Beyond the Breakwater by Radclyffe

Part Two

Chapter Eleven

It was well after midnight when Reese pulled into the driveway beside her home. The house was dark, but Tory's Jeep was gone.

Damn it. Where is she?

Reese pulled over, extracted her cell phone from the glove compartment, and punched in the number to the Sheriff's department. One of her officers answered. "Lyons, it's Conlon.”

"Yo, Reese. What's up?"

"Is there any kind of medical emergency in town that you're aware of?” Her heart was thudding erratically, but nothing showed in her voice. Maybe she's sick. Maybe something happened, and she couldn't reach me. Jesus, maybe--

"There's a big two-car crash on Route 6 coming west from Pilgrim Heights. They called for the EMTs about forty minutes ago."

"Thanks, Jeff." Reese put the truck into gear and sped toward the main highway that ran the length of Cape Cod. Five minutes later, she parked on the narrow shoulder behind a Sheriff's cruiser, a fire truck, two EMS vans, and Tory's Jeep Cherokee.

Hurriedly, Reese grabbed her Maglite from the emergency kit in the rear of the Blazer and clipped her badge to her belt. Then she made her way around the road cones, stepped over the flares which crisscrossed the highway, and walked between the haphazardly parked cars and trucks toward the center of activity. There she got a clear view of a minivan resting against the guardrail, its front end a crumpled mass of metal and shattered glass.

"Is Dr. King here?" Reese asked of the first EMT she identified.

Without looking up, the technician said sharply, "She’s down with the second car, I think."

Reese looked around and didn't see another vehicle. Down? Down where?

Following the skid marks on the highway, Reese reconstructed the accident in her mind. One vehicle traveling east--doing sixty from the looks of it--crosses the median and slams the minivan head on. Poor bastards in that never had a chance. Guard rail stops the minivan, and the other vehicle veers off--fuck. Into the salt marsh.

Stomach churning, she found the section of guardrail that had been breached and shone her light down to the steep embankment. A trail of crushed reeds, pond grass, and scrub outlined the errant car's path. The vehicle itself lay upside down in the salt pond that ran alongside the highway. The front end was underwater up to the windshield and steam billowed from the cracked engine. Emergency lights had been erected, and a clot of people milled around, maneuvering stretchers and assorted emergency equipment. One of the firemen appeared to be a attaching a towline to the back of the vehicle. No sign of Tory. Maybe the EMT was wrong, and she wasn’t down there after all.

Sliding, nearly falling, she made her way down the damp, muddy bank. How in the hell did Tory get down here? I can’t even stand up.

"Smith!" Reese called when she finally saw someone she recognized. She approached her officer as quickly as the treacherous footing would allow. "Where's Tory?"

"Hey, Reese! You don't need to be here, boss. We've got it pretty much under control."

Reese clamped down on her anger, because she knew he had no idea the terror she was feeling. Very succinctly, she repeated, "Where is Dr. King?"

"Oh," he said hurriedly. "She's in the car."

“How long?” she snapped, her nerves raw.

“Huh? Oh--I dunno. Twenty minutes maybe?”

"Son of a bitch," she shot out to no one in particular as she pushed her way past him and through the firemen and EMTs crowding around the capsized vehicle.

That water has got to be freezing. Jesus, god, she needs to get out of there.

Ignoring the biting cold as she slogged through icy water up to her mid-calves, she bent down to peer through the shattered driver’s side window. "Dr. King? Problem?"

“Reese?” Tory could barely move in the compressed space of what had once been the big luxury car’s passenger area. She didn't know how long she'd been there, but it felt like forever. A body lay at her feet.

"What’s his condition?"

 "Unconscious and critical. I'm bagging him by hand, but there's a lot of resistance. He must have at least one lung down.” Her teeth were chattering, and it was difficult to talk. "I can't tell what his oxygenation status is. Too damn dark in here to read a pulse oximeter, even if I had one."

"Can one of the EMTs take your place?" Reese couldn't see her lover’s face clearly, but she could hear the strain in her voice. Just seeing her in there made Reese’s guts churn. "Tory?"

"He's too unstable. I can’t trust this tube not to come out, either," Tory replied distractedly. "Tell them they can winch whenever they’re ready."

"Not with you in there," Reese said sharply. "That’s a twenty percent incline up to the road. This car’s going to twist all over the place when they start pulling it up."

"No choice."

Reese turned and shouted, "Get the fire captain down here."

A minute later, a tall, thin man tramped through the marsh towards Reese. "Sheriff Conlon. I didn't see you before."

"Peterson. Just got here," Reese said brusquely. "What about the structural integrity of the car? Dr. King says she needs to stay inside while you haul this thing out of here."

"It'll be one helluva bumpy ride, but they made those old Caddies to stand up to almost anything." He shrugged. "She’ll get knocked around some. Probably get a few bruises, but the frame will hold."

"Give me a minute. Do not move this vehicle until I give the word."

He hesitated for a moment, but there must have been something in the tone of her voice that convinced him, because he replied, "Okay, but make it fast. We need to get this scene cleared up."

Reese bent over to look inside again. "Tory," she said in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. "You can't stay in there during the extrication. It's going to be rough. Too rough...especially for you now."

"I'll brace myself. I'll be okay." Tory took a long shuddering breath, and then admitted what she hadn't wanted Reese to know. "There's a lot of water in here, and I'm getting really cold. So is he. Get us out of here, Sheriff."

"Two minutes," Reese yelled back over her shoulder as she grabbed the top edge of the vehicle, which was actually part of the undercarriage in its now upside down position, and levered her legs through the broken-out  window.

Chapter Twelve

"Reese, what in God's name are you doing?" Tory cried.

"I'm going to give you a cushion, Doctor," Reese muttered as she twisted her larger frame back and forth until she had one leg on either side of Tory's body.

Now that she was inside, Reese could make out the driver's legs underneath the steering column and his head wedged under the dashboard on the passenger side. Tory was holding the tracheostomy tube in place with one hand and squeezing a portable oxygen bag with the other.

"There isn't enough room," Tory protested.

"That's the point," Reese grunted as she wedged herself into the corner formed by the floor of the car above them and the side wall. Tory was now effectively insulated from the frame by Reese's body.

"Be careful, Reese, there are metal shards sticking out everywhere."

A powerful engine roared somewhere behind them, and the car shuddered.

"Brace your legs on something and push back into me,” Reese instructed as she wrapped her arms tightly around Tory's waist. The car tilted, and they were thrown precipitously forward. Reese shot her right arm out straight to stop their fall, ignoring a sharp stab of pain as something jagged tore through her jacket just below her elbow. With her left arm, she encircled Tory's waist and held her firmly against her own chest as the car rocked violently from side to side. "Hold on to me!"

"I can't," Tory shouted. "I have to secure this trach tube."

The car continued to bounce up and down as it was winched up the side of the embankment. Reese absorbed most of the shock on her shoulders and back as she curled protectively around Tory's body. What seemed an interminable time later, but what was in reality only a minute or two, the car leveled out and the earsplitting rattles and bone jolting vibrations stopped.

"Are you all right?" Reese asked anxiously.

"Yes." Tory's voice was muffled due to their awkward jackknifed position.

Reese rested her cheek against the back of Tory's head and closed her eyes for a second. "Are you sure?"

"I'm all right, honey," Tory said. "Just help me move him."

By that time, firemen and EMTs were working to separate enough of the frame to ease out the victim. Reese shifted again until she could reach down as far as the driver's body.

"I can hold that, Tor. You need to get out of here and get warm. You're shaking all over. I can feel it."

"I'll be fi--"

"Tory, go!"

"Be sure and advise me if there's any change in his condition, Sheriff," Tory said quietly as she eased her cramped, stiff body toward the broken-out window.

"Understood, Doctor," Reese said without looking at her. Then she shouted, "Smith!"

"Right here, Reese," he called from just outside the vehicle.

"Take Dr. King to the EMS truck and have someone look at her. Get her warmed up. Now."

"Roger that, boss."

Ten minutes later, Reese found Tory in the back of an EMS van, sitting on the edge of the open rear compartment. She was wrapped in a thermal heating unit and held a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"How are you doing?" Reese asked quietly, stopping a foot from her.

"Probably better than you. You're soaking wet, Reese. You should go ho—" Tory's eyes narrowed as she examined the large wet patches on her lover's clothes. The ones on her right arm and leg actually seemed to be getting larger as they talked. Her heart gave a sudden painful thud. "Oh my God, you're  bleeding!"

"Yeah, I guess so, "Reese said wearily, fighting a wave of dizziness. In the last several minutes, she'd become aware of a variety of aches and pains. Her right forearm throbbed and burned, and she was having a little trouble putting her full weight on her right leg. It felt like it was about to give out. "I think I might have gotten snagged in a couple of places on a piece of the car when they were pulling us out."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Tory set the cup aside and threw off the blanket, then got hastily to her feet. "I need to look at you. Climb up into the van where there's some light."

