by Radclyffe
“I promise.”
“Swag.” Margie started the engine and dropped the hammer on the old truck. It jolted forward, and they shot down the driveway.
Glenn laughed. “Harper sees you drive like that, she’ll kick your ass.”
Margie shot her a look. “Yeah, maybe. But then again,” she laughed wildly, her hair blowing like strands of red fire around her face, “maybe not. I might be able to take her.”
“Yeah, right.” Grinning, Glenn leaned back and closed her eyes, indulging herself in memories of Mari. Dangerous, yeah, but sometimes the pleasure was worth the risk.
Chapter Twenty-six
“I thought you were off at five,” Abby said when she noticed Mari in the ER lounge.
“I was. Am.” Mari set aside the month-old copy of the Annals of Internal Medicine she’d been scanning in the never-ending, never-victorious battle to keep up with her professional reading. “I’m just waiting on a couple of X-rays on the biker in seven. I figured I might as well finish that out since there’s four new patients waiting on the board to be seen.” She probably would have stayed anyhow, even if she hadn’t been right in the middle of an interesting case. She liked finishing her own cases, even if it meant staying an hour or two after her shift was over. But she had another reason for lingering tonight. Glenn was off shift but hadn’t left either, and Mari was hoping to accidently bump into her before they both left for the weekend. She hadn’t exchanged more than a word or two with Glenn all week, and she was hoping to catch her. She really didn’t want to spend another weekend like the last one.
“I don’t mind picking it up,” Abby said, “if you have plans.”
Oh, she did. She hoped. “That’s okay, I’ve got it.”
Abby smiled. “In that case, I’m going to grab some dinner while you and Glenn are both still here.”
At the mention of Glenn’s name, Mari felt her face heat and hoped Abby didn’t notice. They’d all been busy the entire week with interviews for the new residency program that was set to gear up in just a few weeks. In between supervising students, meeting with applicants, and taking care of patients, she and Glenn had barely had time to do anything other than review cases. Glenn had seemed her normal self—calm, steady, and focused. Mari doubted she seemed as cool and collected. Every time she saw Glenn her pulse shot through the stratosphere and she seemed to have trouble finding the right words. After they’d parted on Saturday, she’d spent the rest of the weekend trying to keep busy and finding her concentration was completely shot.
No matter what she was doing, she ended up thinking about Glenn. And that almost always led to thoughts of sex. How was she to have imagined something so natural, and so easy, could cause just about every cell in her body to ignite and her brain to malfunction? She understood the biology, even the psychology, of desire, but nothing she’d ever learned came close to the reality. And the worst part was, as amazing as those few hours had been and as exciting the aftermath, she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do about it. She knew what she should do, and apparently Glenn agreed. Glenn hadn’t given any sign she wanted to repeat their encounter, just as Mari had stipulated. Yep. She had what she’d asked for, and she wasn’t the least bit happy about it.
“Got the X-rays back,” Antonelli said. “Nasty spiral fracture of the femur—midshaft.”
Grateful for the interruption, Mari jumped up and followed him out into the hall. She didn’t see Glenn with a quick look around. “Put them up on the board, let’s take a look.”
The fracture was simple enough to diagnose—the thigh bone in the mid portion was splintered with a long crack running diagonally and the two opposing, spear-shaped fragments overriding each other. The surrounding soft tissues were misshapen and swollen with blood just as she’d expected from the exam, along with the noticeable shortening of the upper leg. “What does that look like to you?”
“Looks like a trip to the OR to me.” Antonelli spoke with his usual confidence but after a quick glance at Mari’s expressionless face, hastily added, “Spiral fractures tend to be unstable, and in a weight-bearing bone, the potential for limb shortening and gait problems is significant. Open reduction is indicated.”
Mari smiled to herself. He was learning to make the transition from battlefield snap decisions to the kind of assessment appropriate in civilian care. She nodded. “Timing?”
