She’d managed to fashion an acceptable look and had started out of her bedroom when the signal rang out again. “Just a second,” she said as she headed for the front door. She glanced around the living room to make sure nothing needed a last-moment tidying, then reached up and touched a control in the wall. The door panel slipped open, but unexpectedly, Ricardo did not stand outside in the hallway.
Leonard did.
“Hello, Tonia,” he said.
“Leonard,” she said, unable to conceal her surprise. “What the—?” She stopped herself, realizing that she’d been about to pose her question in an impolite manner. She paused for a second and then tried again. “I don’t intend to be rude,” she said, “but what are you doing here?” She attempted to keep her tone light, but in addition to a small buzz of excitement at seeing this man she had once loved, she also felt an echo of the resentment she had harbored for him, as well as a background note of the anger he’d caused in her when he’d treated her so shabbily—not once, but twice.
“I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes,” he said. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Um, I don’t know,” Barrows said honestly. As she’d told him four years ago, at the Zee-Magnees Prize ceremony, she really didn’t have anything to say to him. When she opened her mouth to tell him that now, though, she found herself hedging. “I’m going out in about half an hour,” she said. “Maybe we can talk some other time.” Later, when he contacted her to find out when they could meet, she would tell him that there didn’t seem to be any reason for them to do so.
“This should only take a couple of minutes,” Leonard said. “But if you’d rather not talk now, or not at all—”
She didn’t know if he’d perceived in her hesitation her intention never to talk with him, but the possibility that he had embarrassed her. “No, no,” she said, perhaps a little too hastily. “Please come in.”
Barrows stepped aside as Leonard stepped into her apartment, and then she closed the door. Behind him, she glanced around to again make sure that nothing was out of place. Light and airy, she’d decorated the place mostly in shades of white and other neutral hues. Here in the living room, a sofa and love seat faced each other across a low, white table surfaced in glass. Farther in, to the left, a dining area bordered the wide French doors that led out to the balcony, which overlooked the Columbia River Gorge. The kitchen sat hidden behind a wall to the right of the dining area, and a door in each of the side walls led to a bedroom, one of which she utilized as an office.
“You have a lovely place here,” Leonard said. He drifted toward the long table in the dining area, apparently gazing past the balcony and out at the gorge.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s home.”
“How long have you been here?” Leonard asked, still peering outside.
“In this apartment?” she asked. “Or in Portland?”
“Both,” Leonard said.
“I’ve lived in this apartment for two years, and in Portland for ten,” Barrows said. “I’m conducting research for Starfleet at the new chronometrics lab at—” She stopped again, uncomfortable with revealing even the slightest personal details to Leonard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Why is it that you’ve come?”
Leonard turned and looked at her. He looked good, she thought, and not much different than when she’d last seen him. The front edges of his hair had frosted a bit more, perhaps, and the lines of his face had become etched a trifle deeper, but he looked healthy and even dashing.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said.
“Really?” Barrows said, surprised.
“Yes,” he said. “I treated you very badly—twice—and I wanted you to know that I’m very sorry for having done that.”
“All right,” Barrows said tentatively, nonplussed. “I don’t think it was necessary for you to come here and say that, but—” She experienced a moment of déjà vu. Her words sounded and felt familiar, and she quickly realized why. “You know, I just remembered that you already did this, Leonard.”
“What?” he said.
“You already apologized for treating me badly,” she said. “At Madame Chang’s, I think.” She could picture him in the dim environs of the Chinese restaurant, ashamedly telling her how sorry he felt for having hurt her when they had been together on the Enterprise.
Leonard looked away, as though in thought. When he peered back over at her, he motioned toward the love seat. “May we sit down?” he asked.
Barrows wanted to say no, wanted to remind him that she had to leave soon, but instead she said, “Sure.” She moved to take a seat on the sofa, on the other side of the glass table from him.
“When I apologized back in San Francisco, I meant it,” Leonard said. “I just didn’t understand exactly why I meant it.”
A flare of anger burned momentarily through Barrows at what seemed like obfuscation. “What does that mean?” she asked in a clipped tone.
