by Radclyffe
Reese met her mothers gaze evenly, her voice steady. "I didnt come here for an explanation."
Kate twisted the gold band on her ring finger, the one that matched Jeans, and said sadly, "I tried to tell myself that you would be well cared for, and loved"
"And I was," Reese said. "But it was time for me to see you - long past time."
Kate searched her daughters face in alarm. "Are you all right, are you sick, or--?"
"No, Im fine," Reese smiled, taking her mothers hand.
"So youre here to stay?"
"Yes," Reese said, feeling the rightness of her words. "I am."
Jean set a large tureen of chowder in the center of the table, saying firmly, "I have a feeling its going to be a long night."
And they began to talk.
Chapter Three
It was close to midnight when Reese left them. It had taken that long to sketch in the outline of the last twenty years of her life. They hadnt touched on deeply personal things; neither of them had been ready for that. But it was a beginning, and it felt right. She was too excited to sleep, so she decided to drive.
She turned off Commercial Street, following the meandering turn of narrow streets to the clinic. It wasnt exactly on her way home, but nothing in the two by three-mile town was out of the way. She frowned when she saw the Jeep Cherokee still parked in the lot. The clinic was dark. Reese left her truck on the shoulder of the highway and circled through the scrub and sand to the rear of the clinic. When she gently tried the handle, the rear door swung open. Gun in hand, she made her way slowly down the hall, carefully opening each door she passed.
Rounding a corner into the shadowy reception area, she sensed movement to her right. Swinging her outstretched arms in that direction, gun double-fisted, she shouted, "Police!"
Her movement deflected the already descending blow, but pain seared along her forearm where she was struck. She propelled herself forward, catching her forehead against the edge of a metal file cabinet as she dove. She came up into a crouch, poised to fire on the shape backlit in the moonlight when a voice called out, "Sheriff, no! Its Tory King!"
The lights came on and Reese found herself face-to-face with the doctor, whose cane was still raised for a second sweeping strike.
"Stand down, Doctor," Reese muttered, wiping her face with one hand. Her hand came away bloody, and she swayed, suddenly dizzy.
"Sit down, Sheriff," Tory commanded, moving forward quickly. She grasped Reese around the waist, directing her into a chair. "Youre injured."
"I need to secure this place," Reese protested, shaking her head, trying to clear her vision. "The back door was unlocked."
"Never mind that. Sally is always forgetting to lock it." Tory scrutinized Reeses face carefully.
"Youre going to need stitches."
"I need to call for backup"
"Whyam I under arrest? I didnt know it was you until you spoke. I heard a noise in the hall"
"Terrific," Reese grimaced, doubly embarrassed. "First I announce my presence, then I let you take me out. Maybe you should be wearing the badge!"
Tory smiled grimly. "This cane is nearly as deadly as that gun of yours, at least at close range. Im thankful I didnt break your arm." She looked at Reese with mounting concern. "I didnt, did I?"
Kneeling with some difficulty in front of Reese, she grasped Reeses right hand in hers. "Squeeze my fingers," she said.
"Cant," Reese mumbled, battling a sudden wave of nausea.
"I must have hit the median nerve," she noted clinically. "It may be a couple of hours before you can flex your fingers, but nothing seems broken."
She continued to probe along Reeses forearm, aware of the well-developed muscles under her fingers. "Youre lucky youre in such good shapeyour muscle mass protected you. Still, well need to watch for compression injuries. Youre going to get a lot of swelling." She rocked back and studied Reeses face, brushing a lock of hair off Reeses forehead. The sheriff was pale, but her gaze was clear. "Youve got a laceration through your eyebrow. We need to go back to the procedure room so I can take care of it. Can you walk?"
Reese nodded, holstering her gun as she carefully pushed herself to a standing position. She extended her left hand to assist Tory to her feet.
"I cant tell you how sorry I am, Sheriff," Tory began as they moved to the rear of the clinic.
"It was a lesson well learned, Doctor," Reese said grimly. "Having a gun sometimes make you overconfident. A well-trained martial artist is a real threat in close quarters. Thats what you are, isnt it?"
