Radclyffe - Turn Back Time

"I don't know. I never had any reason to think about it." Pearce rolled her shoulders and forced a smile. "It doesn't matter now. It works for me."

Wynter didn't question that statement. It wasn't her place to second-guess what made Pearce happy. "What are your plans? After you finish?"

Pearce watched the flames lick at the center of a thick log, destroying it from the heart out, weakening it until only a shell remained around a crumbling black core. "I'll do a vascular or CT fellowship somewhere, then move into an academic position. I'll earn my stripes, and eventually I'll come back here. And I'll take my father's place."

"Is that what he did?"

"No, he's always been here. But there won't be room for me here for a while. Things have changed enough that he won't be able to push for me to succeed him unless I've got the credentials to support it. To do that, I'll have to break ground elsewhere."

"There aren't very many female chairs of surgery," Wynter said, stating what they both knew. It was still very rare for a woman to head the most powerful division in the hospital hierarchy, and the competition for the coveted position was fierce. Pearce would have to devote every waking moment for years before she might obtain the reluctant respect and support of her colleagues.

Pearce grinned, a hard, feral grin. "None of it's a cakewalk, is it?"

"No," Wynter admitted, thinking that there were easier paths to take. Paths that would allow Pearce some kind of life, some kind of happiness. "Is it what you want?"

"Sure." Abruptly, Pearce stood. "I'll walk you halfway home."

"I want to check your hand tomorrow. Remember that you agreed if it wasn't better you'd get an X-ray."

"If it's not better, I'll--"

"No. No deals."

Pearce started to protest, then sighed. "Okay. Come by whenever you're free. I don't have any plans."

"All right," Wynter said, watching as the large log split in half.

The pieces dropped to either side of the dancing ring of flames and lay smoldering alone on the edges of the fire. The blaze was so beautiful as it consumed itself. And so sad.

v "And then the Little Prince..." Wynter carefully closed the book and leaned over her sleeping daughter to rest it on the windowsill.

Ronnie lay curled up against her side, sleeping the dreamless sleep of the innocents. She'd awakened when Wynter had kissed her upon returning home, and had insisted on a story. Wynter leaned down and kissed her forehead once more, then eased out from under the covers and tucked her child in securely. A Mickey Mouse night-light by the bed guided her through the small room to the door that connected to hers. She left Ronnie's door slightly ajar and turned on the standing lamp just inside her own bedroom.

With a sigh, she contemplated her empty double bed and the prospect of reading until she fell asleep. That usually took under five minutes. Tonight, however, she was restless and had a feeling that it would take more than a few chapters of Elizabeth George to wash away the residual tensions of the day. The move, Pearce's accident, the storm of emotions that her conversation with Pearce about her marriage had brought up for her had left her feeling wired.

A glass of wine might help.

As she passed Ken and Mina's bedroom, she saw that the door was open. Mina always slept with the door open when Ken was on call, as if to maintain contact with the other sleeping members of the house when the bed beside her was empty. The blue-gray light of the television seeped into the hallway. The sound was muted, but she could hear laughter. Probably Letterman. She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open an inch. "Mina?"

"You're up late," Mina called.

"It's only midnight."

"And you're usually asleep before dinner's over. Come on in."

"I was going to get some wine. Can I bring you anything?"

"Popcorn. Make it two bags. And a Dr Pepper."

"Coming right up."

Ten minutes later, Wynter returned with a tray laden with snacks and drinks and a bottle of wine under one arm. "I'm going to miss this when I'm living next door."

"Well, you're not going to be over there for at least a week until we get you unpacked and settled. And then you're only going to be next door, which means we can still have slumber parties." Mina patted the bed beside her. "Come get under the covers and bring all that good stuff with you."

Wynter set the tray down on the bedside table, put the bottle on the floor, and dug through the closet where she knew Mina kept the extra pillows. She grabbed one, then returned to the bed and kicked off the moccasins she wore around the house. She tossed the pillow onto Ken's side of the bed, placed the tray carefully in the center, and climbed under the down comforter. With a sigh, she poured a glass of wine, balanced the wineglass on her stomach, and leaned back into the pillows. "I feel guilty about being happy that Ken's not here tonight."

"No reason to. He gets me two out of every three nights." Mina turned down the sound on the television until it was only background noise. Reaching for the popcorn, she said, "Something wrong?"

Wynter sipped her wine. "No, not really. Just--I don't know, sometimes I'm so busy trying to get through every day that I never really stop to think what I'm doing."

"You've been going pretty much full speed ahead since you were a medical student. Feeling a little burned out?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I really like the work. I'm no more tired now than I ever used to be. In fact, it's a lot easier than it was when Ronnie was three months old and never slept through the night."

"You had Dave around then," Mina said carefully.

"Oh yeah, and he was so much help." Wynter snorted and downed half the wine in her glass. She leaned over the side of the bed and found the bottle, replenished her wine, and took another swallow. Then, remembering her vow not to be bitter about what she couldn't change, and not to forget that she had had some part in the decisions that had led her into a life she had not wanted, she amended, "All right, he was good with Ronnie in the beginning. And that did make a difference."

"I wasn't talking about child care. I was talking about him warming your bed."

"I'm not talking about sex."

"Maybe that's because you haven't had any for a while."

Wynter laughed and nearly upset her wine. "I don't have time to get a haircut, let alone find the time or privacy to have sex."

"Don't tell me there aren't some likely candidates at that hospital that you couldn't drag off into some empty room for twenty minutes."

"Oh, please. That's just what I need. To get the reputation for being an easy lay."

"Well, would you rather get the reputation of being an Ice Queen and scare all the likely takers away?"

"I'd like," Wynter said with feigned dignity, "to get the reputation of being an unassailably professional physician."

"Oh, bull. You just haven't seen anyone you want to get into the sack."

Wynter had to admit that that was true. Even well before her divorce, she and Dave had not been sleeping with one another. It had taken her a while to realize that he was home less and less, even more absent than a busy residency would require, and after she had become suspicious, she hadn't wanted to sleep with him when he was home.

When he didn't challenge their sudden abstinence, she had finally put all the pieces together. She had asked a few friends who were nurses at the hospital what they knew, and they had reluctantly admitted that it was common knowledge that he was involved with a senior medical student. She'd met him at the door after he'd been out all night with another "emergency," demanded his keys, and told him to pack a suitcase and get out. That had been over a year ago, and with her life in total disorder since, sex had disappeared from her radar.