“Tonia, I’ve become aware of certain patterns in my life, certain behaviors that I’ve repeated over and over again,” Leonard said. “My whole life, I’ve run from women when I’ve gotten close to them.”
Barrows blinked. She didn’t know about other women in Leonard’s life, but he’d obviously lived that pattern with her. And actually Barrows did know about other women, she realized, recalling that he’d been married for a brief time to the mother of his daughter. “Okay,” she said, noncommittal.
“I think I always knew that,” he said, “but in sort of an organic way, not really consciously. But I’ve finally come to understand why I’ve acted the way I have, why I’ve continually run from serious romantic relationships.”
“Okay,” Barrows repeated, unsure why Leonard wanted to tell her this, and equally unsure why she needed to hear it.
“Tonia, I don’t expect you to forgive me for the way I treated you, but I think it’s important for me to explain it,” he said. “It’s definitely important for me to say it, but I think it also might be good for you to hear it.”
“I’m listening,” Barrows said.
“This is difficult,” Leonard said. “When I was born, there were complications. My mother died in childbirth.”
“Oh,” Barrows said, startled not only by the content of what Leonard had said, but at his need to tell her this. She didn’t see how this bore on his apology.
“I never knew my mother, obviously,” Leonard said, “but one thing that eventually became readily apparent to me was that my father very much loved her.” He hesitated for just a moment, taking a breath before continuing. “Another thing that became apparent was that he blamed me for her death.”
The claim seemed ridiculous to Barrows for its inherent cruelty. “That doesn’t sound right,” she said.
“My father was a decent man,” Leonard went on. “I don’t think he wanted to blame me, but he did. Deep inside, he held me responsible. I think that for most of my life, he would look at me and predominantly see the instrument of his wife’s death.”
“Leonard,” Barrows said, her voice sympathetic.
“It is what it is,” Leonard said. “It was what it was. And then when I was a young doctor, my father got very ill. He was in a great deal of physical pain, and after a while he asked me…he begged me…to release him. I didn’t want to. There were a thousand reasons to sustain him, but the one reason he really needed—the love of his life—had been gone for a long time. He’d spent time with a couple of other women after I was born, and one for a few years when I was in my teens, but I think he did that simply to distract himself from his emotional pain. By the time he’d gotten sick, he’d been alone again for a while. Really he’d been alone since the day my mother died. When he asked me to help him, to release him from his pain, I don’t think he meant only his physical pain; I think he’d wanted to let go for a very long time.”
Barrows knew that she shouldn’t ask, but she did anyway: “Did you—?” Leonard’s face had grown ashen, she saw, bu
t he forged on, exhibiting a strength of character that she found impressive.
“Yes, I did,” Leonard said. “And I still carry the scars from that around with me. But even before that, I had scars…maybe not even…maybe open wounds. I couldn’t stay close to you, Tonia, or to Jocelyn, the woman I married when I was in medical school. I couldn’t stay close to any woman with whom I got involved because…because I didn’t want…I couldn’t deal with the pain of losing somebody close to me again.”
Barrows said nothing, shocked by Leonard’s revelations. She wouldn’t have guessed it before he’d come here today, before he’d told her what he just had, but his words did help her, easing whatever low-level ache remained from their aborted romances. She considered telling him that, but thought that it missed the point; this was not about her, but about Leonard. “I don’t know how to react,” she told him.
“You don’t have to react at all,” he said. “I’m not looking for forgiveness. I’m not even sure I deserve it. Just because I can now pinpoint a reason for my poor behavior doesn’t excuse it. But it does explain it, and I wanted to tell you because…well, because I loved you…I loved you very much…and I wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, that I didn’t want to, and that I’m very sorry that I did.”