"Okay," Reese muttered, struggling with a fresh wave of dizziness. "But let's go to the clinic. I don't want to do this out here."

The fact that Reese allowed Tory to open the door and help her inside only made Tory worry more. Fortunately, at that time of night there was no traffic, and in less than five minutes, Tory pulled into the parking lot in front of the clinic. When Reese pushed open the door to get out, Tory simply said, "Don't even try it. Wait for me."

"How are you doing?" Tory asked quietly as they maneuvered through the deserted clinic toward the examining rooms in the rear.

"Fine," Reese grunted through gritted teeth. For some reason, her arm and leg seemed to be burning worse now.

The pain in Reese's face made Tory's insides twist, but she kept her discomfort to herself. When they reached the largest examining room which doubled as a procedure room, Tory reached inside and turned on the wall switch. "Lean against the table until I can help you get your clothes off."

Hurriedly, Tory watched her hands at the small sank in one corner, then turned and moved to where Reese rested with one hip up on the examining counter. Willing her hands not to shake, Tory began to unbutton Reese's shirt. "Where're you hurt, honey?"

"Mostly my right arm and leg. The rest of it's just bumps and bruises, I think." Reese was having more and more difficulty moving the injured extremities, and it was difficult to get her shirt off. As Tory eased the garment down over the injured right arm, Reese drew in her breath sharply at the swift streak of pain that shot up toward her shoulder.

"Sorry," Tory murmured, finally getting the garment off. She bit back a cry of alarm when she saw the jagged tear in Reese's forearm that was deep enough to expose the muscular compartment. Blood oozed steadily for the dark ragged tear, but there was no indication of bright red arterial bleeding.

"Christ, that’s sensitive."

"It's the salt from the marsh water,” Tory said flatly. “That's what stinging. Let's get these trousers off so I can see your leg."

Again, Tory had to struggle to contain her exclamation of concern when she saw the jagged star-shaped puncture wound on the outside of her lover's right thigh. It looked like it might have been made by the sheared off top of the gearshift. Looking at it, she realized that it probably happened when they had pitched forward during the car’s bumpy ascent up the steep roadbed.

"I've got to get you up on the table so I can clean these out. The one on your arm is going to need stitches." As she spoke, Tory worked at separating herself emotionally from the fact that she was looking at her lover's torn and bruised body so that she could accomplish what needed to be done.

"What's wrong, Tor?" Reese asked as she watched Tory examining her.

"I hate to see you hurt," Tory confessed quietly.

"It's not too bad. Don't worry, love."

"You don't get it, do you, Sheriff?” Tory smiled up at her with a quick shake of her head. “I worry about you because I love you. It comes with the territory."

"I know. Try to remember that when I'm being overly protective, okay?" Reese took a deep breath. “Like tonight. I was scared out of my mind when I saw you in that car like that.”

"Okay," Tory said softly. Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to Reese's forehead for an instant of much needed contact. When she straightened her expression was soft with love but her eyes were firm with purpose. "Now don't talk to me any more. Just try doing what I tell you to do. Do you think you can manage that for a few minutes?"

"That's a tall order, Doctor."

"Stretch yourself, Sheriff. I'm sure you can manage."

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Tory was finished, they were both awash with sweat.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know that hurt." Tory stripped off her gloves and brushed her hand over Reese's cheek. Almost to herself, she murmured, "You're so pale."

"It's okay." Reese tried to smile, but her stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. "It had to be done. I'm glad it was you."

"I'd rather it not be anyone at all sewing you up." After filling a paper cup with water at the sink, Tory returned to Reese and held out several colored tablets in her hand, along with the cup. "Take these."

"What are they?" Reese asked suspiciously.

"Antibiotics and a pain pill. Believe me, you're going to need it when the lidocaine wears off."

With Tory's help, Reese climbed down from the table, and the two of them walked slowly from the clinic to Tory's Jeep. Ten minutes later, they reversed the process and, together, made their way inside and up to their bedroom.

"Can you get undressed by yourself?" Tory asked. "I really need to take a shower."

"I do, too."

"I want you to keep the wound dry tonight. You can shower in the morning."

Reese nodded and sat tiredly on the edge of the bed. "Okay. You go ahead. I can manage."

Tory studied her intently for a few seconds. She'd seen Reese injured before, but she'd never seen her appear quite so drained. Reluctantly, she said, "I'll only be a few minutes."

"I'm all right, love.” Reese smiled faintly. “Don’t worry.”

As soon as she could mange, Tory returned to the bedroom, naked except for an oversized T-shirt. The room lights were still on, and Reese was lying on her back on the bed, still fully clothed. Fast asleep.

*****

The insistent buzzing of the alarm finally penetrated Tory's consciousness. She rolled over and peered at the clock, then sat up, startled. "Reese. Honey, it's time to get up."

When she got no response, she shook her lover’s shoulder gently. “Reese?”

"Tory," Reese mumbled weakly, "I can’t.” She barely managed to get the words out before she rolled to the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. "Sor…”

"Reese!" In a flash, Tory bolted upright and leaned over to stare at her lover. What she saw made her heart nearly stop. Reese's eyes were unfocused, her color gray, and her skin slick with sweat. Worse, her breathing was shallow and rapid. My god, she looks septic.

"I need to check your wounds," Tory said as calmly as she could manage while unwrapping the gauze on Reese's forearm. Before she had even exposed the entire laceration, she could discern the redness and swelling extending from the wound itself nearly four inches up Reese's arm. Cellulitis. To be this bad, this soon, it's got to be a virulent organism.

Without hesitation, Tory snatched up the bedside phone and punched 911. In a second, a male voice answered, and she snapped, "This is Doctor King. I need an ambulance immediately."

She gave them the address and slammed down the phone, then jumped from the bed and ran to get dressed. In a minute, she was back at Reese's side with a cool towel which she used to wipe her lover's face. "Reese. Honey, can you hear me?"

Reese's lids flickered open, and she looked up in confusion. "Tor? What…what's wrong?"

"You've got an infection, sweetheart. I need to take you to the emergency room so we can evaluate you. It's going to be okay." Tory glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. Where are they?

Then, in the distance, she heard the siren and breathed a sigh of relief. Loath to leave Reese, she rushed downstairs, opened the front door wide, and signaled with her arm for the EMTs to come inside. "We're upstairs."

Thankfully, Reese appeared slightly more coherent when the emergency technicians arrived. Enough to protest, "I don't need…an ambulance."

"Probably not," Tory said gently as she held Reese’s uninjured hand. "But it will be easier on me if I don't have to drive to the hospital."

"Okay," Reese replied softly. However, when she sat up, she gasped sharply, pressed her hand to her midsection, and promptly vomited again.

"Let's get her on the stretcher," Tory said sharply. "She needs IV hydration and a loading dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics. Come on. Let's move it!"

With practiced proficiency, the two male EMTs shifted Reese to the gurney, strapped her on, and pushed her from the room. Tory stayed as close to the side of the moving stretcher as she could. Then she climbed into the back of the van and settled near Reese's head as one of the techs, a burly redhead, rapidly started an intravenous line in her left arm.

"What do you want to give her, Doc?" As he spoke, he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Reese's bicep and took a rapid reading. "Ninety over forty. Heart rate’s one-fifty. She’s pretty dehydrated."

"Run the saline wide open. Then we'll need a gram of Ancef and a hundred milligrams of gentamycin. We need to cover all our bases, because I don't know what this is."

As Tory spoke, the tech sorted through the drug box and began administering the antibiotics.

"I need to culture this wound right now," Tory said as the ambulance screamed east on Route six toward the nearest hospital, which was in Hyannis. "Get me a prep tray and some instruments."

The redhead's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he voiced no objection. He handed her sterile gloves and prepared to assist her. Tory removed the dressings on Reese’s arm once again, carefully prepped the area with antiseptic solution, and snipped out several of the sutures she had placed the night before. When she gently squeezed the area, Reese moaned, thrashed weakly on the stretcher, and tried to pull away. Tory did not look at her face.

"I don't see any pus in there, do you?" The EMT asked as he peered over her shoulder.

"No. It's too soon for an abscess. This is a soft tissue infection."

"Strep?" His concern was evident in his tone. “Jesus, do you think it’s necrotizing faciitis?”

"I don't know," Tory said distractedly as she pushed a sterile culture swab into the depths of the wound. Reese stiffened at the swift jolt of pain, and Tory's stomach clenched. "I'm sorry, baby."

"S’okay," Reese mumbled before she faded away again.

"I don't have my cell phone with me. Can you connect me to the hospital?" Tory questioned.

"Sure." He tapped on the sliding glass panel between the front cab and the treatment section in the rear. "Ken, pass me the radio."

