breath and the next. The week had been endless. She still didn't understand how she had come to find herself in a strange town, in a strange hospital, surrounded by strangers. She hadn't been able to sleep in a strange bed.

  She missed Wynter. Her only recourse had been to lose herself in the things that she knew best, and she'd prowled the emergency room until late into the night, every night, looking for something to occupy her mind and take away her loneliness.

  "I'll only be a minute," Wynter said as she led Pearce to the sofa, watching her carefully. She looked so drawn, so defeated, that all Wynter wanted was to hold her. "Okay? I'll be right back."

  "Okay. Sure." Pearce shook her head and smiled as she settled into the corner of the sofa. "You sure I can't help?"

  Wynter laughed. "Not much skill required." She leaned down and kissed Pearce again. "God, it's good to see you."

  Before Wynter could straighten, Pearce caught her around the waist and pulled her down into her lap. Wynter ended up with her legs pulled up onto the sofa and her arms around Pearce's neck. Pearce pressed her face into the curve of Wynter's shoulder, her mouth open and questing against Wynter's throat.

  "Oh, baby, what?" Wynter whispered, stroking the back of Pearce's neck. She kissed her forehead. "What's wrong?"

  "I don't think I can take it anymore." Pearce lifted her head, her eyes dark with misery. "I'm so fucked up. I don't want to go back."

  Wynter caught her breath. She stroked Pearce's cheek. "You're tired. Did you sleep at all this week?"

  "Some. A little. I don't know."

  "Have you talked with your father?"

  Pearce laughed, the bitter sound of hopelessness. "What can I say? That I can't take it? That I can't cut it?" She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Wynter's shoulder. "You know what he always told me, since I was a kid?"

  "What, baby?"

  "God hates a coward."

  Wynter was familiar with the phrase. It was another surgical mantra, another phrase designed to create confidence and conviction in the face of uncertainty. It worked for adults in the midst of a crisis, but for a child it would be an unbearable burden. "You are one of the bravest people I've ever known."

  "No. That's what you are. You stood up to him."

  "Pearce--"

  "You did ." Pearce tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She brushed her fingers over Wynter's mouth. "You know what I thought about all week?"

  "What?" Wynter's voice was low and rough, the blood heavy in her veins as arousal coursed through her.

  "The way you taste." Slowly, Pearce ran her tongue along the edge of Wynter's jaw and down her neck.

  Wynter gasped.

  "The way you feel." Pearce caught the delicate skin just above Wynter's collarbone in her teeth and sucked.

  Wynter made a small keening sound.

  "The way you tremble when you come." Pearce teased the back of Wynter's blouse from her jeans and slid her hand beneath it. She walked her fingers up Wynter's spine and
fanned her fingers between her shoulder blades, holding her captive as she kissed her. Gently at first, then deeper, harder, unable to get far enough inside her to fill her own empty places. She froze when she heard Wynter cry out and jerked away, groaning. "God. Did I hurt you?"

  "No. No, baby, no."

  "I don't know what I'm doing."

  "I do," Wynter whispered. "I'm falling in love with you." She stood, her legs trembling but her face calm and strong. She took Pearce's hand. "Come upstairs."

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Wynter draped a T-shirt she grabbed from a nearby chair over the doorknob, gently closed the bedroom door, and led Pearce to the bed.

  "Where are the kids?" Pearce whispered as Wynter switched on a soft night-light.

  "They're down the hall. They won't wake up. Don't worry."

  Wynter kissed her softly. "And if they do, we'll hear them."

  "What about Mina and Ken?"

  "This is my old room--the guest room. Theirs is at the other end, on the far side of the kids. We're alone--more or less."

  "Okay. If you're sure."

  "Very." Wynter smiled and tugged Pearce's scrub shirt from her jeans. "Raise your arms." When Pearce did, she pulled the shirt off over her head along with the white cotton tank top she wore beneath. Looking down, she faltered, a fist of need tightening in the pit of her stomach.

  She contented herself with brushing her fingers across Pearce's chest, when what she wanted was to lower her mouth to her breasts. She forced her fingers to open the top button on Pearce's jeans.

  Pearce followed Wynter's movements, her breath hitching unevenly. The briefest glance of Wynter's fingers against her bare stomach made her muscles tighten, and she was instantly wet. "Should I worry that you're undressing me like you do Ronnie?"

  "Trust me," Wynter said, her voice as thick as warm honey, "there is no similarity." She hooked her fingers around the denim and sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled the jeans down. "Boots."

  Thighs suddenly trembling, Pearce steadied herself with a hand on Wynter's shoulder and kicked off the boots and her jeans along with them. When Wynter leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against Pearce's lower abdomen, Pearce shivered.