Fated Love (8 page)

"Terry, honey? " Honor leaned down, her lips close to her lover's ear. She could smell the distinct scent of her shampoo. "It's Honor, love. Can you please just wake up for a few minutes? I only want to hear your voice, and then you can go right back to sleep. I promise."

Linda, tears streaming down her cheeks, wrapped her arm around Honor's waist. "Sweetheart, she can't hear you. She's gone, baby."

Honor straightened, furious. "Will you stop saying that! Can't you see she 's just asleep? "

Over Linda's shoulder, Honor could see the expressions on the faces of her friends and colleagues. Pity, sadness, compassion. She reached out and picked up Terry's left hand, running her thumb over the gold band on her ring finger that matched her own. With her other hand, she brushed the hair from her lover's forehead, then leaned down again and softly kissed her lips. "I love you. You know that, right? Forever and always."

* * * * *

With a start, Honor jerked awake, gasping. The room was dark, and when she turned her head, she saw that there were still fifteen minutes until her alarm was due to go off. Heart pounding, she lay in the damp sheets, waiting for the faint nausea to pass.

God, I haven't dreamt of that in so long.

For the first year after Terry's death, she had revisited the scene countless times, in her dreams and in her waking moments. Sometimes it had been with the absolute clarity of perfect recall, as this dream had been, other times merely a jumble of distorted images as she searched frantically through dark mists and frightening shadows, knowing that Terry was waiting for her just at the edge of awakening. But each time she awakened, she had been alone.

As the years had passed, the dreams had become less frequent and eventually had stopped.

Six years, and I still miss you so much.

With a sigh, Honor rolled over and turned off the alarm. She slipped from bed and reached for the robe thrown over the nearby ancient upholstered reading chair. Pulling it on as she walked, she padded quietly down the hall to Arly's room. She peeked inside and saw with relief that her daughter was sleeping soundly. There had been a time when Honor's nightmares had been accompanied by screams. Thankfully, that had stopped.

Arly had been just over a year old when Terry had died and had no memory of her. Honor had never been sure whether that was a good or bad thing. She was happy that their daughter had not consciously suffered the loss of a mother, but she would be eternally saddened that Arly would never know Terry, who had dreamed along with Honor of conceiving her and raising her together as a family.

Sighing, pushing thememories aside,Honor headed downstairs to start the coffee. Phyllis would arrive soon to get Arly off to day camp after Honor left for work. She had just finished pouring her first cup when Phyllis came in through the back door.

"Rough night?" Phyllis asked as she helped herself to coffee.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Phyllis brushed the tousled bangs off Honor's forehead.

"Always know."

Phyllis shrugged. "You have incredibly expressive eyes. And this morning, they're sad."

"Just bad dreams." Honor smiled wanly, knowing she didn't have to explain. Phyllis had moved in with Honor and Arly after Terry's death and had stayed for six months before "moving" back to the other half of the twin. She'd been there for the nightmares and the screams and the agony of loss, bearing up under her own pain to help her daughter's lover cope.

"Something happen to get you stirred up?"

"No, why?" Honor knew she sounded defensive and had no idea why. Thankfully, Phyllis didn't seem offended.

"It's been a long time since you've been bothered. When things come up again like that, it's usually because something has changed."

"Nothing has changed." Abruptly, Honor took her coffee cup and headed toward the winding rear stairs that led from the kitchen to the floor above. "I've got to get moving or else I'll be late."

Wordlessly, Phyllis watched her go. She loved Honor every bit as much as she had loved Terry, and watching Honor's devastation had pained her almost as much as the agony of losing her child. The sadness of that loss was eternal, and she would always miss Terry, but with time, she had let go of the pain. She had always hoped that someday Honor would as well.

Everyone comes to their own truth in their own time,
she reminded herself.
Honor will do the same.

* * * * *

Quinn rolled over in her sleeping bag with a groan and grabbed her right shoulder. A cramp so severe she wanted to scream out loud gripped her trapezius muscle, and it took her a full thirty seconds of massaging it before the charley horse eased. She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"That's it. Tomorrow I'm getting the bedroom together."