He handed it to Tory and pointed to the button on the side. "Push to talk, let go to receive. I'll get someone in triage for you."

After he gave the person in the emergency room their ETA, he handed the transmitter to Tory. She did as directed and spoke firmly, with no hint in her voice of the terror she felt. "This is Doctor Victoria King. I have a septic patient coming in. I need an infectious disease consultant and a surgeon standing by."

An eternity later, they careened into the ambulance bay of the regional hospital. Within seconds they were inside and a swarm of nurses and ER doctors descended upon them. By the time Tory was done giving a synopsis of the injury and presenting symptoms, Reese was hooked up to monitors and additional IV lines. Throughout it all, Tory never left her side.

“I’m Jill Baker,” a short, trim African-American woman in a conservative blazer and slacks said as she approached the bed. “Infectious disease. What have we got?”

“Victoria King.” Tory repeated the details of the previous night and morning.

“Foreign body punctures while in a salt marsh. Jesus. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned dog bites.” The infectious disease specialist surveyed the monitors and frowned. As she reached for Reese’s injured arm, she asked, “No hypotensive episodes? Nothing to indicate shock?”

“No.” Tory’s throat was dry, and she suddenly felt light-headed. “I’m sorry. I need to sit for a second.”

“Here,” a deep alto voice said from behind her as a firm hand took her arm. “There's a seat right behind you.”

“Thanks,” Tory mumbled, fighting a wave of nausea as she settled onto a stool. She was struggling so hard not to pass out she barely heard the swift intake of breath fromthe woman beside her.

“Tory?”

When she could look up without her vision dimming, Tory found herself looking into the face of a stranger who had once been her whole world. She was Tory’s age, still fit, and still roguishly attractive. She’d been a lady-killer when they’d been lovers. And undoubtedly she still was. “Hello, K.T.”

“Are you all right?” the dark-eyed, dark-haired woman asked, her expression one of concern and surprise.

“I’m fine,” Tory said, chancing an upright position. “What are you doing here?”

“Moonlighting. I’m the surgeon on call. What’s going on?”

“I think it’s Vibrio,” Jill Baker said as she walked over to them. “She’s got a rip-roaring cellulitis that’s climbing up her arm, GI symptoms, and mental confusion. It all fits with an acute marine bacteria infection.”

“Does she need to be debrided in the OR?” K.T. O’Bannon asked curtly.

“Probably.” Baker lowered her voice. “If it’s the vulnificus variety, it can be fatal if you don’t cut out the involved tissue right away.”

Tory’s head pounded, not with dizziness, but with mind-numbing fear. She walked away from them and went to Reese’s side. “Hiya, Sheriff,” she said when she saw that Reese’s eyes were open, and thankfully, clearer again.

“Hey,” Reese said hoarsely, holding up the hand with the IV taped to it. “How you doin’?”

“I’m okay,” Tory said, her throat tight with tears she would not shed.

“What’s going on? I don’t remember much of how we got here.”

“You’ve got a bad infection in your arm. How do you feel?”

“Head hurts." Reese frowned.  "My insides feel like I swallowed nails. Can’t say as I feel much in my arm.” She saw Tory pale. “Tor? You better tell me now, because I’m getting a little foggy again.”

“You may need surgery, honey. To remove the infected tissue.”

“Surgery?” Reese tried to sit up, but failed.

The sight of her normally strong, commanding lover so weak and ill scared Tory to death. Her eyes flooded with tears, and she looked away.

“Tory,” Reese said urgently, summoning all of her strength. “This is my weapon arm. You can’t let them cut pieces out of it.”

“You’re more important than any job.” Tory’s voice was rough, her eyes dark pools of anguish.

“Don’t cr…oh, fuck…I’m gonna throw…”

Tory grabbed a basin just in time as Reese vomited again. She slipped her arm beneath Reese’s shoulder and held her as close as the hospital bed would allow.

“Please,” Reese muttered when she could catch her breath. “Don’t let them operate.” Then she leaned back, closed her eyes, and slipped into darkness.

Chapter Fourteen

Bri looked at the clock beside her bed for the fourth time in less than ten minutes. It’s too early to call. Carre never gets up this early.

Naked, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It was hard getting used to waking up without Carre beside her. Hell, it was hard doing everything without her. It had been weird riding the Harley with a woman pressed against her, arms around her waist, a cheek resting lightly against her shoulder, who hadn’t been Carre. She'd dropped Allie off at her apartment after they left the tavern around 1:00 a.m. Allie had said she could walk home or grab a ride with someone else, but Bri had insisted on taking her.

It was funny, but watching Allie walk away had left her with an empty feeling. And that didn't make any sense, because she didn't even know her. When she got home, even though it was late, she called Carre. And no one had answered.

You wanted to do this. You knew it would be hard. There's no point in complaining now. Just suck it up, Parker.

Signing, she rolled onto her side, buried her face in her pillow, and tried to sleep. Fuck.

She got up, pulled on sweats and a T-shirt, and padded barefoot out into the living from where the only phone in the apartment was located. She slumped onto the end of the lumpy couch and reached for the phone. After seven rings, she was about to hang up when she heard Carre’s sleepy voice.

"Hello?"

"Babe? Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Bri? Hi, yeah. That's okay." Caroline laughed. "I'm awake now. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Bri said quietly. "I just…wanted to talk to you. I tried calling last night…"

"Oh." There was a moment of silence, then Caroline said softly, "I was out with some of the kids from school. I…I got the scholarship."

Bri closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. "That's great, babe. I'm really proud of you."

"I tried to call you, but I guess I missed you."

"Yeah. I was with Reese." Bri straightened her shoulders. "So listen, we should do something to celebrate. How about I'd come down next weekend, and we’ll go out."

"That would be great. I miss you. "

"Me, too." Bri heard a muffled voice in the background. "Is somebody there?"

"Oh. That's James. It was really late when the party broke up last night, and he walked me home."

"And stayed over?"

"Uh-huh."

Bri had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. You could spit from one side of that apartment to the other. Everything was turned upside down, and all she could feel was the dark ache of loss. The words were out before she even had time to think. "Where did he sleep?"

"What? Bri!”

"Well, Jesus, Carre—what am I supposed to think?”

"You’re supposed to think I love you. And in case you’ve forgotten, I like girls.” Caroline’s voice rose, tight with anger. “It's pretty clear you've forgotten that the only girl I ever wanted was you. No wonder it was so easy for you to leave."

"Easy?" Bri whispered, so quietly her voice did not carry over the line.

"I'm going to go now, Bri, because I don't want to fight. I'll talk to you later."

Bri closed her eyes as a soft click broke the connection.

Stupid. Jesus, what's wrong with you.

She got up and headed for the shower, determined to ride back to New York City as soon as her weapons class was over and apologize. As she stood under the hot spray, trying to purge the misery from her mind and heart, a pounding on the bathroom door penetrated her awareness. She stuck her head outside the shower curtain. "What?"

The door opened a crack and a male voice called, "Parker, your old man's on the phone."

"Tell them I'll call him back," Bri yelled, surprised.

"He says it's an emergency."

Heart pounding, Bri stepped from the shower and grabbed for a towel.

*****

Tory glanced at the clock on the opposite side of the brightly lit emergency room. She couldn't believe it was only ten o'clock in the morning. She felt like the day had been endless. She jumped, startled by the voice beside her.

"Tory, I need someone to sign an operative consent," K.T. said quietly. "I don't think she's competent. Do you know how we can reach her next of kin?"

"I have medical power of attorney," Tory said quietly. She leaned against the aluminum guardrail that stood between her and Reese like the bars of a jail cell, her left hand curled tightly over the top rung, her right softly stroking Reese's forehead. She didn't look at the surgeon standing next her.

"You do?"

"Yes. She's my lover."

There was a moment’s silence, then K.T. said flatly, "Fine. I'll get the papers."

"No. Not yet." Tory turned and met K.T.'s eyes. "Her vital signs are stable. She just got the loading doses of chloramphenicol an hour ago. I want to wait until Jill has had a chance to look at the gram stain.”

“Why?” the surgeon asked impatiently.

“Because this might be a limited infection, and another dose of antibiotics might bring it under control without surgery."

"And if we wait, and it isn't a mild form of the organism, she could lose her arm. She could die."

"She's a sheriff and a lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps. She needs the use of that arm to be who she is," Tory said as a wave of agony passed through her. "I have to be sure."

"I'll be as conservative with the resection as I can," K.T. insisted.

"Can you promise me that you won't resect the extensor muscles in her forearm?" Tory said sharply. "Because if you do, she'll never hold a gun again."

"You know I can't promise that. It depends on what it looks like."

"Yes, and you can't always tell if the tissue is healthy or not just by looking at it. And surgical teaching says when in doubt, cut it out. I lived with you through your surgical residency, remember?"

