by Radclyffe
As the women worked through the drills, Drew moved up and down the room, correcting stances on the newer students, offering advice to the intermediates. When she reached Sean and Gail, she stood quietly to one side—arms folded, legs spread—her black-belted, black canvas uniform accentuating her lean, sinewy body. Neither of the two students looked at her, both of them sweating as they punched, blocked, counterpunched, and kicked.
Gail, she noted, was performing adequately but without much initiative. Her techniques were only average in difficulty, executed without intensity, and with an attitude just barely beyond bored. Sean, as she had anticipated after watching her test the night before and observing the focus that she brought even to her routine warm-ups, was in a different league altogether. She improvised new combinations that were apparently her own originals, and her technique was crisp and controlled.
Drew was impressed anew with Sean’s quiet determination and dedicated effort. She set an excellent example for the other women. Many students never realized that that attribute was as important for the advancement to black belt as technical skills. As a black belt, each of them would be a symbol for others and a representative of her school. Clearly, Sean understood that.
“Let me see something that befits your rank, Gail. Sean, put out a high section punch to the face.”
“Yes, ma’am,” both women replied in unison.
Sean punched upward with her right hand, then held her arm and fist at face height half an inch from Gail’s jaw. The object was for Gail to institute a defensive combination, stopping just short of physical contact while still employing power. The blue belt countered crisply with a high forearm block, then swiftly spun in a full circle to finish with a high hooking kick.
Watching closely, Drew saw Gail’s misstep the second it happened. The junior student lost her balance slightly as she kicked, and her involuntary adjustment propelled her sweeping leg too close to Sean’s head. Even as Drew lunged to put her own body between the two women, she knew it was too late.
Sean had no time to block, and the rapidly accelerating foot caught her full in the face. With a muted groan, she crumpled, blood spurting from her nose, arms slightly outstretched as she fell hard onto her back.
“Oh, fuck,” Gail cried into the sudden stillness of the room. “Oh, jeez—I’m sorry.”
Heart pounding, Drew knelt beside the injured student. Sean’s eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving. Her skin was chalk-white except for the rivulets of red that streamed over the angles of her jaw and down her neck.
For a second, Drew’s vision blurred, and when she blinked, an all too familiar image came into sharp, brutal focus. Bruised, battered, bloody. Dark sightless eyes, staring in accusation and disbelief. The breath constricted in her chest, and, stomach churning, Drew struggled to orient herself in the midst of a wild rush of terror. It’s not happening. It can’t be happening. No, please...
Moaning, Sean opened her eyes. Through a haze, she could see Drew’s face only inches away. Her instructor’s eyes were filled with horror—their blue depths glazed, uncharacteristically unguarded—a sea of pain washing through them. The hand that reached for Sean was trembling uncontrollably. What ever it is, it can’t be me. I don’t feel all that bad.
“God, no...” Drew gasped, her voice rife with anguish.
Sean took a deep steadying breath, as much for the other woman’s benefit as her own, and said as calmly as she could, “Master Clark—I’m okay. I’m okay.”
The sound of Sean’s voice repeating the words slowly penetrated the veil of Drew’s desolation, and she shook her head to clear the confusion. Abruptly, she realized where she was—and what had just happened. Ignoring the lingering nausea, she regained control swiftly as her training reasserted itself.
“Lie still, Sean. Don’t try to move yet.” Placing a restraining hand lightly on Sean’s chest, Drew looked back over her shoulder at Gail, who stood frozen in place, a stricken expression on her stunned face. “Gail, soak a towel with cold water and bring it to me.”
“I didn’t...mean...” Gail began to sway as if she, too, might fall.
“Go on, Gail. Do it,” Drew snapped, the harsh note in her voice bringing a flush to Gail’s face and some clarity to her eyes. As the younger student pushed through the worried women crowding around and rushed toward the sink in the small adjoining bathroom, Drew looked down at Sean. She slipped her fingers into the palm of Sean’s left hand. “Squeeze my fingers...harder. Good. Now the other hand.” She nodded in relief as Sean complied. “Excellent. Now move both legs.”
