Crossroads

Chapter Twenty-six

Just before nine on Monday morning, Hollis walked down the hallway of the OB outpatient clinic, preparing herself to see Annie. She hadn’t stopped thinking of her the entire weekend. She’d never expected to get all tangled up with a woman this way, so hungry for her she ached, and she’d spent a lot of time reminding herself why she’d avoided intimate relationships for almost ten years. Sonja had walked out on her during one of the worst periods of her life. Rob’s wife had walked out on his memory, tearing a hole in their family and leaving even more sorrow in her wake. Everyone had been devastated, but Hollis had been destroyed. She didn’t care if her heart never recovered—she never planned to give it to anyone again. She knew better than to get attached and she’d momentarily forgotten, but she had things in perspective now. She knew what she was about. She and Annie got along well. They respected each other professionally. Hell, she even felt connected to Annie’s daughter. Callie was a bright flame who brought joy to her spirit every time she looked at her. There was no reason, absolutely none, that she and Annie couldn’t have a meaningful friendship. She could handle it. So could Annie. They were adults.

Feeling settled, satisfied with her decision, she rounded the corner and stopped at the counter fronting the nurses’ station. An instant pang of disappointment twisted through her when she didn’t see Annie, but she quickly pushed it aside. A large stack of charts waited for her attention at the end of the counter. One of the OB nurses came out of a patient room and put another chart on the stack.

“Hi, Jackie,” Hollis said, reaching for a chart. “Is Annie Colfax here yet? The midwife?”

Jackie gave her an odd look, and a woman sitting at the desk on the far side of the counter—a small blonde Hollis had taken to be a utilization review nurse or consulting physician—rose and held out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Suzanne Turner. I’m the midwife from GWWC. I’ll be taking Annie’s place.”

Hollis dropped the chart onto the counter. “What do you mean, taking Annie’s place?”

“We had to rearrange the schedule—she’s overcommitted. Besides,” Suzanne said brightly, “our supervisor thought it would be a good idea for us to rotate personnel while we’re in the information-gathering stage.”

A cold fist of anger settled in Hollis’s chest, pushing down on her diaphragm, making it hard for her to take a breath. Annie was walking out on her. Without even a good-bye. How could she just walk away? Like they’d never touched, never shared something special. For a second Hollis couldn’t think—couldn’t feel anything except betrayal. But Annie wasn’t Sonja, wasn’t Nancy. Annie had a heart, if only she’d believe it.

Hollis almost turned and left, but the stack of charts caught her eye. Every one of those files represented a woman who needed her—a woman waiting behind a closed door or in a hard plastic seat in the waiting area. Waiting for her.

Hollis picked up the chart she’d dropped. “Let’s get started, then. We’ve got a full morning.”

*

Callie came running down the sidewalk, waving a colorful sheet of paper like a flag. Seeing her unvarnished joy lifted some of the misery from Annie’s heart. “Hi, baby. What have you got there?”

“Look what I drew today!” Callie thrust the paper forward and Annie dutifully took it.

The plain sheet of construction paper was covered with a vivid crayon drawing in the sprawling perspective of a child. The central figure was obviously Callie, a small redhead with pink glasses holding on to a bright purple bicycle. Her smile was huge. Flanking her were two taller figures, one with dark hair, one with red-gold hair the same color as the little girl’s. Annie’s throat closed. Annie and Hollis and Callie. She wet her lips, willed her hands not to shake as she slowly lowered the paper. “This is great, Callie. I guess you told everyone about your bicycle, right?”

Callie nodded vigorously. “I’m going to ride it when I get home, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is Hollis coming over to ride with me?”

“I don’t think so, baby.” Annie held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s head home. I think we’ve got enough time for Mommy to go to the bike store and pick out a bicycle so I can ride with you.”

Callie’s eyes brightened, dispelling the shadow of disappointment that had settled there when she’d heard that Hollis wasn’t coming. Just seeing how much Hollis’s absence affected Callie after so short a time made Annie even more certain she’d made the right decision. Even if she was willing to risk her own heartbreak, she wouldn’t risk Callie’s. “Want to walk home through the park?”

“Yes. Did you remember the duck food?”

“Always.”

The park was unusually crowded, everyone trying to escape the sultry early summer heat for a few minutes in the shade of the big oaks. Annie made her way around the edge of the pond, searching for a bench or a grassy area where she could sit and watch Callie. She’d never noticed how many couples came to the park—everyone seemed to be holding someone else’s hand, exuberant teenagers in the first throes of new love, lovers strolling with heads bent close, elderly couples reading newspapers side by side, passing pages wordlessly back and forth in a well-choreographed duet.

Annie had never felt alone before, but she did today.

The benches were all occupied, but she found a thick grassy spot under a tree and settled down with her back against the wide trunk. The walking path was just a few feet in front of her, and on the far side of that, the pond. She opened her bag and handed Callie the duck food. “Go ahead. I can see you from here. Feed them right from the edge and try not to get your shoes in the water.”

Callie laughed. “I’ll try, but sometimes the water just comes up.”

Laughing, Annie said, “Do your best. I’ll be right here.”

As Callie raced to the water and squatted a safe distance from the edge, Annie allowed herself a minute to close her eyes, tired from two nights of restless sleep. The sky darkened through her closed lids, probably the sun dropping behind clouds. She couldn’t remember if rain was expected, and she opened her eyes to scan the sky. Not rain clouds. Hollis stood over her, blocking the sunlight. She was in scrubs, had probably just run out between cases. It was too early in the day for her to be done.

