Night Tide

by Anna Burke

  Morgan glanced at the door. “Just remember you’re the board-certified specialist, and she and I are just lowly general practitioners.”

  “True.” She paused. Petty victories were better than none, but Morgan didn’t get it. This went beyond one-upmanship. “Not the lowly part. Just . . . is it wrong if that does make me feel better?”

  “You?” said Stevie. “Competitive? Not at all.”

  “I’m going to drug your food one of these days.”

  “Malpractice. I’m sure Ivy’s sister would love to represent me.”

  A smile twitched one corner of her mouth. Perhaps she was overreacting a tiny bit. All Ivy had done was walk into the room. Things were different. She’d grown, freed from the shade of Ivy’s influence, and this time she wouldn’t let Ivy turn her into someone she didn’t recognize.

  Not that I’ve gotten off to a great start.

  “Fine. I’m not promising to give her a chance, but I will be polite.”

  “Good, because I do not want to get in the middle of you two ever again. Do you remember when we were stuck in the same lab group?”

  The rogue smile twisted into a grimace. “Yes.”

  “What was that like?” asked Stevie.

  “Literal hell.”

  “It was her, not me,” said Lillian. “She questioned everything I said.”

  “And you never questioned her?”

  “She was wrong.”

  “She’s hot, though.”

  “Thank you, Stevie, for that edifying bit of knowledge.”

  “I don’t remember her being that gay,” said Morgan with a thoughtful expression.

  “She’s not.” Lillian did not want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever.

  “Oh, she definitely is. Did you see her swagger? And that handshake?” Stevie fanned herself.

  “Well her personality sucks. And I hate blondes.”

  “What did we ever do to you?” Stevie stroked her fair head in wounded solidarity.

  “Lil,” said Morgan. “You’re freaking out.”

  She ran her hands through her hair and let out a long breath. “I know. I just feel like I’m twenty-five again, and I hate it.”

  “Yeah, well,” said Stevie as she slid off the counter and clapped a hand on Lillian’s shoulder, “with great age comes great wisdom.”

  “Fuck off, Stevie.”

  “Ouch.” Stevie shot Morgan a wounded look. “It’s not my fault I’m aging better than both of you.”

  • • •

  Ivy trailed Morgan through the Seal Cove large animal facility and tried not to compare it to the state-of-the-art equine practice she’d just left. The barn was clean and well lit, even if it didn’t have an equine surgery suite, and the technician, Stevie, seemed pleasant enough.

  “Who are the other large animal technicians?” she asked Morgan.

  “You’ll get Shawna for now. She had a doctor’s appointment this morning, but she’ll be in soon. She knows the ropes.”

  Having a technician she trusted was essential, especially now. Already she missed Max, her preferred tech in Colorado, and she shot Stevie a covetous glance. “Any chance you can spare this one?”

  Morgan laughed. She had a nice laugh: warm and rich, and Ivy allowed herself to relax fractionally. She might have been friendlier at school with Morgan if it hadn’t been for Lillian.

  “If you think you can handle her, sure.”

  Ivy tried to focus on the rest of the tour, but as Morgan pointed out the supplies in the treatment area, her thoughts drifted back to Lillian. Some things didn’t change. She’d seen the flash of anger in Lillian’s eyes when Danielle Watson explained Ivy would be working both large and small animal shifts. She suppressed a smile. Goading Lillian was too easy. It always had been, and she recalled the angry flush on her cheekbones with satisfaction. She’d been so worried about how she’d react to seeing her again that she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed provoking her.

  Other things did change. Gone were the washed-out jeans and baggy T-shirts Lillian had worn in school. The blouse she’d worn today, while partially hidden by her starched coat, fit her properly, and the material looked like it was of decent quality. Her slacks, too, fit—which presented more of a problem. Lillian Lee had been cute at best in her baggy secondhand wardrobe with her glasses and her tousled hair.

