Crossroads

Chapter Nine

“Arly, can you check to make sure we packed Jack’s truck?” Honor tore off a strip of cling wrap and covered the large orange Fiesta bowl filled with her signature salad. She paused, the air in the room suddenly shifting, warming, carrying the scent of piney woods and spring showers. A tingle of anticipation shot through her. She waited, looking out through the window above the big cast-iron kitchen sink at the huge elm in their backyard, at her children’s toys scattered over the lawn, at the small garden she’d planted with Phyllis a few weeks ago. Her life unfolded around her and solidified with the embrace that came when Quinn’s arms slid around her middle. Honor settled against Quinn, her butt nestling against the front of Quinn’s thighs. “Hi. I thought you were catching up on your reading.”

“I was, but I missed you.” Quinn kissed Honor’s neck. “Jack’s dump truck is in the basket with all our other supplies. Are we moving in with Robin and Linda?”

Laughing, Honor tilted her head and kissed Quinn on the side of the mouth. “If we want to have a drama-free afternoon, we have to think ahead.”

“Every possible contingency is covered.” Quinn tugged on the cling wrap and uncovered part of the salad bowl. Honor slapped her hand when she tried to snag a few macaronis. “Just a little.”

“You have to wait.”

Quinn nuzzled Honor’s neck. “Story of my life.”

“Poor you.” Honor nipped at the edge of Quinn’s jaw. “Tell me it wasn’t worth waiting for.”

“Oh, more than worth it.” Quinn chuckled and ran her hands up and down Honor’s sides, slowly turning her until they were face-to-face. “Hi, remember me?”

“You look familiar.” Honor’s breath hitched and the buzz of anticipation grew heavy in her loins.

“Let’s see if I can jog your memory.” Quinn pressed forward, capturing Honor between her body and the counter. She kissed Honor’s throat and down to the hollow between her collarbones. Honor tasted as pure as sunshine and elusive as moonlight. “I’d wait forever for a moment with you.”

Honor spread her fingers through Quinn’s hair, holding her to her skin, cleaving to her body. “All the days of my life and beyond. All yours.”

“Can we skip the barbecue?”

“I’m afraid not. My salad, remember?”

Quinn opened the buttons on Honor’s polo shirt and kissed the soft pale skin between her breasts. “How long do you think we’d have before they came looking for us?”

“An hour?”

“More than enough time.” Quinn tugged Honor’s shirt from the waistband of her shorts and slipped one hand underneath. She stroked lightly, her thighs tightening when Honor shivered.

“Stop.” Laughing, Honor grabbed Quinn’s wrist and tugged her hand away. “Not when we have two hungry kids who’ve been waiting all morning to go to the barbecue.”

“Oh, them.” Quinn rubbed her cheek over Honor’s shirt above her breast and grinned up at her. “Whose idea was that again?”

“You’re as responsible as I am.”

“Mom?” Arly raced into the kitchen and skidded to a halt. “Geez, you guys. It’s not even noon.”

“It’s one,” Quinn said, straightening and surreptitiously lowering Honor’s shirt, shielding Honor so she could get herself back together. “Besides, is there some rule about that?”

Arly shoved both hands on her hips and frowned. “I don’t know, but there probably ought to be.”

Quinn studied her twelve-year-old daughter, trying to decide if she was really upset. Arly was at the age where sex was alternately intriguing and repelling. She and Honor had never made any secret about the nature of their relationship. Still, they tried to be affectionate without exposing the kids to more than they wanted to see.

Arly grinned. “Of course, it probably wouldn’t work with you two.”

“Enough.” Honor lifted the salad bowl and held it out to Arly. “Take this while we collect Jack. Do you have everything you need for this afternoon?”

“I’ve got my bathing suit, and my iPad, and my phone, and—oh, Quinn, Robin called. You’re supposed to bring the volleyball.”

“Got it.” Quinn kissed Honor quickly. “See you at the car.”

Honor watched Quinn leave, still captivated by the tight, powerful lines of her body and the fierce focus in her deep blue eyes. She caught Arly watching her contemplatively. “Does it bother you? When we’re affectionate?”

“Mom. Geez.”

“Serious question, Arl.”

Arly shook her head. “No, why should it? Quinn is cool, and she loves you.”

“She loves all of us.”

“I know. That’s good. I love her too.”

The tightness around Honor’s heart relaxed. “I know.”

“Nick Raymond told me about this party Friday night at Allison Knickerbocker’s,” Arly said in a rush. “He sort of asked me if I wanted to go.”

Honor took the salad from Arly and set it on the kitchen table. She pointed to a chair. “Sit.” She pulled out a chair and sat facing her daughter. “What did you tell him?”

“That I’d think about it.”

“How old is he?”

Arly fidgeted. “Sixteen.”

