Homestead

by Radclyffe

  The girl Tess had been so very long ago.

  “You got that card, dear?”

  “Yes,” Tess said hoarsely, holding out the insurance card, “right here.”

  The woman took the card from Tess’s trembling hand and said sympathetically, “Don’t worry, honey. The ER team here is the best.”

  “Yes. Thanks.” Tess smiled fleetingly and tucked the memory back into the past where it belonged.

  *

  At three a.m. on a Saturday morning, the waiting room was deserted except for a distraught young mother sitting across from Tess with a screaming toddler in her arms, waiting anxiously for someone to take them back to the treatment area. They’d been there since Tess finished with the clerk, forty-five minutes ago.

  “Earache,” the young mother said, glancing apologetically over at Tess as she rocked the inconsolable child.

  “It’s awful when they’re so miserable, isn’t it,” Tess said, “and there’s nothing you can do?”

  Something like relief appeared in the mother’s eyes. “It makes me feel so helpless.”

  Tess had always thought animals and babies had a lot in common—so helpless, so unable to make their needs known. “Well, they’ll take care of her soon. I bet she’ll feel better by morning.”

  “I hope so.” The mother patted the baby’s back and stared at Tess for a moment. “Um, I hope everything’s okay with…your friend.”

  “Thanks. Me too,” Tess said softly.

  A few minutes later, a nurse appeared and mercifully took mother and baby away. Tess checked her watch. Almost four. She’d have to call the farm, let Tomas know she wouldn’t be there for the morning milking. She’d been waiting an hour—what were they doing with Clay that was taking so long, and why was she so upset? Farm accidents were all too common, and she’d tended to her share of friends, family, and farmhands who had suffered broken bones and lacerations and—thankfully, rarely—crushed limbs or parts thereof without losing her composure. But the sight of Clay bloody and disoriented had shaken her more than she’d imagined possible. As every minute ticked by, the anxious roiling in her stomach grew. What if Clay had one of those delayed internal brain hemorrhages you read about, the kind that kill people unexpectedly an hour or two after their accident? Clay had to have some kind of concussion—she hadn’t known where she was at first. Tess’s heart twisted.

  Clay had thought they were at the lake. Why would Clay even think of that now? So long ago for both of them. All right, so Tess hadn’t forgotten, at least not completely. Weeks and months would go by when she wouldn’t think of it—or Clay—and then she’d hear some snippet of music on one of the rock stations and she’d be back in the boathouse, seventeen again, watching Clay lean over the pool table, showing off as she beat some of the local boys at eight ball. Or the sun would glint off the windshield of a passing motorcycle, and the black-garbed rider hunched over the roaring engine would be Clay, turning into the twisting drive of the resort late on a Saturday afternoon to pick Tess up after she was done cleaning to take her spinning around the lake, the wind blowing in her face, her arms wrapped tightly around Clay’s middle. Or sometimes, right before she fell asleep, a warm breeze would pass over her face and she’d remember the brush of Clay’s mouth on her skin.

  Shuddering, Tess stood and peered around the corner toward the treatment area. All of the cubicles were closed, their curtains drawn. Only three charts sat in the rack on the wall, and she heard the baby sobbing from somewhere down the hall. A hand appeared from inside the center cubicle and pushed the curtain back. A woman in blue jeans and a colorful smock decorated with action heroes stepped out and strode briskly down the hall.

  “Are you with Roberta Sutter?”

  “Clay? Yes. Can I—”

  “You can go on back. She’ll be ready to leave as soon as her scans are cleared.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Tess hurried to the cubicle.

  Clay sat on the side of the stretcher, her arms braced on either side of her hips. They’d taken away her shirt, and she wore a white hospital gown open in the back over her work pants. Her boots sat on the floor beside the stretcher. Steri-Strips covered the three-inch gash on her forehead, the center of each thin white strip dotted with a circle of dried blood.

  “Did you get stitches?” Tess stopped a few feet in front of Clay as the curtain swung closed behind her.

  “Yes.” Clay grimaced. “Twenty-three, the tech was pleased to tell me.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Of course you are.” Tess sighed. “And now, how do you feel?”