  She wasn’t cute now. Her hair seemed sleeker, her glasses trimmer, her style cleaner, and her face . . . Her face hadn’t changed. Those large brown eyes, so soft until they met her own—when they hardened into cassiterite—still gutted her. Eyes like that could break a person open. She dropped her gaze. That proved to be a mistake. Lillian’s full lips, quick to smile for everyone but her, made her want to bite something.

  “Lillian specialized?” she asked Morgan as they left the barn to tour the clinic truck.

  “She always liked exotics.”

  In school, both she and Lillian had been interested in surgery. She wondered what had happened to change Lillian’s mind. “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t end up in a specialty.”

  Ivy remembered her parents’ horrified expressions when she told them she had decided to go into equine general practice. “I fell in love with ambulatory during my internship.”

  Morgan leaned against the truck and met her eyes. “Really?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Honestly? Yeah.”

  “Was it the lip gloss?” She crossed her arms over her chest and met Morgan stare for stare. Better we get this out of the way now. Stevie, she noticed, looked like she needed a bucket of popcorn to match her enthralled expression.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s dangerous to underestimate a horse girl. I can do terrible things with baling twine.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” said Stevie.

  “You just seemed so set on surgery.”

  “I was.” She patted the hood of the truck. “And then I wasn’t.”

  Morgan nodded, and Ivy saw a glimmer of respect in her eyes.

  Surgery had been her parents’ dream. They’d wanted her to go into human medicine. When she expressed an interest in veterinary medicine, they’d adjusted, but only on the grounds she achieved a similar level of prestige. Equine surgery had seemed like the best alternative for Ivy to get what she wanted, and she enjoyed surgery—just not as much as she’d found she enjoyed being on the road, visiting farms and talking to clients, and getting away from the pressures that had shaped her entire life. That, however, was not something she was about to confess to Morgan.

  “You mostly did horses in Colorado, right?”

  “Yes. Livestock will be a switch for me, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  She’d spent the past month reading over her notes from school and scouring veterinary journals, trying to catch up on the last few years of research. While she didn’t feel entirely prepared, she also knew that was part of the game. The only way to really learn any profession was to do it, and she did, at least, know how to handle clients.

  “Most of our clients are good people. Small farms. They won’t give you a hard time.”

  Ivy bristled at the implication. “Trust me, I can handle assholes.”

  “I bet you can,” said Morgan, and Stevie covered a “that’s what she said” with a cough. Morgan gave her technician a quelling glare.

  “What?” Stevie glared right back. “That’s your job description. ‘I stick my hands up animal butts for money.’”

  “On second thought,” Morgan said to Ivy, “if you want Stevie, she’s yours.”

  • • •

  Ivy braced herself for Darwin’s explosive greeting as she opened the front door. His routine consisted of a series of impossibly high jumps, interrupted by pauses to spin in tight circles at her feet, before he shot past her to pee on the nearest bit of shrubbery.

  Opening the door to her rental felt strange. She missed Colorado and her friends, most of whom were
her coworkers, and the easy familiarity of their banter cast the awkwardness of her first day into sharper relief. Kicking off her boots, she watched Darwin zoom around the yard, scattering leaves as he went until he remembered her arrival signified his dinnertime and shot back into the house.

  Ten minutes and a change of clothes later found her sitting on her couch with a cup of tea, wearing sweatpants and a cashmere fisherman’s sweater and staring out at the water. Darwin curled on the couch’s back with his nose pressed to her ear. Red and orange leaves drifted down in the evening light, and a few boats made their way up and down the river. Maybe she’d get a kayak this summer, if she hadn’t rethought this whole thing and slunk back to Colorado by then. At least she could spend the winter skiing. The thought of skiing alone, though, only worsened her mood. She also wasn’t sure she could trust her body on the slopes.

  I could join a yoga studio, she thought as a wave of nerve pain skittered across her ribs. Yoga wasn’t really her thing, but she’d be around people who didn’t hate her for the person she’d been in her early twenties, which was a plus, and it was also gentler on her joints than running.

