“Oh, I had completely forgotten about him.”
A sudden sadness washed across Vicky’s face, and Aidan could have kicked herself for bringing that vile memory of Vicky’s rape into their honeymoon sanctuary. She quickly sought to bury it again and replace it with more positive thoughts, “Remember, kid, you said you’d take care of decorating it and everything.”
Vicky chortled, “I’ve already got it decorated, in my head.”
“Let me guess, you’re converting some of the patient rooms at the hospital into a home for us?” Aidan joked, poking her in the ribs.
“No, but what a fabulous idea!”
“No you don’t,” Aidan shook her head, “you need a separate life away from work, and besides, I’m not comfortable having sex anywhere in that hospital except for your office.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but it was still a fabulous idea. No, when we’re ready we’ll get a realtor to find us the perfect house. We need at least three bedrooms, with a large kitchen and a backyard for our children to play in.”
“Whoa, now. Remember, I don’t make as much money as you do, so keep it within my budget, okay?”
But Vicky had already thought of that, “Aidan, I appreciate that you’re a proud woman, it’s one of the things I love most about you. But have you considered that there are other ways you can help, to pay for expenses?”
“What do you mean, like services render, or something like that?”
“No, honey, our lovemaking is not for sale. No, I’m talking about fixing up a house. We could buy a house that needed fixing up, cutting our cost almost in half by doing it ourselves. We could start looking right away, because you would have to make it livable before we could move in. What do you think of that idea?”
“Yeah! I’d be very willing to do that. When I was a runaway, one of my favorite temp jobs was construction. I know enough to swing the hammer, install cabinets and refinish furniture.”
“I’m relieved to hear that, because I suddenly had a flashed back to our tree house. The thought of living in a rickety old house like that was about to give me a reason to change my mind.” Vicky laughed at the memory.
Aidan pulled her in closer and patted her butt. “Okay, kid. You find the house of your dreams and I’ll make it sturdy and strong for you. Then you can make it a home for us.”
Aidan smiled from deep inside her heart at the thought of their future together. Granted she didn’t bring in as much money as Vicky, but using her hands to remodel the house, satisfied her sense of balance between them, and even helped with the need to provide for her wife. Building a house together, raising children together, it was the stuff dreams were made of, and all her dreams were coming true.
Chapter Thirteen
Joyce heard clapping as she entered the room. “What the hell?” She said out loud.
The Chief of Cardiac Services walked up to her and took her gloved hand in his, “Joyce, it’s Rick. You’re looking pretty good today.”
“Yeah, sure. Put a cowboy hat on me and I can play the good and bad guy at the same time.” She quipped, still trying to figure out what was going on. She held onto Ellen’s hand tighter than usual, needing that connection.
“Ellen thought it would do you some good to be back in the OR.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Joyce’s first thought was to leave, and Ellen could sense that, so she squeezed her arm to reassure her.
“Joyce, it’s Marci. Come stand beside me and I’ll give you the color commentary.”
Joyce smiled, though with the two masks on, no one could tell it. Ellen put her hand on Marci’s arm to stop her, and said to Joyce, “Honey, I’m going to wait outside. You, um, you know how squeamish I get.”
“Kiss me first,” Joyce said, jutting her jaw out. The two kissed, mask to mask, and then Marci escorted Joyce to a corner where they wouldn’t be in the way. Joyce listened as the surgery began. She felt the slap in her hand when the surgeon asked for a scalpel. She inhaled deeply when the saw cut through the bone. She let out a satisfied sigh when she heard the heart beating outside its cavity.
As her comrade, Dr. Tom Burns, finished cutting the sternum and handed the saw to his nurse, he engaged her in conversation. “I’m sorry you can’t assist me today, Joyce,” he said, “but you know how it is, malpractice and all.”
“I understand,” she half-heartedly replied.
“It’s just as well,” Tom said, “you would put me to shame in front of the babies and I can’t have that in my own OR, now can I?”