  Clay laughed softly. “My head feels like someone’s using it for a snare drum. Whatever they gave me for pain isn’t helping, but it’s making me sick to my stomach. And I really want to get out of here.”

  “I think they’re just waiting to check your X-rays.” Tess frowned. “Where are you staying?”

  “The Rice Mansion.”

  “Well, I don’t think they’re going to want you to stay alone tonight.” Tess flushed. “Although I guess Ella—”

  “Ella’s room is across the hall from mine,” Clay said carefully. “I’m sure she can peek in on me if it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Oh,” Tess said, feeling foolishly relieved. “Well, I imagine it will be. She’ll probably be here soon.”

  “I’m really sorry about this, Tess.”

  “Why? None of it’s your fault.”

  “Well, I guess that’s open to question. Someone obviously has taken a dislike to me.”

  A chill rippled down the back of Tess’s neck. “What are you talking about?”

  Clay swore inwardly. She wasn’t thinking clearly, or she never would have mentioned anything about the accident. “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t,” Tess said sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I won’t. I’m not,” Clay said. “But I really don’t know anything.”

  “But you suspect something?”

  “I don’t know, Tess.” Clay wished the jackhammer behind her eyes would ease off for just a second so she could collect herself. She didn’t want to pull Tess into her problems, but she’d just said she wouldn’t lie to her. “I saw a vehicle behind me, a truck I think. I thought they were following me. Maybe they weren’t. But I’m pretty certain they sped up when I stepped into the street.”

  Tess’s face went white. “My God.”

  “Hey,” Clay said. “It’s okay. Don’t worry—”

  “I’m sorry? Don’t worry? Someone might have tried to kill you and it’s okay?” Tess’s eyes flashed. “Is there something wrong with you? Don’t you care what happens to you?”

  “Most of the time, Tess, I don’t think about much of anything except getting the job done.” Clay was so tired she didn’t even care she’d admitted something she never would have revealed to any other person at any other time. “That’s all I have.”

  “Okay, enough of this,” Tess said with odd gentleness. “When you’re better, we’ll talk.”

  “There’s nothing to—”

  The curtain slid back and a man with a five o’clock shadow in rumpled scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck said, “Well, you won’t be spending the night with us. You’ve got bruised ribs, no breaks. Even better, your CAT scan looks fine. No fractures, no evidence of brain swelling. That doesn’t mean you don’t have a concussion, but the shake, rattle, and roll doesn’t look too serious. You might have headaches on and off for a week or two, occasional blurriness of vision, or even a little nausea. As long as none of that persists for more than a few minutes, there’s no problem.” He held out a sheet of paper to Tess. “Here are the neuro-check instructions. You ought to check her every couple hours for the next ten or twelve and make sure none of the things on this list are a problem. If they are, bring her back.”

  “All right.” Tess took the paper a little uncertainly.

  The doctor turned to Clay. “If you’re not a hundred percent in a we
ek or two, follow up with a neurologist. You two drive carefully.”

  He was gone before Clay could thank him. She held out her hand to Tess. “I’ll take that.”

  Tess put the paper behind her back, a defiant expression crossing her face. “And what are you going to do with it? Do your own neuro checks?”

  “I was thinking I would give it to Ella.”

  “I’ll give it to her after you’re settled in bed.”

  “Damn it, Tess,” Clay said, trying not to snarl. “By the time we get back, it’s gonna be five in the morning and you need to be back at the farm. Don’t you think I know when you have to start your day?”

  “It won’t be the first time I’ve been up all night, Clay. I think I can handle it.”

  “All right.” Clay sighed. “I owe you.”

  Tess stared at her for a long moment. “No, Clay, you don’t.” She reached for Clay’s shirt and grimaced. “You can’t put this on. It’s bloody.”

  Clay grinned. “I’m not going home in a hospital johnny.”

  “Maybe I can find a scrub shirt.”

  “It’s just for an hour.” Clay carefully slid off the stretcher and held out her hand. “I’ll wear that.”