"Sit here," Tory indicated, motioning to the operating table in the center of the room. She was silent as she opened gloves and a suture tray. "Are you allergic to any drugs?"
"No."
"Lie back. I just need to clean this up a bit." As she set about her work, she continued, "Hapkido. Do you know it?"
"Some - Im trained in jujitsu," Reese replied, wincing slightly at the sting of the novocaine injection. "Hapkido. Thats Korean, isnt it?"
"Uh huh," Tory responded as she began placing the sutures. "Its a combination of Aikido and Tae Kwon Do. Fortunately for me, it also teaches the art of the cane."
"Well, its certainly effective," Reese said flatly. "Youll have to show me sometime."
"If you like. There, thats it. Ill need to take these stitches out in five days." She pulled the stool over and sat down facing Reese. "What are you doing here?"
"I happened to be driving by and I saw your Jeep. The place was dark. I was worried. Youre not supposed to be here alone, remember?"
Tory sighed, "I know. We ran so late I sent everyone home an hour ago. I had literally just finished and was heading out the door when I heard you. I am so sorry"
"Please," Reese said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Thankfully her head felt clear. "Im glad to know you can take care of yourself so well. Lets just leave it at that, okay?"
Tory stood, reaching for an alcohol swab. When she cupped Reeses chin in one hand, Reese tensed.
"Youve got blood on your neck," Tory said quietly, wiping the skin gently.
"Thank you," Reese murmured, her eyes meeting Torys deep hazel ones. She was acutely aware of the warmth in Torys touch.
Tory stepped back quickly, averting her gaze as she quickly broke their contact. The withdrawal was so abrupt, Reese shivered involuntarily. Tory frowned. "You need to be in bed. Come on, Ill drive you home."
"Im okay," Reese muttered, jumping down from the table. She swayed with a sudden wave of dizziness, and would have fallen if Tory hadnt slipped her arm quickly around her waist.
"Not quite, youre not. You may be strong, but youre not made of steel. Youve had a nasty blow to your head and with that arm, youre not fit to drive. I mean it."
"I cant leave my truck on the road," Reese protested.
"Ill drive it. Come on."
**********
"Go get into bed," Tory said when Reese led them into the living room of her new home. "Ill get some ice for your arm - kitchen through there?" she indicated with a nod of her head.
"Yes, but I can get it"
Tory rounded on Reese, her eyes flashing. "Look Sheriff, you can save the butch routine for the bad guys. I know you can get it. The point is that I want you to lie down, so Im going to get it."
Reese stared at her, an uncomprehending look on her face. "Im not trying to be butch! Im just used to doing things for myself."
Torys features softened, and a smile curved her full lips. "Yes, Ill bet you are. But tonight you dont have to. Now go onplease."
Tory found her a few minutes later awkwardly trying to hang her gun belt and uniform in the closet. Her right arm was still uncoordinated and visibly swollen. She had managed to pull on a faded cotton T-shirt, USMC stenciled over her left chest. Her legs were bare below the hem of the shirt. Tory tried not to stare at the expanse of smooth skin and tightly muscled limbs, finally deciding she couldnt avoid looking at her unless she suddenly went blind. Taking the hanger from Reeses
fumbling grasp, she said firmly, "Bed."
Tory folded the trousers carefully and hung them up in the precisely ordered closet. Shirts and pants were neatly segregateddress clothes to the left, casual clothes to the right. She stared thoughtfully at the crisp Judo gis and the carefully folded hakamas on the top shelf. The mysterious sheriff was more than a casual martial artist.
Turning, Tory found Reese propped up in bed, her hands folded on the sheets that covered her to the waist. She was watching Tory carefully, her face inscrutable. Tory stared back at her, thinking that this woman spoke volumes with her silence.
"What?" Tory asked softly.
"I was watching you study my closet with such interest. Are you always so observant?"
"Occupational hazard. Being a doctor is a little like being a detectiveyou have to learn not to overlook the subtle details. How about you? Always so neat, ordered, and controlled?"
Reese laughed. "Yes. Fifteen years of the Marine Corp will do that for you. Although it might be hereditary. My father is career military."