Joyce chuckled at his referral to the interns being babies. She remembered when she was a first year resident, and how much like a baby, she felt. She knew he was being kind, because she thought he was the best surgeon in the country, and even emulated some of his techniques when she could. And as was confirmed today, he was really a nice man. Some surgeons she knew, thought they were God, and would never allow a blind woman to enter their OR. Especially when they knew she could cut circles around them with her eyes closed.
“So tell me, what’s it like being temporarily blind?” Tom asked, as he worked on the heart.
Like Joyce, this surgeon was blunt and to the point, and she appreciated that. Even Ellen, who was listening with her back turned from the surgery, in the observation room, appreciated his question.
“About like you’d expect. It fucking sucks.” Joyce heard the laughter from the others and was pleased with their reaction. “I will say that I can hear a lot better than I could before. For instances, I can hear a soft heart sound, this patient obviously has some major blockage going on.”
“You peeked at the EKG, didn’t you?” The surgeon joked.
“You’re not jealous, are you, Tom?” Joyce bantered back.
“Yeah, just a little maybe,” he said, more truthfully than he meant to be.
The surgeon and Joyce continued talking about the patient’s case, and Joyce visualized what he was doing as they talked. She imagined herself over the patient, seeing the heart lifeless at first, because she had to stop the heart to put it on bypass, and then beating again, when she released it. Marci smiled as Joyce’s hands moved almost in sync with the surgeon’s, and she marveled at how this blind woman instinctively knew what to do with each step. Even blindfolded, Marci believed, Joyce could do surgery better than anyone else.
Finally, a few hours later, the surgery was over and the patient was moved to recovery. But as Marci removed the scrub mask from Joyce, the surgeon asked her if she would say something to the interns.
Joyce balked at the idea at first, but with Marci and Tom’s encouragement, she thought why not, it might be a good learning experience for the interns. So she adjusted her eye mask, and then asked Marci to face her in the right direction.
Joyce jovially began her speech, “The Blind Surgeon, by Dr. Joyce McMillan, Cardiovascular Surgeon.” The interns laughed and Ellen smiled proudly. “I don’t know if I’m permanently blind or not, but I do know that I can see better now, than probably seventy‒five percent of you up there. I can see with my ears, my nose, hell, even my taste buds. If you only use your eyes to see the problem, you’re limiting yourself and your diagnosis. School taught you that you must listen to the patient, but that’s not just limited to a stethoscope. Thanks to this experience, I will be more cognizant of the sound and smell of the heart, as well as the sight of it. Did you know that this patient’s heart blockage has a distinct smell? Well, it does. And now I will give extra attention to that smell the next time I cut into someone. So, word to the wise, a good surgeon uses every weapon in their arsenal, including seeing, hearing, touching, tasting and smelling. A good surgeon knows she isn’t God, but a good surgeon knows to use her God given talents to save her patient.” Joyce was finished so she turned toward Marci, but then she turned back to the interns, “Oh, uh, the end.” The interns laughed and she could hear them clapping. That felt good, she thought. Maybe if this blindness thing is long term, I could teach instead.
Chapter Fourt
een
Aidan woke that morning to the lilting sounds of her wife’s voice, singing an aria from her favorite opera. Vicky was enjoying a bubble bath in the large bathtub, in the marble bathroom of the four star hotel that Aidan’s aunt put them up in. She smiled as Vicky hit the crescendo. Beautiful! She jumped out of bed and joined her wife in the bubble bath, easing in behind her. She took the sponge from her and began washing her back.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah. Can we take that bed back with us on the plane?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice? I have to admit, I could get use to this real easy.”
“You know, not to change the subject, but I’m kinda nervous about giving that speech today. I’ve never given a speech before, what if I screw it up? What if my speech is so bad that Ireland breaks off relations with the US?”
“Honey, that’s just your nerves talking. You’ll do fine. You’ve written a good speech. Just follow it and speak from your heart. They will love you.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“You always do, my darling.”
Smiling, Aidan brushed Vicky’s wet hair aside and nipped at the back of her neck, “Okay, your beautiful back is done, lean back so I can get at your breasts, uh, I mean wash your front.”