  “If you insist,” Tess said dubiously. “Turn around, I’ll untie you.”

  “I’ll do it.” Clay reached back and gasped. Her bruised rib cage screamed. “Okay. Maybe not.” She turned her back. “Go ahead.”

  “God, Clay.” Tess’s hands played over Clay’s back. “You’re all scraped up and there’s a huge welt on your side.”

  Clay braced a hand on the stretcher. The warmth of Tess’s fingers bored into her, loosening her muscles and tightening other, deeper places. “Looks worse than it is.”

  “I hope so,” Tess whispered.

  The smock fell away and the heat of Tess’s hands disappeared.

  “I’ll wait outside,” Tess said abruptly. She dropped Clay’s shirt on the stretcher and disappeared around the curtain, leaving Clay alone.

  Clay eased into her shirt, the pain a distant echo, buried by the pleasure of Tess’s touch. She knew it was foolish, but she let herself enjoy the lingering presence of Tess’s hands on her skin. There’d be time enough tomorrow for regret. There always was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The pastel-striped curtain swung closed, leaving Tess alone in the brightly lit hallway. She couldn’t quite get her breath. Clay’s battered back haunted her. Bruises—scrapes, that was all. They would all heal. Clay would be fine. A trickle of relief loosened the iron band around her chest.

  Breathe. She ought to be able to breathe now. She took a few steps, leaned against the cool plaster walls. The pounding in her head eased but the fire in her blood still raged. Her hands burned as if they were living beings, apart from her, unbound by reason. The merest touch of Clay’s skin had turned the key on wants and desires she had successfully locked away, until now. And now all she could see, all she could feel, was Clay.

  Once, Clay had been reed thin, all sinew and muscle, her hips as narrow as one of the boys, her ass almost too small to hold up the black jeans that had hung low on her hips, bunching over the tops of her heavy black motorcycle boots. Those muscles were still there, more than she remembered even, harder and more defined. Clay’s shoulders were wider, stronger-looking. But what had captured her, what enthralled her still, was the subtle arch of Clay’s lower back curving into the swell of her hips—hips that offered an invitation to caress she’d barely declined. Clay was a virtual stranger, a woman she did not know. And still she had wanted to explore those curves with the wild abandon that had propelled her into those reckless motorcycle rides over twisting, tantalizing country roads. She’d wanted to let go—of memory, sadness, rejection, and remorse. She’d wanted the unfettered freedom of an unfettered heart. She was losing her mind.

  Tess closed her eyes. Clay was a woman she barely knew, she was hurt, and she wasn’t her Clay any longer.

  “Hey,” a soft voice called, and Tess opened her eyes.

  No, Clay wasn’t hers.

  Ella was just coming down the hall, and Tess walked to meet her.

  “How is she?” Ella looked as cool as ever, but the icy blue of her eyes flared with intensity.

  “She’s pretty banged up, but they didn’t find anything serious. The doctor just cleared her to go.” Tess pointed to the center cubicle. The curtain was still closed. It took almost more energy than she had to resist going back to see if Clay needed help. It wasn’t her place to help her. Ella was here now. “She’s getting dressed.”

  “Good. I’ll go get her.” Ella grabbed a wheelchair from a row of them lined up along the wall. “The SUV is right outside. You look like you could use some air.”

  Tess smiled wanly. “That bad, huh?”

  “No, not really.” Ella laughed. “It’s been a long night and probably a tough one, considering the patient.”

  “She’s been pretty good, really,” Tess said. “But she needs to slow down for a day or two. The doctor said she’s probably going to have some aftereffects.”

  “Post-concussive symptoms,” Ella murmured. “Keeping her quiet is not going to be easy.”

  “I’m glad it’s your job instead of mine,” Tess said.

  “Really?” Ella asked gently.