“Considering it’s almost seven on a Friday night, if we don’t get it done now, chances are the ortho boys will want to wait until Monday or Tuesday, when the swelling is down and they can get it on the schedule electively.”
“Pros and cons to that?”
Antonelli frowned. He might be shifting his evaluations to the demands of community medicine, but he was probably always going to be a battlefield medic at the core. And he’d learned at the front that the more rapid and aggressive the treatment, the greater the number of soldiers they saved, with the smallest number of complications. Battlefield statistics supported that approach. He would never recommend postponing care. All the same, Mari wanted a medically sound reason for early intervention under the present circumstances.
“Right now, the soft tissue swelling is minimal. The longer they wait to operate, the more swelling there will be and the more difficult the dissection down to the bone. Plus, the patient’s going to be damn uncomfortable if she has to wait for four days until surgery. She’s an otherwise healthy, active fifty-year-old and she’s gonna want to get on the road to rehab as quickly as possible. If they operate tonight, she’ll be in PT by Monday morning. If it was my wife or sister, I’d want surgery tonight. So I say we call and push them to come in and rod it.”
Mari nodded. “I agree.”
From behind them, Glenn said quietly, “So do I.” When Mari swung around with a questioning look, Glenn shrugged. “I happened to notice the films down in X-ray when they were shooting them. Nice work-up, Antonelli.”
“Uh, thanks.” Antonelli shot Mari a look, as if asking if he really deserved all the credit.
Smiling, Mari shook her head, pleased by Glenn’s assessment. Glenn had praised Antonelli, and rightly so, but Glenn knew what Mari’d been trying to teach him, just like Glenn always seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling. Glenn’s professional opinion of her was nearly as important as her personal feelings, but those she could read far less easily. Did Glenn think about their intimate time together as often as she did? Did she lie awake, restless at night, her body humming with the memory of desire? Was she finding it as difficult as Mari to pretend she didn’t want it again?
Mari wished she knew how to ask, or that Glenn really could read her mind.
Antonelli spoke into the silence. “Zapata is on call. I’ll give him a ring. He’s a pretty decent guy and will probably come in with a little prodding.”
“Tell him you’ve already called the OR, per me,” Glenn said, “and that if he’s not available, we’ll get Flann Rivers to do it. That will light a fire under his butt.”
Antonelli chuckled and strode away.
“I thought Flann was off tonight,” Mari said.
“She is. Harper too. A few of us—OR crew mostly—are taking Harper out for a little prenuptial celebration.”
Mari laughed. “You’re kidding. Like a bachelor party?”
“Well, sort of.” Glenn looked sheepish, highly unlike her. “Just tradition, you know.”
Mari didn’t, but enjoyed teasing Glenn. Enjoyed a conversation that had nothing to do with death, dying, or pain. “Will there be dancing girls?”
Glenn hesitated, brows drawn down as if thinking. “Dammit. I knew there was something I forgot to do. I don’t suppose you and Carrie are free?”
“Oh,” Mari said, rolling her eyes, “I never took you for such a big dreamer.”
Glenn’s eyes darkened. “No, neither did I. But you know, nothing ever stays the same.”
Mari swallowed. “I know. Change is scary, though.”
Glenn ran her hand down Mari’s a
rm and cradled her fingers in her palm. Her thumb swept over the top of Mari’s hand, as swift and light as a kiss.
Mari’s lips instantly tingled as if she had been kissed.
“Not knowing can be scary, I understand that,” Glenn murmured.
“I know you do.” Mari wet her lips, searching and failing to find the words she wanted, but needing to keep the fragile connection alive, if just for another minute. “I was actually going to ask you out to dinner, but I see that you’ve already got much more exciting plans.”
“Hardly more exciting, but I’m designated driver and I can’t back out on them this time.”
“Rain check?” Mari’s heart actually thudded in her ears. She hadn’t thought that possible.
