Crossroads

Chapter Twenty-five

“Thanks,” Hollis said, accepting the cup of coffee Honor handed to her. She settled into the curve of the wooden deck chair on the back porch next to Quinn. She’d almost canceled the dinner invitation when she’d gotten home from the bike shop, still reeling from Annie’s rejection. The day had been so goddamned perfect she’d been blindsided. She’d let down her guard and she’d paid for it. She had good reasons for not letting people get close to her, and Annie had proved her right. Opening herself up, letting herself care, was an invitation to be hurt, and when the people she loved inevitably disappeared from her life, she bled. Annie had made her forget about her vow not to bleed again. Annie, with her warm touch and knowing eyes. Annie, together with Callie’s infectious joy and innocent excitement, had cracked open the shell surrounding her heart and teased her with the promise of happiness. She hadn’t been looking for happiness, she’d been content with the life she had. She ought to thank Annie for the reminder. Maybe she would, when the pain dulled and she could think rationally again.

“You two want some pie?” Honor asked.

“No, thanks,” Hollis said, forcing herself to stay in the moment. “Dinner was so good I didn’t leave any room.”

The raucous evening with Honor and Quinn and their kids, and Linda and Robin and theirs, had helped keep her mind off Annie. Linda and Robin had already left, Arly had taken Jack over to their grandmother’s next door, and the quiet left in their wake was soothing if a little hollow. Damn it—she missed Annie and Callie. God, it hurt.

Quinn looked over her shoulder at Honor. “Need help in there?”

“No,” Honor said, brushing her fingers over the back of Quinn’s head. “There’s not much to do. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Sounds like you and Arly have been doing some pretty serious cycling,” Hollis said to Quinn. Night was coming on quickly, and the backyard was a mass of shifting shadows as the moon rose over the large maple trees.

“Pretty serious for me,” Quinn said. “Arly’s the natural. She never gets tired. I’m going to have to work some to keep up with her on a ninety-mile haul.”

Quinn didn’t sound like she minded the challenge.

“I thought I’d ride in it too,” Hollis said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything of that distance, though.”

“We’ve still got a couple of months to put in some hours. How much do you usually ride?” Quinn asked.

“Twenty miles or so, four or five times a week.”

Quinn snorted. “Sounds like you’ll be fine, then. I’m lucky if I can get out three times a week. But Arly’s got her heart set on this ride, so I’m going to make it, no matter what I have to do.”

Hollis cradled her coffee cup in both hands, remembering the glint in Arly’s eyes and the excitement in her voice when she’d explained over dinner how Quinn was training with her so they could ride in the Ride for Life together. Arly’s enthusiasm reminded her of Callie’s earlier in the day, when she’d picked out her bike and climbed on for the first time. Hollis envied Quinn that bond.

“You’re welcome to ride with us, if you want,” Quinn said. “Give me a little more incentive to keep up.”

“Doubt you’ll have any problem,” Hollis said. Quinn might not be a seasoned cyclist but she looked to be in great shape. She coached a couple of soccer teams—she had to be. “But if you’re looking for another team rider, I’d like that. I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been riding all my life. If you want me to take Arly out when you can’t make it, I’d be happy to do that.”

“Hell, Hollis,” Quinn said. “Arly’s twelve, and a smart, responsible rider. I’d be fine with her going out with you.”

“Thanks. How is she with early-morning rides?”

The screen door opened and closed behind them, and Honor sat down on the far side of Quinn. “I caught the tail end of that. Arly is a doctor’s daughter.” She smiled at Quinn and took her hand. “Two doctors. She’s used to getting up early.”

“She ought to be back from her grandmother’s soon,” Quinn said. “You can talk to her about your schedule then.”

“Okay,” Hollis said.

“In fact,” Quinn said, rising, “it’s time to put Jack to bed.” She leaned down and kissed Honor. “Relax—you worked hard doing dinner. My turn.”

Honor stroked Quinn’s arm. “See you soon.”

When Quinn disappeared down the stairs and across the yard toward the adjoining twin, Honor moved over into Quinn’s chair, her own cup of coffee in hand. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me too. Thanks for asking me.” Hollis looked out over the yard, took in the picnic table, the climbing set, the barbecue. Signs of a full life. “You’ve got a great family.”

“Thanks.” After a moment, Honor said quietly, “How are you?”

Hollis’s immediate reaction was to say fine, but Honor had offered her friendship, had opened her home to her, had shared her family with her. She didn’t have to pretend with her. “I’m not really sure. I’m trying to figure out what to do about a woman who says she’s not interested.”

Honor laughed softly. “Is that a rare occurrence?”

Hollis laughed too, Honor’s gentle teasing making it easier for her to talk. “Actually, I don’t really know. I don’t usually get into situations like that with women. Most of my relationships are kind of casual friendships. Nothing that requires any negotiating. But—” She stopped, wanting to protect Annie’s privacy.

“But this isn’t like that,” Honor finished for her.

“Exactly. She says she doesn’t want a relationship, but how can she know if she won’t even try?”

“Do you? Want a relationship, I mean.”

“Not long ago I would’ve said no.” Hollis sighed and tilted her head back, watching clouds sluice across the surface of the moon, glowing silver around the edges as they trapped the moonbeams inside. “Now I think—I’m not sure what I think. I just think I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a relationship expert—considering I’ve only had two serious relationships in my life—but I’m guessing you wouldn’t be so interested if you didn’t feel something coming back from her.”