“Can I sit up?” Sean asked after she had demonstrated that all her extremities were working. “The blood dripping down my throat is driving me crazy.”
“In a minute,” Drew murmured, gratified to see that Sean’s color was returning and her voice sounded strong and steady. The blood streaming from her nose had started to slow. “Okay, tell me who you are.”
“Sean Gray.” Before Drew could ask her anything else, she added quickly, “I’m at the Golden Tiger Kwan, and Gail just decked me.”
Drew closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, it was only Sean’s face that she saw. Her pulse finally settled below heart attack level, and her breathing began to ease. The paralyzing panic was gone. Laughing a little shakily, she replied, “Very good. Can you see me clearly?”
“Yes.” Sean didn’t add that Drew looked as pale as she felt. “Yes, I can see you perfectly.”
“No blurriness, no double vision?”
“No. Everything is fine.” Sean laughed faintly. “Well, as long as you don’t count my nose, that is. I don’t think I was unconscious, just stunned.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time.” Drew pressed the cool towel against Sean’s face and slid one arm under her shoulders. “Sit up very slowly—lean against me.”
“I’ll get blood on you,” Sean protested.
Shaking her head, Drew pressed Sean closer. “No matter—it’ll wash. Ready to try standing?”
“Yes, Master Clark.” Sean slipped her arm around Drew’s waist, registering somewhere in her consciousness the tight firm muscles beneath her hand. “Whenever you say.”
“Here we go,” Drew murmured, rising easily and drawing Sean with her, holding her tightly in the protective curve of her own body. “Okay? No dizziness?”
Sean’s head throbbed, and she was less steady than she had anticipated. For a second, she rested her cheek against Drew’s chest, waiting for the distant swell of nausea to subside. She could feel the other woman’s heart beating rapidly beneath her face. Finally, she lifted her head and smiled weakly. “It hurts, but it doesn’t feel like anything major has been damaged.”
With an enormous sigh of relief, Drew lessened her tight grip but did not completely break contact. She was still too worried that Sean might have more than just a traumatized nose. “Gail, dismiss the class. I’m driving Sean to the hospital.”
“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” Sean protested, her remonstrations giving strength to her voice. “All I need is to sit down for a few minutes, keep an ice pack on my face tonight, and I’ll be fine.”
“You’re probably right,” Drew conceded in a surprisingly mild tone as she loosened her belt and removed her black gi jacket. “But we’re going to make sure. I have Master Cho’s Jeep. I’ll drive.”
There was nothing Sean could do to dissuade her, and fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in the emergency room at Chestnut Hill Hospital, waiting her turn along with a half-dozen other people. Fortunately, it was a weeknight and not particularly crowded.
“How does it feel?” Drew asked.
“Awful. How does it look?”
Drew pulled the towel away a few inches and scrutinized Sean’s face carefully. “It’s swollen, but straight as far as I can tell. With any luck, it won’t require surgery.”
“I hope not.” Sean sighed. “I don’t want to miss class.”
Drew shook her head, marveling at S
ean’s composure. She had seen marines in training complain more over sore muscles than this woman did after a significant blow.
“Master Cho is going to flay me alive for letting this happen,” Drew said dryly.
Sean started in surprise, lowering the towel to stare into the concerned face of the woman next to her. “Why? It’s not your fault.”
“Oh, but it is,” Drew disagreed gently. “Everything that happens in that room is my responsibility. I pushed Gail too hard, and she tried something she wasn’t ready for.” Wearily, she rubbed her eyes. The remnants of the waking nightmare still danced on the edges of her consciousness. “If I’d been paying a little more attention or moved just a little faster, I could have intercepted that kick before it reached you.”
Sean contemplated the words in silence. After four years of training and participating in a dozen regional competitions, she was very familiar with the code of ethics practiced by her teachers, and how seriously they took their responsibilities. This, however, seemed extreme. She had a feeling that Master Drew Clark was used to assuming responsibility, perhaps even when it wasn’t warranted.