The next day she was off. She could spend the entire morning getting her apartment organized. Then she remembered Linda's barbecue in the afternoon and briefly contemplated canceling, but feared that if she did, Linda might show up on her doorstep demanding to know where she was. The woman was persistent.

And, Quinn had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing Honor away from the emergency room. Although why, she couldn't imagine. Honor showed not the slightest interest in her, and she was clearly involved in a relationship.

"That's probably just what I need. As soon as I see her with her partner, I'll stop thinking about her smile."

As she heaved herself to her feet and rummaged around in a nearby carton for clean jeans and a shirt, Quinn tried to pretend that she wasn't lying to herself.

* * * * *

"There's our intrepid new attending," Linda commented as she pulled the car wide around Quinn on her bicycle. It had stopped raining, but the streets were still slick.

Honor glanced out the window from the passenger seat as they passed Quinn. "God, you'd think she'd at least have the good sense to wear a helmet."

"There's hardly much traffic at this time, or on
this
street at any time of day," Linda pointed out, surprised at the vehemence in Honor's voice.

"All it takes is one car to hit her."

"You okay?"

"Yes, of course."

Linda spared her friend a quick glance, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. "You don't look okay. Is Arly all right?"

"She's doing fine. The first thing she did when she woke up this morning was run into the bathroom to look at her eye. Now she can't wait to show everyone at school."

Both women laughed.

"So what's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing," Honor insisted. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Okay. I'll stop nudging."

"Promises, promises."

After gathering their lunches and briefcases from the car, they walked toward the ER. Quinn cycled to a halt nearby and dismounted.

"Hi," Quinn called, shrugging out of her backpack as she looked in their direction.

"Hi." Linda smiled brightly and gave a little wave.

"You ought to get a helmet," Honor noted sharply as she passed.

Quinn stared after her.
Good morning to you, too.

* * * * *

"I need your opinion," Quinn said quietly, folding her arms on the counter and looking down at Honor, who was seated on the opposite side. When gold-flecked brown eyes met hers, Quinn's pulse gave a little jump. She cleared her throat. "If you've got a minute."

"Of course." Honor initialed the lab report she was reviewing, clipped it to her current patient's chart, and regarded Quinn neutrally. They'd barely said one word to each other for the entire ten hours of the shift. It had been a busy day, but even with that, she had the feeling they were
both
intentionally avoiding one another. Still, seeing her brought a whisper of warmth to Honor's depths. Carefully keeping her voice steady, she asked, "What have you got?"

"A seventeen-year-old girl with severe abdominal pain, nausea, and vomiting."

"Pelvic inflammatory disease?" One of the common causes of abdominal pain in young women was infection in the uterus or fallopian tubes from sexually transmitted diseases, most often gonorrhea. Honor was surprised that Quinn was asking
her
opinion about someone with abdominal pain, because that was one of the classic symptom complexes surgeons were taught to evaluate and diagnose.

"Nope." Quinn turned to face Honor as she came around the counter. They were close enough to touch, but the distance between them was palpable. "She denies recent sexual activity, and I believe her. Her pelvic exam is completely unremarkable."

"You don't think it's surgical, I take it."

"No, I don't. At first I thought it was a simple case of viral gastroenteritis," Quinn said, frowning. "But the symptoms seem too marked for that."

"Food poisoning?"

"That's my working diagnosis, but it just doesn't feel right." Quinn ran a hand through her hair, frustrated.
"She
says she thinks it's from bad seafood that she had last night at a friend's house."

Honor nodded, watching Quinn's eyes darken to nearly purple.
She's so intense. So focused. So...
Abruptly, Honor reached for the chart that Quinn held in her right hand, dragging her eyes from Quinn's face and forcing herself to concentrate. "Does she have a fever or a headache?"

"No. And she says the pain only started two hours ago."