"And your mother is an organizational systems manager?" Tory joked.
Reese grew suddenly still, her expression thoughtful. "No, my mother is an artist. Im afraid I didnt inherit anything from her."
Tory saw the subject was clearly off limits and once again a vast distance settled between them. "Here," she said, approaching the bed with the plastic bag of ice in her hand, "hold out your arm." She wrapped a towel loosely around Reeses forearm, then applied the ice pack, securing it with another towel. "Keep this on as long as you can. If you have more pain during the night or the numbness worsens, call me. Its unlikely youll have a problem, but I dont want to take any chances."
"Whats your phone number?" Reese asked politely. She had no intention of taking up any more of this womans time. The whole ridiculous situation was her fault to begin with. No one had ever taken her by surprise like that before.
"Just yell - Ill be on your couch."
Reese shot straight up in bed. "You are not staying here!"
"My Jeep is at the clinic, and Im tired, and Im starting to get cranky. I intend to go to sleep - immediately. Dont worry, you wont even know Im here."
"Thats not the point!" Reese exclaimed. "Youve already done too much for me!"
Tory raised an eyebrow. "And just how would you define "too much", Sheriff? Is any help at all too much? Just tell me where the sheets areIm beat."
Reese pointed to a military footlocker pushed under the windows. "Beddings in there, Doctor. Military issue Im afraid. Ive only been a civilian a short time, and shopping has not been high on my list of priorities."
"Itll do for a night. Thanks," Tory said as she headed for the door. "Now lights out, please."
"Yes, maam," Reese sighed, realizing she had been out maneuvered in more ways than one that evening.
**********
At five a.m. in May, sunrise was still a long way off. Reese stood in the dim light reflected from the kitchen, looking down at Tory King. She slept on her side, her arms wrapped around the pillow. Her tousled hair framed a face soft and youthful in sleep. Her clothes were tossed over a nearby chair, her leg brace and cane leaning within arms reach. Reese was captivated by how peaceful she appeared. Before Reese could move away, Tory rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, moving from sleep to full wakefulness almost instantaneously. She saw the curiosity in Reeses face before all expression fled.
"What?" Tory asked. "Is there something strange about the way I sleep?"
Reese contemplated her for a moment, aware that she was naked under the light covering. The curve of hip and the slight swell of breasts were outlined in light and shadow. Reese knew she was staring, and forced her eyes to Torys face.
"You dont just sleep - you seem to embrace it, as if it were nourishing you." Her voice trailed off. She had no words to express how beautiful the woman had been. "I didnt mean to disturb you," she finished awkwardly.
Tory sat up, holding the sheet to her chest with one arm. With the other she brushed her hair back from her face. "I think I felt you in my sleep, but it didnt disturb me." She looked at Reese uncertainly. She knew Reese hadnt touched her, but her skin tingled with the sense of a lingering caress. Abruptly she swung her legs to the floor. This was getting ridiculous. Too much turmoil in the last twenty-four hours had her imagining things.
"I need to be up anyhow," Tory said more sharply than she intended.
"Right. Ill let you get dressed," Reese said, turning away, nonplussed by the abrupt change. "Coffee?" She asked as she retreated quickly to the kitchen.
"Please," Tory called after her. She joined Reese in the kitchen a few moments later, looking around her in surprise. The room, newly renovated, was modern and equipped with professional appliances. "What a great kitchen! You must cook!"
Reese grinned, ducking her head shyly. "A secret vice." She handed Tory a steaming cup of freshly ground French Roast.
"However did that happen? Werent you forced to eat in the mess hall or something?"
Reese laughed, warming Tory with the rich timber of her voice. Tory relaxed, leaning against the large center cook-island that dominated the space. She sipped her coffee as she examined Reese in the bright morning light. She was in uniform again, the creases in her sleeves and trousers razor sharp, her tie knotted square under a crisp collar. The surface of her shoes sparkled with a flawless shine. She seemed flawless, too. Her black hair was trimmed precisely around her ears, and above her collar. The full front fell rather dashingly over clear blue eyes, a straight nose, and full strong chin. She was handsome and beautiful at the same time, and warning bells began clashing in Torys brain. Women this good-looking generally knew it, and that always spelled trouble. The years had not quite erased the pain left behind by someone nearly as heartstopping as this. She forced herself to concentrate on what Reese was saying, reminding herself she would never make that mistake again.