Barrows wanted to go to him, to take his hand, to take him in her arms. She knew, though, that such actions would be wrong, would dilute what she thought Leonard had come here not only to say, but to hear himself say. She waited for him to go on, and when after a few moments, he didn’t, she said, “Leonard, I’ve already forgiven you.” She paused, rolling over in her mind what it occurred to her to say next, wondering whether he could accept the humor in it, and she decided to risk it. “I’ve forgiven you twice!” she said, and felt gratified to see him smile. “When we went our separate ways aboard the Enterprise,” she said, “I didn’t really understand what went wrong between us. But after our two years in San Francisco, I started to think that you had to be fighting something within yourself. I couldn’t figure out exactly why you left me, but I thought that when you did, you probably hurt yourself just as much—or more—than you hurt me.”
“I don’t know,” Leonard said. “That might be true. I’ve been learning a lot about myself these days. I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for about a year now, and he’s really helping me.”
A year, Barrows thought, and believed that she recognized the event that might have proven a catalyst for Leonard: the death of his dear friend, Jim Kirk. Barrows had been very sorry to hear about the captain’s heroic death aboard the new Enterprise, and she’d attended his memorial. She’d seen Leonard speak very eloquently there, though she didn’t think that he’d seen her. She thought now, though, that perhaps yet another tragic loss in his life had brought Leonard to these self-discoveries.
“Anyway,” he said with a slight smile that seemed more of an effort than a natural occurrence, “since I can now talk about this without breaking down, I thought it was time to come see you.”
“I understand,” Barrows said. “I think—” The door signal chimed again, interrupting her. “Oh,” she said, standing up. “That’s Ricardo.” Then, not wanting to lie to Leonard, or hide anything from him, she added, “My date.”
“Oh,” Leonard said, standing as well. She could not read the expression on his face, but she thought it might be disappointment.
No, she thought. After all these years, after all he’d revealed today, could he still have feelings for her?
“I’m sorry,” Leonard said. “The last thing I wanted to do was disrupt your life.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “This was important.” She walked over to the door and touched the control beside it. The door opened, and Ricardo did indeed stand there this time. Tall, with a dark complexion and strong features, he was a handsome man who had pursued her for a few months now, until finally she’d agreed to see him. This was to be their second date. “Ricardo, hello,” she said. “Come in.”
“Hi,” Ricardo said as he walked inside. Tonia reached to close the door, but then opted not to. She heard Ricardo say, “Hello,” obviously to Leonard. She thought she could detect confusion and perhaps dejection in Ricardo’s voice. He clearly hadn’t expected to find a man in his date’s apartment when he arrived to pick her up.
“This is my good friend, Doctor Leonard McCoy,” Barrows said. “Leonard, this is Professor Ricardo Beltrán.” The two men moved toward each other and shook hands.
“How do you do,” Leonard said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Ricardo returned.
“Well,” Leonard said with a note of finality, “I was just leaving.” He walked to the door, turning to Barrows before exiting. “Tonia, thank you for your time. I really appreciate it.” He held out his hand. She took it, but rather than shaking hands, she pulled him close to her and deposited a peck on his cheek.
“Thank you, Leonard,” she said. “Be well.” She smiled at him, and he left. She closed the door after him, then turned toward Ricardo.
“How do you know him?” he asked with only a hint of jealousy.
“Just an old shipmate from my Enterprise days,” she said. And then something clicked inside her. She held up a finger to Ricardo and said, “Hold on just a second. I forgot to tell Leonard something.” She stepped over to the door again and opened it, then walked out into the hall. Up ahead, she saw Leonard waiting for the turbolift to arrive. “Leonard,” she said. He looked up and she hurried over to him. “Ricardo’s just a friend,” she told him. “If you want to, give me a call sometime.” She almost couldn’t believe it herself, but she still had emotions—strong emotions—for Leonard. When she’d been a girl, her mother had often told her that, in all the wide, wide universe, there was just one person, one great love, for everybody, and if you were very lucky, you found each other.
“I’d like that,” Leonard said.
“We can have coffee,” Barrows said as nonchalantly as she could manage, but then she added, “Or maybe dinner.” She smiled at Leonard, then turned and headed back to her apartment and her last date with Ricardo.
Maybe, just maybe, Mom was right after all, she thought. And maybe I’ve finally gotten lucky.
