Radclyffe - Fated Love

by Fated Love (lit)

  "I didn't expect anything to be resolved until next week," Quinn replied quietly, forcing calm when she felt anything but. Still, she didn't want to fight with Honor, and in her rational mind, she appreciated Honor's sense of responsibility.

  "First thing Monday morning, I'll talk to the chief of medicine and the attorneys."

  "Thanks. If you need my cardiologist's contact info, I can give you that." She hesitated. "I'll sign a release for you to get copies of my records, too, if you want."

  "I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering." Appreciating what an invasion of privacy this was for Quinn, and grateful for her cooperation, Honor sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry to put you through this, Quinn. But I'm the head of the department, and I have to be certain that all contingencies have been considered and that we're free from liability."

  A muscle bunched along the edge of Quinn's jaw, but she merely nodded.

  Speaking almost to herself, Honor muttered, "This could have been avoided if Mary Ann hadn't hired you before I could interview you."

  "What do you mean?" Quinn leaned forward, her expression piercingly intent.

  Honor regarded Quinn steadily. "What would you have said if I had asked you why you weren't planning on practicing surgery? And I would have asked."

  "I would have said that I had a medical condition that presently prevented me from doing that."

  "And when I asked for details?"

  "I would have told you," Quinn said immediately.

  "Precisely." Honor ran a hand through her hair. "Mary Ann Jones is an excellent administrator, and I'm very happy to have her as my chief when it's time to negotiate for salary lines and to keep surgery from swallowing up my department." At Quinn's raised eyebrow, Honor laughed. "It's true and you know it. You're all a bunch of territorial bandits."

  "She didn't ask me, Honor." She blew out a breath. "I needed this job. I wanted this j ob. I wasn't about to make an announcement that would endanger my chance of getting it."

  "I can understand that," Honor replied. And she could. "But I'm responsible for the ER, Quinn, and at some point, I should have been involved in the decision."

  "I guess I can see why you weren't real happy to see me show up." Quinn reached over and touched her shoulder. "Sorry."

  Honor flushed, surprised by the contact, because Quinn rarely initiated it, and embarrassed by her behavior when Quinn first arrived. "I was irritated...actually, I was mightily pissed off...that Mary Ann had gone over my head in hiring you. That wasn't your fault. I apologize for the cool welcome—you didn't deserve that."

  "No matter." Quinn turned the empty mug on her knee, staring out over the expanse of green lawn enclosed by a wood privacy fence. Honor's yard was smaller than Linda and Robin's, but still ample and more private. At the moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Softly, she asked the one thing that really did matter. "Would you have hired me?"

  For a long moment, Honor didn't answer. She'd heard the uncertain note in Quinn's voice and seen the faint tremor in the fingers ,that cradled the ceramic mug. For the first time, she truly appreciated how difficult it must be for Quinn—-a woman who was used to being the best, who had achieved far more than most people her age or even older—to suddenly find herself in a position where her value and worth were brought into question. "It would have been hard to turn you down."

  Quinn turned her head in Honor's direction and smiled wryly. "Spoken like a true administrator."

  "No, I'm completely serious." Honor reached out and rested her hand on Quinn's arm. "You're quite a catch, Quinn Maguire."

  It was Quinn's turn to blush. "Is that your professional assessment?"

  "Partially."

  "And the other part?" Quinn found herself holding her breath as she watched the rich color swirl in Honor's eyes, heavy and drowningly deep.

  "Personal...observation." Honor's voice was honey thick. "You're sensitive, and kind, and tender. All good qualities in an... ER physician."

  "And you base that on what?" Quinn was embarrassed, but pleased. "My stellar bedside manner?"

  "No." Honor's fingers drifted down Quinn's arm until they rested on the top of her hand. "On the way you treat my child." And me.

  Quirm leaned forward, drawn to the tenderness in Honor's gaze. "She brings out my best side."

  "Just wait," Honor murmured, watching Quinn's lips move as she spoke, mesmerized by their moist promise, "until you see what she can bring out in you on one of her bad days."