"God damn it, you're letting your emotions affect your judgment." K.T. took Tory's elbow and moved her several feet away from Reese's bedside. "You're not thinking like a doctor. You shouldn't be making this decision."

"I am a doctor," Tory said sharply. "And I'm her lover. I'll let you know after I've talked to Jill."

"Jesus," K.T. cursed. "You're just as stubborn as ever."

"And you're—"

"Tory!" Bri called as she hurried across the room.

Tory looked over at the handsome youth in leather motorcycle pants, black jacket, and white tee shirt. An inexplicable wave of relief washed through her. Maybe it was simply the fact that Bri had always reminded her of Reese in her single-mindedness and her uncommon sense of valor. She held out her hand, which Bri took. To her surprise, Bri leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. Oh, Bri. You’ve grown up, haven’t you?

"Thanks for coming, Bri."

"I left as soon as my dad called me. He said he’d be here soon."

"This is Doctor O’Bannon, one of Reese's doctor's."

Bri nodded briefly in the direction of the woman by Tory’s side. "How is she?"

"She's in and out. She's sleeping right now." Tory squeezed her hand. "I called Jean and Kate, but they must be away because I only got their answering machine."

"I'll call my dad in a few minutes. He can probably track them down." Bri glanced at the stretcher. The sight of Reese in the hospital bed sent a jolt of terror straight through her. Carefully, she kept her expression blank. "Can I…is it okay if I…"

"Go talk to her for a minute," Tory said gently. "She won't answer, but she'll hear your voice. I need to hunt down one of the other doctors."

Bri studied Tory's drawn face, her eyes darkening with concern. "Have you had anything to eat this morning?"

"What?" Tory asked in confusion.

"You haven't, have you?" Bri put her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and hunched her shoulders slightly. "Look, I'll bring you something from the cafeteria. Toast or something. Is coffee okay?"

The sight of Bri, so very much like Reese, searching desperately for a way to take care of her brought a sudden flood of tears to Tory's eyes. With a shaking hand, she brushed away the few that escaped before she could contain them. She cleared her throat and smiled. "I guess I should skip the coffee. But some juice and toast would be great. Thanks, sweetie."

Bri blushed and ducked her head. "I'll be right back."

K.T. watched Bri walk away. "She’s hot."

"She's a child," Tory said acerbically.

"I don't think so." She gave Tory a speculative glance. "Still living in Provincetown?"

"Yes. Bri's father is the sheriff there and Reese's boss."

"Why did the kid ask if coffee was okay? Is something…wrong? Are you ill?"

"No." Tory hesitated. "I'm pregnant."

K.T.'s gasp of surprise was audible. "Jesus Christ, Tory. Stop fooling around then. Let me operate and make sure your partner’s around to see the baby."

Tory's face lost the last remnants of color, but she refused to give in to the sudden wave of dizziness. "You never could see the shades of gray, could you? I'm going to find Jill Baker and see what she thinks. I'll give you my decision after that."

Than she walked to the bed, leaned over, kissed Reese on the lips, and strode away without looking back at the astonished surgeon.

Chapter Fifteen

Tory found Jill Baker in the pathology laboratory, bent over a microscope, a frown of intense concentration wrinkling her smooth forehead.

"What have you found?"

Without looking up, the infectious disease specialist answered, "It's a gram negative, just like we expected. At least we know the antibiotics are correct."

"Is there any way to tell if it's the virulent form or the self-limited variety?" Tory tried to keep her voice even and hoped that her rising panic wasn't evident. As each second passed, and the clock ticked down on the chance of keeping Reese out of the operating room, her anxiety escalated.

"No, I'm sorry. Not from this. We need to wait for the culture and sensitivity results to come back." Her eyes were sympathetic, but her tone held the matter-of-fact delivery of every physician who knew that only the truth would suffice.

"How long?" Tory asked, although in her heart, she knew.

"Twelve hours at best, more likely twenty-four." Baker shrugged. "Bacteria grow at their own pace."

"If it's Vibrio vulnificus, she doesn't have twelve hours, does she?" Tory put one hand on the counter, determined not to let anyone see her falter.

"If that's what it is, she doesn't even have six." Baker's gaze slid from Tory's tormented green eyes to the scrolled gold band encircling her left ring finger, the exact match to the one on the sheriff's hand. "What would you say if you didn't know anything about her except the medical facts?"

Tory looked away, attempting the impossible task of keeping Reese's face from her mind. But she was a doctor, and after a moment, she succeeded in assessing, categorizing, calculating the timetable, and reviewing the sequence of symptoms. She took a deep breath. "I'd say that everything points to the rapid onset of cellulitis which was most likely produced by an ocean-borne pathogen. In all likelihood, there was systemic spread almost immediately, which accounts for her toxic presentation and gastrointestinal symptoms. I can precisely pinpoint the time of infection, and considering that it's been almost twelve hours, the progression is not escalating particularly rapidly."

"Very good," Baker said with a small grin. "And your conclusion?"

"It's more likely to be the nonfulminant variety, because if it were anything else, by now her condition should have deteriorated to the point of shock and system failure." For just a second, her voice shook. "There's no evidence of disseminated intravascular coagulation on her last blood panel, and the local spread of the infection seems to have stabilized."

"Want a job? We could use another ID attending around here."

"No thanks," Tory said with a weak laugh. "What if we wait on the surgery, and I'm wrong?"

"Being cautious is the sign of a good physician. Second-guessing yourself, though, is dangerous." Jill Baker's expression was solemn. "Let's try a little old-fashioned medicine. Let's look at the wound. If the cellulitis hasn't progressed, and she still looks stable, I say we sit on it for another couple of hours."

"O’Bannon’s going to go crazy."

Joe lifted one elegant shoulder. "Let her. Her ego can take it."

Tory took a deep breath. "Okay."

Chapter Sixteen

K.T. was gone when Tory and Jill returned, having been called away by an emergency in the trauma unit. Bri was sitting by Reese’s bedside, perched on a tall stool, a tray bearing English muffins and cardboard cartons of juice balanced on her knee.

“Look who’s here,” Bri said happily as Tory approached, inclining her head toward the bed.

Tory leaned over the stretcher and gazed into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured, her heart aching at the shadows of pain that lingered in Reese’s face.

“Hi, love. Sorry I keep…fading.” Reese turned her head slightly. “Bri says she has breakfast.”

“Yes,” Tory said with a smile. “But not for you just yet. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Reese grimaced. “I’m just happy not to be heaving. You should eat.”

Tory petted her hair, stroked her face, unable to bear not to be touching her. “In a minute.” She glanced to the side as Jill joined her at the bedside. “Honey, this is Jill Baker. She’s an infectious disease specialist. She needs to look at your arm.”

“Okay,” Reese said weakly. “Just looking, right, Doc?”

“No sharp instruments, Sheriff,” Jill replied with a smile.

Reese kept her eyes on Tory’s face as the other doctor unwrapped her arm. She would be able to read the answer in her lover’s eyes. When Jill gently probed with a gloved hand, Reese winced and immediately saw Tory’s eyes darken. “I’m okay, Tor. It doesn’t hurt too much.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Tory’s fingers trembled in Reese’s hair. “What do you think, Jill?”

“It’s no worse.”

Tory closed her eyes. When she opened them, Reese’s questioning gaze was fixed on hers. “That’s good, honey.”

“No surgery then?”

“Maybe I should decide that,” K.T. announced dryly as she moved in next to Jill and reached for Reese’s arm. Her dark eyes steady on Reese’s blue ones, she said, “I’m Dr. O’Bannon. I’m a surgeon.”

“Doctor,” Reese said with a hint of her old authority in her voice. "I'm hoping I won't need your services."

K.T. didn't respond as she lifted and turned Reese's arm, then probed upward towards her shoulder. "Hurt up here?"

"No.”

“Make a fist.”

Reese tried, but couldn’t quite close her fingers.

“That bother you anywhere?” K.T. questioned.

“Just feels stiff.” Reese frowned. “Mostly I just feel really beat. I can't seem to stay awake."

"That's the effect of the dehydration and the bacterial toxins," K.T. murmured without taking her eyes from the wound. After a moment, she gently placed Reese's arm back on the bed. Then she grasped the guardrail in both hands and leaned over slightly so that her face was all that Reese could see. "I don't see very much change in the physical appearance of your arm in the last four hours. That may be a good thing, or it might not. The safest thing would be to take you to the operating room, remove the sutures, irrigate the wound, and excise any dead tissue."

"How would that affect the function of my arm?" Reese said, trying hard to concentrate. The headache was slowly returning, and with it, an overwhelming desire to close her eyes.

"Maybe not at all."

"Maybe?"

The surgeon blew out a slightly exasperated breath. "I can't tell you for sure until I see what the tissue looks like."

