by Radclyffe
“I’m sure I’ll run into you here. Night.”
It was after ten, and, deciding to shower at home, Quinn hurriedly packed her gear. Outside, the storm had abated, leaving behind only a thick clinging mist that shimmered in the air and felt heavy on her skin. The health club that she had discovered in the neighborhood guide and had joined just that evening was in Alden Park, a collection of ornate red stone buildings clustered on a hill overlooking Lincoln Drive and the wild, northern extension of Fairmont Park. It was a brisk ten-minute walk from her apartment, and she decided to take the “long” way home by circling a small corner park that bordered her street to the south.
It was a residential neighborhood and, late on a weeknight, the streets were deserted. Moisture floating in the air cast halos around the streetlights, and as Quinn walked through the dark from one circle of light to the next, she felt isolated and eerily alone. That was a new feeling, that sense of being alone. Or to be accurate, she thought, her awareness of being alone.
She’d either been too busy or too focused to notice before. She’d been on the fast track since she was fifteen years old, skipping a year of high school and then entering an accelerated combined college and medical school program. At about the time others her age were finishing college and contemplating the benefits of taking a year off before entering graduate school, she had begun her internship. Nothing had stood in her way, nothing had ever slowed her down, until everything had come to a screeching halt just when she thought she had accomplished her goal.
Quinn was so immersed in her reminiscences that when a shape materialized out of the shadows, she gasped in surprise and stumbled to a halt. Realizing almost immediately that it was just another late-night stroller, she moved forward again, feeling foolish. As the figure neared, she stared, thinking at first that she merely imagined the familiar stride and unmistakable form.
“Honor?” Quinn asked when it became apparent that she had not been mistaken.
Honor halted within touching distance of Quinn, and Pooch obediently sat at her side. She brushed her hair back with one hand, taking a moment to hide her discomfort. She had been thinking about Quinn, remembering the events of the afternoon again, and to see her suddenly appear was disorienting. “Hi. I...uh...” She motioned to Pooch with her chin. “Walking the dog.”
“I see that.” Quinn extended her fingers toward the dog and got a warm lick as a reward. “Hi, pooch.”
“Yes.” Honor laughed. “That’s him. Pooch.”
Quinn raised a brow.
“His name. Pooch.”
“Ah!” Quinn laughed. “He’s very well behaved.”
“That’s an anomaly, I can assure you.” Honor smiled, feeling foolish for her previous discomfort. “What about you? Kind of late for a stroll.”
Quinn lifted her gym bag. “Working out.”
Honor shook her head. “Don’t you ever relax?”
“It was either that or unpack boxes.” Quinn shrugged. “Seemed like a no-brainer to me.”
By silent agreement, Honor turned around, and together they walked in the direction of their homes, making intermittent stops so that Pooch could smell a particularly delightful morsel of trash or leave his mark on top of one left by some interloper into his territory.
“I take it you didn’t have much time to move,” Honor said conversationally.
Quinn hesitated, then said, “I wasn’t certain I would get this job, and then when I did, I only had a couple of weeks to find a place to live. I was lucky to get one so close to work.”
“Do you intend to bike all winter?”
“As long as I can. I can always walk if the weather gets too bad.”
Honor laughed. “I think you’ll change your mind round about January. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a parking space in the doctors’ lot. They’re rare as hen’s teeth, but I’ll cash in on some favors.”
“Don’t bother,” Quinn said without thinking. “I can’t drive.”
“What? You don’t know how to drive?”
“No, I...uh...don’t drive,” Quinn amended quickly. “No car.”
Honor cocked her head and gave Quinn a curious stare. She’s lying. She knew it as surely as she had ever known anything. But why?
“Well, then. I’ll hold on to those favors.”
“Thanks anyways,” Quinn said awkwardly. Being around Honor made her forget her usual caution, which was not only disconcerting, but dangerous.
“This is my house,” Honor said, indicating a dwelling set back from the street behind a white picket fence.
“Good night, Honor,” Quinn said softly.
“See you tomorrow.” Honor turned quickly into the driveway, pulling Pooch along while ignoring the insistent urge to watch until Quinn disappeared from sight. But as much as she would have liked to, it was hard to deny that she was already looking forward to seeing Quinn in the morning.
Chapter Six
Honor leaned over the bed, her stethoscope against the chest of a ten-year-old asthmatic, listening to the air flow in and out with each cycle of respiration. A few scattered wheezes still remained, but she was satisfied that the inhalation therapy she had prescribed to ease the constriction in the little boy’s bronchial passages had begun to work. She looked up as Linda poked her head around the edge of the curtain. The expression on Linda’s face brought Honor hurrying toward her.
“What is it?” From the alarm on her friend’s face, she expected to hear that there’d been a multivehicular crash on the Schuylkill Expressway and that they were expecting six major traumas.
“Rodney just called from the job site. There’s been an accident.”
“Accident? What kind of accident?”
“I don’t know. Something about Terry being in an accident. Then the ambulance arrived and he had to go.”
“Ambulance? For Terry?” Honor’s heart began to race. “Terry’s been in an accident? What happened?”
“That’s all he said, honey. That’s all I know.”