"Where is she? There's something off about this."

Quinn led Honor to the patient's cubicle. When they entered, she said, "Karen, this is Dr. Blake. I've asked her to take a look at you."

The girl, pale and shaking, looked frightened. "Why? What's wrong?"

"We're just trying to figure that out," Honor said kindly. She took the young woman's wrist and felt her pulse, which was weak and racing. The skin beneath her fingers was clammy and damp. As she watched, a tear slid from beneath the girl's lashes. Then another. The girl seemed unaware of the steady trickle.

"We can't take care of you properly if we don't have all the information," Honor said, her eyes fixed on the girl's face. Another tear slid down the pale cheek. "Did you
eat
anything strange, besides the...
seafood?"

Quinn stood across the bed from Honor, watching. Honor's eyes were compassionate, but she exuded a sense of strength and command that was compelling. She had an air of certainty that made you believe you could lean on her.
Jesus, where did that come from?

"What do you mean?" The girl's voice was tremulous now.

"Are any of your friends sick, too?"

Friends?
Quinn couldn't figure out what was going on, but it was clear that Honor was after something.

"I don't know. I left..." The young woman looked away.

"...the party?" Honor finished.

The girl nodded miserably.

"When was this?"

"This afternoon. A pool party this afternoon."

"And you
all
took the mushrooms?"

Mushrooms? What the hell?
Quinn shook her head. I
sure missed the boat on this one.

At the girl's pitiful expression of assent, Honor turned to Quinn.
"A. muscaria
poisoning...excessive tearing, nausea, vomiting, acute abdominal pain, excess salivation, and a host of other symptoms. Kids take the mushrooms thinking they're going to be hallucinogenic, but most of the time they're just poison."

"Treatment?" Quinn asked sharply.

"She'll need an IV, a gastric washout with activated charcoal to bind whatever toxin hasn't been absorbed from her stomach already, and some medication to counteract what
has
gotten into her system. I'll go over the meds with you in a minute." She turned back to the young patient. "I'll need the address where the party is, and we're going to have to call your parents."

"They're in Martha's Vineyard."

"I guess they'll need to come back, then."

It took close to three hours for Honor and Quinn to stabilize the young woman and the two friends whom the police found in a comparable state of toxicity at the home of one of the teenagers. By that time, it was close to nine p.m.

"Man, am I glad I asked you to take a look at her." Quinn arched her back and groaned. "If I'd sent her home, who knows what would have happened. Christ."

Honor heard the self-recrimination in Quinn's voice. "Listen, Quinn, the important thing is that you sensed that something unusual was going on, and that's what counts down here. No one expects you to know everything."

"You
seem to know it all."

"Yes, but that's because I'm the boss."

Their eyes held for a second, and then they both laughed.

"So, can I buy you a late dinner?" Quinn asked impulsively. When she saw Honor flush, she realized that the invitation was inappropriate.
What the hell is wrong with me?

"Uh, thanks. But I should get home. My mother-in-law is with Arly, and—"

"That's okay. I understand," Quinn said quickly. "Thanks for your help, Honor. I appreciate it."

"No problem." For a second, Honor hesitated, thinking that she could call Phyllis and ask her to stay with Arly a little while longer. Then she caught herself.
What am I doing? I can't go out to dinner with her! Mixing business with pleasure is always a bad idea, and Quinn Maguire has trouble written all over her.
Abruptly, Honor stepped away. "Good night, Quinn." Quinn just nodded, feeling supremely foolish and inexplicably disappointed.

Chapter Seven

S o what happened with the mushroom kids?" Linda asked as she arranged carrot and celery sticks on a serving platter. "Sorry I couldn't work overtime and help out. Robin had bowling."

"No problem. Quinn stayed. We finally got them all washed out and stabilized around nine." Honor stirred the sour cream and chives dip and scooped it into a small bowl. "I haven't seen anything like that since I was in college. Thank God I was smart enough then not to try it."

"I'm amazed you recognized it yesterday."