by G. Benson
“I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you.”
“We won’t be doing nothing these next few days, Anna. I’ll be talking to your colleagues, your family—all to testify when the date’s set. Okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Anna hung up and stared dumbly at her phone. That had not been what she wanted to hear.
To get it over with, she called her mother and filled her in, holding the phone away as Sandra protested loudly, ranting for a good ten minutes before Anna got her off the phone.
She dropped her head heavily into her hands. How was she meant to just go on about her life like normal while Ella and Toby were in foster care?
One thing was for sure: she was not going to be able to sit around all day.
After calling her boss to fill him in, Anna left for work, parking her car far from her usual place. She froze as she got out of the car. Jesus, what if she saw Lane?
It turned out that when you’re trying to avoid someone and they’re trying to avoid you, it’s easy to not run into them. Anna threw herself into work that day.
Partway through the afternoon, she saw Lorna making her way to McDermott’s office. Involuntarily, Anna’s feet started walking towards her, before she forced herself to stop and walk away. No good would come from cornering the woman and losing her cool.
Later that morning, Anna’s stomach clenched when she turned automatically to walk down the hallway to the day care and remembered Toby wouldn’t be there, that she couldn’t walk in and watch him drop whatever he was doing and run at her, delighted she had entered his little world. The last time, she’d left with paint smeared all over her scrubs, bright red, from him wrapping himself around her legs. Feeling lost, Anna turned back the way she had come and headed for the cafeteria.
In the middle of the day, Kym found her with a coffee in hand. “I saw Lane.”
Anna didn’t even glance up from her desk. “Don’t, Kym. Just, not now.”
Kym had a lot to say; Anna could almost feel her urge to speak as she stood near the desk. Finally, she broke. “Anna, don’t you think that—”
“I’ve got to get to a surgery, Kym.” And she slipped out of her office, leaving Kym looking torn between pity and frustration.
That afternoon, Scott called and told her the trial would be set for Friday. She told him what Lorna had said about not being able to see the kids, and he sighed, saying the system had flaws, but all their policies were there for a reason. He reminded her that by playing by the rules, they built a better case in her favour.
She told him that seemed ridiculous, that her wanting to see them should be a good thing.
“Keep phoning them for answers and check-ups on the kids, but do what they say,” he told her. “Most of all, be patient.”
She hung up even more frustrated.
Anna worked until past midnight that night, stealing surgeries from the on-call anaesthetist, who happily handed them over and found a room in which to sleep. Kym eventually hunted Anna down in a hallway and handed her a vending machine sandwich to share.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “it wasn’t that long ago that Lane and Tess, and then you, were following me into work and making sure I ate.”
Anna swallowed an unsatisfactory mouthful of bland bread. “I’m okay, Kym. I just need the distraction.”
“I know.”
Anna filled Kym in on her conversations with Lorna and Scott, bitterness at the situation heavy on her tongue. Kym put her hand on Anna’s shoulder; there was nothing she could say.
They finished without any more talking, Anna barely tasting her food.
As if to say something, Kym turned to her and opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and stopped. In the end, she just said, “Make sure you get some sleep tonight, alright?”
Anna threw her an absentminded nod.
She left the hospital around one a.m., exhausted.
Anna woke up groggily on Tuesday morning, way before her alarm—despite the late hour she’d gone to bed.
The heaviness that had been weighing on her for days was even heavier this morning.
The kids’ absence was starting to take its toll.
As was Lane’s.
She got to work far too early, when nurses were just starting their morning rounds. Despite the early hour, she had already left a message for Lorna requesting an update on how the kids were and to ask if there was any news on the visit.
Anna paused in her work that morning only to take Lorna’s call, to hear the repetitive “the kids are okay” line. Though this time, Lorna added something else. “Ella…” she said. “Ella says she knows, because of the way your face looked when we drove away.”
The sob trapped in Anna’s throat almost spilled out over the phone.
Thankful that she didn’t have any consultations, Anna threw herself into surgeries instead. At four o’clock, she was just collecting notes for her final operation of the day when her boss appeared before her.
“Go home, Foster.”
She turned to him in surprise. “What? Why?”
The empathy on McDermott’s face was worse than if he had been stern. “You were here too late last night and you came in far too early. Go. Home.”
“Let me finish this one?”
“Foster—”
“I did his consult yesterday, I’m prepped. It’s my signature on the anaesthetic paperwork.” She paused. “Please?”
He hesitated a moment. “Last one?”
She tried not to look too triumphant. “Thank you.”
But she entered the surgery with a ball of dread sitting in her stomach. She didn’t want to go home, to the silence and to her thoughts.
She walked in to find the surgeons waiting in the scrub room, the nurses scrubbed in and sorting out the instruments. When she caught her anaesthetic nurse’s eye, Anna tried to give her a friendly smile. She was just getting into her normal rhythm when something made her look up and she saw Lane scrubbing in, staring straight at her. Lane’s eyes dropped back down to the sink. This was not the kind of work distraction Anna wanted.