Honor had an image of Quinn throttling the boy. “So what did you think about it?”

“I thought I better tell you, and if I did you’d say no.”

“Chances are the crowd is going to be Nick’s age or even older, and that’s too old for you. I know you want to have private time with your friends, and getting together with them is fine. But the rules are still the same. I need to know where you are and who you’re with and what you’re doing, each and every time.”

“I know.”

“And parties at people’s houses with kids who are three or four years older than you are not okay. I’m sorry.”

Arly studied her red Converse sneakers. “That’s okay. I didn’t really want to go anyways. I don’t really like him all that much.”

“I’m glad you told me, and you’ll tell me every time something like this comes up, right?”

Arly nodded, still studying her sneakers. “I’m not sure I like boys.”

“Okay.”

“What if I like girls?” Arly raised her eyes and met Honor’s with a hint of belligerence in the set of her jaw.

Everyone said Arly looked like her, with her blond hair and brown eyes, but there were times when she reminded her so much of Quinn. Her intensity, her strength, her determination. “Is that a problem, honey?”

“Not for me,” Arly said.

Honor laughed. “Why would you think it would be a problem for me?”

“Sometimes parents don’t want their kids to be like them.”

Honor threaded her fingers through Arly’s. “What I want is for you to do what makes you happy. What feels right for you. Boys, girls, it doesn’t matter to me as long as they treat you right and make you happy.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not all that interested in anybody right now.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m just as glad.”

Arly jumped up, her worried expression fading. “So can we go to the barbecue now?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

*

“Hey, Hollis. Glad you could make it,” Robin said. She wore cut-offs and a white apron adorned with a soccer ball on a skewer above the words Serve It Up.

“Thanks. Quite the crowd.” Hollis handed Robin the wine she’d snagged from her kitchen on the way out the door. She hadn’t thought about bringing anything until then—her social skills were pretty rusty. The backyard of Robin and Linda’s attached twin was crowded with men, women, kids, and dogs. And at least one ferret.

“Help yourself to anything you want. If you need anything, holler.”

“Will do.” Hollis wandered a few minutes and finally settled on an unoccupied garden bench underneath one of the large maple trees that dotted the yard. Three picnic tables were arranged in a horseshoe and covered with food, buckets of ice, and paper plates and cups. She scanned the gathering and picked out quite a few people she recognized from the hospital, although she didn’t know most of their names. She looked again, more carefully, disappointment burning through her. She didn’t see Annie. She checked her watch. If she stayed fifteen or twenty minutes, she could sneak out without seeming rude. No one would notice if she left.

“Hey, Hollis,” Linda said, pausing with an armload of plastic ware. “Get something to drink—food will be up in a minute. There’s alcoholic and non- in the coolers by the tables. Anything you see is fair game.”

“Okay, thanks,” Hollis said.

Linda waved her fingers and hurried on. Hollis sauntered over to one of the tables and grabbed a Guinness. As the weatherman had promised, the day was clear and hot. Afternoon temperatures in the eighties were expected.

“Hollis—just the person I need,” Robin said from behind her.

Hollis turned. “What’s up?”

“I need some help stringing this volleyball net. Come on.”

“Uh, sure.” Hollis followed Robin down the length of the sloping yard to a grassy area on the far side of a big rectangular swimming pool.

“This looks good,” Robin said. “You hold one of the poles here and I’ll get the other one in opposite you.”

“Got it.” Hollis gripped the flexible metal pole with the attached net and steadied it against her hip as Robin unrolled the rest of the net and walked twenty feet away. Robin worked the pole into the ground until that end was steady, and then Hollis put the net on some tension and got her end into the ground.

“Good job. Listen,” Robin said, “how good are you at volleyball?”

“Huh, I don’t know. I haven’t played since high school, and it wasn’t really my game then.”

“But you’ve played before?”

“Like I said—about a million years ago.”

“Well, that’s about a million years more recent than most of the people here. You’re on my team.”

“Actual—”

Before Hollis could protest or come up with a plausible excuse, Robin was already powering around the yard, tapping people on the shoulder. It appeared she was going to have to play volleyball.

Forty minutes later, her T-shirt was soaked, her hair was matted to her neck, and their side was up two points. Robin was relentless, coaching the team with a combination of enthusiasm and dire predictions as to what might happen if they lost. Mostly it sounded like no one would get anything to eat if they weren’t victorious, and at the moment, that was inspiration enough. Hollis was starving.

The serve came her way, she set the ball, and Quinn spiked it for a point. Robin yelled, “One more point.” Kids ran around the perimeter of the court, cheering on their parents. Hollis heard her name called and glanced to her right. Callie, in a bright yellow sundress and green sneakers, waved and Hollis grinned.