  "I look forward to it." Quinn found it hard to take a full breath because she feared that the tiniest movement would fracture their fragile connection. "She must be like you, that way. You bring out... things...in me, too."

  "Good things?" Honor's voice had dropped so low that the words were barely a hum in her throat.

  "Wonderful things."

  They were inches apart, their bodies nearly touching, their fingers lightly entwined. The air was still, warm, and somewhere a carillon sent its melody into the clear morning sky.

  "Quinn."

  "Yes?"

  Honor blinked, and her eyes focused as if awakening from a dream. "I have to go to work."

  "I know. And I should go home." Quinn eased back in the chair, oddly content even as Honor moved away and their hands separated. They had broached a few of the things that stood between them. Her illness. Terry. It was a start.

  "I want to put your immobilizer on you first," Honor stated.

  Quinn groaned.

  "Yes," Honor's tone brooked no argument. "You need your meds, too, don't you?"

  "Tylenol will do—I'm done with the narcotics. They make me too sluggish."

  Honor hesitated. "I meant your heart meds."

  "Oh." Quinn grimaced, hating that Honor would even think of it. "Yeah."

  "Phyllis will be here any minute, and she'll be making breakfast. At least stay for that, all right?" It seemed like a natural request, and Honor saw no reason for Quinn to know that she just wanted her to stay a little while longer. Secretly, though, she found it harder and harder to deny that she enjoyed the way Quinn stirred her. Just when she thought she had everything under control, Quinn would say something or do something to turn her carefully constructed existence upside down. And she liked the way that felt. Edgy and exciting and alive.

  "I don't have anything wrong with my head," Quinn said adamantly, rising and stretching. "If Phyllis is making breakfast, then I'm staying."

  "Ah, I can see that you're a woman whose stomach calls the shots."

  Quinn grinned. ''Now and then." With you, though, it's my heart.

  Seeing the echo of the sentiment in Quinn's eyes, Honor flushed. "Then come along, Dr. Maguire. Let's find your missing immobilizer, and then breakfast."

  Knowing when she was beaten, Quinn just sighed. But as she followed Honor into the house, she was smiling.

  * * * * *

  Thirteen and a half hours later, Honor pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine, and leaned her head back. Closing her eyes, she sighed and gathered herself to greet her family. After a long day at work, she was tired and talked out. But Arly would be waiting, excited to see her after the hours apart and eager to share the day's events. It wasn't that Honor wasn't interested, or didn't enjoy every moment with her daughter, but sometimes she simply felt drained. After a minute, she gathered her briefcase and headed for the house.

  When she walked through the back door, the first thing she noticed was the unmistakable aroma of pizza. She groaned out loud in grateful anticipation. No cooking, no cleanup. Thank God.

  The next thing she heard was Arly's excited chatter, and she frowned as she caught snippets of the conversation. It sounded very much as if her daughter was discussing livers and kidneys. For dinner?

  Honor dropped her briefcase on the kitchen table and walked through the house to the living room, where she stopped in stunned surprise. Arly and Quinn sat on the floor with a newspaper spread out between them, covere
d with what appeared to be...body parts. Very tiny body parts.

  "Hello?"

  Arly looked up, her eyes shining. "Hi, Mom! Look. We're painting organs."

  Eyes narrowing, Honor approached and squatted down between Quinn and her daughter. "I see that. A yellow liver and purple kidneys. Lovely."

  "It's the Visible Woman," Arly informed her enthusiastically, pointing to the two halves of the plastic figure and its associated anatomically correct parts. "Quinn got it for me."

  Honor glanced at Quinn, then did a double take when she saw that Quinn's cheek was streaked with blood. Blood that, upon closer inspection, revealed itself to be red paint. She reached out her thumb and brushed at the smudge. "Did she, now?"

  Quinn's eyes widened at the soft touch that was almost a caress, but she kept her tone light. "It was a choice between unpacking boxes or going shopping. The choice was clear." She pointed to her left arm, dutifully restrained in the immobilizer. "Besides, I'm not supposed to do any heavy labor with my injured arm, so household chores were out."

  "Oh, now you have an incapacitating injury," Honor said, laughing. "Where's Phyllis?"