The surgeons were gowned and gloved, and when Lane stepped in a second afterwards, the other nurses greeting her warmly. The surgeon, a man named Troy Fields whom Anna had never heard be overly friendly with anyone, greeted Lane like an old best friend.
“Lane! Are you my scrub nurse today?”
Lane nodded. “Yeah, I just got sent up. I heard you were one short.”
Troy was already moving over to the patient. “Ah, well, always good to have you.”
After the checks and safety procedures, the surgery was underway.
Lane wouldn’t look at her.
Anna was spending far too much time staring. Lane was obviously incredibly respected, and she seemed to have worked often with these two particular surgeons, reading their movements and handing them instruments before they could ask. She was at home in the theatre. All Anna could think was how she just wanted Lane to look at her.
The surgery went far too slowly and far too quickly, all at once. It was painful to be so close to Lane and to feel like they were completely separated, and, before she knew it, the patient was being wheeled out and it was over.
Anna sat on her stool as the nurses cleaned up around her, torn between trying to talk to Lane and needing to be far away from her. She couldn’t do this: there was no way Anna could pretend to be strong when Lane was so close that she could reach out and touch her. Pushing back suddenly, she stood and swept out of the room, washing her hands in record time before fleeing. She made it to the locker room, angry that she was being sent home and couldn’t stay and distract herself from this tight feeling in her chest. Slowly dragging out the time until she would have to le
ave, Anna pulled on her jeans and her boots. Her hands shook slightly. She paused at the mirror, running a brush through her hair. Her eyebrows raised in slight surprise at how pale she was, at the black smudges under her eyes. She turned to leave, pausing abruptly when she saw Lane standing awkwardly in the doorway, hand on the door, as if unsure whether or not to turn and flee.
Anna gave her a small smile. “Hey.”
Lane’s own confused “hey” was barely audible.
Anna turned back to her locker and swung the door shut, gnawing on her bottom lip and waiting. She didn’t turn around until she heard the door gently fall into place and knew Lane was gone.
She had known it would be hard to see Lane. Had known that doing what was right would be even more difficult when faced with the sight of her. In spite of herself, Anna had watched Lane more than she should have. Lane, though looking tired and a little pale, was still as stunning as always. And the look in Lane’s eyes made her chest ache. Anna hadn’t realised how overpowering the urge to fall against Lane would be. God, to break down and just let everything that was inside her out would be such a relief. Sighing, Anna grabbed her bag.
It seemed like the smell of Lane’s perfume still lingered.
Bag on her shoulder, she turned to leave, stopping when she saw that Lane was still standing a step from the door, watching her silently. Anna took in a deep breath and started to walk forward, shoulder brushing past Lane as she walked to the door. Fingers on the handle, she paused; she could feel Lane turn around behind her. That motion was all it took.
She turned around, pressing herself against Lane, hands coming up to cup her cheeks as she kissed her. Without a second of hesitation, Lane returned the kiss, pushing back against Anna with force that felt both bruising and comforting.
Anna’s thumb brushed Lane’s cheek, fingers running through the softness of Lane’s hair, lips hovering over Lane’s before leaning forward to press one soft, final kiss on her lips.
And then she turned and opened the door, walking away before she couldn’t.
“Where’s Lane?”
A light flicked on in the kitchen, and Anna blinked at the brightness.
Her mother stood eying her from the kitchen doorway.
Anna tried to surreptitiously slip the packet of cigarettes into her back pocket. She pulled closed the door that led to the back porch.
“I, uh—”Anna avoided her mother’s eye.
“You what, Anna Foster?”
“I broke up with her.”
There was a beat of silence that actually had Anna feeling afraid.
“You what?” Sandra’s voice was like ice.
Sighing, Anna looked anywhere but at her mother. “I broke up with her.”
“You what!” Her voice was now more like an angry storm.
“Mum, calm down.”
“I will not calm down! Anna Foster, you sit your ass down right now.”
Anna, eyes wide, sat at the kitchen table and looked up at her mother, feeling about five years old.
“You ended it with Lane?”
“Yes, but—”
“The first person to make you smile after Ja… after everything?”
“Yes, but—”
“The only distraction you had from the major sacrifices you were making?”
“Yes, but—”
“The woman the kids adore?”
“Yes, but—”
“The woman who’s been patient and who put up with all the crap that’s come with dating you?”
“Crap? But—”
“You’re letting that crazy old woman win!”
Anna went to open her mouth and then closed it. That hadn’t occurred to her.
Her mother crossed her arms in front of herself and glared at Anna, one eyebrow raised. Anna felt like she was looking into a mirror. As she pondered those words, she practically deflated in her chair.
“I didn’t do this easily, Mum.” The mirthless laugh lay stuck in her throat. “Believe me, it was not easy.”
Sandra kept her arms crossed, not moving.
