Against Doctor's Orders

by Radclyffe

  “Of course you can! Keep things light. Keep things casual. Don’t give yourself away.” Flann swept her arm to take in the room nestled in the high branches. “Jesus, you brought her up to the tree house already.”

  Harper looked around the space. It was only a tree house, not exactly a confessional. But then she wondered what it said about her and had to admit it said everything. She’d made it with her own hands, building on the rudimentary structure she and Flann had knocked up as preteens. She’d filled it with things that mattered to her and came back to it when she was troubled or lonely or weary. She brought Presley here because she didn’t know a better way to show her the parts of herself that mattered the most. “I had to.”

  “Why?” Flann asked, looking honestly puzzled.

  “Because she got to me and no one else ever has.”

  Flann made an exasperated sound. “Maybe you wanted her to or just think she did. Maybe it’s not Presley at all, but just what you want her to be. There are plenty of other women who could give you what you want.”

  Harper rested her head against the back of the sofa and studied Flann. “Do you really believe that? That one woman would do just as well as another?”

  “Why not? Sure, it’s nice to have a similar outlook on the big things, but I could name a dozen women who would love to have your babies.”

  Harper couldn’t help but laugh, but the laughter left an ache in her throat. “You think that’s all it’s about? Having someone in bed at night, someone to have your kids, or raise your kids? What about in here…” She closed her fist over her heart, and as she expected, Flann made a face.

  “You’re a romantic, Harper. You read too many books as a kid. Most of the time what you see is what you get. Be grateful when you find a woman who won’t ask more than that. And for God’s sake, don’t choose someone who’s already a sure bet to break your heart.”

  “Is that what you want? To just make do?”

  “Don’t make this about me. It’s not about me.”

  “Maybe not, but I still want to know.”

  Flann looked away, a sure sign she was going to avoid the whole truth. She wouldn’t lie, but she would keep her secrets. “I’d be happy with a woman who was into good sex and occasional company and wouldn’t want me to be someone I’m not.”

  “Like a friend with benefits?”

  Flann lifted a shoulder, still staring out the tree house window toward the river. “I suppose that’s a good enough name for it. Just so I don’t have to constantly be worried about someone wanting more.”

  “It’s the wanting more that makes it special.”

  Flann glared at her. “What exactly happened this morning?”

  “Presley reminded me that sex was just sex, sort of like what you’ve been saying. She probably should’ve gone to bed with you and not me.”

  Flann barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, right, then you and I would’ve been pistols at dawn. Why can’t you just be happy you got her into bed?”

  “It’s not enough, and you’d know it, if you weren’t too afraid—”

  Flann jumped up and paced to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance between herself and Harper as possible. She kept her back to Harper as she looked out the window. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Fuck, you’re not. I just don’t know why. Look at Mama and Dad—”

  “Yeah, look at them.” Flann swung around. “Sure, they’ve got a great relationship. How many women do you think there are like Mama? Willing to raise a family practically by herself while Dad does what he wants.”

  “Not just for himself,” Harper said. “You think he’s sacrificed all these years taking care of other people just for himself?”

  “What has he given up? He’s got a home, a woman who waits for him, kids who are crazy about him, while he’s out taking care of other people who think he’s God. Tell me, what’s he given up?”

  Harper sprang to her feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what you think? That it’s all been easy for him?”

  “You can’t see it because you’re just like him. Maybe you should look for a woman just like Mama—and good luck with that.”

  “Where is this coming from?” Harper said quietly.

  Flann’s fury seemed to abate as quickly as it had come and she sank back against the rough-hewn plank wall. She pushed her hands into the pocket of her jeans and stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been mad at him for a while.”

  “For a while? Like ten years or something? Why?”

  Flann raised her head. “He wasn’t here when Katie died.”

  “He didn’t know she was going to go so quickly. It was septic shock. You know that.”

  “He wasn’t here then. He wasn’t at the hospital the night Davey was born. He wasn’t here for more things than I can count.”

  “And you think that didn’t hurt him? Come on, Flann. What is it you’re really afraid of?”

  “That I’ll be just like him,” Flann said flatly. “And I won’t be able to be there when it matters.”

  “So you’ve decided you just won’t try.”

  “I’ve decided that I want a different life.”

  “You’ll change your mind when you meet her.”

  Flann’s eyes darkened. “There is no her.”

  “You can believe that all you want, but you’re wrong.”

  “Well, if you’re any example, I prefer to be wrong for the rest of my life.”

  “It’s worth it.”

  “What is?”

  “The pain—the amazing sense of being filled with everything that’s right is worth the pain. What I felt with her—”

  “Oh come on. Give me a break. Get your head out of the clouds. You had a great roll in the hay. All that says is she’s good in bed, and all that means is she’s had enough practice—”

  Harper tackled her around the waist, and they went down in a pile of arms and legs. The tree shook and leaves fell like rain as they rolled and tumbled and fought to be on top.

  Flann was quick and wiry and they’d had a lot of practice wrestling as kids. It took Flann five minutes to flip Harper onto her back and straddle her middle, but eventually she pinned Harper’s arms to the floor.