“Hey, Callie.” She looked for Annie but didn’t see her. “Where’s your—” A hard thud against her temple knocked her off balance and she went down. She rolled onto her back and tried to figure out what had just happened. The grass smelled sweetly of crushed clover and white fluffy clouds swirled overhead.

“Holy crap!” Robin leaned over her. “You really got nailed. You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I guess I should’ve been watching the game.” Hollis rubbed her temple and felt a tender area as big as a lemon above her left eye. “Smarts.”

“Hey, Hollis,” Honor said, kneeling on her other side. “That was pretty impressive. Except I think when you hit the ball with your head you’re supposed to be aiming for it to go back over the net. Or maybe that’s soccer. How’s your vision?”

“All systems go.” Hollis pushed up to a sitting position. “Really, I’m fine. I just got caught by surprise, that’s all.”

“Well, we better put some ice on it.” Honor cupped Hollis’s chin and tilted her face up, studying her intently. “I think you’re going to have a shiner.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” Hollis pushed to her feet and swayed, a little bit dizzy.

“Whoa.” Robin grasped her arm. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, really, I am.” Hollis felt like an idiot, happy now that Annie wasn’t there. How uncool could she be?

“Well, at least sit in the shade and I’ll get some ice,” Robin said.

“No, I can get it. You have a game to win.” Hollis gave Robin a little push toward the field. “I don’t want everybody on our side to go hungry just because I wasn’t paying attention.”

“If you’re sure,” Robin said.

“I’m sure. Really, I’m fine.” Hollis hurried off the field so the game could continue and spied Callie staring at her with an uncertain expression. She knelt down beside her. “Hi, Callie. I wasn’t watching the game and I got smacked with the ball, but I’m okay.”

“It knocked you down.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Well, it stings a little bit, but it’ll be fine. Where’s your mom?”

“She had a baby call last night. I stayed with Suzy and Dan and Gillian and Mark. I came with them.”

“Having fun?”

“Yes. I’m going swimming soon.”

“That’s great.” The wave of disappointment was back, stronger than before. Hollis didn’t know what to make of it. She liked Annie and looked forward to seeing her, but the intensity of her reaction wasn’t like her. “I’m going to go get some ice. You have a good time today, okay?”

“Okay.”

Hollis found an empty lounge chair and, after securing a few ice cubes in a plastic bag, stretched out and pressed the makeshift cold compress to her forehead. It helped with the sting, but not the embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself get smacked by the ball. Her head throbbed, but she actually felt pretty good. The exertion had been a welcome switch-up from her usual workout on the bike, and she’d enjoyed being part of the team. She closed her eyes and drifted in the sunshine. When a weight on the lounge signaled someone had settled beside her, she opened her eyes. Annie smiled down at her. Hollis’s heart gave a little jog.

“Hi,” Hollis said.

“Hi yourself.” Annie pushed the cold compress away from Hollis’s forehead and studied her seriously. “Callie told me you got hurt. Are you all right?”

“I’m not really hurt,” Hollis said hastily, dropping the icepack on the grass by the chair. She pushed her damp hair out of her face. “Just a silly accident. Nothing much.”

“Hmm,” Annie said, lightly tracing the bruise on Hollis’s face. “I think you might be understating things. You’ve got a lump on your forehead and your upper eyelid is starting to turn purple.”

Hollis held very still. She didn’t want Annie to stop stroking her. The light caress sent tendrils of heat streaming through her. “All from a friendly backyard game.”

Annie laughed. “I’ve been watching some of that game. If I didn’t know they were all friends, I wouldn’t believe it. Talk about competitive.”

“Well, I guess you have to consider the crowd. Pretty much everybody here is competitive by nature.”

“I’m glad it’s not more serious.” Annie dropped her hand and leaned away. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I didn’t get around to it before Robin commandeered me to play.”

“I was just about to fix myself and Callie a plate. I’ll get you one too. Anything you can’t eat?”

“No, believe me, anything you bring will be welcome.” Hollis rubbed her stomach. “I’m actually starving.”

“Me too.”

“Callie told me you got called out last night. Were you up all night?”

“Not quite,” Annie said noncommittally. “I got a little sleep this morning.”

“Just another typical Saturday night, then,” Hollis said.

Annie nodded. “I guess you know what that’s like.”

“Oh, absolutely. I can have the quietest week in the world, but as soon as Friday afternoon comes around, it gets busy. Babies just seem to know when the sun goes down, especially if it’s a weekend.”

“You’ve got that right.” Annie stood abruptly. “Well, let me get you that food.”

Hollis watched her wend her way through the crowd to the table, take plates from a stack, and start filling them, quickly and efficiently. No one ever waited on her unless she was home. No one worried if she’d had enough sleep or enough to eat or had a chance to decompress after a big case. She liked things that way and hadn’t missed it. Until now, when Annie reminded her how nice it was to have someone who cared.