Vicky laughed and laid back against Aidan, who wrapped her long arms around her and began washing her soapy chest. Slowly, methodically, Aidan washed her, until her breasts glistened, her nipples hardened, and her lover groaned with pleasure.
“Um, dear, as nice as that feels, and oh, that does feel so nice, there’s more to me than just my breasts, you know?’
“Yeah, baby, I know. I was saving the best for last.”
The two women spent a leisurely morning in their hotel room, ordering room service and relaxing, before the big speech. But their time was interrupted by a call from Senator O’Malley’s assistant, practically demanding that they arrive an hour early to discuss a matter of utmost importance.
“Ladies, I asked to meet with you this morning, before the luncheon, because I just received the dossier my own people conducted on you both, and I have some questions,” Peg said impassively, as she showed them the report in her hands.
Vicky and Aidan looked at each other with confusion, wondering what would cause her such concern that she practically abducted them from their hotel room.
“Please, ask whatever you need to, Aidan and I have nothing to hide.” Vicky assured her.
Vicky and Aidan sat in Senator O’Malley’s office, across from O’Malley and her assistant, Brigh.
“All right, I’ll get right to the point. Vicky, there is some concern about a man named,” the Senator looked down at her file, “Harold Cassidy.”
Aidan instantly got defensive, “What the hell does my father have to do with anything?”
Peg and Brigh exchanged looks, then Peg asked, “He was your father? President Trenton left that part out of his file.”
“He is the man who supposedly adopted me. Apparently I don’t have a father.”
“And your mother?” Brigh asked.
“We told you, Brigid died giving birth to Aidan.”
“What was her maiden name?” Peg asked, as if she were back in the courtroom.
Aidan lowered her head, “I have no idea.”
“Please, what is all this about?” Vicky felt like she was being accused of something and she didn’t appreciate it.
“He was stalking you, is that correct, Vicky?”
Aidan answered for her in an annoyed voice, “Yes, the man was a crazy bastard and wouldn’t leave her alone. What are you accusing my wife of, Senator?” It didn’t matter who this person was anymore, not when it involved her wife.
“Please, I don’t mean to upset you, Aidan, or you either, Vicky. You must look at it from my perspective. You’re here on a mission to find a terrorist, and now we find out that Vicky was being stalked by one. The implications are, shall we say, confused.”
“My wife was raped by that bastard, there’s nothing confusing about that!”
Both Peg and Brigh let out a loud gasp as they looked at each other. Their look shocked Vicky.
Watching them closely, Vicky thought she recognized the pain in Brigh’s eyes, eyes that were welling up with tears. She put her warm hand on Aidan’s arm to calm her, and then began to tell them the story, but Aidan cut her off.
“You don’t have to tell them a damn thing, Vicky. I don’t care if she is my aunt or the senator or the pope himself, you don’t owe her a thing!”
“It’s all right, Aidan, she doesn’t have to‒‒”
“I want to tell them,” Vicky said angrily, to quiet everyone down. “So that they understand that Harold does not define who we are.” Then she began to tell her story, from childhood to Harold’s arrest and upcoming trial. Aidan sat back and listened as Vicky told them everything. The abuse that Aidan had suffered at that man’s hand as a child, the rape that Vicky suffered when she was only thirteen, and the eventual stalking and kidnapping of her parents, all by Harold Cassidy. She concluded with the fact that he tried to bribe Aidan with her real father’s name. As she talked, she watched the two women carefully. Brigh’s face told her that everything she suspected was true. The woman had suffered some of the same kind of abuse in her life.
“Aidan, mo neacht, please, forgive me. I had no way of knowing,” Peg said apologetically. “I had to be sure my constituents were safe. You understand, don’t you?”
But this hurt Aidan even more, so she lashed out at her aunt, “I understand now, that politics is apparently thicker than blood.”
Her words cut deep, and Peg feared their fledgling friendship might be irrevocably damaged. She gave Brigh a questioning look, but Brigh shook her head.
“Listen, I have to report in, so are we done here?” Aidan asked pointedly, as she stood up.
“Yes. Um, will I see you at the luncheon then?”