Honor looked around the emergency room as if seeing it for the first time. Everything was so white, so sterile, so incredibly impersonal. Terry. They’re bringing Terry here. Honor was a second-year resident, and until two minutes ago, she had thought she could handle anything. Terry. She took a breath, reminded herself that this was her domain, her kingdom. She could handle what was coming. That’s what she did. She’d take care of Terry.
“Did they say how bad?” Her voice came out hoarse, but steady.
“Nothing.” Linda’s eyes were round, the pupils dilated. “Rodney...wasn’t making a lot of sense. I’m sorry.”
Honor’s chest was tight, every breath an effort, and when she started toward trauma one, she found that her feet would barely move. Surely it’s nothing serious. Contractors are always getting banged up. Twisted knees, jammed shoulders, bumps on the head. God, I hope she wasn’t fooling around with the carpenters again. She knows how much I hate her doing anything with those damn power tools. She’s supposed to be the job foreman—keeping the crews organized—not spending her time actually rebuilding the damn houses!
“Can you get the ambulance on the radio?” Honor finally managed to start moving. “Get an update on her condition?”
“Sure.” Linda nodded vigorously. “Right away.”
Before Linda had a chance to make that call, the ambulance bay doors burst open and three EMTs pushing a stretcher came crashing through. One look at the still form strapped to a backboard with sandbags on either side of the pale face turned Honor’s legs to jelly, and her stomach heaved. Not just a minor accident. Oh my God.
When she tried to speak, no words came out. When she tried to raise her hand, her arm felt leaden. As if in a dream, she watched, nearly paralyzed, as Linda directed the EMTs into the procedure room. Two ER attendings, another resident, and as many nurses rushed after them. Finally, Honor followed.
At the threshold, Honor halted, staring at the flurry of activity surrounding her lover. She reco
gnized the routine, but it seemed so out of place with Terry lying there so still. After only a moment, the activity abruptly halted, and Linda materialized from the crowd, a strange look in her eyes. She walked to Honor and took her arm.
“Come over here, honey.”
Honor protested when Linda started to draw her away from the room. “No. I have to help. I have to take care of her.”
“Honor...Honor, sweetheart, her neck is broken. It must have been instantaneous.” Linda’s face was white. “There’s nothing they can do. She’s dead, sweetheart.”
“Of course she isn’t. That’s ridiculous.” Honor turned and started back toward trauma one. This time, it was as if she were swimming against a tidal wave. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to make any progress. It was difficult to see, there was so much water in her eyes. She kept wiping them, but the moisture covered her cheeks, blurring her vision. Beneath the roar of the rushing water, she could hear Linda’s voice, soothing and gentle.
“Honor. She’s gone.”
By the time Honor forced her way through the crowd, she could see through her tears. That’s when she knew they were wrong. Terry was just asleep. There wasn’t a mark on her face or her body. Her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful, and she was warm when Honor rested her fingers against her cheek. Her lover looked just exactly as she had that morning, still bundled under the covers of their bed, when Honor had kissed her goodbye. Of course she wasn’t gone.
“Terry, honey?” Honor leaned down, her lips close to her lover’s ear. She could smell the distinct scent of her shampoo. “It’s Honor, love. Can you please just wake up for a few minutes? I only want to hear your voice, and then you can go right back to sleep. I promise.”
Linda, tears streaming down her cheeks, wrapped her arm around Honor’s waist. “Sweetheart, she can’t hear you. She’s gone, baby.”
Honor straightened, furious. “Will you stop saying that! Can’t you see she’s just asleep?”
Over Linda’s shoulder, Honor could see the expressions on the faces of her friends and colleagues. Pity, sadness, compassion. She reached out and picked up Terry’s left hand, running her thumb over the gold band on her ring finger that matched her own. With her other hand, she brushed the hair from her lover’s forehead, then leaned down again and softly kissed her lips. “I love you. You know that, right? Forever and always.”
With a start, Honor jerked awake, gasping. The room was dark, and when she turned her head, she saw that there were still fifteen minutes until her alarm was due to go off. Heart pounding, she lay in the damp sheets, waiting for the faint nausea to pass.
God, I haven’t dreamt of that in so long.
For the first year after Terry’s death, she had revisited the scene countless times, in her dreams and in her waking moments. Sometimes it had been with the absolute clarity of perfect recall, as this dream had been, other times merely a jumble of distorted images as she searched frantically through dark mists and frightening shadows, knowing that Terry was waiting for her just at the edge of awakening. But each time she awakened, she had been alone.
As the years had passed, the dreams had become less frequent and eventually had stopped.
Six years, and I still miss you so much.
With a sigh, Honor rolled over and turned off the alarm. She slipped from bed and reached for the robe thrown over the nearby ancient upholstered reading chair. Pulling it on as she walked, she padded quietly down the hall to Arly’s room. She peeked inside and saw with relief that her daughter was sleeping soundly. There had been a time when Honor’s nightmares had been accompanied by screams. Thankfully, that had stopped.