"Worst-case…scenario?"

"Sensory loss, primarily in the upper aspect of your hand, weakness of wrist extension, decreased grip strength."

Reese's eyes flicked to Tory. "Can we wait?"

"Honey--"

"Sheriff Conlon," K.T. interrupted. "If we go now, we minimize the risk--"

"K.T., let me talk to her alone for a minute," Tory said quietly.

Reese stiffened slightly and shifted her gaze back to the surgeon. The tone of familiarity in Tory’s voice was too much to be coincidence. So you're the idiot who let her go.

"I have a patient to check on in the trauma unit," K.T. said stiffly. "I'll be back shortly."

"Reese," Tory said softly, "I know how important it is for you to have the full use of your arm. But we can’t take any chances. I…I can't risk losing you."

"I would never willingly do something that might take me away from you.” Reese lifted her left hand and when Tory grasped it, she entwined her fingers with her lover's. “But if there's a possibility that we can ride this out without the surgery, I want to try."

"Jill feels we can wait a couple more hours," Tory said, knowing that she was making perhaps the most important decision of her life. Searching her heart and mind, she settled herself and answered, "I agree with her."

"Okay then," Reese said with a sigh, closing her eyes. "If you don't mind… I think I'll sleep for a bit."

Tory laid Reese's hand down on the bed and brushed her fingers over Reese's hair, then kissed her. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. You just rest."

*****

"You don't have to stay, Bri," Tory said with a weary sigh. Reese had been transferred upstairs from the emergency room  to the intermediate intensive care unit for observation. The isolation room was equipped with the standard hospital bed, freestanding bedside table, and several chairs. In addition, a small sofa had been provided in the event that family members wanted to stay for extended periods of time. It was easier for visitors to remain in the patient’s room rather than the regular waiting room, thereby avoiding the cumbersome process of scrubbing and donning cover gowns every time they reentered the room.

"I want to wait," Bri said as she settled on the sofa next to Tory. "If that's okay?"

Tory leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. "Sure."

It was noon. Twelve hours said she had gotten the call from the EMTs about a multi-vehicular accident with victims trapped in the wreckage. It was a call like so many late night calls she had gotten in the seven years she'd been Provincetown's year-round doctor. She and Reese had responded to any number of the same calls over the time they’d been a couple and were used to working together. It had all seemed so routine the night before, but then that's how so many life-altering events began--as something so ordinary. And now, she was waiting while her lover's future, and possibly her life, hung in the balance.

“Just a few weeks ago we found out about the baby.” Tory’s voice broke on the words. “Now…”

"Tory," Bri whispered softly as she edged closer on the sofa, alarmed by the tears leaking from beneath Tory's closed lids. Tentatively, she placed her hand on the weeping woman’s shoulder. "She's going to be okay."

Tory struggled with the rush of emotions, but she was so tired and so terrified and before she could stop herself, she’d turned into the warm body next to hers. Bri’s arms came around her and Tory held on, pressing her face to the strong shoulder as she wrapped one arm around Bri’s waist. She felt a soft cheek against her hair and the whisper of breath against her ear as she let the tears come.

“She’ll be fine,” Bri murmured, pulling her close.

*****

When Nelson Parker arrived at the hospital and asked for the whereabouts of his deputy sheriff, he was directed to a room in the intermediate care unit on the second floor. The door was closed when he arrived, and looking up and down the hall, he saw no one around. Carefully, he pushed the door open and peeked in.

The room was dim, and at first all he could make out was the single hospital bed in the center of the room holding a sheet-covered form. His gaze drifted to the small sofa tucked into one corner, and his eyes widened. His daughter sat with a woman cradled in her arms, her chin resting on the top of the tousled auburn hair. He and Bri stared at one another for an instant, and then he slowly closed the door.

Nelson leaned with his back against the wall and replayed the image in his mind. He kept being reminded every few months how little he understood of his daughter. Bri was his child; he remembered a million images of her growing up, the kind of snapshot moments he supposed most men had of their children. But he didn’t know who she had become. In fact, he didn’t have any point of reference to even imagine who she was. Victoria King was one of the strongest women he’d ever met, and his daughter was in there holding her, sheltering her, it looked like. He felt inexplicably proud.

The door opened softly, and Bri stepped out. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, Bri,” he said gruffly, his throat a little scratchy. “How’s Reese?”

 “She’s been asleep since they brought her up here, maybe two hours ago. The doctors are supposed to look at her again soon.”

“She…uh…she pretty sick?”

Bri swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” he growled. “How’s Tory taking it?”

“She’s worn out. She’s been asleep, too.”

“You okay?”

I’m fucking scared out of my mind. Bri looked away. “Yeah.”

Nelson squeezed her shoulder with one huge hand, then slid his arm around her and pulled her close. He hugged her for a second, amazed as always by her solid strength. “Reese is tough.”

“Yeah,” Bri said. She’d never leave Tory. But people do, don’t they? We lost Mom.

Bri stepped away. “I oughta get Tory some lunch. She forgets, and you know--with her being--you know. Reese would be pissed if we let Tory get sick.”

“You go back in,” Nelson said quickly, jumping at the chance to do something, anything, remotely useful. He did not want to walk in there and see Reese on the edge. He didn’t think he could take it. “I’ll get her a sandwich. That would be good, right?”

“Yeah. And juice. Juice seems to be okay.”

“Great. Got it,” the Sheriff said as he hurried away.

Bri glanced at the clock down the hall at the nurse’s station. Almost three p.m. She thought about calling Carre. Carre would tell her that Reese would be fine, and make her believe it. Carre’d always been able to do that--make her see the light in the dark, no matter how bad it seemed. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall. I wish you were here. I wish you knew how much I need you.

After a minute, she opened her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and slipped back into the room.

*****
 

Reese opened her eyes, blinked, and focused on the faces leaning over her. The surgeon was closest to her, her dark eyes opaque, her austerely handsome features expressionless. Tory stood across from her. Focusing on those tender green eyes, Reese smiled. "Is this the only show in town?"

A flicker of joy flared in Tory's eyes, the first sign of happiness in hours. The corner of her mouth lifted in a soft smile. "Apparently, Sheriff, you’re it."

"It’s good to see you," Reese whispered, lifting her free hand, which Tory immediately grasped. Then, Reese turned toward K.T. O'Bannon. "How do things look, Doctor?"

"Stable," K.T. said, her gaze on Reese’s arm. Then she seemed to reconsider. "Actually, a bit better than that. I think the cellulitis has receded and the swelling is a little less."

"I guess that means you and I won't be getting together then."

K.T.'s dark eyes rose to meet the deep blue ones. She smiled faintly. "I guess not." The she glanced across Reese's body to Tory and said quietly, "Can we speak outside?"

Tory looked as if she were about to object, but Reese squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Go ahead, love."

After a second’s hesitation, Tory nodded. "I'll be right back." 

Once outside, Tory studied K.T., who leaned with one shoulder against the wall, waiting for her. The surgeon wore only hospital scrubs with no lab coat. Her beeper was clipped to the right hip and several pens protruded from her breast pocket. She was still lean and faintly tanned. She looked much the way Tory remembered her, with only a few added lines around her eyes to mark the passage of time. She was still heart-stoppingly beautiful, with that same dangerous glint in her eyes, as if she knew it. Looking at her, Tory’s memories of their years together were clouded by the mists of half truths and lost dreams. The emotions that had once been so achingly close to the surface whenever she thought of K.T.’s smile, her touch, were gone. Uneasily, she asked, "What is it? Did you see something that worried you when you examined her?"

"No, nothing like that," K.T. clarified quickly. "I just wanted you to know that I'll be here for another twelve hours. If there's any change, call me. I'll come take another look."

"Thanks, K.T.” The relief almost made her dizzy. Maybe the nightmare really was over. “I appreciate you spending so much time with us. I know how busy it gets when you're the only one on call."

"That's okay." K.T. shrugged. Then, her voice pitched low, she added, "I'm glad things turned out this way. As much as I love to operate, I'm glad I didn't have to this time."

"So am I. I know you weren’t happy when I wanted to wait."

"The two of you would have been hard to take on."

Tory smiled. "Reese is not someone you want to challenge at any time, even when she's flat on her back."

"I haven't seen her at her best, and I believe you." Uncharacteristically, K.T. looked away for a heartbeat, and then brought her eyes back to Tory's. "I still miss you."

Tory's lips parted in surprise. They hadn't seen each other since separating nearly seven years before. The first few years after that had been agonizingly difficult. They'd been through medical school and residency together, and Tory had planned on a lifetime with her. When all that had changed, she'd lost faith in love and even worse, in herself. First she had regained her identity and sense of purpose by establishing her medical practice in Provincetown. She’d rebuilt her life while keeping her heart locked safely away. Then Reese had come along and made it impossible for her not to believe in love again. Reese had brought hope back into her heart, and because of Reese’s love, her life was filled with joy and promise.