“I’m representing my country. I’ll be there,” she replied tersely, and taking Vicky’s hand, they walked out of the Senator’s office.
Watching the door close behind her niece, Peg turned to Brigh and said, “Oh cac! I think we went too far.”
Vicky squeezed Aidan’s hand as they walked down the hallway, and she asked, “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“There could be nothing worse in the universe than to lose you, but this comes in a close second,” Aidan dejectedly stated.
The hallway started to get crowded, so Vicky grabbed Aidan’s arm and led her outside, “Come with me, we need to talk.” The cool fresh air was calming and the two lovers bought a cup of coffee at the street vendor, and then found a secluded place to sit and talk.
“Honey, I want you to understand something. What you experienced this morning is called being part of a family. Families squabble, they say hurtful things, and then they forgive each other and forget it. I didn’t speak to my mother for weeks when I found out she had intercepted the letters that you sent me when we were kids. It took a long time to get over the anger and forgive her, but honey, I have forgiven her because it doesn’t matter, she’s family. You’ll see, this will barely be a memory, as soon as you and Aunt Peg can have a normal conversation without the pressures of the mission and politics getting in the way.”
“I know you’re right, kid, it just kinda hurt, you know?”
“I know, but like she said, see it from her perspective. She’s only known about you for a couple of days and she has to be as protective of her people as you are of me.”
Aidan looked at her and realized she was right. She had immediately become defensive and blind to any kind of understanding. Vicky took over the situation and calmed everyone’s suspicions and anger. It was times like these that Aidan wished she could be more like her wife.
*
Aidan, dressed in a crisp royal blue, long-sleeve shirt, open at the collar, with black chinos and boots, sat nervously at the dais. Her medals hung perfectly around her ne
ck, but her knee bounced from nervous tension. She was sitting beside her aunt at the head table in a large conference room at the Dublin Castle. Polite though she was to her aunt, she did not engage her in conversation.
Vicky, who set at a table close to the dais, could tell her lover was nervous, even without being able to see her knee bouncing furiously behind the table cloth. Last night, before Aidan released her excitement in a stimulating round of intense lovemaking, the two sat down and wrote her speech. She admitted to Vicky how terrified she was at the thought of getting up in front of an audience full of people she didn’t know. Vicky advised her to forget about them, and just look at her. Just talk to her as if she was the only person in the room. She knew Aidan was very good at compartmentalizing, so much so, that it should be enough for her to give her speech from her heart.
Peg walked to the podium and the audience quieted. “I’d like to welcome the hero from America, Ms. Aidan Cassidy.” Peg spoke of the two medals around Aidan’s neck, and how she was the only person, male or female, who had ever received them both. “She has quite a story to share with us so please, welcome my niece, Aidan Cassidy.” Peg stepped back, applauding, as Aidan walked to the podium.
She cleared her throat and immediately looked at Vicky for strength. When she saw that loving smile, she unfolded the notes that Vicky had helped her prepare, and began.
“You’ll have to forgive me for my notes, I didn’t know I’d be making a speech until late last night.” The audience laughed as Aidan concentrated her focus only on Vicky’s face. “First off, I’m very pleased to be here, representing my country. But don’t let me misrepresent myself. I’m no hero. The real heroes, of any country, are the ones who didn’t come back from the war.” Aidan stopped when the audience’s applause interrupted her. As it died down, she looked at Vicky again and continued. “I want to talk about the power of the fairer sex. I was wounded in Iraq when the armored vehicle I was riding in, which was escorting two supply trucks, was hit by an improvised explosive device. Once our vehicle was disabled, the insurgents began firing everything they had at us. I was shot in the shoulder and suffered amnesia for a year, but that was nothing compared to the others who were wounded or killed. War is no longer a man’s burden. Women are out there, fighting for their country, more so than ever before. One in six U.S. Army soldiers are women, and we’re on the front line, risking our lives alongside the men, and we are just as scared as they are. But like the men, we have a job to do, and we do it to the best of our ability. And just like the men, we are wounded in combat and we die on the battlefield.”
Remember, It's Our Honeymoon Page 13