“Mum! Stop it! I need to make sure I get those kids back, and this was one way it felt like I could help that happen.”
Sandra finally spoke. “That’s a load of crap.”
“It’s not!”
Sighing, Sandra slid into a chair opposite Anna, resting a hand on her wrist. “God, honey.” Her voice was suddenly soft, understanding. “I can see why you thought this would be a solution. And I have no idea how you brought yourself to end it with Lane.” She shook her head. “I really don’t. But no judge is going to expect you to keep yourself single. Lane is someone any child would be lucky to have in their lives.”
Dropping her head on the table, Anna sighed. “Mum, please, you are not helping.”
“Good. Because you need Lane to help get you through this. And when you get those kids back, they’re going to want Lane here, too. God, Ella doesn’t shut up about her.”
Sitting up, Anna clenched her jaw, frustrated. “But, the hearing, if—”
“The judge will already know you’re dating someone. Whether or not you’ve ended it now isn’t going to make a hell of a lot of difference.”
“It will. It could show I’m focused on Ella and Toby.”
“You are already focused on them, Anna.” Sandra gave a sigh that made it sound like she was incredibly hard done by. “There are going to be so many people testifying to that. Don’t you think it’s going to look amazing to a judge that, even though you’ve started a new relationship, every single person will be testifying that you have constantly put the kids first? That you have prioritised them again and again over yourself and your relationship with Lane?”
Anna had nothing to say to that.
Sandra shook her head. “Oh, honey. You can be so useless sometimes.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Well, it’s very true.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The bathroom was the last place Anna expected Kym to corner her with a coffee, and certainly not with a look so fierce Anna was almost too scared to accept it. She slowly reached out her hand and took the cup, and they stood appraising each other for a minute.
Kym didn’t even offer her a tight smile; she only spoke quickly, as if to stop Anna from interrupting. “Okay. I need to say something.”
“Kym—”
“No. I do. Because you’re being an idiot.”
An indignant, “hey” was all she managed to get out before Kym raised a hand.
“You are. I get it that I don’t know the legal system, but you can’t end such a good thing because of this.”
“I had to.”
Kym’s stern look remained. “Yeah, but you didn’t.”
“Kym, I—”
“No. Lane is too damn respectful for her own good and won’t say any of this, so I will.”
“Kym—”
“I said shush! Well, I didn’t. But I meant that. You didn’t need to end this. I’ve been good the past two days; I let it be because, well, no offense, Anna, but you looked like shit.”
Anna opened her mouth, but Kym ploughed on. “I’ve stewed on this all night, and I need to say it.” She grabbed Anna’s shoulder with her free hand and stared her straight in the eye. “You are an idiot. You’ve got something special with Lane. Cathy is the evil one here, and no court will keep you from the kids just because you have a girlfriend! Everyone will testify that you are one hundred per cent focussed on those kids, even to the detriment of your relationship.”
They stared at each other a minute as Kym’s hand buried itself into her lab coat pocket.
Anna pursed her lips. “Mum pointed this out to me last night, too.”
“I’ve always liked that woman. I’m sure she was nicer about it than I’m being.”
&
nbsp; Anna shook her head. “Actually, no, she was meaner. She may have, um, pointed out that I can be useless.”
Kym shrugged. “Good. Our words getting through?”
Anna gave her back her own shrug.
“You know, Anna, if it’s any help at all, everyone can see how you would call it wrong here. You were thinking of the kids.”
“I have to think of them.”
“I know.”
The coffee cup shook in her hand, and she realised her fingers were trembling. “What if Lane won’t forgive me?”
Kym rolled her eyes. “She will.”
“She might not.”
“Shut up, Anna.”
They blinked at each other.
“Do we need to hug?”
Anna shook her head.
“Good.”
Kym rocked on her heels for a moment, the silence suddenly almost awkward. “So. Good—I’ll be off then. You, uh, you think about what I just said.”
Kym exited the bathroom, leaving Anna leaning against the sink. The silence pressed in on her as her mother’s and Kym’s words echoed in her ears.
Everything was so very messed up, and she just wanted her biggest problem to be Lane staying overnight and how to prepare Ella, and, if Anna was being honest with herself, how to prepare Lane for what was in store with two children. She actually missed that hesitancy, that worry. She wanted to be worrying about what to cook for dinner for the kids and to be thinking about work and to miss her brother and sister-in-law. She wanted to be allowed to grieve, because it sometimes felt she’d not had the chance to.
Everything had already been a mess, and now it was just a catastrophe.
And now her mother and Kym were saying things that left Anna speechless. What if they were right?
Gnawing her lip, Anna checked the time. It was nine a.m., and she had to be at the lawyer’s at ten; she’d cleared it with McDermott already.
She’d considered going to Ella’s school, just to see if she was there and, if she was, to catch a glimpse of her heading in—to see if she looked well, if she was smiling, talking. But no, she couldn’t. The lawyer had warned her not to go against child services rules, that it could—would—mess everything up.