“I told her to trust what she feels today, but I think what that really means is trust me. And she doesn’t.”

“Maybe given some time, she will.”

“Maybe.” Hollis sighed. “And maybe she’s right to back off.”

Honor squeezed Hollis’s knee briefly. “I can’t imagine waiting is easy—it wasn’t for me and I thought I wanted to get away.”

“Sorry to dump all this on you,” Hollis said, feeling foolish. She didn’t get hung up on women. Especially not women who walked out on her. “Probably smartest of me to let it go. Sometimes it’s better not to rock the boat.”

“Sometimes you’re right—and sometimes the boat needs rocking. I guess what really matters is that you can tell the difference.”

“I think this time the decision’s been made for me.”

*

The baby arrived at five fifty-nine Sunday morning with barely a fuss. She was, her father declared, as calm and quiet as her brother had been noisy. By seven, Annie was on her way to Suzanne’s to pick up Callie. She hadn’t slept, and she was exhausted in body and soul. The usual post-delivery exhilaration had faded quickly in the face of her thoughts of how she’d left things with Hollis. She’d made the right decision, she was certain of it, but she hadn’t expected the aftermath to hurt so much. The icy pain in Hollis’s eyes when she’d walked away had haunted her all night. Now all she wanted was to collect her daughter, get some sleep, and forget the ache that accompanied every breath.

She parked in front of the white clapboard twin, climbed the wooden steps to the porch, and rang the doorbell. A minute later Suzanne, a small curvy blonde, opened the door. “Hi. How did it go?”

“Wonderful. Healthy baby girl. Once Pam’s labor got going, it didn’t take her long.” Annie rolled her shoulders but couldn’t dispel the tightness. “I didn’t wake everyone up, did I?”

Suzanne laughed. “God, no. The kids have been up for an hour, and Dan and I just started making breakfast. Come on, your timing is perfect.”

“Oh,” Annie said, “I’ll just collect Callie and take her home. You’ve had her long enough.”

“Are you kidding? She’s easy, and she helps keep my two out of trouble. Believe me, I love having her. Besides, you know we always cook plenty. Go on back, sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee.”

“I’m too tired and too hungry to resist. Thanks.”

When Annie reached the kitchen, Callie launched herself into her arms with a welcoming cry. Annie wrapped her up and hugged her close, her fatigue and disillusionment falling away. She buried her face in Callie’s hair and drew deeply of the clean, pure scent of childhood. Usually, all it took was a few minutes with Callie for her to remember what was important in her life. Today, her contentment was undercut with sadness. Tired, she was just tired.

Callie wiggled lose, vibrating with energy. “I told Mark and Gillian they could see my bicycle. Can we show them my bicycle?”

“I don’t see why not,” Annie said, stroking Callie’s hair. “Can we wait until after breakfast? I’m really hungry.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Annie said when the tall, thin man with skin the color of burnished teak gave her a cup of coffee. She sipped it gratefully and slumped into a chair at the long wooden table. She’d been too busy most of the night to think of Hollis for more than a minute or two, and her work had helped her push her sadness aside. But she didn’t have work to do now, and Callie’s enthusiasm about her bicycle brought every minute of the day before back to her in vivid relief.

Hollis had been so good with Callie, and Callie was obviously enchanted with her. Unfortunately, so was she. Fortunately, enchantment was transitory.

She managed not to think of Hollis for the rest of the meal. After making plans with Suzanne and Dan to meet at her place later for lunch and an outing to the park with the kids and their bicycles, she took Callie home.

“Mommy is going to take a nap. You can play on the back porch and in the backyard, but not out front. You don’t go out the gate, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m sleeping, I’ll know if you budge.”

Callie laughed. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

Annie lay down on the bed fully clothed, not even bothering to close the blinds in her room. Despite what she’d told Callie, she was far from ready to fall asleep. Her mind was racing. Hollis’s voice played through her mind.

Someday you’re going to have to trust your feelings.

She did trust her feelings, but she trusted her experience more. Before she could over think her decision, she grabbed her cell off the dresser and called Barb.

“Annie?” Barb said, obviously having checked caller ID. “Problem?”

“Not really,” Annie said. “I’m sorry, Barb, but I’m not going to be able to finish the work on the exploratory committee for you. I’m not the right person for it. For what it’s worth, I think if the rest of the group is anything like Hollis Monroe, they won’t be difficult to work with.”

“So you’re endorsing the joint-clinic project?”

Annie hesitated. She thought of Hollis in the ER with Linda, remembered Hollis telling her about her struggle to avoid surgery on the bleeding mother, remembered Hollis with her that night years before. Trust me. “I don’t know what all the other physicians are like, but Hollis is ethically beyond reproach and I think her input will be invaluable.”

“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement.” Barb paused. “So you’re behind formalizing the association?”

Annie sighed, never having believed she would say this. “My vote is in favor.”

“And yet you can’t tell me why you want to be replaced?”

“Let’s just say it’s personal and leave it at that.”

When she ended the call, Annie closed her eyes, hoping for sleep. She ought to feel better, now that everything was settled. Maybe when she woke up, she would.