Glenn glanced down the hall, checking they were still alone. Dinner, maybe more. Was that what she wanted? All she wanted? She’d recalled the hours with Mari every night when she tried to sleep, the second she opened her eyes every morning, and every time she saw her in the ER. She’d thought a lot about what Margie Rivers had said to her in the truck too, about strength being the other side of fear. Mari was strong, she had to be to survive what she’d survived, to endure the separation from her family, to face an uncertain future. Glenn respected her for that. She understood the fear that kept Mari from hope too. She understood that war of duty and sacrifice, and she loved her for all of it. In the quiet of the long hours alone, she came to understand herself too. She loved Mari and, for the first time in her life, wasn’t afraid of what that meant. “I learned something this week.”
“What?” Mari whispered.
“Remember I told you I learned to live in the now in the war?”
Mari nodded.
“I didn’t just learn it there. I learned it growing up, when I figured out I had nobody on my side but myself. That making it through one day was a victory, and not looking ahead, not counting on anyone or anything, was the only way to avoid disappointment.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mari murmured.
“That’s okay, it got me through and made me tough. Made me who I am. And I did count on a few people. I counted on my unit, I counted on Flann and Harp and the rest of the Riverses.” Glenn blew out a breath. More than she’d realized. “But you taught me something more.”
Mari’s heart beat in her throat so fast, so full, she wasn’t sure she could speak. “Me? What did I teach you?”
“You taught me that every day, lived to the fullest, is just one link in the chain of forever. That it’s safe to go to sleep and believe in the sunrise. You made me believe that when I open my eyes, everything that matters to me will still be there. I want that to be you, Mari. And I want you to believe that I’ll be there for you.”
“I…I don’t know if I can. Believe.” Mari grabbed Glenn’s hand. “But you make me wish I could.”
Glenn nodded. “I know that too. But you know what? I’m patient, and I’ll wait.”
“That’s not fair. To you, I mean.”
Glenn smiled, a rakish smile that carried no hint of sadness. “No one ever said life was fair, but it is what we make it. What we choose. I choose you, Mari.”
Before Mari could answer, Glenn leaned forward and kissed her, just as she did everything—filled with certainty and strength. Mari gripped her scrub shirt, leaned into her.
Antonelli cleared his throat. “Zapata tried to give me the runaround until I suggested Flann could handle things just as easily as him. He’ll be here in half an hour.”
Glenn took her time stepping back, glanced over her shoulder at Antonelli. “You’re learning.”
Antonelli looked between Mari and Glenn and flashed his lady-killer smile. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”
“Well,” Glenn said, her gaze on Mari. “I’d best head out. Don’t want them to have too much fun without me.”
“You’ll want to see to the dancing girls as well,” Mari said teasingly.
“Oh yes. I won’t forget that.” Glenn took a step, looked back. “Call me, anytime.”
Mari watched her walk away, her heart full and her soul in turmoil. Could she let her go? Did she dare try to keep her?
*
Glenn pulled out of the parking lot just as the sun dropped below the crest of the mountains, painting the road in intersecting patterns of light and shadow. Walking away from Mari was about the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d wanted to press her for an answer, for some sign that Mari felt what she felt, and knew she couldn’t. Mari needed to come to her of her own free will, in her own time, and all she could do was hope that time would one day come. If it didn’t, well, she wasn’t going to think about that. The need that clawed at her belly was like a hunger, an aching void she couldn’t fill. Living with that need would be torture, had been torture, every day. The only thing that helped was catching a glimpse of Mari, spying that fleeting smile, the lingering look that said Mari was searching for her too in the midst of a busy day. Every time she did, she knew she was right to wait, to hope, saw the road ahead as clearly as she’d ever seen anything in her life. She wanted this woman, this one woman, and whatever it took, as long as it took, she’d do—
The IED exploded right under the belly of her vehicle. The blast deafening, the detonation blinding. She braced automatically, her transport airborne, spinning, tumbling, end over end. She landed with a bone-jarring thud in a scream of metal and shattering glass, her head striking steel, pain lancing down her spine. Through a wash of blood obscuring her vision, she fumbled for her safety harness, finally found the clasp, and once released, tumbled to the ground. The scent of fuel penetrated the copper scent of blood.