  Harper was panting and sweating, but so was Flann. Flann’s face was inches above hers.

  “Say it,” Flann said.

  “No.”

  “Say it.” Flann bounced on Harper’s middle until Harper thought she was going to puke. “Say it.”

  “Uncle,” Harper gasped.

  “I can’t believe you went for me like that.”

  “Get off,” Harper grunted.

  Flannery bounced one more time. “Man, she has got you by the gonads.”

  Harper grinned, but the sadness still filled her. “Yeah, I guess I’m well and truly fucked.”

  Flann sat back on her haunches, taking her weight off Harper’s torso so she could breathe again. “I’m sorry.”

  “For which part?” Harper sucked in air. She needed to run more.

  “I’m sorry things with Presley didn’t work out. I’m sorry for talking bullshit about Dad. I’m not sorry for whipping your ass.”

  “You’re wrong, you know,” Harper said. “You’ll be there when it matters, Flann. You always are.”

  *

  Presley grabbed the items she’d bought the day before out of Harper’s truck, drove home as fast as she dared, and went directly to her room to take off Harper’s clothes. The intimacy of Harper’s touch, even imagined, was too sharp when what she needed was distance. She folded them carefully and set them on the dresser. She’d have to find a delicate way of returning them, but that quandary could wait. After pulling on a pair of capri workout pants, a lightweight V-neck tee, and running shoes, she went downstairs to sweat out some of her self-recrimination. She actually loathed running, so the activity would serve a dual purpose—with every aching step she’d be reminded of the cost of impetuosity and would
wear off the lingering pulse of desire that still beat deep inside. As she passed through the foyer to the front door, Carrie called out a good morning from the living room.

  Presley stopped and poked her head through the doorway. Carrie looked cheery and relaxed curled up in the corner of the couch in threadbare red plaid pj pants and a pale blue Henley, her laptop open and balanced on her knees. Presley mustered up a smile. “Hi. How was your night?”

  “All things considered, amazingly good. The absence of noise—well, at least the noise I’m used to—still weirds me out a little bit. But now I’m starting to hear other things—croaking and chirping and some sort of groaning that I think might be cows.”

  “Hopefully it’s cows. I don’t want to think about it being anything else.” Presley couldn’t help but laugh. “I know what you mean about the sounds, though, and not just the noises. It’s like a different version of everything we know here. Sometimes I feel like I’ve tumbled into an alternate universe.”

  “Or just a very old version of our own.” Carrie stretched her bare feet out onto the big steamer trunk repurposed as a coffee table. Her toenails, Presley noted absently, were bright pink. “I kind of like it. That old-time feeling.”

  “Yes, I suppose it has its charms.” Presley could easily see Harper in a horse and buggy, her big leather satchel by her feet, a horsehair blanket over her lap, riding through a cold fall morning on her way to a call, the trees a sunburst of colors surrounding her, the crystal-blue sky icing gray at the edges with the promise of winter to come. She could see, too, Harper returning after a long night of tending to families spread far and wide over the countryside, stomping her boots on the porch, getting rid of the snow before she trudged inside to where a fire burned in the hearth. To where Presley waited, curled up in a chair with a book. Presley shook her head, dispelling the whimsical hallucination. “Something about this place does things to you. Dangerous things. I wouldn’t get too used to it.”

  Carrie gave Presley a curious, concerned look. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Is there anything right?”

  “Maybe you should sit down.” Carrie patted the sofa. “There’s fresh coffee. And Lila baked bread.”

  Presley caught herself just before she took Carrie up on her invitation. Carrie worked for her, and it wouldn’t do for her to know how conflicted she was about what they were doing here. Conflicted wasn’t exactly the right word. Ambivalent? No, not that either. She knew well enough what needed to be done. She was angry, furious, that the job had been foisted onto her for no other reason than Preston’s ploy for political advantage. Now she was going to disrupt the lives of a lot of good people so Preston could have room to maneuver while she was gone. How venal was that? How meaningless and petty compared to what Harper and Flannery and Edward Rivers did every day. She thought of Jimmy Reynolds, probably struggling right this moment to survive while his parents agonized. And what was her goal? To beat her brother at a game they’d been playing since birth in a hopeless attempt to win their parents’ approval? She didn’t have to play Preston’s game, but she did need to do her job. She had a responsibility to the shareholders, no matter what she might feel personally about the outcome for the people here.

  “Tomorrow morning I want you to set up appointments with the three top-rated construction firms in the county. I want to see them this week to discuss bids, and I’ll need blueprints of the physical plant and the surveys when I meet with them.”

  “All right,” Carrie said slowly. “I’ll have some other figures for you—”

  “Fine. Bring me what you have after lunch tomorrow. I want to get the endgame in place. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I need to.”

  “Of course,” Carrie said.

  From her tone, Presley knew Carrie was bothered by something, but she didn’t have the emotional strength or patience to find out what it was. The best thing for both of them was to get the job done and get home.

  “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Have a good run,” Carrie said uncertainly.