"Take care of yourself, K.T.," Tory said quietly. "I need to get back to her."

As Tory turned away, the deep, sensuous voice she knew so well murmured, "If I called you, could I see you?"

Without looking back, Tory softly replied, "No."

Then she walked through the door and let it swing closed behind her.

*****

"Everything okay?" Reese asked as she watched her lover approach. She’d been fading in and out for what felt like days, but she remembered realizing who the surgeon had to be. Tory’s ex-lover. Do you still hurt, love?

Tory pulled a chair close to the bedside and lowered the rail that separated them. She placed both hands around Reese's below the intravenous line, lifted it, and pressed her lips to the top of Reese's hand. "Everything is wonderful.”

“O’Bannon’s your K.T., right?”

Tory stiffened slightly, then shook her head gently. “No, honey. Not anymore.”

“You’re all right?”

“I am now. You’re better.” Tory lifted Reese's fingers and brushed them against her cheek, then turned her face and kissed each one. “How do you feel?"

"Like I've been on maneuver for four days straight in a swamp somewhere without water. My head hurts, my insides are empty, and I don't think I could stand up if the room was on fire." Reese grinned weakly. "But compared to this morning, I feel like a million bucks."

"You're going to be fine."

"I can think a little bit clearer now, and I seem to have most of the feeling back in my right hand. I’m just so damn weak."

You’ll get over this. You have to, because I need you so much. Tory closed her eyes as a sudden rush of the emotions swamped her. Then she couldn't stop the tears, even though she wanted to. "Oh, god, Reese."

"Tory," Reese whispered. "It's okay, love."

"I was so scared," Tory murmured, her eyes still closed. "I don't know how I would manage without you. I can't even imagine..."

"I love you. I will not leave you.” Reese moved their joined hands until her fingers touched the tears. “Besides, we have a baby coming, and I intend to be there for every second of the fun."

Tory leaned closer and rested her head against Reese's shoulder. “Fun. Ha.” But her spirits lifted at the sound of Reese’s steady heartbeat beneath her cheek.

 “I can’t wait.” Reese wrapped her free arm protectively around Tory’s shoulders and held her as close as she could. "You should go home, love. You need to get some rest. Especially now."

"No."

"Tory, please. Everyone agrees I'm going to be okay, and I don't want anything to happen to you. Please."

"Later. I promise, I'll go home in a little while." She lifted her gaze, her green eyes still swimming with tears. "I just need to be with you a little longer. I need to feel safe again."

Okay," Reese said softly, her fingers stroking Tory's face. "Okay, love. Whatever you want. Always."

They both jumped as a knock sounded at the door. Then it slowly swung open and Bri peered around the corner. Her face lit up when she saw that Reese was awake. "Hey! You okay?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Come on in."

Suddenly shy, Bri came slowly forward until she stood on the side of the bed opposite Tory, her hands in the front pockets of her low-riding jeans. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too, kiddo." Reese smiled. "You know, I seem to remember you managed to find some food earlier. Any chance of repeating that trick?"

"Sure, if it's okay." Bri looked to Tory questioningly.

"Now that we know she's not going to need surgery, I don't see any reason she can't eat. I'll check with Jill Baker. She's the attending."

"How about Bri huts down some hoagies, and by the time she gets back, we'll have our answer?" Reese suggested. You look ready to collapse, love. Hoagies will have to do until I can get you to go home.

"You mind, Bri?" Tory asked.

"Hell, no. Anything as long as I don't have to eat what they have in the hospital cafeteria."

They all laughed and Bri hurried out.

"She's been here all day," Tory said quietly. “Nelson was here earlier, too.”

“He see Bri?” Reese’s eyes fluttered closed, and she fought them open.

“Yes. They seemed okay.”

“Good. I’m glad Bri…was here for you.”

"She's been great. It's hard to believe that she's not a kid anymore."

"Yeah," Reese agreed. "She is and she isn't, you know? She's not a kid, but she's still…so damn young." She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm a little...worried...about her."

"Rest for a little while, honey. I'll wake you when Bri gets back with the sandwiches."

"Maybe just for a few minutes," Reese murmured as she drifted off into healing slumber.

Chapter seventeen

A week later, Kate Mahoney looked up from the newspaper and regarded her daughter with amused consternation. "Reese, darling, I don't think that's exactly what Tory meant when she said you should rest today."

"If I rest anymore, I'm going to be comatose," Reese complained as she awkwardly pried open a can of primer with her left hand. The right was tucked into a sling across her chest. She wiped her hand on her faded fatigue pants and glanced at her mother in frustration. "I've been home from the hospital for four days, and I'm perfectly fine. If there were any real paperwork to do, I'd beg Nelson to put me on desk duty. But until the end of the month, there's hardly enough of that to keep him busy in the office."

"I know you're bored," Kate sympathized. "But somehow, painting a room does not seem like resting."

"It's therapy. She said I could use my hand."

"No. What she said is that you could start gentle strengthening exercises. I doubt very much that includes wielding a paintbrush."

"Did Tory assign you to spy on me?" Reese regarded her mother with faint suspicion.

"No," Kate said with a laugh. "I just happen to like your company. I know once the season starts, you're going to be too busy even to visit."

"Shouldn't you be working in the gallery? Don't you have paintings to hang or something?"

"The gallery is in good shape. Jean is taking care of everything." Kate smiled benignly. "I have absolutely nothing on my schedule."

"I'm not going to do anything foolish.” Reese stirred the paint and sighed. “I don't want anything to keep me from getting back to work as soon as possible."

"Tory said it would be a month," her mother reminded her gently.

"It needs to be a little sooner," Reese said determinedly. "The stitches will be out in another week, and there's no reason I can't start getting some of the strength back in my arm now."

"If you use it too much, too quickly, you'll just prolong the swelling."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "Is the house bugged? Tory said something just like that this morning."

"No, but I lived with your father for fifteen years, and I've seen my share of physical injuries. Marines tend to get banged up a good deal, as you may recall."

For a moment, silence descended between them.

"I suppose I'm as bad a patient as he was," Reese muttered. "Do you think we're a lot alike?"

"Only in the sense that neither of you were ever willing to admit there was something you couldn't do." Kate looked away, a distant expression in her eyes.

Reese leaned back on her heels and asked softly, "Do you hate him?"

"No," Kate replied without hesitation. "I don't like him, but I don't believe he ever did anything to intentionally hurt you. Hurt me, yes. But not you. That I would never forgive."

"He never tried to understand you."

"I doubt that he could. He couldn't change who he is anymore than I could."

"He could learn to accept some things," Reese said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Like the fact that his ex-wife and his daughter are lesbians?"

“Maybe.” Reese's smile was brittle. "Or maybe just that there are more ways to live than his way."

"I won't defend him to you, Reese. Not when he took nearly twenty years that I might have spent knowing you."

Reese drew a long breath. "Tory thinks I should tell him about the baby."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know." Reese leaned her shoulder against the wall and rubbed her eyes. "I'm not sure what the point would be. He hasn't accepted my relationship with Tory, so he certainly isn't going to accept our child."

"Perhaps it isn’t his acceptance, but your telling him that matters."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Reese said seriously.

"You and Tory are about to experience something wonderful, something precious," Kate said gently. "He's your father, one of the most significant people in your life. You need to tell him for your own sake and let him deal with his feelings the best way he can. Because if you don't, it diminishes you and your relationship with Tory."

"Like hiding being gay to avoid a court martial?"

"Reese, I know how much that bothers you. But, how does the saying go? You have to pick your battles?"

Reese grinned. "Uh huh."

"Well, when you choose not to reveal your sexuality to General Conlon, it's a professional necessity. Not telling your father about your child is personal, and in my opinion much more critical."

"Being a soldier's a lot simpler. The rules are clearer, and the decisions a lot easier to make."

"Yes, indeed." Kate smiled. "I think you're doing wonderfully as a civilian, by the way."

"I hope so," Reese said fervently. "Because Tory means more to me than anything ever could. And now…" She swallowed and met her mother's eyes. "I think I'm going to need a fair amount of advice about this parenting thing."

"I'm sure you and Tory won't have any trouble at all. I intend to do nothing except spoil him or her, which is a grandmother's right."

"Well, as long as you're available for an emergency rescue mission if I get into trouble," Reese remarked, hunting for the paint brush.

"You can count on that."

*****

Tory stopped in the middle of the dining room and cocked her head. "Why do I smell fresh paint?"

Reese swiveled on the stool at the breakfast counter and smiled. Tory had been in the clinic all day. Thirteen interminable hours. "Welcome home, love."

"Let me repeat," Tory said firmly as she crossed the room. "Who's been painting?"