  Steam from her tea wreathed her face. She breathed in the mint fragrance. She couldn’t blame Lillian for the way she felt. Neither, however, could she seem to stop herself from falling back into old patterns. Something about Lillian Lee had always made her want to push and keep pushing until one of them snapped. Part of her welcomed it. At least Lillian was something tangible she could fight, unlike her body, and it wasn’t like they could hurt each other any more than they already had.

  It was many and many a year ago,

  In a kingdom by the sea,

  That a maiden there lived whom you may know

  By the name of Lillian Lee.

  The high school English teacher who’d made her memorize that Edgar Allan Poe poem couldn’t possibly have imagined the depths of torture it would bring her. Annabel and Lillian were too easily interchanged.

  Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID, then ignored it and waited for the voicemail to come through. Only then did she pick up. Kara’s voice sounded against a windy background. “Hi. Just calling to see how your first day went. I know . . . I know we’re not talking, right now, but I wanted . . . I just . . . Anyway. Hope you’re doing okay.”

  She deleted the message. Kara was better off without her.

  Chapter Two

  “I am so angry at myself for sending you to Briar Hill,” Lillian said to Emilia as they set out on their jogging date.

  “Second week is going well, then?”

  Emilia Russo, who was dating Morgan after a summer of tension that Lillian and the rest of their friends had watched unfold like a beautiful train wreck, had taken a job at a nearby veterinary hospital instead of the opening at Seal Cove, thanks to Lillian’s recommendation. Her reward for her good deed? Ivy Holden.

  “She is just as arrogant as she used to be. She waltzes in like she owns the place and starts ordering my techs around—”

  “Technically aren’t they hers now, too?”

  “And then has the gall to tell me I prescribed the wrong dose for one of my patients—my patients—when all the literature says a lower dose is actually more effective long term. As if she would even know. She hasn’t done small animal in years.”

  “That is some bullshit. But you won’t overlap in exotics, at least.”

  “I wish we would. That would teach her.”

  The feel of her feet pounding the pavement usually helped her burn off steam. Tonight, however, it only seemed to fuel her anger. One full week of working with Ivy had proven that absolutely nothing about their relationship had changed, and the second was not getting off to a good start.

  “I swear she’s out to get me.”

  “It is a little weird she ended up here,” said Emilia.

  “Just wait till you meet her. It will happen eventually.”

  They turned down a quiet road paralleling the river. Another jogger appeared ahead of them with a little dog.

  “Not food,” Emilia told her greyhound.

  “I’m going to need to start taking blood pressure medication. I can’t be in the same hospital as her. She’s like a dog fart. She permeates.”

  Ahead, the jogger paused to retie a shoe. She didn’t pay any attention. All she could think about was the smug smile on Ivy’s face when she’d suggested Lillian catch up on the latest issue of Clinician’s Brief.

  “Should we cross to the other side of the road?”

  “Why?” Lillian asked.

  Emilia pointed at the figure drawing rapidly near.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me.” She came to a dead halt, surprising Emilia, as the other jogger looked up from tying her shoe.

  Ivy’s ponytail swayed as she recoiled in surprise. Her running pants clung to her muscular thighs—she must still be riding—and her shirt was the sort of athletic racer-back crop top Lillian hated on principle. Growing up in the early 2000s had forever embittered her against clothing that bared her midriff. It didn’t help that Ivy pulled it off, just like she pulled off everything else.

  “Um,” said Emilia.

  Lillian broke eye contact with Ivy and glanced at her friend, who was staring at both of them with a quizzical tilt to her eyebrows. Ivy’s dog, meanwhile, had taken advantage of his owner’s distraction to size up Emilia’s. The greyhound pretended not to see him. It occurred to Lillian after a moment that there had been a very long and very awkward pause, and that as the point of commonality, it was up to her to break it.

  “Emilia,” she said, snarling in an approximation of a smile, “this is my new coworker, Ivy Holden.”

  As if her name was a charm, Ivy stood in a graceful motion that made Lillian want to hamstring her and called her dog back to her side, where he sat and wagged his stub tail. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about Darwin.”

  “Darwin?”