  "Right here, dear," Phyllis said, entering with a stack of paper plates and the pizza that she had just removed from the oven. "This morning, I made Quinn promise to come over for supper. Instead, she brought it. We were just keeping this warm until you got home."

  Honor wanted to weep. The food smelled wonderful, and it didn't require any preparation. Arly was suitably occupied and loving it. And Quinn, whom she hadn't expected to see for at least a few days, and then under potentially difficult circumstances, was sprawled on her living-room floor, looking relaxed in jeans and a fresh white T-shirt, and appearing astonishingly at home. That very fact should have frightened her, but it didn't. For the first time in a very long time, everything felt precisely right.

  Honor helped Phyllis pass out the plates with pizza and the napkins and then settled back on the floor next to Arly to simply enjoy the moment.

  "Quinn," Arly said seriously, "what color should we do the heart?"

  "Well," Quinn said thoughtfully, touching the miniature lifelike replica, "what color do you imagine when you think about it?"

  Arly frowned in concentration. "Red, 'cause I have pajamas with hearts that color."

  "I think red is a very good color for the heart."

  Honor watched as Arly opened the red paint bottle and selected a brush to color the small plastic heart. Her movements were careful, and she appeared very serious as she worked. Smiling, Honor looked up to find Quinn watching her watch Arly. What she saw in Quinn's eyes made her heart turn over. She had said earlier that Quinn was kind and tender and sensitive, and she was. But that wasn't what simmered in those blue eyes now, or what made her own heart pound wildly. Now there was undisguised wanting so intense that Honor shivered with the heat of it.

  "Is it okay?" Quinn whispered.

  Quinn might've been speaking of her present to Arly, but Honor didn't think so.

  "Oh, it's much more than okay."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Q uinn gathered up the paper plates and pizza box and whispered to Honor, "I should go." She nodded in the direction of the sofa, where Arly had fallen asleep. Honor looked ready to join her.

  Honor had been drifting, her feet curled under her on the sofa, a baseball game on television. Quinn sat on the floor, her back against the front of the couch, where she'd been since they'd finished the pizza an hour earlier. It had been an unexpectedly pleasant evening.

  Voice still heavy with lassitude, Honor said, "I still have to take Pooch for his nightly neighborhood reconnaissance. If you wait until I get Arly upstairs, we'll walk you home,"

  "Okay." Quinn glanced down in the direction of her left arm, which was still restrained against her side. "I'd help carry her, but—"

  "It's no problem. I'm used to it." Honor smiled and got to her feet. "But thanks. If you could give Phyllis a hand taking that stuff into the kitchen, that would be great."

  "Sure." Quinn continued with the cleanup detail and watched as Honor easily lifted Arly, who curled up into her mother's arms without waking. It was obvious that the maneuver was second nature to them both. When Honor headed upstairs, Quinn went into the kitchen.

  "Where should I put the trash?" she asked Phyllis.

  "The bin is underneath that cabinet there to your right, but you don't have to do that, Quinn. Just leave it on the counter."

  Quinn shook her head. "It's no problem. I've got it."

  "It was nice of you to have dinner delivered. And especially to bring the model for Arly." Phyllis smiled fondly. "She loved it."

  Faintly embarrassed, Quinn shrugged. "It was the least I could do after all of your hospitality last night and this morning." And I wanted to see Honor again.

  "Well, you are very welcome, any time." Phyllis leaned against the counter and observed Quinn with interest. "How old are you, Quinn?"

  "Twenty-eight." Quinn waited, curious.

  "You seem older than that."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Well, let's see—you just moved here, you just started a new job, and you suddenly find yourself temporarily incapacitated." Phyllis nodded toward Quinn's shoulder. "Nevertheless, you seem to be taking it all in stride. That's pretty impressive."

  "Not really." Quinn laughed. "I'm still living out of cartons, I'm worried about missing work because of my shoulder, and even without that, Honor might end up firing—" She broke off, blushing uncomfortably. "Uh..."

  "As I said," Phyllis stated evenly, allowing the reference to Honor and Quinn's professional business to pass, "you're remarkably calm."