"Uh, I thought I'd get started on the nursery."

"You did." It was a statement, not a question. Tory leaned her cane against the counter and regarded Reese expressionlessly. Normally, Reese was a recruiting poster example of good health and physical fitness. Now, a hint of illness still lingered. The shadows under her eyes had faded, but had not disappeared completely. Her color was better, but she was still pale. It hadn't been long enough for Tory's fear to have completely left her. "I'm going to kill you."

"Could you kiss me first?" Reese murmured, extending her good hand.

Tory moved between Reese's parted legs, resting her palm on Reese’s thigh for support. "I suppose."

"Then I'll go happy." Reese slid her arm around Tory's waist and pulled her near, dipping her head to claim soft lips. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the familiar sensation of supple warmth and tender welcome. It had been too long since they had touched this way. Tory's breasts brushed her own, and, as it always did, the pressure of Tory's body started Reese’s blood humming. She groaned faintly and worked the back of Tory's blouse free from her slacks. Her palm found the hollow at the base of her lover's spine, and she spread her fingers over the swell of hips below, urging Tory closer still.

"Reese," Tory sighed as she released the kiss. "I don't think…"

"Shh. I've missed you." Reese's voice was deep and mellow. She took Tory's mouth again, more insistently this time, probing deeper with her tongue, sucking on the full lower lip until Tory moaned. Reese closed her thighs, holding Tory captive against her.

"Your arm--"

"Is fine," Reese whispered, moving her lips to the sweet spot below Tory's jaw, kissing her way down to the faint hollow between her collar bones. She drew her fingers from Tory's back, around her side, and up underneath the front of her blouse. When she encountered the thin silk brassiere and the hard nipple beneath, she flicked her thumb across the taut peak. Tory surged against her, a sharp cry resonating from her throat. The sound of her pleasure made Reese stiffen and throb. "Ah, god, you are so perfect."

"They're so sensitive now.” Tory arched her neck, her eyes closed. “I can feel it all the way inside me when you do that."

Reese closed her eyes, too, and rested her forehead against the crook of Tory's neck, working the full nipples between her fingers, one and then the other. Tory's breasts lay heavy in her palm, a weighty fullness so sensuous it stole her breath. Listening to Tory's breathing quicken, she teased her until Tory's hands in her hair forced her head up.

"Am I hurting you?" Reese asked quickly, her eyes searching Tory's face.

"No," Tory managed hoarsely. "It feels so good I think you could make me come."

"Do you want to try?" Reese whispered through a throat tight with desire. She never stopped the rhythmic squeezing, watching Tory's green eyes darken to black with arousal.

"Mmm, no. I want to lie down so you can touch me everywhere."

Reese groaned as another jolt of excitement tore through her. Pleasing Tory always drove her to the edge, and often when Tory climaxed, she would too, spontaneously, just from hearing her lover's cries. "Bedroom?"

"Yes, now, before I can’t walk."

They managed to climb the stairs to their bedroom without losing contact, their arms around each other's waists. Once at the bedside, Tory said, "Sit down."

Wordlessly, Reese did as she was bid while Tory turned on the bedside lamp. She was aware of the steady pounding in her depths, of the pressure building, demanding relief, but she would not move until Tory directed it. Tory’s pleasure was her greatest satisfaction.

"Watch me," Tory murmured as she unbuttoned her blouse, her eyes on Reese's face. She slid it off, let it fall to the floor. "I love the way you want me."

"So much." Reese forced the words out as her hands trembled on her thighs. She caught her breath as Tory reached behind, released the clasp on her brassiere, and freed her breasts. They were fuller, lush in a way that was primordially female. Watching Tory's hands brush lightly over them, linger briefly on the swollen nipples, then slide down her abdomen made Reese's stomach clench. A pulse beat frantically between her thighs.

“Touch me,” Tory breathed, stepping closer and reaching for Reese's left hand. She drew the fingers to her breast, closing her eyes at the shock of pleasure as Reese gently squeezed. While Reese teased her, Tory unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them down along with her underclothes. Resting one hand on Reese's shoulder, she stepped free, exposing herself to her lover's view.

"You're more beautiful every day," Reese whispered, smoothing her palm down Tory's gently swelling abdomen. When her fingers brushed the soft hair at the base of her belly, Tory's hips jerked.

"Time for me to lie down," Tory said huskily, her fingers fluttering over Reese's cheek. "Be careful with your arm, sweetheart."

"I'm fine." Reese shifted to make room on the bed, leaning her right shoulder against the pillows as she turned on her side. "Lie close to me."

Tory lay on her back, her eyes on Reese's face. "Slowly."

"I will."

Knowing fingers traced her breasts, the slope of her ribs, the faint curve of her hip. Everywhere Tory’s skin tingled; every sensation seemed to center between her thighs. When Reese brushed her hand the length of Tory's leg, then up the inside, Tory's hips lifted in invitation. But Reese did not touch her where she so desperately needed to be touched, but moved instead to the other leg, stroking lightly up and down until Tory quivered with urgency.

"Please," Tory whispered.

Smiling, her breath barely moving in her chest, Reese drew a fingertip high between her lover’s legs, parting swollen folds, gasping as a flood of moisture rose to her touch.

"Yes," Tory sighed.

"Don't close your eyes," Reese demanded as she slid her fingers around Tory's clitoris, squeezing gently. She fondled her until the rhythm of Tory's rolling hips signaled she was on the edge. Then Reese moved lower, easing inside, drawing a guttural moan from her lover. She thrust slowly, watching Tory's pupils grow huge.

“Oh god,” Tory cried. “You have me so close.”

“Help me,” Reese urged, deep in her now.

Tory slid her hand down her abdomen, her eyes locked on Reese’s. The first flick of her fingertips over naked nerve endings brought her hips off the bed and wrenched a cry from her throat.

Reese groaned.

Tory kept her eyes open as long she could, watching her own pleasure reflected in Reese's face. When the pressure built too high for her to stand, she pressed harder, her hand and Reese’s moving together, driving her to orgasm.

Long moments later, Tory sighed. “Maybe you could just stay home and be my sex slave.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Reese nuzzled Tory’s ear, grinning to herself. “But sex slaves don’t cook.”

“Is that so?” Tory questioned, turning languidly on her side. She licked a bead of sweat from Reese’s neck as she reached for her fly. “Let’s check.”

Chapter eighteen 

March, Provincetown, MA

"Well! Now things will get back to normal around here," Gladys announced with a huge smile as Reese closed the office door behind her. "How are you feeling, honey?"

"Just fine," Reese replied, blushing faintly and glancing at Nelson, who just shrugged.

"Desk duty," Nelson grumbled. "That's what the doctor said."

"What, have you got my report card there or something?" Reese asked as she balanced her cap on a stack of folders that rested precariously near the edge of her desk. Ignoring his snort, she sauntered across the room to a counter along one wall that held the coffeepot. Lifting the cloudy pot, she swirled the murky contents and eyed it speculatively. "How old is this?"

Gladys pointedly turned her chair away. "Don't look at me. I don't drink that poison."

"I made it just...yesterday afternoon," Nelson admitted sheepishly. The stuff had tasted a little like battery acid that morning. Just thinking about it sent him searching in his desk drawer for his antacids.

"I think making coffee is probably considered desk duty," Reese said with a sigh. "And for your information, the doctor said I can work as long as I don't stress my arm."

“And I know your doctor, and I sure as hell don’t plan to get on her bad side,” Nelson commented. He still hadn’t forgotten the one time Tory had threatened him with bodily harm, and he’d known then that she’d not only meant it, she was capable of doing it. "Three weeks is awfully fast to come back to work."

Especially after being flat on your back and scaring the bejesus out of everyone. He still didn’t like to think about it. The only good thing to come out of the whole deal was that Bri seemed to be speaking to him again. At least a little.

"Three weeks is an awfully long time to be sitting around the house going crazy, too," Reese grumbled.

She filled the paper filter with coffee, settled it into the plastic chamber, and slid it home. After punching the on button, she turned and gave the room a contented once over. Nothing had changed, except the pile of paperwork on her desk looked like it had gone through several generations of reproduction while she'd been gone. "And if we don't get the hiring done and all the paperwork in order before the end of this month, we're going to be behind for the rest of the summer."

Nelson chewed the chalky tablet absently, fingering a dog-eared piece of paper as he read it for at least the tenth time. Then, without comment, he passed it from his desk to Reese’s. "That's the first order of business. What you decide to do about it is up to you."

"What is it?" she asked curiously as she settled behind her desk. The chair creaked in its familiar fashion as her body settled into the seat.

"I've got to sit in on one of those damn town council meetings," Nelson announced as he rose abruptly. In less than a minute he had fished his hat from the rack by the door, settled it on his head, and walked out through the door, leaving Reese to stare after him in surprise.