“With all due respect, ma’am, accidents happen. I’ve hit a few people harder than I had intended a few times.” Looking pointedly at the small scab on Drew’s lower lip where her fist had struck the night before, Sean added, “You included.”
Drew nodded, not fully accepting the rationalization but appreciating Sean’s efforts to assuage her guilt. “Thanks.”
Her tone suggested to Sean that she wasn’t buying Sean’s attempt to relieve her of responsibility. “Look, if—”
“They’re calling your name,” Drew interrupted. “Do you want me to come back with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me.”
“I’ll wait to drive you home.”
“No, that’s okay—I can call my sister.”
“I’ll wait, Sean,” Drew said with finality.
*
A little over an hour later, Drew pulled around the circular drive in front of Sean’s large stone house and parked. “Is there...someone here to stay with you?”
“My sister should be home.” Sean hesitated and then asked tentatively, “Will you come in for a moment? Have something to drink?”
Drew started to refuse and then realized she wanted to be certain that Sean was really all right. The doctor had confirmed that her nose was cracked, but the bones were not displaced and would heal without surgery. Still, she’d taken a nasty blow to her head, and if there was no one at home at the moment, Drew would feel better staying with her for a little while longer.
“Okay, for a minute.” She cut the engine and hurried around the front of the SUV, reaching the door as Sean pushed it open.
“Can you make it?” Drew asked, slipping her hand under Sean’s elbow.
“Yes.” Sean laughed, touched by Drew’s attentions. “Thanks.”
As Sean pushed the front door open, an anxious voice called from the rear of the house, “Is that you, Sean?”
Susan appeared at the far end of the hall before her sister could answer. And, after one look at Sean, she stopped in her tracks. “Oh my God. What happened?”
“It’s noth—”
“Ellen! Ellen, come here. Sean is hurt.” Susan finally made her legs work and rushed up to Sean. Grasping her sister’s hands, she repeated urgently, “What happened? Oh God. Sean, how bad as it?”
“Suse, honey, relax.” Sean pulled Susan into her arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m absolutely fine. I just got hit in the nose.”
“Looks like you got hit in the nose with an ax,” a lanky, short-haired redhead drawled as she sauntered down the hall. She stopped behind Susan and put an arm around her lover’s shoulder. “You’re a mess, Sean. How about a beer?”
Sean grinned weakly at Ellen’s usual aplomb and nodded. “First, let me introduce my teacher.” She turned to Drew, who still stood in the doorway. “My sister, Susan—her lover, Ellen; Master Drew Clark.”
“Just Drew,” Drew said as she shook each woman’s hand in turn. She noticed that Sean’s amazingly identical twin was staring daggers at her.
“Are you the one who did this to her?” Susan demanded, taking a step in Drew’s direction, her hands fisted at her sides.
“Well, it was my fault—”
“Terrific. It’s not enough that she trains until she drops, now this. Isn’t it supposed to be your job to keep this from happening?”
Drew did not retreat from the other woman’s attack but stood quietly while Susan raged at her from a few inches away. “You’re right, it is. I—”
“Oh, stop,” Sean said in exasperation, “both of you. My face got in the way of someone’s foot, and that’s all there is to it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
Drew’s expression didn’t change, but she was momentarily surprised by Sean’s authoritative tone. Then she realized that there were probably many sides to Sean that she wouldn’t see in the dojang.
Ordinarily, during the few hours a week that the students and teachers spent together, their roles were limited and rigidly defined. In Drew’s case, the situation had been even more restrictive because most of her experience had been in the military. She rarely, if ever, socialized with the recruits or anyone else she was responsible for training. It was a matter of principle.
Now, however, she found herself in the home of one of her students after only the barest of acquaintances. Yet being here with Sean didn’t seem at all odd. This evening had proven to be exceptional in more ways than one. Aware of the ire still simmering in Sean’s sister’s eyes, though, she thought that it was time for the evening to end.