"I lived mostly off base. Learning to cook gave me something to do, since Ive always lived alone."
"Always?" Tory asked. It was hard to believe that a woman with her appeal wasnt attached.
"Yes, always," Reese replied quietly.
Once again Tory sensed a door closing as a distant look settled in Reeses eyes.
"How is your arm?" Tory asked, retreating to neutral ground.
"Stiff, but the sensation has returned."
"Can you handle your weapon?"
Reese looked surprised. "I think so."
Tory shook her head. "You have to be able to or you cant work. Seriously, Sheriff"
Reese held up a hand. "Please, call me Reese. You cant keep calling me Sheriff in my own kitchen."
Tory laughed. "And Im Tory. Now, draw your weapon."
Reese studied her for a second, recognizing the solemn set to her features. She reached behind her with her right hand to set the coffee cup on the counter. In the next instant, she had pivoted away from Tory, her revolver in both hands, crouched in a shooting stance. The tailored uniform stretched taut against coiled muscles, the gun unwavering.
Torys caught her breath, surprised by Reese's speed and grace. "You pass," Tory said lightly, aware that her throat was dry and her pulse racing. She had to admit the combination of physical beauty and controlled power was a compelling image.
Reese straightened, holstering her revolver. She smiled faintly and saluted Tory casually. "Thank you, maam."
Reese wasnt sure why Tory was staring at her so curiously, but she liked the way she laughed. For some reason, the laughter made her happy.
Chapter Four
After returning Tory to the clinic, Reese circled through town to the station house. Nelson was at his desk, frowning over yet another voluminous report he had to complete.
"Jesus, Conlonwhat happened to you?" Nelson asked when he saw the bruise on his deputys face and the fresh stitches on her forehead.
Reese shook her head ruefully, tossing her hat on her desk. "If I told you the truth, youd fire me."
"Try me," he ordered. He was laughing by the time she finished the story. "I told you the doc could look after herself! Just be glad shes only got one good leg, or she really might have hurt you!"
They stared at one another as he grimaced in disgust. "Oh hell, I didnt mean that. Its a damn tragedy, and here I am joking." He shook his head in discomfort.
"What do you mean?" Reese asked quietly.
"I guess its not a secret - as if anyone in this town has secrets. She was a rower. Did you know that?"
"I know she rows," Reese remarked, recalling the photographs in Tory Kings office.
"She did row. She rowed for the Canadian Olympic team. She was their big hope for a gold medal in the 88 Olympics. Another rower hit her scull in a trial heat just before the games. Cut her boat in half and nearly took her leg off with it. She never rowed again."
Reese turned away, her chest tight. "Is this stuff last nights dregs again?" she said gruffly, snatching the coffeepot from the burner.
Nelson gaped at her in surprise. He was never going to understand this woman. She closed up faster than anyone he had ever known, men included. But he respected her moods, so he just grunted as he returned to the endless paperwork on his desk.
Reese focused on making coffee, forcing the painful image of Tory lying injured in a shattered boat from her mind. Unexpectedly, she flashed on the way Tory had looked asleep that morning, remembering the still beauty of her form beneath the light covering. The image was inexplicably calming. Reese took a deep breath, her emotions under control once again, and turned back to the Chief.
"Im going to start my tour."
"Sure. Hey, grab me some donuts, will you?"
Instead of turning right into town, Reese went the opposite direction to Route 6 and Herring Cove. The fishermen and women were out in numbers, casting in the offshore depths for the plentiful sea bass. Reese parked at the waters edge, searching the horizon. Sunlight shimmered on the cold blue-grey morning water, two forces of nature meeting. There, off to the right, cutting swiftly and surely toward Race Point, was the red kayak. The tension in her chest eased as Reese watched Tory fly across the surface, unfettered and free. Calm once again, she wheeled out of the lot to start her day.