When she raised a questioning eyebrow at Gladys, the older woman merely shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't have any idea what's going on with that man. But something is surely bothering him, and I can only think of a couple of things that might be."

Reese nodded contemplatively and turned her attention to the document Nelson had given her. It was an official inquiry, addressed to her, that had undoubtedly been opened in her absence to be sure that some important business had not gone unattended. She skimmed it quickly and thought she understood at least one reason for Nelson's disquiet.

*****

Reese phoned ahead to the clinic as she drove. They still had plenty of time before their flight, but it never hurt to give Tory a little advance warning. When the phone was answered by an extremely harried sounding receptionist, she figured her lover had probably gotten backed up.

"East End Health Clinic, hold please." A moment later, Randy returned. "How may I help you?"

"Hi Randy, it's Reese. How's Tory doing?"

"If she hurries, she'll only be a little late." He laughed distractedly. "So I would say it's business as usual."

"Did she have lunch?"

"I ordered it, Reese." Randy's tone vacillated between irritation and frustration. "I can't make her eat it."

Reese sighed, curbing her temper with effort. It wasn’t Randy's fault if Tory worked too hard, and it certainly wasn't his responsibility to see that she took a lunch break. "Do me a favor, will you? Have Sally pack it up, and I'll see that she eats it on the plane."

"Uh-huh…”

His voice faded away and she heard a muffled, “Excuse me…don’t let him eat that pen, please.”

“It’s important,” she said loudly enough to get his attention.

“I know, Reese,” Randy replied, affronted.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m just a little…”

“Never mind. We love her, too. Look, I’m up to my behind here…”

“Right. Thanks again. I’ll wait outside.”

At only a few moments past their appointed rendezvous time, Tory exited through the front door of her one story medical office building and hurried across the parking lot to Reese’s Blazer. She carried her briefcase in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

"You can't harass my staff in the middle of office hours, Sheriff," Tory advised threateningly as she slid into the front seat.

"Says who? I'm the law around here."

Tory leaned over and kissed Reese on the mouth, then glanced pointedly at Reese’s right arm and frowned. "You're not supposed to be driving."

"Number one, Nelson is still in a meeting. Number two, I'm fine." To prove her point, Reese keyed the ignition and headed the SUV toward the street.

“How are you feeling, really? And I don't want a two word answer."

Reese grinned. "Being pregnant makes you cranky."

"You haven't seen cranky yet, sweetheart. Now let's have a progress report."

"No swelling, no numbness, and... just a little stiff and sore."

"Good." Tory leaned back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

"You okay?" Reese asked, glancing over in concern.

Tory rested her left hand on Reese’s thigh and patted her gently. "It was hectic this morning, that's all."

"Do you have your lunch?"

Smiling, Tory turned her head and opened her eyes. "Yes, I do. As per your instructions. Whatever it is you do to Randy, you make him nervous. There was no way he was letting me out of the building without it. I was afraid he was going to do a full body search."

Reese grinned. "If he tries that, I'll really make him nervous."

"Are you okay about this afternoon?"

"Shouldn't I be?" Reese asked quickly. Routine. You said it would just be routine.

Chapter nineteen

Forty-five minutes later, Reese was nervous. "Tell me again what this is going to show."

They were seated on facing chairs in one corner of Wendy Deutsch’s waiting room. There were two other couples in the room, the female members of each pair conspicuously pregnant. Tory rested her hand on Reese’s knee. The thick khaki fabric of her uniform pants was as reassuringly solid as Reese herself. “It will give Wendy, and us, some information about the baby. How it’s developing. If we didn’t know exactly when the date of conception was, it would help determine fetal age, too.”

Reese cleared her throat, ignoring the faint churning in her stomach. “So it’s routine.”

“Almost eighty percent of pregnant women have an ultrasound done at some point during their pregnancy,” Tory assured her. “And for high-ri…for women over thirty-five, it’s absolutely standard.”

High risk. She doesn’t think I know? Reese covered Tory’s hand with hers and squeezed gently. “And we’ll be able to see its…parts?”

“What parts would you be referring to?” Tory asked with a laugh. “Besides, I thought you said you didn’t care.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Reese grumbled in mock indignation. “The head and the heart and the spine. Those parts.”

“Very good, Sheriff. Yes, at eleven weeks we can see the heart beat and with a good image, we can tell if the neural crest elements…the brain and spinal cord…are developing normally.”

God, what if…But that was like wondering what an upcoming battle would be like. What it might be like to be shot or killed. Pointless musings about an eventuality that might never arise. Reese straightened her shoulders, and, with the long-ingrained gesture, her nervousness disappeared. “Will you be able to tell its sex, if you see it?”

“Well, if I see it, I’ll know. But not seeing a penis doesn’t mean it’s not a boy. It just means it doesn’t show.”

“But I won’t be able to tell,” Reese pointed out in a rare show of pique. “I’ve seen those pictures in your books. It looks like bunch of blanks in a snowstorm.”

“I’ll make sure you see, if you want to.”

“If you know, I want to know.”

“Deal.” Tory extended her hand to seal the bargain.

Reese smiled and took Tory’s hand, but she didn’t shake it. She folded it between both of hers and leaned forward to murmur, “I love you.”

“I lo…”

“You two all set?” Wendy’s nurse asked as she approached with a chart in one hand.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

Forty minutes later, Tory was dressed again, and she and Reese waited in one of the consultation rooms for Wendy to return with the printouts of the ultrasound examination.

“So, what do you think about names?” Reese asked, her blue eyes dancing. “Something nice and strong to go with King, like yours. Victoria Conlon King. Great name for a girl. Oh, but Victoria’s already taken. And we already have too many  Cs and Ks in the family. My mother, Kate. Your sister, Catherine. Maybe—”

“Reese, sweetheart,” Tory said calmly. “We don’t know it’s a girl.”

“Well, yeah, but we saw everything. So if it was there, we would’ve seen—”

The door opened and Wendy came in. “Okay,” she said briskly as she walked around the cluttered desk and sat down. She extended her hand with the polaroids. “Here you go. Baby’s first pictures.”

Grinning, Reese took them, then glanced down as she shuffled through the images. Suddenly all the black and white splotches looked miraculously like arms and legs and facial expressions.

“Everything seems fine with the fetus,” Wendy commented neutrally.

Fine with the fetus…Reese looked up instantly, her eyes darkening, focused and intent. She glanced at Tory, whose expression was unreadable.

“Your blood pressure is just a tad high, Tory.”

“Yes, I know,” Tory replied evenly. “I’ve been charting it for the last few weeks. It’s been running a bit above normal, but today is about the highest it’s been. I guess I was a little nervous.”

“Understandable,” Wendy said kindly. “And nothing to get alarmed about, although it bears watching. Keep a log. Call me if it starts reading higher. For now, limit your salt intake. And no caffeine.”

Tory groaned.

“Sorry.” Wendy grinned. “Regular exercise, and plenty of rest.”

“Can I keep kayaking?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“What about the dojo?” Reese asked quietly. “Should she quit?”

“Not for a few months,” Wendy replied. “I wouldn’t let an inexperienced student throw you, Tory, but ordinary workouts should be fine.”

“Okay,” Tory agreed, watching Reese. She had gotten very still, and a muscle bunched at the base of her jaw. Ah, damn. I didn’t handle this very well.

“Good.” Wendy stood. “Then I’ll see you in two weeks. I’ve got to run. Call me any time.”

After she left, Reese asked flatly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tory debated several answers, but there was really only one thing she could say. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Reese reached over and took her hand. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

“No,” Tory murmured, lifting Reese’s hand to her lips. “I won’t.

The taxi ride to the airport was quiet, and Tory napped on the short flight back to the tiny Provincetown airport.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" Tory asked as they settled into the Blazer.

"It's been a long day," Reese commented quietly. "Let's go home, and I'll cook."

"Perfect."

When they reached the house, Jed's exuberant barking welcomed them. As they walked up the path to the rear deck, Tory suggested, "How about I take him for a walk while you start dinner?"

"Great. He'll like that." Reese unlocked and opened the door, then leaned over to kiss Tory lightly on the cheek. "You've got at least forty-five minutes."

Tory ran her fingers lightly down Reese's arm. "See you soon."

Reese watched her disappear down the path to the harbor and wondered what was bothering her. And when she would share it.

*****

The beach was deserted. Tory released Jed's lead and let him run. She walked along the water's edge, watching the last memory of sunlight shimmer and die across the water.

"Hey, Jedi, we're going to have a baby," she whispered. "What do you think, huh? Pretty amazing."

He didn’t answer, but his large form in the gathering night was a comfort. As shadows turned to darkness around her, she watched stars flicker on overhead. "Pretty scary, too."

Her stomach was queasy from the events of the afternoon, and it wasn’t just the news about t