  “Proof of Darwin’s law,” said Ivy.

  Emilia laughed, which made Lillian hate her just a little bit. Ivy wasn’t funny. Her charm so often had teeth.

  “This is Nell. She likes to pretend she’s the only dog in the room.”

  “A perfect combination then. And, once he flushes things from their burrows, Nell can chase them.”

  “If only we were on a foxhunt,” said Lillian in her coldest voice. Ivy had told her a story once about going foxhunting, and the image had haunted her: Ivy in a red coat astride her horse, hounds baying. In her nightmares, Lillian was always the fox. “Sorry to interrupt your workout.”

  “Not at all. Were you jogging this way?” Ivy pointed down the road they were following.

  “No,” said Lillian, at the same time Emilia said “yes.”

  Ivy’s smile grew. “Mind if I jog with you for a bit?” While Lillian gawked at her, Ivy turned to Emilia. “Lil and I went to school together. We used to work out at the same time. I always found her dedication . . . inspiring.”

  “If by dedication you mean my ability to lift more than you, then yes, I agree.”

  Although judging by Ivy’s shoulders, those days were over. She’d added muscle in the intervening years, whereas Lillian had stopped lifting regularly and mostly focused on running. There’s a metaphor I should never examine too closely.

  “We’ll see about that. How far are you going?”

  They’d already done a mile, and usually averaged three or four. “Five,” she said. Emilia shot her a sideways glance.

  “Nice. I’ve been doing six, but I probably should take it easy today.”

  Lillian didn’t scream, for which she was very proud of herself.

  “Let’s get to it, then.” She took off at a faster clip than normal. She’d regret it soon, but not as much as she’d regret appearing weak in front of Ivy.

  Emilia and Ivy caught up shortly. She hoped Ivy would jog on Emilia’s other side, but instead she flanked Lillian “for the sake of the dogs.”

  What about my sake, she thought about
saying, but settled for staring at the shoulder of the road as it unspooled before her.

  “Can your dog handle a jog this long?” Emilia asked.

  “This little guy?” She saw Ivy smile at her dog out of the corner of her eye. “He can go longer than I can.”

  “Something he and I have in common.”

  This time, Ivy’s smile was solely for Lillian. The smirk—she refused to grant it grin status on principle—was as familiar as her favorite sweater. The challenge in Ivy’s eyes hardened her resolve even as her heart rate accelerated. This was how it had always been between them. No truce, no mercy, no ground ceded—only war.

  “Colorado must be beautiful this time of year,” said Emilia. Lillian got the impression she was trying to steer them into less volatile territory. She’d learn quickly there was no such thing, but she let Emilia draw Ivy into conversation while she waited for her next opportunity to pounce. Ivy had her charm on full force. She laughed when appropriate and asked leading questions to keep Emilia talking. Was she imagining that Ivy seemed to be having a hard time catching her breath? She picked up her pace fractionally. Ivy, mid-question, matched her with a grim set to her lips.

  Lillian’s legs, lungs, and abdominals were on fire by the time Emilia called for a cooldown. She tried not to stagger as she broke into a walk. They were all breathing hard. Ivy’s face glowed, a reminder she never turned the beet red shade Lillian did, and she laughed in between deep breaths.

  “Damn, Lil. I forgot how fast you are.”

  It was the closest thing to a compliment she’d ever received from Ivy Holden.

  • • •

  Ivy collapsed against her front door and rested her face against the cool wood. She hurt. The nerve pain started in her shoulder blades and spiked down her arms and into her hands, electric jolts that made her fumble her keys as her vision blurred.

  She’d lied to Lillian. These days, she was lucky to make it three miles before her body gave out. In periods of relative calm, when her symptoms were at bay, she could work out harder and longer, but the stress of the move had triggered her neuropathy. Kicking off her shoes with half-numb feet, she checked that Darwin had water and made for the bathroom. The sound of the tub filling with hot water soothed her as she stretched. When the deep tub was close to overflowing and a Lush bath bomb foamed across its surface, she slowly lowered herself beneath the water.