  Settling on the stool beside the table, Quinn contemplated Phyllis's words. "I'm not sure I'm actually calm. I just seem to have this place inside me where things stop moving for a while. I go there, I guess, when everything outside of me is moving too fast."

  Phyllis smiled softly at the simple way Quinn described something so essential. "I think there are a lot of people who would pay a lot of money to find a way to do something like that. That must be helpful when you're performing surgery."

  "Yes," Quinn replied pensively. "In the operating room, even in the middle of a trauma, I can feel myself go there...everything becomes very clear and very sharp and very, very focused."

  "A truly important skill, I imagine." Phyllis was captivated by Quinn's expression, a look both amazed and sad at the same time.

  "I don't know if it's a skill." Quinn sighed softly, giving Phyllis a weary smile. "It just seems to be the way I'm made."

  Honor leaned against the door from the hall, listening to the tail end of the conversation between her mother-in-law and a woman whose appeal she was finding very hard to resist. From where she stood, she could see Quinn's face in profile, and, listening to Quinn speak of surgery, she recalled their first meeting over the body of the gunshot victim. That day, her very first impression of Quinn had been one of intensity and competence along with a healthy dose of surgical arrogance. Now when she looked at her, she could still sense those things, but it was Quinn's exquisite tenderness and innate sensitivity that pulled at Honor's heart. Seeing the melancholy darken the handsome features, Honor wanted nothing more in that moment than to cross the room and put her arms around Quinn. You 're hurting, I can feel it. God, how I hate to be the one to hurt you more.

  Feigning a mood far lighter than she felt, Honor crossed the kitchen and announced, "She's out for the count." Glancing at Phyllis, she added, "I'll just take Pooch for a short run around the block."

  "No need to hurry. I'll just watch television until you get back. I don't have anything else planned." Nodding to Quinn, she said, "You get some rest now. I'm sure everything will be fine."

  Everyone keeps saying that. But I still don't see how. Quinn got to her feet. "Good night, Phyllis. It was good to see you again."

  Having heard his name a moment before, Pooch had rushed to the back door and now sat expectantly, tail wagging, h
ead cocked at an angle and bright black eyes fixed on Honor's face. A fow-pitched whine reverberated in his throat.

  "Just a second," Honor grumped in the dog's direction as she fished his lead out of the closet. "God, you'd never think that a walk around the block, smelling every little bit of odious detritus, could be so exciting."

  Quinn laughed out loud. "My life should be so simple."

  As Honor clipped the lead to the dog's collar, she laughed along with Quinn. Together, they walked down the back steps with the dog forging happily ahead.

  It was just after nine, and it was not yet completely dark. Here and there the faint echoes of neighborhood children still at play drifted in the air. The aroma of a late-night supper on a backyard grill floated on a faint breeze. Quinn took a slow deep breath, and amazingly, felt some of her tension ebb as she looked at the woman beside her. Honor had changed into another pair of shorts and a baggy PMC T-shirt. She looked like the medical student that Quinn had mistaken her for on first sight. She looked beautiful.

  As if feeling Quinn's gaze upon her, Honor turned her head and looked into Quinn's eyes, smiling. "What?"

  Quinn considered not answering, or not acknowledging the truth. But there wasn't room inside her to keep one more secret—not from herself, and not from Honor. "With everything that's going on in my life right now, I can't figure out why I should feel so happy, but I do. I think it has something to do with being with you."

  For a few seconds, Honor was speechless. From anyone else, it would have sounded like a come-on line, but Quinn had delivered it with such quiet sincerity that Honor knew that it wasn't. And because of that, she did not dismiss the sentiment with her usual quick brush-off.

  There had been a few women over the years who had expressed interest in getting to know her socially. Some had been acquaintances of hers and Terry's, and they had waited what probably seemed to them like an appropriate length of time before calling to ask her out to dinner or a party. Others were women she met at the hospital or at neighborhood social functions who knew nothing of her past, at least not from her. Honor was certain that if anyone had asked around, they would have been able to hear some version of what had happened to her lover. It was not a story that she shared easily. She had said no to all of them, and eventually, the invitations, at least for dates, had stopped.