  “I intend to.” Presley banged through the front door and clambered down the steps to the drive. She jogged toward the road, surrounded by green waving stalks of corn that seemed taller overnight. She damned the beauty even as her heart leapt. Everything about the place drew her in, until she couldn’t escape the sweetness or the sorrow. She picked up her pace, determined not to be touched by either.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Presley arrived at the hospital early every day for two weeks, well before anyone else arrived, and left after everyone else had gone home. She saw Carrie and no one else, carefully avoiding the clinical areas of the hospital. Harper hadn’t contacted her to accompany her on rounds or house calls, not that she’d expected her to. All well and good, and a reminder, one she shouldn’t have needed, that mixing personal and professional business was a very bad idea. Besides, she appreciated having more time to work and less time to be distracted by Harper and her patients, things she should’ve known better than to involve herself with to begin with.

  The long hours paid off, and by mid-month, she’d digested most of the significant data, all of which had confirmed what she’d originally suspected. The patient base at the Rivers—she winced and caught herself—at ACH was poor and underinsured. Although the hospital census had remained relatively high throughout the last decade, revenues had declined, costs had risen, and no new sources of income had appeared to bridge the gap. Numbers never lied, no matter how much she wished they did.

  “Carrie,” she said from the doorway of her office, “would you contact Dr. Rivers and ask him to meet with me before the end of the day.”

  “Of course,” Carrie said.

  Carrie had been keeping the same hours as Presley, although Presley hadn’t asked her to. She’d left early a few days for softball games, extending an invitation for Presley to join her. After the first few times Presley refused, Carrie stopped asking. Presley was grateful for Carrie’s perceptiveness.

  “Oh,” Carrie said, “I’ve set up a second appointment for you on Monday with the contractor you liked. All the necessary schematics are on your computer already.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just Edward Rivers?” Carrie asked.

  “Yes. I don’t need to see anyone else.”

  Carrie’s expression was neutral, but her eyes spoke volumes. She wasn’t happy, and ordinarily Presley would’ve asked her for her opinion, but right now, the last thing she needed was someone else distracting her from doing what had to be done.

  “And book me a flight to Phoenix on Tuesday. Schedule a meeting with finance and Preston.”

  “Which order?”

  Presley considered. “Finance.”

  “How long will you be gone?” Carrie asked.

  “A few days. Book a return flight for Thursday, and we can always change it if need be.”

  “All right.” Carrie hesitated. “By the way, I sent some other information you might find interesting.”

  Presley paused. Carrie was too good an admin to ignore and, besides that, they were friends. “What other kind of information?”

  “Population density in the county, patient-physician ratios, and the network—or I should say, lack of network—of urgent care facilities.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” Presley tempered the bite in her voice that she was almost too tired to hide. Carrie was not to blame for her sleepless nights or her sore heart.

  “I know in other locations SunView has tied new acquisitions into local networks. There doesn’t seem to be one here, but if there were, it would be a pipeline of patients to the hospital.”

  “Yes, but as you say, there is no network.”

  “I just thought you should have all the information.”

  “Thanks, I’ll look at it but, Carrie…”

  Carrie looked at her expectantly.

  “Don’t get too…attached. Short term, remember?”

&n
bsp; “Right. I know.”

  Presley shut her office door behind her, sank into her chair, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well. Too damn quiet at night. She worked when she got home until her eyelids were closing, but that didn’t seem to help. When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed—restless dreams filled with frustration. Missed planes, doors that wouldn’t open, phones she couldn’t use. She awoke feeling frustrated, helpless, and—even more aggravatingly—aroused. Not the kind of arousal easily dismissed or sated by a few extra moments of attention, quickly forgotten. She couldn’t find her rhythm here, in this place where time flowed differently, and hoped that if she went back to Phoenix, she would find her balance again. Besides, she needed to make an appearance to remind everyone that she wasn’t going away, particularly Preston. A quick trip to update everyone on this project was a good excuse.

  Work. That was what she needed to be thinking about. She reviewed what she intended to tell Edward Rivers. In the midst of her mental planning, she wondered how Jimmy Reynolds was doing. The thought, popping into her mind out of nowhere, was just another sign of how she’d carelessly let herself be caught up in things outside her domain. Harper was taking care of him, and that was all she needed to know.

  Harper. How many times a day had she thought of her? Too many to count. She groaned under her breath. She had no one to blame but herself that she could still feel Harper’s hands on her, still taste her, still catch the scent of her skin on an errant breeze. Still want her.

  She reminded herself daily that Harper was not the first woman she’d awakened with, not even the first one she’d wanted again, albeit briefly. Why then was Harper the first one she couldn’t forget? The first one she ached for.

  “Enough,” she muttered, opening her eyes and pulling up her email, determined to put Harper out of her mind.

  When Carrie rang her, it was after one thirty and she’d missed lunch again. She didn’t have much of an appetite. If Lila hadn’t left food, morning and night, that smelled too delicious for her to ignore, she probably would’ve lost twenty pounds by now instead of eight. “Yes?”