Annie’s pulse thundered in her ears.

“Mind if I sit down?” Hollis said.

“No, please,” Annie said, gesturing to the grass beside her.

Hollis sat cross-legged, far enough away that no part of their bodies touched. She faced the pond, her gaze distant. “Why did you quit the exploratory committee, and don’t tell me it’s because you’re too busy. You’ve been too busy since the beginning.”

Annie caught her breath. She’d never heard the flat, hard tone in Hollis’s voice before. Her face in profile was just as hard, etched in stone. “You’re angry.”

Hollis’s head whipped around. “Damn right I’m angry. You couldn’t have talked to me about it?”

Annie thought of a thousand rationalizations, none of them anything but flimsy excuses. “I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not? Why all of a sudden won’t you talk to me? You talked to me before—you told me things that mattered. Now all of a sudden nothing matters?”

Annie drew away from the pain and fury in Hollis’s voice. “Please, can we not do this?”

“I never took you for a coward.”

“But I am,” Annie said softly. “I am, I just hide it well.”

“Bullshit. Look at what you’ve done with your life. Look at her—” Hollis swept her hand toward Callie crouched by the pond. “You didn’t give up. You made a life for yourself and for her. You fought for her.” Hollis ran her hand through her hair. “You don’t know how many don’t.”

“Hollis,” Annie whispered, resting her hand on Hollis’s thigh. Hollis’s eyes were filled with so much pain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What do you want?”

“I want us—” to be friends. Annie stopped, ready to give the answer she knew so well, the answer that protected her, guarded her, kept her safe at night. Safe. Her parents had professed they’d only wanted to keep her safe even as they’d turned away from her. They knew what was best for her, and all she had to do to have a safe, happy life was listen to them. Give up her dreams, give up her daughter, and everything would be fine. She’d walked away from a life without choices, and now, it seemed she’d stopped making choices all on her own.

“I’m so afraid,” Annie whispered.

Beside her, Hollis’s stiff body relaxed and she let out a long breath. “Of what?”

“Of feeling, of needing.” She glanced at Hollis, saw the strength in her face, the gentleness in her eyes. “Of needing you.”

Hollis sucked in a shaky breath. “You think I’ll hurt you.”

“No,” Annie said, “I’m just afraid you will. I told you I was a coward.”

“Everyone is afraid.” Hollis watched Callie throw seeds onto the water. “Rob’s daughter would have been about twice Callie’s age by now. Sometimes when I look at Callie, I imagine what it would’ve been like to be part of her life. To watch her grow up.” She laughed shortly. “Everyone else in the family has boys, but Rob was going to have a daughter. He was beyond excited. He said she’d probably turn out to be just like me, and I was secretly so happy about that.”

Annie carefully took Hollis’s hand, afraid she might pull away but needing to touch her so much. “What happened?”

Hollis turned from watching Callie and gazed at Annie. “His wife—Nancy—couldn’t stand to be anywhere near the city after he was killed. Said the place terrified her. So she joined her best friend on a commune in West Virginia. She just up and left.”

“God, that must have been awful,” Annie murmured. “So many lives destroyed that day.”

“I know, and I think I understand why she left. We all reminded her of Rob, and when he died, we pulled closer together. Maybe she felt left out. But what she did…” Hollis clenched her jaw. So much pain.

“What,” Annie asked, rubbing Hollis’s suddenly cold hand between hers. “What did she do, sweetheart?”

“She didn’t just move away, she cut off all contact.” Hollis grimaced. “I tried to trace her, but the group she joined lived off the grid—growing their own food, making their own clothes, living a life completely different from what she’d had with Rob. She had a right to her own life, and when I couldn’t find any contact information, I gave up. Just hoped she’d reach out to us when the baby was born. Another mistake, probably.”

“She made the choice, and you respected that,” Annie said, thinking of all those who had never given her as much consideration, even when her choices had hurt no one. Hollis had been devastated by loss upon loss and still she’d accepted Nancy’s decision. Imagining Hollis’s pain sliced at her heart. She squeezed Hollis’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nancy decided to have the baby at the commune. They were fifty miles up a goddamned mountain with no medical backup. No midwife—at least not one with any kind of training—nothing.”

Annie’s stomach tightened. A home birth—no wonder Hollis had resented the idea. “She had problems?”

“We don’t know for sure what the hell happened. What she remembers—or is willing to tell us—is sketchy. My best guess is the cord prolapsed and they didn’t detect it until it was too late. The baby was born dead.”

“Oh, Hollis,” Annie murmured, her heart bleeding. “I am so, so sorry.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re nothing like her. I’m sorry.”

Hollis trembled, and that moved Annie more than Hollis’s anger or her own fears. Scooting closer, she wrapped both arms around Hollis’s waist. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s all right now.”

“Is it?” Hollis shuddered. “I don’t think so. If only Rob hadn’t been at the station that day.”

“Shh.” Annie stroked Hollis’s hair, her cheek, her neck. “That’s not your fault. You need to forgive yourself, Hollis.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” Annie whispered, and she felt the words in her soul. She wasn’t alone either.

After a long moment, Hollis drew away, rubbing her face as she sat upright. “Sorry. I thought I was past all of that.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

Hollis stood, hollow-eyed. “Come back to the clinic, Annie. It’s where you belong. I’m not going to bother you anymore.”

“Hollis,” Annie said, rising quickly. “Don’t—”

What was she going to say. Don’t go? She’d told Hollis to go and she was still afraid. But the answers didn’t really matter. Hollis was already gone.