No, not ground, still inside, had to get out.
Couldn’t burn. Wouldn’t die in flames.
She crawled, wiping blood from her eyes, peering around for the rest of her unit. Couldn’t find her med kit. Up ahead a Humvee on its side, trailing a glistening line of fuel on the road. Pushed to her feet, staggering, dizzy. Found the door, braced her leg against crumpled metal, felt the edge slice through her BDUs, into her thigh. Ignoring the searing pain, she pulled, strained, finally popped the door. Single occupant, unconscious, strapped in. Couldn’t find her KA-BAR to cut the straps. Worked him free and dragged him up clear, had to stop to vomit, kneeling in the road, the trooper slung over one shoulder. RPGs lit the sky. She staggered for cover, fell again, threw her body over the trooper.
“Medic, medic,” she whispered before the dark took her.
*
While Mari waited for Dr. Zapata, the young orthopedist on call, to come in from the suburbs a half an hour or so away, she checked over the pre-op numbers, made sure Antonelli got a consent signed, and explained to the patient and her spouse what they could expect for the rest of the evening.
“Dr. Zapata will go over the surgery in detail,” she said in response to their anxious questions, “but from the experience I’ve had with fractures like this—”
The curtain enclosing the cubicle rattled back with a loud clang, and she glanced over her shoulder, annoyed at being interrupted. Antonelli filled the space between the tiny cubicle and the hall. His face was white.
“We need you out here.”
Mari smiled at the woman with the fractured femur and her worried spouse. “The surgeon will answer the rest of your questions. I’ll be back as soon as I can to check on you.” She stepped aside and closed the curtain. “What’s going on?”
“We just got a STAT call from the sheriff. MVA, two victims en route, both unresponsive.”
“Did you page Abby?”
“Yes.” Antonelli blocked her path as she started toward the trauma bay.
Annoyed, Mari stopped short, already mentally cataloging what needed to be done. “Who’s on for surgery tonight?”
“That asshole Williams. Mari—”
Mari sighed. “I wonder if we could get Flann and Glenn back here from their—”
“Mari, it’s Glenn.”
“What? You already got her?” Mari looked down the hall, exp
ecting to see Glenn stride around the corner with her battle-ready expression, directing everyone to their stations.
“No, no. Listen. The sheriff’s local. He recognized her. One of the victims is Glenn.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Icy fingers squeezed Mari’s throat. Time froze. The sound of her thundering heart drowned out all thought, leaving only primal fear.
“Where is she?”
Mari skirted around Antonelli, shouldered him aside when he tried again to stop her, and raced toward the admitting area. Antonelli, with his longer legs, caught her easily and grasped her arm.
“Don’t.” Mari jerked free, her voice a whip crack in the unnatural silence. Where was everyone? In receiving, waiting for the injured. Waiting for Glenn. No, that couldn’t be. She couldn’t even bring that picture into focus. The vision made no sense, and yet, beneath the denial, a terrible truth tried to bubble free. Nothing lasts—not life, not love, not dreams. “No. No, that it isn’t true. I will not accept that.”
“Mari,” Antonelli said, dropping his hand and keeping pace. “You don’t want to do this. Abby’s on her way down right now. We’ll take care of Glenn.”
Mari stared straight ahead. A crowd of hospital personnel and security guards formed a corridor from the double doors of the emergency room toward the treatment area, ready to escort the victims.
No. Glenn was not a victim, she was everything that a victim wasn’t—a warrior, a leader, a healer. Mari ran outside past the blur of faces, barely slowing enough to clear the half-opened glass doors as they slid back, into the bright glare of the floodlights illuminating the emergency zone in the lot outside receiving. The area was empty save for an emergency van and two parked police cars. The sky was ridiculously clear, moonlit and star-studded. Mockingly beautiful. She scanned the hillside below and the winding road down to the village she’d walked that first night with Glenn.
Antonelli followed her out, stood silent vigil with her.