Turning to Sean, Drew said quietly, “Perhaps I’d better leave—if you’re sure you’re all right.”
“Nonsense,” Ellen interjected, smoothing her fingers along Susan’s arm as she spoke. “Stay for a while—have something to drink. Then maybe Susan will be convinced you’re not a maniac.”
“Thanks.” Drew smiled, enjoying Ellen’s dry humor. It seemed a perfect foil for her lover’s excitability. Perhaps a few more minutes would be acceptable. “That would be great.”
“Let me get out of this,” Sean said, indicating her bloodied uniform.
“We’ll grab some drinks and snacks from the kitchen and meet you on the terrace,” Ellen replied, taking her lover’s hand while ignoring her faint frown.
*
By the time Sean returned in blue jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, it was almost midnight. The hot, heavy summer air had just begun to cool, and she found the three women stretched out on chaise lounges with their drinks. She was gratified to see that Susan was seated between Drew and Ellen, and that there didn’t appear to be any blood on the flagstones. Apparently, her sister had cooled off a little. She crossed the patio and handed Drew a short-sleeved denim work shirt.
“I thought you might need this. Your T-shirt is probably still soaked,” she said, feeling unaccountably shy as she pulled another chair over next to Drew’s.
Drew was still wearing her cotton uniform pants and the sweat-stained shirt she had worked out in. It was still a little damp and none too comfortable. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll change—”
“The bathroom is inside and to your right.”
Ellen looked over at Sean, after Drew had disappeared inside, and commented, “That is one gorgeous woman. She’s got eyes to drown in and a body that doesn’t quit. How come you never mentioned her?”
“She’s my teacher, Ellen.” Sean laughed a little self-consciously. “She’s only been here a few days. I hardly know her.”
“Is she gay?”
Ellen, as Sean very well knew, was relentless about details. The redhead loved her job as a therapist because she loved the particulars of people’s lives, and it was that intense interest in all things personal that made her such a good psychotherapist. Even more importantly, in addition to curiosity, she had boundless compassion.
“I don’t know,” Sean sa
id with just a hint of asperity. Being questioned about Drew’s personal life made her more uncomfortable than it should have. She knew Ellen was just being Ellen, but she felt protective of Drew, perhaps because she sensed what a deeply private woman she was. “Does it matter?”
“Ah, no—but such a loss if she isn’t.”
“Pig,” Susan exclaimed good-naturedly, slapping Ellen on the arm. “She’s quiet, but she seems...okay.”
“Yes,” Sean murmured, thinking that quiet was not a term she would have used to describe the intense blond. She had sensed so many things beneath the surface of Drew’s silence...and realized that she was wondering about them.
Drew rejoined them at that moment, the shirt tucked into her uniform pants. It was a little small for her and accentuated the breadth of her well-developed shoulders and muscular arms. She sank into the chair and reached for her beer on the small table nearby.
“What a beautiful night,” she sighed, leaning her head back and watching wisps of clouds, backlit by moonlight, streak across the black sky. The others murmured their assent, and as they sat together in companionable silence, she lost herself in the stars overhead. At the sound of Sean’s voice, she jumped, startled.
“Are you going to be teaching regularly from now on?”
“Yes, I had planned to,” Drew replied, amazed that she had almost drifted to the point of forgetting where she was. That kind of utter relaxation and respite was foreign to her. Why it had happened here, with these women, she could not fathom. Shaking her head, she thought back to Sean’s accident earlier that evening. Ruefully, she added, “After tonight, though, I may need to rethink that.”
Impulsively, Sean placed her left hand on Drew’s forearm, turning on her side in the chaise lounge to lean near. “You don’t still feel as if what happened tonight was your fault?”
“How do you feel?” Drew asked softly, avoiding the question. Her attention was focused on the light pressure of the fingers against her skin, and she struggled not to jerk away. The touch was unexpected, the contact foreign—a thing of memory. “Is…uh…everything okay?”