Arly had been just over a year old when Terry had died and had no memory of her. Honor had never been sure whether that was a good or bad thing. She was happy that their daughter had not consciously suffered the loss of a mother, but she would be eternally saddened that Arly would never know Terry, who had dreamed along with Honor of conceiving her and raising her together as a family.
Sighing, pushing the memories aside, Honor headed downstairs to start the coffee. Phyllis would arrive soon to get Arly off to day camp after Honor left for work. She had just finished pouring her first cup when Phyllis came in through the back door.
“Rough night?” Phyllis asked as she helped herself to coffee.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Phyllis brushed the tousled bangs off Honor’s forehead.
“Always know.”
Phyllis shrugged. “You have incredibly expressive eyes. And this morning, they’re sad.”
“Just bad dreams.” Honor smiled wanly, knowing she didn’t have to explain. Phyllis had moved in with Honor and Arly after Terry’s death and had stayed for six months before “moving” back to the other half of the twin. She’d been there for the nightmares and the screams and the agony of loss, bearing up under her own pain to help her daughter’s lover cope.
“Something happen to get you stirred up?”
“No, why?” Honor knew she sounded defensive and had no idea why. Thankfully, Phyllis didn’t seem offended.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been bothered. When things come up again like that, it’s usually because something has changed.”
“Nothing has changed.” Abruptly, Honor took her coffee cup and headed toward the winding rear stairs that led from the kitchen to the floor above. “I’ve got to get moving or else I’ll be late.”
Wordlessly, Phyllis watched her go. She loved Honor every bit as much as she had loved Terry, and watching Honor’s devastation had pained her almost as much as the agony of losing her child. The sadness of that loss was eternal, and she would always miss Terry, but with time, she had let go of the pain. She had always hoped that someday Honor would as well.
Everyone comes to their own truth in their own time, she reminded herself. Honor will do the same.
Quinn rolled over in her sleeping bag with a groan and grabbed her right shoulder. A cramp so severe she wanted to scream out loud gripped her trapezius muscle, and it took her a full thirty seconds of massaging it before the charley horse eased. She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
“That’s it. Tomorrow I’m getting the bedroom together.”
The next day she was off. She could spend the entire morning getting her apartment organized. Then she remembered Linda’s barbecue in the afternoon and briefly contemplated canceling, but feared that if she did, Linda might show up on her doorstep demanding to know where she was. The woman was persistent.
And, Quinn had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing Honor away from the emergency room. Although why, she couldn’t imagine. Honor showed not the slightest interest in her, and she was clearly involved in a relationship.
“That’s probably just what I need. As soon as I see her with her partner, I’ll stop thinking about her smile.”
As she heaved herself to her feet and rummaged around in a nearby carton for clean jeans and a shirt, Quinn tried to pretend that she wasn’t lying to herself.
“There’s our intrepid new attending,” Linda commented as she pulled the car wide around Quinn on her bicycle. It had stopped raining, but the streets were still slick.
Honor glanced out the window from the passenger seat as they passed Quinn. “God, you’d think she’d at least have the good sense to wear a helmet.”
“There’s hardly much traffic at this time, or on this street at any time of day,” Linda pointed out, surprised at the vehemence in Honor’s voice.
“All it takes is one car to hit her.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
Linda spared her friend a quick glance, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. “You don’t look okay. Is Arly all right?”
“She’s doing fine. The first thing she did when she woke up this morning was run into the bathroom to look at her eye. Now she can’t wait to show everyone at school.”
Both women laughed.
“So what’s going on?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Honor insisted. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Okay. I’ll stop nudging.”
“Promises, promises.”
After gathering their lunches and briefcases from the car, they walked toward the ER. Quinn cycled to a halt nearby and dismounted.
“Hi,” Quinn called, shrugging out of her backpack as she looked in their direction.
“Hi.” Linda smiled brightly and gave a little wave.
“You ought to get a helmet,” Honor noted sharply as she passed.
Quinn stared after her. Good morning to you, too.
“I need your opinion,” Quinn said quietly, folding her arms on the counter and looking down at Honor, who was seated on the opposite side. When gold-flecked brown eyes met hers, Quinn’s pulse gave a little jump. She cleared her throat. “If you’ve got a minute.”
“Of course.” Honor initialed the lab report she was reviewing, clipped it to her current patient’s chart, and regarded Quinn neutrally. They’d barely said one word to each other for the entire ten hours of the shift. It had been a busy day, but even with that, she had the feeling they were both intentionally avoiding one another. Still, seeing her brought a whisper of warmth to Honor’s depths. Carefully keeping her voice steady, she asked, “What have you got?”
“A seventeen-year-old girl with severe abdominal pain, nausea, and vomiting.”
“Pelvic inflammatory disease?” One of the common causes of abdominal pain in young women was infection in the uterus or fallopian tubes from sexually transmitted diseases, most often gonorrhea. Honor was surprised that Quinn was asking her opinion about someone with abdominal pain, because that was one of the classic symptom complexes surgeons were taught to evaluate and diagnose.
“Nope.” Quinn turned to face Honor as she came around the counter. They were close enough to touch, but the distance between them was palpable. “She denies recent sexual activity, and I believe her. Her pelvic exam is completely unremarkable.”