  Tess felt her face burn. Somehow she knew Clay had not told Ella anything about their past relationship, but Ella was perceptive, and she’d been too distracted since the accident, worrying about Clay, to worry about what she might be revealing. She wondered how much was obvious. Not that there was very much to reveal. She and Clay had history, but it was a long, long time ago. She didn’t know this Clay any more than Clay knew her. They were connected, if they were connected at all, by memories, and memories were notoriously inaccurate. Tess met Ella’s softly questioning gaze directly and answered with total conviction. “Yes, really. You know Clay, I don’t. And I’m sure you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the best person to look after her.”

  “Well, I certainly haven’t done much of a job tonight.” Ella grimaced. “What happened is my responsibility. My fault.”

  Tess leaned her shoulder against the wall and studied Ella. “I wouldn’t bet the farm, but I’d bet a lot that you argued with her not to go wandering around so late, and you lost.”

  “Your wager would be safe, only the problem isn’t who won or lost, but that there was any discussion to begin with.” Ella shook her head. “I should know better than to get too close. Friendship impairs judgment.”

  Friendship. Ella hadn’t said a personal relationship. She’d said friendship. Of course, Ella was a professional, she wouldn’t reveal anything personal about Clay. If there was something personal. Tess shook her head. She was too tired to guess. And what did it matter? “I imagine it’s very difficult, spending so much time together, especially if Clay is…difficult, sometimes.”

  Ella smiled. “I know you two didn’t just meet, so I won’t bother to protect my boss’s reputation and argue that she takes well to being guarded all the time. But I like what I do, and I like doing it for Clay.”

  “I’m glad she has you,” Tess said, all the more confused because she meant it. “She’s probably ready by now. I’ll go get that air and meet you at the car.”

  “Thanks, Tess, for stepping in tonight. I needed you. So did Clay.”

  “I doubt that, but you’re welcome.” Tess hurried outside. Ella was right. She did need some air. And some distance. Everyone from the EMTs to the young mother in the waiting room to the ER staff had thought she and Clay were together, and at times she’d almost forgotten they weren’t. The realization that she could so easily slip into a fantasy world again was terrifying.

  The sun was up and Tess blinked, disoriented. The long night had seemed to drift between the present and the past effortlessly, as if the boundaries of time had dissolved and she was simultaneously in two places at once, the feelings she’d had long ago as fresh and vibrant as anything she knew in the pre
sent. Everyone seemed to think she and Clay were somehow involved, connected, and nothing could be further from the truth. Every once in a while she’d caught a glimpse of the wild, heart-stopping renegade Clay had been, in the curve of her mouth, the glint of her eyes, the low seductive tenor of her laugh. And when she had, her heart yearned.

  But this Clay, the woman who had appeared out of the haze late on a summer day, was closer to a potential enemy than a friend, and certainly no lover. And not even an old photo Clay had probably forgotten was even in her wallet could change that. Clay wasn’t here for her. Clay had come for what lay under the land, and if it hadn’t been for that, Clay would not be here. Tess would have gone on with the rest of her life knowing nothing of Clay. This woman who’d stepped out of the past into the present was not the girl she had known, the girl she had loved. Clay was as much a stranger to her as Ella, maybe even more so. Ella seemed to want to know her, seemed to see her as more than an obstacle to achieving a goal. Clay had come to take what was hers. That was not going to happen.

  The ER doors whisked open and Ella pushed Clay out in a wheelchair. A light sweat misted Clay’s forehead, and every bit of color had leached from her face. She was in pain, another thing Tess could do nothing to change. Sadness, heavy and dark, pulled at her, and she pushed back at the mental clouds by forcing her body to move. She hurried to the SUV parked behind an ambulance twenty yards away and opened the rear door just as Ella maneuvered the wheelchair alongside.

  Clay braced both hands on the arms of the chair and started to push herself up.

  “Wait.” Tess gripped her elbow. “Go slow. Changing position is probably going to make you dizzy.”

  Clay leaned against Tess as she got to her feet. She swayed. “Understatement.”

  Ella backed the chair away. “Do you have her?”

  “Yes.” Tess slid an arm around Clay’s waist. Clay didn’t argue for once, and that was almost as worrisome as the fine tremor coursing through Clay’s body. Tess tightened her hold. “Here, the seat is right behind you. Hold on to me and just ease down inside.”