It would be hot and humid later this afternoon, but right now a light breeze kept the noontime pleasant. Standing in the grass, McCoy turned his head and peered out across the pond, where swans floated gracefully along the placid surface. Out past the water, past the clearing surrounding it, he could see down the mountain and into the gorge, where the Columbia River ambled by on its way to the Pacific. A patch of cerulean sky showed above the scene, all of it framed by the tall, old trees that encircled this lovely setting.
To his left, the music started, a slow, lilting love ballad from out of history. While the harpist plucked lithely at the strings of her instrument, Uhura began to sing, her voice as full and melodic as ever it had been. He saw her looking in his direction, and she winked at him, a playful gesture that reflected her light heart, he thought, and he smiled back at her.
He felt a touch on the side of his arm, and he looked around to see Joanna smiling too. Wearing an eye-catching burgundy dress, she rubbed his upper arm, obviously pleased and wanting to show that to him. He reached up and patted her hand, so happy that she’d agreed to stand beside him today.
As Uhura’s beautiful song continued, McCoy peered out over all of the people who’d gathered here today. He saw all the familiar faces from the Enterprise: Pavel, Christine, Jabilo, and others. His old Starfleet Medical colleagues, Dorsant and Olga Zhuravlova, had come as well.
A pall of sadness darkened his spirits as he thought of Jim, who he thought would’ve enjoyed this day so much. He missed Spock, too, though he felt a blend of anger and disappointment when he thought of his old friend. In an ideal universe, both Jim and Spock would’ve been here today, but as McCoy knew all too well, the universe rarely functioned in anything even remotely approaching an ideal manner.
Befo
re him, movement caught McCoy’s attention and pulled him back into the moment. He peered between the rows of people to see Barbara, Tonia’s cousin, walking forward, clad in the same burgundy dress that Joanna wore. When she reached Leonard, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then stepped back to stand opposite.
As Uhura and the harpist finished their song and began another, the guests rose from their seats. McCoy gazed past them to see that Tonia had emerged from behind the copse at the edge of the clearing. She carried a bouquet of red roses and wore an elegant, flowing white off-the-shoulder gown with a ring of silk rosettes set strikingly in her red hair. She made a beautiful bride.
As Tonia walked forward, McCoy could not believe how fortunate he had been to find her—not once, not twice, but three times. For her to have understood that they truly belonged together, for her to have weathered his misbegotten rejections and still permit him back into her life, for her to allow herself to be vulnerable in order to find and support their love…yes, he was indeed a fortunate man.
Tonia arrived beside him, and though they hadn’t planned to, they reached for each other. He took her free hand in one of his. He glanced down for a moment to the bouquet in her other hand and unexpectedly saw the face of a small, white stuffed bear peeking out from amid the flowers. Teabag! he thought, the sight taking him back instantly to those days he’d spent with Tonia more than thirty years ago on that magical planet in the Omicron Delta region. He looked back up and saw her smiling at him. As they listened to the strains of the love song Uhura sang, they stared into each other’s eyes. McCoy knew that he had never been so happy.
When the soft notes of the harp and Uhura’s voice faded into the gentle sounds of their outdoor setting, McCoy and Tonia looked to their sides, to where Hikaru stood. “Good afternoon,” the captain said. After asking the guests to sit, he began the ceremony. “On behalf of Tonia and Leonard, thank you all for being here to share with them this celebration of their love. Their hearts have never been more full, and they are so pleased that each of you are here to rejoice with them as they pledge their passion and devotion to each other for all their lives.” McCoy and Tonia had together written both their own vows and the words that Hikaru now spoke. “Assembled here today, we will witness not the beginning of a new relationship, but the continuation of a love already sown, already in bloom. For years now, Tonia and Leonard have known in their minds, have felt in their souls, that they belong together. Now, in this ceremony, they declare to the universe their commitment to each other, as those of us gathered here recognize the worth and beauty of their love, and add our best wishes to these words that shall unite this wonderful couple in the happiness and wonders of matrimony.”
Crucible: McCoy Page 70
